#writing stud

[navybrat817]

You're a Firework

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're all set to watch fireworks with the gang and Bucky can't keep his hands to himself. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, semi-public sexy times, pet names, inner monologue, established relationship, humor, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I KNOW it's Steve's birthday, but my muse demanded Stud and Smartie. ❤️ I'm so sorry, lovelies. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“You know,” Natasha began as she handed you a drink. “You and Bucky could've had your wedding today. No one would have objected.”

“With Steve's birthday right around the corner? And take away from Sam’s amazing barbeque? No way,” you smiled, stepping out of the way as Clint walked by with sparklers in each hand. You refused to take attention away from either of them. “I’m glad we’re all hanging out though.”

Today was a good day. Not only was the weather as close to perfect as it could get, not too warm or too cold, it was a chance to get together and mingle since everyone had a few days off. Between the sunshine, food, and games, the gang had a lot of fun. You imagined your wedding reception would be fun, too.

Maybe the two of you could even have sparklers to celebrate, if only to entertain Clint.

“Bucky called you his wife earlier,” the redhead commented.

“He did?” You smiled, your heart swelling.

“He did. When you beat Sam at horseshoes, he looked right at Steve and said, ‘that’s my wife' with a huge smile on his face.”

Yeah, I am. Almost.

You nearly swooned, giving your fiancé a glance as he set his chair by the fire pit. “And that’s my husband.”

Natasha lightheartedly rolled her eyes and nudged you. “Better go and join him then. The fireworks are going to start soon,” she said, heading to her seat beside Clint. The town was shooting off fireworks in the nearby park, but you all decided it was better to hang back. The yard was a great spot to view them and no one had to worry about the crowd.

“Be right there,” you said, shivering as a light breeze rolled in. Sam had the fire going, but you hadn't realized how chilly it was now that it was dark. Grabbing your blanket from your bag nearby, you also realized as you walked over to the gang that there wasn't a place for you to sit. Bucky looked your way with a gentle smile and patted his thigh before you could ask if there was an extra chair available inside. You caught a glimpse of heat in his eyes as you made your way closer.

You loved that look.

“Is that my seat?” You asked.

“This could be your seat.” Bucky pointed at his face as you bit your lip. If everyone wasn’t around, you’d consider it. “But this one might be more comfortable to watch the fireworks,” he added, patting his massive thigh again.

His face. His thigh. Both were incredible places to sit.

“Yeah, comfortable. That’s the word,” you teased, shrieking as he dragged you onto his lap once you were within reach. You were lucky you didn't spill your drink. “Easy, tiger.”

He growled and nuzzled your neck once you situated yourself and placed your drink the cup holder. “This tiger will also keep you warm,” he promised.

“Aww. You two are just the cutest,” Sam said, swigging his beer with a chuckle when Bucky huffed.

“Yeah, we are. And in case you forgot, my girl kicked your ass earlier. Beauty, brains, and brawn,” he boasted. You didn’t have to look back to see the smug smile on his face. “Proud of you.”

I will not get giddy or aroused from that praise.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll get you next time,” Sam scoffed, looking over at you with a smile to let you know it was in good fun. He was a good guy, like Steve. You hoped they each found someone who made them feel the way Bucky made you feel.

“Or she’ll kick your ass again,” Bucky said without skipping a beat.

Oh, boys. So endearing. So competitive.

“Enough of that. Sam, I’m pretty sure I got lucky and I’d love a rematch. Stud, you just concentrate on keeping me warm,” you teased, draping the blanket over both of you. His embrace was always warm. “Surprised we don't have s’mores.”

“Those are for after the fireworks,” Steve said from the other side of you.

You smiled over at him before tilting your head back to gaze at Bucky. You weren't sure if the guys did it on purpose, but they each wore the same tight fitting T-shirt in patriotic colors. They all looked handsome, but your man looked look sex on legs. The love of your life would always turn your head.

“Not for us,” Bucky said, placing a kiss on your shoulder as his hand rested possessively on your hip. “We’re going to bed.”

