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fishwithtitz · 1 year ago

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The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t) - Chapter 2

Summary: From beside me, I heard what sounded like a mix between a groan and a low breath. My brain told me to keep looking ahead, to ignore him, to wait until the movie was done and I was feeling better before finding Des and asking for somewhere to crash for the night. My impulsivity got the best of me and I slowly cast my eyes in Mary's direction. His eyes were slightly larger, the flickering light of the screen reflecting off the olive hue of his irises, and his bottom lip was just barely caught between his teeth. He clearly felt my stare because his head pivoted in my direction. His gaze was nearly smoldering.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Mary Goore x OFC / 8.5k words

Warnings: language, graphic description of oral sex, graphic depiction of manual stimulation, recreational drug use, alcohol, light gore

ao3 link

Chapter Two: Hook-up #2: The Den

Five hours. Five long, arduous hours of measuring, mixing, cooking, cooling, trimming, crumb-coating, frosting, and piping. I was almost certain that I had inhaled flour or powdered sugar at some point as my nose felt gritty and raw on the inside, but I tried my best to pay it no mind. I was on a mission.

It had been a few weeks since the house show at Thomas’ place (and the subsequent tonguelashing from Mary on the weather-torn roof), and I’d had done my best to try to write it off as the once-in-a-lifetime experience that I’d tried to originally pacify my nerves with.

It turned out that Thomas and Des had hit it off at the party, in more ways than one. I couldn’t say that I was necessarily surprised; Des was charming, alluring, and very persuasive when she wanted to be. Ever since she’d locked eyes on Thomas at the smoky bar downtown a couple of months ago, she’d known she had to have him, and to her credit, she’d accomplished it in record time. And honestly, I was happy for my friend. It had been a while since I’d seen Des so happy and free spirited while in the arms of someone she was so blatantly enamored with. However, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a tad bit jealous of Thomas and the hold he’d captured on Desiree.

Routinely, weekends had been spent just the two of us together - Doll and Des - curled up on my worn couch watching trash TV or engaging in parallel play as we sent videos back and forth that had us laughing so hard that we were covered in equal parts tears, mascara, and snot. Takeout or a drunken “do” meal (as I grew up calling them) of randomly delicious ingredients thrown together and cooked often followed, and both of us banked more memories than we could count of bonding through the sillied, domestic tasks we enjoyed together.

Not the past few weekends, though.

I got it, believe me, I did, but after the third night in a row that I’d been blown off for either a bar or a bedroom, I couldn’t help but be a little bit worn down at my best friend’s new love interest. To avoid being the ever-dreaded third-wheel, I denied Desiree’s kind offers of accompanying them out or to Thomas’ house, which unfortunately meant many nights of movies alone and crappy blue-box mac eaten straight out of the pot.

So when Des came begging for me to use my baking talents to make Thomas a custom cake for his 30th birthday (Puss in Boots eyes and all), I didn’t even hesitate to agree to the task. I missed my friend, and although I wasn’t looking forward to slaving over the black-metal themed confectionary after finishing a particularly grueling shift at work, I was happy to do this for her. “Besides,” Des had said, “it will give you a chance to do something you enjoy and live a little.”

So, here I was: my grandmother’s old apron tied haphazardly across my curved waist, melted chocolate and white icing smeared across my forearms and the backs of my hands, and the tip of my tongue perched between my lips in concentration as I finished piping the intricate Baphomet head and pentacle on top of the three-layer cake. I glanced up at the microwave clock and felt my stomach drop deep in my guts. The party was in a little over an hour, and I still had to pack up the cake, shower, and make myself look at least semi-decent before heading over. Taking a step back, I admired my work. It wasn’t perfect, but I knew that if I kept fussing with it I’d inevitably fuck it up, so I dusted my hands off with a sigh and left the kitchen to hurry through a shower and makeup routine.

After a way-too-quick rinse and a blow-dry of my hair in record time, I futzed through my closet to try to find something acceptable to wear. It was warm out, so I opted for a dark-printed swing dress and a pair of worn, black sneakers. As always, I lived by the motto of “comfort before style,” and I was fresh out of fucks to give.

I ran my curling wand through the long tresses of burgundy hair that hung down my back and framed my face before putting on a light face of makeup. It was too warm to wear anything heavy, and despite my annoyance of my freckled cheeks, I didn’t want to spend the evening wiping flesh-toned grease from my face every time I felt a sweat droplet dripping down my jawline. Simplistic it was, then.

I fastened my weathered St. Peter’s Cross necklace to rest on my decolletage and gave myself a quick once over before hustling into the kitchen to pack up the cake. After finding a cardboard box, some saran wrap, and multiple crumpled up balls of newspaper stuffed around the cake, I was off.

🜏🜏🜏

“Doll, you’re here!” Desiree swung open the front door with a cheshire-like grin, beckoning me in with the wave of her hand. I smiled at my friend, feeling genuine happiness for her excitement of both the party and for us finally getting to see each other. Awkwardly, I stepped into the home and followed her through the short hallway to the garage. “I want the cake to be a surprise,” she said in a low, nearly-whispered voice, ushering me out towards the outdoor fridge.

We set the cake on a lower shelf, still hidden by the recycled box I’d used to transport it in. She took a quick glance at the hand-drawn decoration on top and her eyes went wide before she all but pounced on me in a tight hug.

“It’s fantastic!” she squealed, holding me firmly before pulling back to look at me properly. “Doll, I can’t thank you enough. It’s so fucking rad. He’s going to love it.”

I flashed my own warm smile in response and chuckled. “Of course, Des. If he’s important to you, he’s important to me.”

We headed back into the house and Des led me out to the back patio, motioning towards a cooler propped against the sliding glass door as she stepped onto the eroded deck. I grabbed a random beer from the red and white Igloo and sat down in a nearby plastic chair, crossing my legs as I twisted the top off the bottle.

“Happy Birthday, Thomas,” I said as I leaned over, clinking the tip of my bottle against his own. At this point, Des had slid into the seat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder as she absorbed herself into the conversation happening around us.

“Thanks, Dahlia. Glad you could make it,” He replied as he tipped his bottle towards me in salute and took a swig, smiling politely before turning back to the chat we’d interrupted. I looked around and noticed that this party was definitely much smaller than the last one I’d attended here. There were only about ten other people, most of them acquaintances or friends from the music scene, and I recognized a few of them as Thomas’ band mates.

Leaning back in my chair, I took a long sip of my beer and allowed the warm air of the evening to envelop me. I had to admit, this was nice. It’d been a while since I’d been around friends with no expectations or masks to wear. I could just be me. I could enjoy the banter between the boys of which Metallica album was most iconic (and why according to Johnny, it was definitely Master of Puppets, because “zero skips,” of course), or how Mark was told by a coworker that it was “gay to wash your butthole” and how he found it completely fucked that one, he didn’t wash his ass, two, his coworker was homophobic, and three, Mark finally knew where the smell in the stock room was coming from. At some point during the story, Johnny had lit a cigarette which was now dangling dangerously from his lips, ash falling onto his jeans pocket as Mark animatedly told the tale. Suddenly, he patted the ashen pocket and his eyes went wide.

“Oh shit! I forgot to give you your birthday present!” Johnny fished a square (and slightly smushed) package from inside his pocket. It was wrapped in what looked like an old titty magazine, but I couldn’t be completely sure from my distance away from him on the patio. He leaned forward and plopped it into Thomas’ lap with a grin. “Happy 30th, dude,” he beamed with a salacious smile. “You’re officially a senior citizen.”

“30’s still young!” he defended with a glare, thumbs inching under the duct tape holding the wrapping together.

A snort was heard from beside him, and Greg, one of the guitarists from his band, muttered something to the effect of, “Yeah, for trees,” under his breath, which earned an even harder scowl from Thomas.

Thomas ripped the wrapping off and turned the slightly smashed box over in his hand. “Heat?” he questioned as he squinted at the brand on the box. He shook it a little and gave the parcel a quick sniff. “...is this a box of chocolates?’ His eyes looked at Johnny questioningly, but his lips were curved into a curious smile.

“Yup!” Johnny replied as he took another drag from his cigarette. “They’re kind of a present for the both of you.” He motioned to both Thomas and Des as he spoke, smoke rising from his hand.

“Are they spicy or some shit?” Thomas asked as he tried to read over the back of the box, picking at the plastic wrap covering.

“You could say that…” Johnny grinned, ashing the cigarette and taking another drag. “I figured that since you’re so old now, you might need some help getting your dick to work.”

I had been mid drink of my half-downed bottle of beer at his comment, and I found myself snorting as I swallowed, immediately causing the fizzy liquid to seep its way into my lungs. I coughed loudly, which luckily covered my laughter. Des and I both leaned over to get a better look, and I glanced at the small print at the bottom of the box:

“The high-quality chocolate that uses natural ingredients to increase your pleasure and boost your sex performance.”

“Are these aphrodisiacs?!” Des yelled out incredulously, eyes wide as she stared at Johnny.

All of my efforts to hold back my laughter were gone as I tilted my head back and dissolved into uncontrollable giggles. I couldn’t even formulate what Des was screaming at Johnny (although I knew it was likely something hilariously angry and defensive), and I beamed at the ridiculousness of the situation. I hadn’t laughed so hard in weeks, and it felt good to let go a little. Though, I’d never admit to Des that she was right…I’d never hear the end of it, especially now.

The conversation was cut off by a pounding on the door followed by three succinct doorbell rings. Des shot up out of her seat, yelling “pizza!” as she ran toward the door, tapping my knee on the way out as if to nonverbally ask for help. I grunted and rolled my eyes, begrudgingly getting myself out of the chair as I followed her. She must have ordered a ton of food if she needed two people to carry it out back, I thought.

Des swung open the front door and her look of excitement slightly fell, but she kept her smile in greeting. “Oh, hey Mary,” I heard from my place behind her.

Mary? I thought to myself. I felt my stomach somersault in my gut and I unknowingly bit at my bottom lip.

