#Clean Motorcycle Chain

[goodoldbandit]

How to Properly Clean and Lubricate Your Chain.

Good Old Bandit Good Old Bandit. gob.stayingalive.in Discover an engaging guide on cleaning and lubricating your chain for smooth rides and lasting performance. Unlock the secrets to a smooth, long-lasting chain that powers your ride with confidence. Maintaining your chain is key to an enjoyable and safe ride. A clean, well-lubricated chain makes a huge difference in performance and…

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Route 666

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC

Summary: it’s the year 1984 and Star goes to a roadside bar off of Devil’s Highway that a friend of hers invited her to. What Star doesn’t know is that someone is waiting for her beyond the velvet drapes.

Warnings: SMUT. Lots of pussy licking. 18+ CONTENT. Mentions of blood.

Part two.

Stack.

This brother has an aura Star craved. Mysterious and very charismatic. They sort of glided through the throng of dancers as if walking on water. Stack stroked Star’s hand with his thumb soothingly. The sensation calmed her nerves and unsteady breathing.

Star didn’t know if it was the liquor that had her feeling dazed or if she was under his hypnosis, but she let him take her hand while she followed through the door of Vaisseau. After grabbing her things from coat check, they were outside now, the evening air sweeping her hair every which way.

Stack’s footsteps stopped in front of a motorcycle with a seat embroidered with sparkling rhinestones or…diamonds? And an iron cross emblem. He released her hand briefly to swing onto his bike. Stack reached out a hand for Star to climb up. He revved the bike to life with his other. Star made sure to take her time as she threw her thick thigh up and over until her crotch—panties non existent, fish nets creating a sensation over her clit—onto the raised portion of the seat.

Her arms circled Stack’s waist and she interlocked her fingers tightly together. Star pressed her right cheek against the leather material of his vest. Tough, rebellious, or even primal. Durable and strong. The pearl snap earrings over her earlobes revealed themselves as her hair moved in the direction of the wind. The sweat against the sepia flesh of her back dried, leaving behind a sticky surface. The scent of Christian Dior Hypnotic Poison with its sensual and captivating vanilla lingered against every inch of her skin, exuding a brazen, conquering spirit.

The deafening roar of his motorcycle outside of Vaisseau made him appear like a feral beast waiting to break free of his chains and start racing. There was nothing more exciting than riding on the back of his motorcycle to the limit and feeling at one with the machine. It was agile, moving onto the highway with ease. The wind burned her eyes, so she shut them, resting her chin against his back. The dewy fragrance of the air tickled her nose.

Going to a motel was the same as choosing junk food or casual sex, you realised it was gonna be seriously underwhelming but it was cheap and available. It felt different with Stack. Nothing about him screamed underwhelming. More like exhilarating. They arrived outside of a motel lit with a greenish hue. It was two levels and eerily quiet.

Stack pulled into a spot with big numbers painted in red against the concrete. 109.

He got off first, helping Star down and grabbing a hold of her hand again. He pocketed his motorcycle keys before digging for the ones to open his motel door. Star glanced around. She spotted an older gentleman, probably of Hispanic descent, smoking a cigarette against a truck. Soft music from a radio to her left and the sound of a soap opera through an opened window to her right.

The room was clean, the bedding was fresh, for a motel around here that's actually pretty good. Stack flicked on a light, bathing the room in a low, warm glow. He tossed his moto vest against a nearby arm chair and his room keys on a side table next to an alarm clock that read: 1:52 am. Stack made sure to shut the curtains and close the blinds up nice and tight. Star eyed the peeling wallpaper, the single king sized bed, and a mirror situated on a wall behind the bed.

Star sat her cheetah printed hand bag on the other end table before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes flicked around nervously, watching Stack take off his boots. The leather pants he wore sat lower on his hips, revealing a sharp v–cut and a happy trail. Star unzipped her boots and pulled them off, flexing her toes.

He stood firm in front of her, Star looking up at him through her lashes. Stack extended a hand agonizingly slow, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Star exhaled a shaky breath.

“Do you trust me?”

Star wanted to say she barely knew him, but for some reason, she felt so safe with him.

“I trust you. Unless you give me a reason why I shouldn’t.”

Stack smiled as the golden ambience of the motel room surrounded him. The sound of the TV with its static and lack of frequency didn’t stop the sound of Star’s heavy breaths and loud pulse reverberating her ear drums. Stack tugged, bringing Star to her feet. He took slow steps backward, turning her so she could see herself in the mirror.

“You’re so beautiful. Skin so soft. Curves just right.”

Star smiled bashfully.

“What if I told ya’ I wanna make ya’ minds forever?”

Star circled her tongue against the inside of her cheek to fight the urge to smile.

“I’d say I’ve heard it all before. What makes you any different, huh?”

“I’m definitely nothin’ like the men before me. Believe ‘dat. You’ll know soon enough.”

Star traced circles against his hand that pressed against her middle, “Mhm…well, I’m here now…”

Star reached up to stroke the back of his head.

“…Ya’ like to be bitten?”

Star pondered, “Uh…never have before…depends on how hard you trying to bite me.”

“How about spanked?”

Star grinned, “Oh, yeah. I love that type of shit.”

“Mm…aight…how ‘bout spit? Like that?”

Star could feel Stack’s dick jump against her backside.

“Love it. You should know…”

A knowing smile deepened his dimples, “That’s right…how could I forget, my apologies, gorgeous.”

Stack lightly nibbled on Star’s neck, causing her to giggle.

“You have a mouth to break up a home over,” Star said with a laugh.

“I got sum’ else too…”

“I know,” Star licked her lips, “You’re blessed.”

Stack circled his hips against her ass.

“You get so excited…I like it,” Star spoke with a whimper.

Stack turned Star around with a growl. He pressed his body on Star’s so she couldn’t escape him. His skillful hands slicked up her arms and gripped her tight. Not too much pressure, but enough to show her who’s boss. Star’s mind didn’t have to wonder what kind of freakiness went down with Stack. The mere thought made her clit throb in anticipation of it all.

Stack leaned in closer to her before Star let him take her into a passionate kiss with his soft, probing tongue.

His warm, wet tongue curled around hers expertly, stealing her breath and even her soul. The kiss wasn’t like any kiss she’d ever gotten. It was much more than a quick peck or a rushed one. He took his time. Learned the taste of tequila on her tongue. The way her soft, glossy brown lips moved around his. The sounds she made. Their heads rocked from side to side, Star falling deeper into the kiss.

Her entire body screamed for this man. He didn’t care how many dicks been in her mouth. How many pussies she licked He didn’t care that she made money off of sex with men and women alike. He didn’t care about the stigma of being with a porn star. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Big bulge and all. Star missed this. The anticipation of being with a man that had what Stack had.

Star dragged her hand down to cup his erection. Stack brought one heavy hand down over her ass with a sharp whack before grabbing a handful. He tilted his head without even being told so and Star took that as he liked his ear licked and nibbled on. She did just that. Meanwhile, Stack’s eyes glowed and his mouth began to drool. He sucked in his bottom lip to capture it all before it landed on Star’s shoulder.

Star moved her kisses to his exposed neck. A ghostly hiss whizzed around her. She palmed his dick tighter, nails digging into the leather of his pants. His deep groans sounded monstrous in a way. That left an impression on Star. This was a primal man indeed. And she made him weak. He’s definitely her biggest fan.

“You taste so good,” Stack whispered against her lips.

It was his turn now. Both of his hands were in her hair before he gently moved her head to the side so he could kiss her neck. Star closed her eyes, feeling him sucking her hungrily. As if he had performed magic, they seemed to glide across the carpet to the arm chair. Stack held an arm against her lower back to stop her from falling. His mouth left her neck, leaving behind an ache. He sat down and spread his thighs deliciously while his arms rested on the chair.

“Autograph,” Star heaved with a laugh, “Where do you want it?”

Stack, eyes dragging over her, went to undo his pants.

Star dropped her lustful gaze to his fingers working to reveal what she’d been dying to see since he pressed it between her ass like a hotdog to a bun.

He thumbed the leather past his thighs, revealing tight, coarse pubic hair and then that thing popped out like a snake in the grass. What white people called a Mandingo with its racial slur that Star despised in porn, she just saw a beautiful black man with a big joystick she’d love to play with. This wasn’t fetish. This was art. Black beauty. And she felt right at home.

An all American whopper. Eight–inch’s of fun. All the dick she could handle. Extra-long shaft that naturally flexes to fit inner curves for deeper penetration. Great for the G-Spot or prostate. Perfectly-shaped tip, textured skin with veins, and a weighty pair of balls.

Star dropped to her knees a little too hard.

She tugged on his pants, removing them completely.

Stack grabbed a remote that was wedged between the cushion of the chair and pressed a button as he aimed it towards the TV.

Loud moans and erotic music played. Star turned her head to see what was happening. Visuals of herself giving a solo performance was right before her. Goosebumps covered both of her arms. She was splayed out on a leather chair with her legs draped over the arms while her left fingers circled her clit beyond a patch of hair. She could even see her own natural lubrication dripping like honey from a glass.

“Stack…”

“I take ya’ everywhere with me. I’ve spent so many days dreaming of what it would feel like to have ya’ all to myself…”

Star faced him again, staring up at him from her kneeled position between his legs. Star’s eyes burned with passion when she spotted drool like no other spilling over his bottom lip. This man was so hungry for her. To the point that he was visibly salivating? Without even tasting her everywhere yet?

Stack whispered sweetly, “I’m the unspoken passion women secretly desire. You wonder about the mystery behind my eyes, don’t you?”

Did he just read her mind?

“Yes,” Star whispered back.

Stack didn’t make a move to wipe his chin.

“I’m sex, uptight and poised. The lover you dream of…”

Star shuddered underneath his gaze. Enthralled by every word that came from his thick lips. Every inch of her skin crawled as she moved her hands all over his body. Smooth, unblemished, dark skin looked as if it had been kissed by the ideal amount of sun provided by the Mississippi Delta. His chiseled chest, ripped abs, and defined, burly arms had her mouth watering lustfully.

“Stack…”

“Yes?”

“I want to suck your dick.” Star stated with assertiveness, feeling her inner thighs and stockings beginning to soak.

Stack placed his index finger over her lips, “Shhh…not another word…”

For some reason, she couldn’t utter another word. It was like he had taken her voice from her. She couldn’t make sense of the way she was feeling as her breathing intensified. Her clit throbbed harder, causing her to rock back and forth.

Removing the halter to her dress, Star allowed it to pool around her waist, revealing pendulous breasts and thick, brown nipples. Her skin was painted with sweat, no circulating air in that motel room. Star quivered as she took him into her hand again, weighing the heaviness in her palm.

“Suck it. Take what you want, baby.”

Star reached for him but Stack snatched his dick back.

“Suck it all the way down too, understand?”

Star did just that.

She kissed the tip. Made love to it with her glossy brown lips, moans equaling those from the TV. She let go of his shaft, no need to keep it in place. It was hard enough to stand straight up like a stick in the mud. Star gathered saliva on her tongue and slathered it all over Stack’s ample package, slurping afterwards to savor his taste. Stack watched her, eyes following the movement of her tongue and closing briefly whenever she let her lips have a moment.

“Can’t believe you suckin’ on my dick, Star…”

The tremble in his voice. She gave his balls some love too, staring up at him beyond that girth like she was peaking around a corner. Stack’s mouth dropped open, teasing her with some tongue.

Star popped her lips off his sack and suctioned her lips along the underside of his dick until her lips were flesh around his tip. She slithered her mouth down with a tight jaw until he was seated at the back of her throat. That delicious curve molded perfectly with her mouth. Star began sucking. Stack smoothed her hair out of the way and held it back so he could watch her better.

“Gahdamn…this how you do it?”

Star hummed.

“You a motherfuckin’ pro. No wonder I love you so much.”

Star blinked up at him with a dick drunk look.

“You love sucking big dick?”

She nodded her head, continuing her blow job.

“Pop your lips off and tell me how much you love sucking big dick.” Stack demanded with a gruff tone.

Star did as she was told, like he was the puppeteer.

She did it nice and slow and lingered on the tip before releasing him. Stack’s nostrils flared as a deep and resonant, “Mmm,” billowed from his lips.

Star jerked with the help of spit, “I love sucking your big dick, Stack…it’s so big…and fat…more than what I’m used to when I fuck for the camera…” Star said with a practiced pitch in her voice that drove men crazy.

“Bet that pussy hole ain’t used to what I got. I know I’m right…”

Star damn near came.

She shook her head, “Not even close. I don’t remember what it feels like to be filled up with all this,” Star slapped him against her palm, “I need a reminder.”

“Put your mouth back on me first.”

Star sank back down on his dick. Stack shut his eyes and his tongue glided over sharp fangs. The lethal incisors were poking him in his bottom lip. Stack’s eyes, glowing brightly, watched her eat his dick up. He was close.

“You ready for this nut?”

Star responded with more enthusiastic sucking. She rolled her neck and pulled out all her nasty tricks. Spit on it. Flicked it with her tongue. Kissed his tip. Sat him in the back of throat. Slurped on his balls. Stack’s hips levitated from the chair and a strong fist in her hair kept her still.

Heavy breathing and sucking sounds with an occasional slap from his balls on her chin.

He was throat fucking her. Star felt hot tears roll down her face. She gripped his thighs.

“Mhm…mhm…keep yo’ ass still!”

Her nose pressed against his crotch almost suffocating her.

Hot jizz made its way down her throat, feeding her lust for him. Stack let her go and Star’s mouth popped off his dick.

A dick that still was as hard as it was before she sucked it.

Star went to wipe her mouth but Stack grabbed her by the neck, leaned forward, and thrust his tongue in her mouth. Star could taste his saliva. It mingled with hers.

“Your mouth felt like I was digging for gold…”

He kissed her.

“So good…”

Stack released Star’s neck. He helped her to her feet and took it upon himself to remove the rest of her dress. Star shimmied her hips, full nudity he’d only ever seen on screen finally revealed to him.

Stack was patient. Not rushed like she was used to.

He twirled her around, taking in every inch of her from the follicles of her head to the polish on her toes. When she stopped in front of him again, Stack allowed his hands to explore. He first glided his fingertips along her collarbone before they found its way to her breasts.

“Everything about ya’…so succulent.”

Stack fought the urge to extend his fangs.

What he wouldn’t give to sample her blood for the first time. With over fifty years of experience, he plans to. He’d been waiting to get his hands on Star Vixen. And she came to him so easily. Now here she was, standing in front of him dripping in sweat and smelling tasty. The aroma of her sex burned his nose in the best way.

The fans in Vaisseau blew her scent around, and Stack had to make a move fast to stake his claim. He could sense the pressure from surrounding beasts of the night, ready to fight for her. Stack would put up a fight. Star was his. His to feed from. His to fuck. She would be his for however long he planned to stay in Arizona before there was another calling.

The life of a Vampire required you to stick to the shadows. Stack did just that, feeding off of the blood of humans. Sweet, rich, and even addictive. The taste grew more intense the more he fed. He didn’t take too kindly to it at first, but each person has their own unique taste. He just knew Star tasted like syrup. He couldn’t wait to drench his goatee with it.

Stack’s lips found her nipples and he just knew they tingled once his tongue roamed.

And they did just that for Star.

“I’m gonna have my way wit’ ya’ tonight,” Stack uttered before flicking his tongue back and forth.

Each nipple. Equal attention.

His thick fingers reached between her legs and played with her clit through her fishnets. His fingers played around with her clit, slipping through her crevasses, finding her soft wet spot, fingering her slowly. He could tell from the look on her face she’d never been fingered like this before. Stack explored, changing the pace and rhythm of his fingers, playing around in her pussy.

Star clawed his shoulders.

“Bring one foot up…”

Star obeyed his command.

She was spread better for him. Perfect.

He was knuckle deep, fingers swimming in her pussy.

“I’m just tryna see what I got to work wit’…”

Star whimpered. Just leaking all over his fingers.

“Star…ya’ hear that?”

She stilled herself to get a good listen. Lips sealed.

Squelch squelch squelch

“like I’m diving in the ocean…so fuckin’ wet…”

Stack attempted to add a third finger but Star clenched up and hopped off his fingers.

