#finally got it though now i'm fucking unstoppable

[cod-indulgences]

TF141 x female!reader, poly tf141, oral, nipple and breast abuse, overstimulation, vibrators, squirting, Dom/sub, subspace, free use dynamics

under the cut for length

part 2 of this

Soap makes it to the car first by virtue of being a dirty cheater, yanking Gaz back by the shirt collar with a whoop. He barely waits for the door to slide closed before he's on you, yanking your skirt up and panties down. Gaz picks up the discarded bit of cloth and fucking smells it, holding your gaze as he licks the soaked cotton.

Your pussy clenches and Johnny moans, settled right at eye level with your clit, thumbing your folds apart to lick up your come with a flat, hot tongue. You squeal and reach for Gaz as Price and Simon climb into the front, needing someone to hold onto as Soap shoves his tongue into you with no warning.

He's enthusiastic with your pussy, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it hard enough to make you shout, Gaz groping your breasts as you squirm. Soap can't move, he's wedged into the footwell between Price's seat and yours, which means his broad shoulders have your thighs splayed and your body wedged back into your seat, no escape from his mouth. The vibrator is still in you as well, curved up against your g-spot, and you keep clamping down on it when Soap drags you close to coming. He won't let you get there though, the fucker, and you gasp for Price to have mercy on your poor swollen clit, just let you come, you behaved at the bar-

Price laughs and shakes his head. "Still not my decision love," he says, and you look at Simon who waves the remote at you cheekily.

"Not sure I like you looking to him first, you know I've got the control tonight," he says, and "Gaz, go ahead and get rough with her tits if she's having a hard time not coming."

You moan in despair as Soap wiggles his tongue along your hole where the vibrator sits, and Gaz drags your shirt up and off, bra coming with it in a tangle of elastic. Your skirt is just a belt around your waist now and you whine as Gaz kisses your neck, soft and sweet, before he gets your nipple in his hand and pinches. You yelp and then shout louder as he squeezes, your nipple crushed between his thumb and finger, unable to push him away enough for relief. When he finally lets go you gasp and shudder, sobbing as Soap pops his mouth off your clit.

"You act like you hate it, bonnie, but I'm fucking near drowning in your cunt," he says, and rubs his jaw through your pussy to prove it, letting the other men hear the wet sloppy sounds. Gaz groans, and you flinch as he pinches your other nipple, but he lets go before he can bruise it like the other- instead, oh fuck, he's slapping your tits instead, hard smacks of his hand that make you yelp, pinned down between both men. Each suck and lick at your cunt drags you closer to orgasm, each smack on your breasts startles you out of it, Gaz pinching ruthlessly when he thinks you're getting too close. Your breasts are soon marked with little red bruises, your nipples swollen and sore where he's twisted them and tugged until you sobbed at him to let go, and your clit is a solid hot throb between your legs.

Then Simon turns the vibrator on.

You scream loud enough Price's hands jerk at the wheel. "Fuck, fuck, Simon please I need to come I need it please- please, god, oh fuck oh god, Simon, Simon please please please!!" Soap's on your clit, sucking it so hard he's got nearly your whole pussy pulled into his mouth; Gaz has twisted himself around to get both hands on your tits and is pulling your nipples so tight you think they're going to come off, and through it all the vibrator buzzes, unstoppable, stronger and stronger until you don't have anything left in you but the hair-thin control of not allowed to come yet.

Under your screaming and Soap's moaning and Gaz's swearing you hear a command you'd die for right now.

"You can come, love."

You know you scream again, back arching as much as it can, and your eyes roll back as you come and come and come, a full body spasm that doesn't stop, because Simon hasn't turned the vibrator back off.

You sob and beg, weeping, Gaz releasing your nipples with a rush of blood back to the abused flesh that stings and burns, and when finally the damned thing falls quiet you collapse against Gaz, limp.

Soap lays his head against your thigh, panting, and through the come-drunk haze you hear him gasp "Fuck Si, I wasn't joking about drowning, she just squirted down my fucking throat," and you hear him groan and shudder between your legs- oh, he was jerking off to you coming, and there's a wet splatter on your pussy as his come streaks over you.

Gaz moans and thumbs your nipples, and you whine, too fucked to protest, as he drags you to lay across the seat. Your mouth falls open as he gets his cock out and works it between your lips, holding your head in both hands and fucking up into your mouth like a sex toy- you can't move, and just let him take you, drooling down his cock. You can't even muster up the energy to choke when his cock bumps into your throat, then deeper. Everything is too soft, too blissed out and fucked out, your body thrumming with phantom sensations as Gaz uses your throat. He comes fast, pushing you down all the way, and you manage to swallow some of his come before he lifts you up and the rest drools out down your chin.

The door opens- oh, you're home. Simon looks at you upside down from where your head hangs over Gaz's lap.

"sweet thing, you look rode hard and put away wet," he comments, and you giggle at him.

"Not rode an'thin yet Siiii," and he lifts you up and carries you in where Price has turned the lamps on in the bedroom. Soap and Gaz trail behind you, the two men stumbling up the steps, come drunk on their own.

Simon spills you out onto the bed, and you smile giddily up at Price as he strips the belt from his pants, and snaps the leather.

[biblicallyaccuratemeat]

Satin

Part 1

MDNI!!

A/N: Wow the long awaited part two to Velveteen. I had to basically put a gun to my head to finish this :') I rewrote this way too many times, I'm not entirely pleased with the finished product but I WROTE THE THING!! And that will always be a victory in my book. I have yet to see Thunderbolts* because I have absolutely no time to go to the movies but!! When I do see it, get ready babes, I will be unstoppable. UM anyway, thanks to @ethanhoewke as always for being insane with me and helping me flesh this out, ily babe. Bucky Barnes x female reader, morning after, morning sex, oral sex (fem receiving), developing relationship, fluff & smut, Bucky recovering from being the WS, two dumbass cutie pies being horny or whatever <3

ALSO!!! If anyone wants to blow up my inbox with some Bucky requests, please do! I love writing for this 100 year old emotionally repressed fossil <3

Word count: 4.2k

Too bright. Way too fucking bright. The golden morning sunshine is searing through your blinds, drawing a whine of protest from your throat. It’s too early, that much is clear to you. Far too early to be awake. You almost want to hiss at the sun like a cartoon vampire being awoken from an eternal slumber. Shifting in the bed, trying to get your wits about you, two things become abundantly clear to you. One, you’re sore. Like, really fucking sore, like you got hit by a small bus or thrown through a brick wall. Two, there is without a doubt a man in bed next to you. Your foot brushes across a sleep-warm, hairy calf under the sheets. You can’t bear to open your eyes, opting to keep them screwed shut against the sun’s laser-like light and the fact that Bucky definitely stayed the night. 

With a deep breath, you peek one eye open, turning your head to the side. Your eye lands on Bucky, face down on a fluffy pink pillow, snoring like a goddamn chainsaw. His stupidly handsome face is squished into the cotton, brow furrowed like he’s personally affronted by your choice in bedding. One of his arms is thrown haphazardly across your middle and— holy fuck, his arms are fucking huge. Were they that big and beefy last night?! Surely, you’d remember biceps that fucking large. Your eyes hungrily rove over the tan, scarred flesh. God, he’s delicious, you’d sink your teeth into the fat and muscle right now if it wasn’t going to wake the poor man up. 

Trying oh so carefully to wiggle free from Bucky’s heavy, comforting weight, you reach blindly for your phone. Hand rooting and tapping uselessly along your side table, knocking just about every other item over in the process before your fingertips finally find purchase on it. You swipe it off the table, holding it up and squinting as you read the time. Half past eight, okay, that’s not too early. However, you choose the wrong time to squirm again. Bucky grunts in his sleep, his arm binding tighter around your waist and all but dragging you into his side. 

A surprised squeak bubbles past your lips, you tense up, scarcely allowing yourself to breathe. Who knew he was such a cuddle bug? So, you allow yourself to melt into it a little, because you honestly can’t recall the last time someone held you like this (not to mention after a night of ravenous fucking…)

Your phone, now lying on the mattress next to your hip, buzzes. You snatch it up quickly, hoping that it didn't stir the man next to you. You’re not ready for this impromptu cuddle session to be cut short. 

Girl are you dead?

Oh my god, we’re gonna be on Dateline! Talking about how great of a friend she was and I’ll have to cry on camera and wail about how she didn’t deserve this!! She was too young!!

Your friends are nothing if not dramatic and incessantly nosy. You love them though, like scruffy dogs you pick up from the pound that nobody else really wanted because they honestly seem kind of feral. With one hand, you quickly type out a reply, rolling your eyes at the theatrics of your group of gremlins. Your other hand, because you just can’t help yourself, absentmindedly cards through Bucky’s unfairly thick and soft hair. 

I’m not dead and I wouldn’t want you in my Dateline episode anyway, bitch.

The replies come immediately, in rapid succession, absolutely blowing up the group chat.

Holy fuck!! She lives!!

How did the date go? Did you finally dust those cobwebs out of your pussy? Or rather, did he? 

That’s a horrific visual, though you have to give Faye points for creativity. You’re not even entirely sure how to respond to that, because yes it had been awhile, but it hadn’t been that long. Words are failing you in this moment honestly, so you resort to the most damning option of all. With a trembling hand, you hold your phone a few scant inches above Bucky’s clueless, sleep-slack face. The photo is avant-garde level art. They should hang this shit up in the Louvre or paste it on billboards across the country. The Hello Kitty pillowcase, the strong line of Bucky’s nose buried in the fabric. The way his dark lashes create little spiderweb shadows on his usually so serious, broody face. He’s an angel, plain and simple. Cast down from the heavens to torture you and fuck you better, deeper than any of your ex-boyfriends did. Before you can second guess yourself, you send the photo to the group chat, shoving it under your pillow before you can see the immediate replies.

Buzz…buzz…buzz…

Your canine digs into your lower lip, biting back an exasperated smile. Your friends are, and always have been, veritably insane. You shouldn’t have told them about the date, or the fact that said date is still in your bed, in your apartment. You should have just turned your phone off, allowing yourself to sink into this syrupy, lazy little bubble of perfection. You could get used to having this man in your bed. Absolutely.

Your phone continues its angry vibrating like a little pissed off bumblebee beneath your head. So, you let out a long suffering sigh and check the 9+ notifications awaiting you.

HELLO???

Oh my god, I want to lick that cheekbone. Do I have a cheekbone fetish guys? This is awakening something in me.

Wait a fucking minute!!! Dude, that’s the Winter Soldier. 

Okay, that certainly catches your attention, because no he isn’t…is he? Wide eyes flick between your phone screen and Bucky’s peaceful face with the speed of a caffeinated hummingbird. What did the Winter Soldier even look like? It’s vague and fuzzy in your mind like TV static. You wrack your brain, desperately trying to recall what dominated the news cycle for weeks in 2014. Captain America, Natasha Romanoff, lots of explosions and property damage… A quick google search confirms your friend’s suspicions or rather accusations. There is without a doubt an ex-sleeper agent in your bed, you fucked an ex-sleeper agent. Were you in danger? Oh god, all you had on hand was one of those cheap cans of pepper spray. The only reason you’d really bought it was because it’s sparkly and also you wanted the illusion of self-defense. What the fuck was pepper spray going to do against an assassin? He’d probably sneeze at best and then rip you apart like a rotisserie chicken.

Before you can spiral into a full blown panic attack, complete with hyperventilating and popping an Ativan or two, Bucky groans sleepily, rousing. You freeze, eyes comically wide, lips parting like a child caught with their hand in a proverbial cookie jar. But the fear, the sense of self-preservation, the whole seconds away from shitting your bed, dissipates. It melts away like tissue paper in hot water, because his eyes open and they land on you. They remind you of the sea glass you used to collect as a girl, when your parents would whisk you off to the beach and you’d carry a little bucket around and feed the seagulls corn chips even though your mother explicitly instructed you not to.  His eyes sharpen just for a moment, your anxiety spikes, you hold your breath. And then, oh god, his gaze softens and you can’t help but feel utterly besotted by the very sight.

“Did I do that to you?” Bucky murmurs, sounding absolutely delicious and raspy and gravely. You try to reshape your brain back from the goo his eyes turned it into. He’s asking you a question and you’re sitting there smiling at him like a dope. He taps the side of his neck to emphasize the query, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

Your hand immediately flies up to mirror where his rests, brushing the pads of your fingers lightly down the side of your throat. You can’t bear to break his intense gaze, it feels like divorce, but then you wince because fucking ow! You spring out of bed, stumbling to the vanity, no longer concerned about appearing graceful or effortlessly pretty first thing in the morning. 

“Oh shit,” You breathe, staring at your reflection. You look ran through, like you got passed around a frat party or something within that vein of debauchery. Mascara and that winged eyeliner you were so proud of smeared and running down your cheeks, your neck, your tits absolutely covered in a variety of hickeys, bitemarks, bruises. You look like a demented racoon who got mauled by a particularly aggressive grizzly bear. Time to lock yourself in your bathroom and do some major recon.

Ten or so minutes later, you reappear with minty-fresh teeth and a clean face. A sheepish smile spreads across your lips as you resume your seat next to Bucky, “Uh, yeah, I think you did do that to me.” You quip awkwardly, refusing to meet his eyes, far too interested in fiddling with a loose thread on your fitted sheet. “I mean, obviously I liked it.” You can’t help but glance up quickly, heat burning your cheeks.

“Right,” Bucky snorts, smirking roguishly, and god you swear your pussy has butterflies. “I remember.”

“Hungry!” You blurt out, springing off the mattress, far too shy and idiotic to even attempt to carry on that particular route of conversation. “Are you hungry? I am definitely hungry! We should eat! In the kitchen.”

You attempt to smile, but it feels all wrong on your face, crooked and stilted by your own mortification at your lack of social graces. You don’t need to see the way your entire body is turning a rather unflattering shade of pink from the tips of your ears, down your chest-- you can feel it and it only worsens the matter. Bucky just huffs in amusement, a man of few words outside of rearranging your guts it seems, “Sure, doll. I’ll meet you out there.”

You all but sprint to the kitchen, eager to remove yourself from the situation before you further embarrass yourself. Thank fuck you cleaned your apartment before your date, the usual state its in would warrant entering the witness protection program if Bucky saw it. Unfortunately, you hadn’t anticipated preparing a full breakfast spread, so you find the bare bones of your pantry. Cup of noodles, a brown banana (unclear to you if it’s really ripe or hazardous), and whole milk that’s one day out from being past its expiration date. Wonderful.

“What’s for breakfast?” Bucky's voice comes from behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin, the way he snuck up on you could have very well sent you to an early grave. Definitely was an efficient assassin, you’ll give him that.

“Oh, um, I’m not sure…” You mumble, back to Bucky, acting as if you’re perusing an entire treasure trove of options. “Do you like noodles and milk?” You ask tentatively, peeking at him over your shoulder.

He blinks, seemingly unsure if you’re joking around, and if you aren’t, he has no clue how to respond.