I hadn’t really seen Mary since the house show a few weeks back. Sure, he and Thomas had probably hung out, and if Thomas was socializing with anyone these past few weeks, Des had to have been there, too. However, she never mentioned anything to me. Then again, it would make sense that she hadn’t — I had never let her in on my evening hanging out with Mary (only that we had talked on the patio that night), and I definitely didn’t tell her about his shitty beer slushies and the eventual redemption arc of his head between my legs.

“...Do you need some help with that?” Des questioned as she moved aside, watching as Mary balanced at least three giant packs of beer while stepping through the threshold. The heavy boxes made the muscles in his arms appear permanently flexed, each limb framed by the cut-off sleeves of what was once a short-sleeve Morbid Angel tee. He was deceptively strong, and images of those arms curled around my legs as he dipped his face between my thighs ramparted my mind. I couldn’t help but watch as he moved swiftly through the house and out onto the patio.

“Nah, I’m good,” Mary grunted as he hurriedly beelined for the back door, pushing the crack of the door opening to the side with his foot as he slipped through with his contribution to the party. I subconsciously licked my lips and followed Des as she made her way back out to the patio with a sigh. Apparently, she’d really been looking forward to pizza.

The patio crowd cheered as Mary appeared and Thomas got up to help him empty a couple of the boxes of beer into the cooler. I slipped into my seat quietly, almost hoping to avoid his notice, yet watched as his hands smoothed out the cans of Keystone in the ice to ensure they fit when the lid was dropped.

He must have felt me staring, because his eyes shifted up towards me, quickly locking on mine. I felt my heart rate begin to staccato in my caged chest and I did my best to keep my face fairly stoic, though I knew it was futile. Those eyes like spring, of sage and straw, glued me into place.

“Hey,” he said, ever nonchalant as he finished organizing the brews and secured the lid. I looked down briefly, trying to mimic his cool behavior, and then flashed him a small, polite smile.

“Hi,” I replied quietly.

Mary took a seat on the other side of the patio (it was the only empty seat available) and struck up a conversation with a couple of the guys and their girlfriends that were nearby. I tried my best to engage myself in the exchange happening between Thomas and Chassie (another mutual friend of ours), but my mind was swimming with snapshots of my evening with Mary. I mentally shook it off, likening my response to my all-too-often loneliness and trying to focus on celebrating Thomas’ milestone birthday.

Not long after, pizza came, and we hovered both in the kitchen and the patio as we listened to Sabbath playing over the speakers and shot the shit with one another. The more beer I drank and pizza I ate, the more I loosened up, and I found myself reconnecting with some of the old friends I used to see at various venues around town. Mary weaved in and out of the conversations, but I did my best to pay him just as much mind as anyone else. He didn’t seem phased by me, and surely, I wasn’t phased by him, either.

I heard the door to the garage slam, and Des’ voice echoed through the kitchen landing. “Move it, out of the way, come on,” she said as she weaved through the couple blobs of congregated bodies, the cake box obstructing her face enough that she had to peer out from the side to see. I met her at the kitchen counter and helped her to unsheath the cake from the box, gingerly peeling the plastic wrap from it.

“Oh, god damn it,” she exclaimed as she stared at the top of the cake. I felt my stomach drop with fear that I had messed something up, but it was quickly abated when she continued her sentence. “I fucking forgot candles.”

Mark, who was unknowingly standing behind us, fished through his pocket before brandishing a cigarette. He held it between his lips and lit it before plopping it dead-center into the cake, the smoking stick appearing as if it was perched in Baphomet’s mouth. I let out another chuckle and Des shrugged.

Mark moved to help Des carry the cake, but she slapped his hand away playfully in an act of defiance and likely in worry that his drunk ass would immediately drop it on the floor. Though somewhat heavier than she expected, she slowly glided across the open kitchen and into the dining area. Chassie noticed and yelled out “Hey, cake’s lit!” and waved a few people in (Thomas amongst them) from outside to the dated dining table.

A raucous chorus of “Happy Birthday” rang through the room as Des set the pitifully smoking cake in front of a now front-and-center Thomas. I could tell he was trying his hardest to hide his smile, but as he looked at Des with softened eyes, it was obvious how touched he was at the personalized gesture. The moment was immediately broken when one of the guys belted into his own rendition of the song, singing, “Happy Birthday to you, you’re older than poo. If you were a horse you’d be made into glue!” which earned deep laughter from the majority of the room.

The cake was a three-layer round cake coated in thick chocolate frosting. A bright white Baphomet stared ominously from the center of a pentacle, while swirling piping lined the borders and edges. Thomas took a moment to study the cake, shaking his head in mock-annoyance at the song. As he went to blow out the “candle,” he stopped just short of the cake, eyebrow cocked, and slowly removed the smoking (and now ashen) cigarette from the middle of Baphomet’s lips. Mark took it from his fingertips and inhaled before licking the chocolate off the filter with a shrug.

The cake was cut quickly by Des and passed out on whatever dinnerware Thomas had laying around the house. It didn’t take long for only crumbs to remain on the cake board — a badge of honor that I took with silent pride.

After everyone enjoyed their cake, additional pizza, and sweaty cans of beer, Mark sidled into the kitchen to stealthily pour himself a shot of vodka and a chaser of soda. The bottle of soda that he’d found hidden in the fridge had been nearly empty, and as he drained it, realization lit his face. “Shit, Tommy, there’s one more present we forgot to give you!” he yelled out as he grabbed the bottle and ran out to the patio.

Empty two-liter bottle in one hand and a bag of bud that he had fished out of his pocket in the other, he looked at the crowd on the deck with a grin.

“Anyone up for grav hits?”

🜏🜏🜏

A small group of people crowded around the stained tub in Thomas’ spare bathroom — one sitting on the closed toilet lid clothed in a fluffy cover, and two others leaning up against the side wall. I sat on top of the builder-grade countertop, legs crossed, a shiver dancing against my skin at the feeling of the cold formica on the backs of my thighs.

Mark sat on one side of the tub’s edge while he fashioned some tin foil to place over the top of the mouthpiece of the cut-off soda bottle. Thomas sat across from him watching intently while his hands clasped onto the bag of pungent flower. Only a handful of us had been interested in the present Mark brought for Thomas ( Des had decided to stay out on the patio with the rest of the crew). I didn’t mind — the bathroom was small and it already felt pretty cramped with the amount of willing participants. Plus, I saw this as opportune bonding time for Thomas and I.

My eyes studied Mark’s fingers absently as he pricked holes into the tin foil and began to load the bowl with a mixture of shake and bud, packing it almost fastidiously, his movements careful as to not drop it into the water-filled bathtub. After he was satisfied with his work, he proudly handed the makeshift contraption to Thomas and extracted a BIC lighter out of his jeans. “Want to do the honors, birthday boy?” he asked as he handed him the light.

Thomas sank down to his knees and crouched over the tub, lowering the sliced bottle into the water so that only the top third was left unsubmerged. He held onto the threads of the mouthpiece as he flicked the lighter with a quick flit. The flame etched the surface of the weed, leaves and flower petals curling into charcoaled darkness as smoke began to simmer and swirl in the bottle's thick body. Thomas focused on making sure the bottom of the bottle's cut-off edge remained submerged but that there was enough room inside to collect as much smoke as possible.

When he was satisfied, he removed the flimsy silver bowl and handed it to Mark quickly before fixing his mouth over the neck, inhaling deeply as he pushed the bottle down into the water. The thick haze slurped into his lungs almost instantaneously and he all but shot up, the plastic bottle bottom dripping as his face contorted into discomfort. He let out a series of coughs before grinning wide at Mark.

"Forgot how hard that shit hits-" he started, head shooting to the side when the door bolted open and almost hit the man standing behind it.

"Oh fuck, sorry," I heard, and I lifted my legs from their dangling position over the bathroom vanity to hug my chest, hoping to avoid getting smacked by limb, body, or door.

Mary slipped into the bathroom, his golden hair stringing into his eyes as he turned to fasten the door shut again. He stood awkwardly in front of the threshold as he realized there wasn't much room in the bathroom for him to stand. Thomas reached up and opened the small window above the shower to filter out some of the smoke before inching his way past the person on the closed toilet and the few against the wall.

"I'm gonna find Des. Thanks for this, man," he reached across and clasped his hand with Mark's in gratitude, grasping into the handshake tightly before slipping past Mary and out the door.

I sat awkwardly on the countertop, doing my best to keep my legs folded and out of the way while still ensuring my dress covered my crotch and ass. I could feel the cold metal faucet pressing into my back and my butt felt like it was about to slip into the basin of the sink.

Over the next ten or so minutes, I watched from my uncomfortable position as a few more people in the bathroom each took their hits, most of them leaving directly afterwards to find some air in a less-cramped space. Eventually, only myself, Mary, Mark, and the guy sitting on the john (who I’d learned was named Jesse) remained. Mark gestured to me as he dumped the ash from the foil into the clear water of the tub and began to fill the bowl again.

I hopped from the counter, smoothing the skirt of my dress as I slipped past Mary and toilet man, eyes straight ahead to avoid any contact. As I knelt in front of the tub, I felt the cool tile lick at my knees and the heels of my feet dig into my bottom. Mark handed me the bottle and lighter.

I could feel Mary’s stare from behind me, and while I’d like to say he was decent enough to keep his eyes above the belt, I was certain he had snuck a glance at my ass as I flicked the wheel of the lighter. Shaking the perverse thoughts that bombarded my head, I pulled the aluminum from the bong and lowered my head, lips dancing across the mouthpiece as I inhaled deeply and fully while expertly submerging the bottle.

It was as if I licked a fiery raincloud. The smoke hung heavy in the alveoli of my lungs, pricking at the blood vessels and sacs, and I closed my eyes to keep them from watering. I rose up and exhaled, my hand softly pushing the 2-liter to Mark as I turned and gently pushed past Mary to exit. My head was swimming and I was doing everything in my power not to cough. I didn’t want to make a complete ass out of myself. Unfortunately, that also meant I was holding my breath.

I could hear the dull thud of the music playing through the speakers outdoors and unremarkable chatter punctuated the beat. I didn’t even recognize the feeling of my feet against the Pergo as I padded down the hallway and across the landing, down the carpeted steps, and right into the den, sinking onto the worn plaid couch with another weighted exhale. My head was spinning and my stomach wasn’t far behind. Maybe smoking after a handful of beers wasn’t my smartest choice.

