#make him look hot as all hell and then give him three lines and stick him in the dark

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Nineteen

TW - I cannot stress this enough; Eddie's junk is not of this world

“You want hot chocolate?”

“Hot cho-co-late,” Eddie repeats carefully.

“I’m having one,” and since it’s Christmas, Steve gets out a small pot to make it properly on the stove top.

Steve’s stirring the slowly heating milk when he hears back back door open, and turns to see Eddie looking out, “Stee. Snowing.”

“Is it?” Steve comes out to look, “oh yeah. That’s nice right?”

“Pretty,” Eddie says, sticking his hand out and letting one of the big fat flakes settle on his fingers. Steve has a vivid memory of the last time they were in this doorway, watching the snow together, and just how different things are right now hits him all over again. Eddie sniffs the snowflake before shoving it in his mouth, “cold water.”

“You got it baby, come on, lets have hot chocolates and watch the snow.”

When Steve tells Eddie he can’t wear his hat to bed, Eddie pouts, but he does arrange it carefully on the desk, next to Steve’s flower crown. Steve has to blink back more stupid tears at the sight, and forces himself to take a deep breath and get into bed.

“Eybrows,” Eddie says, tracing them carefully with the point of his claw, “nose,” and then he veers off a little bit, “one mole. Two mole. Three mole.” Steve shivers where Eddie’s claw drags over his throat and then back up, shifting a little in bed, “mouth.”

“What are you doing baby?”

“Gro-seree list. All the things Eddidie likes.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters to himself, “how the hell are you so smooth?” He can feel himself blushing a little, which is just ridiculous.

“Not like,” Eddie rubs a knuckle through Steve’s scraggly stubble. He really does need to shave that off; he’s not drowning in a pit of despair any more, there’s no real excuse for the sad facial hair.

“No?”

Eddie shakes his head, rubbing fingertips across the smooth apple of Steve’s cheek, “good,” and then into the stubble, “bad.”

“This is smooth,” Steve tells Eddie, running his fingertips along Eddie’s arm, “this is rough,” he rubs at the stubble on Eddie’s head to demonstrate.

“Rough bad.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll get rid of it in the morning, okay?”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Breakfast morning lunch afternoon dinner night bed.”

Steve has to cogitate on that for a second, “yeah, yeah that’s right. Morning is after breakfast and before lunch. Afternoon is after lunch but before dinner.”

Eddie hums, settling down next to Steve in bed, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder, “before Hawkins Indiana, Eddidie in The Upside down.”

“That’s right baby, you got it.”

“After Monday Tuesday.”

“Yup, that’s right,” Steve yawns, “you have a good Christmas?”

“Many good. Christmas Tomorrow?”

Steve chuckles, “Christmas isn’t for a whole year. You remember what a year is?”

“January February March April...”

When Steve wakes up, it’s to the sight of Eddie’s feet right in the air. He’s lying on his back next to Steve, legs held straight up. He’s curling his toes. Sometimes all of them, sometimes just the big ones. His sleep pants have fallen down past his knees, and Steve lies there a while, just watching.

Eddie’s speaking, and Steve thinks it may have woken him despite Eddie’s obvious attempts to be very very quiet; he’s currently counting to ten. And then he says the days of the week, the months, the alphabet. He spells his name. He waves his feet around a little, and then bends his knobbly knees in turn, making circles like he’s riding an imaginary bicycle. He’s singing something to himself. ABBA, Steve finally makes out, it’s a bit mangled, ‘soopa troopa,’ the way Eddie sings it. Just the one line, over and over, ‘light’s are gonna’ blind me, shining like the sun,’ Eddie must have picked it up off the TV or the radio.

Steve must shift, or make a sound, and he gives himself away eventually, Eddie realizing he’s awake, “Stee. Morning. Breakfast food?”

“Morning baby.”

“Stee?”

“Yeah?”

“Eddidie baby, then Stee..?”

“Oh. You want a- hmmm.” Steve thinks, “how about sweetheart?”

Eddie looks terribly affronted, “Stee not food.”

Steve lifts his own leg out from under the covers, wriggling three toes at Eddie, “kind of am.”

Eddie actually makes a noise, so shocked a little puff of air escapes him as he splutters, “no!”

Steve can’t help his laughter, “too soon?”

“All tomorrows too soon!”

“Okay, okay. I won’t joke about it.” Steve thinks again, but most things he comes up with are kind of food adjacent. Joyce has kind of cornered the market on ‘honey.’ “How about love?”

“I love you.”

“I know baby, I love you too. But that’s what you could call me. Love.”

“Stee love.”