“What type of noodles?” He asks after a moment, crossing his thick arms, leaning back against the kitchen island.

“The cup kind,” You mutter, glaring a hole into the tile.

“I’m sorry?” Buck huffs, tilting his head to the side like an adorably confused puppy, a puppy who’s had over two dozen confirmed kills.

“Um,” You lick your lips, your mouth feeling suddenly bone dry, an explanation sticking to the roof of your mouth like bubblegum, “You know, cup of noodles? It’s like, a styrofoam cup and there’s ramen in it with seasoning. You put hot water in it… the, uh, packaging actually says not to microwave it, but who listens to that anyw--”

Your lame little rambling is cut off by the gentle pressure of Bucky’s lips slotting against yours, his large hands cupping your face, holding you like you’re the most precious, delicate thing in the world. You melt, your train of thought fizzling out into goo, so you press up onto your tiptoes, eagerly returning the kiss. Bucky starts to move away, but you spring forward, chasing his lips, whining like the needy little thing you are. 

He chuckles, lips barely brushing yours, murmuring, “So you have noodles in a cup?”

“Cup of noodles,” You correct breathlessly, pupils blown wide as saucers after taking that mainline of pure Bucky.

“Tomatoe, tomato,” He snorts, slowly sweeping the pad  of his thumb down the bridge of your nose, “Are we having anything else with these noodles? A plate of broth, maybe?”

“Uh, no, just almost sour milk and if you’re really feeling brave, a very brown banana.” You’re silently planning your suicide note, because why of all the times your fridge had to be empty, it’s when Bucky is here after a night of insane sex. Sex that quite frankly, rewired your brain and probably ruined any chance of another man coming close to what Bucky made you feel.

“A very filling spread,” Bucky hums dryly, cracking a small grin. You can’t help but smile in return, your heart doing a funny little flutter. This man is going to give you a heart murmur. 

“Well, I mean, if you’re not busy…” you start, looking anywhere but at him, wringing your hands together shyly, “We could go get breakfast?”

Bucky watches you silently, thinking over your suggestion. “A second date already? Wow, you move fast.” He drawls lazily.

Your face is on fire as you desperately start to back track, “Oh! Um, I mean, you don’t have to! You can leave! I won’t hold you hostage or force you to get breakfast with me. I just thought maybe it would be better than risking it with the banana.”

Buck chuckles, stepping forward, entering your personal space. He still smells like smoke and cinnamon even after a night in your ultra-femme sheets. The rough pad of his finger slips under your chin, tilting your face up towards his. His eyes are the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced, guarded yet so expressive at the same time. 

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, doll. Relax.” He whispers, voice silky and deep. There’s a moment, it’s so brief, so fleeting, you almost don’t catch it. The walls lower for a heartbeat, and Bucky asks so achingly soft, “Was… last night good for you?”

You can’t help but freeze, because is he seriously asking you that? Bucky interprets your silence as a bad thing, his face falling subtly, he shifts on his feet, taking a step backwards that feels like a mile. 

“No! No, I had an amazing time last night. You were amazing,” You blurt out, hands shooting up to gesture wildly. 

Bucky’s relief is a tangible thing, his shoulders lowering, the crease in his brow smoothing out. “Oh, good. I’m glad, I don’t…” he clears his throat, running his vibranium hand through his cropped hair, “I don’t usually do this.” He admits, gesturing vaguely around your apartment, “The whole sex on the first date, spending the night thing.”

The butterflies in your stomach break out into a spontaneous synchronized swimming routine. And you can feel your blood rush to your cheeks and then lower, much lower. It’s flattering, the way he confesses that he doesn’t do this and apparently you’re an exception to his vintage dating etiquette. Though, you’re almost certain there definitely would be a rule in there about not leaving your partner looking like they got mauled by an angry vacuum cleaner.

Not that you’re complaining…

So, you laugh nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I hope I didn’t make you feel pressured or anything.”

Bucky snorts— the man actually snorts, at that statement, as if it’s the funniest joke he’s heard in a long time. “A little thing like you? Pressuring me? Nah, doll, I liked it. I like you.”

Liquid sunshine spreads through your veins and you nod dumbly along with what he’s saying, “Oh, right. You, um, like me, huh?”

He steps into your space, the heat of his body seeping into yours as he gently runs a finger along the curve of your spine, “Yes, I like you. More than I probably should.” He affirms, that exploratory hand coming to rest just above the swell of your ass. It slides down, he squeezes the fat and flesh gently, as if testing the weight of it in his vibranium palm. 

“What a coincidence,” you squeak, all the finesse and coyness from the night before evaporating into the atmosphere, leaving behind your usual awkward self, “I happen to like you too. Not sure about the more than I should part. That makes it sound like I’m in danger…oh god, I’m not in danger, am I?”

Bucky silences you with a searing kiss, his criminally soft lips slotting against yours, rubbing deliciously, pulling a high pitched whine from your throat. The hand on your ass squeezes hard, grounding you, ripping you from your inward spiral. Bucky backs you up against the kitchen counter and with a strength only a super soldier could muster, he sweeps you up, depositing you to sit on the edge of the island. Your thighs part, making space for him to stand between them, and your arms loop around his neck. You deepen the kiss, arching into the hard plane of his chest, fingers threading and tugging at his hair. He groans, low and unbearably sexy, into your mouth, strong arms wrapping around your waist like a python. 

His tongue expertly delves into your mouth, tracing the sharp edges of your teeth, tasting the sleep-sweet saliva welling up beneath your tongue. Emboldened, you wrap your lips around his tongue, sucking the slick muscle, earning another delicious grunt from Bucky. His arms bind around your waist tighter, till you feel like you might pop, splattering the kitchen in one thousand shades of red. There’s barely a breath of space between your bodies, the two of you slotting together like long lost puzzle pieces, reunited at long last. It’s heaven, it’s hell, the kiss is enough, you could cum just like this. Happily, easily, and that’s more than you can say about any other man you’ve been with. 

Bucky breaks the kiss and you whine, feeling as if you might burst into tears if he stops touching you. He shushes you, sinking slowly to his knees on the kitchen tile, peering up at you through dark lashes. Hands gently pull you to the edge of the counter, as he sits back on his haunches. Bucky takes your left foot, holding it in his organic hand as if it’s the most precious thing in the world, placing a worshipful kiss to the inside of your ankle. Kiss after kiss is trailed up the length of your calf, the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble create a juxtaposition of sensations that send goosebumps erupting across your body, fine hairs standing to attention. When Bucky reaches the inside of your knee, his tongue flicks out, tickling the sensitive flesh. You tense up, instincts screaming to wriggle away from the feeling, but Bucky holds you steady. He doesn’t kiss the start of your thigh, opting to just drag his stubble across the smooth skin, back and forth. His teeth nip playfully as he gets closer and closer to the center of your body. Each snap of teeth immediately remedied by a soothing brush of lips. Your cunt flutters, you can feel your heartbeat in your clit, throbbing insistently. Begging for friction, for penetration, for something to ease the molten ache rapidly growing between your legs.

When Bucky reaches the apex of your thighs, he doesn’t move your sleep shorts to the side, not yet. He leans forward, pressing his face into the fabric, into the flesh, and inhales deeply. An obscene, drawn out sniff, and he moans at the salty, musky scent of arousal that greets his nostrils. His fingers dig into your spread thighs, massaging, marking. He kisses your cunt over your shorts, over your underwear. And then, with no further warning or preamble, he rips the fabric off. Cotton falls in tatters to the floor, leaving you bare and flushed to his gaze.

You realize faintly that it’s definitely brighter in your apartment now and neither of you are tipsy, so you should feel at the very least a bit self conscious about Bucky being eye level with your bare cunt but he drags the tip of his nose from the inside of your knee up, up, up to the crevice where your thigh and labia meet. Every coherent thought flies out the window; he licks maddeningly slow, just shy of firm from hole to clit. Your hands scramble to grasp the edge of the counter, hanging on for dear life.

“Oh, fuck!” You curse, throwing your head back, dragging your ass to the edge of the counter, so close to falling off. You’re shaking like a leaf in a storm, Bucky’s mouth is cruel and heavenly in equal measure, finding your clit easily. He sucks the swollen bud into his mouth like a piece of hard candy.

And you decide if Bucky remains a fixture in your life, you will absolutely be tossing out your beloved vibrator. You won’t need it anymore now that you have unrestricted access to Bucky’s hands, Bucky’s mouth, Bucky’s dick…but you’ll still hang onto her for now because if last night and this morning are a two-time thing, you’ll need that pink hunk of plastic to get off to the memory of this perfect moment for the foreseeable future. 

Bucky moans into the folds of your pussy, eating you out ravenously, like he’ll die if he doesn’t make you cum on his tongue at least thrice. His hands grip your thighs harder, spreading you wider, opening you up to him like a delicate flower. You can’t hold yourself up, not in these conditions, so you lie back on the kitchen island. You spread as wide as you can, giving yourself over fully to Bucky’s mouth. 

“Please,” you breathe out, screwing your eyes shut, your entire body pulled taut like a bowstring, “Oh god, please.”

You don’t know what you’re begging for, or what god you’re calling on, all you know is the heat and the suction of his mouth. It’s embarrassing, how easily Bucky manipulates your body, how close he’s bringing you to the precipice after only a few minutes. But fuck, if it doesn’t feel good, the pleasure vastly outweighs the embarrassment. In fact, it feels so mind-numbingly good, you swear your brain is melting and leaking out your ears. Then, Bucky’s tongue swipes, a perfect arc right over where you want him, need him most. You tense up as if you’ve been electrocuted, moaning brokenly.

“Oh my god, right there,” you wheeze, borderline hyperventilating, “Please, just like that. Don’t stop, please.”

Bucky doubles down, his ferocity turning into a beast, and you worry you might just die from this. You clench around nothing, squirming weakly, chasing that ever elusive peak. The warmth turns into a fever pitch, you gasp and whimper, bucking into his mouth, simultaneously wanting to escape and to arch into him. When Bucky’s tongue curls into your cunt, the striking line of his nose digging into your clit, your mouth falls open. You tense up, hardly able to move or breathe. 

Your orgasm spreads through you like a wave, from the hair follicles on your scalp, down to your curling toes. Your spine arches clean off the counter, hips bucking wildly, legs clamping around Bucky’s head. You pant, gasping for air, twitching amidst the aftershocks as Bucky tongue fucks you through every ripple. Only when you’re limp, boneless, brain dead, does he rise to his feet. He watches you with dark, hooded eyes, unashamedly licking his lips and moaning at the taste of your orgasm. If you weren’t absolutely winded, you would’ve had the good sense to blush at the display. 

He rubs your thighs soothingly, up and down, silently watching as you come back to this plane of reality. He reaches down, helping you slowly sit up, smoothing your wild hair down, and kisses your forehead, “Breakfast?” He murmurs against your temple. 

“Huh?” You mumble, blinking up at him, confused and too fucked out to follow the current track of the conversation. 

“I’m not eating a noodle cup, come on,” Bucky nudges you gently, helping you back down to the floor, “I think there’s a diner a few miles down from here. It’ll be our second date, like you said.”

With shaky legs, you wobble to your bedroom, “It’s cup of noodles.” You mutter under your breath, smiling softly. 

And when you’re on the back of Bucky’s bike, face smushed into the leather of his jacket, when you’re sitting across from him in the diner, laughing so hard chocolate milk shoots out of your nostrils…he may have once been the Winter Soldier, he may have killed at least two dozen people, but now? He’s holding your face in his hands like you’re the center of his universe. He’s paying for the bill like a gentleman. And when he drops you off back home, he pulls his dog tags off, guiding them over your head, giving them to you, claiming it’s so you have to call him back. He’s just Bucky, he’s your Bucky, plain and simple.

[vegaseatsass]

Revenged Love 9

Waking up to a new Revenged Love episode is like. Oh yeah. Maybe there is light and hope in this world.

So much happened today, I don't actually know how to begin, but here are a few scattered thoughts:

Let us start with the part that's going to keep me up at night: Chi Cheng could not truly physically hurt Guo Chengyu and holds back when they fight. But the kicker is that as far as we can tell, he doesn't blame Guo Chengyu for being there, getting in his way, or starting a stupid futile fistfight that distracted him from seeing Huanglong attack Wu Suowei until it was too late. He doesn't blame Chengyu for losing Huanglong or for Wu Suowei getting hurt. That's so wild!!! Guo Chengyu can do anything and Chi Cheng will just be like well, he's my best friend who fucks with me, it is what it is. There was no sign whatsoever that he wanted him gone or even away from him in the entire aftermath. Chengyu was allowed to accompany them to the hospital and just hang out there. CRAZYYYYY.

Meanwhile I still have no idea what Chengyu's deal is. He admits that letting Chi Cheng steal his boys was a game that meant nothing to him, and it's obvious Jiang Xiaoshuai means something to him. But what about the snake battles? Why was Chengyu even fighting Chi Cheng for Huanglong? Is HE still hung up on Wang Shuo? You won't convince me he really cares about winning snake battles for their own sake. There's one moment where Huanglong is choking the life out of Suowei where Guo Chengyu looked sincerely wrecked. He was really distressed about something, but I have no idea what. Huanglong's inevitable death? His silly little plans getting too real and a human life now being in danger? Chi Cheng caring about someone and almost losing them? Chi Cheng caring about someone and actually fighting to keep them? I WANT TO KEEP HIM IN A JAR AND SHAKE IT UNTIL I CAN GET SOME ANSWERS.

Favorite favorite FAVORITE Guo Chengyu moment though was manhandling Xiaoshuai out of the hospital when he expressed too much devotion for his best friend. D-did you just get jealous????????? SIR??????

"I want to be who Da-wei sees when he wakes up" and "I feel secure when you're here" = Chengyu has good reason to be jealous, tbf. The besties love each other so much, atp I can barely handle how giddy they make me. But it's just really funny that Chi Cheng is unbothered and unthreatened by the depth of their affection, and Guo Chengyu is out here like HEY. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WANT YOUR FRIEND WHO ALMOST DIED TO SEE YOUR FACE WHEN HE WAKES UP. I, THE MAN YOU ARE NOT DATING AND OWE NOTHING TO, FEEL JUSTIFIED AND EMPOWERED TO SHUT THIS LOVE STORY DOWN ASAFP.

The hospital scenes were so cute across the board, from the scenes with Li Gang to the meal Chi Cheng bought to taunt Suowei. I really hope we don't completely lose that playful tone when shit gets real - and Suowei and Chi Cheng NEED to turn their attention to Chi Cheng's father asap. I'm scared.

There is something about the fact that the cuddlebug snake who just wants to be kept close was Chi Cheng's and the unstoppable killer snake was Wang Shuo's. LOL like what does it meeeean? What essential truths were you tapping into with your snake sorting, Wang Shuo? Idk but the fact that the "jealous, possessive" snake who will only let Chi Cheng feed him immediately embraced Wu Suowei as second papa, but Wang Shuo's personal snake immediately tried to murder the guy Chi Cheng has been moving on with, no matter how Chi Cheng tried to snake whisper it to stop, is veryyyyyy hmmmmm. Cannot wait for Wang Shuo himself to make an appearance.