Eventually, I lowered my forehead to the armrest of the couch and closed my eyes, lifting my legs up to curl under me as I soaked in the cool quietude of the empty den. I sat there for what my mind registered as an eternity. The calm doused my speeding heart and helped me to keep the heavy reams of impending panic from erupting in my chest.

I melted into the firm side of the couch, brow bone melding with the scratchy plaid material, and reached an arm out to ground myself against the side table. I'm not sure how much time passed —it could have been a few minutes or nearly a half hour— but my body was lulled into a calmer, settled state when I heard the slap of a remote against something firm followed by some quieted curses. The click of plastic buttons on the TV console tickled my ears.

Within seconds, sound from the TV began to ring out in the quiet den, the volume loud enough to hear over the buzz outside but quiet enough as not to startle me. I felt the couch slump next to me and the scent of cigarettes, weed, leather, and musk whooshed into my nostrils from the movement. I craned my head up to look at the man next to me. I'm not sure why. I already knew it was Mary.

"Assholes found lawn darts in the shed outside and decided to set up teams. Fuck if I’m gonna get stabbed," He started, bringing a bottle of water to his lips. My eyes trailed his form. His legs were crossed at the ankles, boots perched on top of the coffee table in front of us, and at some point during the night he had put on his leather jacket. He looked over at me and his demeanor changed from one of kind indifference to one of concern. "...you good?" he asked, turning to face me.

"Mmph," I mumbled, trying my best to sit up straighter against the pillowy back of the couch. I licked my dry lips and realized for the first time just how cottony my mouth felt. "Too high."

Mary let out a soft chuckle and the nerves that I had spent time pushing down into my belly threatened to peek through again at the warm sound of his voice. “Not surprised," he said with a shrug, eyes flickering to the movie on the screen before falling back on me, "I’ve never seen a chick take a hit like that before. You’re a pro.”

I wanted to argue with him. In a much more sober state, I would have denied his compliment and told him that getting the spins from smoking bud was not the sign of a pro, but at the moment, all that came out of me was the sentence "I am liquid garbage." I licked my dry lips again and inwardly groaned at the Sahara that was my mouth.

“It’ll pass.” Mary reached over and handed me the water bottle he had been drinking. I smiled, recalling the last time he'd shared his beer with me weeks ago out on the patio, and I took a couple of swigs. Capping the bottle, I handed it back to him, sinking a little further back into the couch as I began to watch the scene unfolding on the screen.

"What movie is this?" I asked after a beat, bringing my legs to cross in front of me as I snuggled into the pillows resting against the arm of the sofa.

Mary murmured his response, clearly focused on the film, and I didn't quite hear what he said. Or, if I did, I didn't recognize it. It looked like an older film (something I confirmed when I glanced across the room and saw the VHS cover thrown on the floor next to the TV console) and the quality led me to believe it was likely an indie film or B-movie. That seemed to track from what I knew about Mary.

We sat there for a while in a comfortable silence as the movie played in front of us. The lights of the den were off, but the incandescent kitchen lights shown in from the hallway, which paired with the glow of the TV made the details of the room fairly visible. We watched as the characters on the screen sculked down a dark alleyway, not a care in the world, and from my horror trope knowledge I knew that the action was about to start.

From my left, I heard the crinkling of a wrapper and the distinctive clunking noise of something bitten. Another wrapper crinkled and Mary brushed my arm with his own, his hand coming out in front of me.

"Here, eat something," he said as he handed me what looked like a square of chocolate. I felt my stomach tumble a little at the thought of something sweet, and I made a gruff noise in response, shaking my head a little.

Mary shook the chocolate slightly as if to double down. "It'll make you feel better. Settle your stomach."

I all but rolled my eyes as I grabbed onto the candy and muttered a noise of thanks. Typically, I'd argue with him that sugar was the antithesis of a sour stomach remedy, but his sweetness and ever-present thoughtfulness won me over. I snapped the chocolate with my teeth and as it melted on my tongue, I sank a little further into the couch cushions. It was good — a little more bitter than I expected, citrus-y, and not nearly as rich as I had worried about. Damn it, I hated when he was right.

Before I knew it, I had downed the whole square. Unbeknownst to me, Mary had watched with side-eyes and already had another square ready for me when I'd finished, which I accepted gratefully.

We remained like that, mere inches between us as we snacked on square after square of dark chocolate until barely any remained, absorbing the scenes of the movie unfolding before us. I felt warm and heavy and full in the sanctity of the cozy sunken room and the party outside lived far from the boundaries of my mind. Glancing at the table, I looked to see if I could find a wrapper or box to mentally note the brand of chocolate to buy it later, and I noticed a familiar smashed box laying open on the surface. Within seconds, the recognizable panic rose in my chest.

"Mary," I started cautiously, staring at the box, "where did you get those?"

I saw Mary shrug out of the corner of my eye. "They were in the kitchen."

I swallowed harshly. "So...you just…took them?" I said slowly, hoping to clarify that he hadn't taken what I thought he had. After all, Mary had shown up late. He wouldn't have known what they were.

This time, Mary turned his head to look at me straight on. The look on his face was relaxed and seemingly unbothered. "The box was all damaged so I assumed someone would throw them away. And Thomas is more of a Hershey guy," he reasoned.

At that moment, my heart fell out of my ass — partially because we had just eaten Thomas' entire birthday gift, but more so because of what we had eaten.

My face must have been a clear tell, because the long-haired man in front of me cocked his head in confusion. "Mary, those were, uh..." I tried to choose my words carefully despite the haze in my mind, "...those were fucking chocolates."

He laughed and looked at me with eyebrows raised and eyes wide, a look of ridiculing understanding on his face. "I know they were chocolates," he said with another mocking chuckle.

I grunted in frustration. "No, they were FUCKING chocolates!" I sighed and ran my hand through my long hair, tilting my head back as I searched for the right words. "God damn it, Mary, chocolates for fucking. Sex chocolates!" I looked over at him, my grey eyes widened a little in irritation, and studied his face for his response.

He shrugged, fucking shrugged, and leaned back a little further into the couch. "That shit is all marketing BS," he waved his hand and settled back in to watch the movie. I was certain he didn't notice me glaring daggers at him.

Despite my frustration, I followed suit and decided to distract myself with the film. I couldn't really decipher the plot (which I mostly attributed to my intoxication), but I began to deduce that it was some sort of slasher film riddled with horror cliches and gore.

My suspicions were quickly confirmed when the movie cut to an intimate scene between two of the side characters. As they moved against each other in the dark, clothing half-ripped off, lips trailing skin, and almost pornographic moans permeated the screen, I felt my stomach tighten. I wasn't typically the kind of person to be affected by sex scenes in movies or TV, but for whatever reason, I felt a rush of heat flood my abdomen and pull at my navel.

Shadows moved behind the preoccupied couple on the screen and I tried my best to focus on the horror element of the plotline. The murderer is in the room and is waiting for the opportune time to strike, I told myself in prediction, willing my eyes to study any and every small detail in the movie to keep the tugging at my core from building.

I licked my lips and let out a quiet breath, hoping to God that Mary didn't hear me. Anger started to prick at my gut. Was this a placebo effect? A side effect of weed and alcohol? Or were those chocolates the real deal? Regardless, I pulled my knees to my chest and did my best to not allow the movie to bother me (one way or another).

From beside me, I heard what sounded like a mix between a groan and a low breath. My brain told me to keep looking ahead, to ignore him, to wait until the movie was done and I was feeling better before finding Des and asking for somewhere to crash for the night. My impulsivity got the best of me and I slowly cast my eyes in Mary's direction. His eyes were slightly larger, the flickering light of the screen reflecting off the olive hue of his irises, and his bottom lip was just barely caught between his teeth.

He clearly felt my stare because his head pivoted in my direction. His gaze was nearly smoldering. I licked my lips, the wet sounds and moans of the TV punctuating our focus on one another, and I felt the air grow thick with tension that was practically palpable. My fixed stare drifted downward to look at his bitten lip and I shuddered as I noticed the reddened teeth mark against the soft flesh.

I don't know what overcame me. Suddenly I was lurching forward, my legs bent below me as I pushed into him, hand resting on the worn fabric of the band shirt below the jacket, knees brushing the fabric of his jeans. Our faces were inches apart and I could see the stubble outlining his chin and cheeks. His hand snaked up between us and grasped the back of my neck, and before I knew it, he pulled me into him with such force that I nearly lost my balance.

My lips crashed against his for the first time ever, and through the fog in my brain and body, I noted their firmness, how they were slightly chapped but still velvety as they moved against mine. I shifted to lift a leg over his lap and straddled him, both hands resting against him as his own free hand came to slot against the curve of my waist. The fabric of my dress floated around our conjoined laps and I tilted my head to the side to deepen our locked lips.

Mary groaned and the hand on my neck traveled down my back and over my ass before gripping onto the other side of my waist. With both hands, he held me firmly and pulled me down into his crotch. I could feel the rough jean fabric scraping against my inner thighs and seat of my panties. I let out a whimper.

Heat soared through my groin and had I been clear-headed, I would have laughed at the aptly-named chocolates, but I was too distracted by Mary's noises and his guitar-calloused fingertips now brushing up my thighs and oh god did he smell good (all leather, spice, cigarette, and earth). I felt my dress flutter up to the crease between my legs and pelvis and his hands came to cup around my backside. I let out a wanton moan into his mouth and he pushed his tongue against my lips, parting them as he ground himself into me.

Had we been completely alone in the house (or at least in a more secluded space), I couldn’t promise myself that I would have had any restraint against Mary completely taking me right there on the old sofa. However, a moment of worry panged at my core and I separated from him slightly, mere centimeters between us as we both breathed heavily.

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?” I stumbled out, lips brushing against his own as I spoke.

