#buck got rack

[seth-figment]

Buck got Rack

To the tune of Baby got Back by Sir Mix-a-Lot Sung by Vox to a rampaging Alastor (probably overheard Susan gossip)

Buck got Rack

[intro girls] Oh, my, god. Susan, look at his rack. It is so big. [scoff] He looks like one of those trophies. But, you know, who understands those tv demons? [scoff] They only talk to him, because, he looks like a total prostitute, ‘kay? I mean, his rack, is just so big. I can’t believe it’s just so pointy it’s like, out there, I mean— gross. Look! He’s just so… red!

[Verse 1: Sir Vox-a-Lot] I like big bucks and I can not lie You other demons can’t deny That when a deer walks in with a itty bitty waist And a rack with sixteen points You get sprung, wanna pull up tough 'Cause you notice that rack was sharp Up high those points he’s flaunting  I’m hooked and I can’t stop staring Oh buck, I wanna get with you Still got your photo My colleagues tries to warn me But that rack you got makes me so horny Ooh, Tail-o’-fluffy-red  You say you won’t have me on your show? Well, use me, use me 'Cause I ain’t that average groupie I’ve heard them screamin’ To hell with romancin’ He’s cruel, red, Got me goin’ like a geforce rtx (4090) I’m tired of News casts  Sayin’ pink spiders are the thing Take the average demon and ask him that He gotta pack much rack So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!) Has your buck got that rack? (Hell yeah!) Tell 'em to flaunt it! (Flaunt it!) Flaunt it! (Flaunt it!) Flaunt that shapely rack! Buck got rack!

[Chorus: Sir Vox-a-Lot] (Radio face with Monarch rack) Buck got rack! (Radio face with Monarch rack) (Radio face with Monarch rack)

[Verse 2: Sir Vox-a-Lot] I like 'em sharp, and big And when I’m throwin’ a show I just can’t help myself, I’m actin’ like a hammerhead Now here’s my scandal I wanna make a deal And ugh, double-up, ugh, ugh I ain’t talkin’ bout a meal 'Cause my parts are made of plastic   You want that venison, thick and juicy So find that juicy double Vox-a-lot’s in trouble Beggin’ for a bite from that smile So I’m lookin’ at porn videos Bitches begging and dancin’ like hoes You can have them bitches  I’ll keep my bucks like Aly A word to my dear show host, I wanna get with ya You can bite or gore me But I gotta be straight when I say I wanna [moan] Till the break of dawn Buck got it goin’ on A lot of simps won’t like this song 'Cause them sinners like to run and hide from you And I’d rather stay and play 'Cause I’m new, and improved  And I’m down to get those upgrades  So, gents’! (Yeah!) Gents’! (Yeah) If you wanna be featured on the show (Yeah!) Then offer it up! Sign the deal! Even owned souls got to shout

[Chorus: Sir Vox-a-Lot] Buck got rack! Buck got rack!

[Bridge: Sir Vox-a-Lot] Yeah, bucky… when it comes to deer, 666 News ain’t got nothin’ to do with my selection. 15 inch waist? Ha ha, only if he’s 6'6".

[Verse 3: Sir Vox-a-Lot] So you interfere with my drones, playin' hard to catch on camera  But my camera got backups playin' you up on repeat My sharks they don’t want none Unless you’ve got deer, dear You can do talk shows or stand-up But please don’t disappear  Some demons wanna play that “hard” role And tell you that the smile ain’t gold So they run and they hide And I pull up quick to join in So Killjoy says you’re out Well I ain’t down with that! 'Cause your waist is small and your antlers are curvy  And I’m thinkin’ bout stickin’ To the beanpole whores in the pornos: You ain’t it, Miss Hoe! Give me a killer, I can’t resist him The jambalaya didn’t miss him Some knucklehead tried to diss 'Cause their souls are on his list He has game and he chose to eat 'em And I pull up quick to get wit 'im So gent’, if the rack is sharp, And you want a triple X throw down, Dial 1-666-VOXXX And kick them nasty thoughts Buck got rack! Buck got rack!

[Outro: Sir Vox-a-Lot] Little in the middle but he got a huge rack [4x]

————–

Some notes:

Link to inspo (title is also a link)

Changed Becky to Susan

Ooh, Tail-o’-fluffy-red …. The og lyrics are “Oh, Rump-o’-smooth-skin”….

A stag with sixteen points and more is called a Monarch stag (he gets lots of points when he goes full eldritch/demon)

Changed 36-24-36 to 15 inch waist to be closer to vivziepop proportions. 15 inches is the world record for tight-lacing waist.

Changed 5'3" to 6'6" to be closer to vivziepop proportions ( Alastor is somewhere around 7 feet I think)

Link to genius lyrics for Baby got Back

[seth-figment]

Buck got Rack

[intro girls] Oh, my, god. Susan, look at his rack. It is so big. [scoff] He looks like one of those trophies. But, you know, who understands those tv demons? [scoff] They only talk to him, because, he looks like a total prostitute, 'kay? I mean, his rack, is just so big. I can't believe it's just so pointy it's like, out there, I mean— gross. Look! He's just so… red!

[Verse 1: Sir Vox-a-Lot] I like big bucks and I can not lie You other demons can't deny That when a deer walks in with a itty bitty waist And a rack with sixteen points You get sprung, wanna pull up tough 'Cause you notice that rack was sharp Up high those points he's flaunting  I'm hooked and I can't stop staring Oh buck, I wanna get with you Still got your photo My colleagues tries to warn me But that rack you got makes me so horny Ooh, Tail-o'-fluffy-red  You say you won't have me on your show? Well, use me, use me 'Cause I ain't that average groupie I've heard them screamin' To hell with romancin' He's cruel, red, Got me goin' like a geforce rtx (4090) I'm tired of News casts  Sayin' pink spiders are the thing Take the average demon and ask him that He gotta pack much rack So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!) Has your buck got that rack? (Hell yeah!) Tell 'em to flaunt it! (Flaunt it!) Flaunt it! (Flaunt it!) Flaunt that shapely rack! Buck got rack!

[Chorus: Sir Vox-a-Lot] (Radio face with Monarch rack) Buck got rack! (Radio face with Monarch rack) (Radio face with Monarch rack)

[Verse 2: Sir Vox-a-Lot] I like 'em sharp, and big And when I'm throwin' a show I just can't help myself, I'm actin' like a hammerhead Now here's my scandal I wanna make a deal And ugh, double-up, ugh, ugh I ain't talkin' bout a meal 'Cause my parts are made of plastic   You want that venison, thick and juicy So find that juicy double Vox-a-lot's in trouble Beggin' for a bite from that smile So I'm lookin' at porn videos Bitches begging and dancin' like hoes You can have them bitches  I'll keep my bucks like Aly A word to my dear show host, I wanna get with ya You can bite or gore me But I gotta be straight when I say I wanna [moan] Till the break of dawn Buck got it goin' on A lot of simps won't like this song 'Cause them sinners like to run and hide from you And I'd rather stay and play 'Cause I'm new, and improved  And I'm down to get those upgrades  So, gents'! (Yeah!) Gents'! (Yeah) If you wanna be featured on the show (Yeah!) Then offer it up! Sign the deal! Even owned souls got to shout

[Chorus: Sir Vox-a-Lot] Buck got rack! Buck got rack!

[Bridge: Sir Vox-a-Lot] Yeah, bucky… when it comes to deer, 666 News ain't got nothin' to do with my selection. 15 inch waist? Ha ha, only if he's 6'6".

[Verse 3: Sir Vox-a-Lot] So you interfere with my drones, playin' hard to catch on camera  But my camera got backups playin' you up on repeat My sharks they don't want none Unless you've got deer, dear You can do talk shows or stand-up But please don't disappear  Some demons wanna play that "hard" role And tell you that the smile ain't gold So they run and they hide And I pull up quick to join in So Killjoy says you're out Well I ain't down with that! 'Cause your waist is small and your antlers are curvy  And I'm thinkin' bout stickin' To the beanpole whores in the pornos: You ain't it, Miss Hoe! Give me a killer, I can't resist him The jambalaya didn't miss him Some knucklehead tried to diss 'Cause their souls are on his list He has game and he chose to eat 'em And I pull up quick to get wit 'im So gent', if the rack is sharp, And you want a triple X throw down, Dial 1-666-VOXXX And kick them nasty thoughts Buck got rack! Buck got rack!