They brush their teeth together, elbow to elbow, “we really should shower.” They haven’t washed up since Christmas eve, when Steve dragged Eddie out of the pool. Steve inspects the tub; it’s streaked with disgusting gritty filth on the bottom, and the dirty blanket and clothes are still shoved into the corner of the bathroom where Steve left them.

They might be salvageable on a long enough wash, but Steve wants to get a trash bag rather than put them in his basket, they are really gross. He also hasn’t really done any meaningful amount of cleaning or tidying since the night Eddie bit his toes off...which between the injury and the moping, he felt he had a valid excuse to ignore the state of the house.

Not really now though, “I tell you what, lets have breakfast, and then do a little cleaning and some laundry, and then we shower, sound good?”

“Breakfast good.”

“Okay, I’ll just deal with this a minute,” and Eddie sits on the lid of the toilet, watching avidly as Steve shaves.

“Okay, so this goes in here,” Steve loads the washer, leaving the trash sack of really gross stuff for a separate wash later, “and then we measure the detergent like this.”

“Eddidie can?”

“Sure baby,” Steve tips the power back into the box, giving the scoop to Eddie so he can do it. Eddie carefully pours where Steve points. “Now, this is clothes, so we press this,” he points to the dial, and then the button, “so that gets rid of the dirt, and our clothes will be nice and clean.”

Eddie does it, and then grins big when the machine starts up, “done.”

“Good job, okay, so we give it a while, then we come back and set it drying, okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie waves at the machine, “bye bye dirt.”

“Help?”

“That’s real nice baby yeah, like this,” and Steve demonstrates as he moves along the book cases, around the TV, carefully dusting his mothers ornaments and picture frames, “you got it?”

“Got it.”

Steve leaves him to it, and goes and cleans the kitchen. Jon and Hopper did a great job yesterday, and Steve’s really grateful considering the amount of people who ate here, but there’s still an amount of post Christmas carnage to clear up. He takes the trash bag out since it’s filled with wrapping paper, then comes back and starts emptying the drying rack, getting the kitchen clean.

When he goes back into the lounge, Eddie’s done dusting, and he’s carefully arranging all his new things; he puts his new VHS next to the TV, ready for later.

“You want to vacuum?” Steve asks him.

“Vacuum?”

Steve retrieves it from the utility, plugging it in for Eddie and showing him how it works. “Dry?” Eddie shouts over the noise.

“No,” Steve calls back, immediately understanding the link between the hoover and the hairdryer, “clean!”

Eddie takes the hoover, and once Steve shows him how to move the plug from socket to socket, he does the whole downstairs of the house. After, they sit on the couch for a bit, Eddie’s new legs a little shaky with exertion, “you want to try a coffee?”

“Try a coffee. Want. Please.”

“Okay,” Steve makes them both a mug of coffee, making Eddie’s a little sweeter and milkier then his own, and Eddie drinks the whole thing happily. Steve figures if a beer doesn’t hurt, then a little coffee won’t either.

It turns out twenty minutes later that a bit of coffee can have side effects; they find themselves dealing with Eddie’s first poop.

“Cross the bridge,” Eddie had declared hilariously, after producing what was possibly the most heinous fart Steve had ever heard. Steve scrubs the tub while Eddie sits on the toilet, staying present but trying to give Eddie the illusion of privacy.

“Pee more bad then poop,” Eddie tells him.

“Well, at least this one doesn’t hurt, huh baby?”

“Not hurt. No ow.”

“Pee doesn’t hurt now though, does it? Just that first one?” Steve checks.

“No. No ow pee. Called first?”

“Good. That’s good.” Steve gets the shower head down to rinse away the last of the cleaning product, leaving a shiny white tub behind, “uhm...first is. One. That comes first. Monday comes first, January.”

Eddie hums, frowning like he does when he hasn’t quite grasped it yet. To be fair, Steve knows he can’t always give the best explanation for these things. “Not ow,” Eddie tells him, back onto safer ground.

“So if its not ow, we say it doesn’t hurt.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Eddie parrots back, “no ow. It doesn’t hurt. Okay.”

“That’s right baby.”

Eddie awkwardly wipes and then flushes while Steve gets the water hot for his shower, he waves at the toilet, and says, “bye bye poop,” Steve covering his face with his hand to try and muffle his snort of laughter. Eddie strips off, putting all his things in the hamper, “Stee love in tub?”

“You go first.”

Eddie frowns, “no, together.”

“I…” and Steve can’t, actually, think of a real reason why not, so he gets undressed too.