Mary grunted in reply and pulled me in against him deeper. “Everyone is distracted outside," he murmured against my jawbone as he pressed slow, tantalizing kisses that flowed down to my neck. I tilted my head further to the side and fluttered my eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against my own, fingertips digging into the tines of his zippered jacket. His lips ghosted a sensitive spot on the curve of my neck and I felt electricity swim across my skin.

"I don't fuck people I don't know," I breathed out, feeling my own hips move against his now as if betraying my own words.

He let out a noise that registered somewhere between a groan and an "mmm" before detaching from my neck. One of his hands reached up to brush some rogue strands of hair that had fallen into my eyes, tucking them behind my ear as he brought our faces close together. "I guess we'll have to get to know each other better, then," he rumbled out, voice low as his thumb pressed into my jaw and pulled our lips together again.

The lights of the movie flickered behind us and screams from the victims of the story percussed our heavy makeout. I paid them no mind, but after the third scream and the sploshing sound of what I assumed to be blood, I could have sworn that Mary's kisses became more heated.

His hand trailed from my jaw and down to squeeze at my breast through the thin fabric of my swing dress, which earned him a moan from me in response, before he traced his fingertips down to the skirt gathered at my waist. He dipped his fingers low between the heat of my legs, swiping them once, twice up the crotch of my panties to feel the wetness gathered there. I felt him smirk against my lips and his nimble fingers pushed the damp cotton aside to graze my pussy. I let out a whimper into his mouth and he took this as permission to go a little further, stroking along either side of my inner folds with his pointer and middle fingers.

The muscles of my legs quivered at the sensation and I moaned a little into his mouth again, my tongue licking against his own almost lewdly as he rubbed his hand against me. He broke the kiss just barely, squeezing his fingers on either side of my clit. "Did you want me to stop?" he purred out as he languidly stroked.

"Please," I choked out, the tenseness of weeks without physical touch bubbling up in my abdomen and throat.

He began to remove his hand teasingly. "Please what? Stop?" he asked as he bit softly on my bottom lip.

I tugged my lip back from his teeth and opened my eyes to look at him imploringly. "Please don't stop," I practically begged before leaning back into his touch. He slammed our mouths together again and began moving his fingers with more speed and intensity, rubbing me up and down but being careful to never directly touch my most delicate spot. His teasing had me dripping for him, and right when I felt my frustration about to run over, he dipped his hand lower and slipped inside of me smoothly.

I let out a noise of complete pleasure against him, our lips breaking apart, and rested my forehead against his as my eyelids squeezed together. His free hand rocked me against him and he added another finger before curling them into me, pushing and stroking and prodding at my g-spot expertly.

"Mary..." I moaned breathily, and he grunted out in response as he leaned down to lick a stripe from my collarbone to my ear. Goosebumps pebbled my skin and I ground my hips into his hand, unknowingly pushing it into his swelling cock.

"I've been staring at you in that dress all night," he purred into my ear. The movements of his fingers began to speed up and I reached down between us to rub at my clit, but he beat me to the punch, his thumb reaching up to massage it at a teasingly slow speed. "How your tits were pushed up against your knees as you sat on the bathroom counter," he took in a sharp breath and I felt his inhale prickle the curve of my ear, "The way your ass looked bent over the bathtub, lips around that bottle. Fuck, I wanted that to be my cock."

I could feel the outline of his hardness pressing against me through his jeans, and images of his leaking cock being pressed between my lips made my gut flutter with need. I brought my fist up to my mouth and bit into it, groaning loudly and hoping that it was at least somewhat muffled. The desire pooling in the pit of my abdomen was threatening to break through, the dam nearly cracking, and I could feel each nerve of my pussy jolting with fiery synapses, just waiting to explode.

My head tilted back and I looked down at Mary through half-lidded, lust-drunk eyes. "Mary, I'm—"

He cut off my whine, his voice gravelly as he spoke. "I want you to cum on my fingers, babydoll. Just like you came on my tongue."

I felt the fire rage inside me and it was as if I lost complete control of my body. My hips writhed into him and my hand reached up to grab onto his shoulder for support, fingernails digging roughly into the leather of the battle jacket as I let out a noise of complete rapture. His hand on my hip darted up and quickly covered my mouth as he continued to fuck me with his fingers.

"Shhh, you didn’t want them to hear us, remember?" His eyes pierced into mine, pupils wide and blown with desire, and he watched every minute movement of my face as I came around him. Despite his sultry reminder, I keened against his hand, his skin tasting salty against my tongue and lips with each little noise. He pulsed me through my orgasm and circled my sensitive nub with increasing gentleness as I came down in his arms.

After a moment, he slipped out of me and brought his soaked fingers to his lips before making a show of sucking my slick from them. "You taste just as good as I remember," he breathed out with a smirk. I let out a shuddering breath, closed my eyes, and rested my forehead against his once more, our hair tangling in a mess of golden brown and mahogany tresses. I felt his dick pulse beneath me.

My mind shot back to our time together on the roof, and as I sat nearly puddled against him on his lap, I realized that I had yet to return any of his favors. With shaky knees, I pushed myself from him (earning me a brief look of concern) before I slid down his lap and onto the floor in front of him. The worry melted from his face as his eyebrows rose, and a grin stretched across his lips.

My hands slithered down the black denim of his thighs, ghosting the skin of the ripped knees, and I grabbed his shins to push them open. Settling between them, I reached forward to push his bullet belt up and pull at the button on his pants. It popped open with minimal effort and I gripped my hands onto the meat of his thighs as I leaned my face directly over his crotch. Taking the zipper in my teeth, I wrenched it down smoothly. The heat of his groin flushed against my cheeks and even without looking, I could tell he wasn't wearing boxers.

He quickly pulled his pants down from his hips to his knees and his cock sprung out, nearly hitting me in the face. While he was no Owen Gray, it was longer and thicker than I had imagined given his height, and I knew that it would be difficult to take him completely. Grasping onto the base, I flittered my eyes up to him and peered at his face through thick lashes as I licked the tip lightly.

Mary let out his own series of aroused noises and his hands grasped at the couch cushions below him. I smirked and knelt a little closer, back curving to highlight the swell of my ass as I took the tip into my mouth and sucked sparingly before letting it go with a pop. Mary whined at the loss of my mouth and I let out a small laugh, enjoying returning some of the teasing he'd put me through, before I grabbed the base and licked from his balls to his frenulum.

The dialogue from the TV just barely drowned out his heavy breathing and I surprised him by taking him into my mouth as deeply as I could without gagging, hand still squeezing around the base as I began to bob up and down. By now, the spinning nausea and hazy headspace was gone and I was feeling the more positive effects of the gravity hit, so I slid my other hand down to cup his balls as I took him a little more deeply into my mouth.

One of Mary's hands came to thread through my hair, grasping the burgundy locks with a tight grip as he helped guide me up and down his shaft. I pressed the tip of my tongue against the vein on the underside of his cock and he groaned out, lips spilling out the words "Fuck, just like that” as his hips quaked beneath me.

I continued to move my head against him, alternating licking and sucking, hollowing my cheeks and pulling lightly at his balls. I could tell he was close when his moans became louder and his arm started to tremble. Speeding up my ministrations, I looked back up into his eyes to see them closed, his head tilted against the back of the couch, and he started to jerk his hips up roughly into me. I relaxed my throat and stilted the gagging feeling the best I could, tears pricking my eyes as I let him fuck my face.

The tip of his cock hit the back of my throat and he let out a guttural noise, his other hand coming to grab onto my head as he thrust into my mouth. "Ungh, fuck, babydoll, you're gonna make me cum," he growled, and even with my recent orgasm, I felt wetness instantly pool in my already soaked underwear.

Seconds later, his hips spasmed into my face and he came roughly into my mouth. His salty spend pooled on my tongue and I swallowed around his cock before slowly sliding off with an audible "pop". A bead of cum dribbled down my lips and I wiped it with the pad of my thumb, popping the digit in my mouth to lap at it slowly while locking eyes with Mary.

He looked at me half-lidded, completely enthralled as I nearly devoured every drop of him, and I leaned back a little while shooting him pleased smile.

"I couldn't let you go through life without experiencing one of my blowjobs at least once," I said, nearly echoing his words from weeks prior. He instantly recognized this and laughed, one of his hands moving from my head to trace his thumb over the swell of my bottom lip.

"I don’t know what it is about you, dollface," he whispered. My heart leapt again at the nickname he'd assigned me and I hummed as I leaned into his touch before slinking up to sit next to him. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could hear the clink of his belt as he carefully tucked himself back into his jeans, the sound of his zipper whirring briefly through the heated air.

His arm came to snake around my waist and we sat there in a comfortable silence, film credits dancing on the screen. I heard the sliding glass door open from the kitchen and footsteps clatter against the fake laminate flooring, but I didn't move from Mary's grasp. I was too tired (and too satiated) to care.

After a while, I felt his lips press onto my forehead and I opened my eyes again to look at him. He motioned towards the last chocolate square on the coffee table with a subtle flick of his head, a smile carved into his face, and broke the quiet.

“...you gonna eat that?”

#mary goore #mary goore x ofc #mary goore x oc #mary goore x female character #repugnant #repugnant band #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #ghost bc fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #my writing

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tireddovahkiin · 6 months ago

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HIIII 💕💕💕

For the ask game:

Weekly routine and pets!

- Espresso ☕️💟

HEYYYY 'SPRESSOOO <333 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASKKK!!! *hugs tightly*

Weekly routine - do y'all have a day of the week where you do something special [movie night, date, etc.]?

Hmmm... Well, we're usually very busy being evil gods, me and Seph XD we almost always return home kinda exhausted. But we have this simple routine for winding down when home, like me helping Sephiroth with his hair care routine (EXCUSE ME have you seen that mans GLORIOUS silver hair, you CANNOT tell me he doesn't have at least an hour long routine for his hair ONLY-) while we listen to the music in the background, or preparing favorite dish for either Sephiroth or me (we both switch in cooking), or reading book(s) together. When we have time, though, movie nights, roof dates, video game playing and watching, walking, and bathing together are definitely our favorite things to do <3

Pets - if you have any pets, do they have a 'favorite' out of the two [three,] of you? Who washes them and who takes them out on a walk to let them dry or dries them with the dryer? Who do they cuddle more?