[Outro: Sir Vox-a-Lot] Little in the middle but he got a huge rack [4x]

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

Some notes:

Changed Becky to Susan

Ooh, Tail-o'-fluffy-red .... The og lyrics are "Oh, Rump-o'-smooth-skin"....

A stag with sixteen points and more is called a Monarch stag (he gets lots of points when he goes full eldritch/demon)

Changed 36-24-36 to 15 inch waist to be closer to vivziepop proportions. 15 inches is the world record for tight-lacing waist.

Changed 5'3" to 6'6" to be closer to vivziepop proportions ( Alastor is somewhere around 7 feet I think)

Link to genius lyrics for Baby got Back

Forgot to post this here for a while...At this point, my brand is just dumb jokes jklfasghlaknsd

[screamingay]

someday. i won't have to be excited that i saved a whole dollar on laundry

[iatrophilosophos]

I feel so rich in pants! I have THREE pairs of jeans that fit!! I got them for under $5 altogether!!!!

[yourheartinyourmouth]

i absolutely cannot ~wait~ for spring bc a few months ago i got the cutest doc martens sandals for like 20 bucks and the pair of tevas i’ve wanted since the 90s for like 15

[ceilidho]

Soap coaxing his new girlfriend into fooling around on the couch while they have the apartment to themselves (he has a roommate, but "Gaz isnae comin' hame 'til after" he coos, already shoving his hand down the front of your pants and sawing two thick fingers between your folds).

You let him paw at you and peel your clothes off because you've been wound up all day and he's the hottest guy you've ever dated, so why wouldn't you let him feel you up whenever he's horny? (Which is more often than you thought; practically all the time actually.)

(Tw: noncon/dubcon)

Only Gaz walks through the door the second Soap has you spread on your belly on the couch with your ass in the air, fat cock buried to the root. And he doesn't stop when you shriek and Gaz cocks an eyebrow, unfazed by his roommate screwing his girlfriend on the communal couch.

In fact, he wanders over after taking off his coat, greeting Soap in a totally normal voice while you struggle under your boyfriend, trying to cover your bare tits with your arm at the same time until Soap gets irritated by all your fussing and twists both of your arms behind your back.

"Yer back early," Soap grouses, hips pumping into you in shallow plunges, like his roommate coming home early is distracting enough to reign in some of his excitement, but not enough to make him stop.

"Shop closed early today," Gaz shrugs, dropping his bag by the shoe rack, still remarkably unbothered by what's going on in front of him.

You're humiliated, horrified. More upset with yourself than anything (that's a lie - you're way angrier with Soap, but he doesn't even flinch when you scream about covering up and try to buck him off; he just moans and braces a foot on the floor to get a better angle) because you've only gotten wetter since Gaz walked through the front door.

"Fuck, dae that again, sweetie," he pants, cock so deep that you can feel it nudge your cervix with every stroke.

Squirming doesn't help much because all it does is make you tighten around Soap's cock.

"Poor girl," Gaz tuts, standing in front of the two of you now. You think the situation can't get any worse and then he strokes your cheek with the back of his knuckles, looking almost pityingly down at you. The shock at being touched by him leaves you tongue-tied, struck dumb. "Being a bit rough with her, aren't you, mate?"

He smooths a thumb over your cheekbone. You clench up tighter at Gaz's touch, dragging a guttural moan out of your boyfriend. It's awhile before he finds his voice again.

"Christ," Soap hisses through his teeth. "Och, yer fuckin' nasty, bonnie; git aff oan Gaz watchin' ye? She clenched richt up whin ye spoke."

"Can't blame her - miss having someone be nice to you, huh, sweetheart?"

Soap's voice is dismissive and panting when he responds. "Nah, she loves this. Begs fer it rough."

"Aw, that's not true, is it, sweetheart?" Gaz coos down at you, and you swear you're going to say something, swear the next thing out of your mouth won't be a slutty moan.

But a thumb slips into your mouth and presses against your tongue when you part your lips, and you close your lips around it reflexively.

"Yeah; there we go," he says in a low voice, smooth as molasses, unzipping his fly with one hand when you give his thumb a suck. "Nah, Johnny, you got yourself a good girl here. Gotta treat her right."

And that's how you wind up pinned on your belly with your boyfriend's cock deep in your cunt and his roommate's spreading your lips wide, eyes welling up from the stretch. You lose patches of time after that, thoughts fizzling out until you're only aware of being filled at both ends and the slick, wet sounds of the two of them making out over your prone body.

[moonchildcovenxx]

Scissoring With Sevika

a/n: Guys i got possessed!! It’s the voices I swear! this is loosely based off of @justhereforsubsevika’s post so go check that out if u like mine :)!!

first time tribbing with sub/switch sevika??? you know what hell yeah!

Sevika prided herself in her poker face. It was an ability that came naturally, and the years of being Silco’s second in command had perfected this trait. It took a lot to break your stoic, brooding, girlfriend. That is until it didn’t.

Sevika had simply stopped moving above you. It was uncharacteristic of her to quiet so quickly. ���Vika baby…” you trail off as you shift your hips to look at her. You always craved to feel her closer.

 Sevika’s warm muscular body against yours never failed to make you needy. She could hardly believe it herself when you suggested scissoring in place of her fucking you stupid with a strap. Sevika hated to admit when she was wrong, But it felt good. Better even. So good in fact that you both froze when a soft mewl fell from her parted lips.

“Shut up.” Sevika immediately rasped out as your intrigued yet teasing giggle filled your dimly lit bedroom.

“Didn’t know you could sound like that Sevika.” The atmosphere in the room has reached a drunken, hazy, stupor and your eyes darken as Sevika tucks her lower lip between her teeth, her thighs shuddering atop yours. “Don’t—Stop that.” Sevika attempts to chide, but she cuts herself off with a breathy gasp as your clits kiss oh so gently. It has her pretty grey eyes rolling back, it’s a small touch, but she can feel everything. “F-fuck.” Sevika pants, dropping onto her elbows to cage around you.

It’s taking all your energy to stay as quiet as possible to hear the absolutely devastating noises that are leaving your girl. 

Something in you blooms as you watch Sevika’s usually sharpened, reserved facade crumble. Her cheeks dust rosy as your eyes roam her figure not knowing what or where to settle on. Sevika’s already pussy drunk—completely stupefied. That much you can tell. The way her eyebrows furrow, arching upward is merely one sign. A permanent shiver racks her body at even your slightest change or quirk of your body. A beat passes where both of you are still, clearly waiting for someone to make a move. And then it clicks. What Sevika wants you to do. and all of a sudden you find your hand at her throat pulling her into a deep kiss. “Yeah like th-that ohgod.” 

Sevika leans closer finally letting your hands guide her hips where you want them. And where you want them is bucking down onto you. You need her clit against yours. You need to feel the way her cunt just drips as you coo praises up at her. “So pretty like this, huh?” Your words are slurred from the pleasure each time she grinds down onto your now sloppy pussy. Sevika shakes her head fervently trying to keep some semblance of dominance. Trying and failing to pretend she was unbothered by your vulgar words and even sultrier actions, but it wouldn’t work. As you leave biting marks on her collarbone, the resulting noise that you drag out of her is so throughly debauched you moan back her name in response.

“I’m going to stop if you don’t speak up.” You tsk up at her. Your words are nothing but lies. You need to cum just as much as Sevika does, but you’re in love with the indignant, pained expression that falls over her features, her restraint finally snapping when you threaten her. “No—ah-baby please it feels so—so good oh god oh my god!” Sevika all but wails into your chest, as you meanly hum in mock thought, you’re sure that the throbbing in your cunt gives you away. When was the last time you were this wet?