We have a name for Chi Cheng's sister! Jiali! One would think this would be the last we see of Yue Yue (god bless that she got her one last shopping spree in before the final cut), but I wonder if she's going to find out Jiali "exposed" her and get revenge-fixated on her. She will in my heart.

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH38

Rip to these promising mages. I assume they will not survive this massacre.

IS that where her lungs and kidneys are? Because like. She's huge. Her entire body is behind her. Do you really think she'd keep her vital organs in the little human bulb on the front?

I mean, he has a point. What are you going to do? Fight off more hoardes of dragons?

oh noooo, Kabru.... too bad. That's so unfortunate.... anyway.

It's curious that Laios only got knocked away. He was just as likely to have had his head squished like a grape.

Guys, this is absolutely not the time to be concerned for her privacy.

Yes, queen. Free the tiddy. Murder everyone in this dungeon. I support women's rights and women's wrongs.

.......that's. One way to do that. I guess.

.......what's that rock about.

Oh, I see. That's convenient.

This guy dungeons! Maybe he even dragons.

So we got north (tallmen? dwarves?) and then the easterners.... and now the elves of the west?

He's going to give her to the Americans?! ಠ_ಠ

To be fair, at least they HAD a plan. And they executed it. It's more than you did. I don't mean to point fingers but... at least they... ya know... did something.

Kabru's like 'no, no, hang on, I need to hear what batshit fucked up thing this dude is going to say next, this is important'

Laios is so stressed he broke character.

Then again, maybe it's healthy to let them slug it out a bit. Get it out of their system.

It's true. They wore fitbits and everything.

...hey, hold on a second.

Now hold on a minute.

Damn, this is. Kind of even worse because. I guess I could have guessed that Toshi was just pretending to be polite, like you do. Cultural differences.

But the painful thing is, Laios doesn't seem surprised. He just seems resigned. He's been told before that he's difficult to get along with. To the extent that he doesn't even consider Marcille and Chillchuck his friends? Even though they arguably both care about him? But because Toshiro didn't bother to be deadpan about him being a bit odd at times, Laios thought it meant that was fine.

And that kinda hurts. Like damn. Laios just wanted to make a true connection. And I can't really blame Toshiro either, he was just trying to keep the peace but. Damn.

Free her! Let her do her illegal magics! She deserves it! （︶^︶）

Thoughts:

Senshi just being annoyed about that one last harpy looking for scraps.... like "shoo, this ain't the time"

That gnome seems genuinely nice. I'm sorry Falin squished his pet undyne.

Kabru hugging his..... mage? Girlfriend???? Seems very...one sided. Kinda feel bad for her.

Laios and Toshiro still going at it, I see. Get it allout, boys.

Uhhhhhhhhhh ninja girls.

Aww, doggo.

Last question: Where did the cat go?

Senshi: I can fix that.

Are you all worried because he's finally making sense?!?!

Laios and he punched their singular braincells into several new ones, it seems.

F./....Falin... please give the caterpillar some privacy........

My man, maybe lead with that............

I can't believe Marcille was potentially more forward about her feelings.......

"his pupils are dilated" yes, thank you sherlock. You've finally realized what everyone else who meets Laios feels almost immediately. he's a monster freak club card carrying member. Welcome.

p.....pubby......

As long as he was also inside the dungeon with them.... yes.

The issue with Kabru isn't that he isn't trying his best. It's that Laios isn't trying at all.

On a scale of one to Kabru, how badly do you react to being offered a food you don't want to eat?

......oh no. He's so pathetic it's funny. He's growing on me.

Absolute morons, the pair of them. Immovable object meets unstoppable force. The funniest combination ever. Ghost type and normal type pokemon, forever throwing moves at each other that will never hit. Laios thinking he's made a friend. Kabru just barely stopping himself from killing Laios. Best comedy pair. Tom and Jerry in a can.

Anyway. What a great manga.

[whiteraven87]

The Flame That Never Fades - chapter 7 - Ride (7/16)

pairing: Toto Wolff x Victoria Lorenz (Original Character)

summary: She's young, fiery, naive and blindly in love. He's older, married, powerful and dangerously irresistible. To him, she was an obsession, an escape, a desire. To her, he was everything. The Flame that Never Fades is a story of forbidden love in the world of Formula 1, born from lust… and ending in something that can never be undone.

warnings: age gap (28 years), forbidden romance, obsession, desire, dark romance, smut, infidelity, emotional manipulation, dominant older man, angst, longing, possessiveness, emotional pain, toxic dynamics, no promise for happy ending.

word count: 37k

read on: AO3 - Wattpad - Tumblr

====================

my other finished fanfiction: The Unstoppable Series - Masterlist [Toto WolffxOC]

====================

chapters until now:

Prologue 1: Middle of the Night 2: Frozen 3: Shameless 4: Lilith 5: Ruthless 6: The Machine 7: Ride

============================

Chapter 7: Ride

I've been out on that open road You can be my full time daddy White and gold Singing blues has been getting old You can be my full time baby Hot or cold Don't break me down I've been travelin' too long I've been trying too hard With one pretty song I hear the birds on the summer breeze I drive fast, I am alone in midnight Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble But I, I've got a war in my mind So, I just ride, just ride I just ride, just ride Ride - Lana Del Ray

After the Race

The lock clicked softly as Victoria shut the door behind her. Finally alone. The engine still roared in her bones. Her hands were trembling—not from exhaustion, but from emotion. From that unspoken mix of regret, anger, and... love that refused to fade, though it should have died long ago.

She pulled the top of her racing suit down, letting it fall to her hips. Standing in a sports bra, she rubbed the back of her neck. She leaned against the wall, head tilted back. Closed her eyes.

And then—knocking.

She wouldn't have mistaken that rhythm for anything else. She couldn't.

"Not now, Toto. Not after all this," she thought.

She clenched her jaw. Didn't answer. But a moment later—again: two knocks, quiet but firm.

She sighed bitterly.

"Come in."

The door opened. He stood there, outwardly calm as always, but his eyes gave him away. They were restless. Filled with something she no longer wanted to analyze. He closed the door behind him. Silent.

"Who did you come as, Toto?" she asked, dryly. "The boss who wants to tear me apart for reckless driving? Or the man who's about to fuck me on that damn table and then go back to his warm home and loving wife?"

He looked at her, thrown off balance. But she didn't wait for an answer.

"Because if it's the latter, then maybe let's just do it already," she continued, her voice breaking. "Maybe it'll pass quicker that way. Once you come inside me again and kiss me on the forehead like you love me. Like it means something. Like I'm more than just your... escape."

Silence. His face was tight. His hands clenched into fists.

"You always say I can walk away," she whispered. "That you'll leave me alone. But you never leave, Toto. You always come back. Every time. Because it turns you on. Because I'm the fire you don't have at home. But I'm not yours. I never will be."

At last, he moved. Stepped toward her. Hesitant.

"I'm not just your fucking pressure valve," her voice now shaking. "I'm not someone you can use at night and then button up your jacket in the morning and go back to being the perfect husband. Jack called me yesterday, Toto. He was so happy you're taking them on vacation. You know what I told him? That he's lucky. That you're the best dad in the world... And I... like a fucking idiot, love his father. I love you."

She looked him straight in the eyes. Without anger. Just with the pain that was burning her from within.

"And you? You don't even have the courage to answer me."

Toto stepped back. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

Victoria just nodded.

"Thought so."

She turned and walked to the bathroom. Her voice was quiet, almost lifeless:

"The door's not locked. But if you stay... tell me, just once, the truth. What I really am to you."

She closed the bathroom door. Didn't lock it. She waited.

***

Toto stood in the doorway, like he had no right to be there.

Maybe he didn't.

Victoria stood by the wall, her suit unzipped, half-naked—more bare from emotion than skin. She looked at him with coldness and pain all at once. And before he could say anything—she spoke.

Her words were like arrows. She didn't raise her voice, didn't dramatize. She spoke with a quiet rage that hurt more than any scream.

"Who did you come as, Toto? The boss who wants to scold me? Or the man who's about to fuck me on that goddamn table and then go back to his warm home and loving wife?"

He felt his heart drop. He said nothing. Because everything she said was true. Every word carved into his insides like a knife.

"Maybe it'll pass quicker that way. Once you come inside me again and kiss my forehead like you love me. Like it means something. Like I'm more than just your... escape."

Escape.

Yes, that's what she was. A harbor he turned to when everything else was too tight, too stifling, too reasonable.

But... he loved her. In his own way. Not the way she deserved. Not purely, not openly. But the way you love a flame. With fascination. With fear. With addiction.

"I'm not just your fucking safety valve. I'm not someone you can take at night and then, in the morning, button up your blazer and go back to being the ideal husband."

Pain swelled in his chest. Not physical. Deeper. Like every sentence sliced into the place where he had long hidden his conscience.

"And you? You didn't even have the courage to answer me."

And she was right.

Because when she told him she loved him, he didn't respond.

He couldn't. Because what was he supposed to say?

That he loved her too? That he dreamed about her? That he thought of her while falling asleep beside the woman who for years had been his world? That he missed her laughter, the sound of her screaming his name, the touch of her hand on his neck?

That he couldn't breathe when she wasn't there?

But he also couldn't walk away from her.

When Victoria stepped into the bathroom and left the door ajar, he stood still. He didn't move.

Her words echoed inside him like a refrain.

"The door's not closed. But if you stay... tell me the truth, just once. Who am I to you? Really."

He closed his eyes.

He saw her before him. Always ready to take him in. Heated, shaken, with a heart trembling like a drum. Always open. Even when she shouldn't be. Even when she knew she'd be left alone after. She always gave herself to him — not just her body. She gave her heart too, recklessly.

And he?

He took. Always took. Never offering anything lasting in return.

And only now did he understand that it wasn't about what he felt. It was about what he couldn't give her what she needed.

He stood. Mid-step. Mid-breath. Mid-truth.

And then he heard the water. The bathroom door was ajar.

He approached. Slowly. As if each step might shatter what little remained.

He stopped at the threshold. Victoria was standing by the sink, leaning against the marble countertop. Her shoulders bare, skin taut, still humming with the echo of adrenaline from the track. Her hair was slightly tousled, damp with sweat. In the mirror — their eyes met.

He — exhausted, eyes filled with unease.

She — undone, naked, but strong. As always.

"I was scared for you today," he said softly. "When I saw you drive... mercilessly. Without limits. As if nothing else existed. As if you wanted to vanish in that speed."

Her gaze quivered. But she didn't answer.

He took a step. Then another. Stopped behind her and leaned toward her slowly.

He didn't touch her yet — only spoke, just by her ear.

"Vici... I... It's not just desire. Not anymore. Maybe it never was. Today... when I almost lost you, I realized how damn much I care."

He kissed the nape of her neck. Gently, almost reverently. As if her skin was sacred and he had never truly honored it.

Her breath quickened.

Then he brushed his lips over her shoulder. Down the bend of her elbow. His fingers encircled her hips, pulling her lightly against him.

And she — as always — surrendered.

Because even if her heart was broken, it still beat for him.

She had waited for this moment. For every touch. Every whisper. Even if it was the last.

She unzipped the suit for him all the way. He pushed the fabric aside and parted her thighs. His hands ran over her legs, her stomach, her breasts — as if trying to memorize every inch of her.

And he entered her slowly, without a word.

There was no rush. No roughness.

Only breath. Silenced moans. Fingers clenching the marble. Their bodies joined in a silence neither dared to break.

Victoria tilted her head back, and his lips found her neck again.

"Will you..." he whispered with a trembling voice, not moving, still buried deep enough to feel her heartbeat, "Will you keep driving like that... on the edge?"

She was silent for a moment. Only their breaths echoed off the tiles.

"No," she answered softly.

"Good girl," he whispered.

And kissed her shoulder.

In that moment, in the twilight between pain and the illusion of tenderness — there was only them.

For a while. As always. They stood in silence.

Toto was still inside her, breathing heavily, as if this single act could strip the weight of the world off his shoulders. His hands held her hips, fingers digging lightly into her skin, as if he didn't want to let go. As if he wanted to stay a part of her for just a little longer.

Victoria closed her eyes. She knew this moment.

That half-breath when he hadn't yet pulled away, but his thoughts were already elsewhere.

In another home. With another woman. With Susie.

"I have to go," he whispered at last, almost apologetically, as if that could change anything.

He pulled away, and the cold instantly crept under her skin. He buttoned his trousers in silence.

Victoria still leaned on the counter, naked, burning, breath shaky, with emptiness blooming beneath her ribs.

She said nothing. Not anymore. Because any word would've been a plea — and she was done begging.

She stood up only once he disappeared behind the door.

She didn't look back to see him leave. She didn't want to see his back. The same back she loved to curl up against at night — the one that always moved away faster than she allowed herself to believe.

She sat on the bed. Quietly. Carefully. As if she didn't want to disturb the loneliness that had once again settled on her shoulders.

Her head dropped into her hands.

"Idiot," she thought.

An idiot who once again believed that maybe, this time, it would be different.

Because when he was with her — when he kissed her, whispered her name, came inside her with a quiet sigh that sounded like a prayer — in that moment, he was truly hers.

For that one cursed moment. For one trembling of the body, one kiss on the neck. For a second in which the whole world disappeared, and only they remained.

But then he always went back.

To his perfect life. To the wife who was his home. To the order that never had room for Victoria.

And she?

She was left with an empty bed. With the scent of his body on the sheets. With a silence she had to somehow survive.

And once again, she had to piece herself back together.

Without illusions. Without him.

Only with a heart that hurt more every time.

-----------

Next -> chapter 8: No One Like You

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[beautifulfuckup99]

How about an insecure reader who thinks she is unworthy of love and keeps pushing JK away and wants to keep it just friends but he doesnt care and snaps one night showing her how much he wants her 🤭😉

Awe! So cute! Got you right now! Lol

Title: I can handle it

Warning(s): Talks of body weight, Insecure!Y/N, Face-S!tting, Dom!Jungkook, D!rty Talk, Spank!ng, Some Hair Pull!ng, Curs!ng, and some well-earned fluff!

Author's Note: So this will follow a curvy and/or plus sized Y/N because as a fellow 'big girl', I know we deserve some damn good smut too! Hope you enjoy! Oh! And this will be and "Idol!AU"...

*************************************

Monday:

"Jungkook, stop!" You snap, finally fed up with today as you move out of his arms. "I'm not going." You declare as you walk back into your closet to change out of the dress. Tonight was nerve-wracking. Management had given Jungkook the green light to make a public outing with you in order to confirm that he was in fact in a relationship.

This would be your first introduction to ARMY, this giant mass of unstoppable force, that could make or break you and your relationship. And you were panicking.

"Y/N, what was wrong with that one?" Jungkook asks in the same calm and soft tone as he always had with you.