Indeed, we have pets! A shifting immortal snake, Beryl, and a three-eyed demon black cat, Nocturna🥺(Beryl was found by Tsizilia, and Nocturna was adopted by both her and Sephiroth.)

Ohhh, Sephiroth LOVES to tease me with his undeniable love for Nocturna. Since I get easily jealous when they're given love and attention, he likes to do it on purpose just to see me pout. (Sephiroth actually wants me to CLING AND PLEAD FOR HIM BUT NAH, I WON'T SUCCUMB.) I fire back by literally showering Beryl with kisses and cuddles, as he hangs out with me around my neck. That teasing lasts until someone of the two of us gives up and traps the other into a possessive bear hug😚

Sephiroth clearly loves Nocturna more than Beryl a tiny bit (which is obvious even under all that denying😭), but when he's feeling overly stressed and cannot step up with Nocturnas nightly energy, he likes to carry around Beryl around his neck as well, as he reads, or just let him gently crawl around his (beefy, sexy - Tsizilia) arms. He has this immense, calm energy, that we like to call Beryls 'Zen mode' (we even gave him a nickname, Zen-ryl XD)

It is usually me who washes the pets, and Sephiroth trims them/helps them through shading time. (He just finds snake/serpent shading very fascinating to watch🥺) I dry Nocturna, while Beryl is left to dry on his own.

Link to the ask game!

#🖤under my black wing...🪽#tireddovahkiin answers #ask box #ask #ask game #answered #self ship ask #self ship game #self ship ask game #self ship #fictional other #self insert #f/o x s/i

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scary-monsters · 2 years ago

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Diego Brando

Coming from dm!!! I wanna hear some Diego headcanons, could you tell us?

OF COURSE, THANK YOU 🤸‍♀️ im eating up every opportunity to talk about this man !!! some of these i've probably mentioned before but i have a few core HCs that i am quite passionate about so that's inevitable :'))

(warning for SBR spoilers!)

he's 5'3", i think this is widely accepted but i want to emphasize my love for short king diego

he has freckles, yes this is my tendency to give every single one of my favorite characters freckles but i won't back down on this

he's very particular about aesthetics, including but not limited to his clothing, his living space, the way he physically carries himself, the state of silver bullet's appearance (though he is very passionate about caring for her in general and considers it his way of bonding with her)

he's VERY good at braiding hair and can do several different kinds with ease and quickness.

morning guy, he likes being up to see the sunrise and get in some early morning exercise

modern diego is a huge movie buff, his favorite films are peak and you cannot convince him otherwise! he loves psychological thrillers, is very particular about the horror he enjoys, can't stand romantic comedies, and his secret guilty pleasure is animated movies about animals (spirit is very special to him)

modern diego watches hours of animal videos, if he's smiling at his phone it's very safe to assume he's watching something like "cat bonds with lizard" or "newborn foal walks for the first time"

annoyingly photogenic, he cannot take a bad picture no matter how hard someone tries to catch him off guard, however if you get a chance to take one while he's sleeping... that's when he looks the worst (he will not rest until you delete that photo)

when he's in love (rare!!!) or has decided to trust someone (also rare!!!) he gets soooo clingy and overly protective, he will do anything for the people he cares about, though gaining that trust is an extremely difficult and unbearable feat.. he's hard to love initially (and actively repellent to it anyway) but when his walls finally come down it's very much worth it

dinopants REAL, that's it that's the headcanon but araki told me himself that they're in love and compliment each other so well and make each other better people

modern diego loves jaffa cakes, they remind him of his mother because they would share them when he was very young

not the best cook but he really wants to be, his mother left behind a recipe book which he treasures dearly and wants to master.

he has a very loud laugh, it's actually a little off-putting 💀

if you don't laugh at his jokes then you're wrong and he will hold a grudge (im mostly joking but like... he thinks he's the funniest motherfucker around)

he's happiest when it's clear skies with lots of sunshine, he hates the cold, hates the rain, and despises snow, during the winter if he has to leave the house, even if it's just to get the mail or something, he wears several layers and bitches about it the entire time

scary monsters has long-lasting side effects on diego's body outside of him actively using it - his skin gets very dry much quicker (if he doesn't moisturize often his skin will peel and turn a gross green color), his nails grow exponentially faster and have to be trimmed often, he's much more sensitive to the cold, he can see perfectly fine at night without any light (his elevated senses are a canon thing anyway, i just think it's cute)

silver bullet is diego's bff !!!!!! he raised her from the time she was born and he cares deeply for her (when he called her his 'beloved' in canon i genuinely lost it) people have wronged him his entire life but horses have been his safe place for as long as he can remember

the bow on diego's helmet was placed there in dedication to his mother - the bows on his shirt when he was a child were hand-crafted by her in her (rare) free time and he's always associated these kinds of decorations with her

during the race diego finds solace in keeping his helmet close by him at all times, during quiet moments where he's alone he will have quiet conversations with it as if his mother is sitting there with him (it keeps him motivated)

diego genuinely cared for his late wife - he lacked a proper education while growing up, and while he did get some informal education during his time with the joestars, she spent a lot of time teaching him academics more relevant to his age, all while treating him with a kind of nurturing love that he'd been unknowingly craving and desperately in need of

despite this, he still has huge difficulty with vulnerability and emotional awareness in general (canon??) and has stuffed his inner struggles so deep down that he's not even aware of them anymore, his ego is definitely a coping mechanism for how troubled he actually is

but to end on a positive note: he has a youthful soul and at his best he's goofy and charismatic, he matures wonderfully and he makes an amazing mayor because he understands the struggles of the lower class and wants to work as hard for them as he can

i have to stop there or else i'll be here all day !!!!! a lot of the canon-related ones are/will be fleshed out in my current diego character study that i'm working on... god i love him he's so layered and interesting!!! and hot too!!!

#jjba #diego brando #diego #hehehehe thank you!!!!!#sorry this got so long im a wordy motherfucker

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starseedfxofficial · 1 month ago

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Dollar Flexes Muscle: DXY Surge and Fed Moves Explained Dollar Dominance: Why the Greenback is Flexing and What It Means for You Did someone say comeback? The U.S. dollar's been out here putting in the work, and it's showing. After three straight sessions in the red, the DXY (Dollar Index) has decided it's had enough and is bouncing back, out-muscling its peers and reminding everyone why it's the heavyweight champ. So, why the sudden flex from the dollar, and how should you, the savvy trader, adjust your game plan? Let's break down the latest moves with insights that’ll help you stay a step ahead. When the Dollar Lifts Weights, Everyone Notices Today, the U.S. dollar is flexing like it just came back from the gym—pumped up and unmissable. A notable uptick in U.S. bond yields has certainly played a role, like a shot of pre-workout for the USD, fueling its rally. The DXY is now hovering close to yesterday’s peak of 106.63, proving that sometimes a little pressure is all you need to come out swinging. What’s next? The market’s watching the latest Fed speeches—Barr, Cook, Bowman, and Collins are lined up to share their takes. Traders might want to keep an eye (or both) on their screens; Fed hints are like Easter eggs in your favorite video game—easy to miss but full of opportunities. Euro Gets Dragged Along—But Not in a Good Way The EUR/USD pair took a short-lived vacation above 1.06 overnight but is now back down, closer to where it started. It’s like those times you see a great restaurant but can’t get a reservation—it just couldn’t hold its ground. The Eurozone wage data for Q3 jumped to 5.42% from 3.54%, and you’d think that’d be a reason for some euro enthusiasm, right? Well, not quite. The market had other plans, and the impact was like adding sprinkles to a cake that nobody’s eating—nice, but not game-changing. The EUR/USD is currently hovering just above yesterday’s low at 1.0523, and with ECB heavyweights Lagarde and de Guindos set to speak later, you can bet traders are hoping for some direction beyond the typical central banker script. Yen’s Short-Lived Geopolitical Drama Yesterday, the yen had a little geopolitical boost—like a dramatic twist in a TV series that got everyone talking. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. USD/JPY is back to its usual trend, resuming its rise since the U.S. election. It’s printed a fresh week-to-date peak of 155.84, reminding everyone that the yen's appeal seems fleeting these days. If you blinked, you probably missed the yen’s shine—and if you’re a trader, you know that timing is everything. Sometimes it's like trying to catch a frisbee in the dark; even when you think you’ve got it, it’s already gone. Pound's Inflation Surprise: Is Cable Up for the Challenge? GBP/USD had a bit of a moment too, with inflation metrics coming in hotter than expected—across the board. Cable bounced from below 1.27 to a peak of 1.2714. The year-over-year services print also hit right where the MPC (Monetary Policy Committee) forecast it. If you’re keeping score at home, this makes for some compelling movement. Picture it like a springboard—the pound gets a little push, then rockets up. Now the question is: can it stay there, or will it come back down once the excitement fades? Antipodeans Get Left in the Cold It’s not all sunshine and roses for everyone, though. The Australian and New Zealand dollars are both on the back foot today, trimming recent gains. With few fresh macro drivers to stir the pot, the USD’s strength is leaving the Antipodeans in the dust. It's like showing up to a party where the host forgot the snacks—not much happening, so they’re hanging around but not making waves. The Quiet Chinese Yuan Move And finally, let’s talk about the yuan. The People’s Bank of China (PBoC) set the USD/CNY midpoint at 7.1935, a bit lower than the expected 7.2386. To be honest, it’s kind of like hitting a slightly different note in a song that’s already pretty predictable. A subtle shift, sure, but hardly enough to get people dancing in the aisles. Yet, as traders know, these small moves can eventually lead to something bigger. It’s like the butterfly effect—except instead of a butterfly flapping its wings, it’s the PBoC adjusting the midpoint by a fraction. Takeaway Tactics for the Savvy Trader So, what can you do with all of this information? Let’s get tactical: - Ride the Dollar Wave: The dollar’s on a surge, driven by rising yields and a general safe-haven vibe. Consider how this influences pairs like EUR/USD or GBP/USD. Remember, when the big greenback flexes, the other currencies have to scramble to keep pace. - Watch the Fed Speak Like a Hawk: We’ve got multiple Federal Reserve speakers today, and while not every speech will be groundbreaking, the market’s ultra-sensitive right now. If you’re day trading, keep an ear out—a small slip of the tongue could translate into a big pip movement. - Eurozone Data Not Always What It Seems: The wage hike in the Eurozone didn’t help the euro much, did it? The takeaway? Not all good news is equal. Sometimes the market simply shrugs. Don’t get too excited just because the data looks rosy—dig deeper to understand what the market cares about. - Keep Your Eye on the Yen for Sudden Moves: Yesterday’s geopolitical lift for the yen was short-lived, but there’s always a chance for more. Keep a flexible mindset—and, as always, stay nimble. - Mind the Antipodeans: The AUD and NZD aren’t having a great time today, and with macro drivers on the light side, they could be at the mercy of USD movements. Opportunities might come for a bounce, but timing is crucial. What’s Next? The dollar is in the spotlight, and everyone else is along for the ride. This isn’t a time to be complacent—you’ve got the tools, you’ve got the news, now it’s about putting them into action. Want more insights, tools, and ways to navigate these turbulent waters? Don’t forget to check out our resources to stay sharp, stay informed, and most importantly, stay profitable. After all, in the world of Forex, the only constant is change, and the best traders are the ones who know how to adapt. Ready to uncover more game-changing insights? Tap into our exclusive economic indicators and latest news at StarseedFX Forex News Today. Plus, don't miss our in-depth Forex courses and community membership for those elite tactics you won't find anywhere else. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