He brought his hand up between them and Star watched with a dazed look at him rubbing his fingertips together. He sniffed his fingers first before sucking her mess off. Star stood still, eyes blazed, pussy missing his fingers. Those shining eyes held firm with her brown eyes and Stack dropped to his knees.

Get on your knees and arch your back

Star found herself getting into position on the edge of the bed. She did what she was told, arching over the bed, ass sitting high and open, fishnets imprinted in her flesh and revealing a hairy pussy.

“Have you ever had your ass properly worshipped?”

He took his fingers hooked them in her fishnets, and ripped them open with force. Star gasped.

Stack stared at the proud, thick, curves before him, the luscious mocha color of Star’s booty straining as she opened up, revealing both holes. Her ass was the perfect reward for him. That pussy he longed to eat for hours and hours. Stack kneeled down behind her, drooling all over himself to taste and touch and take of her rich, beautiful body.

Stack pinched the tender underside of one cheek, then the other, pulling them apart to see everything in between, a moan escaping his lips as he saw up close just how wet and creamy she is. There’s nothing like a woman’s ass spread out before you, waiting to be taken, to humble a man. Stack simply held her there in his hands, letting his thumbs rest along the edges of her lips, pacing himself before diving in for a delicious treat, one that already had his dick hard, strong, and ready.

You like that, daddy? You like the way I stroke my pussy?

You wanna taste it, don’t you? You want to eat me up like an ice cream sundae?

I’m all yours to devour…I want you to eat every inch of this wet pussy…don’t miss a drop…

Star on the TV was speaking the words for Star in person.

There was so much to taste and touch, Stack didn’t know where to start. The musky scent of her pussy perfume wafted through the air, smelling of sweat, and sweet decedents. Ass hovering in his face like this Stack could shoot a load all over the carpet right there. He couldn’t resist giving each cheek a solid slap, the sound echoing in the room as the sting reverberated in his palm so good.

Have you ever had this ass worshipped?

“No,” came her muffled reply as he spread her open and let his tongue explore her sweet curves.

Stack pressed against her twin globes, giving himself room to taste her sensitive flesh, the pucker writhing beneath him as he buried himself between her cheeks.

Stack curled his tongue into a point and dove right in while his fingers moved closer to her sex, stroking the wetness, what he found there just steadily dripping. He speared her asshole like a famished man. It was just him and her panting and grunting and her voice from the TV and the sound of Stack’s thick tongue and lips.

He dipped that greedy vampiric tongue into and out that ass, his drool acting as lubricant. He worshipped that ass like he’d never get another chance, tongue savoring her. That tongue wiggled down and he drilled it into her pussy. Stack filled her up as best he could, plunging in and out to the beat of her own rocking hips.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Stack heard her cry, a little louder than before as he pressed three fingers deep into her tight tunnel. Stack feasted on Star’s bottom again, those strikingly soft clappers against his cheeks. Sticky syrup coated his fingers. Her walls quivered. Her as whole clenched whenever he dragged his tongue over it.

You’re doing such a good job, daddy!

Eat me! Savor me! Take it!

Make me cum on your long tongue! Your sweet lips!

“Stack, oh my fucking goodness!”

His thumb flicked her bean in a downward motion from her position. He then rubbed it back and forth with his thumb. His tongue sat flat against her labia and he stroked up and down with it, drool coating her folds and adding towards a slippery ride. She twitched and writhed the more slickness appeared.

“Daddy, you’re drooling! So much all over me! It’s running down my stomach!”

Stack curled his arms around her legs and sucked on her clit with a tight grip. Star gathered the sheets into her fists and cried into the bed with nowhere to escape.

He made her cum. So hard.

Star could have fainted from how powerful that orgasm was.

And he wasn’t done.

Stack pulled his tongue out and kissed his way down to her ankles and feet. He got to his feet and positioned her himself for round two.

“Stack, you don’t need a break?” Star asked weakly.

His dick was iron clad and she couldn’t believe it.

He dragged her ass over the edge of the bed and got down on his knees again.

“I ain’t taking no break.” He mouthed. Stack smirked up at her, “You my meal until I’m through, understand?”

Star knew not to speak another word. Not when those eyes were sharp on her and gleaming like a monster.

Stack pulled her lips apart and finished where he started.

Star twitched in his mouth, pussy still sensitive.

“Thought I was gon’ get just one taste?”

Star’s eyes crossed when Stack’s full lips slurped up her clit and moved his head back and forth. She went to push him off and Stack locked her wrists.

“Uh–UHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Stack flicked his tongue and it sounded like he was lapping at water in a bowl. She flowed. Poured all over his damn tongue. He worked hard for it. Stack drank as much as he could down. Next to the taste of blood, pussy juice was the best thing. His tip buzzed with desire.

“You got my pussy cumming again!”

Star gripped his hair tight. Her thighs bounced and shook. Stack was not getting off her pussy.

And her thriving was pissing him off.

“Ouch!”

Star felt a sharp prick on her inner thigh. Sharp enough to make her listen. She felt all the blood in her veins rush to that one particular place. It perked her nipples and made her clit a stiff bud. Stack licked away at the spot he nibbled on before kissing his way back to her pussy.

“Don’t move again,” Stack opened her lips, “Look what following directions get you..clit nice a fat for me how I like it.”

Stack flicked his tongue over it. Star moved her hips up and down, following the way his tongue would go up and down speedily.

“What I say?”

She didn’t have time to respond. Stack pushed her knees so far back she was folded. He went back to toying with her clit. Star clawed his arms, crying out in overstimulation.

“STACK!”

She felt his lips do its job and he sucked away to his dead hearts desire. She extended her neck and whispered “This your pussy, this your pussy…”

He finally came up for air. His whole face glistened with pussy juices down to his chest. Star, bathed in sweat, locked eyes with him.

She couldn’t began to describe how soaked she is.

Pubic hairs slick with spit and cum.

Pussy lips engorged and pulsating with sensitivity.

Hole clenching and unclenching around nothing.

Stack kissed all over her pussy softly, admiring his work in between. Star began to relax, body going lax against the bed.

“That was amazing, Stack. Thank you.”

Stack smirked against her clit. He peered up at her from between her legs.

“Anytime, baby…I mean that.”

Stack kissed his way up her body. Star was drifting in and out of consciousness. He positioned himself above her, staring down into her face.

Sleep, baby…we’ll meet again…

Stack stroked her face until her head fell off to its side. He picked her up and tucked her in. Stack could wait to sink his dick into her. He just needed to eat her pussy. And it was worth the wait.

The sensation of sleep settled over his body, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay. Dawn was approaching.

He’d sleep for now, bringing Star closer so he could breathe her in.

@eggnox @blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @slut4smokemoore09 @readingaddict1290 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @theethighpriestess @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @girlsneedlovingfanfics @cancerianprincess @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @dashhoney25 @pinkprincessluminary @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams

[lunajay33]

Searching for You Part.3

•🪽🧺🧟‍♀️•

Summary: Reader and Daryl have been together since you were teens, you have crazy news for him but then the world falls apart and your searching for him every second

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warning: Pregnant

Part.2

•Masterlist•

Its been two months since the attack in the farm, separating me from the love of my life, from the people I grew to call my close friends, even Andrea left me alone but thankfully I was able to escape the hoard and found a near by farm house that still had some food left, I packed what I could, blankets, clothes, water and food and took a truck, the truck didn’t last long till it ran out of gas and I was left to walk on foot, now 7 months pregnant everyday was was a struggle just praying I’d find Daryl in time to give birth

After lots of alone time thinking I’ve decided that if my little Dixon is a girl I’m going to name her Lilah it seems fitting, Lilah Dixon

Winter came and it was harder with the scarce food supplies, I came across a house with a random dog food can smashed against a wall and some owl feathers scattered across the floor, the house was cleaned of any food that could’ve been there, I found a big enough coat that fit around my belly that would help me keep warm

Months went by and now any second I’m waiting for my water to break adding more stress, but atleast the snow was now melting, walking along train tracks like Daryl always taught me to do I found a prison, for some reason I felt a pull and I decide to check it out, maybe they still have an emergency food supply

I drag my feet exhausted, covered in walker blood and dirt and just my luck there’s a chain around the gate and post, I sigh resting my head against the chain link

“Please god I know I don’t pray much but please just this once give me a break” at that moment the door to the watch tower just behind the gate opens and out comes a darker skinned beautiful woman with a sword at the ready

“Please help me I’m about to pop any day and I just don’t want to be alone” I say desperate as my voice waivers

She lowers her katana and smiles as she undoes the chain and lets me in before looking it behind me

“Thank you so much, is it just you here?” I ask as we walk up to the prison

“No there was a group here before me, secured the place and have been doing pretty well”

“Seems we both got lucky, I won’t be in your hair for long I just need some food and time to have my baby and I’ll be on my way, back to finding my husband”

“We’ve got a guy here, goes out everyday looking for his wife, poor guy” as we get close to the prison I see a truck, a mini van and…….motorcycle, I’d notice that motorcycle anywhere, I wobble over to it tracing my hand over it

“Who owns this” I cry looking back at her

“His name is Daryl” she says confused

“Take me to him NOW” I suck in a breath and she shows me inside the cell block, and I see Maggie, Beth, Rick Carl sat around a table I almost fall to me knees

“Y/n?” Maggie said as she got up and came and gave me a hug

The others circling around with bright smiles but I was only looking for one face

“What the hells goin on down here” that voice makes me weak in the knees like it always did

The group parts and the world stops and it’s just me and Daryl, he drops his cross bow and comes straight for me pulling me in right and breathing me in

“I thought I lost ya but I never gave up Angel” he whimpers

“I knew I’d find you D, it’s been hard alone but I kept going for you and our little girl” his hands come down to rest on my big belly and I feel her kick right into his hands

“We missed you” I smile

“Trust us when we say he’s missed you more, he’s kept a whole bin of baby things he’d get when he went out saying one day he’d give them to his baby” Carl laughed

“Can I see, I’ve been alone for months I just want you to talk to me about all the things you got us” I sigh into his chest

The others gave us some space and we went up to his cell wear he took off my worn down shoes and helped lay me on my side

“I found this pink jumper fer when she gets cold, found these bottles, some pacifiers fer when she cries, a baby blanket that’s brown and pink cause I know ya love that, got ya some fluffy pajamas fer after the baby so yer comfortable, and all yer favorite snacks I could find” he showed me each one like he was the happiest kid in a candy store

“I can’t believe you got all this for me and Lilah, I can’t wait to show her all this but for now can you just hold me while I sleep” I yawn not being able to get a full nights sleep in so long

He got in the bed next to me and held me tight and covering me up

“I’ve never leaving ya again my love, I’ll be here when ya wake up”

•

I woke up abruptly to a harsh pressure in my belly then the bed under me was wet and a contraction came on strong making me gasp

“Daryl wake up!” I cry and he’s up immediately picking me up and bringing me to Hershel’s cell

“Hershel she’s in labour” the poor man woke up startled and got his crutches as we made our way to the medical room of the hospital

He laid me down softly and pushed my hair back kissing me on the cheek

“I’m scared D, I thought I could do this what if I’m not good enough” I cry as they get me ready

“Hey yer the strongest woman i know, ya made yer way back ta me and i know ya can do this, she’s almost here” hours of screaming and crying I finally hear it, little cries, Hershel cleans her up and hands her to me

“Ya were right, a lil girl” Daryl says as he sits on the bed holding us both

“I can’t believe she’s here, our Lilah, she looks just like you D, brown hair, cute blue eyes”

“But she’s as pretty as you, now get some rest our family is finally together”

•

Short one but just didn’t want to leave the story unfinished!!

Taglist: @heidiland05 @i93jjk @stories4you04-x @itsjustmeandmyanxiety @writer-ann-artist @buck-this-nasty @holdmytesseract @whump-loverz @kodzukenie333 @clairealeehelsing @nanoowl-blog @rubyylovestoread @alex22007 @fairysukii @ashsallyblue2 @minaxcarter

[vunblr]

Chains of Fate

Pairing: Destroyer!Chris x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: A florist keeps having trouble with her bicycle, and Chris, her rugged mechanic neighbor, is always available to help. Or isn’t he?

Word Count: About 6.8k.

notes: Yup, this story isn’t about Bucky. After reading this story by @sashaisready featuring Destroyer!Chris the other day, I had an overwhelming urge to write something with him. It was an itch I just had to scratch and well, here we are.

When she closed the shop's door behind her, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the street. The aroma of the last plants she touched still clung to her hands as she fumbled to lock up. The bicycle leaned against the wall, her reliable companion in her daily routine.

Except today, it wasn’t so reliable. As soon as she set her hand on the handlebar, she noticed the chain dangling uselessly, smudged with grease, and utterly dislodged.

"Seriously?" she muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face and crouching to inspect the damage. Her attempt to wrestle the chain back into place was met with resistance and a smear of black grease across her palm. With a resigned sigh, she glanced toward the mechanic shop next door.

The large garage doors were half-open, spilling the faint sound of a radio murmuring some old rock ballad. She hesitated. The other workers had surely gone home already, leaving the place unusually quiet.

The thought of asking him made her nervous and self-conscious. They’d spoken a dozen times, exchanging brief pleasantries when their paths crossed. He always looked like he belonged in an old motorcycle catalog: broad-shouldered with a padlock beard, hair shaved on the sides of his head, and effortlessly self-assured. Also, attractive. Very attractive.

As she predicted, he was still there, leaning against a workbench, the sleeves of his denim jacket cut clean to reveal his tattooed arms. His sharp features and unreadable expression gave him an edge that was as intimidating as magnetic.

Don’t overthink it. Just ask for help, she told herself. Still, her fingers fidgeted nervously as she wheeled the bike toward the shop.

"Hey, Chris?" she called softly.

He looked up, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers. For a moment, he simply studied her, then he tossed the rag he’d been holding onto the bench. "What’s up?"

"My bike... The chain came off," she explained, gesturing toward it. "I was hoping you might be able to fix it, if it’s not too much trouble."

His lips curved slightly, a smirk that wasn’t unfriendly but held a flicker of something she couldn’t place. "Bring it here."

She rolled the bike closer, and he took it from her hands, brushing her fingers briefly. He turned it toward the stand, crouching low as he inspected the damage.

"You know," he said without looking up, "you could fix this yourself if you had the right tools."

"I guess I’m not very handy," she admitted softly.

He glanced up, smirking faintly. "Good thing you’ve got me, huh?" before she could answer, he returned his attention to the bike, all muscles flexing as he worked the chain back into place. She found herself mesmerized, gazing at the strength in his forearms and the grease-streaked curve of his jawline.

"Something on your mind?" his voice broke the silence, and her heart jumped.

"No! I mean-" She winced inwardly, caught staring. "Just...thank you. For helping." She glanced around the workshop, her eyes catching on the faint outline of a lipstick kiss smudged on an old coffee cup by a wooden table. Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t stupid, she’d seen the kind of women who came and went from here. Long legged, sun-kissed beauties, wearing barely there shorts, with loud laugh and bold hands.

Not exactly like her.

He stood, rolling his shoulders, the chain now secure in its place. He moved closer, his sharp blue eyes studying her in a way that made her self-conscious again. His smirk softened. "Next time it happens, come straight to me. Don’t try to fix it yourself."

She nodded. "So… how much do I owe you?" she asked after a beat, softer than she intended.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" she repeated, a little startled. "I don’t want to take advantage of you,” she stated. “You took the time-"

“Y/n,” he interrupted, his smirk fading into something more serious. “It’s just a bike chain. I’m not charging you for that.”

She bit her lip, unsure how to respond. The way he said her name made something flutter in her chest, and she cursed herself for letting it. She glanced down at her bike, hoping to steady her nerves. "Well, thank you. I really appreciate it."

As he handed her the bike back, his fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary. "You’re welcome," he murmured, and she could swear his gaze flicked toward her lips.

She tightened her grip on the handlebars, offering him a small, grateful smile before wheeling her bike toward the door. As she turned the corner, she couldn’t help but glance back. He was leaning against the doorway, watching at her.

----------

The following day, she couldn’t focus. Not on the meticulous task of pruning succulents, nor the subtle rearranging of potted lavender displays. Her mind kept drifting back to the workshop next door. Specifically, to Chris.