You giggled and snuggled back against him when the rest of the gang protested. “But what if I want a s'more?”

“I’ll personally make you one and feed it to you in bed,” he half growled.

“You’re really not going to stay up with us?” Steve asked, a knowing look on his face.

“Oh, I’m sure something will get up,” Natasha deadpanned, making everyone laugh. She wasn't wrong.

“On your birthday, we’ll stay up as late as you want. Tonight, we’re watching the fireworks and going to bed,” Bucky grumbled, brushing a finger over your engagement ring. “Unless you really want to stay out here.”

You giggled again. Bucky had to share your attention with everyone all day and was still sharing it now. He was more than ready to have you all to himself. You understood the feeling.

“I’m fine with going inside after the fireworks. We’ll check on the cats and then go to bed,” you assured him.

With everyone drinking, you all decided it was better to crash in the same place instead of going home. Neither of you wanted to leave Alpine or Soot at your place though in case any neighbors decided to shoot fireworks off the roof, so you brought them over. They had a space set up under the guest bed with some white noise to help block out some of the sound. Anything to help put them at ease.

Bucky tilted your chin a bit more to place a soft kiss on your lips, the tension crackling like the fireworks had already started. “Thank you, Smartie.”

“You’re welcome, Stud.”

As if on cue, the show began.

You looked up at the sky in awe as the first firework rushed into the air. An explosion followed by a vivid display of light, they were like rainbows in the night brightening the darkness with color. They were beauty and wonder, a form of art that faded almost as quickly as it was created. Watching with loved ones made it all the more special.

You tilted your head and smiled when you caught Bucky staring back at you. “Why aren't you looking at the sky?”

“Why aren't you?” He teased, bumping his nose against yours. “Besides, I don't need to watch the sky when I have the most beautiful view right here.”

Your cheeks warmed. So did your heart. “You flatter me so,” you whispered, looking back at the sky again.

Bangs, crackles, and thunderous sounds continued to fill the air with the gorgeous display. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You almost regretted not having your phone beside you so you could take some pictures.

Though you likely would’ve dropped it when you felt Bucky’s hand move from your hip to under your skirt.

“Stud?” You gasped, quickly looking around as his hand trailed up your thigh. No one was looking your way. They were too occupied with the fireworks.

“Just keep looking at the sky, Smartie,” he said against your ear, your legs opening more as his hand found its prize. “And I'll keep touching you.”

Oh, fuck.

You shivered in his grasp despite the blanket and his body providing more than enough heat. His touch was possessive yet tender and you could feel your body turn to jelly as he rubbed you through your panties. You tried to concentrate on the colors above you, the material damp from his expert touch. And you couldn't stop your heart from pounding in your ears, adding the explosive noises around you.

More fireworks went off, but you blocked out the “oohs” of your friends as he pushed the wet fabric aside. “Bucky,” you whimpered, biting your tongue when he traced a finger along your slick pussy.

“I’ve wanted to touch you all day,” he whispered against your neck, teasing your folds. Your hole clenched before the fingertip even touched it. “I can't believe you’re mine. Keep asking myself how I got so lucky.”

I’m the lucky one.

His finger breached you, making you gasp and grip his arm. His palm pressed against your clit and you couldn’t help but push your hips down, seeking out more friction. You wanted to take care of him, too. Maybe when the two of you went to bed…

Another finger slipped in, curling and thrusting quickly. If you were at home, he’d take more time in taking you apart. He wouldn't stop until you soaked the sheets and even then he might keep going. And he'd make sure you were a quivering mess, mewling and begging for mercy or reprieve.

“Have I told you today how much I love you, babydoll?” He asked, static pleasure coursing through your body as you climbed higher.

Orgasms were a lot like fireworks. Some tumbled slowly in the sky, like a slow fire that coursed through your veins. Others exploded, so large and powerful that you couldn’t keep the sounds of awe in. Then there were small bursts, the ones that got the job done and still felt good.

You wondered what kind of orgasm Bucky would give you tonight.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, colors dancing behind your eyes as you shut them.