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p03swife · 6 months ago

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i'm so excited, some of the last parts I need for my new pc came in!! which means my full inscryption autism will be released soon...

While I've been stockpiling parts, I've been working on assets for the video as well as finishing up my Kaycee's Mod video script and... it's over 50 pages... it was up to 80, and I've been trying to trim it down but I can't stop yapping about Inscryption, so it'll just be a long video >.>

but the game plan is the first video will be an Act 1 Kaycee's Mod rundown with a deck tierlist for Skull Storm, followed by 8 individual videos going through Skull Storm with each deck, and then something I've never done before, I'll be doing an ironman challenge with all 8 decks back to back! and if I lose, I'll restart back to the first deck! the first video is still a little ways off, as I'm just waiting for my 12 tb to arrive to finish my new build, and then after that I'll need to edit the video and record footage, but...

this is just something I cooked up for Act 1 Kaycee's Mod, I have sooooo many other video ideas for Inscryption!! And I really want to try out P03 in Kaycee's Mod after all of this is finished!! i've tried my best to stay blind to it, so it'll be like my treat for enduring waterborne deck hell at the end of the ironman :3 (i hate you kingfisher i hate you. and you too great kraken but not as much)

#hehe rambling #my new pc build is overkill but i love it #i got a 1000 w power supply im gonna take full advantage of it!!!!!#the sonic motherboard is what made me really want to make a new build #im so happy i got it

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epsilontauri · 1 year ago

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dealing with grief is so fucking wild.

one moment i‘m ok and packing my things into neat little moving boxes, and one second later i‘ll remember how she always greeted me in a sing-songy voice and immediately offered me food, tea or coffee when i walked in.

and then i weep because she’ll never do that again.

i when i‘m somewhat ok again, i‘m telling people around me who never got to meet her who she was, how she was, hoping to make her immortal by planting little parts of her in the knowledge and memory of other people.

like, the way she planted mint in the garden and instead of taking over, it barley grew— she was always so frustrated about it! how does the mint not grow at all?! she just wanted to make fresh mint tea. or the way she managed to keep a huge pot of sage alive without doing anything. how she was concerned every winter for the fern that she planted outside of her kitchen window. how she scribbled into all of her cooking books, especially when she liked a recipe. how she collected and build her own library, but kept mixing classics with fantasy and children’s books.

she wrote poems and short stories. i hope she wrote them all down somewhere and we‘ll manage to find them. she wanted to color her hair in a hot pink once the white hairs were more prominent. she asked her youngest son in the morning how many books she should take with her to read in the hospital after the surgery. she asked her second oldest son what kind of cake he wanted next week for his 33rd birthday. she always let her husband trim her long hair. she wasn’t crafty at all and couldn’t sew to safe her life (it was her husband who would fix everything with the sewing machine) but after she spent one summer looking after her grandmother as a teen, she learned how to knit socks and kept doing that.

she believed that magic is found in nature, and she showed me where to look for it. she was always making sure that everyone is treated fair. she accepted immediately that i‘m non-binary’s without any fuss and called me ain from then on. she even understood how i felt about womanhood and related to it, and she told me she’s probably nonbinary too, and i was almost crying in relief, bc my own mother was just crushed and weeping as if i just died in front of her. one time she was more excited to see me that her 3rd son (my ex), despite haven’t seen him in a long time too, bc i wasn’t around as often after i broke up with him after my outing. she loved harry potter but no longer wanted to read it after i told her about jkr’s transphobia.

and she loved halloween so much! she decorated the house in fake spider webs and was always a bit disappointed that no kids came over for candy, mostly due to the fact that her house is on the very end of a steep road up the hill. she loved moomin. i hesitated taking the mug with moomin-papa bc it was her favourite, but i took it bc she also knew that i liked it a lot. the coffee tasted less bitter in it.

i once tried to embroider her medieval dress and only managed to finish one side, but she was excited nonetheless about my work and proudly announced that it’s my work whenever someone pointed it out. i still have the rings that she gave me as a gift, and she wanted me to inherit a beautiful hand-painted wardrobe from 17-something, just because it was a wedding gift of the girl who happened to share my deadname and she still thought i was meant to have it, even if my name is a different one now.

gods, i miss her so much. she was less like a second mother and more of a friend to me. this shouldn’t have happened. she should be around and complain about the heat and how she gets tired more quickly while reading. she would tell me how this time, she would refuse to do the math exercises during recovery, even if it‘s important to monitor her brain function, and eventually admit that she would do them, but still has the right to complain about it bc of her dyscalculia, and i would send her pictures and videos of my cats to cheer her up.

i wanted to tell her that i found my person and that i‘m engaged and we’re planning to get married. i wanted her to meet my fiancé and see them both talk about movies and art and board games. i looked forward to see her excited smile and feel her crushing hug and her breathless „…but oh ain, that is so wonderful!“ i wanted to share my special interest in danmei with her and give her one of the books to read.

i just want her back. i want her to be around happy and healthy and enjoying retirement with her husband.

but she won’t. she’s gone.

#tw: death #tw: grief #tw: grieving #death #grief #grieving #i was holding back tears on the train ride for 1.5h and when i saw the hill where their house is the tears started running down my face #and when i entered we all wept and crushed each other in hugs #her husband just looked at me with big eyes and just said «…nici is no longer around»#my ex was the only one of the brothers who wasn’t around #he was at home packing his things bc he’s moving back in for a while to take care of his dad #my friend/ the daughter in law was just in the kitchen and cooking her feelings out. nici would have loved that.

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notyetneedcoffee · 2 years ago

Text

Kicking Up Dust - Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None in this chapter. Slow burn to NSFW

A/N: Takes place after 'Falcon and the Winter Soldier' with one major exception - Steve Rogers is not dead. He stepped down. This is in line with my Crossroads story. There will also be a parallel Steve story coming.

ONE

New York City felt busier and more crowded than you’d ever known it. Perhaps the construction sites on every other block and the mass of detours made it worse. People walked shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalks, which was better than stand still of the cars. No matter the reason, you weren’t particularly happy to be back.

The lobby of Stark Tower underwent renovations, too. A subdue black granite memorial stood in the center of the mass entry hall to those lost in the battle with Thanos. You paused briefly, to look it over. Easily fifteen feet tall, the monolith had gravitas and restraint. It was nothing like some of the flashy tributes elsewhere else.

Also new to the lobby was a large glass and steel sign for the Integration Initiative. The foundation created by Pepper Potts and Steve Rogers to help people returning from the blip. They worked with the various governments and organizations unhappy with the Global Repatriotization Council. The organization also issued grants to organizations that help individuals rebuild their lives, relocation and rehoming, new career training, and even mental health services.

“May I help you?” A young man behind a marble reception desk smiled.

“Yes,” You returned the smile and handed him a business card. “I have a 10 o’clock with Ms. Potts.”

“Thank you.” He checked the computer and pulled out a visitor badge. “Kimberly will be down in just a moment to take you up. Please wear this where it’s visible at all times.”

“Thanks.” You stepped to the waiting area. Before long a woman called your name. She introduced herself before leading you to the elevators. On the seventy-second floor, you were taken to a huge office. Pepper called your name before you even entered. “Hi!” You met her halfway across the office and welcomed her hug.

“How have you been?” She motioned for you to sit.

“Busy. How about you?”

“Same. It’s weird being back here, but it’s what makes the most sense right now with all the work we’re doing. Plus, it allows Morgan to be here with me.”

“That’s good. I love the video you sent me of her cooking.” You chuckled.

“She’s got Tony’s mad-scientist thing going on when she’s cooking, doesn’t she?” Pepper grinned. “What’s the cause of the visit?”

You’d known Pepper for years, having provided her with antiques and art for Stark’s properties. Since the snap, though, you’d taken on a new endeavor. Combining your love of restoring old things, and your love of decorating, you started a company that restores large old homes and reapportions them for multi-family dwellings for those needing to reestablish their lives. It was work helped with grants from the Pepper’s company.

“I found something that I think is important.” You pulled out an old leather-bound journal and handed it to her. You saw her eyebrow rise as she read the owners name and a date written in beautiful script on the first page. “There’s a ton more.”

“Wait right there.” She got up and left the room.

A few minutes later she returned. On her heels walked Steve Rogers, reading the journal. You’d never met him in person, but the sight of him in jeans and sweater was new. So was the neatly trimmed beard. He looked, normal, relaxed even.

Pepper introduced you. Steve took your hand and lowered himself into the chair beside you. Held the journal, reverently. “Where did you find this?”