“Hmm. Should I let you cum Vika? you’ve been so….” you cut yourself off by squeezing her neck ever so slightly, and in result Sevika’s mouth drops open, this time staying there as you continue to toy with her. “so ‘bratty’…” You giggle, as Sevika shakes her head again. “I’m-fuck-‘m not a brat.” Sevika hitches out indignant. Her deep raspy lilt long gone, in its place a broken whimper. “Please I’m—Please I’ve been good I wanna-“ She cuts herself off as her eyes roll back for the nth time of the night. The pleasure coils painfully in your tummy, the tightly wound knot ever so close to snapping. 

“Then cum for me Sevika.” you manage breathily as your clit rubs against hers oh so addictively that your hips buck up to meet Sevika’s erratic thrusts. 

“Oh God-hahh—”

Sevika falls into you, head burying into your shoulder as she all but creams on your overly sensitive pussy. 

“Just like—ah- that I got you.” You purr comfortingly, managing to hook your leg around her thigh holding her still. The silence envelops the two of you comfortably as you breathe in an overwhelmed yet satisfied breath. The quiet continues and you think that Sevika has simply fallen asleep on top of you as you lean back into the ruffled up pillows. 

“I…wouldn’t mind doing that again.” Sevika’s husky low lilt is amusedly back—like it had never left, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you nod eagerly cuddling closer in her arms.

[kairoot]

𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝒟𝑂𝐿𝐿，𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝓟𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬𝑺𝑺 ．． ୨୧ 양정원

ׂ ִ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬．𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗇，𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗅𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖺𝗒 ♡︎． — 𝐩. 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝐠. 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝，𝑓𝑙𝑢𝘧𝘧，𝑒𝑡𝑐． — 𝐰. 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌，𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁．

✉️ ──── 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾， @ourhees ！𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗌，𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝟣𝟪 𝗇𝗈𝗐 ！！！（𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗆𝗀），𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 <𝟥．

the mall was crowded with people and bustling with different noises as you and your boyfriend strolled through. his hand was tightly intertwined with yours, keeping you close and trying to avoid bumping into others along the way.

he insisted on holding your bags for you, as they were filled with items from previous stores you had visited. he didn’t care about what you got, as long as it made you happy.

you stopped walking for a moment, only to find another store that piqued your interest. you walked ahead with jungwon still following close behind, hand still with yours.

the two of you ventured through the shop as you looked at all of the clothing and accessories that hung on the racks. you walked past some of them, eventually stoping to admire a top you liked.

jungwon stood close behind you, his chest against your back as he observed whatever you were looking at. though he wasn’t that into shopping like you were, he always liked to see your face light up when you found something you loved.

“this is cute,” you mumbled out loud, more to yourself than to jungwon.

“yeah? why don’t you try it on?”

you smile, “not a bad idea.”

you and jungwon walk over to the dressing rooms but you had grabbed a few more items to try on just to see your options. one of the employees of the store gave you a key to the dressing room while jungwon waited outside on one of the benches.

the first item you tried was the top that you picked out. it was a simple pink square neck top but to you, it was one of the cutest things in the store.

“what do you think?” you opened the dressing room door, showing off the top to jungwon.

he stared at you lovingly before replying with a soft smile, “it’s so pretty on you.”

you blushed slightly at his comment, stepping back into the stall to try on the pair of jeans you picked out. jungwon liked those and told you that they “fit well”.

you tried on two more items before exiting the area and starting to put the clothes back.

“what are you doing?” he asked.

“i’m putting these back. the price is pretty unreasonable.” you told him. one of the pairs of jeans you wanted was about 35 bucks and you didn’t want jungwon wasting his money on that.

“don’t worry about it, i’ll pay for it.”

“won, no, they’re not even that cute—“

he shook his head, disagreeing with your protests. today was your day and jungwon didn’t care if he went bankrupt trying to spoil you. he just wanted to see you happy and give you all of the things that you deserved.

“c’mon, i’m paying.” he put both of your other bags in one hand and used the other to grab your hand, pulling you to the cash register.

after he made the purchase, you tried to act mad at him but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

“i told you that you didn’t have to do that,” you rolled your eyes playfully.

“but i did. happy birthday, princess.” he shrugged before kissing your head, walking next to you as you both ventured off to the next store.

• • •

this is pretty short but im so eepy.. happy birthday sav !! 💌

[http-shield]

Bucky is high-key appalled by the lack of chivalry and politeness exhibited by the men of the twenty first century. Can't fathom that men ignore women on the train or bus who need seats, that doors aren't being opened for women, seats aren't being pulled out, space isn't made for women as they pass packs of men on the sidewalk. There are many things in this new age world that Bucky can't wrap his head around, but the disregard for women is something he'll never understand, so he opens doors for ladies if they are both going in the same building, vacates seats when there is a woman around in need of space. He can't help it, having grown up in a world entirely different to the one he is now. It is second nature and comes as quickly as breathing, but it stuns you a little the first time you get treated like that. You swoon at the fact Bucky holds the door for you, lets you pass before him, makes sure you walk on the safer side of the pavement, holds your hand when you cross the road, makes sure you get the food and drinks first, offers to drive and pay for date nights, the list is endless. Still, for once in your adult dating life, you don't question the sincerity of his words as they are backed up by actions.

"Did something happen to men while I was gone?" Bucky's confused voice floats down the hall of your apartment as he strides in, kicking his shoes off and placing them neatly on the rack by the bathroom door.

"What do you mean?" You look up from your spot on the couch, laptop sitting on your raised legs. "Like, did they go extinct and come back?"

Bucky reaches the living room and shucks off his jacket and gloves to hang over the chair before coming to the couch and plopping beside you. A soft kiss is pressed to your cheek, stubble grazing your skin as he mumbles a greeting before settling into the plush sofa.

"I mean, did they lose all manners?" he shakes his head in disbelief, hands splaying out in frustrated emphasis. "Do men not open doors for women? Or move out of the way for them on the side walk?"

You close the laptop and stow it away on the small shelf of the coffee table, no longer focusing on the information packets Tony had sent you early this morning.

"What happened?" You ask, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, enjoying how he melts into your touch.

"I just watched a bucnh'a men in suits practically push a woman out of the way to get through the door." he sighs, clearly exasperated at the lack of respect for other humans. "And then they didn't even hold the door for her! They just let it swing closed. How do they act on dates? I doubt they pay."

You hum, letting his rant continue.

"And I was on the line."

"Online." you correct gently, spiking his hair up with your fingers, the shorter strands finally obeying you.

"I was online," he rectifies. "and I saw this video of a woman talking about a man getting angry that she wasn't gonna go home with him after the first date."

"Please tell me that never happened to you." His attention shifts to you now, genuine distress simmering in his blue eyes, and when you don't answer, he becomes distraught.

"Doll, no," Bucky shakes his head as if you confessed to the murder of his beloved stuffed animal. "Come on, you gotta be joking."

"It was years ago! I was young and stupid and didn't know my worth." You shrug, obviously not as upset as your counterpart. “I've learnt my lesson. I know I am worth at least two dinners now." The joke falls flat as Bucky stares, not amused.

"It's a joke, Buck."

"I know, but I don't like it." He grumbles, folding his arms across his chest like a child. "Don't like that you were treated like that."

"Well, good thing I've got you now, huh?" you abandon his hair, stroking the back of your fingers over his stubbly cheek.

Bucky pouts. "Still don't like it. You deserved better."

You kiss his cheek, feeling his cheeks round as he smiles. "You're too good to me, Mr. Barnes." another kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Even if we did sleep together on the first date."

"Hey! That wasn't the same. We knew each other before that." Bucky protests as you stand from the couch, walking to the kitchen to start on dinner. "At least I paid!"

[wanda-widow]

Post-Mission

Grumpy!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 832

Summary: Bucky has always been one to try and pull away from people who care about him. However, you're always one to be insistent and care for him anyways, no matter what he says.