But how long would that last?

How long would he put up with you before realizing he could have literally anyone else? Famous or not.

You were spiraling now.

Just fucking great!

"I looked like a fucking pumpkin!" You say with an eyeroll. "Tell the guys I'm sorry, go out with them on your own. We'll do this reveal another time." You state and Jungkook frowns, walking into your closet to actually face you.

"First off..." He says, eyebrows knitted together in slight frustration. He would never let that out in his tone though. "Orange is a great color on you. And secondly, we can't keep putting this off..." He says as you rummage through your rack of clothes to try and find something. Nothing looked good enough.

"Baby, could you please just leave? I wanna change." You say, never a fan of changing in front of him. He rolls his eyes at that.

"Y/N, we've literally had sex before, yet I can never see you naked? It makes no sense." He sighs and you turn to him.

"Out, Jungkook. Now!" You order as you fuss at him. He sighs heavily before just giving in and leaving. There was always tomorrow...

Tuesday:

"Mm... Something smells good..." Jungkook says pleasantly as he wraps his arms around you from behind. You sigh deeply and move from his arms, not liking the feeling of his hands so close to your stomach.

"It's nothing special." You say casually and Jungkook frowns a bit at that and sighs softly before letting it go. He did that a lot when dealing with you. But you were worth that. Even if you never saw it that way...

"Oh? Nothing special, my ass. It smells like Samgyeopsal!" He laughs softly and it almost melts your icy demeanor. Keyword: almost.

"Wait till it's done, to see." You mutter and he laughs more.

"No. Let me see!" He says as he tries reaching over you to uncover the pan.

"Kookie, no! Let it be a surprise!" You laugh as you move in the way so he can't uncover the pan.

"Let me see!" He laughs as he starts to play fight with you.

"No! Go away, wait till dinner!" You fuss and gasp as you feel Jungkook wrap his arms around you and you feel him begin to lift you.

"No! Jungkook, put me down!" You practically shriek in panic. He's quick to put you down and you push him away. "Don't do that! You'll hurt yourself!" You say as you back away, feeling panicked. Hiding your body with baggy clothes was one thing, but having him always trying to grab you and hold you? God, it was like he'd find out, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was dating a plus-size woman. And you didn't want that.

"Y/N, calm down. I was joking. Plus, I lift more than that at the gym-" You cut him off.

"I don't care! Don't do that again!" You say and huff before storming away, leaving your boyfriend upset and hurt in the kitchen.

Wednesday:

"What are you looking at?" You scrunch your nose as Jungkook gets comfy on the end of your bed, watching you as you read your chapter for the night.

"Just... Watching my beautiful, smart girlfriend read." He chuckles softly and you shift at that.

"Don't be weird." You mutter as you go back to reading.

You had this theory going. See, if you let yourself fall for Jungkook and all his sweet words, you'll only feel stupid when he finally comes to his senses and leaves you. So, acting cold and nonchalant? At least you could act like you don't care when he breaks up with you. And what's better is he'll never get the satisfaction of knowing he hurt you! It was the perfect plan!

"Why do you do that? Just take the compliment..." He sighs and you look up from your book at face him and breathe deeply. You knew you didn't have much time with him left. He only had this week off, hence why he wanted to come out publicly with you this week...

"No." You say finally and shut your book. He sighs and moves closer to you, gently touching your thigh and you grab his hand. "Night, Jungkook." You say simply and he sighs.

Thursday:

"Hey, baby. Good work out today?" You ask gently as Jungkook comes bouncing into your apartment.

"Yeah! It was great. You should come with me next time to-" You cut him off.

"I like working out alone." You state fast. Last thing you wanted was for your, very toned, boyfriend to watch you run on a treadmill for an entire hour.

"Well, I just thought-" You cut him off again.

"I like my privacy." You say and walk past him to go to your room.

"Y/N... Come on, I... I just think It'll be cool for you to watch me!" He tries as you shut the bedroom door. He groans and rubs his still sweaty face. He sighs and shakes his head. "Ok. I'll cook dinner tonight?" He calls with no response. "Ok. Got it..." He mutters and shakes his head.

Friday:

"Oh! Here." Jungkook says as he tries pouring more noodles into your bowl and you're fast to pull it away.

"No! I'm good." You assure fast as you shake your head.

"But you only had a little bit." He argues gently as he tries again.

"No, Jungkook. It's not like I need the extra food." You snort, trying to make light of your appearance. He frowns.

"What does that mean? Food is food." He says and you hum at that. "Y/N, I don't like when you-" You cut him off.

"Tell the truth?" You raise an eyebrow. "Jungkook, you look fucking amazing. That's a given." You state. "I don't, and that's just as obvious." You shrug.

"Y/N!" He says just as offended as he'd be if you were to make fun of him. "What's been going on with you this week? Ever since I brought up going public with you, you've been-" You cut him off again.

"A bitch?" You ask. You couldn't explain the attitude change. Maybe a part of you was hoping to tire Jungkook out enough for him to leave you? Maybe you were hoping to spend this whole week picking fights with him so you wouldn't have to go public with him? And then he'd go back to Korea and you two could go back to skype calls and long text messages instead.

"No! Y/N, stop." He says, shaking his head. "You're fucking perfect the way you are. I love you. Stop acting so... Cold." He says and you watch him closely and feel your heart clench at the fear of letting yourself believe him. You couldn't.

"I'm gonna go wash dishes." You state and get up, walking off.

Saturday:

"No. No this is all wrong." You sigh as you eye yourself in the mirror.

"I think you look sexy." Jungkook smirks as he comes around to grab you from behind as your eyes stay glued to your stomach area that you could see through the tight black dress you had on.

"No. You can see... Everything. And it's so... tight." You pout a bit as you feel the cool metal of Jungkook's lip ring trail along your neck.

"So? We're going out to a bar. You look good." He encourages as he trails his lips towards your pulse point.

You feel the anxiety building up as you think about tonight. Going public, what that means for you both. The 'what if's pile on as you stand there.

What if he gets bored of you?

What if you guys don't last?

What if you get hurt?

What if it becomes clear to everyone that he can do so much better?

You couldn't do this...

You liked your relationship over the phone. Where it was safe. Where he was where he was, and you were where you were. Where he only saw what you wanted him to see. Where you could hide from him. It's always easier to love from afar. You get to use your imagination for the rest and fantasy is always better than reality.

You were spiraling again...

Just fucking great.

"No. I'm not doing this. I can't." You say finally and pull away. "I look horrible, I'm not going out like this." You state as you try moving away from Jungkook, only to be yanked back.

"Y/N, enough." He says and you move away from him.

"No! 'Enough' yourself! I'm not going!" You huff and turn to go to the closet. "My fat ass is sitting hom-" You're finally cut off by Jungkook.

"Stop talking about yourself like that, god damnit!" He finally snaps and you pause, never hearing that tone from him before.

"I am sick of you acting like this. You're so fucking sexy, and you wanna walk around like you're not? You're driving me fucking crazy. Come here." He orders as he pulls you right against him.

"Jungkook-" He cuts you off again.

"I don't wanna hear you anymore." He orders. "Do I make myself clear?" He asks firmly as he grabs your neck to make you look up at him. You feel your face heat up and you can only nod. You feel his strong arms wrap firmly around your waist before he lifts you up. You want to stop him, you want to warn him about your weight, but you can't speak as he takes you to the bed and tosses you back on the bed.

He grips your thighs. "So fucking sexy. I love your thighs and ass." He pants and turns you on to your stomach fast. You're stunned by the strength. "And all you wanna do is talk shit about the body I love..." He growls and smacks your ass cheek, groaning. "Fuck, I love watching it jiggle." He groans and you moan at the sting.

You feel your dress bunch up at your waist and look back at him as best as you can as he smacks your ass again. "Fuck, baby..." He whispers and grabs your hand, pulling it to his crutch.

"You feel how hard you get me? Hm? And you still think you're not perfect? Please." He scoffs as you shiver at the feel of his bulge under your hand. You can't help but open your legs more in anticipation.

He moves away from you and lays back on the bed. "Come here." He orders and you open your mouth, but he grabs your face. "Did I fucking say talk? Hm?" He whispers as he shakes your head for you as you moan out a soft 'no', loving how he controlled your body.

"No. I didn't. Shut the fuck up. And get on my fucking face." He orders and your eyes widen, but you move on top of him, mindful of your weight still.

You hover over his face, and he grips your hips. "I said sit." He whispers.

"Jungkook, I don't wanna-" He cuts you off.

"Why do you think I work out every day? Hm? I can handle you, Y/N. I want you smothering me." He orders and you blush hard.

"Jungkook... I... J-Just... Tap out if it gets too much..." You whisper and he snorts at that.

"I'm a man, Y/N. Tapping out is for wusses." He states.

"You say that till you pass out." You mutter, trying to joke too. He looks you right in the eyes.

"It'll be the best way to go. Now sit." He orders and you bite your lip, but slowly lower yourself on to his face more.

"Watch yourself. In the mirror. Watch how sexy you are..." He whispers against your underwear covered pussy. You nod and slowly look up at the mirror as you feel his mouth move between your pussy lips. You gasp softly and run your fingers through his hair as he teases your clit through your underwear and leaves bite marks along your inner thighs.

Soon, your underwear is pushed to the side as he focuses on sucking and licking your clit. You try and keep your eyes open, but you're a moaning mess as you feel him work his tongue deeper between your folds.

"Ah... Ah... Oh, baby!" You moan and feel his tongue wiggle towards your entrance, slowly sliding into you. His arms wrap around your thighs, and he pulls you harder against him. You can feel his nose on your clit and his tongue moving deeper inside of you, and it's as if he's smothering himself in your pussy.

Looking in the mirror by your bed, you can see your hair a mess, your dress bunched up around your waist, and Jungkook's hand undoing his belt as he lays under you.

You groan at the sight of him using one hand to pull out his cock that's already hard. He strokes it as he focuses on eating you out.

"Oh, baby!" You practically purr, never feeling so... desired before.

He moans deeply into your pussy, and you can't help but rock your hips against his face, gripping his hair more tightly. "So good! It's so good! Baby!" You moan as your head rolls back a bit. You can't lift yourself up from his face even if you wanted to. His tatted and solid arm was still wrapped tightly around your thigh to hold you on his face like an oxygen mask. Oh, the irony...

"I'm gonna cum!" You moan out loudly, unable to stop yourself. God, you loved feeling manhandled like this.

Hearing your moans and cries, Jungkook grips your hips with both hands, moving you more so you're riding his tongue and grinding against his nose, making a mess on his face. "Oh... My god, yes..." You whine as you feel it building effortlessly. You needed this release. And all at once, it hits you.

"Jungkook!" You call out as you cum hard on his face. He doesn't stop though. You squeak at the constant rubbing on your now sensitive clit and fall back on to the bed to lessen the pressure on your bundle of nerves, but Jungkook doesn't let go of your hips, and instead moves to lay on his stomach, still eating you out.

"Oh my god! Baby! T-Too... Too much!" You pant as your back aches at the aftershock.

"Mm... so fucking sweet..." He mumbles against your clit between heavy pants, your juices covering his face like a freakin face mask. It makes you blush as he kisses up your body. "Get on your stomach. Face the mirror." He orders.

"I get it, you like my body-" He cuts you off.

"Too late for that. I want it drilled into you." He says and forces you into that position.

You blush hard and try covering your face, but he's quick to smack your ass hard. "Look. Look at how pretty you get when I slide in." He pants in your ear, and you shiver and look in the mirror.

You gasp shakily as you feel him start to slide in. "Atta girl. Stay just like that..." He praises breathlessly and reaches around to hold your neck as he fucks you slow and deep. His hand moves to your chin and pulls your head back so you can look up at him.

"You like to overthink? Hm?" He whispers and you blush but nod, admitting to being so trapped in your own mind. "It's ok, baby. I'll just fuck your brains out." He assures quietly against your forehead in an innocent and comforting tone before he kisses your forehead.

You can't help but hum excitedly and feel his thick cock slide out of you slowly. He moans lowly as your walls clench around him. "Fuck, baby. Don't wanna let me go?" He taunts and you giggle breathlessly.

"Fuck no. You feel too good..." You shiver and he smacks your ass.

"Yeah? Beg." He whispers and you moan softly as he slowly slides back into you.

"Please. Please, I-I don't wanna think more. Fuck me. Fuck me, please, bab-" You're cut off by him grabbing your hair hard and making you look at the mirror.

"Look at you. You see how fucking pretty you are? Hm? Did I get it through your thick fucking skull yet?" He whispers in your ear before slamming into you deeply, which makes you scream out in pleasure.

"Yes! Yes! Yes, baby. Yes!" You call out as he starts fucking you roughly.

"Say sorry for being so mean." He growls in your ear as he pounds you relentlessly.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, baby..." You whine, eyes rolling back as he starts hitting your spot. "Right! There! Oh my god!" You scream out as he keeps going, no desire to stop just yet, smirking at how he had turned you into a moaning mess.

"Fuck me back, baby. Let me watch that ass jiggle." He orders as he grabs your waist to pull your ass up. You shiver and start to fuck yourself on his thick cock as he smacks your now red ass cheek.

"Fuck yes. Bounce that ass on me, baby." He groans as you watch through the mirror as he watches your body in awe. He really did love you...

You feel your heart skip a beat. He did find you attractive. He did want you. And you had him wrapped around your finger with such ease. You'd spent all this time treating him wrong, to what cost? He was still here. He still wanted you. Who were you to get in his way?

"Kiss me." You shiver and he does just that, kissing you sloppily as your bodies move freely...

Sunday:

"Congratulations, you two! Beautiful couple, really." The paparazzi calls out as he snaps more photos of you as you hold Jungkook's hand tighter while being led out of the coffee shop you'd just finished having brunch at. You both smile sheepishly at the attention and say nothing, deciding that a statement wasn't needed...

You get in the back of the car first so Jungkook would have some time with his fans, to wave at them and such. You see different girls screaming to him about how much they love him and for a second you feel a tug to your heart. An ugly 'what if' trying to rear its ugly head. But instead, you just watch the man who had made love to you all night long last night and feel your breath return to normal.

You had nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to worry about. Because you had a man who could handle all of you just fine.

And you could handle him too...

[with-my-calamitous-love]

SHOTGUN SHOT THROUGH THE HEART / CAN'T DRIVE PAST THE PLACES WE USED TO GO TO

keigo x reader x touya

part 2/4, part 1 here

the day of touya’s supposed arrest was the day you almost ended it all. a familiar winged hero comes to your rescue. olivia rodrigo mentioned!

inspired by drivers license + getaway car

today was enough to kill you.