Steve shampoos and then conditions his hair while Eddie stands under the water, doing little swaps back and forth when Steve needs to rinse. Eddie’s doing a half hearted job, he keeps getting distracted by the feel of the splashing water, watching fascinated as it drips from his fingers, so Steve eventually intervenes. Steve carefully scrubbing Eddie down with the wash cloth; he’s so thin, Steve can almost make out his thigh-bones. His knees, ankles and elbows protrude and Steve could fit his fingers between Eddie’s ribs.

“You hungry? I think there’s left over cobbler in the fridge.”

Eddie nods, “cobbler. Sorry canned filling. Idge cold. Make hot?”

“Yeah I can warm it up for you.”

Once Steve’s done, Eddie limpets himself to Steve. The stubble on his head is starting to turn dark, like Eddie has a five o’clock shadow on his head, and it’s rough on Steve’s shoulder, prickling him. Steve doesn’t mind though. Steve rubs his back, following the knobs of his spine.

“We should get out,” Steve says absently.

“Maybe,” Eddie replies, making Steve snort a laugh, kissing the top of Eddie’s prickly head.

Eddie responds by leaning up to kiss Steve properly, slow and soft, “first?” He asks after.

“First what baby?”

“First kiss today?”

Steve thinks about it, “yeah. Yeap you’re right. First kiss of the day, right there.”

Eddie grins, “first kiss of the day tomorrow?”

“We can do that.”

Eddie suddenly lights up, “license first! Eddidie car after!”

“That’s it baby, exactly right,” Steve tells him, Eddie clearly finally grasping the concept.

“Called before sleep kiss?”

“That would be last. Last kiss of the day.”

“December last? Sunday?”

“Yeah, yeah baby, you got it.”

Eddie nods like there was never any doubt, leaning in to kiss Steve again. Still slow and sweet, a soft touch of lips, Eddie’s arms wrapped around Steve’s middle, holding them close. It takes a minute to register the movement, something pressing against the crease of Steve’s thigh. He leans back a little to look down.

The top of Eddie’s slit has parted; the opening wide enough to permit the...Steve doesn’t even know. It’s worming against Steve’s skin, the flesh the same color as Eddie at the base, but darkening to near black at the rounded head.

It moves freely, probably roughly the same thickness as Steve’s own cock when he’s hard. Steve watches as it moves...like it’s looking for something. It moves like a snake. Like an octopus tentacle. Nudging and casting about across the skin of Steve’s hip; when it wriggles back the other way, finding Steve’s pubic hair, it nuzzles in against it.

“Eddie,” Steve swallows thickly, stunned into a frozen state of fascination, he's pretty sure he hasn't blinked in a minute, his heart thudding loud in his ears, “what-I mean. What is that?”

“Eddidie?” Eddie says, gently reaching between them to touch Steve’s own soft cock.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve breathes.

Eddie’s hand slides across, touching...himself? Steve guesses?...with his fingers. The...thing seems to wake up again, tangling itself with Eddie’s fingers easily. It’s very...twisty. And bendy. The thing looks like it has a, a kind of grip on Eddie’s fingers, almost.

And then the end starts to open, six petals that slowly start to peel apart, and Steve panics, jerking away, pushing Eddie’s hips away with both hands and holding him there at arms length.

Eddie’s...dick? Seems to startle, zipping back inside him like it was never there. “Holy shit. Holy shit,” Steve breathes, drawing in only slightly panicked breaths. He can feel his heart banging away in his chest, “pants.” He croaks out, desperately, “we should both put on pants.”

Part Twenty One

[jevilowo]

MY OPINIONS ON VARIOUS TF2 SHIPS

For funsies

SCIENCE PARTY:

fun ship, but they're GodComplex4GodComplex and I fear that would only end in disaster

TOASTED SANDVICH:

if there is one heavypyro fan on this stupid baka planet it is me. shout out to menacing quiet individuals who like violence but have a soft side fr.

BLOODY SUIT:

literally The Original toxic yaoi rivals to lovers red blue combo ship. speeding bullet and napoleon complex fans WISH they had our shared update and corresponding voice lines

BATTING HELMET: (scout n solly)

i just think it's really funny trust me on this one guys. have you seen them in the fourth comic it's a constant "yes, and" bit between the two of them. soldier's love language is choking people out.

HIT AND A MISS: (scout n pauling)

like most ms pauling ships, i'm only into it if scout's a cool lesbian. which he is not most of the time.

RED OKTOBERFEST:

AAAAAAAAAAAAA literally the ship of all time save me heavymedic save me. if they don't smooch in the next comic i will become jay pinkerton's personal sleep paralysis demon.

SPEEDING BULLET:

my feelings on it are Complicated. twas my first love (otp) in this fandom, but the overabundance of twinky uwu scout and daddy dom snoipah has built up some resentment on my part. call me back when people stop making up imaginary life problems for sniper to comfort scout over.