“A house in Connecticut, outside Danbury. It’s an old Victorian I just purchased and started to clear out for renovation. It’s been boarded up for 23 years. I did a little homework, and the last owner was listed as Wilbur Lewis. He inherited it 83 years ago. But I don’t think he’s the one who lived there, or if he did it wasn’t for long. I think his wife’s younger brother, Archie Peterson lived there, along with his wife.”

“Rebecca Barnes...”

Bucky ignored the phone again. He could hear it ringing where it lay buried in the pocket of yesterday’s jeans, somewhere in the corner of his bedroom. It’s been going off all morning, but he didn’t want to talk to anyone. It’d been a bad night.

His nightmares were getting better. They weren’t as frequent since the whole business with Sam. Spending some time with his family down south and having a decent dose of normalcy helped. Still, they occasionally snuck up and bit him in the ass. When it happened, he was not fit for civilized company.

When the knock came at his door and he heard Steve’s even voice call his name, Bucky grimaced. It had been Steve calling. Now he felt guilty, too.

“Yeah, coming.” Standing, he straightened his sweatpants. He kicked the blankets and pillow into the corner, as he snagged a discarded tee shirt to put on. He opened the door without a greeting. Only old habits kept the surprise from his face. Steve wasn’t alone. He should have heard more than one set of footsteps. He really was distracted.

“Buck.”

“Steve.”

“You gonna invite us in or are we just going to stand in the hall?” Steve smirked.

“Oh, sorry.” Bucky stepped back, suddenly self-conscious of his barren apartment. The wood floor and high ceilings made the place appealing. However, he never could bring himself to do the normal things; to buy furniture or make it a home.

Steve bought the bed and had it delivered, even though Bucky rarely slept on it. Sam showed up with beer and the television one night. He found a little table and lamp that just needed a few screws tightened out by the dumpster. The blankets and pillow got picked up a corner store. Bucky didn’t even have the necessities by most people’s standards.

“Bucky,” Steve leaned against the wall by the door. “I want you to meet Y/N. She’s a friend of Pepper’s and does work under one of the Initiative’s grants. She found something you need to see.”

“Hi.” He shook your hand, scowling.

You got the distinct feeling this man did not like surprises. He looked so hard, so tired. The person standing before you bore no resemblance to the man described in Rebecca’s writings. “Sergeant Barnes,” You began.

“Bucky’s fine.” He frowned.

Nodding, you continued. “Over the last few years I’ve been remodeling large estates, converting them into homes for people who need a new start. A few weeks ago, I purchased a 7000 square foot Victorian estate that has been boarded up for more than twenty years. Thankfully, it’s a stone clad beauty and it stayed mostly sealed up.” You took a deep breath, seeing his growing impatience.

“I found a lot inside. Everything, actually. It’s just like the former owners left it before they died. I think it was,” You shook your head. “No, um, I know it was, your sister and her husband.”

His jaw went slack. With wide eyes he turned to Steve.

“I told you they fell off the radar in the fifties.” Steve shrugged “We found out that Becca’s husband testified against those gangsters, and they burned down the shop. After that there was nothing. No trace. Looks like they moved to Connecticut.”

“You’re serious?” Bucky breathed.

“Yeah.” You handed him the journal you brought. “I flagged a page there. It’s a few days after her wedding. She mentions you specifically. She got married on June 9, 1951.”

Bucky opened the book gently and read. After a moment, he covered his mouth with his left hand and looked up at Steve with so much emotion that you marveled that such a face could be so hard just moments before.

“Yeah.” Steve chuckled and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “There’s more. She said there’s a library of stuff. A whole house of stuff to go through.”

“I feel strange going through it all by myself, and it’s way too much to just pack up.” You interjected. “I get that we don’t know each other, but we have friends in common. People I trust, trust you.” Bucky’s head swiveled to you. You offered a warm smile. “So, I want to invite you up. Come and stay a while, go through everything. Decide what you want to take.”

Bucky looked incredulous at you, so you continued with a shrug. “I bought the house to update it and remodel it. Everything that’s in it, though, belonged to your sister. Something there might be able to give you back a little bit of your family.”

“Go, Buck.” Steve gave his pal a gentle shake. “At the very least, you might find a chair or something to put in this miserable joint.”

Bucky huffed, not quite a laugh, but his eyes brightened. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go.”

TAG LIST: Please note if you wish to be added or removed, please message me.

@acf2510 @asiaaisa77 @badassbaker @beautifullungs @buchanansebba @buckybarneshairpullingkink @daughterofthenight117 @dawnlaufeyson @dsakita @geeksareunique @imma-new-soul @josie605 @kiki5283 @lbouvet @lovely-lollipops-blog @michelehansel @night-cereus @notyourtypicalrose @rainbowkisses31 @readermia @rynabarnesrogers-reading @scarlettsoldier @sebbysstangirl @sexyvixen7 @sllooney @theneuropsychwriter @the-omni-princess @the-reading-octopus @vanillabunn21 @wildmoonflower @girlmadeofivory @buckybarnesplumwhore

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes Fic #Bucky Barnes x you

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missluckycharms · 3 years ago

Note

how was honey when she was older and kind of new with harry even though he was her dad? like since she lived with anne for so long, so like did she ever cling to anne or anything like that?

Let’s take a trip down memory lane … i teared up writing this … they’ve come so far 😭

Tw// mentions of a rehab facility and one mention of addiction.

Harry was nervous.

He was currently being driven home from ‘working over seas’ as everyone but his family was told. The rehab facility he was in was amazing, made him realise that he has more to life, and that his little lady needed him more than she needed anyone. He picked himself up and now he’s on his way home.

“Mum is excited to see you! God, she kept talking about the lasagne she cooked just for you.” Gemma rolls her eyes, driving the car as Harry chuckles listening to her, he missed his older sister when he was away, he missed his Mum and he missed Honey.

When he left, Honey was only a month old, he’s coming home now and she’s just turned ten months old. He visited her for awhile before he left, before his Mum knew he was struggling and was addicted yet again when he said he was sorting his life out, the day he was sent off to the facility, was the day Anne could finally rest knowing he was safe and okay.

Harry knew Honey is more aware now, she’ll realise that Anne has been taking care of her and she’ll be confused when Harry arrives — she may not even remember him, which has his tummy churning in nerves and wanting to cry at the thought of her not liking him.

Finally, they get back to Anne’s. Gemma helping him unpack as he’ll be living here for awhile until he’s back on his feet and Anne deems him fit to take Honey out of her care and into his for the rest of her life. It was a tough decision, but Harry knows Anne just wants what’s best for everyone, especially Honey.

As he steps in, he’s welcomed by balloons and a welcome home banner in the kitchen over the dining table that has a buffet of food on top of it. He doesn’t hear anyone else here, meaning it’s just them four in the house — he instantly relaxes, if he was bombarded with people he may have freaked out.

“Welcome home! Awh, look at you! You’re glowing!” Anne squeezes his cheeks excitedly, his skin colour now golden and healthy, his hair now groomed and his face clean shaven (he really took care of himself in the facility, worked out daily and always shaved and trimmed his hair when he could)

“Missed you so much Mum.” He smiles into her hair when she wraps her arms around his waist, pulling him in for a cuddle as she nearly cries looking at her son who’s healthy and happy once again.

“There’s some else who’s excited to see you also.” Anne says before disappearing off into the living room, her voice mumbled as she speaks to who he assumes is Honey. Gemma places a hand on his shoulder for comfort as he waits.

“Who’s that my darling?” Anne asks Honey who’s sat in her arms, Harry almost cries at how big she’s gotten, able to hold up her own head, pointing around at everyone and even laughing when Anne pokes her belly to get her to speak up.

“Papa! Papa!” she says which has Harry breaking into a sob, her smile wide and hands reaching out for her Papa as Harry nearly runs towards Anne, scooping up his baby and holding her close.

“Yes m’little love, it’s me. It’s Papa.” He sobs, Honey smiling and holding his cheeks with her chubby hands, her head leaning down to smash her lips on his forehead in what she thinks it’s a kiss.

“Mum was showing her pictures of you daily and videos, made her repeat back every time who it was.” Gemma informs him, Harry laughs though his sobs as Anne laughs too, tears streaming down her own face.

When Honey leans into Harry, resting her head on his shoulder he immediately wraps his arms around her, holding her even closer to him as if she’ll vanish any second if he let go.

“I’ll never leave you again, I promise. I’m so sorry baby, Papa loves you so much.” He quietly whispers to her, kissing her head as she just cuddles into him more.

It’s safe to say, Honey never once forgot Harry, thanks to Anne who made sure Honey knew her Papa was a good man and would come back for her, and he did, and he’s never leaving her again. He’s found his reason to live, and he’s never letting her go.

#dad!harry #harry styles #harry styles blurb

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years ago

Note

A12 and A15 with ceo!harry while he’s on a business trip - 😎

A12 - Video Sex + A15 - Mutual Maturbation

—

Harry was miserable. He didn’t mind business trips when he got to bring his little family along with him but he couldn’t this time.

Ivy had a pediatrician appointment schedule for a vaccine and check-up that they decided they didn’t want to move the date of.

It had been a six days at this point and he was homesick like a child.

Hotel rooms weren’t fun unless his daughter’s toys were splayed everywhere or his wife’s makeup bag anymore.

He’s at what feels like the millionth business dinner of the week and had gotten sick of all this eating out - missed his wife’s cooking.

YN could always tell with him, when he was getting lonely, sad, frustrated with his job and she always knew what to do to make him feel better.

Harry was upset because by the time he got back to his room, Ivy would already be asleep and he didn’t get to see her at all today.

He is washing his face in the hotel bathroom when he blindly answers his wife’s facetime request as he soaps up his face.

“Hi, m’heart,” Harry rasps, trying to avoid soap in his mouth.

When all he hears is a buzzing and a feathery moan, his eyes widen and he darts to look at his screen, a loud groan automatically leaving his mouth.

“Baby,” He scolds, wiping off his face as fast as possible to pull the phone up closer to get a better look

And….fuck how did he get so lucky?

Did he ever think the waitress he ran into so many years ago would one day be facetiming with a purple little bullet on her clit as she writhes on their martial bed?

He didn’t think he could ever be that lucky but somehow he managed.