You wanted to shout how much you loved Bucky Barnes. You wanted your love for him to burst through the sky like a shooting star. But you didn’t need to put on a show for him to know you were his. He knew you belonged to him.

But you’d still have to try and keep quiet as you clenched around his fingers.

“Please,” you whispered, ready to fall over the edge as his palm rubbed your clit again.

Your head turned and his mouth slanted against yours to swallow down your moan. “Open your eyes,” he whispered, his fingers curling once more as you listened to his command and watched the colors light up his blue eyes. “And come for me.”

Your walls pulsed as the finale began, your cry drowned out by the rapid booms. Your wetness coated his fingers, every nerve cell vibrating as brilliant hues illuminated the sky. The hues swirled in your dizzying head, too. You were flying. Sinking. Floating.

You were a firework.

“Beautiful,” Bucky whispered, guiding you back to him.

Your body stayed lax against his, wishing he didn't have to take his fingers out. “You’re beautiful,” you exhaled, watching him subtly bring his hand to his mouth to taste your release. “Menace,” you added.

This man. I really just let him finger bang me with everyone sitting around.

“Yeah, I am,” he smiled, placing another kiss on your lips as Steve and Sam got up. Natasha and Clint were already up, too, to get more drinks.

If anyone knew what happened, they didn't draw any attention to it.

“Those were even better than last year,” Sam said.

“They were. And now we can have s'mores,” the blonde smiled, stopping to look at his best friend. “I thought you two were going to bed.”

“In a minute,” Bucky said, shifting his hips under yours to let you feel how hard he was. Getting you off turned him on. “Think I need to relax a bit more.”

Yeah, so no one sees you walking around with a raging hard-on.

You wiggled your hips, smiling when your fiancé quietly groaned. “Yeah. Relax,” you sighed, feeling him squeeze your thigh in a warning.

Well, he wanted your attention before and now he had it.

And I’ll make him see fireworks before the night is over, too.

Stud and Smartie need to talk to my muse and make sure Steve has a good birthday. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[malk1ns]

january 9 vs oilers, 5-3 win

i started writing this before the game even started because i found geno getting put through his paces inspirational.

Sid isn’t supposed to be here, but it didn’t take a lot of sweet-talking for the training staff to let him down the tunnel towards the ice. He had to look Kevin in the eyes and promise that he wouldn’t so much as step out onto the bench, but the practice facility has been abuzz for days over Malkin’s arrival, and Sid, arguably the person most impacted by his presence in Pittsburgh, hasn’t even gotten to see him from a distance, let alone smell him.

Not that it really matters. Their pheromone profiles are a near-perfect match, Sid’s gone over the files himself. Malkin’s a little older than the organization might have preferred to stud their prized omega, but he’s got a resume and a pedigree, a track record of producing talented offspring, and when he was made available internationally the Penguins jumped to offer an enormous compensation package to bring him to Pittsburgh. If Sid ends up having some objection to Malkin’s scent, he’s going to have to get over it.

Watching Malkin on the ice, though, Sid doesn’t think it’ll be a problem.

He creeps a little further down the tunnel, still hanging back from the bench so as to not get in trouble for getting too close, but he can’t resist improving his view.

The coaches are watching Malkin run through a set of conditioning drills, and Sid knows that up above him most of management is watching from the balconies. He spotted the dynamics team heading that way with binders and clipboards earlier.

Malkin’s not the fastest guy from what Sid can see; when he was younger, closer to the age Sid is now, he had a bit more footspeed, but it’s evident from the drills he’s lost a step there. His edgework is insane, though, and the way he handles the puck has Sid craning his neck to try and get a better look. 

They’ve got Chiasson in goal, and when Malkin dekes him out of his net and slips the puck behind him like it’s nothing, Sid has to hold back a cheer.

He must make some noise though, or maybe he’s drifted too close to the ice, because Malkin’s head snaps up. 

Sid shrinks back down the tunnel before anyone can catch him, heart pounding as he escapes back towards the locker room. Malkin’s probably going to be done with drills soon anyway.