4:26 am. your eyes open with no time for dreary morning exhaustion. his arms feel especially warm that morning, making it all the more harder to pry yourself away from him. in the end, it would be two broken hearts, and 4 hands bloody.

what kills you is how peaceful he looks. how touya, a man who had fire inside his heart, felt some semblance of comfort when he laid next to you. you prayed he was dreaming, dreaming of something better than this.

you pack throw your keys and what little cash there is left into the purse he stole for you. your as quiet as possible, not necessarily to conceal your movement, but rather your cries. you don't want to do this. you want to go there, and lay with your favorite arsonist. you want to lay there and love him into the world catches up with you. but you fucking can't.

and the worst part is, he's watching you.

he could stand up. he could yell, and demand to know what's going on. he could burn you to a crisp or pull you into his arms. he could promise you forever or break your heart more as you slowly twist the doorknob open.

he hated the fact that he was suspicious about you, but its god's cruelest joke that that gut feeling is somehow always right. he doesn't what exactly is going down, but he knows you're not coming back. his hearts not pure, far from it, but it still hurts him watching you leave. you turned into the one thing he wished you never would be.

but he's quiet. because deep down, somewhere deep in his heart, he knew this would happen eventually. he can't find it in himself to blame you. he blames himself for thinking you wouldn't.

so with a gentle, silent sigh, he lets you go.

just because someone expects betrayal doesn't mean they can't cry when it happens.

you breathe again once you finally reach the car, ducking past the sirens, officers and god damn heroes that are waiting outside the hotel. many of them, the figures you see on t.v and on magazines attempt to acknowledge you, to thank you for your efforts, but your oxygen is running out. you slam the door shut behind you and speed off into the early dusk of the morning.

red lights and stop signs become nothing but a blur as shaky sobs take over your lungs. your grip on the steering wheel loosens as you see his face in the rearview. your feet on the dashboard, laughing at crude jokes overtaking the sounds of traffic. you pray that he'll forgive you, though its useless.

by now, they've broken into the room.

by now, they've got him on his knees.

by know, he realizes just why you left so soon.

you drive alone, despite the various honks and sirens that become more and more evident at your recklessness. suddenly, you see him everywhere- sidewalks, car reflections, alleyways and deeply embedded in the crevices of your heart.

you said forever, and now you drove the getaway car.

when keigo calls you, you answer with a shaky huff as his voice comes through the receiver. he updates you on everything, much to your dismay.

"what do you mean you guys didn't arrest him!? what the fuck happened there?!" you scream.

your ex-fiance's voice is filled with guilt as he explains everything. "it... was a disaster. we underestimated him. he was unstoppable, angrier than i've ever seen him. and when i told him you were the one who gave up his location..."

your heart may as well have stopped when he said that.

"you... told him...?"

the blonde winces at the tone in your voice, realizing his slip up. for a hero that was so used to lying, being calculated and playing a role that wasn't for him, he struggled to hide the most of painful of truths to you.

"shit, i'm... fuck, i'm sorry, babe. it just slipped out." the coward in every man, and evidently in keigo, tries to cover up what he revealed about you. it obviously doesn't work.

a shaky, sob-filled scream escapes your throat as you dangerously speed through the traffic and onto the bridge connecting your now abandoned hiding spot to the city. other drivers are understandably honking at you, flipping you off and asking who the hell granted you your license. you're too distraught to care, seeing as the guilt of turning touya in overtakes you.

you did the right thing, and it tore your heart apart at the seems.

keigo is still on the phone with you, keeping note of the sirens and cars he hears from your end. he quickly tries to diffuse the situation before anything else happens. "[y/n], love, i'm gonna need you to pull over." he cautions. "i'll come to you."

"i'm fine." you lie, not wanting him to see you like this. you stare at the watery depths below, reasoning with yourself not to do anything rash. just make it back to your apartment, wrap yourself up in your bedsheets and lay there until this is all over.

keigo sees right through this, as if sensing your inner turmoil (if it wasn't already blatantly obvious.) he begs you just to pull over, to stop driving in the state your in, and just let him come to you. let him make sure you come out of this alive. its what he wants, and its probably what touya wants, too.

you grit your teeth at his pleas, too heartbroken to think rationally right now. you're a reckless, ticking time bomb, and you all know it. "god, i know you care about me, kei. i know you still have feelings for me."

he's silent on the other end of the phone. his heart clenches, wincing at your harshness. he was never trying to hide how he never fully got over you, even after you professed your love for the man you ran away with. somehow, you still had that hold on his heartstrings.

"yeah, well, so what if do? what difference does it make i still don't want you to kill yourself."

his hand shakes as he holds the phone in his hand, his worry growing more and more apparent with each passing second.

"you made me betray the person i loved so much, maybe as much as i loved you."

theres a heavy silence that hangs over the call screen. its wrong to blame keigo for what happened. either way, touya was still a dangerous villain who had to be stopped. all keigo did was open your eyes to the truth. probably because he's a hero, and thats what heroes do, but also because he loves you, and doesn't want to see your heartbreak over a criminal.

but its that last part that makes keigo's heart sink to his stomach. the idea that the amount of love you had for him was equivalent to the love you had for touya.

even after the end of your breakup, he still wished the best for you. he wished for you to be happy, just not happier than how you were with him. as selfish as that is.

his heart aches, the pain of what you're going through beginning to creep up on him too. he o desperately wants to tell you that everything will be okay, that he'll be your hero and take all your hurt away, but in that regard? he's powerless.

"keigo, i-"

he listens, hoping you'll finish your sentence. but you don't, even after he yells after you. "what? [y/n], what? hey!?"

his heart stops in his chest as a loud crash resonates over your end, followed by honking, screaming, and worst of all, the sound of something splashing into the watery depths below. what scares him the most is what he doesn't know. are you okay? can he still save you in time?

when the line goes dead, he quicky takes off, setting out to find you before its too late.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

theres an overwhelming cold feeling that takes you. you're oddly relaxed, despite the dull ache that erupts in your head. you aren't sure whats happening fully, your memories a messy haze. right now, nothing else matters as your body floats through the cold state of purgatory.

theres suddenly a sharp pain on your chest, followed by a desperate plea you can’t quite discern. theres a familiar taste on your lips, one that speaks love to you. that resounding pressure on your chest makes your heart thump, causing memories to suddenly replay in your mind like a film screen. memories with someone you loved.

you and keigo had met through some friend you can’t really remember. two deep in chardonnay, and you were the only one that guessed his antics during charades. the pounding of your heart continues as you recall the memory. you went from one kiss to getting married in just the span of a few months.

first loves are special like that.

he found pieces of you in every song he listened to, became utterly addicted to smell of your perfume and your bare shoulder in the morning. he loved your laughter, the way your hands fit in his. he loved that you saw him, even in the moments he could barely recognize himself.

the thing about first love, however, is that its also your first loss.

fears of trapping you in a marriage, the same one he had seen growing up, became all the more evident for the hero. he didn’t want to hold you down, to chain you to him when the two of you were meant to fly freely, happily. he felt like you deserved to love someone else.

and eventually, you did. though he never expected the firstborn son turned villain you ran off with.

but as keigo performs cpr on you, begging you to come back to life, he pleads with the sky. with anyone who might hear him, or whoever was trying to take you away from this world.

if it meant you’d start breathing again, he’d fly up to the clouds and catch lightning in a bottle. if it meant you’d open your eyes, he’d fix every last mistake he ever made. if it meant you’d love him again… well, he’d deal with the truth of that if it meant you’d simply live again.

he almost gives up, looking down at his own, wet gloved hands as he comes to terms with the fact that his attempts may be futile. you were injured in the crash, losing blood from cuts and bruises. on top of that, you had drowned, the cruel, murky depths of the sea taking you away.

he’s already covered in water, but a singular tear drop runs down his eye.

your hearts beating, fuelled purely by the love you’ve gotten to experience. you see two people- the man who brought you back to life, and the one that felt like the best way to die.

before you can discern who is who, your heart catches up with your lungs, taking a desperate gasp of air. you immediately turn to your side, ignoring the cuts on your body in order to turn over and cough out the water. its salty and stings your throat, your vision hazy and your body shivering.

“breathe.” a voice commands you, rubbing circles on your back. keigo sighs in relief, pulling you into his lap. you cling like the life buoy you would have needed just a couple of minutes ago.

you don’t even realizing you’re still crying, not until the blonde strokes your cheeks free from the tears. he tilts your head up so he can look at you.

“you were dead a minute ago.” he says, his usual nonchalant behaviour replaced by a rare glimmer of worry. you were the only person that pulled those feelings out of him, anyway.

your throat sings of salt, body aching from the cold and the blood loss. “yeah, well… you’re not gonna get rid of me that easily.” you choke out.

he almost laughs, opting to pull you into a tight hug. with as much strength, though theres not much, you embrace him back. yes, you’re still mad. yes, you’re still heartbroken. but he somehow made your tortured heart beat once more.

he wraps his coat around you, handing you off to the paramedics. he promises to meet you in the hospital after he’s done helping other survivors, sending you off with a tender kiss to your forehead. keigo looks back, seeing the accident that left you dead for a moment.

touya, from afar, is watching too.

the look on his face is something you can’t quite decipher. he’s mad as hell you sold him out, especially at the behest of hawks- but something dragged him to the scene of the accident. something in him had to know you’d be okay.

he watches as the ambulance takes you away, before turning away and leaving the scene.

tags 🐚

@whenanafallsinlove @satirediary @bbluefllame @crushmeeren (aka all the people that would probably choose touya’s life over a thousand peoples 😭 cuz me too)

[ask-marygoore-bos]

Soooo.... tell me about your history with a certain satanic pope in the ministry, perhaps the third would be a good place to start?

Jesus Christ, you guys never shut up!

Okay. Okay, alright, fine. I will divulge some fucking details, since clearly you are all STARVED for information. Fuckin' freaks.

Here, I'll even make it a little fun for you. Let me get some paper.

Before you all get on my asses, I CAN draw. I can draw very well. But you guys don't deserve that from me. So I'm making a poor man's visual explanation of how Terzo and I met.

It was when I was still playing in Repugnant, maybe three years ago now at this point. I noticed him in the crowd because... well, fucking look at him. He looked insane. Also hot, but I digress.

Point is, we had a pretty intense staring match. He smirked. I fumbled my lyrics. Hated myself a bit.

He came up to me after the show and immediately started flirting with me. I tried to fight him off (as shown above...), but he won me over.

I would like to emphasize that I was slightly drunk and his eye was distracting me. I sincerely think he can hypnotize people.

We went to the bathroom.

...we then came out of the bathroom.

After intimately finding out what his tongue felt like, I figured I should probably ask him his name. Sometimes I'm polite.

I learned his name was Terzo, and his accent finally made sense. Though I did wonder why he was in Sweden when that is intrinsically the opposite of his usual climate, I did not bother to ask.

He got this look in his eye and propositioned me. Brought up his church. Said I looked like I would fit in there. Obviously, I was really fucking confused because this man just made out with me but he's the leader of a church?

Apparently my face betrayed my confusion and disgust, as he quickly laughed and explained that it was a Satanic church. That was cool.

And that's how I quit my day job to become a missionary man, so to speak.

Also...

...how Terzo and I got "close", for lack of a better word.

Man, we were unstoppable. I hadn't had that much sex in... Christ, ever. I really liked him. He really liked me.

I thought so, at least.

Oh, fuck. Hold on.

-Mary

FOR BUSINESS INQUIRIES, CONTACT THE MINISTRY OF SATAN AT XXX-XXX-XXXX. ASK FOR SISTER IMPERATOR.

TO LEARN MORE ABOUT THIS BLOG, HERE IS OUR ABOUT.

[metalbvcky]

METALVCKY 2024 STUCKY MASTERLIST

Another year, more cake!!! I'm unstoppable 🥳 Last year, I finished Aster and began brainstorming/outlining No Cure For Love, but I also managed to slip a few oneshots in between as usual.

This year, 2025, I'll be focusing on No Cure for Love, a secret MTH fic, and very possibly the overdue Bloom!Verse wedding fic (the muse is currently making lots of noise for that one...). I also want to continue/finish Daddy's Himbo whenever that muse returns. So all in all, plenty of multi-chapters to go around!

Shelves of Aster - E - 126,517 (26/26) - Modern AU (Bloom!Verse), Bookstore AU, Sugar Daddy, Age Difference, Meet-Cute, Falling In Love, Top/Dom Steve, Bottom/Sub Bucky

A career in design has given Steve wealth and friends, but no partner. StarkTech rules the appliance industry, and the latest device has kept Steve from the dating world. Steve wishes he had time to jump back into the scene, find a new sub or a sugar baby, maybe someone to spoil.

Running into a store minutes before closing would soon show Steve what he’s been missing.

Bucky's life has had its ups and downs. His asshole ex threw him away shortly after moving to Brooklyn, which left him without a place to live. The owner of a local bookstore, the same woman he befriended while studying for finals, had been kind enough to ‘adopt’ him on that dreadful night.

Between freelance writing and a part-time job, Bucky doesn’t know when he’ll get laid. He wants a boyfriend. Romantic dinners, movie night cuddle sessions, and sexual experiences he’s only dreamed about.

What's the chance they're both kinky?

A Daddy's Himbo - E - 8,761 (2/? TBC) - Modern AU, Exes to Lovers, BDSM, Dom/sub, Getting Back Together, Sub Steve, Dom Bucky

It’s been well over a decade since Bucky moved to the west coast in search of different opportunities. He left his old life in New York behind, and even though starting from scratch sucks balls, he made it work. The leather and kink community opened their arms to him and he was reborn.

Then years later, he's offered to help out an established kink festival. The problem? It's on the other coast. But he's a professional dom, and he's not one to betray the community that got him here today.

What he hadn't expected, however, was running into an ex on the day of preparations.

His old sub.

A Bed Cluttered with Rosebuds - E - 4,785 (1/1) - Modern AU (Bloom!Verse), Established Relationship, Domestic, Dom/sub, Top/Dom Steve, Bottom/Sub Bucky

Steve slams the driver seat door closed with an overdue sigh. Work was mentally draining today. Hours of countless, boring meetings. Far too many, far too long away from the sweet boy he comes home to. His sweetheart, his baby, his Bucky.

Like a good boyfriend, Steve brings pizza and wine for the two of them to share. While lounging in bed. Because lazy evenings are best spent with a loving partner.

The night doesn't end there.

“Tell me, Kitten,” Steve says, resuming to stroke Bucky’s hip, down his thighs. “How would you feel about strong, teasing patterns? If Sir fucked your pretty face at the same time?”

“Please,” Bucky outright begs. The needy sound has Steve’s briefs tightening, arousal increasing from the eroticness. “Please, Sir. Want everything. Your cock. The toy. Need it so bad.”

Steve chuckles darkly. He has the best sub in the world.

Tonight We Ride - E - 2,058 (1/1) - Canon, Established Relationship, Smut, Couch Sex, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Top Steve, Bottom Bucky

Bucky might be a drama queen when it comes to sex with Steve.

It's no secret, okay? When your best friend of several decades goes from a super skinny twink to a Greek god of sex appeal, well, don't blame Bucky for drooling and ogling.                                                            “These,” Steve grunts, palms tugging at the lightweight fabric encasing Bucky’s thick upper thighs, “need to come off. Now.”