She bit her lip, hands hovering over a basket of moss she’d been fluffing for far too long. It wasn’t just the gratitude she felt for him fixing her bike, it was the way his voice sounded when he said her name, the fleeting brush of his fingers as he handed her the handlebars, and damn, that stare.

By mid-morning, her resolve solidified. A thank-you was in order, a proper one. And if she were being honest, maybe she wanted an excuse to see him again. As the thought settled in her mind, she absently plucked at a stray leaf from one of her displays, and a memory came to her mind.

It was late summer, she’d been in a corner near the counter of the bakery, debating whether to get a cinnamon scone or stick to her usual croissant, when the doorbell chimed, and Chris strolled inside.

He was hard to miss, even in a crowd. Tall, broad-shouldered, denim jacket slung lazily over one arm. He’d made his way to the counter, nodding a greeting to the baker before ordering a box of assorted treats.

At the time, she’d assumed they weren’t for him. He didn’t seem the type to indulge in baked goods. Maybe the box was for his employees, or one of the women who frequented his workshop. But then, weeks later, she’d seen him again.

It was mid-afternoon, and she’d been sweeping the sidewalk in front of her shop when she noticed him sitting at the curb just down the street. He had the bakery box open on his lap, a brownie in hand, and his expression was uncharacteristically soft.

She had to do a double take, blinking in disbelief. Chris -the intimidating, sharp featured mechanic- was biting into the brownie like a kid savoring his favorite candy. A trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, his usual hard edges momentarily softened in the golden light.

She’d stared longer than she should have, her broom forgotten in her hand. The sight had been… endearing, unexpected, and strangely magnetic. It lingered in her mind long after he wiped his fingers on his jeans and walked back to the workshop.

Now, standing in her shop, the memory made her smile. It also gave her an idea. If he had a soft spot for baked goods, why not lean into it?

Decided to give it a try, she flipped the sign on her door to Closed in the afternoon and hurried home. Baking wasn’t exactly her forte, but she could manage something simple. Something thoughtful. She sifted through her cupboards, pulling out cocoa powder, sugar, and butter. Chocolate cupcakes seemed perfect: rich, sweet, and easy enough to make without risking disaster.

The process wasn’t without its hiccups. Flour dusted all over her counter -and somehow her shirt-, and she almost forgot to preheat the oven. But as the cupcakes rose, the warm aroma of chocolate filled her small kitchen, and a satisfied smile spread across her face.

By the time the ganache was swirled on top and the sea salt sprinkled for flair, it was late. She packed the best of the batch carefully into a small box, tying it with twine.

Tomorrow, she thought, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Tomorrow, she’d thank Chris properly. And if she was lucky, maybe she’d get to see him smile like that again.

----------

The next morning, she arrived at her shop earlier than usual, the cupcake box nestled securely in the basket of her bike. Her heart raced as she pedaled through the quiet streets, rehearsing what she might say when she saw him.

As she rounded the corner near the workshop, her eyes immediately landed on Chris. He was standing at the garage doors, fumbling with the heavy lock, a slight scowl on his face. The sight made her smile, seeing someone so self-assured look momentarily frustrated was oddly endearing.

She braked to a gentle stop in front of her flower shop, propping her bike against the wall. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the box and walked toward him.

“Morning, Chris,” she called softly, trying to steady her voice.

He looked up, and is scowl disappeared, replaced by a flicker of surprise. “Morning,” he replied, his voice gruff from the early hour. “You’re up early.”

“So are you,” she countered, her lips curving into a small smile. She stepped closer, holding the box in front of her. “I, uh… I wanted to thank you for helping me with my bike the other day. Properly, this time.”

His gaze shifted to the box in her hands, one brow quirking slightly. “What’s this?”

She bit her lip, feeling uncharacteristically shy. “Just a little something. I… made you cupcakes.”

Chris blinked, as though trying to process her words. “You baked me cupcakes?” he repeated, his tone hovering between surprise and amusement.

“Yes.” She hesitated, glancing down at the box. “I know it’s not much, but… I really appreciated your help, and I thought… well, you seemed to like sweets, so…”

His lips twitched, the corner pulling into a faint smirk. “You noticed that, huh?”

Her cheeks warmed. “I might’ve seen you at the bakery once or twice.”

Chris chuckled, low and warmly. He reached out, his rough fingers brushing hers as he took the box. “This wasn’t necessary, you know.”

“I wanted to,” she said quickly, meeting his gaze. “It’s just a thank-you.”

For a moment, he studied her with a soft expression that made her stomach flutter. “Well, thank you,” he murmured. He peeped inside the box, then back at her. “I’ll have to try them later. If they’re as good as it looks, I might have to hire you as my personal baker.”

She laughed nervously. “Don’t get your hopes up. Baking isn’t exactly my forte.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, with a growing smirk.

She shifted on her feet, unsure of what else to say. “Well, I should get back to my shop. Have a good morning.”

“You too.” He murmured. As she turned to leave, she felt his gaze linger, and it took everything in her not to glance back.

----------

It was later than usual when she finally locked up the flower shop. The delivery truck earlier in the afternoon brought far more than she’d expected, and sorting through the dozens of plants had turned into an all-day affair. She was tired, her hands aching a little from hauling pots and unpacking boxes, but it was a good kind of tired, that came with satisfaction.

She grabbed her bike from where it was propped against the wall outside and prepared to head home, already looking forward to a quiet dinner and a hot bath. But when she tried to pedal, the resistance was immediate. The familiar, dreaded clink of the chain greeted her ears.

Her brows furrowed. Again?

Her first instinct was to crouch down and take a look, but she paused, remembering Chris’s words: “Next time it happens, come straight to me. Don’t try to fix it yourself.” It had been a direct instruction, accompanied by a pointed look, and though she didn’t like feeling helpless, she also didn’t want to make things worse.

With a reluctant sigh, she wheeled the bike over to the garage next door. The overhead door was still partially open, spilling soft light onto the pavement, though the space beyond looked quiet. She hesitated at the threshold before stepping inside, her voice tentative.

“Chris?”

There was no immediate response, but a moment later, a door creaked open.

Her breath caught at the sight before her eyes.

Chris stepped out of the small bathroom at the back of the garage, barefoot, wearing only a pair of well-worn jeans that clung low on his hips and a towel that hung loosely around his neck. His chest and abs were still damp, droplets of water catching the light as they slid down his skin, evidence of a quick rinse before heading home. He stopped mid-step when he saw her, his brows lifting in surprise for the briefest moment. Then, slowly, a wicked smile spread across his face, and he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, the gesture both lazy and deliberate.

“Well, Poppy,” he drawled, his voice low and amused. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

Her cheeks heated instantly at the nickname, and she gripped the handlebars of her bike tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the space felt with him standing there. “My chain,” she said quickly, gesturing to the offending bike. “It came off again.”

He tilted his head, still grinning as he sauntered toward her. “Did it now?” His tone was almost teasing, and she couldn’t help but feel like there was something unspoken in his words.

“Yeah,” she agreed, clearing her throat. “So… here I am. Like you said.”

Chris stopped just a foot away, his gaze dropping to the bike and then back to her face, his smirk never faltering. “You’re a good listener,” he remarked, crouching down to inspect the chain. “Most people think they know better and end up making a bigger mess.”

She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened as his shoulders flexed with the movement. “Well, you made it pretty clear not to touch it.”

“Smart girl,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

As he worked, his fingers deftly maneuvering the chain back into place, she studied him, trying to distract herself from the warmth creeping up her neck. There was something about his expression, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“You seem… amused by this,” she observed, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Chris glanced up at her, his grin softening into something more boyish, though no less mischievous. “Do I?”

“Yes,” she shot back, though her voice lacked the bite she intended.

He straightened, brushing his hands on his jeans as he inspected his work. “There. Good as new,” He leaned casually against the bike, and the smirk returned, slow and deliberate.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep coming back,” he added, replacing the boyish smile with the smirk again.

Something about the way he said it… no, she was imagining things. She shook the thought away, offering a polite smile instead. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Let’s hope I don’t have to. I’ve bothered you enough already.”

He didn’t reply immediately, just chuckled low. A rich, warm sound that made her stomach flutter despite herself. Reaching for the towel draped around his neck, he tossed it over his shoulder, his smirk never fading.

“Guess we’ll see,” he replied, his tone dripping with mirth.

She gave him a quick nod, gripping the handlebars of her bike as she turned toward the door. As she wheeled it out of the workshop, she could feel his gaze on her the entire time, heavy and lingering.

----------

It couldn’t be just a coincidence, and she didn’t believe in hexes. As she stepped outside the shop the next day and tried to ride her bike, only to find the chain dislodged again, she was sure Chris had something to do with it.

But why? Was he bored and was using her as a form of distraction? Did he catch on to her little crush and find joy in teasing her? The thoughts simmered in her chest, leaving a heat that burned more from frustration than embarrassment.

Biting her lip, she squared her shoulders and left the bike leaning against the wall. Her resolve hardened as she stormed toward the garage, striding straight through the open door. The bang of it slamming shut behind her echoed in the quiet space.

There he was, perched casually on the edge of a workbench, a giant biscuit in hand. His broad shoulders hunched slightly as he chewed, and he looked up at her with a genuine flicker of surprise in his icy blue eyes. Good. Let him be surprised.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, her tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

He didn’t answer immediately, his poker face slipping into place as he leisurely took another bite of his biscuit. She marched closer, the click of her boots on the concrete floor punctuating her frustration.

“You think it’s funny, huh?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Messing with my bike to entertain yourself like some immature teenager?”

This... was not how he pictured this would go.

Chris blinked at her, caught off guard by the fiery edge in her tone and the determination blazing in her eyes. He hadn’t accounted for this, hadn’t considered that the sweet, flustered woman next door might come stomping into his workshop like a storm ready to unleash hell.

And damn if it wasn’t kind of hot.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he suppressed the smirk threatening to form, masking his features into neutrality. Okay, Poppy’s got thorns, he thought, his nickname for her taking on a new meaning. His smooth plan -one that felt straight out of a cheesy romcom, the kind his friends always mocked him for enjoying - was spiraling quickly out of control.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare or are you going to explain yourself?” she pressed, crossing her arms. Her cheeks were flushed, and her frustration was palpable.

He swallowed the last of the biscuit, brushing the crumbs from his hands. “Explain what, exactly?” he drawled, calm but with a hint of amusement.

“My bike,” she snapped, pointing toward the door. “The chain’s off again, and I know you have something to do with it.”

Chris finally let the smirk slip, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stood, the movement slow and deliberate. “Maybe you should take better care of it,” he advised, in a low and teasing tone

Her eyes narrowed, and he could almost see the steam rising off her.

“Don’t play dumb,” she shot back. “You told me not to touch it, to bring it to you, and now, magically, it keeps breaking?”

He stepped closer, his hands sliding casually into his pockets. “And yet, here you are,” he murmured, deepening his infuriating smirk.

Her glare faltered for the briefest moment as she registered his words. Indeed, he was doing it on purpose.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she breathed, her voice dripping with disbelief.

“Guess you figured me out,” he admitted, his voice dipping lower as he stepped closer, vanishing the space between them. Their bodies almost touched, and his heat radiated against her skin. “What are you gonna do about it, Poppy?”

That sultry tone, paired with the teasing lilt in his words, sent a wave of electricity coursing through her body, nearly making her knees give out. But she forced herself to stand firm, her chin tilting upward to meet his gaze.

Before she could stop herself -before her rational side could intervene- her hand shot out, slapping him across the face.

The sharp sound echoed in the quiet garage.

Chris’s head snapped slightly to the side, the sting blooming on his cheek. His free hand instinctively flexed at his side as he turned back to her with a stunned expression, as though he truly hadn’t seen that coming.

“Okay,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She didn’t give him time to recover. “I didn’t think you were such an asshole, Chris,” she spat, her voice trembling with anger, her chest heaving. “You have all those women fawning over you nonstop, and this-” she gestured between them, her voice breaking with frustration” was completely unnecessary. I hope your little game entertained you enough. Your stupid neigh-”

He cut her off the only way he could think of.

By kissing her.

The motion was swift. His hand slid around her waist, keeping her in place as his lips crashed against hers. It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss. It was firm, heated, and unapologetically bold, the kind that stole the breath right out of her lungs.

For a split second, her mind went blank, her anger eclipsed by the unexpected intensity of his actions. She froze, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

His lips softened slightly, coaxing rather than demanding, as if asking her to meet him halfway.

And damn it, she did.

Her hands found their way to his chest, whether to shove him or steady herself, she couldn’t tell.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against hers, and his breath was hot against her lips. “Now,” he murmured “are you gonna call me an asshole again, or should I keep going?”

Her eyes snapped open and her cheeks flamed as she registered his mischievous and utterly unrepentant smirk. Her chest rose and fell, words stuck in her throat as he leaned closer, his lips curling into a knowing grin. "That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, before capturing her lips again.

This time, the kiss was deeper, hungrier. His hand slid from her waist to her hip, pulling her flush against him, while the other cradled the back of her neck. Her protest melted into a soft moan as his tongue parted her lips, exploring her with confidence.

Her hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching at the firm muscles beneath his shirt as he walked her backward, guiding her toward the little office at the side of the workshop without breaking the kiss. When her thighs hit the edge of the desk, he took the opportunity to press his body even closer.

His name on her lips only seemed to spur him on, his kisses growing fiercer and insistent. The room was filled with the sounds of their ragged breaths and the scrape of papers and stationery being pushed aside as he lifted her onto the desk, stepping between her knees with a possessive grip on her thighs.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. "You can still walk out of here," he rasped, though the way his thumb traced lazy circles on her inner thigh suggested he knew the answer already.

Her lips parted, but instead of answering, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him back to her. That was all the permission he needed.

Chris’s hands gripped her thighs firmly, pulling her hips closer to the edge of the desk as he kissed her like he was starved. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, drawing a gasp from her mouth, which he swallowed with a low, satisfied growl. One hand slipped under the waistband of her cotton shorts, rough fingers skimming over the soft fabric of her underwear, teasing but not quite daring enough to push further… yet.

“Fuck,” he murmured against her lips, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, as he trailed his mouth down her jaw to the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, her head tilting instinctively to give him better access.

“You think this is fair?” she managed to gasp, with a trembling voice as his fingers edged lower, brushing over her clothed pussy. “Messing with me like that?”

He smirked against her skin, his lips trailing down to the hollow of her throat. “Fair’s overrated,” he muttered, nipping at her collarbone. “Besides, you didn’t seem to mind earlier.”

Her retort died in her throat as his hand slipped beneath the elastic of her panties, and, without preamble, he slid two fingers inside her, groaning low in his throat at the feel of her warm pussy clenching around them. “You’re so goddamn wet,” he rasped, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Was all that attitude just for show, Poppy? You have been wanting this as bad as I have?”

She couldn’t answer, not with the way his fingers curled, hitting a spot that made her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. Her nails dug into his skin through his shirt, and she felt his smirk against her neck before he nipped at her pulse.

“Exactly what I thought,” he stated, his voice laced with smug satisfaction as his thumb found her clit, circling it in a way that had her thighs trembling. “You’ve been waiting for me to take you apart, haven’t you?”

Her only response was a desperate moan, as her hips ground against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was so expertly coaxing out of her. He didn’t relent, adding more pressure to his movements, his breath hot against her skin as he kissed and bit along her collarbone.

“Say it,” he demanded, as his fingers plunged deeper. “Tell me how bad you want it, Poppy.”

“I… please” she whined trying to press herself harder against his hand.

Chris chuckled darkly against the sensitive skin of her neck. “Please, what?” he teased, his fingers slowing just enough to make her whimper in frustration. “Use your words, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”

Her pride warred with her need, but the desperate ache building inside her won out. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she tilted her head back, exposing her throat in a silent plea. “I need to cum,” she whispered, with a trembling voice. “Please, Chris.”

“That’s my girl,” he growled, his lips crashing back onto hers as he pumped his fingers harder, the slick sounds of her arousal filling the small office. His thumb pressed firmly against her clit, drawing a broken cry from her as her hips bucked wildly against his hand.

Her legs felt weak, her body trembling under the relentless assault of his touch. He pulled back just enough to watch her face, his eyes dark with hunger. “You gonna come for me, Poppy?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “Right here, with my fingers buried in this pretty little pussy?”