The trainers pull him into an exam room to poke at his wrist, and then Dr. Vyas wants to see him for a blood draw to assess his hormone levels, and by the time Sid finally escapes he’s starving, so he ducks into the lounge to poke around for leftovers before going home.

He’s bent over rummaging through the refrigerator when the smell of pine fills the room.

Sid’s nostrils flare as he stands up and shuts the fridge. The smell is strong, almost enough to sting his nose, but it’s good, like the forest around his lake back home. Nobody on the team smells like that.

Malkin is standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Shit,” Sid says, looking around the empty room. The staff probably figured he was long gone; if they knew he was still in the building, Malkin wouldn’t be anywhere without a chaperone. 

“Hi,” Malkin says, stepping into the lounge. His voice is deep and raspy, like he’s tired. Sid wonders if he’s still jetlagged; from what he’s heard, they practically had to smuggle him out of Russia even with the transfer agreement to bring him here in place. “Not think you’re still here, sorry.” His English is better than Sid expected, which is maybe unfair; plenty of North American guys are playing in the K these days, and Malkin’s been captain of his team for almost two decades.

“It’s alright,” Sid says. As Malkin gets closer, the hair on the back of his neck stands up. “Uh…I probably should go, I don’t think they want us alone yet.”

“Hmm,” Malkin says, closing the final distance between them as Sid backs into the counter along the wall. “Too late, yes? We here now, alone.”

He’s so much taller than Sid, who stands frozen as Malkin bends down. Up close, the smell is almost overwhelming, and Sid’s eyelids flutter as Malkin inhales next to his neck.

“Sweet,” Malkin mutters, and Sid’s face goes hot. He’s heard it before, that he smells like cake, like sugar; it’s been too much for some of his teammates before, and none of them usually get this close to him when he’s not wearing a blocker like he does during games and practices.

“Sorry,” Sid says inanely, and Malkin lets out an amused huff, reaching out and cupping his hand over the side of Sid’s neck.

Sid nearly swoons at the unexpected contact. Malkin’s hand is huge and warm, and when their skin touches the pine-scent spikes, soporific and enticing.

“Sweet is good,” he croons, running his thumb under Sid’s chin, skirting over the scent glands there and making Sid moan embarrassingly at the sensation. “Smell like you’re taste good too.”

Sid’s never been touched like this. He’s hooked up plenty, but only with betas or other omegas. Even though he’s done his share of looking at alphas in bars, the language in his contract is clear, and Sid wasn’t about to risk a breach for a night of fun. And only alphas have this sort of effect on omegas.

“You like?” Malkin asks, like the answer isn’t obvious by the way Sid’s scent is rising and his body is instinctively going pliant and soft. “Yes, good, it’s good you like. We have nice time, I think.”

The way he’s playing with Sid’s scent glands is making Sid slick up. He can feel it, and he’s sure Malkin can smell it. Sid didn’t read more than the first page of Malkin’s stud file, but maybe he should have; Malkin is experienced, and Sid is totally out of his depth.

“Lyubimyy,” Malkin practically purrs, bringing his other hand to Sid’s waist. “So sweet for me, I can tell. Sweet boy. You’re not do before, I know this—don’t worry, I take good care of you.”

When he steps back, Sid sways towards him before he can help himself, making a bereft little sound. Malkin laughs, but it’s not mean—he sounds delighted, like Sid did something to please him.

Sid badly, badly wants to please him.

“I do too much,” Malkin says, regret coloring his voice. Sid wants to shake his head in denial, but he’s so stuck under the scent and the lingering effect of Malkin’s hands on him that he can’t do much more than stare up at Malkin with wide eyes. 

“Sorry, sweet boy, I’m not mean to push. You’re just smell so nice, can’t help it.” Malkin takes a pointed inhale, and Sid watches as his eyes go dark. “I go now. You go clean up, go home—we see each other soon.”

Sid watches him leave. It’s only when he’s further down the hallway and his scent starts to recede that Sid feels like he can move again.