18+ MDNI

Warnings: slight angst, implied smut if you squint your eyes, fluff

Like and reblog if you wish 💗

Hearing footsteps shuffle down the hall along with the sound of a dragging duffle was all you needed to know that Bucky was back from his week long mission. Hopping off the bed and peeking your head out of your shared bedroom, you saw Bucky scrub a weary hand down his face. You instantly frowned, worried as you hurried over to him, taking the duffle out of his hands. 

“How was the mission? Are you hurt anywhere? We should get you some food, you look exhausted” you said while rushing back to the room to unpack his gear as he let out a sigh, silently chucking off his boots before face planting on the bed. 

“Bucky?” came your worried voice after you put his boots into the closet, sitting on the bed next to him and poking his shoulder. “Bucky, get up. Shower, eat, and then rest.” you urged, poking him again when his vibranium hand shot out to grip your wrist.

“Let me sleep” he said gruffly before shifting on the bed so that his back was turned to you, leaving you rubbing your wrist softly. You knew he wasn’t too responsive after missions since it took so much out of him, not that he was one for words or self care anyways. Still, you took it upon yourself to make sure he was cared for. 

“Please? I’ll make you plum croissants tomorrow if you just shower and eat” you tried again, scooting closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder as you felt him sigh again before sitting up.

“Eat and then shower” he said, running a hand through his hair as he made his way to one of the compound communal kitchens, sitting down on one of the stools as he waited for you expectantly. 

“Grilled cheese?” you offered, slotting yourself in the opening between his thighs, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he nodded, fingers trailing down your arm as you pulled away. You could feel his gaze follow you as you bustled around the kitchen to make his food. “Go shower and then you can eat after” you said softly, turning around to look at him as he frowned, reaching out to tug you by the wrist back into his proximity.

“Thought you would shower with me” he said softly, letting his walls down while no one else was around. You felt his hands come to rest on your waist, forehead between your breasts as he pressed a kiss through your clothes. 

“Another time, I promise” you laughed softly, letting your hands run through his hand before stopping at his shoulders, letting one hand trail down his vibranium arm. He let out a quiet whine before getting off the stool, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. You watched as he went back to the room to shower before turning back to the sandwich, humming softly.

20 minutes later, Bucky was freshly showered and seated at the counter once more, gaze still fixed on you as you plated his sandwich and sat next to him. He ate in silence for a while as you observed the new wounds on his back. Finding some gauze and neosporin, you began to bandage them gently.

“They’re shallow but-” 

“They’re nothing” Bucky cut you off but made no move to stop you from patching him up. After placing the last piece of medical tape, he turned in his stool to face you, the both of you exchanging silent conversation before he got up to wash his plate. 

“If you keep going on long missions, you’re just gonna keep destroying yourself, Buck” you said quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. It became more apparent that the past couple months, he just drew further into himself with each mission, determined to block out the pain with endless fighting. 

“I’m just helping the team” he said tersely, putting his dish in the drying rack before he walked back to the room, expecting you to follow behind him. You stood there for a moment, willing for the emotions to fade, to appreciate that he was here. 

Your legs moved in habit, walking to your shared bedroom and flicking off the light before sliding under the covers with him. You could still hear his breaths, short and controlled. He wasn’t asleep.

After a long moment of silence, he spoke up again. “I don’t mean it, doll. The rudeness, the violence. I’m trying.”

“Bucky…” you started quietly but stopped when you felt the bed shift, a heavy weight now resting across your waist, shallow puffs of breath ghosting across your collarbone. 

“I’ll take a month break, spend time with you?” he half offered, half begged, the grip on your waist tightening.

“James…” 

“Only time with you. No one else unless really needed” he whispered, his leg shifting to now rest over yours, lips gently sucking at the base of your neck, smirking when he felt you cave. 

“How does Bali sound?” 

[ferrarifinnick]

RESURFACE! | LANDO NORRIS, 4.

*REWRITTEN! this new version is IT!!! think i fell in love while writing this. where does one acquire a yacht so i can make this my reality ??? also, first lando fic woo!! what do you think? anyway, enjoy!

warnings: masterbation, pda, fantasising, a little bit of public play, oral (f receiving), teasing, squirting, uncomfortable eye contact, charles leclerc, ruined orgasm.

1.9k words

lando really tried. he tried, but no matter how long he racked his brain for, he never got any closer to understanding why wet hair got him so hot. and not just any wet hair, only yours.

it started in monaco. one afternoon, far out in the sea on his shiny new sailing boat, he got the clever idea of daring you to jump into the salty water with him.

with his hands on your waist, he begged. “come on,” he said, pulling you closer to the railings on the side of the boat.

you pushed his chest weakly and said, “don’t want to get my hair wet, lan,” but it hadn’t convinced him to back down.

“do it for me, baby,” he tried again, big hands pulling your hips against his. “gonna look so pretty all wet.”

he meant a lot of things by this, and part of him meant exactly what you were thinking. but what he hadn’t meant was your hair. not specifically at least.

but when your hips wiggled out of his hold and you swung a leg over the railing, he wasted no time climbing over with you. he wrapped a strong arm over your chest once you settled on the other side, letting his fingers snap at the strap of your bikini top.

“ready, baby?” he asked, his free arm rested between the railing and the back of your leg, his pinky finger tracing over the side of your thigh.

he spotted a snag in your brow, and recognising the oncoming wave of doubt, he chose to strike. he slid his hand under your bikini top and squeezed your breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it before you could entertain the thought of backing out.

you slapped at his hand. “lando!” you gasped, glancing over at your friends on the other side of the yacht.

“yes, pretty girl?” he said, and who were you to say no to such a sweet little smile? even if it was intending to fool you, you melted at it and threw away your doubts for it. your hand slid around his wrist, peeling his hand from under your bikini top, and laced your fingers in his.

and with your hand joint together, you leapt off the side of the boat, broke through the surface of the salty water together. but only you resurfaced.

lando held his breath. under the privacy of the disturbed water, he swam down until his face was level with your fluttering legs. his hands once again found your hips, but this time he took hold of your bikini bottoms.

he slowly slid them down your kicking legs until they rested halfway down your thighs. still kicking your legs to float, lando waited until he become familiar with your motions. he waited until he spotted a gap between your kicking thighs, one that was big enough for his head. his open mouth pushed out the salt water, and he licked a stripe over your exposed slit. even under water he could taste you.

your thighs clenched and you bucked your hips into his touch. lando’s cheeks stretched for his grin, and he kept grinning as he circled his tongue over your bundle of nerves, holding you hostage with big strong hands to your thighs. but eventually, he had to resurface to take a breath.

but he couldn’t breathe when he joined you above the water.

he couldn’t breathe because he worried the sudden rush of blood to his cock might weigh him down to the seabed.

there you were, treading water and scowling at him, and yet all he could see was the salt water in your hair. weighing it down, darkening it, plastering strands of it over your damp forehead.

lando couldn’t look away.

“you’re not drowning, are you?” you asked him, and for a moment he considered that’s what might be happening. swallowing mouthfuls of salt water, losing the fight to stay afloat, all because his cock was vacuuming the blood from his legs. it was quite wonderful, really. his brain kindly blocking out the fear of impending doom so that his final picture could be of you.

moments passed and suddenly lando was very aware that he was not drowning. he couldn’t be, because if he was drowning, he wouldn’t have been able to slip a hand under his bloated swim shorts and squeeze his solid cock.

you didn’t notice. you obliviously treaded water, and even though the motion made your breasts bounce, lando couldn’t find it in him to notice. and lando always noticed your breasts.

“lando?” you asked again and only then did he realise he’d not answered you. he’d just been fisting his cock underwater, barely treading water enough to keep his head above the surface.

worse, he forgot his friends were in view.

he glanced up at the boat, and to his relief, everybody was busy looking at something in another direction to his one.

he released his cock nonetheless and slipped his hand out of his swim shorts. he moved it to your ass cheek and leaned in to press a kiss to your wet cheek.

“spaced out for a second there,” he lied.