That was all it took. Her body tensed, her walls clenching around his fingers as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out, her nails dragging down his back as her orgasm left her trembling in his arms.

Chris didn’t stop until her shudders subsided, pulling his fingers out slowly and bringing them to his mouth. His eyes never left hers as he licked them clean, with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured.

Before she could recover, he was reaching for the hem of her shirt, his intentions clear as his eyes roamed her flushed, trembling body. “We’re not done yet, Poppy,” he said, his grin wicked. “Not even close.”

Her body was still trembling from the aftershocks, but her mind was beginning to clear, and with clarity came a surge of boldness. As Chris pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it somewhere across the room, she caught his wrist, halting his next move.

“Do you always pull stunts like this?” she asked, breathless but with a hint of sharpness in her tone.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk still firmly in place. “What, you mean fixing your bike?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she gave his chest a push, not hard enough to create distance, but enough to make her point. “Sabotaging it, you mean,” she shot back, her lips curving into a small smile despite herself.

Chris didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned in, his mouth brushing against hers as he murmured, “Worked, didn’t it?”

Her retort was interrupted by his hand sliding up her thigh, fingers tracing a slow, teasing path over her bare skin. She bit her lip, trying to hold onto her composure. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know,” she managed, her voice wavering as his hand crept higher.

His grin widened. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes, but her breath hitched as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts, cupping her possessively. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though her hands betrayed her words as they gripped his forearms, nails digging in as he teased her.

“And you’re gorgeous when you’re pissed off,” he countered, his voice dropping an octave.

Her laugh was soft but shaky, cut short when he slid her shorts and panties down in one swift motion, leaving her bare before him. He stepped back slightly to take her in, his gaze burning as it swept over her flushed skin. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She felt heat flood her face, but instead of retreating into shyness, she stepped forward, placing her hands on his belt and tugging him closer. Her fingers worked at the buckle with purpose, though she glanced up at him with a smirk of her own. “You’re not the only one who gets to have fun, you know,”

Chris groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he watched her undo his belt, anticipation clear in his darkened eyes. “Careful, Poppy,” he warned, though there was no real threat in his tone, just raw, unfiltered need.

“Or what?” she challenged, her fingers sliding beneath the waistband of his jeans to push them down.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he grabbed her wrists and guided her back toward the desk, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that left no room for argument. He lifted her effortlessly, settling her on the edge as his mouth moved down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

Her head fell back with a gasp, her hands rummaged against his shaved head as his beard scraped against her skin. “Chris,” she breathed, the sound of his name a plea that made him growl against her collarbone.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough as his hands roamed her body, mapping every curve.

Her nails raked down his back, as her hips shifted to meet his. “I want you to fuck me."

Her words snapped whatever fragile thread of restraint he’d been clinging to. He surged forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, rough and consuming, as his hands gripped her hips like he was staking a claim.

“Say it again,” he rasped against her lips, his voice low and gravelly.

She trembled, her nails kept digging into his back as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I want you to fuck me,” she repeated, her voice tinted with a mix of desperation and challenge.

“Good girl,” he growled, reaching between them to line himself up. With one hard thrust, he buried himself inside her, drawing a sharp cry from her lips as her body arched against his.

The desk creaked beneath them, the sound mingling with their ragged breaths and the low, guttural groan Chris let out as he began to move. His rhythm was relentless, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge as he held her firmly in place, one hand gripping her behind her knee and the other gripping the nape of her neck.

“Fuck, Poppy,” he muttered, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “You feel so damn good.”

Her hands clawed at his back, her head falling backward as his pace quickened. “Chris,” she gasped, her voice breaking on his name as her body tightened around him. The way he filled her, the intensity of his movements, it was overwhelming, intoxicating, everything she hadn’t known she needed.

He tilted back her head by the hair, his lips finding hers again in a kiss that was more raw than refined, his teeth catching her lower lip before he pulled back to look at her. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a guttural growl that didn’t leave place for argument.

“Yes,” she whimpered, her nails scraping against his scalp as her thighs clenched around his waist.

The admission seemed to snap something in him. He shifted his angle, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, each one drawing a broken moan from her lips. Her hands flew to the edge of the desk, gripping it for stability as her body shook with the force of his movements.

Her climax hit her hard, her vision went white as her body clenched around him. She cried out his name, raw and breathless as the pleasure overtook her. Chris followed moments later, as his hips jerked against hers one final time as he came with a soft groan, his release flooding her as he sank deep, unable to hold back any longer.

They stayed like that for a moment, bodies connected, and breaths mingling as they came down from the high. Chris pressed his forehead to hers, his lips curving into a lazy, satisfied smirk.

“Still think I’m an asshole?” he teased, his voice rough but filled with amusement.

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Oh, you’re definitely an asshole,” she replied, despite the sated look in her eyes.

He chuckled softly, but then silence settled between them. His gaze shifted to the floor, his hand running through his hair as if to busy himself. She tilted her head, sensing his sudden unease.

After a beat, he let out a sigh, furrowing his brows. “I didn’t think you would say yes,” he confessed, almost hesitant.

She blinked at him, her fingers pausing their lazy strokes on his chest. “Say yes to what?”

He bit his lip, clearly debating whether to answer. Finally, he sighed again, his eyes lifting to meet hers, though they held a vulnerable edge now. “When you told me I could just have asked you out,” he admitted, his words a little rushed, like getting them out quickly would make them easier to say.

Her gaze softened at the sight of his cheeks turning pink, the blush spreading up to his ears. He looked so different like this, shy and unsure. It was a stark contrast to the cocky, self-assured man she’d come to know. It reminded her of the way he looked when she’d caught him eating her baked goods on the sidewalk, his face lighting up like a kid at Christmas.

“Chris,” she said softly, pulling his gaze back to hers. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I don’t know. You’re… you. And I’m me. I guess I just figured… hell, I don’t know.” He laughed awkwardly, shaking his head as if to dismiss the thought. “That’s why I thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?” she pressed gently.

He flushed deeper, his hand falling to his side as he let out a resigned breath. “If I kept fixing your bike, it’d give me a reason to see you. Even if you weren’t interested. And maybe… eventually…”

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, she just stared at him. Then, a slow, amused smile crept across her face. “So, you’ve been sabotaging my bike this whole time just to spend time with me?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he ducked his head. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

Her laugh was warm and bright, and when he glanced up at her, she was grinning. “Chris,” she said, reaching up to brush her fingers along his jaw, “you really are an asshole. But you’re a cute one.”

That earned her a boyish grin, the confidence starting to creep back into his expression. “Cute, huh?” he teased, leaning in until their noses nearly touched.

She rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t pull away. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

His grin softened, but before he could respond, she added, “Also… I never thought you’d be interested in me. I’m not your usual… cup of tea.”

The playful spark in his eyes faded into something warmer, more serious. He leaned back just enough to study her face, his brows furrowing. “What makes you think that?”

She shrugged, her fingers fidgeting against his chest. “I’ve seen the women who hang around you, Chris. They’re all so… well, let’s say I don’t exactly fit that mold. I guess I just figured someone like you wouldn’t look twice at someone like me.”

Chris’s jaw clenched, his hands slid to rest firmly on her waist. “First off, that’s bullshit. You’re gorgeous, smart, and you’ve got this thing about you…” He paused, his lips quirking into a small, lopsided smile. “You’re real, Poppy. And if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been looking a hell of a lot more than twice.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, unable to suppress a small, bashful smile. “You’re just saying that because I slept with you,” she teased lightly, though her voice wavered just a little.

His expression turned serious again, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve wanted you since the first time you walked out of your shop six months ago, all wide-eyed and nervous to exhibit some plants in the sidewalk. You had a yellow apron full of poppies.”

She blinked in surprise. “You… remember that?”

His expression softened, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, I remember. How could I not?” His thumb continued its gentle caress over her cheek. “You were fussing over every little detail, making sure each pot was lined up just right. I was watching you from the garage and thinking how someone could be so damn... adorable.”

She blinked again, stunned. “Adorable?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “You had smudges of dirt on your face, a little furrow in your brow like the whole world would fall apart if one of those plants was crooked. And that apron…” He grinned, his eyes glinting with affection. “It had those poppies on it, and I thought, Poppy. It just… fit you.”

Her cheeks burned, the memory suddenly vivid in her own mind. She’d been so self-conscious that day, trying to make a good impression in the neighborhood. “I had no idea you noticed me,” she murmured.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, a soft laugh escaping him. “I couldn’t not notice you. I kept trying to come up with excuses to walk by, hoping you’d look up and say hi. But you didn’t even glance my way.”

She bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. “I was so focused on not messing up… I didn’t even think to look around.”

“Well,” he said, his grin returning as he leaned in closer, “I guess I just had to get creative after that.”

Her lips quirked in a wry smile. “Creative like messing with my bike?”

He winced, his blush deepening. “Yeah, maybe not my best plan. But it worked, didn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her smile. “You’re lucky it did.”

Chris chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Okay, but watching you storm in here like a little spitfire? Worth every second.”

She swatted at his chest, though her laugh undermined the gesture. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, but I’m your worst now,” he replied pulling her closer by the waist.

She arched a brow, giving him a deadpan look. “You just called yourself my worst. That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement, you know that, don’t you?”

“Fine, let me try again.” He caressed her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers “What about… I’m your guy now?”

She felt a flutter in her stomach at his words. Biting her lip, she hesitated for just a second before leaning in, brushing her lips softly against his.

“Much better,” she smiled, her gaze locked on his.

Chris’s grin widened, his cockiness tempered by something gentler. His hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer for another kiss.

Outside, the faint chirp of crickets signaled the end of the day, but inside the garage, time felt suspended, wrapped in the warmth of shared smiles and the lingering taste of the kiss.

“Guess I should fix your bike now,” Chris finally murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his thumb still brushed lightly against her cheek as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching her.

She laughed softly, the sound carrying over the music. “Maybe I’ll let you if you promise not to sabotage it again.”

His smirk was immediate, wickedness returning in full force. “Can’t do, Poppy. You looked way too damn hot storming in here.”

She swatted his chest, as the song faded into another, its upbeat tempo matching the rhythm of her fluttering heart.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[bigification]

Gainers Roulette

It's a risky game played by men desperate enough to risk their bodies for a chance at a bigger life. Men come from far and wide to play a game of Gainer roulette, some come out strong and sexy, some aren't so lucky. Although the game isn't all luck, it has a way of punishing those it deems unworthy.

Six needles are loaded, four with a serum that increases muscle and testosterone in the body, and two with a serum that drastically increases age and fat in the body.

The first player is a young man who pulls up on a motorcycle. He learned how to ride a motorcycle so that he could join his dad's group, but now he just gets picked on for being young and skinny. Well regardless, him being skinny won't be a problem after this.

He takes the serum. Immediately his face starts to change. His young and smooth features become more ragged, his clean shaven face quickly grows thick black hairs giving him a bushy beard, and the hairs on his head fall out leaving him with a smooth bald head. At this point it's hard to tell if he's won or not. Aging and losing hair is a common sign of losing, but he did want to look older and tougher so it could be either.

Next his body started to rapidly grow. He grew taller and taller as his shoulders broadened and his chest grew two juicy pecs that burst out of his shirt. His flat stomach grew into a thick six pack with a small layer of fat covering them. His arms exploded with muscle, becoming large and defined. Hair started to grow all over his body, covering his chest, stomach, and arms, giving him a much tougher look.

Moving downward, his previously flat ass perked up and pressed firmly against his shorts. His legs thickened as a thick pelt of hair grew over them, and his feet grew a few sizes, busting out of his shoes. And finally, a large bulge formed in his tight shorts, just for good measure.

Looks like we have a winner. The man leaned against his motorcycle and looked down at his nearly naked body. He smiled before riding off.

Our next player arrives in a luxury car. These never go well, rich guys only have one thing money can't buy them, good looks. So they come here expecting to walk out strong and good looking, let's see how this goes.

An average looking guy in an expensive polo and a gold chain walk out of the car. Not exactly what I expected, but close enough. He appears to be on the phone, and he doesn't seem to be enjoying the phone call. He puts the caller on hold as he approaches and takes the shot without even saying a word to me.

The man's well kept hair quickly falls off his head as his facial features start to age. It's not looking good for him so far. His cheeks puff out as a couple of chins grow under his soft jawline.

His scrawny body bursts out of his expensive polo as his gut grows bigger and bigger. He is left with a big hairy beer gut hanging out of his ripped shirt. His chest soon follows, growing into a thick pair of man tits with cheap looking tattoos on them.

His arms and legs thicken with mostly fat as his hands become thick and pudgy. The man is left old, bald, and fat. This is what usually happens to the rich guys who come here. He resumes his phone call as if nothing happened before getting in his car and driving away.

The next player slowly walks up holding a cane. He is an elderly sheriff who had to quit his job due to his physical condition, but wants to work again.

The man takes the shot, and almost right away his back straightens as he grows taller. Most of the wrinkles on the man's skin disappear as his he grows a clean silver beard. His receded hairline grows back and his skin tans from a pale white to a healthy golden brown.

The man's chest perks up and his shoulders broaden, filling out his sheriff uniform. The fat in his stomach disappears, leaving his uniform hanging off of his pecs. His biceps tripled in size, filling with muscle until they were about to rip his sleeves. His ass perks up and his thighs thicken, filling out his pants.

The man stands tall, smiles and nods at me approvingly before leaving without a word.

Next player is a young man who pulls up on a bike. He says he's close to getting drafted into the football league of his dreams, but he just hasn't been able to put on the weight needed for his position. Well either way I'm sure he'll be beyond heavy enough.

He takes the shot and his body starts to fill out. His skinny arms grow large and strong and his flat chest plumps up into two defined pecs, bursting through his tiny shirt. His pudgy stomach tightens up into a barely visible six pack with a sizable layer of fat covering it.

His legs and his ass explode with muscle and fat, giving the young man the look of a superstar football player. The pressure in his shorts grows until they rip open in dramatic fashion, making his ass bounce as it's released. Finally his face fills out, matching the rest of his massive body.

It looks like we have another winner. He seems to come to after the transformation is complete, an embarrassed look takes over his face as he attempts to cover his dick with his hands. His hands are quite massive, but it would be futile to try to cover up the monster he's got packing down there.

I throw him a towel to cover up and he thanks me before biking off.

The next player is a middle aged man who shows up in a barely functioning mini van. He said he used to be an athlete but had to stop after a serious injury. Ever since he had his kids, he has gained a lot of weight and struggles to do any activities with his kids.

The man takes the shot, and similar to the sheriff from before, his back straightens as his height increases drastically. Within moments the small feeble man with a can has become a tall and imposing man. His height has made his shorts look like short shorts and his shirt look like a bra, exposing his hairy gut. This would not last long however, as the fat in his body rapidly started to drain. As it did, his body began to twitch as an immense amount of muscle started to grow in his body. His hulking gut became a rock hard six pack and his moobs became a juicy pair of pecs. The man's soft arms became solid and defined as his hands became thick and calloused. His legs became strong and sturdy, and his ass became round a perky instead of sagging like it did before.

The man's face slimmed down, making his double chin fade as a thick black beard grew over his face. His receding hairline also grew back a little bit, giving him a more youthful look. Finally, a thick pelt of hair grew all over the man's body. Though the transformation seemed very taxing on the man, and he ended up passing out.

He must have been 6"4 and at least 250 pounds, so dragging his body to a bed was no easy task. It didn't take long for him to wake up. He thanked me profusely before getting up and leaving in the minivan.

Our last player for today is a young man who shows up in a cop car. He approaches wearing a police uniform, he feels he is not being respected by the more senior police. He wants to be more intimidating and demand more respect, but something tells me that his co-workers aren't the only reason he wants to be more intimidating. Unfortunately for him, he has no idea that there is only one shot left and it is not a winner.

The man impatiently takes the shot. Almost immediately, the man's flat stomach distended outward into a beer belly. It grows and grows until rips through his police uniform, leaving him in a tight black undershirt. He is left with a thick ball gut that hangs out of his shirt. His once defined pecs grow into two soft man tits that lay on his gut. The fat in his chest has even forced his arms to lay further out from his body. Speaking of his arms, they plump up under a thick layer of fat, nearly ripping his sleeves in the process. Even his hands look fat, with fingers that look like stuffed sausages.