He jerks off in the bathroom, biting his fist to keep from making too much noise. When he closes his eyes, he can feel Malkin’s fingers on his throat, a phantom touch that pushes him over the edge faster than since he was a teenager.

The drive home is a daze. Sid’s not sure how he’s going to make it through their games this weekend, now that he knows what’s waiting for him on the other side.

[stellewriites]

butch!141 moodboards? 👀

butch!141 moodboards 🙂‍↕️ - links to each fic attached

simon price

gaz johnny

inspired a little bit by the fic ideas i’ve got planned for them and their characters overall,, i have a reason (though some are admittedly Dumb) for every item on these moodboards so PLEASE yap away with me about them

[ariadnew]

CANTO.

Canto isn't known for his winning personality. If we were going to attempt to be positive about it- and insufferably poetic- we might suggest he is known for his light, floating grace in motion, his scopey form over fences, and his gloriously grey, mists-and-rain, clouded-celestial ether colouring.

But what he has really become known for around Lowmax (rapidly, infamously) is his casual but resolute determination to murder Archie. In rather sudden and spectacular fashion, apparently.

There is no pool amongst Lowmax staff concerning the event: they have stopped seeing it as matter of if, but as when, and Archie is too well-liked (or at least, respected) for most to consider profiting from his misfortune. That, and there's always the chance they'll be asked to exercise him in his stead, and nobody's willing to tempt the forces of fate or justice (or irony) like that.

(... Nobody except Archie, that is, who continues to climb on board in the name of professionalism and laugh good humouredly when asked if he'd like to hear his last rites before he begins)

As far as secondary pursuits go, Canto is engaged in an unofficial but very specific game of bingo: each time he chomps, stomps, or otherwise inflicts surface damage upon a staff member, he can cross off a space. At this stage, he needs only Agatha or Yury for bingo, but experts are sceptical. Not on account of his aptitude: on account of the fact Yury has no business being anywhere near him, and Agatha has made it her business to not be anywhere near him.

(Agatha is shrewd like that)

Aside from murder, Canto likes romantic candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach at sunset, except not really; he's a horse (although he probably wouldn't object to dinner, less the candles) In truth, nobody's really sure what puts the wind up his proverbial skirt, so indifferent he seems to life. Jumping, we suppose, though does he enjoy it quite as much as the acrobatics he occasionally performs between fences? Impossible to say. There's his bingo game, obviously. The spot at the end of his paddock beneath the beech tree, perfect parts sun and shade. Handfuls of sweet oats. Uninterrupted snoozes. Choosing violence. Watermelon. Maybe those things. Maybe.

Anyway!

Archie & Canto will be competing together for the handful of years he's legally locked himself into on paper with the Wentwood people, their goal being to see their stallion progress from 1.40 courses to being successful at top level before retiring as a stud prospect. This is the official answer, at least. If you'd ever met the Wentwood syndicate partners, you'd understand what they really mean. We want you to make this horse make us as much money as possible. That's what they mean. They'd never say it, of course. Just like you'd never say it. But you know. And they know that you know. And you know that they know that you know.

Good luck with not dying, Archie!

[afraidofchange]

Anyway im drunk enough to say that i think it's very telling how people are so unwilling to write gender non conforming characters. like, i think i can count the amount of butch/stud/masc lesbians written by others who aren't me, on one hand in the 13 years I've been rping on tumblr. like , y'all know it's ok to expand horizons and write lesbians right? like. damn.

[fyeahnix]

If you wanted to know how much of a fucking lesbian I am, I just wrote an entire practice fic gushing over a butch's biceps.

I am not immune to propaganda.

[sweetshrew]

being mutuals with fellow poc folks (especially black people in my case) feels so affirming for me. after years of being conditioned to see white people on the screens and hear their stories in the books i read for 95% of the time, i’ve come to expect a white person behind every acc unless something tells me otherwise, the same way one might expect someone to be straight unless otherwise contradicted.

it feels so harmful when it comes to appreciating my blackness, particularly through an nsfw acc, because my brain inadvertently assumes the love for women on here is mainly targeted towards those are white, even when there’s nothing that specifically points to them.

anyways, i’m getting over that, but it’s nice to not have to be the one to remind myself all the time, so i just wanna say i love seeing yall poc folks on here. and i WILL be seeking you out. 🫵🏾❤️

[myevilmouse]

I think we've all waited long enough, right? Time to fic kiddos!