NAPOLEON COMPLEX: (Spy n Engie)

literally just rarjack if they were boys and not horses to me and i'm not even an mlp fan. it's alright, just doesn't really stick out to me.

SPYMA:

LITERALLY THE POWERCOUPLE EVER TRULY A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES or at least the version that exists in my head is. i have so much made up spyma lore it's crazyyy. bonus points if they're polying up they cule with sniper it's quickly becoming my favourite genre of fanart (i have seen at maximum three)

SUPPORT SANDWICH: (spy n sniper n medic)

in my opinion, it is healthy for everyone to have at least one ship they just like bc they think it's hot. for me, that is support sandwich. not much else to say on that the fics are all banging go look them up.

SNIDOS: (sniper n GLaDOS)

hell yeah.

ADMINPAULING:

i used to like it a lot, but timelining implies ms pauling's been working for helen since her mid teens at the latest so i no longer like it. 4chan leaks my beloathed pleaseee don't make them kiss i think it would kill me in a bad way

URINE SAMPLE: (medic n sniper)

there's a lot of werewolf and vampire stuff for these two on ao3 which is pretty fun. and i'm way more likely to find sniper angst under the medicsniper tag than sb and bs which is always a plus.

FRENCH TOAST: (spyro)

have you seen that one animation where pyro gives birth to spy's child and gordon freeman is there at one point. yeahhhh. the ship's pretty cute tho spy would be sooo soft for pyro they'd light his cigarettes for him.

BOOTS AND BOMBS:

THE FORBIDDEN RED/BLU ROMANCE GOES CRAZY I ADORE IT. same team bnb is pretty banging too. bonus points if they're polying up they cule with zhanna.

SPYPAULING:

HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE. imagine. spy x pauling. yuri. that will be all.

SWORDVAN:

SWORDVAN MY LOVE!!! idk what it is about demo and sniper together but HELL YEAH TOP 5 SHIPS FR FR. shout out to the guy still writing monsterous intent, they're like single handedly carrying the swordvandom.

TEXAS TOAST:

I used to think "this is cute" but then my friend got really really into it and that hyped me up into "THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST SHIPS OF ALL TIME" territory. bonus points if they're yuri! shout out to Technicolor California, my current favourite fanfic of all time (it overtook running blind in the interal rankings). oh yeah insert mandatory "no hate to engie and pyro father son dynamic preferers" message here lol.

Ok that's enough I will cover more at some point maybe.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part three - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: bullying ; asshole security guards ; mentions of traumatic pasts ; heavy drinking ; suicidal ideation ; depictions of suicide

She vaguely wonders when she had become such a cry-baby.

It’s her second favorite activity. The first is drinking alone, although enough liquor and she is immediately crying anyway.

She takes another sip of the vodka in the glass, puts her head in her other hand, lets tears drip onto a scuffed kitchen table.

These tears are from the fear that eviction could soon be in her future. Her new job, although awful, pays well, and she’s been picking up as much overtime as she thinks is safe.

She would be taking more open shifts if there wasn’t a hulking security guard out for her blood.

She tries to rationalize through the misery, but her brain can only sooth with thoughts of disaster, and eventually she always ends up giving in to things like this, so she does that, and lets herself sob for a long while.

Yearning for an actual mother she can call and ask for advice, she picks up her phone and stares at the screen longingly. Maybe a dad would be better for this situation, but she doesn’t have one of those either.

She doesn’t have anyone in this lonely city.

It’s times like these when the thought of slitting open her wrists in the bathtub sounds like a lovely escape. Her eyes catch the glint of scattered kitchen knives on her counter, but she doubts they would be sharp enough. She could walk to the corner store and buy a razor blade, but the fact that she is too lazy to do that right now tells her that she’s not yet fully committed to the idea of suicide.

Sure, it sounds great in theory. Kill yourself and make the pain disappear. Grow up with enough religious trauma, and the thought gets less appealing. The hell of life is nothing compared to the biblical one, at least not from what she’s learned about it, and although she has no belief now, the eternal damnation and fire-brimstone combo still sticks inside her brain and scares her alive.

When she had told her landlord she didn’t have enough for rent, they had hung up on her. That action alone was enough to interpret as a 30 day eviction notice.

So here she is, nothing to live or die for, head on the table, unpleasantly drunk, crying on her poor raw cheeks. Three cups of ramen left for dinner, a fourth case of pop in the fridge, salt and pepper and a bottle of ketchup and expired mustard, half a bottle of cheap vodka, and eight dollars. And too cowardly to even kill herself.