Lucky for the young man, his uniform pants seemed to be slightly too big for him, so they have enough room to store his new body. His ass explodes with fat, stretching his large pants to their limit. His thighs follow suit, filling his pants until they're about to burst.

Just when the transformation is about to end, it gets worse for the young man. His face becomes pudgier as a thick double chin forms on his neck. But as the fat filled his face, the stubble on his chin went from brown to white. The hair on his head followed suit, becoming a pale white colour as his hairline slightly receded. Wrinkles started to form on his face as he began to rapidly age. From his mid twenties, to forties, all the way to his sixties in mere moments. His body started to sag under its own weight as blemishes formed on his skin.

Police equipment was scattered across the floor as the man was left in a tiny black undershirt and pants that barely fit. He flexed, making his shirt ride up even more, and smiled as he looked at his body. It seems as though he is unaware of how different his body was mere moments ago. He chuckled and states that the station will have no choice but to respect a man of his stature, and besides, he's definitely old enough to get some seniority. He picks up his ripped uniform off the ground and comments that it must have shrunk in the wash and that he needs to get a new one. He thanks me before squeezing into his police car and driving off

[lotusunique]

The engagement pt.2

Armando Aretas x Black Fem!Reader

In which the Reader has to attend Kelly and Dorns engagement party where an ex lover will be attending

You look up at the clock it was damn near 6:30 and you still weren’t fully prepared. Maybe it was the anxiety getting to you. On top of that you didn’t actually tell Kelly that Armando was your plus one. It wouldn’t really matter to her , you did all work together anyhow.

You vacuum and straighten up your living room, making sure not a single thing is out of place. Your personal house rule was whenever you leave for a period of time the house had to be neat so that future you wouldn’t have to clean up.

“Okay what else to do , what else to do”, you think aloud scanning your apartment. You spot your packed duffel bag in the corner beside your plant. “Hair! What the fuck”,you realize what’s missing.

You run to your bathroom and gather your products. This curl routine was not gon be easy to do within twenty minutes.

-25 minutes later-

“Okay curls poppin’!”,you say admiring how well your curly hair looks. “Let’s just hope this Miami heat gives me a few hours before the shrinkage sets in.

You quickly go to grab your outfit off your freshly made bed. Everyone knows you don’t wear your outfit while you do your hair. You smooth out the creases of the bodycon dress, eyeing how it accentuates your body.

You hear a loud knock on the door, “Shit!”, you say. “So Drug Dealers are fuckin punctual”,you groan. Grabbing your heels from the bottom of your closet you hear another knock.

“Cominggggg”, you call out. You finally make it to the door and attempt to steady your breathing.

You open the door revealing Armando in all black, his gold chain and cross pendant dangling around his neck and motorcycle helmet in hand. “How can someone look so sexy”, you think to yourself.

“H-Hey”,You stutter. “H-H-Hi”,he mocks you with a wide smirk. “Shut up”,you roll your eyes before letting him inside.

“Your place is nice”,he says looking around, eyeing the cozy loft. “You can sit anywhere you like. I’m almost dressed, i just need to grab the rest of my jewelry.”,You say looking over at him. “Cool take your time”,he says going to lounge on your couch.

You return to your room, grabbing a heart locket that matches your heart pendant earrings and your favorite tennis bracelet. You slide on your bracelet and earrings before making your way to the living room where Armando’s sat scrolling through his phone.

You look into the small mirror that’s against your wall checking your reflection before attempting to hook the clasp of your necklace.

“Why are these things so frickin hard to put on.”,you groan aloud. Before you know it, Armando is behind you, “hold your hair”,he says grabbing the necklace from your hands,you and his fingertips grazing each other, sending shivers up your spine.

Doing what he says, you hold your hair in one hand, watching as he fiddles with the clasps before finally letting the necklace lay flat on your deep mocha coloured skin.

“Thanks”, you smile up at him. He towers you by a few inches,causing you to look up at him. He nods without saying another word.

“Okay, I’m ready-“,you say reaching for your bag. Before you can grab the bag, he picks it up with no hesitation. “You don’t have to do that?”,you say furrowing your eyebrow at him.

“¿Qué, los traficantes de drogas no pueden tener modales?”, he asks raising an eyebrow with a smile. (What,Drug dealers cant have manners?)

“Oh shut up”,You laugh before the two of you walk out your apartment, you locking the door behind you.

The two of you walk out to where his motorcycle is as he hands you his helmet. “Is it safe for you to ride without one on?”, you ask. “I’ve done way more dangerous shit than this. Trust I’ll be fine princesa “,he says before getting onto the bike. You follow his lead before tucking the motorcycle helmet over your head.

Of course with your line of work you’d been on a motorcycle before, but you’d never been on a motorcycle with Armando. You lean into him, getting a smell of his cologne that makes you melt. He has just the right amount on, you hated when dudes smelt like they bathed in the shit.

Breezing through the streets of Miami, clinging onto him was something you could do forever it felt like.

Holding onto him made you feel so safe and secure, like nothing mattered in this moment. “We’re here”,he says, causing your heart to somewhat sink. “I wish I could ride for five more minutes”,You mutter under your breath. He turns to you, hearing exactly what you said,”what?”,he adds a laugh.

“Huh?”,you respond pretending like you didn’t say anything. He lets out a laugh before the two of you walk to the beach house’s front door.

“Heyy!”,Dorn opens the door,embracing you in a hug. He nods to Armando in the way that dudes usually do before eyeing the two of you.

“You two together?”,He asks.

“N-“

“Yep”

You look over confused at Armando who has a grin on his face.

“So when did you two happen?”,Dorn asks giving a confused glance. “Huh? What’d ya say Kells?”,You call out, pretending , to get out of this god awful awkward situation. “Gotta go”,you speed walk over to Kelly.

“My beautiful best friend you look gorgeous”,You smile admiring your best girl. “Thank you”,she smiles, pulling you in for a hug. “Let me show you to your room.”,She offers. “Okay let me grab my plus one”,You say. You walk over to Armando and Dorn who are deep in conversation. “Can I borrow him for a few?”,you ask. Dorn gives you a quick nod before talking to the other party guest.

“Oh hey Armando. You two..came together”, she gives a sneaky smile. “Yeah”,You give a quick forced grin, essentially telling her to hurry up and show you the room. “Right this way”, she nods her head and leads you two to the upstairs area of the beach house.

“Right here is me and Dorns room, this is Rafes room and Dorns brothers room.”,she starts. “And this one at the end of the hall is yours.”,she says. “Get unpacked, relax a little and then you can meet us downstairs”, She advises before disappearing back down the stairs.

You drop your bag on the side near the bed, Armando following your lead. “Why did you tell Dorn we’re together?”, you ask, trying to whisper. “The whole point of me coming with you is to make it seem like we’re dating right? Gotta make sure we look like we’re together”,he explains. “Okay you’re right.”, you sigh.

“Como siempre”,He laughs (I always am) “Shut up”,You laugh before the two of you return downstairs.

You strike up conversation with your co workers and some of Dorn and Kelly’s families, both already knowing you because of the history you have with the two of them.

You spot commotion coming from the front of the house and a sinking feeling enters your stomach. You start to fidget with your finger-tips when you spot him.

The man that attempted to ruin your life.

[gatheringbones]

[“Henry sat quietly while I told him the story of what had happened at the motorcycle rally, the moment of revelation when I’d seen myself for the first time: the boy on the motorcycle with the girl on the back. There were two separate things going on here, obviously, but one of them wasn’t something I was interested in looking at just yet, and anyway, the relief of having finally said the words “I’m gay” out loud to another human being was so great it almost overwhelmed the other thing. I focused my attention on Lola, the presence of Lola, my desire for Lola. I want a girl on the back of my bike, therefore I must be gay. The other thing would have to wait.

I felt it necessary to produce as much evidence as I could to corroborate this statement in case Henry didn’t believe me. While I might have looked a bit like a baby dyke when I was in my twenties, I sure as hell didn’t now, with my hair and my jewelry and my French manicure. Also, I’d never done anything remotely gay. I was forty years old, and I’d never even kissed a woman. But I’d been in love with dozens, so I went back through my history, naming all of them, starting with Georgia, whom I’d met at my first boarding school, and then Lola, whom I’d met while trying to get away from Georgia, and then the girl I had a crush on at art school, and the model I used to drop Ecstasy with, and the actress who once told me she like-liked me, and the musician I’d semi-stalked, and the school mom who’d made me forget how my limbs were supposed to work, and all the other women in between whom I’d pretended not to watch, or want, or wish for, or lie awake at night dreaming about.

By the time I finished, I’d shredded an entire box of tissues into my lap. “It’s like a monster in the cellar,” I said, taking the second box of tissues that Henry was passing me. “It keeps bursting up through the floorboards and yelling, You’re attracted to women and you don’t like having sex with men, and I just put my fingers in my ears and go lalala until it goes away. Because I cannot be gay.”

“Why can’t you be gay?”

“Jesus, Henry, I’m married with four children!”

Henry took off his glasses and started cleaning them with a cloth. I looked at the seascape hanging on the wall. It was probably meant to be soothing. I wanted to throw a brick at it.

“It might be different if I were a man, but I’m a woman,” I said miserably. “I don’t even know what the right type of gay is if you’re a woman.”

“The right type of gay?”

“Well, yes, because it’s different for men, isn’t it?”

“It is?”

“Because gay men can be kind of . . . glamorous, can’t they?”

“And lesbians can’t?”

I winced. “Well, no,” I said. “I mean . . . no.”

Admittedly, I hadn’t actually met any lesbians recently, but I could clearly remember the expression on my father’s face when he saw the pictures of the women at the Greenham Common peace camps back in the 1980s, lesbians with bad haircuts and shapeless clothes aggressively shaking the chain-link fence surrounding the nuclear military base while their boots sunk into the mud. Unfeminine women with left-wing ideologies were my father’s worst nightmare, and somehow I seemed to have absorbed this fear without ever fully questioning it.

I pulled another stack of tissues out of the box and blew my nose. My hands hurt so badly it felt as if my bones were splintering inside my muscles. “Is this what’s been causing the pain?” I asked.

“It sounds like you’ve been building yourself up in layers that don’t belong to you,” Henry said, gently. “Now you can start peeling them off again, find out what’s underneath.”

“What if I peel off all the layers and find there’s nothing there? What if I just disappear in a little puff of smoke?”

“Why d’you think that would happen?”

“Because . . . because . . . I’m frightened I’m not anything!”]

oliver Radclyffe, from frighten the horses: a memoir, 2024

[coquettetoji]

{⭐️} TOJI FUSHIGURO MOODBOARD

★ general toji hcs ★

— QUEUE WEST COAST BY LANA DEL REY

— let’s just pretend in this world he doesn’t have a son to actually care for yk.

— biggest beefiest juiciest (ok i’m exaggerating) but holy shit this guy is huge. i’m talking mma boxer huge, he takes great pride in his physic. and is guilty of being a gym rat.

— cockiest mf ever but in a hot way, he does that cheek tongue thing unintentionally and omlllllll

— toji definitely wasn’t the smartest in school, neither math smart, science smart or reading smart. he fucked most of his teachers but i mean he passed?

— although he wasn’t very academically smart, his skill in business and negotiating led to him earning a high position for a large financial group. drugs like hand over that amex????

— drives a motorcycle, i’m thinking ducati, as a hobby. 😏😏

— smokes cigarettes and drinks, his fav is hennessy, but other than that he’s a clean man

— was an emo in highschool, we don’t talk about that though. and neither does he.

— multitudes of tattoos across his body, mainly on his chest and arms though.

— his dream job as a highschooler was to open a tattoo parlor. he was surprisingly a good artist when it came to sketches.

— silver chains and silver jewelry, he’s pale so his complexion matches the colors better.

— sarcastic humor that would make kids cry. this guy treats everyone the same as if they’ll understand his humor and that makes him not so great around kids

— has a soft spot for cats, really wants to have a kitten but won’t ever commit to it/taking care of it

— has every single dating app downloaded not to date but just to get validation from everyone who swiped right on him. (gets at minimum 83 swipes per day)

— speaking of, his most used apps on his phone are phone (calls), messages, and instagram to watch his instagram reels 😋

— respectful towards women. although he seems like a d bag he does know how to treat a lady right

— drives a blacked out mercedes benz s class, ofc with tinted windows in case of.. yeah

— the scar running from the middle of his cheek down the side of his lip is from a fight during high school that got violent, he won though don’t worry

— grey/silver/green eyes, with jet black hair. he was genuinely gifted with godly genetics

— when he does smile, his lip corners turn up sharply giving him that joker smile type of look, my legs are wide open

— the most laid back chill guy ever, he doesn’t take life seriously enough for him to actually give a fuck

—6’4. argue with the wall.

— his hands are huge and the veins 😩😩😫😩😫 HEHEHE

— wears black compression shirts or black t shirts with sweat pants all day everyday, it’s his signature look

— he smells a bit like cigarettes and Maison Margiela Replica Jazz Club, just an overall eye rolling back into head type of scent

— makes dad jokes all the time minus the part of him being an actual dad

— played basketball growing up just in his neighborhood, was good enough to go pro but his grades were ass lol

— he listens to these actual underground rock bands that literally no one has heard of or the sports podcast on the radio like a true dad

— kinda behind on everything going on in the world right now, but it’s okay bc we love toji for it regardless

💌 new message from mica ‧₊˚✧

my favorite incoming dilf with a midlife crisis 😫

honestly one of my fav boards yet, i tried so hard to find the perfect resemblance of toji and omg the scar too kinda works perfectly

[psychooomind]

Mission Report

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Ladda and James are part of the Winter Soldier program. These are different stories of their missions, their traumas, and their history together over the years.

You can also find this story on AO3.

November 2nd, 2026, Dominican Republic

She lived on the outskirts of Manabao, Jarabacoa, near La Ciénaga. Her property was nestled deep in the mountains, with only a handful of houses nearby. The winding dirt road that led to her home was entirely private—a feature that gave her a false sense of security.

It was nearly midnight when Rose arrived home. She parked her motorcycle in the garage and headed straight for the shower. After nearly a week in the field—surviving on wet wipes and way too much perfume—she needed to stand under hot water long enough to feel human again. As the steam filled the bathroom, and she brushed through her damp hair, a quiet restlessness began to settle in. She was going to see Jack, her son, for the first time in a week.

In the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of red wine and turned on Ella Fitzgerald. Humming along, she began to prepare Jack’s favourite meal—mac and cheese with roasted chicken. These peaceful rituals, like the remote location, were part of the illusion of safety she allowed herself. But underneath that calm, the fear always lingered. A part of her half-expected a grenade to crash through the open window and reduce everything to rubble.

She knew there was no real danger. She’d done her sweep: the first gate, the perimeter fence, the hidden cameras linked to the small surveillance hub in her study. But the intrusive thoughts came anyway—part of the mental residue she brought home after spending seven days in the desert surrounded by hitmen and sandstorms. It was the price of being a CIA field operative.

Rose exhaled slowly. She was tired, but Jack’s dinner wasn’t going to make itself. After finishing the meal, she cleaned her gear, taking special care with the tools of her trade. Hidden behind the sofa in her study was a secret panel leading to a small tech room, where she stored her computers, weaponry, and surveillance screens. She set down little Peggy II—a battle-worn Getac B360 that had taken a bullet in South Sudan. Tomorrow, while Jack slept, she’d transfer all the intel and lay Peggy II to rest.

That night, she took three Ambien and prayed for a nightmare-free sleep. She slept deeply, but some dreams still dragged her back to Siberia. To the cold. To the screams. And worst of all, to his face—twisted in pain and rage.

In the dream, she saw the snow falling again, slow and silent, like ash. She felt the sting of the chains biting into her wrists. Metal on skin. Blood on snow. And then—his hands, bruised and trembling, brushing against hers in the dark. There had been a moment, barely a breath between missions, when everything else had disappeared. The war. The orders. The voices in their heads. Just the warmth of his forehead pressed to hers in a corridor lined with frost, his breath misting between them. He’d looked at her like he remembered who he was. Who she was.