“nearly drowned, more like,” you shot back, and he cupped a hand and dragged it up, splashing your face with water. the shriek was enough to satisfy lando that he’d quashed any suspicion you might’ve had about his drowning.

you planted a kiss to his lips and made for the ladder on the side of the boat. as you swam, your hair suffered the blows of salty waves, and lando’s shorts suddenly grew even tighter. when you re-emerged on the ladder, your hair was heavy, dark, sleek, and so dense with the water that eagerly dripped down your back, over the curve of your ass, and down the thighs he’d just stuffed his head between. he wondered, naturally, if water would drip from your hair onto his cock if you sucked him off right now

“you coming?” he heard you call, already halfway up the ladder on the side of the yacht.

“soon,” he promised, and gestured for you to get back on deck.

and he kept his promise. he swam to the ladder after you’d settled back on the boat, spread across some cushions strewn across the deck. lando climbed up a few steps, but only to the point where he could just about make out your whole body.

he glanced over at where his friends were gathered on the other end of the boat. perfect. they were too busy throwing back beers to notice the absence of either of you, and they probably wouldn’t even notice lando perched on the ladder if they happened to glance over. probably.

satisfied, lando peeked up at you, one arm curled through the rungs of the ladder as his other hand squeezed at the tent in his shorts. he kept himself shielded behind the railing, which at this angle would hide him from you if you turned around to look in his direction.

he doubted you would. not while you laid on your tummy, nose in a magazine, thong wedged immodestly between your ass cheeks. but lando paid no mind to anything but the darkened, heavy hair that clung to your back. so, so wet

if he pressed a hand against you hair, he knew water would gush out. his cock twitched, and suddenly his hand was slipping underneath the waistband of his shorts again.

he squeezed his fingers around his painfully stiff cock and hissed as he slowly rolled his wrist up and down it. it was solid. not hard, but fucking solid. did he normally have such prominent veins that he could feel them bulge under his skin? were his balls always sticking up so high, like they too wanted to take a peek at you? he suddenly thought about asking you those questions with his cock pointed right at your face.

he should show you his painfully stiff cock and let you examine him. you’d know. you’d have all the answers he’s looking for. he knew it, because never once has he ever had to ask you to pay attention to his cock. you were always volunteering to fall to your knees for his cock, and you’d always insist on pumping his cum over your face, down onto your tits, and sometimes you’d even get back up to your feet just to bend over for him to finish on your ass.

that’s always his favourite move of yours. what kind of a slut do you have to be to bend over and spread your ass cheeks, just so your boyfriend can choose a hole to cum at, not even in!

so yes, you’d know if his cock was ever usually this hard.

he pictured how you’d peer over your magazine right now and stare up at his cock, eyes narrowed with focus. you’d run your eyes over his thick shaft, maybe then your lips. you’d squint at the plump veins his thumb kept brushing over as he pumped to your wet hair, and maybe you’d have to run your tongue over them just to be sure.

maybe you’d take him in your mouth, to investigate his cock a little closer. he ran his index finger up the middle of his balls, the same way he thought you’d do with your tongue, and then he dragged it up to his tip, imagining the wet trail your tongue would leave behind. lando’s thumb replaced his finger to swirl around the tip, collecting the precum dribbling out of his cock. you’d lick it off. lando was certain of it, because he’d watched you do it so many times before.

you suddenly turned the page of your magazine. lando flinched at the sharp thwick and froze. he stared helplessly as you whipped your head to the side, wet hair flying over your shoulder and landing on your back with a slap. you’d caught him. he knew it. he squeezed his eyes shut pathetically and wished for you to turn back around. but then he felt the droplets of water from your hair land on his chest.

suddenly lando remembered a night you shared together in his hotel room in monza. he had your legs hooked over his shoulders, raw cock pounding your pink, sopping wet slit. he’d never seen a girl’s pussy actually pour before. but yours did. every thrust of his cock drew out a slosh of juice, until you suddenly pressed your hands against his chest in alarm, but it was too late.

over his chest, and even in his face, you covered him with your juices. he made you squirt. no, lando norris made you spray. just like lando norris made champagne bottles spray on podiums.

and here he was, perched on the side of a ladder, droplets of water – your water – dripping down his chest and landing on his cock like lube, as he pathetically pounded his cock to you.

he must have been red in the face, and he was panting so loud he worried you might catch him. but when you flicked another page and whipped another wave of droplets from your hair onto his chest, he caught the flash of your little smirk.

you knew.

his wrist sped up and he squeezed his leaking tip even tighter, as if it really was your tight pussy gripping onto him. he was bullying his cock for you. and when a droplet of water sank from your hairline to your lips, your tongue poked out to lick it.

his abs tightened and his balls shot up, and he wasn’t thrown but forced into his release.

his friends weren’t far, and you were close enough that his panting was too loud to hide from you any longer. but he didn’t care. not as much as he cared about covering your wet hair with his cum. so he hung off the side of the ladder, cock in hand, fist fucking himself through his orgasm to your wet hair as he came on the side of his own yacht.

but right as the ropes of cum shot out of his tip, charles’ head popped into view.

“lando?” he asked.

lando very nearly fucked a hole through the side of the boat as he threw his hips against it. from this new angle, charles wouldn’t be able to see his cock or the cum spilling out of it. hopefully.

charles frowned and asked, “what are you doing down there? are you stuck?”

lando caught you glancing over your shoulder at him—was that a smirk on your face?—and for a second the ropes of cum shooting out of his cock felt a little less awkward. but he quickly forgot about that as charles bent down further and offered out a hand.

“let me help you, mate.”

“no!” lando choked out, humping the side of the boat against his will. “no, it’s- i’m okay,” he said, suddenly aware that the hand charles’ motioned to take was actively being covered in cum.

charles was all he could seem to focus on now and he squeezed his eyes shut to ignore him. this isn’t the face he wanted to be cumming to.

“please go away,” lando nearly begged.

charles left right as the last dribble of cum leaked out, and in defeat lando let himself slide back into the water. he floated on his back and wondered if his sudden bad luck was to be blamed on moving to monaco.

it must be an ancestral curse. punishment for fleeing rainy britain for hot, sunny monaco. now he was to be plagued by wet hair and forced to cum looking into the eyes of his monegasque friend instead of his girlfriend. hah! that’ll show him to think twice about leaving!

and it did.

lando considered handing in his letter of resignation. selling the keys to his penthouse in monaco. going into hiding somewhere charles would never think to go looking for him.

but on his back, floating helplessly in the sea, he saw you climbing halfway down the stairs. the water still dripped down your back as you swiped your finger through the cum he left on the side of the boat. you threw your head over your shoulder, looking right into his eyes as you sucked his cum from the pad of your finger, as water droplets fell onto lands chest once again.

in view of his friends or not, he didn’t care anymore. he dipped his hand underneath the waist band of his swim shorts again, running his own cum over his cock as lube as you sank into the sea.

and when you eventually resurfaced, it was with hair so dark, so sleek, and so fucking wet.

yachting with lando… dreamy. like, comment, reblog. love <3

[muchosbesitos]

DOUBLE OR NOTHING

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

FEATURING: toji fushiguro x wife! reader

CONTENTS: non canon compliant/au, marriage problems, talks of divorce, angst, smut, porn w/out plot rly, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, doggy, missionary against a wall, pet names (ma, princess, etc.)

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: repost bc i need this dilf in my bed rn 😞

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers. 

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

[revelboo]

i managed to get my best friend into tf by luring her in with starscream, and now we both eagerly await your newest additions to the starscream x reader storyline so we can read it together after work (we both wanna kiss that silly bot stupid)

Aww thank you! Starscream’s too fun to write and a friend is how I got dragged into the TF fandom originally, too.

18+ 🌶️

Everything is Alright Pt 36

Starscream x Reader- Pent up

• Again. You’re gone again and he makes himself set your things down carefully instead of smashing them even though his wings and servos are trembling with worry and anger. Then he notices the datapad he gave you to play with. You’ve doodled him a crude little stick figure Soundwave and scribbled a message in your weird little human characters that take him a moment to decipher. ‘With Soundwave. Safe.’ Because you knew he’d worry finding you gone. Venting with a soft growl, he heads toward Soundwave’s quarters. Sooner or later he’d need to have a little discussion with the other mech about taking his pet.