The shorts (short shorts) are removed in a desperate haste. Bucky barely has time to get them off his ankles and onto the floor before Steve pulls him closer, all the way down until Bucky’s freed cock brushes against soft fleece. His mind is still stuck in the gutter when two flat pads circle the surrounding area of his rim, dry skin against skin. There’s a groan, and then the pornographic sight of Steve sliding his fingers over his tongue, twice.

“Oh god, Steve.”

I Think We're a Pizzeria Now (There Doesn't Seem to be Any Marinara Around) - M - 7,526 (1/1) - Shrunkyclunks, Mob AU, Post 2012 Avengers, Opposites Attract, Drunk Steve, Mob Boss Bucky

All right look. Steve only wanted a pizza. The building seemed decent enough, and Steve's drunken state of mind assumed the pizzeria sign meant local freshly made pies. He stumbled inside and took a seat in a booth, too drunk to notice the absent aroma of baked bread, tomatoes, and mozzarella.

The staff in the back seemed to be taking an awfully long time, but Steve could wait. He looked over the decor to pass the time, while pot and pans and an occasional scream blended in the background. At some point he dozed off. Then his hunger became more apparent, and a redhead woman shoved a couple of small cakes into his hand and told him to eat.

Later, Steve would learn the establishment was not a restaurant. But the headquarters of a mafia group.

And the mafia boss was not happy to see Captain America in his domain.

Or was he?

The Lost Footage - E - 2,035 (1/1) - Pornstar AU, Established Relationship, Daddy Kink, Light Dom/sub, PWP, Top Steve, Bottom Bucky

“I watched a video of you,” Bucky blurts, unable to stop his tongue.

Steve leans back, face twisted in confusion. “What?”

“The— The bondage video. I didn’t know it existed until Clint texted me and I couldn’t not look because the link was there and—”

“Baby boy,” Steve coos, voice deepening. “Did you get off to Daddy being fucked?”

The evidence in his shorts turns Bucky on harder.

“You were so hot, Daddy,” Bucky says, cheeks dusted with arousal.

Winter's Indulgent Sugary Sweets - T - 10,403 (1/1) - Shrunkyclunks, Bakery AU, Baking, Baker Bucky, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Christmas Fluff, Meet-Cute

Two weeks before Christmas, Bucky, somehow or someway, becomes the sole baker for the Avengers.

Bucky gladly accepts the order, of course, but he never thought it would lead to hours upon hours of time-consuming work. Cookies are now the bane of Bucky's existence.

There is one nice thing... Captain America. In his bakery. Broad shoulders and all.

God, Bucky could lick the sugar off of his lips.

-----

TUMBLR FICLETS

A Snowy Getaway (Steve/Bucky/Natasha) - T - 481 (1/1) - Ficlet, Moodboard, Cabin Fic, Snowed In, Crack, Fluff, Team Bonding, Fourth Wheel Clint

There's No Cure For Love (snippet) - T - 256 (1/1) - Ficlet/Summary, Moodboard, Medical AU, Doctor Steve, Patient Bucky

The Wedding of Rogers-Barnes - T - 83 (1/1) - Modern AU (Bloom!Verse), Ficlet/Summary, Moodboard, Fluff, Weddings, Romance

[green-eyedfirework]

It was a stupid idea to take a job like this. He'd waited and waited for his eye to heal and finally got fed up with waiting. He'd taken the first offer that had come his way.

And here he was, trapped on all fours, unable to speak, and with far more problems than a mere lack of depth perception.

He tried to shout and it came out a roar.

Fuck this. Fuck Gotham. He'd only come here because he needed something to get out of his own head, to stop seeing Joey's wide, terrified eyes every time he slept. He needed to run, to flee far and fast enough that he could outrun his greatest mistake.

He shouldn't have waited. He shouldn't have convinced himself that he was invincible, he was unstoppable, he was the best killer on the planet. He shouldn't have hesitated when he saw the man holding his son prisoner.

And here he was, trapped after all.

Slade grunted and forced himself forward, awkwardly crawling on his new limbs. No one had mentioned that there was fucking magic involved and now he was seeing shit in colors that didn't exist and trying to get used to moving four legs instead of two. The eye was still gone, though.

He couldn't even get the magician to undo it, because the man was dead.

When will you get it through your thick fucking skull that murder cannot solve everything, Adeline had screamed at him. Of course, she'd then done her level best to murder him, so Slade felt justified in ignoring her opinion.

Slade continued to drag himself to the warehouse door--and then paused. Where was he planning to go? His gear had been blown up by magic and his safehouse was blocks away. He couldn't unlock his security without opposable thumbs, or pick up a phone to call Wintergreen, or communicate with anyone. There wasn't a convenient sign hanging over his head that said 'actually a human!'.

He had, he realized chillingly, no idea if it could even be undone.

The sound of footsteps broke his horrified reverie and Slade immediately searched for a place to hide. He was a large animal, a predator judging by the sharp teeth and claws, and he did not want to meet whatever passed for Animal Control in this fucked-up city.

Unfortunately, he ended up cornered by animals of a different kind.

"Holy zoo jailbreak, Batman, is that a tiger?" a brightly colored kid exclaimed, peering from between a dark, forbidding shadow. Slade cast a glance at himself--he could only see white fur but he supposed it was possible. "How did it get here?"

Slade made a threatening growl as the vigilantes sidled forward and they froze. Well, Batman froze and Robin ducked around him.

"Robin!" Batman said sharply, but the kid ignored his orders. Of course he did, he was a kid, and Slade felt his ire grow--he had never meant to put Joey in danger and now his son was mute. What the fuck was Batman thinking, dressing his son as a brightly colored target and taking him out crimefighting.

"He's hurt, B," Robin said, still creeping forward. Slade snarled as loudly as he got, sending Batman rocking forward, but Robin ignored it. "See, he's bleeding!"

There was something wet and irritating in the crook of Slade's neck, and he kept having to fight the insane urge to lick it, but he held his ground, roaring furiously as Robin got closer.

"Robin!" Batman called out, now sounding distinctly worried, but the kid was barely a yard away from Slade now.

"It's okay," Robin murmured to Slade, holding out his empty hands. "I'm just trying to help you."

Jesus fucking Christ. Did this kid have no self-preservation or what? He was close enough to touch now, and while Slade wanted to lash out and test the sharpness of his claws, he also wasn't a monster. No matter what Adeline said.

He wasn't going to maul some kid barely older than Joey. Not when he kept seeing skin split open by a sharp knife, blood welling up almost as fast as the panic.

"It's okay," Robin soothed, gently placing a hand on Slade's head. Slade's ears flicked irritably. "I'm going to check if you're okay." Slade was not happy, but he let Robin examine the wound area on his blind side, keeping his eye fixed on Batman.

He growled low and deep when he caught the man creeping forward.

"Robin," Batman said tightly, "leave it. They can check on it when they take it to the zoo."

Slade snarled, loud and furious. He wasn't going to go meekly into some cage.

"But what about the evidence of magic?" Robin pointed out sensibly. He was a smart kid. "I don't think Gotham Zoo's equipped to take care of a magical tiger."

Very smart kid. Slade managed to figure out how to fold his legs and leaned heavily on the kid, half-pinning him in place as he glared down Batman.

Batman sighed, loud and put-upon. "Robin," he said, somewhere between firm and exasperated. "That's a tiger, not a pet. We're not putting it in the Batcave."

"He needs help," Robin said, voice wavering. "You said our job was to help whoever needed it."

Slade got to watch Batman, Dark Knight of Gotham, dreaded terror of criminals and vagabonds, fold like a bad hand.

"You're telling Alfred," Batman growled as Robin cheered in victory.

Slade decided to go along with the nudging. Batman and Robin were the only ones who knew about the magic, which meant they were his best chance at getting a solution.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the ear scritches. Nothing at all.

[batsplat]

i really want to hear your opinion on this. I feel like some people underestimate pecco a lot. most of the people I’ve seen on here are talking like it’s certain that marc will do better than pecco next year, but I’ll be surprised if it’ll be actually like this. pecco has way more experience on the ducati and nobody understands the ducati like pecco does. see race weekends like assen or mugello, he’s literally unstoppable and I feel like he’s even holding back. plus pecco is 26yo and he’s in his prime and probably will be for at least two more years before the decline inevitably begins, and he’s injury free! but the real advantage he has over marc, in my opinion, is that he literally lives under pressure and he already knows that marc will try to hit him on the track and above all mentally. he knows what he is getting into. when he talks about wanting to maintain harmony in ducati it’s because he’s already aware that marc will ruin it. like yeah ppl r saying a lot that marc is going to destroy pecco and all that, but right now the facts state that pecco is a 2 times wdc back to back (probably 3 by the end of this year) and right now on the ducati he’s the best rider of the grid. marc won his last wdc in 2019, it’s been years since he won, and he got his arm fucked up in the process. so yeah marc will try everything to destroy pecco but he needs to be careful to not destroy himself in the process. (this is not marc hate, I’m just tired of seeing people understanding pecco)

first of all, I'm broadly with you on a lot of this, anon, though I wouldn't quite as far as to say I'm predicting pecco to beat marc. second of all, I do think I have a bit of a problem where I have my rational sports brain - but I also have the other less rational bits of my brain. and some of those irrational bits are currently stuck in this mode where I have two different fundamentally contradictory mindsets that are kinda... mental blocks in terms of me predicting what will actually happen next year

mental block #1 is 'you've been following sports all your life and you know how this goes'. like, I've kinda been conditioned to think if you aren't a wunderkind, one of the talents of the century, already a megastar when you were in your nappies bla bla, you're basically fucked? certainly fucked when you are going up against one of those prodigies. you may get close and trick everyone into thinking it's actually possible, but... idk. this is a mindset that broadly stood me in good stead when I started watching motogp, like you just don't bet against fuck you talent. something like 2017, I never really thought marc was going to lose that title. so when I look at marc and pecco, however much I rate pecco there's a bit of my brain that automatically goes 'yeah but marc will win anyway'. it's that kind of... sometimes things that look slim differences in sports, margins that should be small aren't actually small at all, and in a way the end outcome feels like it was always kinda inevitable. I get that same sense when I'm watching 2005 last lap duels between sete and valentino - these are situations where you both parties should have a decent shot, but somehow you know that if you ran the simulation one hundred times, it'd basically always go one way. it's the illusion of competitiveness. one guy's always got something a little bit extra in the back pocket

mental block #2 is that it's actually been really fucking long since I've seen marc win and there's been a lot of false dawns on this front. I thought he'd win the title in 2020. I kinda thought he'd win the title in 2021. I was at least open to the possibility he'd win it in 2022. okay, in 2023... but you could still go 'yeah but he's finally physically fit now' (or, well, you could until the first race weekend was done). and honestly? gut feeling, I was feeling pretty bullish about 2024, partly because I didn't think the gap between the bike specs would be this noticeable. so by now it's a bit? you know, I kinda need to see him win again to believe it? which he probably does too, just a touch, and that makes it a completely different proposition from all those other titles... within this sport in particular, it's really not that easy to recover from years in the wilderness. you never really know if he can get close to handling the field like he did in his prime until he does it again. and... however impressive I've found him this season, which I really, absolutely have, I still haven't seen that from him. I also feel like currently... the magic is still there but his pace is so fragile, and that used to be the really scary thing about him - the relentlessness of his pace. this year, it's one lap pace, it's weekend to weekend, it's how sometimes he's slower in races than you thought he'd be - and yes, there are all these other explanations, but... well, again, if the bike is holding him back, if it's the ducati adaptation period, then that's all well and good. but I'm not really going to feel that's true until I actually see the next step

now obviously both of those things can't be true - and the fun thing about next year is that I don't actually feel it's a done deal. because, yes, people do underestimate pecco. and also because, yes, there's still some real question marks about the version of marc we're getting. just look at this sachsenring situation... obviously 'someone could get injured' is quite a depressing way to look at future title fight permutations, but you can't really treat it as a certainty that it won't happen, no? I feel like one element of last year that doesn't quite get the attention it deserves is that pecco was winning that title a whole lot more comfortably before a bike ran over his leg. the race right after that was misano, where pecco had won the two previous years and there's zero reason to believe he couldn't have done so again rather than take two laboured p3's. that's not a title fight anyone's primarily remembering as an injury arc (cf too the le mans crash) - but it clearly did play a big role and could easily have been decisive, without actually taking out one of those two contenders of competition. marc used to win his titles with a whole lot of throwing himself down the road to find the limit of his bike, but he can't afford to do that any more (if he ever could). we still need to see what version of marc we're getting, if we're getting a version who can just be fast anywhere come sunday - or a very good version of marc who isn't quite that. who knows exactly how much worse the gp23 is than the gp24! who knows how much more there still is to come in terms of ducati potential from marc! we have rough indications, but it's far from definitive. maybe one of them doesn't click at all with next year's bike! we'll only know when we see it play out!

and yet I still expect deep down that marc wins that. it's just kinda supreme belief in his fuck you levels of talent, the belief that he'll figure it out somehow because I've seen him do it so many times. and of course, the other big problem is we don't know what version of pecco we're getting! I have talked before about how historically unusual pecco is as a champion in many ways, which for me always makes it quite tricky to figure out what he'll do in basically any situation. like, where is his ceiling? is he still going to get better? is he going to get his act together? my problem is that I feel like I enter every single season going 'yeah I reckon this year pecco will get his act together, ugh he's going to dominate the field' and then it's just a bit? is this just who you are as a rider, or is this something you can still change?

the thing is, with my fullest respect to pecco's titles, however much I enjoyed those train wrecks, obviously you cannot do this against a version of marc marquez that is remotely up to scratch. like, you just cannot. pecco cannot do a 2022 and expect to win the title. against an even slightly serious version of marc marquez. on the same bike. pecco can't really do a 2023 either. I'll give him a pass for some of those late season results, but if you're chucking it down the road that often early on then, yeah, no

that being said... low key if you ignore all the little numbers, this year is actually a serious title fight...?

like I am always aware that acknowledging this could make them both dnf five times in a row but...? there's one sunday race one of them haven't won, and cota is its own thing. everything else...? whisper it softly but this is a good title fight? 2022-23 were sort of accidentally good because everyone's errors and runs of good forms and performance trajectories just kinda coalesced so you got late season drama, but this? consistent high level of performance from both blokes, decent wheel-to-wheel action between both title rivals at several different races (definitely more than in 2015 and everyone remembers that as a classic, also on course to be more than in 2013 and most years 2007-12). idk, at what point do we just have to acknowledge these guys are pretty good at what they do? sure they're on the strongest bike, as are the vast majorities of blokes who win titles historically. but bastianini's reasonably highly rated and he's not even gotten particularly close to winning a sunday race this year on the exact same bike - one p2 on merit snagged on the last lap and another one less on merit when vinales was highsided to the moon for mechanical reasons right ahead of him. yes, the title contenders have had some howlers... pecco's portimao and catalunya sprints were... well, y'know, and martin's jerez race and mugello sprint were also... y'know. but apart from that?