But the memory always fractured—splintered by alarms, by blinding lights, by the sound of someone being dragged down a hallway.

She turned away from it in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent. Her body, though motionless, flinched as if resisting the pull of something long gone.

And then his face again, not as it had been in the cold—feral, hurting—but how she remembered him after it all. After the silence between missions. After the Winter.

The next morning, Rose hopped in her Jeep and took off down the narrow jungle road. Jack’s boarding school let out at noon, giving her just enough time to make it and surprise him with a cold Coke and a tiny car keychain she’d picked up at the airport.

Sending Jack to a boarding school was the compromise she’d made between motherhood and espionage. It came with its share of awkward encounters—especially from teachers who liked to play amateur detective. Like Ms. Reyes.

When Rose arrived, she checked in at reception and made her way to the first gate, where other parents were already waiting. The bell rang, and a swarm of children poured out.

She scanned the crowd for Jack but was intercepted by a woman in her late 30s or early 40s, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“Ms. McMillan!” Ms. Reyes exclaimed. “This is… unexpected!”

Rose tried to offer a polite smile. “I notified the school I’d be picking Jack up today. Is he not ready?”

“Oh, yes, yes—he’ll be out shortly. But I actually wanted to speak with you. About… some things Jack mentioned.”

Rose’s expression sharpened. “Is Jack okay?”

“He’s perfectly fine. But some of the things he said about you… about your work…”

“About me?” Rose blinked. “Jack doesn’t usually talk about me.”

“Well, Rose—he did mention—”

“Ms. McMillan.” she corrected coolly. Rose had zero patience for the faux-friendliness some people used to lower your guard. She wasn’t here to bond with Jack’s teacher—she just wanted to know what the hell was going on.

“Ms. McMillan.” Reyes corrected herself, awkwardly. “Can I ask what line of work you’re in?”

“Did Jack ask you to?”

“No… not exactly. He just said you work a lot. And…”

“Well, if he knows his mum works hard to provide for him, I don’t see why that should keep you up at night.”

“It’s just—other parents have started to question it, too.”

“Other parents?” Rose’s tone hardened. “I don’t even know the other parents.”

“Well…”

“MOMMY!” Jack’s voice cut through the tension. Rose turned and saw him sprinting toward her.

“I came to get my son, Ms. Reyes. That’s all. Have a good day.” She ended the conversation without another glance.

Jack threw himself into her arms, and she scooped him off the ground in a tight hug.

“You came!”

“Of course, baby. I’m here. Let’s go.”

On the drive home, they shared a Coke and sang Smash Mouth at the top of their lungs. Rose tried to catch up on every little detail of his week—his friends, his classes, what he loved, what annoyed him. She wanted to know it all.

“…and then Isabella started spitting her food.” Jack said between giggles.

“That’s kind of clever. Did you join in the prank?” Rose asked, amused.

“No… I just laughed a little.” Jack admitted, dropping his gaze. “I know it was mean, but she’s the one who put gum in my notebook last year. Remember?”

“I remember, love. We hate that girl.” Rose chuckled. “But also, laughing at someone getting picked on isn’t cool.”

“I know, Mommy. I swear I didn’t do anything!”

They ate lunch together and continued talking. Rose gave a few life lessons in between bites of chicken. Jack begged her to watch a movie before bed. She gave in, made popcorn, and let him choose.

When she returned with the bowl, she found him staring at the TV, wide-eyed.

“MOMMY, MOMMY!” he shouted. “It’s Captain America!”

“That’s not Captain America.” Rose muttered as she saw Sam Wilson giving a speech to a group of reporters.

“And look! It’s Bucky Barnes!”

Rose froze. James. His hair was shoulder-length again, and he was dressed in a sharp navy suit. He stood beside Wilson, stoic but composed. It didn’t surprise her that after Wilson’s speech, Bucky stepped forward to speak.

What did surprise her was what he said:

“…and that’s why I’m officially announcing my candidacy for United States Senator.”

“What the fuck?” Rose whispered, stunned.

“Whoa.” Jack breathed. His eyes sparkled with admiration. “Bucky Barnes is my favourite superhero.”

Rose’s heart twisted. Her son was unknowingly idolizing his own father—and had no idea.

[andydrysdalerogers]

A Second Chance ~ The Morning After

An Andy Barber x OFC Madeline Barnes AU

I always though when you found "the one" life would be perfect. My life was perfect.  I had a great job, a beautiful house and a handsome husband. Yes, my life was perfect.

Turns out I was wrong.

After a catastrophic event, Madeline Barnes does on the run and finds herself at a bar, trying to forget her pain and wallow in sorrow.

But she also found herself back into the sights of a man who knows her but she doesn't know him.

As Maddie recalls her relationship with her husband, she begins an affair with the gorgeous president of the Rebel Sons Motorcycle Club. The same man who saw her seven years before and won't let go of this second chance.

A/N:

This is a rewrite of the one-shot "A Second Chance" but with the names added. Original chapters will follow.

The tag list is open so if you would like to please let me know!

WARNINGS: smut! (oral M & F, PinV, Masturbation, etc.) cheating (by both parties) divorce, pregnancy, verbal abuse, violence.

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist // Series Masterlist

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Madeline 

It's warm.  

So comfy.  

A clean scent hits my nostrils, but it's tinged with motor oil. I breath in deeply and my eyes flutter open. The room is plain with just a photo of a beautiful bike. I am not in my room.  “Good morning, Angel.”  

I jumped at the voice and see Andy at the door, holding a couple of coffees in his hands. “H-Hi.”  

He sets the coffees down and sits next to me. He smiles as he pushes a tendril of hair behind my ear. “You’re ok, Angel.” He cups my cheek. “How are you feeling?” 

The memories flood back in. Walking in on Bucky, the drive, the burger, the drink, the sex. I can feel my cheeks burn. I don’t know why I feel so shy; this man has seen me naked and has bent me in ways I didn’t know I could bend. The thought leaves an ache between my legs. I give a small smile and look down, playing with the hem of his shirt that I had put on after our lovemaking. “I’m a little sore but I feel good.” Andy's finger goes to my chin and lifts my head. I look into his blue eyes. “I’m a little nervous.”  

“Don’t be, sweetheart.” He kisses my forehead. “I need to tell you a couple of things.” I nod. He hands me a cup and pulls out of his pocket a couple of cream containers and sugar. I take a cream and two sugars for my coffee.  He sighs. “Yesterday was not the first time I’ve seen you, Angel.” My mouth opens but he cuts me off. “I saw you for the first time the night you met him.  I know your husband.” I stop with the cup at my lips.  

“You do?” 

“Yes. We used to be friends.”  

Seven years Prior 

“To Missy, who is chaining herself to the best guy in the world, Cole, cheers!” I yelled as I clicked my glass with my girlfriends.  I can’t believe my best friend in the world was getting married in two weeks.  I wasn’t jealous. Getting married at 23 is crazy, at least to me. But there was no doubting the love between Missy and Cole.  

The bar I chose was way off the beaten path, but we wanted to have a cowgirl bachelorette party. The Roadhouse was grungy, but the atmosphere was about fun. There was a dance floor where we all went to dance. I had a prickly sensation on neck but a lot of men in the bar are staring at us, so I ignore it.   

“Ohhmegee, girl, those two gorgeous men are staring at you,” Betty tells me in my ear. I turn to see two men staring at me. Both are dark haired and built. One has shorter, cropped hair and a full beard. The other has longer hair and has scruff. I give them a sweet smile but turn back to Betty.  

“They are hot.” I grin. “But let’s face it, I would never hook up with them.”  

I, Madeline Snow, am a good girl. Everyone knows this about me. I don’t do one-night stands. I don’t just hook up for fun.  I’m a girlfriend girl.  I have boyfriends. Now, I’m not a virgin or a prude by any means but I can count my sexual partners on one hand.  

“Girl, I would seriously consider changing your stand on that for those two.” Betty eyes them appreciatively. “They are sex walking.”  

“Then you go hook up with them. I’m getting a drink.”  I walk over to the bar. As much as I want to hook up, I just can’t.  I need the connection, the intimacy that comes with partnership before I can take it to the sexual level. I flag the bartender, and he nods as he finishes pouring for another customer.  I tap my fingers on the bar, bobbing to the music, when a drink appears in front of me. I look up at the bartender.  

“From the guy,” he directs his head to one side, and I follow his gaze.  

Andy 

I have never believed in angels. I didn’t have religion. I had the club. They gave me everything I needed. Money, power, women. I wanted for nothing.  

Until she walked in.  

An angel on earth.  

Her dark brown hair hung heavy in curls clipped half up. She wore a jean button down with a short, lacy cream skirt and cowboy boots. She was with a group of girls that were giggling and rallied around one who had a tiara, the bride. The angel made a toast and girls cheered before downing their shots.  

I watched her as she danced with her friends, oblivious to the men staring at them.  

“Hot damm,” Steve said next to me. “Those girls are a breath of fresh air. Bet they are nothing like the club whores.”  

“Could find my future wife in there,” Jake commented.  He took off his glasses to clean them and then continued to stare.  

“You’re not wrong, Jensen.”  I watched the angel swing her hips, her skirt dancing around.  

“Fuck me, the one in blue and cream is a dream,” Bucky said next to me. I followed his gaze to my angel.  She looked over at us and smiled and I think my fucking heart stopped. She is beautiful. She turns to talk to her friend before walking to the bar.  This is my moment.  I could talk to her. Before I get the chance, Bucky gets up and heads in her direction.  

I watch as he says something to Sam and Sam nodding.  Sam then makes a drink and puts it in front of my angel. She glances down the bar and smiles again.  Bucky saunters over and leans on the bar next to her.  

Fuck.  

Madeline 

I watch the man walk over and causally leans next to me. “Thanks for the drink.”  

“You’re welcome, beautiful. My name is James.”  

“Madeline. Nice to meet you.”  I take a sip to try and calm my nerves.  

James gives me a smirk. “You’re here with the bachelorette party?” I nod. “Are you shy, Madeline?” 

I shake my head at him. “I know what you want from me James. And I’m trying to figure out how to turn you down without being mean.”  

He runs a finger over my bare forearm, making me shiver slightly. “And what exactly is it that I want, princess?” 

I lean into him, close to his ear. “You want to fuck me and leave me.” I pulled back to see shock cross his face. I guess he wasn’t expecting such language from me. I smile.  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I am not a one-time girl.” I turned my back on him.  

“I like a challenge, princess.” I whipped my head back. “Just a drink,” he offered. “Let’s talk, nothing else.” He offered his hand, and I stated at it. There’s wasn’t any harm in just a drink. I placed my hand in his and he led me off to a quieter table.  

It’s what I thought was the start of our forever.  

Andy 

I watched as my angel and sergeant in arms walk over to a corner table. His hand is on her lower back, and I feel my blood boil.  He sat across from her and they talked. Just talked. My cell phone rang. It was our President.  

“Yeah Prez?” 

“We need to get something taken care of. Where are the boys?” 

“Here. Buck’s with some girl.” I tried not to grit my teeth as I said that.  

“Leave him. It has to do with the Thunderbolts.”  

“Fuck me. On our way.”  I turned back to my boys. “Gotta ride. Thunderbolts.”  Steve closed his eyes and groaned.  “What about...” 

“Leave him.” I threw back the last of my whiskey and threw my cut back on before striding out the door.  I nodded at Sam, who understood what was happening and he nodded back.  I knew he would keep an eye on Bucky for us.  

I turn back to look at the angel in the corner. She’s smiling and giggling. I turn back and head for the door. I could only pray he fucks up and I can find her again. But right now, I had business to handle.  

Present 

Maddie 

I swallowed as Andy sighs. “Buck... James, he was one of my best friends.  We had a falling out around the time that you and he...” he let the words trail off. “Anyways, I was there the night you two met. I remember thinking about how beautiful you were...are.” He huffs a laugh.  “I didn’t think I would get to see you again.”  

“You had a falling out with him?” 

“Yeah, he decided to cut everyone off, everyone but Steve, because he said he wanted to go straight.”  

“Straight? What was he part of a gang?” I asked with a bubble of laughter.  

“Kinda. He was part of the club. Didn’t want the club to taint what he had going. I’m assuming it was you.” He stares at my face. It must look in shock because he gently cups my cheek. “I wish he would have told you.” 

“So, he was part of the club, and he left.  He wasn’t some mechanic and decided to open his own shop?” 

Andy sighed. “Yes. He left the MC behind. Steve is the only one that still talks to him. The rest of us wrote him off because a true brother would never be ashamed of us or leave for that matter.”  

I shivered at the thought of my James being in a rough motorcycle gang. Until last night, he had always treated me with kindness and respect. Like I was breakable, precious.  “Did Steve know about his cheating?” 

Andy shakes his head.  “I don’t know. You can ask him. He’s waiting at your house.”  

That startled me. “Why?” 

“So, you can have peace to get your stuff out of the house. He’s making sure the Bucky stays away.”  

I didn’t realize that I wanted that.  To leave in peace. Now I was grateful of James’s friend. Steve had always been kind to me, like I was a little sister. I hope that he wasn’t a part of this. That would really break me. Then another thought struck me. Where would I go? “I don’t have any place to go.” My entire life was tied to James and our home. I had basically nothing without him. I cursed myself for letting myself be tied to a man.  A man who shattered me. I was ready to cry, to scream, to murder the man known as my husband. Ex-husband.  There was no way I would go back.  

“You can stay with me. You can let him have the house and I’ll take care of you, Angel.” Andy kissed my forehead.  “Is that ok? To let me take care of you?” 

“I barely know you, Andy.” I looked around. The room was large but bare. Could I really make a home here? The thought wasn’t as terrifying as it should have been.  

“Angel, we’ll get to know each other. How about this? I will get you your own apartment.  Stay with me until then. I don’t want to let you go.”  

I’ve felt more with this man in the last 12 hours than the last three years of our marriage. I leaned up and kissed him softly on his lips. “Ok, I’ll stay with you until I can get my own place.”  

Andy 

It wasn’t exactly what I wanted but I could work with that. “Ok, Angel. Let’s go get breakfast and I’ll go with you to your place and get what you need.” I kissed her gently.  “Will you let me help you?” 

She looks up at me with shiny eyes. “I’m trusting you even if my head is screaming not to. My heart just feels like this is right.” She sighs and looks down. “I don’t want to be hurt again.”  

I lift her chin. “I promise to protect you and care for you the best I can. I would never willingly hurt you or put you in danger. I want you to become my girl, my old lady, the first lady of our club. I know you aren’t ready but I’m ready to show you that I care.”  

Maddie takes a minute and then she swallows. “Okay.” I press my lips to her in a more demanding kiss. She opens to me like a flower, and I sink into her taste. I want her again. Fuck, I took her four times last night but she is pressing into me like a wanton girl.  

“Christ, Angel, I want you again,” I say against her lips.  

“Then take me, Prez,” she says with a tone of seduction that goes right to my dick.  I lift her up and wrap her legs around my waist. I lay her down on my bed and pull my shirt over her head.  

We had time to sort out her breakup later.  

NEXT

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[velvet-paradox]

Naughty

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x Female reader Length: Medium Summary: You like your man a little mean and he obliges. Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, reader discretion advised, established relationship, name calling (dumb, dummy, toy, slut), strong language, porn with very little plot, a lot of brain rot going on here friends, light slapping (but not painful), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talking, detailed smut. P.S. I may or may not have a lovi obsession just sayin'. OK BYE Tagging: @synnersaint

She likes it when he's mean.

When he comes home hot and still full of spit and vinegar. Says it turns her on to get a little kaleidoscope glimpse in to what his enemies get the full taste of. Of course he's never truly mean to her, how could he? He loves his little dummy back home. With her glittering eyes and open arms, waiting patiently for him mission after mission. Her hugs are the best. Welcoming him home, where he belongs, even if he does reek of gun residue, sweat and gore.

Blood doesn't bother her, whether it be her own or Keegan's, she's not shy with the sticky stuff. She's cleaned his wounds with bare hands and when she's finished she's got more dirt and grime under her nails then he did. She's even stitched his forehead once or twice, much to his disapproval even though when he chances a look in the mirror, he can barely see the scars.

She's good.

Too good.