• A discussion that will have to wait, he realizes as soon as he enters Soundwave’s quarters and the mech doesn’t even glance up from where he’s working. Not that Starscream notices the slight, he’s too focused on the way you’re curled together with two of the cassettes. Asleep. And as much as he wants, needs, to scoop you up and take you home, you look peaceful like that. So even though it rubs him the wrong way, he leaves you to Soundwave a bit longer and heads to the wash racks instead.

• The big space is thankfully empty and he stretches out his wings as he tips his face into the warm spray, optics shuttering. Remembering the last time and your flustered attempts to hide your body from him. Your all too obvious distress when he’d mass shifted to dry you, and the way you’d fit against him like that, warm and soft and his. Those errant thoughts at the back of his processor stirring at the memory of soft, little hands on him. The way you look sleeping against him. How red your face gets sometimes when he strokes a servo against your cheek or down your arm, your scent changing into something that pulls at him.

• Savoring the heat and feel of water sluicing over him as his wings flick, he checks that he’s still alone. It’s a relief to free his spike, servos curling around himself as he braces a palm against the wall. The heated water against his metal skin as he strokes himself and pretends it’s soft hands sliding over him. Wrapping around his spike. Denta bared, he works himself, hips bucking as he chases that high to the memory of the shape of you. Knows it’s taboo, but he needs this.

• What kind of sounds do you make lost in pleasure? Are you soft all over? Remembers the way you’d used your hands to cover yourself, hiding from him. He’d seen a glimpse, though. Enough to suggest you might fit together as different as you are. It’s a dangerous thought, burning through him, thrumming in his spark. Hips snapping faster as his servos fist himself tighter, strokes becoming rougher, until he hisses through his denta as he comes apart, wings trembling.

• Venting roughly, he washes himself with shaking servos. Tries to put it out of his processor. You’re his and that’s enough, but he’s always been greedy, wanting everything. That warmth in him chilling slightly as he remembers the scent of that stranger in your home. In your bed and he grits his denta. Wanting more, but, there in the back of his processor, the very real worry that pushing for it might ruin what he has now. And that is everything.

Previous

Next

[boybandbaby]

A Night To Remember (Evan Buckley x SingleMom!Reader)

word count: 2267

warnings/tags: single mom reader, a child, v light angst, unspecified reason for father’s absence (let you mind run wild), as always if I’ve missed anything lmk

note: not entirely happy about this but I really wanted to do this concept also sorry if your name is Evie I tried to use a name I liked but something I don’t see most people have

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Your daughter had hopped in the backseat without her usually greeting. With you she was a chatterbox, rambling about her day and what her friends did during school. With new people, she was shy. She’d hide behind your legs as you introduced her to strangers. She takes a while to open up but once she comes out of her shell, she’s a social butterfly.

You’re not sure why she’s so quiet now and she won’t tell you. She sits in the back seat, feet still as her favorite song plays, a pout on her lips as she looks out the window.

You’re worried. Worried that maybe someone had bullied her or that she’d gotten into trouble somehow. No, the school would’ve called.

You make your way home, opening her door to help her out. She hops out and doesn’t hold your hand as you make your way into the complex.

“Did something happen at school?” You inquire.

She shakes her head as you unlock your door. She runs inside and kicks her shoes off, creating a tripping hazard. You figure it’s better to not poke the bear right now and don’t remind her of the rules to put her shoes on the shoe rack.

“Can I do my homework after dinner?” She finally speaks.

“Are you sure? Buck’s coming over, I thought you guys were going to play that new board game he got for you?” You help her take her back pack off.

“I want to go to my room.” She mumbles.

“You don’t want your after school snack? I was going to make you some celery and apples with peanut butter.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Babe, what’s wrong?” You kneel down to her height, brushing hair from her forehead.

“Nothing!” She pushes your hand and runs to her room, door slamming behind her.

You decide to give her some space as you take the groceries out that you bought for dinner. Your mind races with what you could have done to upset her.

Buck arrives about an hour later. His smile drops when he sees the stressed look on your face. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You usher him in and pull him in for a hug. “It’s Evie.” You whisper though you know she can’t hear. “She was quiet the whole ride home and then when we got home, she bolted to her room.”

“Let me go say hi, I’ll be back to help set the table.” He smiles. He makes his way through the apartment to her room.

He knocks twice before opening the door just a crack. “Evie? It’s Buck. I just wanted to say hi and let you know dinner is ready.”

He hears her sniffles. “Come in.”

He smiles despite hearing that she’s been crying. When they first met, she was too shy to even look at him but over the last few months they’ve became besties. Buck of course spoils her and she loves it.

“Hey, you having a bad day?” He softly asks. She nods, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand and putting her pencil down on her open folder which lays on her lap.

Buck gets onto his knees at the side of her bed. “Wanna tell me what happened?” He brushes her hair away from her face and pulls it back behind her shoulders.

Instead of talking, she pulls a pink flyer from behind the worksheet she was writing on. She hands it to Buck.

Elementary School Father Daughter Dance

Saturday February 1st at 6pm

Gymnasium

Please purchase tickets by January 29th. $15 per pair

Dinner | Dancing | Games

“You’re upset because you want to go to this?” He clarifies. She nods.

“My friend Tammy said she’s going with her daddy and my other friend Julie doesn’t have a dad like me but she’s going with her older brother.” Her lip wobbles. “I don’t have anyone to go with.”

“Hmmm. And you don’t want to go with mom?”

“Mommy is a girl.”

“Some people have two mommies instead of a mommy and a daddy and some people have two daddies.” He informs her.

“How does that work?”

“Okay maybe I should let your mom have that talk with you.” He rubs the back of his neck. “How about we go eat dinner and we can show mom the flyer? And if she is okay with it and you’re okay with it, I can go with you.”

“You’ll go with me? Even if you’re not my daddy?”

“Yeah, I’d love to take you. I’m not a good dancer though.” He warns.

“Thank you! Thank you!” She squeals, leaping forward to hug him.

Buck rubs her little back, pulling her up as he stands. “You ready to eat?”

She nods and rests her head on his shoulder as Buck hands her the flyer to hold.

You’re already serving three plates when they come out. You’re smiling when you see that Buck’s gotten her out of her mood.

“Everything good?” You raise a brow at him as you set a fork down by each plate.

“Yes mommy. I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier.” She wiggles down Buck’s front and runs to your side. She hugs your legs, the flyer crinkling against your thighs.

“What’s that you got there?” You point to the paper. She steps back and looks to Buck who nods at her, encouraging her to discuss the dance with you.

You read over the paper and look at her. “I want to go with Buck, pleaseeee.”

“So, this is why you were upset?” You place a hand, palm up, under her chin. “Did you ask Buck already to go with you?” She nods.

“If you’re okay with it, I’d be happy to take her.” He steps in.

“You’d do that?” You look at him, eyes glossy. “It’s not too much to ask?”

“Of course not. It’s important to her and you’re both important to me.” He opens the fridge and gets the juice and two water bottles out.

“Then I guess it’s a date.” You shrug, leaning down to kiss Evie’s forehead.

When dinner is over, Buck helps Evie finish her homework sheets. She’s too burnt out from excitement and her earlier crying that she heads to bed early.

She’s old enough to dress herself and brush her teeth, only asking for help putting the toothpaste on the brush.

After Buck helps her off the step stool, he helps tuck her into bed as you fix her nightlight. She falls asleep with a smile on her face, excited to tell her friends that she will be going to the dance.

You and Buck settle into your bed, changed into pajamas and comforted pulled down the bed.

“Buck?” You ask, nervously, as you slip into your side of the bed.

He hums, fluffing the pillow he always uses when he sleeps over.

“You sure you’re okay with taking Evie to the dance? I know we haven’t really talked about your role in her life. I’m not saying I’m expecting you to be her father or stepfather or anything like that and I know you said you were okay with me having a kid. I guess I’m just worried I’m forcing you to take on responsibility.”