idk man... we can cry over photos of casey on his gp7 all we like, but at the end of the day these twits have come out with some class performances these last two years. and at a certain point you've just gotta hand it to them. they've become more experienced at how to manage a title fight, which is how you get a version of martin this year who is still fast but is less likely to phillip island it. some of those performances late last season were great! for every martin qatar and pecco india, you also get a martin thailand and a pecco indonesia. maybe they'll stop chucking it down the road so often, or maybe they'll keep chucking it but so will marc, because these days they have ridiculously many opportunities to do so! I also think it's worth pointing out that minus some questionable early season form from pecco, those two are basically always on the pace! they're always there or thereabouts! that's how marc used to kill his title rivals, not necessarily by winning a bunch of races but by making sure he was always picking up points - because he didn't have any truly slow weekends. these guys don't either at the minute! we are seeing them actually get better in front of our eyes, it's great

the other stuff... oof, I don't know what pecco's prime will end up being - remember, actually he's low key already edging out of title-winning age. he's now 27. this century, only two riders have won titles when they were older than 26 - valentino twice and jorge once. obviously, that's partly happenstance, and you don't suddenly get struck down by 'being washed' lightning when you turn 27... plus on the flip side, I also think the fact that pecco has only reached his prime relatively recently means he could have quite a few more years to go. who knows! who knows if marc being increasingly more breakable becomes a big factor! recovering from injuries gets tougher the older you get and the more knocks you've taken! on the other point, the ducati is a bike pecco knows very very well and has a lot of time riding... but broadly speaking I do trust marc with a year's worth of experience get as much out of that bike as he ever will. just the fuck you talent again. we don't know what that performance level looks like, but I don't think it'll be a question of familiarity any more at that stage

so where does that all leave us? do I really want to be making motogp predictions this far in advance? yeah, sure. if I had to put money on it, I'd still back marc, I think? but I really do hope we get a proper fight, and I really do think we might! I'm far from convinced in writing off pecco. basically *grabs the crystal ball, aka checks the races we've literally just watched* let's say pecco absolutely dogwalks the field at a few circuits. like maybe a mugello, an assen, a cute qatar, even a catalunya now he's faced down his demons (though maybe jorge on that aprilia goes bye bye at montmelo). then give marc his races where he laps the field twice in cota and sachsenring. and we're going to get a few classic duels, for the fans. if those duels happen at the mugello's and catalunya's of this world, pecco's might be in deep shit. if they happen at the misano's and aragon's and maybe even jerez's, we can get something going. they both have at least one silly early season crash (also kinda tradition for marc outside of his peak peak seasons lbr) and everyone gets to call pecco a bottler and crank out the good ol' crashquez. and then hopefully we can massage those numbers enough that pecco isn't crashing three times to marc's one and we actually get a proper title fight. and hopefully they don't get injured too badly. I've said this before, but I could easily see a title fight where pecco wins most of the big duels but his inconsistencies let him down. if his bad days are p3's, however, or if marc himself is a bit flaky at times, then we're suddenly having a very different conversation (also don't feel that comfortable in writing off aprilia/ktm and their respective star riders, especially in year two of the factory ducati partnership)

one thing about pecco (that you do also bring up anon)... if there's one trait in his competitive makeup that most reminds me of marc, it's his resilience. he's very good at bouncing back, he's very good at dealing with adversity, a lot of the times he's at his best when he's under ridiculous amounts of pressure... if anything, he's worse when he has reason to feel confident. it comes through both in what a class defensive rider he is and how good he is at dealing with title fight pressure. if there is ever a time where he mentally gets his act together at the very start of the season, surely it's going to be when he has the famous marc marquez in his garage. if that doesn't do it, literally nothing ever will. and listen, knowing marc will try to mess with you isn't quite the same as being able to stop him from messing with you. wanting to maintain harmony doesn't mean your chances of maintaining harmony are necessarily great. but... you know, pecco got his first ever win by defending against marc lap after lap, facing essentially the most stressful situation imaginable with the 93 on his tail. marc made him a better rider that day. marc might make him a better rider next year too... you never know

[ask-the-devils-bastard]

Tumblr glitched on me so I apologize if you’re getting this ask twice.

Alastor is objectively a bad person and acknowledges that’s he’s a bad person, I’m not trying to debate that point, but context is important. He goes after people who abuse their power or position to hurt “those of fairer means”, which I’m going to guess is part of why you were getting only hate from him—there quite literally is no one more powerful in all of Hell, and what he knew of you was A) absentee King, B) signed off on the Exterminations, C) absentee parent, D) that you leapt immediately to death threats in response to him being rude, and (just to reiterate) E) SIGNED OFF ON THE EXTERMINATIONS. 

You can not like sinners all you want but that doesn’t change that at the end of the day, you’re the King and they are your responsibility, people who you threw to the wolves. It was a terrible situation that led to the exterminations but the sinners are more than justified to resent you for it. 

You should frankly be more surprised that Alastor was the only one who greeted you with hostility, not just for the exterminations (though DEFINITELY those) but also because Charlie is amazing and had made it clear that you guys had a…strained relationship. 

And here’s something else to chew on; what if you had only found out about your relationship to Alastor after he had died in an extermination? 

Lucifer: ...

[Lucifer's already troubled expression doesn't change much as you speak.. until you make your final point, at which he begins to dig his nails into his arms while shaking in his seat. Asmodeus reaches across the table and places a hand on Lucifer's shoulder.]

Lucifer: You don't have to keep telling me the same things over and over, okay? You think I don't already know I'm a failure of a parent and a failure of a king?

Asmodeus: Luci, babe, you ain't a failure! Nothing down here would exist if it weren't for you. The animals, the plants, the people, my Fizzy-Frog. Heaven may hate us, but I for one fucking love bein' here and bein' me!

Lucifer: The exterminations-

Asmodeus: Were going to happen with or without your permission. I know pride is your thing, Luce, but we both know even you aren't stronger than all of Heaven. And for what it's worth, I think it matters that you protected the rest of us down here from those feathered freaks. Er, no offense.

[Lucifer snorts, but his brief smile melts away in an instant.]

Asmodeus: Besides, it's not like you even had angelic steel to fight back with thousands of years ago. Even if you'd known they could be killed, your people wouldn't have been able to and the first time an exorcist died the rest of them would have slaughtered every last demon down here. Now you got the knowledge and the weapons.

Asmodeus: And as far as the parent thing goes... Okay, maybe you dropped the ball for a bit, but you did raise Charlie to be the unstoppable force of undiluted sunshine she is today. The whole reason she's even out there tryin' to make things better for Sinners is because you inspired her.

Asmodeus: I'm not gonna lie; it might be too late to have any kind of bond with your younger kid. But don't write him off just yet. Maybe he just hates you and doesn't want anything to do with you, or maybe he's willing to give you a chance if you just take that first step. Just brace yourself for things not to go well, and, if you want, leave the door open for him.

((Blue: You're safe! I only got this once.))

[apolloendymion]

listen to me. i am talking directly in your ear now.

save your kitchen scraps. I'm talking carrot tops, peels, and greens. the tops & skins of onion and garlic. celery leaves. squash rinds. citrus peels. apple cores. tomatoes and lettuce that are just a little too wilted/mushy to be palatable. eggshells. cheese rinds. chicken skin. potato skins if you washed the dirt off. the water/oil from canned foods. BONES!! skins, peels, stems, leaves, anything that isn't poisonous but you wouldn't normally eat. we're going to make some fucking Broth.

(note: cruciferous veggies like brussels sprouts are ok in small quantities, but keep in mind that they're bitter and may bitter-ize your broth in larger amounts.)

put those scraps in a bag in the freezer. I'd recommend storing the liquids in a separate bag from the solids. add scraps whenever you've got em, until you've accrued about half a gallon ziplock of solids. now, you're Ready.

put a little oil at the bottom of a soup pot. just enough to sauté your solids. add some minced garlic and herbs/spices, if you have them (dried is fine, but i don't recommend powdered spices unless they're all you've got.) i like warming spices like star anise and cardamom pods; they make it taste like pho, sooo cozy. and of course, bay leaves!! if you have them, put at least 3 in there. minimum. trust me.

(if you don't have/want animal parts, add a little more oil than necessary for sauteing. you're gonna want the extra, believe me. I'd also sauté for longer, and pick an oil with a little flavor if you can, like olive. canola/vegetable is perfectly fine though.)

add the solids and sauté. i usually just thaw them in the oil, but if you're better at planning than me, you can put them in the fridge the night before. ideally you should sauté until the veggies start to brown. I'm not always that patient. it's fine. just make sure everything fully thaws and separates from one another. get a thin coat of oil over everything.

next, add the liquid ingredients and fill the rest of the pot with water (taking care to leave some space in case it boils over.) bring the pot to a boil, then turn it as low as your stove allows and leave it to simmer for as long as possible. this is KEY. let that shit MARINATE. let it STEW, no pun intended. i usually try to start this project in the morning, so i can leave it for the rest of the day. i have left it on overnight before but i can't recommend that in good conscience. do not burn your house down for broth. 2 hours would probably be my absolute minimum. stay close by, and stir it every so often so it doesn't boil over. chill on the couch. watch tv. enjoy the smell that permeates your house and makes it feel like a home. it's cozy time.

add salt, tasting as you go. you don't want to overdo it. some folks say to add the salt at the sauteing stage, but i feel this gives me too little control over the final product. i need control. I've got anxiety. but you do you. live your life. I'm not your boss.

once it tastes how you want it, strain out the solids. if I'm going to make soup right away, then I'll strain the liquid directly into another pot, throw in the soup ingredients, and simmer till everything's soft. otherwise, put it in a container you can freeze for later.

rejoice. broth be upon ye.

sip it when you're sick, make it into soup, use it in a casserole, cook rice with it. give a jar to your neighbors. you are the broth god. you are unstoppable. you will never waste a vegetable piece ever again.

go forth and Experience The Broth.

[whiteraven87]

Driven by Success: Golden Girl - 13. Building Walls

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

The Unstoppable Series - Masterlist

Part 2: Driven by Success. Golden Girl

Prologue

Unexpected Gift

Mercedes Golden Girl

Unexpected visit

New season start

The Pain that never Fades

Rebellion on Board

I'm not a trophy

The Campaign

The Edge of Fear

I am not for Him

Breaking Point

Building Walls

Adrenaline

Blinding Lights

Closeness

Don't Run Away from me again

Glows and Shadows

On the Edge

A Night full of Temptations

The Line you won't cross

Shadows of the Past

Confession

Emptiness

I Need Time

Is it over?

Epilogue

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

Warnings: long (very long) slow burn, age gap (23 years), woman racing in F1, boss/driver relationship, difficult and painful past, death, anxiety,

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

13. Building Walls

Spanish Grand Prix

POV Toto

The arguments were becoming more frequent.

From the moment I first heard her raise her voice at me, something between us started to shift. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t control her… and most of all, I couldn’t control myself when it came to her.

This weekend was hell.

I watched as she got into the car before the start—tense, rigid, but as always, focused. Her eyes were darker than usual, filled with something I couldn’t quite decipher. She didn’t say a single word to me. James gave her the final instructions. I stood beside them, trying not to feel the fucking anxiety that grew inside me with every passing second.

The race went to hell.

From the very beginning, I knew something was wrong. Miriell felt it too. I could hear it in her voice over the radio, in the way she talked about the balance, the vibrations—something that couldn’t be explained through telemetry data. But we told her to stay on track. I told her to stay.

Then everything fell apart.

When I finally heard her furious voice on the radio, when she growled that she had known from the start this would happen, I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

And then came those words.

"You don’t trust me."

They were as sharp as a blade.

I couldn’t focus on anything else for the rest of the race.

I knew her. I knew how she worked, and I knew she wouldn’t have said that unless she truly meant it. Which meant that I had failed her.

That’s why I went to her right after the debrief.

She shouldn’t have looked at me like that.

Her eyes were dark and full of fire, just like that time in London—when she had stood in the rain, drenched, furious, broken by something I hadn’t yet understood. That night, I had walked her to her room, and she had built a wall around herself so high I couldn’t break through.

Now it was the same. Except this time, I was the one who had driven her to it.

"Miriell, we need to talk."

"I don’t think there’s anything to talk about."

What I felt in that moment was a mixture of anger, frustration, and something else. Something that made it impossible to look away from her, even though I wanted to shake her, to make her understand, to make her see that it wasn’t that simple.

But then she had said that I didn’t trust her.

And that broke me.

I don’t trust her?

I was the one who had believed in her all this time. The one who had fought for her to be here. The one who had risked more than anyone else. And now she was telling me that I didn’t trust her?

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to react without exploding. So I did what I did best—I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I have never felt anything like this. Never." The words burned in my throat. "And that means I can’t let you have that kind of power over me."

She went silent.

She looked at me as if something inside her had just broken.

And that hurt more than anything else.

"Get out" she said quietly.

No, no, no…

"Miriell…"

"Get out, Toto."

I didn’t leave right away. I stood there, looking at her, fighting between what I wanted to do and what I should do.

I wanted to touch her. I wanted to pull her close, to hold her, to stop her from building that fucking wall again.

But I knew that if I didn’t leave, if I stayed… I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

So I left, slamming the door behind me.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure if I had just lost the most important thing to me.

Spain, Motorhome Terrace

I stood on the terrace of the motorhome, looking out at the paddock bustling with life, yet seeing nothing. My mind kept circling back to that damn argument. To her eyes, full of anger and pain. To the words I had spoken—the ones I never should have said.

Footsteps sounded behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know who they belonged to.

"You should fix this before it’s too late."

I sighed heavily and glanced at Niki. He stood with his hands in his pockets, slightly tilted to one side, wearing that look that said he knew more than I wanted to admit.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about" I muttered.

Niki scoffed.

"Don’t play me for a fool, Toto. You’re madly in love with that girl."

I clenched my jaw and looked away.

"It’s not that simple."

"Of course it’s not. If it were, you’d already be together, and you wouldn’t be at each other’s throats like two rabid wolves."

I stayed silent.

"What’s going on?" he asked finally, sitting on the terrace railing.

I ran a hand down my face.

"I don’t know how to reach her" I admitted at last.

"You didn’t have that problem before."

"Because things were different then." I let out a heavy sigh, looking at him. "We talked about everything, Niki. Every little thing. About racing, about books, about life… And now?"

Niki raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

"Now she avoids me whenever she can. And when we do talk, it always ends in tension or a fight."

"And you can’t control yourself around her."

I closed my eyes, feeling my jaw tighten.

"No" said quietly. "I can’t".

Niki nodded, as if confirming something he already knew.

"You’re afraid."

"Don’t give me that crap."

"You’re afraid, Toto" he repeated, his voice calm but firm. "Not of losing her. You’re afraid of what you feel when you’re with her."

I said nothing.

"You’ve never felt anything like this before, have you?"