[cherrypiehoneymoon]

He never liked when my midriff was showing in public. We'd get ready to go out, moving around our little apartment for my hair products and your socks. When we'd meet at the front door, he would suggest I change my shirt.

I didn't think much of it back then. In fact, I never felt a negative feeling. It made me happy when he wouldn't want others ogling me while we drifted up and down the grocery store aisles. Seeing a jealous side of him filled me with desire while it filled him with lust. It made me want to kiss him.

It became an unspoken rule. He didn't like when I'd dress provocatively out in public. I respected him by obeying.

Once we parted ways and he chose to exit my life, I stared into the abyss that felt like my closet. My skin didn't feel right under my clothes, and I was bored with almost every item inside.

With a pair of scissors, I began snipping away at shirts. I tore the thread to discard of the bottom halves. I created half shirt after half shirt, ordering more online until I was drowning in tops that could fit a toddler.

I stared at myself in the steamy mirror of the bathroom, at this new version of me that wears what I want, when I want. My self-expression exudes from what I choose to wear. He kept our relationship in the soft bubble of our apartment, our sexualities right along with it. I refuse to hide who I am or what I express.

From that day on, I promised myself I will never go back to being someone I'm not for the sake of someone else.

[navybrat817]

Alpine have seen unspeakable things

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMkAu7W81/

Bahaha. Poor Alpine. She certainly has.

Corrupted Cuddles

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You want to cuddle with Bucky and Alpine tells you exactly where you should sit.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff, pet names, teasing, humor, sugary sweetness, inner monologue, established relationship, referenced smut, Alpine has seen some things, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: The TikTok video was too funny and right up Stud and Smartie's alley. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Today was a day for cuddling since it was cold outside. You had no reason to venture out into the world and leave the comfort of your apartment, unless you wanted to use it as an excuse for Bucky to warm you up once you got inside. But you didn’t need the excuse. If you told him you were cold, he’d warm you up right away. He may call you out on the fact that you feel perfectly fine, but he’d still keep you close before he loves having excuses to cuddle with you, too.

“Okay, Stud,” you called out, wiping your hands as you finished up the last chore on your checklist. “Get ready for some cuddles.”

He chuckled from the living room. “Why do you say that like it’s a warning?”

“Because it is a warning,” you smiled, grabbing drinks for each of you, too. “You are going to cuddle with me, and you are going to love it.”

“I have abso-fucking-lutely not doubt I’ll love it, but there’s just one problem with your plan,” he said.

You paused before you went into the living room, an eyebrow raised as you took in the sight of Bucky laying on the couch. He looked comfortable, and your beautiful harlot of a man had no shirt on because why would he? You had to blink a few times to focus. “And what exactly would that problem be so we can come up with a solution?”

Cuddling was going to happen. Couch, floor, bed, it didn’t matter. And he knew when you had your heart set on something, that was that.

He nodded to the ball of white fur between his thick legs. “Alpine demanded cuddles first, and I don’t know if she’ll move if I ask,” he teased.

You smiled as Alpine lifted her head to look at you. Bucky could easily get her to move. “Maybe I could try asking?” you suggested.

“Be my guest,” he smiled.

“Hey, Al,” you smiled, reaching down to scratch behind her ear. You really did adore her. “I don’t want to interrupt, but is there room for me to get some cuddles, too? Please?”

If she didn’t move, you’d wait your turn. She was Bucky’s girl first, and you were lucky she accepted you as quickly as she had. You also knew Alpine loved you just as much as she loved Bucky. You liked to believe in her eyes that you two were her mom and dad.

With a gentle meow, she stood up stretched, but didn’t move from her spot.