She remembers John telling her something about taking shitty care of herself, and he’s absolutely right. Out of line, but right. It’s funny how a guy that’s known her for a week can see her better than she can see herself. Her vodka brain suggests asking him for more advice since he seems to care so much. She thinks about it for a minute, the irony of asking an inmate for life directions, decides it actually is a great idea. It surely has nothing to do with her wanting to talk to or spend more time with him.

He is very handsome, even sporting that long, unkempt facial hair and prison jumpsuit. And of course she would find a prisoner attractive because he showed her the tiniest bit of non-negative attention. Yes, he’s convicted, but they’re not all bad. Some are in for stupid shit. Maybe he just pissed off the wrong person.

But he is good-looking. Anyone with a functioning brain can see that. Unless they hate tall, dark, broad-shouldered men with muscles. Not obscene muscles either—

She catches her wandering thoughts, screams into the thick wood of the kitchen table, vows to stop thinking about how hot her patient is, because crying is better than jumping down that terrifying rabbit hole.

She reaches for the bottle of vodka, drunken brain convincing her that she doesn’t have to look because she knows where it is. However, her brain is very wrong, and instead of gripping the bottle, she ends up knocking it over.

Before she can rectify the situation, there is already liquid all over the table and floor. The bottle is empty. She tries to look on the bright side because she doesn’t want to cry anymore. At least it would disinfect everything. Less cleaning that she had to do in the morning. It doesn’t work and she’s crying again.

————— ———————

She feels like an idiot creeping into the break room to search for cameras. Of course, there are none. She doesn’t keep her drinks or food in here anymore and she decides that this will be the final time she visits altogether.

Benny can’t get to her if she’s always in the open. The most he can do is scowl at her and make stupid comments, and these things she can live with.

She is at the desk doing her paperwork when she sees him again. Immediately, she wants to run, especially since he is walking her way. She stays put, though, determined not to let him see how scared she is of him.

He slides up to the counter and looks down at her, grinning. “Hey kid, nice shiner.”

She doesn’t look up.

He continues. “I forgot to get your number for the camping trip, mind giving me your phone for a minute?”

“I don’t have a phone.” The lie could have been a better one, but she’s still proud of herself for coming up with it under pressure.

Benny laughs, leans more toward her, his bulging shoulders hunched in and squeezing his cheeks. He reminds her of her old school bullies. “Bullshit.”

She sighs and puts her pen down. “I really don’t,” she says, “I broke it a week ago and I can’t afford another one.” She hopes the square outline of a smartphone in her pocket isn’t visible once she stands up.

His smile dissipates. “You better not be lying to me.”

That registers as a threat. She tries not to shrink, holds herself steady.

Diane, the other, older female nurse, comes through the swinging door of the nurses station.

Benny backs off the counter and leaves, scowling.

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

She should have told him off, explained to him that she would rather jump into a ravine full of crocodiles than give him her phone number. She at least likes crocodiles.

She’d like to think she’s never felt this helpless, but she’s wrong. Growing up in  foster care, she had met plenty of men like Benny. It grew hair on her chest, so to speak, formed her into a protector for those who needed one. But all those traumatic experiences never made it easier for her to stand up for herself. If anything, they made it much harder. It’s hard to show your backbone if you never learned how to grow one.

She can’t focus on the paperwork, not when Benny is here and she hates herself for not telling him to fuck off. So, she decides to round on her patients—one in particular she’s very worried about.

Although he did cross a line, the line was already breached anyway, and she can’t convince him or herself that she’s mad at him for it. First of all, because that would be admitting to him…and herself that he can get under her skin even further than he’s already burrowed, and, second of all, because admitting she’s angry at him would be establishing that she has some sort or relationship with him outside of the professional one.

In a provider patient scenario, it’s often the case that the patient feels weak and helpless, especially if the provider has feelings for them. If John finds out she feels drawn to him like this, he will probably hate her and think she’s a creep, and she’d honestly rather get fired than have that happen.

She doesn’t want to put him in a position where he has to tiptoe around her.

Trying to lie to herself, reasoning that this is her job and John is her patient and she needs to check on him periodically anyway, she stands up and pushes her chair in. A bunch of people have been discharged over the past few days, and her case load is light tonight—light enough to be boring. She only has three patients including John. The other two sleep soundly, both with only one wrist cuffed to the bed.

She knows that John won’t be sleeping.

She’s right, he’s not asleep, but he’s got other company tonight. Mike stands beside his bed with his phone held to John’s face. The blue light of the screen illuminates his kind smile. It’s a polite, slight upward turn of his mouth for Mike’s benefit, but when he catches her eyes, it turns genuine.

She smiles right back, almost involuntarily.