Too good for him, she doesn't deserve the junk and turmoil he brings to her doorstep. Wounds that won't heal, scars that won't fade. But he tries. He tries to be a good man when he's not running point, when he's not given instructions to just barrel through and get the job at hand, done. Keegan wants to be a good man; good enough to deserve you.

He looks at your photo when he's alone in his tent, on the road, in the helo. When the world is just too fucking loud, he's careful to take it out of his front left breast pocket (safe keeping of course), looking at your beautiful handwriting first.

FROM ONE DUMMY TO ANOTHER XOXO

He'll smile at it, beneath his ghost balaclava or bare and streaked when he's all alone, before he'll turn it over. Still after these tedious months, he gets that tingle in the pit of his stomach, the ends of his toes, the balls of his feet, the seam where God himself split his sac.

You don't have to be naked to look this fucking good. In fact, you're fully clothed, only your soft hands are available, giving two peace signs on the back of his motorcycle. Two of his most precious guilty pleasures.

"Come on, come on." Your whine cuts through the forgotten music in the background, the faint smell of a homecooked meal wafts up the stairs and renders the man completely useless.

Keegan is transfixed at the leash in his hand, the black leather is soft and worn in his palm, the chain clinks quietly when he moves his wrist and finally looks down. Stunned once more by your beauty. On your knees in a lacy one piece, slinky at best, leaving just a hint of peek-a-boo skin through the fine material. The leash is of course attached to the collar around your neck, next thing he sees is your wiggling, hips swaying as if you had a tail, sticking out your tongue in a lewd and obscene manner.

"You said we were gonna' play," you pouted as Keegan smiled down at your desperation. Distance did make the heart grow fonder and stitched your desires back together. "Don't you wanna' play with me?"

"Of course I do baby," Keegan pet your pretty face, humming when you nuzzled against his palm. "I'm just trying to figure out which hole I'd rather stretch out tonight."

The gasp and look in your eyes hit him straight in the groin, knowing damn he'd never sunk into that tight ring of muscle as of yet. You'd need preparation, time and training of course and more than just spit as lube.

Keegan shuffled and wound the chain around his thick fist, drawing you up on your knees. "You wanna' play? Let's play."

….

Your noises are music to his ears, long forgotten are the spraying bullets and shouts of commands, what's left, the only sounds that matter are of desire. Not too long ago were you taunting him from over your shoulder. He forced you to stand, about face, hands on the wall as he kicked your legs open. Biting his tongue at the way you arched your back and made your ass jiggle, pushing back against him as he tried to remain as still as possible. Which wasn't easy.

You never took it easy it on Keegan, he was a man of war. As much as you'd tease him, make that pretty noise when you wanted something badly enough to vocalize it, he'd lose his composure. Keeping the balaclava on just a little longer until he couldn't take it anymore.

He tossed you to the bed after that stunt, crawling over you, the clips of his fresh gear snagging on the lace as he covered your mouth with one hand, pinned your hip down with the other and stared into your fluttering eyes.

"You sound so good baby, so damn needy for me. You can hardly stand it, huh? Look at you, already moaning like a slut for me, just for me right? No one else."

You shook your head frantically, mumbling behind his palm until he lifted it away from your lips. "What's that, pet?"

"No one. No one else, I promise. Just you," you licked his hand sensually, keeping your eyes on his face as you laid back down. "I only want you to slut me out."

Keegan chuckled lowly with a nod of approval, pinching your side. "Good girl. Now just keep letting me know how good you feel, yeah? 'm gonna' keep going until you're shaking, making a fucking mess, is that understood?"

Your enthusiastic face made him hard.

Keegan ripped off his mask and got down on his knees, dipping the bed with his weight. He delighted in your squeals and giggles, fitting your legs over his shoulders, licking his lips when he realized the only the thing separating his mouth from your pussy was a pair of flat snap buttons.

Now listen, Keegan is no slouch when it comes to eating pussy. He knows what he's doing. If there were a (pun intended) eating contest, there would be a trophy case decorated with a few honorable medals as well.

The first time he tasted you, you almost broken his nose, bucking up hard into his face. You apologized repeatedly but Keegan just laughed it off, saying that would be the best excuse for his twice broken nose already. He licked his name against your clit. Letter by letter, shapes and swirls as he claimed your cunt.

K was a pointed tongue slashed against the hooded nub, the first E was gentle and flat tongued, the other E was followed by a slow and deliberate suck, G was a sloppy swirl and A and N were hummed to a tune of his own making.

Your hands moving to brush back his hair felt so damn good on his scalp, panting and wiggling for him. It had been two weeks too long. "Please baby that's it, that's it." Your voice was already fucked.

"I know you fucking love it," Keegan grunted against your sex, taking a moment to grace your slick folds with the bridge of his nose, chuckling lowly when you keened. "You just fucking love it when I devour you whole, don't you? Yes you do, tastes so fucking good."

When Keegan got lost in the sauce there was no telling just what he'd say, what string of commands or obscenities he'd loop together in some sensual tapestry that left you breathless.

"Yeah? I taste good?"

Keegan lifted his head, remnants of black grease paint over his pretty eyes looked up at you from between your legs, making them tremble in his grip. "You taste divine, princess."

With that, Keegan brought you to the edge, licking and sucking, toying with your cunt when he tagged in his fingers to join in the fun, those thick fingers breached your hole and stretched you out over and over until you begged. Sobbed for him to let you cum, that you couldn't hold it back any longer and oh how did Keegan love it when you begged!

"Come on sweetie, you can do better than that. Turns me on when you do it…. so fucking beg."

He licked your arousal from his fingers, making an absolute show of it too. "Good job, baby. You did such a good job for me." Keegan groaned as you panted to catch your breath, laid out and limber. He could throw you over his shoulders if he wanted, flip you over with ease, your limp body just going through the motions. Keegan could (and has) had you in every position possible and some that required a bit of technical work, a little fine tuning, angling his hips just so, holding your neck or lacing your fingers together.

Keegan is a man of many talents, in and out of the bedroom as he shifts and takes off his belt-- one handed. Your glassy eyes shine in the dim light from the room, predatory as you drink him in while he undresses.

Your hands are on his waist, burning hot before gives a gentle pat to the outside of your thigh, rolling you over on to your stomach. Sometimes he can't help himself and he gets this primal surge deep in his groin to obliterate you, break you, fuck you raw and stupid until you're a sloppy little mess of limbs and cum.

The smacks to your ass are deliberate and you raise up only to be pushed back down, Keegan grunted at you to keep still, to spread your legs, keep that one bent, just like that.

Keegan edges himself, rock hard in his hand as you dips just the crown of it around the base you, still wet. That bit of pre-cum on the tip is enough to wiggle between your cheeks with ease.

You shudder when he does that thing you like.

His spit slips between you, another glob of it makes it a sound leaving his mouth and hitting his shaft.

"Jesus Keegan, fuck me already. I need it."

"Oh I've got just what you need you dumb little pet," he grabs the leash, tugging on the chain as you pull on the sheets. "Whose my dumb little girl, huh? Is it you, baby? Are you my dummy girl?"

"Fuck. Yes."

Keegan yanks on it, jerking your head back. "Say it. I wanna' hear you say it."

Fuck; he's throbbing.

"I'm your dumb little girl. Just so fucking-- God that feels so good... I'm so dumb, so dumb for your cock, baby. Please."

"Good job." Keegan cooed and then thrusted in deep. "Let's slut you out then, yeah?"

….

God you're pretty. Clawing at the sheets as he fucks you through another orgasm. The clanking, your moans and body bending, arching into his touch like a needy cat. Pet me pet me pet me.

"Baby please," you paw at him, sentences die on your tongue, failing to make it out of the column of your throat. "I'm gonna' cum again." Now on your back with your knees pretty much to your chest, rocking on his cock with his momentum, the leash pulled skin tight.

"Awww of course you are. I can feel you squeezing me, my dumb little girl is getting her pretty little hole fucked out. You're so fucking hot," Keegan moaned out, he dragged a hand down his face, salt and sweat, paint staining his hands before he smeared it over your chest. He's marked you in a number of ways but to see you marked like this, with his mystery always got him going.

"Just like that-- ha!" you drawled, an almost pained 'oh my God' seeped into the air behind clenched teeth. Keegan mimicked you instantly, keeping his hand pressed between your tits. "I'm gonna' cum again, don't stop!"

Keegan's chuckle held desire and humor, fitting one of your legs over his shoulder, smearing his face against your calf. He was tempted to take a bite, too. Those intrusive thoughts always got the better of him.

"You think I could ever stop fucking this pussy, huh? Fuck yeah, squeeze around me again baby. You're such a good girl for me," Keegan was rewarded by his own praise when you leaned up to watch him split you open, spit on your pussy and fuck you harder.

What can I say? The man has stamina.

"Oh my God! Keep going keep going, fuck."

Your legs started to shake the minute Keegan's thumb met your swollen bundle of nerves, throbbing around his cock, crying out for more more more, that you couldn't take it. You came with a whine, sobbing with your release that flooded around the base of his cock. Keegan growled and gave it, chomping down the sensitive meat of your leg.

"Good job, baby. You look so fucking cute when you cum, when you're all brain dead," Keegan hissed through his teeth and pinned you down, heavy hands on your knees as he spread you open. "Open up for me, let me finish inside you. Gonna' fuckin' fill you up, two weeks is bullshit. Stay awake baby," he gently slapped your face in quick succession, jerking your chin to make you look at him and only him. "Don't get all dizzy on me now dummy, you've got some more dick to take."

She's really going to get it now...

[hauntingkiki]

Ashe x mute rodeo clown reader prompts

she finds you funnier then she'd ever admit

her and bob would defend you from trouble

you give her a matching clown nose as a gift and she’d beat up anyone who laughs her for wearing it for the day

ooo!! it’s been a hot min since i’ve done a request but here we go!

Unthinkable Pals

Ashe x Mute! Rodeo Clown! Reader

Overwatch

2nd POV

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

“get out of my neck of the woods, cole!” the cowgirl snapped, shooting the gun that she held in her right hand at the man, watching the cowboy speed off on a motorcycle.

her motorcycle that he stole months ago.

adjusting her hat and tossing the revolver that she held in her grasp to the dusty ground, she turned to look behind her, a faint sigh escaping her lips as she watched her robot friend pull you up from the ground.

hissing, she grasped at her forearm, leaning on a nearby rock before peeling her hand away, blood coating her hand as well as her arm, dripping down her fingertips and onto the orange ground below.

you perked up at the sound of the girl hissing, slowly walking to her. you bent down, cocking your head to the side whist holding a hand out towards her wound.

“i’m fine.” her thick accent rolled off her tongue like whisky, slight pain lingering in her voice as she winced again before relaxing, chucking at your shocked facial expression. “really. no need to worry your pretty little head, smiles.” she went to ruffle your hair before pausing, realizing that both her hands were covered in blood.

you held up a finger at the girl, pulling out a very long chain of assorted colored rags from your left sleeve, a small pile collecting at ashe’s feet as she watched with wide eyes and a slight chuckle. you untied one of the rags, wiping the blood that dripped down her arm before shoving the bloodied green cloth into your left hand, it seemingly disappearing out of thin air when you wrapped a few rags around her bullet wound.

“you really are full of surprises, aren’t ya?” she chuckled, scoffing as you swallowed the remaining cloths, clapping slightly with a nod. ashe looked around spotting a nearby gas station. “come on, smiles, bob, i gotta wash up.” she jerked her head towards the station, walking over to the building with a hiss, you and bob following after her.

walking inside the gas station, the worker acknowledged the three of you, instantly knowing who you were without even looking up. “cassidy causing problems?” he asked, his back turned towards the door as he cleaned up the shelves that were behind the counter.

ashe chuckled, grabbing the needed supplies off of the shelves. she handed you a few supplies as well; bandages, whisky, and cotton rolls. “that son of a bitch always is.” she scoffed, heading over to the counter with you in tow.

you both placed the items on the counter, allowing the cashier scan them before telling the price.

sighing, ashe pulled out the money that was needed and dropped it into his hands, snatching her whisky and strutting towards the bathroom, calling out to you as you stumbled, supplies in hand as you chased her down.

once you both were in the singe bathroom, she placed her bottle onto the counter, opening it before taking a swig. “think you could play doctor for me?” she smirked, pointing at the medical equipment with her glass.

your eyes shot open, darting between the equipment and at ashe, repeating this action a few times before slowly nodding, take the colorful rags off her arm.

ashe watched intently as you worked your magic, taking the occasional gulp of whisky to calm her panicked nerves as her arm pulsed.

the two of you stayed silent throughout the whole session, the only sound echoing faintly in the small bathroom was the sound of ashe swallowing and the equipment moving around.

“say.” ashe started, swirling the alcohol around its container.

you perked up for a moment before going back to your work, nodding towards the girl as a sign that you were listening.

she placed the glass onto the counter, moving her arm around once you finished wrapping the bandages on her arm. smirking faintly, she placed her hand on her chest. “i got a match later tonight, got an outfit that needs a little…statement.” she waved her hand in front of your face, her eyes twinkling. “think you can do my makeup for little old me, smiles?”

you took a step back, exaggerating a silent gasp which made the platinum blonde chuckle with a head shake. you threw your arms around her shoulders, smiling brightly as you bounced up and down on your heels. you, surprisingly, had your makeup on hand and you eagerly began to start.

ashe plopped herself atop of the counter, removing her hat which she placed on her lap. she noticed two clips that were in your hands and gladly accepted, pinning her hair out of her face.

you grabbed your face paint pallet, spraying it with your small water bottle before grabbing your huge brush that you used for your base. smearing it into the white paint, you wiped the white coated brush along her face, making sure to get all the spots you missed. you placed the brush into the sink, getting a different brush and dipping it into the red, doing a similar pattern that you had on your face.

the overall process took about twenty-ish minutes, quicker than the blond was expecting, but after all, this was your specialty. slipping off the counter, she turned around and looked at herself in the mirror. she cooed at herself, leaning forward as she got a closer glance at your handy work. “not too bad, smiles.” she beamed, pulling away from the mirror. she hummed in thought, dropping her hat back onto her head before her fists attached themselves to her hips. “it’s missin something, don’t cha think?”

you tapped your chin a few times before snapping your finger, pulling out a red, foam clown nose from your pocket. you squeezed it, a ‘honk’ echoing in the bathroom which sent you into a silent laughing fit.

ashe snorted, bitting on her lip as you shakily put the nose on her for, the two of you still giggling at the nose. “thanks, smiles.” she huffed, placing a hand on your shoulder with a light squeeze. “your a good kid, ya know that?”

rolling your eyes, you held up a finger before pressing at her chest then pointing a thumb at yourself.

“your right, your right.” she threw her hands up in defense. “i’m a year older than you, i should be WAY nicer to you.”

you nodded, acting like you were wiping away your tears that pooled at your eyes.

smiling, she looked at her watch before slumping. “i gotta go, smiles.” she muttered, heading to the bathroom door. she opened it, stopped and turned to you. “you know where to find me afterwards, yeah?”

you nodded, a small smile on your lips.

“good.” she walked out of the bathroom, leaving the gas station with bob.

•••

ashe smirked as she walked over to her team, gun over her shoulder as her cowboy boots clicked on the tile. “sorry i’m late fellas.” she cooed, waving her fingers at lucio who whistled at the sharp shooter.

“man, you’re lookin’ clean!” he gasped, snapping in applause as she spun around, showing off her clown themed outfit.

she snickered at the dj, jerking at hand at him. “not so bad yourself.” she nodded in approval, humming at the 80’s themes outfit he had on.

winston decided that for the next few weeks, everyone is allowed to wear whatever they wanted, as long as it fitted the dress code, of course.

“ah, just a little something i threw together.” he waved her off, the two walking, lucio skating, over to the doors that were shut tightly.

cassidy watched the two, laughing loudly as he shuffled over to the two of them. “what in the world is this?” he mocked, pressing at the red nose, the ‘honk’ echoing in the room which made cole laugh even harder.

ashe gritted her teeth, clenching at her gun. “hold…my gun.” she snapped through gritted teeth, passing her rifle over to luico who took it with a worried look. ashe cracked her knuckles before taking a swing, landing a punch right on the side of the cowboy’s jaw.