“Breathe baby.” He leans into the bed, crawling closer to the middle. “You’re not forcing me to do anything. I love being with you and being your boyfriend and yes you have a daughter but that doesn’t bother me. I love spending time with you both. I like being part of your family.”

“You’re so sweet. I just don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “Don’t even think like that. I’m honored that she wants me to go with her and I’m grateful you’re letting me part of her and your life. Okay?” He holds your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you. You’re too good to us.”

“Stop.” He feels a blush creeping up onto his neck.

Just days before the dance, you all go to the mall so that Buck and Evie can get matching outfits.

She’s very adamant about wearing a red dress and requires Buck to wear something red too.

Buck had decided to get ready before he came over for the dance. He also stopped to run some errands before coming over.

Evie had asked you to do her hair and if she could wear makeup. You settled for some sheer lip gloss to satisfy her.

She was pacing the living room. “Mommy! Buck is going to be late.”

“Babe, the dance is in an hour. He’s on his way.” You laugh, pouring yourself something to drink. “Just sit in the couch and relax.”

“I can’t relax! I’m so excited.” She jumps up and down. Buck knocks on the door and she runs. “He’s here! He’s here! Can I open the door?”

“Just this once.” You follow her, standing behind her.

When she opens the door, Buck stands there looking handsome as always. He’s holding a small bouquet of flowers, a pink heart balloon, and a small teddy bear.

“Ah!” Evie screams, holding her hands out for her gifts.

“Hi! You look so pretty.” He kisses her forehead. She giggles and runs to put her gifts on her bed. “She gets it from her mom.”

“You’re a smooth talker, Buck.” You grin at him. “And where’s my gift?”

“Right here.” He winks and pulls you into him by your waist. His lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. You only break away when Evie clears her throat.

“You should’ve seen her. She was more nervous than I was for our first date.” You laugh.

“Is that so?” He picks her up. “No need to be nervous little lady. We’re going to have a great night!”

“You’ll dance with me and my friends?” She pokes at his cheek.

“Of course, we’ll dance all night.” He kisses her cheek.

You kiss them both goodbye and assure Buck you’ll keep your ringer on in case he needs anything.

Buck is a gentleman as always as he opens the door for her both in the car and at the school. Her hand clings to his and he can see the nerves in her little eyes as she looks around the gym.

Her eyes widen and she taps Buck’s side, pointing at her friend Tammy who is sitting at a table with her father. Buck guides her over to the table and asks if they can join them. Buck makes small talk with the man as the kids show each other their dresses and sparkly shoes.

When it’s time, Buck helps serve Evie and helps tuck a napkin into her neckline. He’s at her beck and call, getting her cups of punch and cookies from the dessert table.

They end up winning one of the games due to Buck’s competitive nature. They win gift certificates for a local ice cream shop and promise to go next weekend. They then spend the night dancing (jumping and twirling) to pop music.

Buck’s burnt out, he thinks he might be more tired than a shift at the station. He’s sent you loads of videos and pictures throughout the night, even FaceTimed you to show you the decorations.

Your heart has swelled up with joy and love for your daughter and for Buck. It’s been hard for both of you without her father so her being able to have this experience makes you so happy. And Buck, I mean how could you not love him even more after this? He went out of his way to create a special experience for her without hesitation.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the front door open, having just given Buck a spare key. You both shared an emotional moment when you gave it to him but it was bound to happen sooner or later and you felt the sooner the better.

You click the volume to mute and stand from the couch just as he’s approaching. He looks beat and tired with droopy eyes but he carries Evie’s sleeping form. Though she’s asleep, she holds onto him for dear life.

“Hey.” You whisper and lean up to kiss him. “I can take her.”

He shakes his head, “I got her. Let’s tuck her in. She’ll be too sleepy for a bath.”

You nod and plan to get her all washed up first thing in the morning. You help pull the blankets from her bed as Buck lays her down. You both take one foot each and unbuckle her shoes. He hands you the shoe and you place them in her closet.

After a kiss to the forehead and a flick of the nightlight, you both exit. Buck wraps his arms around you, his chest resting against your back. He tucks his chin into your neck.

“Sleepy?”

“Yes.” He groans. “I have not danced that much since I was a kid. But I had so much fun, she’s such a good kid. You’re such a good mom.”

You blush, cheeks flaming. “She is. Thank you for doing this.” You’re glad he can’t see your face. You’re about to burst into tears.

“I love doing stuff like this for her. And for you. You deserve a night for just you and to not worry about doing all this alone.”

“I love you, you know that?” You turn in his arms.

“Don’t cry.” He urges, hands rubbing up and down at your sides before his thumb wipes a stray tear on your cheek. “I love you. I’ll be here for you both. Always.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

[setmeatopthepyre]

thunk it thursday tagged in fuck it friday by @bidisasterevankinard (thank you! I was brainstorming a good excuse to share this) but it's still thursday here so... behold, the new wip that I am calling phosphorescence fic as a working title. shout out to @sugarpenchant & @trombonechurchill for lending their thoughts & letting me yap

-

The first time Buck runs into Tommy at a call, his heart feels like a bird battering his rib cage from the inside. He'd finally gotten around to not actively searching for Tommy whenever the 118 were called to anything bigger than a two alarm fire, half convinced Tommy must've traded to a different shift despite the fact Buck knew that would've thrown Tommy's carefully planned social life into disarray. Buck never checked with Eddie to confirm or deny his suspicions. He wasn't sure what he'd do with either answer.

Which... leaves him completely unprepared for the sight of Tommy, tall, broad in his turnouts, face soot-streaked like when he showed up like some sort of action hero to Maddie and Chimney's hospital wedding. Buck feels himself stumble, relocates his feet, and finds Tommy staring straight at him with an expression that must mirror his own. Surprise. Heartache. Sadness. Tommy's eyes glimmer in the lights of the vehicles around them, and Buck hopes.

That's when Cap calls for him over the radio and Buck has to turn away and do his job. Still, that flutter of hope remains wedged between his ribs. If Tommy is even half as heartbroken as he looks, then Buck stands a chance and at this point, he'll take any chance he can get.

That night, after returning to the station and before crawling into a bunk for some shut-eye, Buck texts Tommy.

-

Tommy doesn't text him back.

Buck watches the single checkmark turn to two, but after that... nothing. No texts, no calls, no bubbles. Nothing.

The next day: still nothing.

“I think something's wrong with Tommy,” Buck says as he catches up to Eddie at the firehouse gym. “He hasn't texted me back.”

Eddie takes another step or two, then halts mid-stride and turns. “Hold on, you texted Tommy?”

“Yes, a-and he's read them, but that's it. What if something happened?”

Eddie mulls it over, taking a seat on the weight bench. “Like what?”

“I-I don't know. An-- an accident. What if he never made it home after the call yesterday?”

Eddie sighs, lays back on the bench. Grips the bar. “He made it home, Buck.”

Buck frowns and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Promptly uncrosses them again when Eddie unracks the barbell, ready to spot him. “Y-Yeah? How do you know that?”

Eddie doesn't look at him, keeps his eyes trained on the iron bar above as he moves the weight up and down in slow, precise movements. “Because,” he huffs between reps, “he texted me.”

“He... he texted you?” Buck says slowly.

“Yes, he texted me. He went out to some bar after his shift and then he drunk-texted me when he got home. He's fine. Probably hungover.” Eddie huffs his way through another rep or two, three, four.

“He drunk-texted you? What-- uh, what did-- what did he drunk-text you about?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him and Buck supposes his attempt at casual might have fallen just a little bit short of the mark. “Are you going to just repeat everything I'm saying, but like it's a question?” Eddie asks. He racks the weight again. “What I can tell you is, Tommy's fine. Well, he made it home okay. Okay? If he didn't text you back...” he shrugs. “Maybe he had a different reason. Or he needs more time.”