Mike doesn’t notice her, flips through his phone pictures. John has seen at least twenty photos or more of his grandkid’s since the janitor began talking to him tonight.

“And that’s my daughter-in-laws little girl, Ashlee.”

She almost steps back out to leave them to it, but John catches her with his voice. He says her name and Mike turns around, smiling wide.

They both greet her, and she greets back. Mike shoves his phone into his pocket and looks at her apologetically. “I suppose she’s here to do her job, and here I am slacking off,” he jokes.

She chuckles. “How dare you take a break, Mike, you know we don’t get those.”

“Right, right,” Mike sighs, sarcastic, “must have forgotten. My age is finally getting to me.”

“You’re like 30,” she tells him, waving a dismissing hand in the air.

“Aw, I love this girl,” Mike giggles, looking at John. “Best nurse in the building, you’re lucky to have her.”

She rolls her eyes, flushing, still smiling. “If you keep lying, you’ll go to hell.”

“Well, I hope so. I already bought my ticket.” He nudges John with an elbow, winking down at him. “I’ll leave you kids to it and get back to work.”

Mike starts to walk out, mop bucket in tow, but stops, addressing John, the freshly awakened guards, and herself.

“Why did the chicken cross the road?” He asks.

“Why?” She asks, already smiling for the punchline.

“Nobody knows,” Mike sighs. He looks off into the distance, adopting a dramatic, grave expression. “But the road will have its revenge.” With that, he is gone.

She’s the only one that laughs. John’s smile perks, although not for the joke.

She promises herself to find Mike later and ask for updates on his adorable little hoard of kiddos, then focuses her attention on the man cuffed to the bed.

“I don’t need anything,” he tells her before she asks. “But, I’m glad you came in.”

“That’s my job,” she shrugs.

“I really am sorry,” John says, looking like he means it with his droopy, apologetic eyes. It makes her heart seize to see him moping like a dejected dog.

“Don’t be sorry because you’re right,” she says, past the point of giving a shit what she talks to him about or what he knows about her. Maybe this is her way of living dangerously because of a shitty existence. Some people choose meth, she chooses alcohol and alluring prisoners. We all have our vices.

“Maybe not,” he says, “you’re alive, that’s saying something.”

She laughs without humor. “But I can’t pay my rent, and I can’t afford food.”

She waits for him to say something mean like ‘you clearly look like you can afford food ’, but instead, he thinks critically on her situation for a moment. “Do you have a partner, children?”

“No.”

Then who hit you. “Get a roommate.”

It’s so simple, and so easily slides from his mouth, and she can’t believe she didn’t think about it before. A roommate could help her afford rent, especially in New York where it is obscenely high. And she could ask for first months, which would give her half the payment she needs while waiting for her own supply of money. Perhaps a portion would delay eviction.

She stares at him. “That’s actually a great idea.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I have those.”

She laughs again, but there’s humor back in it. “You shouldn’t be in prison, John. You should be an advice counselor.”

“That’s what I keep telling them, but I don’t think they’re listening.” His dry humor makes her giggle harder, enough that the security guards glance over at them curiously.

He’s tried more than his share of addictive substances, and her laughter is quickly becoming one of the sweetest to invade his senses.

“No, really, you’re a genius, thank you for that. And I forgive you.”

He just hopes she can pick someone who’s not a scumbag, but based on her judge of character so far, that’s highly unlikely. Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested it.

“Good. Now I can live with myself.” She thinks he’s joking but the only funny thing about it is he’s really not.

[msweebyness]

Theater Kids At Pride

And here it is! The last part of the saga! Enjoy, the theater kids are ready for Pride! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

Recess

Science

Akuma

Missy: The ACE Shark Warrior🦈

She/Her, AroAce

Proudly showing off her shark teeth to the world, uses them to freak out protestors

Cosplays as Sharkboy and has learned the entire “Dream Dance”

Shark buddies with Austin Q, and they geek out together

Takes the time to patch up people who get hurt dealing with protestors. She has bandages and wraps in the colors of various Pride Flags

Everyone calls her “The Battle Nurse”

She’s beaten up too many attempted drink-druggers to count, she can see the signs from a mile away

Wears her ACE flag around her head like a bandana

Has led ‘raids’ on protestor groups

Jesse: Protect The Baby at All Costs!👶🏽

He/Him, Bisexual

This precious shy boy comes out of his shell during Pride, and it’s glorious

He lets Eri do his makeup and he looks absolutely gorgeous, has everybody simping. He always paints Bi Flag Hearts on his cheeks

Is Adrien’s brother in constantly getting distracted by things and wandering off. It sends the other 2/3 of the Broadway Baby Trio into a panic every time

Mylene: HE WAS JUST NEXT TO ME! WHERE THE HELL DID HE GO?!/Jean: I TOLD YOU NOT TO LOOK AWAY FROM HIM AROUND THE SPARKLY STUFF! HE HAS NO IMPULSE CONTROL!