"Never" I admitted softly.

"Not even with Susie?"

I exhaled through my nose.

"With Susie, it was different. It was peace. Stability."

"And with Miriell?"

I looked at him.

"Pure fire."

A knowing smile tugged at the corner of Niki’s mouth.

"And that’s exactly why you’re acting like an idiot."

"Thanks for the support."

"Toto, I know you. I know how you work. When you have control, you’re calm, rational. But when you lose it…"

"I don’t want to lose her."

Niki tilted his head.

"Then do something about it before it’s too late."

"You think it’s that easy?" I let out a bitter laugh. "She’s shutting herself off again. I know something’s wrong, but she won’t let me in."

"Then break through, for fuck’s sake."

I looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"I can’t force her into anything."

"That’s not the point. The point is that you need to be honest. To finally tell her the truth instead of hiding behind anger and pride."

I shook my head.

"It’s not that simple."

"Nothing that’s worth it ever is."

He watched me for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether anything he’d said had actually sunk in. Then he stood up and clapped me on the shoulder.

"You don’t have much time, Toto. Don’t waste it."

He left me alone, with thoughts I didn’t want to have.

And with one undeniable truth.

I couldn’t ignore this any longer.

Building Walls

Barcelona, Spain – Evening after the race, dinner

POV Miriell

The dinner was lavish. That was to be expected. Mercedes spared no expense on such events—white tablecloths, expensive wines, a meticulously curated menu. The hotel ballroom was filled with the most important guests: sponsors, team partners, people whose names carried weight in the world of motorsport and business. The lights were dimmed, but the atmosphere buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

I had no energy for this. I had no energy to pretend I was having a great time, to act as if I didn’t feel something inside me break after today’s race.

I was here because I was supposed to be. Because I was the champion. The team’s star. Duty. None of this was about me, about how I felt. No one cared.

Toto hadn’t even come to me personally to make sure I would show up. He sent Bradley. When he stood in my doorway, I just raised an eyebrow and said sarcastically:

"Oh, so now he sends people to me? He can’t come himself anymore?"

Bradley just sighed, knowing I had no intention of making this easy for him.

"He just wanted…"

"I don’t care what he wanted" I cut him off coldly.

He informed me about the mandatory dress code. The outfit waiting for me was designed by one of our sponsors. Francesca’s brand. Of course.

I scoffed but reached for the clothing. It was elegant—a black, fitted suit, trousers that accentuated my waist, an unbuttoned shirt, a blazer casually draped over my shoulders. High heels, light makeup, hair left loose. I looked good, fresh. But I wasn’t in the mood. And I didn’t plan to be.

When I entered the ballroom, I felt the eyes on me. People smiled, nodded, some approached to exchange a few words. Politeness, pure diplomacy. I automatically responded in kind, though my mind kept replaying my argument with Toto.

I didn’t want to see him, but I could feel his eyes on me.

I didn’t have to turn around to know he was watching. I just knew. He looked sad. Defeated, dejected, but that wasn’t enough to soothe my anger.

Then I saw Francesca. She was standing by him again. Leaning in slightly, smiling, confident. She was always close. Too close.

I shouldn’t have felt what I felt. It was childish. Jealousy, something I couldn’t control.

George, sitting next to me with his girlfriend Carmen, tried to cheer me up. He cracked jokes, nudged me, but everything bounced off me like I was made of stone. I was somewhere else. My mind was far away.

I did the bare minimum. After an hour, I left, leaving behind the elegant dinner, the conversations, the laughter, and Francesca leaning over Toto.

I went back to the hotel.

An hour later, at the hotel

I sat on the floor, my back against the couch, as silent tears streamed down my face, though I hated myself for it.

I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t.

He was everything. My home, the one I never had. My peace, my refuge. And at the same time, the chaos that turned my world upside down.

That terrified me more than anything else.

I clenched my fists, trying to steady the trembling in my shoulders. I had to pull myself together. I had to rebuild my shell. I had to focus on what I did best.

Racing.

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NEXT -> 14. Adrenaline

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"I put my armor on, show you how strong I am."

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[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

So you mentioned how you leave Hawke in the fade, do you ever bring Varric with on that quest? (Maybe I'm just a sucker for angst ((which I totally am cuz for my canon warden I have her date a soft Alistair who is pissed and dumbs her when she makes him king and then she makes the ultimate sacrifice and Alistair is devastated he never got to talk it out with her)) so I always take Varric and Cassandra with cuz I think it's nuts that the game doesn't have him react in the fade to leaving Hawke. So I picture a dramatic speech like fuck this Hawke let someone else be the hero for once, you deserve to live. And Cassandra is there seeing someone she put on a pedestal and saw as an unstoppable hero met their end.)

I've brought a few different combos into the fade but my favorite combo is definitely Varric/Cassandra/Solas; Varric because of Hawke, Cassandra because of Divine Justinia, and Solas for the fade itself.

I love and hate the fade quest for a number of reasons, but the part of me that revels in angst just adores it, it's such a heartbreaking part of Inquisition's story. I keep Alistair a Grey Warden, so it becomes a final choice of either making him stay behind, or my Hawke, Ed... it's a brutal choice that ends with Ed staying behind.

The meta reason for making this choice is I love Alistair too much. I want him and my warden to remain together until the end so I'd leave nearly anyone in the fade just to save him. And I don't want to make him king just to avoid the hard choice; he never wanted it, and Rose wasn't ever going to force it onto him.

But from a story-telling standpoint, Ed staying behind hurts so much because that's literally his fear; if he had his own fear engraved tombstone in the fade, it'd say something like "Abandonment" or "Being Left Behind." It's one of the reasons he stays by Anders' side after the events of DA2 despite ending their romantic relationship, he can't abandon the man he's loved for years even when everyone tells him he should....until, of course, we get to the fade and he feels he no longer has a choice.

Ed never wanted to be some hero or champion, but it's so engrained in his identity now that he constantly feels the burden of sacrificing pieces of himself for others. He feels the guilt of every loss he's suffered, whether it was actually his fault or not. In his mind, no matter how much it hurts, or who it hurts, it's the "right" choice to leave him behind... he's read enough of Varric's tragedies to know how this goes.

I also headcanon that when Carver's made a warden, he goes back to Fereldan to serve under the Hero of Fereldan and becomes best friends with Alistair. So I imagine that's another reason Ed insists he be the one to cover them. He went to great lengths to keep his brother out of this mess [even though Carver protested every step of the way] and doesn't want Carver to lose his best friend, even though he would also be devastated to lose his brother, but y'know.... Ed's just like, "Tell Carver I'm sorry, and that I always thought the world of him."

Even as Alistair, who never got to know his brother and dreamed about meeting his sister only for her to reject him, argued back... it's no use. Ed made up his mind to face his greatest fear to save them, and Ash begrudgingly agrees with him.

As for Varric, it hurts to watch him ask happened to Hawke... and then to listen to him recount a story about the kind of person Hawke was... and to give him a comforting hug... it all hurts.

But... that being said, I have thought about possibly doing a run where I do leave Alistair behind in a worldstate where Rose made the ultimate sacrifice. Alistair lost her and became disillusioned with the Grey Wardens, only remaining because what else is there for him? When it comes to someone staying in the fade, he insists it be him. He faces the nightmare as Hawke and the Inquisitor escape, and mutters under his breath, "Wait for me a little longer, my love," before attacking.

...because why not break my own heart some more, y'know?

Whether I'll be brave enough to attempt that is yet to be seen.

[thegeminisage]

ok. it's star trek update time. only one day behind thankfully! wednesday i pussied out of kiraodo hell so we did voy's "threshold" and "meld" and last night we finally DID do ds9's "crossfire" and then "return to grace."

threshold (voy):

absolutely nothing that i'd heard about this episode could have prepared me for the reality of it.

firstly, it must be said, the episode IS awful. there's absolutely no point to any of it, except, vaguely, tom paris's self-esteem issues, the thing he has to tackle after conquering his daddy issues. all told though he wasn't unbearable this episode, except for maybe when he insisted on taking the 2% risk to his fucking life

that said, did i give it a "must see" on the spreadsheet? yes, absolutely, even though it comes right before meld, which i gave a "must see" in a totally different way

like, sorry, if you can't tell what kind of a time you are getting into with one vs the other i can't help you

look. the fact of the matter is firstly i didn't expect all the body horror. also i didn't expect the salamander edging ie i thought they'd be salamanders the entire time and they only were for a few minutes. and finally: their wet, heaving, salamander bodies in the fog...was enough for me.

also, PEPPERONI!

finally, what the hell even was that conversation he and janeway had at the end. why aren't they more worried about their salamander babies. none of it makes any SENSE. it's glorious

meld (voy):

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

easily. EASILY. the best voyager episode we've seen so far. prior to now it was the one with the romulan but this one blows that one out of the fucking water

first of all, did you know tuvok has 4 babies and breed orchids because it's very important and he is so important he is my special little guy. i think if i was murdered i would definitely want him solving my case. he's a very thorough detective

the like..he just COULDN'T understand violence without reason. and instead of being like "wow that guy's got horns well not gonna let it ruin my day" he turns around and MIND MELDS WITH HIM? WITH THE SERIAL KILLER? "my vulcan nature will allow me to control it" YOU ARE INSAAANE

everybody talks about spock being crazy but it's gotta be just a vulcan thing. tuvok was willing to do the shady business deal, he is ALWAYS the first to put his hand on his phaser (so jumpy...), he's always clenching his jaw (thanks cathy i'm never going to be able to unsee it), like he is so far away from home and his babies and potential grandbabies and also his orchids, except for that one spock orchid he keeps in his quarters. he is under an immense amount of pressure. he got tortured like two or three episodes ago and (worse) someone HEARD HIM SCREAM and he just has to deal with that. my best friend tuvok. where was i even going with this

i love that he's afraid of himself. like he said about the torture: sometimes you simply have no choice but to endure the experience. he tried everything suder did: the holodeck, the therapy. it didn't work. (him fake killing holo-neelix was so scary btw because it was premeditated)

and i love that he has a REASON to be afraid of himself. this is the first instance since "amok time" and "all our yesterdays" we got a glimpse of what vulcans were like before they decided to go full surak, and like NO WONDER. BECAUSE THEY WERE SCARY. between telepathy, sheer brute strength, and incredible intellect, tuvok was nearly unstoppable. he fought his demons with all the fervor of spock himself. and speaking of spock...

the doctor said (and im copypasting here) "There's a definite neurochemical imbalance in the mesiofrontal cortex. That's where the Vulcan psycho-suppression systems are located." is this to imply there is a physiological component to the emotional control vulcans have, and if yes, spock may not have access to the full range of those abilities given his half-human heritage...? ie he's potentially stuck with the strength and lasting power of vulcan emotions and attempting to stay on top of them with fragile human impulse control

i don't know if i like it better that way, or if i like it better that he DOES have that ability and all the other vulcans still judge him anyway. after all, he certainly doesn't have half a pon farr or half the strength of a vulcan, biology doesn't work that way. but it is. sorry. fascinating to think about

and finally, who would i be if i didn't mention penetration? what a fucking line that was. i want to paste it over some spones screenshots. good fucking lord

sorry to make this voyager episode about tos. janeway and tuvok remind me SO much of kirk and spock i can't help but be into it a little even though i know their platonic friendship is really important and everything. i wouldn't have been mad if tuvok was single, you know? especially since, sigh, chakotay ends up with seven. he was so afraid of hurting her physically and then he hurt her emotionally and he was SO contrite...kill me

crossfire (ds9):

i don't want to talk about it.

actually wait yes i do. this episode wasn't fair to sisko. he NEVER yells at his people for no reason especially when it's clear they are normally competent and they're having trouble bc of emotional reasons. he sits down and talks to them about it! this was character assassination

okay and fine while i am talking about it i will also say i was pleasantly surprise by quark and the quark/odo. i'm gonna be a kira/odo girlie forever but i have been DYING for quark to do something interesting or with some emotional weight and he MET the challenge. this was the last person i expected to figure odo out, but in the end i don't think there could have been a better choice. odo said he didn't want sympathy and he meant it, and anyone besides quark would have attempted to give it to him (except maybe worf, lol)

oh, speaking of worf, their shared autism conversation...they need routines...personal space...love that for them

sorry, back to quark, it was REALLY funny when he gestured to his ears and went "hello?" it's exactly how i talk in 2024 so it got a huge laugh out of me

i don't dislike shakaar, and i did like a lot of cute kira/odo moments in this ep, but i think the elevator thing was stupid. i think it was also kind of rude for kira to be 20 minutes late to their meeting on both a personal and professional level and then be like :( when odo decided not to do them anymore. there was a lot of classic "friendzone" tropes in this episode, which weren't as tired and aged then as they are now, but jesus

anyway, i can comfort myself by knowing they go canon in the end. ik a lot of people hate them as a couple and i have a vague understanding that some of the bumps along the road continue to have these vibes, but i am prepared to ignore all that as long as they start kissing eventually

final note i read this on memory alpha:

this, but he saves kira instead and shakaar almost dies, and THAT'S when he has his breakdown about his love life interfering with his job/who he is and decides to attempt to get some distance. that would have been a much cleaner episode and also more gentle. idk why the think what they have is gentle. it was pretty brutal in places

return to grace (ds9):

man, every time they bring dukat in he becomes more complex and more layered and interesting. and we NEVER miss a beat with this guy. i was just saying aloud "this is all extremely fun and funny but i wish we remembered more often he ran a labor camp and did war crimes" and literally less than three minutes later they were discussing the fact that he did war crimes

like, you spend this whole episode thinking he's laying the moves on kira bc of his bajoran fetish/he's single now (which: lmao) and kira straight-up says "what he wants from me is forgiveness" when we as viewers got tricked into thinking what he wanted from her was the strap. (or, you know, both. one must be intrinsically linked to the other, naturally.)

and it si funny. again, they have that q and picard energy. the more he wants her the less she wants him and the less she wants him the more he wants her. he is a disgusting little creature and will Never be worthy of the strap!!!

love also that kira was like yeah you know what if you wanna run off half cocked fine i will raise your baby. you cant turn her into a little terrorist i cannot let you radicalize the child. that's twice she's wound up saving his daughter now

though i DEEPLY loved these two episodes with kira and dukat, i also miss when dukat had some weird gay thing going on with sisko. what, bc sisko's got a gf now he's just supposed to bow out gracefully? not my dukat

anyway, it was absolutely amazing to see kira in her element here, but i think it was such important character development that she goes "no, this isn't secretly what i live for, this TRAUMATIZED me, and i will live with the effects for the rest of my entire life." a lot of people on star trek post-war episodes have picked fights just so they could keep on fighting, because they quite literally don't know what to do with themselves otherwise. they NEED the war, they NEED the enemy. kira doesn't, and you get the sense she's only just now realizing that about herself. it's such a subtle but important bit of growth <3

NEXT TIME: ds9's "sons of mogh" and potentially voy's "dreadnaught" depending on time