“So, is that a no on the cuddles?” you asked as Bucky tried not to laugh. He was enjoying the little show. “Well, if I can’t sit in your spot, where should I sit?”

Alpine stared at you with knowing eyes before she turned her attention to Bucky and gently placed a paw on his crotch.

There was dead silence in the apartment. Surely she didn’t… “I’m sorry, I should sit where?”

Alpine put her paw there again as your mouth fell open. Bucky, on the other hand, smirked, his blue eyes sweeping over you. “You’re right, Al. Smartie should sit right there,” he said, nodding to his crotch. “Well, she gave you her answer. Take a seat.”

“What the… What? Did you teach her that?!” you asked. Bucky just laughed more, his shoulders shaking. “You did, didn’t you? And if you didn’t, we clearly corrupted her!”

You thought Bucky was going to stop breathing for a moment. “Yes… our… poor pussy got corrupted,” he joked. You felt like you set yourself up for that. “And I won’t confirm or deny. She’s just a very observant cat.”

Waving a hand at him, you were having a hard time not laughing, too. “Okay, you are no help,” you said, looking at Alpine again. She was observant. “Al, where does Stud like to sit?”

Leaping off the couch, she made her way over to Bucky’s chair where he usually sat to read. God, she really was smart. She could take over the world one day.

“Okay, now where does Smartie like to sit?”

“Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?” Bucky asked.

“Shh. You are once again not helping,” you replied. And Alpine once again didn’t hesitate to go back to Bucky and put her paw right in his lap. God, she knew. Would the gang believe you if you told them what was happening? Probably. They wouldn’t be surprised either. “Okay, where else do I like to sit?”

“I don’t think-”

You about fainted when the cat moved up and firmly put a paw against Bucky’s lips.

Can I get to hell for corrupting a cat? Wait. No. This isn’t my fault. I will not burn for this.

“Okay, so…” you huffed when Bucky grabbed his left pec, his laughter ringing out again. You swore you saw Steve laugh like that recently. “She knows I like to…”

“Sit on my cock and on my face? Clearly,” Bucky smiled, nudging the cat to move and reaching for your hand. “But I thought that was just common knowledge after we got together.”

Your cheeks got hot. Yeah, you and Bucky went at it like bunnies some days. And yeah, Alpine had certainly waltzed around the rooms at various times when your man had you bouncing on his cock or taking a seat on his face. It just happened.

“Yeah, well, that’s because…” Bucky leaned his head back and licked his lips as he waited for you to continue. “Not to stroke your ego, but you have an amazing cock and mouth, and you’re the one who always wants me to sit on them!”

Bucky was so good to you that he didn’t care about the times you hadn’t perfectly groomed yourself. He wanted you, and that was that. It was a good feeling.

“Yeah, I want you to sit on them. And please, continue stroking my ego,” he encouraged, pulling you into his lap. “And when you’re done you can stroke my-”

You clamped a hand over his mouth. “Alpine has already been corrupted enough,” you said, removing your hand and trying not to moan when he settled you over his bulge.

“Pretty sure she was corrupted before we slept together,” he told you. “I jerked off one night and said your name and I’m pretty sure she slept by your door the next day to make sure I behaved.”

“You jerked off to the thought of me? That’s so sweet,” you smiled. And hot. Having a gorgeous man like him stroking himself, saying your name…

“You know I have and ‘sweet’ isn’t the word that comes to mind. Now will you please take a proper seat on my lap,” he asked, pulling you in for a kiss.

Before his lips touched yours, you looked over your shoulder. “Al, do you…” The cat was nowhere to be found. “Where did she go?”

“I think she’s giving us some alone time.”

“Well, all I wanted to do was cuddle,” you teased.

He groaned and kissed a trail to your neck. “Why don’t we cuddlefuck instead?”

You smiled before you repeated his words in your mind. “…Cuddlefuck?”

Al knows what's up. Poor Al. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[malk1ns]

took this at practice yesterday. geno spent a lot of time down on one knee. would like to use this for inspo for something but not sure what yet…if you have ideas please send them in!!!