Will get up on stage and belt a Broadway tune on a moment’s notice. People are shook by how powerful this boy’s voice is

Will occasionally cosplay as his favorite characters, he stunned everyone with an amazing Fizzarolli cosplay. (He even sang 2 Minutes Notice!)

Can occasionally convince Anthony to sing with him, and it’s amazing

Ayesha: The Pansexual Sunbeam☀️

She/Her, Pansexual

Dresses like a walking Pan flag, Marinette made her a bedazzled cape

She carries around WAY too much glitter, she becomes a walking disco ball

Her anthems are “The Smile Song” and “Raining Sunshine”

Endless hugs for the kids who had to sneak out of their houses, she’s adopted 12 at this point

Always leaves the parade with at least three dates lined up, people just can’t resist her

Eating ALL the Skittles. They’re the gayest candy.

Makes Chibi animatics of all her friends at Pride, they’re adorable

Everybody is hot, so she’s constantly simping

Dot: I Made the Schedule, and We Will (Maybe) Follow It!⏱️

She/Her, Demiromantic Bisexual

Wears a Bisexual pin on her lapel, and ties her hair back with a demiromantic flag. She keeps it professional

This girl can rock a brightly colored pantsuit

Promoted to parent friend since Candace and Soo-Yeon are off duty. Everyone has their GPS on!

This close to buying one of those rope-handhold chains for kindergartners

Unintentionally making all the girls simp because she’s so tall and gorgeous

Has bags full of healthy snacks that she knows each of her classmates like. They still need to keep up their nutrition

Somehow knows what everyone is up to and keeps them from getting in trouble

Petra: Let’s Paint The Town Gay🎨

She/They, Demigirl, Aromantic Pansexual

How can one human being wear so many colors?

Does a caricature booth every year, and is insanely popular

Occasionally helps Nath at his facepainting booth

Gives out rainbow bead necklaces and bracelets because they have an endless supply

Has been going to Pride with her dads since birth, and fell in love with it

Paints Pride murals for various businesses throughout the month

Will throw glitter paint at protesters if they won’t shut up

Is an absolutely amazing wingwoman and can get you a date in minutes

Anais: The Mad ScientACE🧪

She/They/It, Demigirlflux, AroAce

Makes smoke bombs that explode in the colors of different Pride flags

Hair died in AroAce colors, sticking out in all directions

Cosplays as Mad Scientists from various forms of media, especially anime. Dr. Franken Stein was a favorite!

Goes completely nuts, this is the one time of the year they don’t burden themselves with what her mom thinks

Supplies all the energy drinks, no one knows where it found ones with THAT much caffeine

Will go full LGBTQIA scientist on any ignorant protesters who are stupid enough to approach her

Roxie: The Asskicking Theyby We Should All Fear👊🏼

They/Them, Pansexual

Has knuckledusters in the colors of the pansexual and nonbinary flags and is not afraid to use them

Gets into fistfights with violent protesters daily, and sends them running away with their asses thoroughly kicked

Gets so flustered whenever someone flirts with them, because why does this happen so often?

Has too many shirts that threaten TERFs to count. Some people say they can turn one to stone with a glare

Can and will benchpress anything

Once vandalized a protester’s car after they tried to assault a trans boy, nobody ever figured out it was them

Has been adopted by the Dykes on Bikes

Anthony: The Shadow of Gayness🌑

He/Him, Gay, Demon of the shadows

Scaring the everloving shit out of protesters with a single stare

Still decked out in black, but he’ll add a rainbow scarf, and some colorful makeup

Simps so hard over his boyfriend singing

Will deck anyone who looks at Jesse the wrong way

When protesters accuse him of being a ‘Satanist’, he responds “Yes, and?”

Will carry his boyfriend at any opportunity

His anthem is anything Evanescence

Writes super morbid and gay poetry, the goth drag queens have claimed him as their own

Eri: The Witch You Could Not Burn🔥

She/Her Polyromantic Pansexual, Witch

Decked out in a full gothic ballgown accented by Pan flags wherever possible, including a full on velvet cloak of one

Does the class’ makeup, and everyone absolutely slays

Reenacts famous scenes from gothic theater, the Drag Queens adore this girl

Has called down hexes on protesters, who swore they actually heard thunder…and some of their houseplants died

Fog also appears around her out of nowhere, as do cats. She might actually be a witch

Adopting all the lil goth pride kids, she has an army now

Every once in a while, she’ll pull a Shining twins act with Anthony to scare some people

Knows any and all Hex Girls songs by heart and will sing them if she so pleases

She’s cosplayed as each member

Candace: Mom-Friend off Duty, return all kids to Dad-Friend📣

She/Her, Heteroromantic Asexual

The one time of the year she’s not the responsible one, and she’s making it everyone’s problem.