“ASHE, NO!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

i hope you enjoyed!! i went down the platonic route, with ashe kind of flirting at y/n😭

but! nonetheless, i hope you enjoyed!!

[thatoneandlonelyemo2005]

Some background info for this one!

The punks have this place that is like the lodge but its a car shop with a building connected to it where they all live or stay if their home isn't as good as the others

Also, they all ride motorcycles bc I said so and there just cool like that. BUT here's sprace who is the first couple to get together before Javid was even thinking about each other

-

"Do you even know how good you have it?" Race snapped. 

"What are you talking about?"

Race shook his head, Jack wouldn't know what it was like.. Or even would know about Spot or how Race feels. Jack has no idea but Race yearns, he wants, he needs more. “You wouldn’t understand!” Race yelled at him. Then he turned around and left.

He ignored his phone and planned all night long how to go up to Spot the next day. Although he was thoughtful enough that he wasn’t gonna do it in school. He was gonna do it after. 

Race parked his car in the lot and marched up to Spot at the car shop, crossing his arms, "We need to talk, Conlon." He also wasn’t trying not to think of Spot looking hot with oil stains, the other punks just staring with a look as they watched Spot walk towards him. 

Spot cleaned his hands a bit with a rag and half glaring at him as he stands up and they go a few paces away, "You know you're supposed to text me when you wanna see me. "

"Well I don't wanna do that no more. I just- I want to be able to see you when it's not the middle of the night, Sean."

Spot rolls his eyes, "Yeah well you know why we can't-" 

"Screw the labels! Haven't you've see Jack and David lately."

Spot almost hisses out. "Well just because Jackie boy doesn't care about his reputation doesn't mean I have to either. If you're not happy with this you don't have to keep seeing me."

Race eyebrows shot up, "So our time together meant nothing! What the hell did we do that for? Did you just want sex!? God maybe the labels are right, maybe you guys are nothing but horrible sex driven punks!" 

Spot clenches his teeth, genuinely hurt at the words but not wanting to show it. "It didn't mean nothing.", he almost whispered. "But I can't risk it." 

"So I'm not important enough. Will never be, it'll always be your rep first, huh, Spot?"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" He snapped, "You're not on the bottom of the food chain Racer! You'll always be safe since you're popular, I'm a punk, no one likes us!"

"Then let me help you, we can be stronger together-" 

"I first need to be strong for the others, we can't show weakness, Racer. They need someone to protect them-" 

"And who'll protect you?", Race yells, shoving him. "Who'll protect you when you do dangerous shit or insist you have to do everything alone?"

"Maybe I don't want your help! Or anyones for that matter. Maybe I want to be alone!" 

Race just stares at him for a moment, he swallows, "Alright fine then, you want to be alone then fucking be alone you punk!"

Spot is too stunned to react when Race actually reals back and punches him in the face. He wasn't sure if he'd ever done that to anyone, if he'd ever seen Race get physical instead of just mouthing people off, and he knew this was deeply personal, that he'd hurt the popular boy more than he'd even let on. "I thought we had something.", he spat before turning around and leaving Spot, now truly alone.

Spot watches as Race gets in his car, he speeds off leaving Spot on the ground. 

"Spot what's going on?!" Blink asked while running to him, "Shit your nose!" 

Spot lifted the back of his hand to his nose and there was blood. Race had finally punched him

He let Blink hand him a rag to stop the blood from getting to his clothes and walked back, not stopping at anyone's calls for him, going straight into one of the washrooms, gripping the porcelain of one of the sinks, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He felt tears well up in his eyes, his breathing getting shallow. Had he really just done that? Had he pushed the only good thing he'd had in so long away forever?

Spot slid down the wall and pulled his legs up to his chest. He felt a panic surge in him and couldn't help but wish for Race to hold him. Biting his lip as a few tears fell from his eyes. "God damnit Race!" He quickly wiped his eyes and ran out the door towards his motorcycle. 

An arm grabbed onto him and Spot turned to see Skittery. "Spot! Where the hell are you going?" 

"Yeah we got a car to fix up." Blink walked up behind him. 

Spot ripped his arm out of his grasp, "Let me go! Screw the car. I gotta find Race."

He wasn't sure if they'd assume that he was going to soak him or whatever else, but he couldn't leave Race like this, he had to... he had to go and apologize, beg him to take him back if he had to. Spot jumped on his bike and sped to the direction of Race's house, not sure if he'd be there or not, but it was at least the first place he wanted to check. Not seeing Racetrack's car he kept driving, to the one place where he hoped Race would go now.

Spot zoomed up the hill towards their spot. It was a bit out of the town but enough where they weren't so far away. As he went up the last curve he saw Race's car. Spot hit the breaks and slowed to a stop, killing the engine and started to look for him, "Race! Race please I'm sorry..."

Spot's shoulders sagged in relief when he saw Race sitting on one of the benches in the pavilion, knees pulled up to his chest. At least he was safe. Quietly, he walked to the pavilion, sitting down on a bench across from Race, not wanting to piss him off further. 

"What do you want.", snapped Race, not looking at him, instead glaring into the city after the cliff.

"To apologize."

"Maybe I don't want your apologies." Race mocked Spots words. Spot stayed silent trying to set him off. Race sniffled and rubbed his eyes. "Just yet out of here, not like you care anyways." 

"But I do care Antonio, I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I wasn't thinking. I was only thinking of myself and my reputation and I shouldn't have done that, it's wrong."

"Careful, if you keep doing that someone might think you care. You ain't getting more sex from me, if that's all you're after, so fuck off." Race just curled tighter in on himself 

Spot thought it might be time he stood up and got closer to him. That made Race look at him at least-or rather glare. He knelt down in front of Race, completely getting rid of any mask hiding his emotions, just showing how much he already missed the other boy, how he'd cried, how much he secretly loved him. "Antonio, I'm sorry, I was scared. Scared of what other people'd think of what they'd do to you. I'm not popular and I don't want you to lose what you have."

"I don't care if I lose everything! I just want you Sean!" He screamed out before thinking. The sound echoed off the ceiling a little and it gave Spot goosebumps."I-I just want you Sean." Races eyes begin to fill with tears, "I really don't care about school okay, I just wanna show off my boyfriend like Jack and David do now."

Spot scooted closer and took his hands in his. "Okay. Okay we can do that. If you really want people to know then we can start making out in the hallways startin' tomorrow." Race laughed and tugged at his hands, wanting him up on the bench. Sitting next to each other now, Race's feet on the ground again, he leant forward to finally kiss Spot again, one hand in his blond hair, the other in his leather jacket. Spot didn't hesitate a moment with kissing him back, his hands on his hips.

Race kissed him and turned his head to the side. Tightening his hold in his hair. He broke for air and kissed Spot's cheek, "Sean..." 

"Yes?" Spot kissed his jaw.

"You really mean it? Everything you said about not caring what others think." He felt anxiety spike in him. 

Spot pushed away and looked into Race's eyes, "Every word I said is true okay. I want to be with you." Race didn't answer and instantly surged forward to capture his lips into a passionate kiss.

Spot had no idea how he ever could have thought that he could live without this, without Race, without him to show him the world wasn't completely terrible and to make him feel normal, not like someone who had to hold the world together, not like a failure, just like Sean. He leaned back again, just enough so he could talk against Race's lips. "I love you, Tony." 

The other's eyes widened, but soon enough he smiled widely, hugging him close. "Love you too, you idiot."

-

@chaosfairy18 your boys are back<3

[if-rambling]

My mc for @harlequinoccult “Slaughter Squad”

Name: Freddie Valentine

Weapon: Chain Hook

Alias: Hook because I suck at coming up with aliases

Speciality: jack of all trades

Pronouns: he/him

Orientation: gay

Who carter took from him: his beloved

Main RO: sweetheart

Honestly Freddie has been fucking miserable living with carter and finally getting to kill him has made him the happiest in years

His mask is a skull mask

Freddie is not dressed very practically for this event. He believes style> everything else

Freddie has his own motorcycle and I like to imagine he has a second helmet that used to belong to his beloved that rarely gets used anymore

I like to imagine Freddie is just barely shorter than sweetheart but has a similar build to him

Honestly after carter it doesn’t take a lot to impress Freddie. Like clean up after yourself and he’ll be singing your praises

Honestly found sweetheart killing those people a little bit hot ngl

I love slasher horror movies so I’m so excited to see more of slaughter squad. I usually have trouble playing villain like characters but honestly I’ll probably have fun with it for this game

The picrew I used for Freddie

[tempestuous-tempest]

Again! Wrench Headcanons:

Guess this 28/41 year old is my hyperfixation for a while.[Age depends on which game he's in. WD2 has him at canonically 28 while Legion makes him canonically 41 years old.] This is about the length of my Deacon Rambles post...

Was a high school drop out at some point. Always getting in trouble for skipping classes, taking shit apart, having his hood/mask on, fighting because he didnt get along with people, etc etc. He hated school.

I see him as the type to have been a drummer in a band at one point. Eventually the band just fell apart but he has some of their songs on his phone still.

Loved the movie Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. In his mind, it had a badass sound track. 7 Nation Army by The White Stripes and Black Sheep by Metric and Brie Larson were real bangers in his mind.

Reeks of beer and gasoline most of the time. Change my mind.

Deadpool is this man's icon. Some of his jokes are inspired by jokes from the comics or movies. Has posters, funkos, obviously the comics and movies, and even dressed up as his own punk version of deadpool loosely based on the funko mini. His personal favorite mini was the chicken costume.

Has a unicorn stuffed animal himself.

Also likes Spider-Punk.

Likes Motorcycles a little bit more than cars.

Detective films? Yes. Action Movies? Definitely. Sci-Fi? Hell Yeah! Horror? Maybe not so much.

People seem to be unable to decide whether Wrench is Bi or Pan. I personally think he'd be Pansexual.

Doesn't like cleaning as he states ingame. Will clean if the mess starts to bother him. Or if Sitara makes him.

High metabolism which is why he's so thin.

Throwns in tons of movie/game references when speaking expecting people to get them and then has to explain them when they dont. Definitely geeks out when someone does.

You know that one audio trend with the person singing CPR and someone else yelling "Language"? He'd be the singer and Sitara would be the one yelling at him to mind his language.

Sends the most odd videoes at the most random of times.

Also the kind of guy that might not respond until like and hour or 2 later.

Tries to be pretty quiet in the mornings, besides the music blasting in his earbuds/headphones.

The more I think about the more I start to believe that his "bad driving" is just a thing he makes people believe until you see his dumb ass in a race and this fucker blows you away with his skills. Then you start to really understand why he can do perfect drifts getting away from the police or gangs in a chace.

Due to his always racing thoughts, he sometims forgets some things. Like he gets sent out to take out the trash, goes to the kitchen, forgets why he went in there, does a few circles to try and remember, then gives up and goes back to his room or workspace. It'll hit him like 20 minutes later.

Favorite food is probably Tacos. Pizza close in like 2nd or 3rd place, maybe.

Decent at voice impressions, if you couldnt tell.

Oh, and for those who absolutely need them, have some romance headcanons too:

Didn't show his face to his S/O until like 6 months into the relationship at the least. He was so fucking nervous too.

Wouldn't even fully open up about his past until probably a year in at the least.

Prepare for cheesy love songs, matching key chains, corny pick up lines, bits of playful teasing, and a lot of small physical touches. (Mostly hand holding but would wrap his arms around his s/o's waist) His s/o also wrapping their arms around his waist drives him nuts.

Needs a lot of reassurance that his s/o loves him. I wouldnt say constantly but quite a few times in the relationship, especially at the beginning.

He isnt exactly scared of commitment as he had a husband at one point. Key word: "Had". Dont expect him to fully settle down though. He still plans to fight until he is sure this battle is really over.

Two Words: Super. Clingy.

Might forget an anniversary, dont hold it against him. He sometimes forgets what he had for breatfast 15 minutes ago.

As I've mentioned before, he does not like kids. Don't expect a family with him.

No planned dates unless his s/o is the one who plans them. He kinda just does things whenever if both have the free time.

Makes sure to dial down his weirdness just a little so his s/o is comfortable. He takes things slow if they want them to be.

Was definitely taking forever to actually ask his s/o out. Hoped they would do it first but then got impatient after a while and just blurted out everything.

This is getting too long. Im done for now.

[mamawasatesttube]

6 & 29 for the ask game? i love your work!!

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

not "all the time" per se but i've definitely gone back to both fill in the blanks by @mindshelter and blush by @misspickman a few times. what can i say, i love it when tim is besotted and kon gets loved <3

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

okay i DO plan to post this.. eventually... when i finish the other 5 chapters of it... but given that i have no idea when that will be, here's a bit of the "jon's friends keep thinking his big brother is hot and he's in hell about it" wip sfdkjh (under the cut for length!!)

fanfic writer asks!

Any thoughts Yichen had about going to the skate park tomorrow get zapped clean out of his head as an engine purrs, and a sleek, sexy as hell motorcycle peels into the parking lot.

It’s a gorgeous dark red color, with black accents, exposed chrome exhaust pipes, and a front light and handlebars to match. It’s not obnoxiously loud, but its thrum is powerful and satisfying. It sounds expensive, if that’s even possible.

The sexy bike rolls to a stop right in front of the three of them, and the rider rests his foot on the ground for support. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a leather jacket covered in patches and studs—the shoulders are spiked, and a little chain dangles from one of the pockets.

Yichen identifies a few hero logoes among the patches on both the back and front; there’s the Superman family crest, obviously, on one shoulder, and then Wonder Woman’s winged W on a trapezoid. One of the Flash lightning bolts, too, in red and white—Yichen isn’t good at remembering which hero is which, outside of Metropolis. Is that… no, Kid Flash is yellow. Oh well. There’s others he doesn’t recognize at all, like a round yellow-and-black one right over the rider’s heart with a weird… bird-shaped thing, maybe?

Man, he really oughtta brush up on his heroes.

But that’s beside the point, because holy shit. This guy—this is the coolest guy he’s ever seen in his life! That jacket, the boots—chunky, thick-soled, covered in belts and buckles—and the ripped jeans, with barely-visible fishnets peeking out through the tears. This guy has fashion! Ho-lee shit, what is someone like that doing here?

Jon hops down from the brick fence with a sigh. “Alright,” he says, and leans down to pick up his backpack. “Well, I’ll see you guys.”

“Wait,” Priya says. “That’s your ride?”

Jon blinks. “Uh, yeah? Why?”

The cool as hell motorcyclist pulls off his helmet. Yichen’s jaw drops.

It’s like seeing Jon’s dad’s face transplanted onto a guy half his age and so much hotter. He’s got high cheekbones and a square jaw ever-so-slightly dotted with stubble, and piercing blue eyes just like Jon’s dad, and his hair falls in curls that should be crushed and flattened from the helmet but somehow still look amazing.

“Yo, Jonno!” Conner calls. “C’mon, we’re gonna hold up traffic!”

“I’m coming!” Jon hollers back. “I’m just saying bye, jeez!”

Yichen finally remembers how to close his mouth and does so. He doesn’t feel cold anymore—his face is on fire. “Dude.”

Jon tilts his head quizzically. “Yeah?”

“Dude,” Yichen repeats.

“What, Yichen?” Jon glances at Priya for clarification, but doesn’t seem to find any. What the hell does he need clarified here?

“Dude!” Yichen clutches at his hair. “Duuuude!”

“What!” Jon hefts his backpack onto his shoulders. “Stop ‘dude’ing at me and say it already!”

Yichen jumps down from the brick wall and grabs Jon by the shoulders. How does he not get it? How does he not get it?!

“Dude,” he says, as intense and emphatic as he can hope to get. He shakes Jon slightly, then points at Conner. “That is your brother?”

“Uh… yes?” Jon squints at him. “Is that, uh… a problem?”

Yichen clutches at his hair again. “Dude!” he exclaims in consternation. Grabs at Jon’s shoulders again. “Oh my god. Dude! Dude! You never told me your brother is hot!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yichen almost thinks he sees Conner laugh. Except that’s not possible, because the engine definitely drowned out his words—they’re not that close to the roadside. Priya definitely laughs, though, covering her mouth with one hand.

Jon, meanwhile, wrinkles his nose. “…Ew.”