“Miss you,” She moans quietly, hitching her hips up to met the vibrations of the small but powerful toy.

Her cunt was positively glistening with arousal and his mouth was watering as the bullet fit between her puffy folds.

“My love, wha’s brought this on?” Harry wonders, tugging off the briefs he’d just pulled on after changing into clean ones.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” She scolds between pants as she pinches at her nipple hard just like Harry would.

“Aw, sweetheart. D’it get you tha’ worked up?”

They were referring to a picture that Harry had sent earlier when he’d woken up hard and without his wife.

It was his tattooed hand, wedding ring shining, grasping his thick length through his thin underwear fabric.

“Show me,” YN orders with a needy edge, slowing down her strokes against her bud - which meant she was getting close.

“Of course, gonna show y’what’s yours, right baby?” He hisses as he wraps a tight fist around himself, positioning them phone so he’s in view.

“H, talk to me. I’m close.”

Harry chuckles, “What d’you want me to talk about? How much I love your cunt? Your folds that tuck all your best parts away and how you cry when I spread y’open with my tongue?”

Her movements are getting erratic and Harry’s become rougher on his own length.

“Or how pretty y’arse is? Watch it jiggle when I give you a good smack. Or your thighs? Just want to sink my teeth into them all the time.”

“M’cl-close,” YN tells him, nearly a whisper, as she lets go of her nipple to grip the sheets with her free hand.

“C’mon, dovie. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be comin’ on my cock, right?” He goads, grunting as he starts to feel the tighten of his release.

It’s not long before they’re both reaching their ends together and then whisper soft devotions of love and talks about their day.

YN may not give Harry a taste of his own medicine the next day when she sends him a picture first thing in the morning with her hand tucked down the front of her panties - only the slightest sight of her trimmed pubic hair is enough to have Harry getting off in the shower before his first meeting.

Yeah, he was that fucking easy for his wife.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #ceo!harry #harry styles fic rec #harry styles masterlist #ceo!harry blurb #ceo!harry masterlist

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buckyhoney-library · 4 years ago

Text

nsfw alphabet, b.b

A/N: so sorry it took so long! hope you enjoy! sebastians & nomad!steve should be out sometime this week(end)!

reblogs/likes/feedback are greatly appreciated & highly encouraged

However, do NOT repost/steal ANY of my fics on my blog!

Warnings: 18+, language, smutty thoughts, sorry for any missed typos!

chris evans nsfw alphabet

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex)

bucky takes aftercare so seriously! he makes sure that you have everything that you need and you're taken care of first. showering you in praises, holding you close, getting you water or snacks- he is at your beck and call.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part on themselves and on their partner)

thighs. thighs. thighs. He loves laying between them with his head resting on your stomach. His fingers tracing patterns on your skin- peppering kisses on the inside. bucky's arms are hooked around them while he is giving you head, rubbing small circles on the outside.

bucky has grown to love his vibranium arm, because of how much you love it. he has changed arm usage from a weapon to a useful tool in every situation. being able to cool it and playing with temperatures, pinning you down- making sure you go nowhere- or even being able to cause it to vibrate.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

he loves to paint with his cum. as much as he LOVES to cum inside you and make you hold it- there is something so pretty with his cum plastered on your back or on your tummy. "you look so pretty with my cum on your thighs," bucky is especially fond of watching it drip down your breasts or leak down your thighs. bucky just stares in awe of how it glistens against your skin.

D = Dirty Secret (What do they secretly want)

he wants you to praise him. bucky lives off of praise and when you whimper how good he's making you feel or how he's such a good boy? it throws him over the edge, encouraging him to go faster and harder. he'll never ask for them, but when you start hyping him up, fuck he enters a state of nirvana.

E = Experience (Do they know what they are doing?)

1940's bucky as we all know was very experienced but after eighty years of nothing? he needs a little help regaining his confidence, but man will he practice and have no problems asking for help. he'd be a little embarrassed of cumming early or not being able to satisfy like he used too, but bucky watches porn and experiments like no tomorrow, catching up on all the new toys/techniques/positions etc.

F = Favorite Position (Self-explanatory)

bucky's favorite position would be cowgirl or where you're laying on your side, so he could hold you. cowgirl because he gets the perfect view of your body and everything about it.

with an honorable mention of missionary- but missionary with your legs in the air spread for all can see. if he's feeling a little spicy, he'll press on your lower abdomen, adding extra pressure.

G = Goofy (Are they serious during sex or goofy

BOTH. There is a time and a place for serious, rough, passionate sex (and boy does he enjoy that), but for the most part, Bucky wants you to feel good and he wants to learn- which means there will be some mishaps and failed moments, but he loves those moments just the same.

H = Hair (Are they well-groomed?)

he is well kept and clean. bucky isn't hairless, but he does make sure that everything is trimmed up and clean.

J = Jack Off (Do they masturbate?)

bucky only does when you're away or he's gone for a mission. when you're home, he has no problem telling you he's in the mood. when he does masturbate, it is to your pictures/videos you've sent or through facetime/phone calls. he doesn't watch porn unless that is the only option or he is looking for new things to try with you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

oh boy does he have loads of kinks! bucky loves praise (receiving or giving)! during the more passionate and rough sessions, he is into degrading (but not too crazy) innocence kink. if you have met after his second sexual awakening? god, how he loves to ruin you. he loves the idea that he gets to teach you and that you're at his mercy. ice play/warming (idk what the word is) he loves when you call him sarg does this man have a filthy sarcastic mouth. dirty remarks of comments that leave his mouth- god, it's enough to you off in seconds.

L = Location (Favorite place to do it)

he is a traditional man at heart, so he loves the bedroom. bucky gets to be as loud as chooses and go as long as he wants without the fear of someone walking in or interrupting.

M = Motivation (What turns them on or gets them going?)

leggings. jeans. short shorts- anything that enhances your thighs or when you shoot back firey/witty comments matching his energy. The more traditional turn on's as well, suggestive comments, touching his chest letting it fall to his belt, lingering kisses on his lips and neck. "it's like you're begging me to fuck you silly,"

N = No (Something they will not do. Turnoffs.)

nothing with bodily fluids (other than saliva or cum) & i don't think he'd be fond of being too open in public- he's a private guy, but he doesn't mind the simple pda and light touches.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc.)

okay let me tell you- bucky loves getting head. your lips make him cum faster than anything else. "open wide, darling" he loves the ability to do it virtually anywhere (privately of course) and the quick clean up-but he mostly loves watching you take his length completely, hitting the back of your throat. "fuck, such a good girl taking all of me," hearing you moan into him and gag makes him go FERAL. bucky isn't a head pusher, but he does grip your hair.

bucky does love going down on you too. his cock throbs at the sight of your legs shaking and squirming. the sounds you make encourage him more, but he doesn't stop when you cum- he licks up every last drop of you. "im not stopping, so i'd stop moving if i were you," he'll occasionally pop his head up to make sure that he's doing everything right and you're enjoying yourself- the last thing he wants is for you to fake it (which only happened when he first re-entered the dating world)

P = Pace (Are they fast or rough? Or slow and sensual?)

there is a time and place for everything. bucky loves sensual sex because he feels the most connected to you and he has been without physical/emotional connection for so long that it's become a must. it is also where he feels the most control and the best, when he can be 100% vulnerable- something never thought he could do.

fast and rough is for those needy moments where he can't get his hands off of you- complete feral mode. when you've been teasing him relentlessly and he needs to remind you who's in charge. those nights are when the kinkiest of kinks come to play.

Q = Quickies (Their opinions on quickies rather than regular sex)

quickies are reserved for dinner parties, group outings, etc. where you look too good and he can't keep his hands off of you. "i wanna see if you taste as good as you look". quickies usually consist of fast rough sex that leaves bruises or marks. they also mainly consist of giving/receiving head.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

oh does he! he has almost ninety years of sex trends/toys/etc to catch up on. it will be the middle of the night and you'd be fast asleep only to be woken up by him shaking your arm and going "baby, we have to try this!"

bucky isn't a risk-taker in the sense of public and potentially getting caught, he is a risk-taker in the sense that he is willing to try anything once.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go? How long do they last?)

bub is a super-soldier. his stamina outlasts yours by HOURS. you'd be panting and lying sideways and bucky would be ready for the next round and you'd have to tap out. he would chuckle and hold you, teasing you about how you can't last. "can't handle this cock? i thought you said you could go all night?"

T = Toys (Do they own or use toys on themselves or partners?)

bucky has a whole drawer dedicated to the greatest quality toys. "only the best for you, dollface." he loves seeing how far he can push you with the vibrators. tying the vibrator to your clit and watching you be sent over the moon. bucky wouldn't be too crazy about using toys on himself, but he isn't opposed to being handcuffed (or pegged)

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

BIGGEST TEASE in the galaxy. Touching you, grazing your heat, kissing your neck, rubbing the inside of your thigh, (stuffing a vibrator inside you while you're on the phone), or whispering dirty things in your ear- but God forbid if you tease him back. there will be hell to pay if you try teasing him back. "you better rethink your next move, darling," "i think you forgot who's allowed to tease who."

V = Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

bucky is pretty quiet, with the exceptions of grunts and whimpers. His mouth is filthy and he dirty talks like there is no tomorrow! he is also a cocky little shit and sarcastic- which doesn't stop in the bedroom. "your cunt feel so good around me," "open your eyes, i want you to watch as i ruin you" "look at you, you're soaked for me"

W = Wildcard (Random headcanon for your character)

cockwarming. babe lives for cockwarming. early morning lazy sex, but too lazy to pull out of you. you'd be laying on your side with your leg over his, with his cock buried inside of you. "no, honey, just stay" he would mumble with his head resting in the cook of your neck, placing small kisses on your neck, but falling back asleep.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

baby, that serum did wonders. bucky is packing that seven to eighter. his cock would poke through your tummy and he won't stop talking about it for weeks.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

HIGH. VERY HIGH. he is ready whenever and wherever the time calls.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep afterward?)

bucky's stamina is so high that he probably is starving. he would perform aftercare for you, but once you'd have cared for- he is standing naked in the kitchen making a sandwich.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut

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