[macbxth-pdf]

The urge to write butchfemme smut of a witch who made a deal with a demon in exchange for magical knowledge, power and immortality. But, the witch has no plans of paying her debts and successfully avoided the demon for decades. Now in 202X, the witch is more powerful than ever and has successfully opened up her own business where she crafts spells and reads the future of her clients. Her next client? The demon, here to collect what they're owed.

I just haven't written jackshit in a while and I would feel like everything I write is ass. Plus that means either making a separate blog for NS/FT or posting it on AO3

NONSAPPHICS & MINORS DNI

[ariadnew]

The Lowmax property has a long history. Locals can at least agree on that.

The details, however, are sketchy.

It's hard to discern exactly where the stories come from. To separate straight facts from the fanciful, from the embellished, from conjecture. Historians in the area do tend to concede that the most prevalent stories each possess a measure of veracity, though they do so with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Bootlegger Maximillian 'Low Max' O'Leary, for example, did indeed exist and was known to have passed through the area in the Prohibition Era. Whether he was the seasonal inhabitant of Pemberton as claimed or threw lavish, star-studded parties in his hill-top hideaway, however, is still the subject of debate (some assert he inspired F. Scott Fitzgerald; others have it the other way around.) Captain Nathaniel Stanley Maxton, too, exists in the historical record, but the story of his defection toward the end of the American Revolutionary War in favour of running away with an American girl (romantic? or stupid?) (hotly debated) remains entirely unsubstantiated. There is no proof he settled the wild valley plain several miles north-east of Heartbreak Lake and dubbed it 'Low Maxton'; no proof he adopted a new identity and lived quietly with his love on this beautiful, isolated land, farming to eek out a living. On the other hand, Ludlow and Maxwell, enterprising orchardists of the early to mid 20th century, unquestionably worked the property. Apples, predominantly, with a small venture into pears and plums. So it is on paper, at least. Off-paper sources suggest Ludlow & Maxwell had their fingers in other more lucrative (and significantly less legal) pies- and that's not to say they began dabbling in cherries. Reportedly absconding suddenly and hastily at the tail end of the thirties, the facts and theories concerning the duo's moral characters, the truth behind their abrupt departure, and their subsequent total absence from the historical record are yet another set of murky waters for local history buffs to debate- with fiendish pleasure, generally, over coffee and cake at their monthly meeting (the first Thursday of every month, in the upstairs room of the Pemberton Public Library; new members welcome!)

A handful of Pemberton inhabitants bemoan the property went to the notoriously-private Foskett family rather than a preservation foundation, or a benefactor who'd see it restored and open to the public, but in truth, there's little of historical merit to see anymore: precious few of the original- original original- structures remain. The pillar at the end of the drive, however, is one of them. The bronze plaque near the bottom is scuffed and weathered; the rampant growth of wild grasses and meadow flowers at foot sees to making sure it goes unnoticed by most. Nevertheless, it quietly continues to declare the age of the property. Lowmax: pre-dating the airplane, the American Civil War, the telephone, the telegraph, electric light. Age after age, two centuries and then some, keeping staunch watch over the horses and humans dwelling in the valley alongside the mountains and forests that stood long before it, and will stand long after it-

A looming reminder that the story playing out there now is just another chapter, waiting to be lost to history.

[jils-things]

gently sobs to myself...

andrea campbell 🥺🥺🥺 (nickname andie?)

i didnt want to color her fully yet because im not sure what should be her dress palette be... but i had to color her face at least cuz i want yall to know how much of her mama and papa genes are distributed ueueu 🥺

[29625]

Me: I need to write so that I can depict the magnificent beauty of Slider and how Maverick grows as a person in the course of their mutual love and affection and indulgence

Also my WIP:

[transterry]

DQB2ber Week 1 - Sports / Inktober Day 03 - Ace Spiker Malroth

I more used his working design than his final design, since it was closer to the hairstyle I was going for (read: I wasn’t sure how to draw his “horns” with the headband since they’re just too short to go into a high ponytail)