And Buck, well. Buck can give him time. He can do that. He knows what he saw in Tommy's eyes. He knows Tommy saw it in his, too. If Tommy needs time, that's what he'll get.

But, he decides, the next time he sees Tommy at a call, he's going to talk to him.

-

The next time Buck sees Tommy at a call, he's ready for it. He's had a few practice runs by now, three and four-alarms with the 217 on scene but no Tommy with the ground crew. Plenty of time to hype himself up, to imagine what might happen, what he could say. How Tommy would look at him.

The thing is. The problem is. Tommy doesn't look at him.

It's-- weird, really. The next time they're both at a scene, Buck spots him only a short distance away. He watches Tommy's gaze track along towards him and then... go right past. Like he doesn't even see him. Doesn't recognize him. Like Buck's just another set of turnouts in the crowd.

But he's made a promise to himself, and he won't back down now, so Buck marches right up to Tommy and says, “H-hey. Tommy. Uh, hi.”

Tommy looks at him then with something like vague curiosity. “Hey,” he says, plainly. Then recognition flashes, but it's still-- mild. Nothing like the heartache from before. “Hey, Evan.”

Buck will take what he can get, and Tommy calling him Evan again is more than he'd expected... even if unease curls in his gut, prickles at the back of his neck.

“So-- So were back to Evan, huh?” he tries for normal, for a grin, tilts his head.

Tommy smiles easily at him, as if they're right back at the start. As if nothing's happened. “Well, that is your name, isn't it?”

“I-- yeah, I-I guess so. I just thought--” Buck huffs. “Never mind. How, uh. How-- how are you, Tommy? I, uh, texted you.”

“You did? Sorry, Evan. I've been busy,” Tommy says, and glances over his shoulder. “Look, I have to run. See you around?”

Tommy's gone before Buck can even begin to think of a response.

-

“Something's wrong with Tommy.”

“Sure, just let yourself in. No problem at all,” Chimney says blandly from where he's stretched out on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. “Maddie's not here.”

Buck takes a seat on the coffee table, ignoring the way Chim has to lean to see the TV behind him. “I'm not here for Maddie, I'm here for you," he says in a breath. Then adds, "Because you're... you're open-minded.”

Chimney pauses mid-chew. “Open-minded,” he repeats. His eyes narrow. “What kind of weird proposition are you gonna hit me with, Buckley?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing-- not, not a-- It's... Tommy.”

“Tommy Kinard, the one and only?” Chim swings his legs over the edge of the couch, leveraging himself into something of a seated position. “What about him?”

Buck fumbles for the words. Decides, finally, to just get straight to the point.

“I-I don't think Tommy... is, well, Tommy.”

-

tagged a bunch of people yesterday so no tags for now unless you wanna be tagged in which case: tag, you're it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Isn't It Fun?

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: You make a new friend.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You hum as you come up the walk of your building. It isn’t in the best location. In the dark, it’s scarier as a shadow overhangs the door beneath the awning. You reach into your knapsack, hanging from one shoulder, as you eke out the tune to Easy Street offkey.  

As your keys jingle, a shape pops out of the bushes and you scream, throwing the keyring as you turn to sprint back down the pavement. You’re caught from behind as a familiar chuckle rolls up into the moonlit sky. You grunt and elbow Bucky as you realise the trick he’s pulled. 

“Ah, why would you do that?” You wriggle until he lets you go. 

You face him and try to snarl but you’re so relieved it’s just him, you can’t help but smile. 

“Just having some fun. At your expense,” he chuckles and bends to pick up the keys. “Can I give you some advice, dreamy?” He raises your keys and holds them so one points between his fingers. “Keep your keys out, hold em like this and if some creep jumps out of the bushes, stab em good.” 

“Stab-- Buck,” you shake your head. “I can’t do that.” 

“You can if it’s life or death,” he swings the keys around to hang from his thick fingers, “here.” 

“What-- what are you even doing here?” 

“Huh. You didn’t let me ask my question first,” he huffs as he stands back and waves you past. “Why didn’t you tell me you were working late?” 

“Well, firstly, you got lots going on,” you say. “And I didn’t think of it. I’m fine.” 

“Fine, I could be a real bad guy waiting for you out here in the dark,” he taunts. 

“But you’re not. So now my turn, why are you here?” 

“Well, I was wandering by on my way to see a Buster Keaton marathon and thought maybe you’d be up for it...” 

“Tonight? Right now?” 

“I see,” he grabs the door as you opens it and holds it, “you’re too busy. Or maybe you’re too good for me.” 

You enter and he follows. It’s that familiarity that you just sort of fell into with him. He’s like a wise big brother, even if he really is older than your grandpa. It’s the most unexpected bonds that are the strongest. 

“No, not at all, Mr. Hero,” you climb the stairs as he stays a step behind, his hand on the railing right by yours. 

“Ugh, why doesn’t this place have an elevator?” He whines. 

“I thought the serum would give you extra strong legs,” you toss over your shoulder. 

“Whatever.” He clucks, “so how about it? You wanna fall asleep in the theatre with me, dreamy?” 

“Dream-- why do you call me that?” You head down towards your door. 

“You got your head in the clouds. Also, when you watch movies, you get this look in your eyes, like you’re living on screen. Dreamy. See.” He explains. 

“Mm,” you grumble. 

“You don’t like it? I put up with Buckaroo.” 

“That was once and it was a slip-up,” you unlock your door. “Fine, I’ll go with you since you don’t have any other friends.” 

“I have friends.” 

“Sure you do,” you snort and turn to give him a playful wink. You put your keys and bag down on the tall table. “You and Cap, the superfriends. Heroes and buddies til the end—whoa!” 

You hit the shoe rack and stumble, landing on your ass. Bucky is quick enough to save you but he doesn’t. He watches smugly and cackles as your cheeks burn up. 

“Not funny,” you pout. 

“Oh, it is very funny,” he approaches and offers his hand. “How’s that humble pie taste?” 

“Fine. I was being a meanie. I admit it but you got my adrenaline up. I can’t help it.” 

“Ha, yeah, that was good. You shoulda seen the look on your face. And that noise you made.” He hauls you up as his vibranium thumb rubs between your knuckles. “Ayeeeee!” 

“I don’t sound like that.” 

“You do.” He grins. You scowl and he laughs again. “You know I love that face. The day you actually get mad at me, I’ll be down on my knees, dreamy.” 

“Ugh, you are such a...” you let the sentence trail off and the dimple stays in in his cheek as he crosses his arms. 

“I’m a what?” 

“Nothing.” 

“No, say it,” he goads. 

“No.” 

“Come on, I can handle it. You know, I got hit by a truck the other day, I think I can take a few words.” 

“Hit by a truck? Bucky?” You squeal. “Are you okay?” 

“Ah, look at me. I’m fine. Not a scratch. That you can see,” he shrugs. “So what am I? Tell me.” 

“No,” you turn your nose up. 

“Say it. You’ll feel better.” 

“It’s... not nice.” 

“Come on,” he unfolds his arms and flutters his fingers at you, “I am trained in torture.” 

“No,” you grab his hands, his skin rough, “no tickles.” 

“So, tell me.” 

“Not fair,” you struggle to keep his hands away from your sides. 

“Almost...” he wiggles his fingertips a half-inch from your middle. 

“Brat! You’re a brat!” You step back, out of his reach. “Okay, and if you keep being one, you can go to the movies alone.” 

He laughs and grips his hips in victory, “wow, you know, I’ve actually never got that one. Creative.” 

“Right, well, I can’t sit in the theatre in this get-up,” you look down at your frilly plaid overall dress and white blouse.  

“I didn’t get to mention that yet. It’s a choice, as the young ones say.” 

You cringe, “it’s my work uniform.” 

“Uniform?” He squints. 

“Don’t, okay? I get enough guff from the customers.” 

“Guff? Oh, that’s language I understand.” 

“Ergh,” you stomp your foot. “You are so... so... old.” 

You turn and march away. He laughs and you turn into your bedroom. He just loves to tease you and despite your efforts, he always gets to you. At least he’ll have to be quiet during the movie.