Has pompoms, hair ribbons, and face paint in the ACE flag colors.

Death drops and round-offs are ✨flawless✨

Brings a megaphone and makes up cheers to taunt protesters

Candace: 2, 4, 6, 8, only pricks and douchebags hate! 4, 3, 2, 1! Your wife is here, she’s having fun! GOOOOO, fuck yourselves!

The Drag Queens have unofficially adopted her

She will buy you a binder no matter the cost. She’ll buy anything within reason for you, really.

Eats WAY too much cake and drinks WAY too much soda

Soo-Yeon: Nope, Dad on break, too. Kids, go find the babysitter!🏀

He/Him, Biromantic Asexual

Proudly wearing a Jason Collins jersey, signed by the man himself

Victoria is willing to pay him for just the opportunity to touch it

Has a basketball in ACE flag colors, and has a TikTok account of him doing trick shots

He has over 3k followers

Drinking all the OJ, he loves that shit

Looming ominously over protesters

Will carry you on his shoulders so you can see the floats

Has cussed out a TERF in furious Korean, and thrown a perfectly aimed basketball at their head

Margo: There’s Enough Love for Everybody!💞

She/Her, Lesbian, Polyamorous

WILL wear her lesbian flag sweater no matter how hot it is

Passes out hand-knitted scarves in the colors of various Pride flags

Can hold multiple people on her shoulders at once, Reshma and Lacey both simp

Part of the Disney Princess Cosplay Squad, she blew everyone away with Elsa

Can throw a protester out the club while never losing the same happy smile

Has a DIY crafts channel where she makes Pride accessories, she has over 5k followers.

Gives possibly the warmest hugs in the entire world, open to anyone who asks

Staci: The Sane One…Until Caffeine😈

She/Her, Trans Girl, AroAce

Relatively calm and stable…until she downs about four of Anais’ energy drinks

She becomes Ismael’s sister in the Trans forces of chaos

She sneaks onto at least five floats, and pelts protesters with water balloons from a high vantage point

An absolute menace in the glitter wars, no one is safe

Has stolen TERFs’ car keys and will do it again if she feels like it

Hugging all the trans kids that had to sneak out. She’s TP’d a few homophobic parents’ houses

Parker: Troops, We March At Dawn!🪖

She/Her, Demiromantic and Demisexual

Whipping out all her self-defense and combat training on unruly protesters. She is now universally feared

Demi Flag colored camo all day every day

Brings her three massive dogs, Chief, Sarge and Boone, with Pride flag camo bandanas, and everyone fusses over them

No one on the planet can beat her in a push-up contest. No one

Teaches self defense to the kids at Pride. Everyone should know how to fight back

Mini glitter grenades. Don’t ask where she got them

Brecken: The Queerest Cowboy in the West🤠

He/Him, Bisexual

Making an impossible number of people simp with his accent

His cowboy hat is the colors of the bisexual flag, as are his cowboy boots and oversized belt buckle

Has lassoed some asshole protestors before and will do it again

Also has everybody simping over his muscles, he tears his sleeves every year

Will carry (or benchpress) anyone if they ask

Simping so hard over his GF, tells anyone and everyone he’s dating her

Has done drag, absolutely slayed

Has also been coming to Pride since birth, with his moms

Nearly died of happiness when someone brought a mechanical bull

Hugs for everybody, all you need to do is ask

Aggie: Lesbian William Wallace⚔️

She/Her, Sword/any weapon really Lesbian

Aggie: They may take my life…BUT THEY WILL NEVER TAKE MY LOVE FOR WOMEN!

Paints her face Highland Warrior style with the colors of the lesbian flag

Cusses out protestors in Gaelic and chases them with her club (Don’t ask where she got an actual club)

Wowing crowds and making people simp with skateboard stunts that defy the laws of physics

Gets into a parkour competition with at least four other people

Once brought a picture of her uncle and brought home at least twelve new numbers for him. It’s actually how Rohan met his boyfriend.

Also making people simp with her accent

Merida is her queen and you know she’s done the cosplay, complete with a giant stuffed bear

Simps every time a tall and pretty girl walks by

Mona: The Knight Who Says “Gaaaay!”🛡️

She/They, Demigirl, Pansexual

Lets her closet medieval obsession come out full force

Comes out in a full suit of armor with a Pan flag cape, and chases protestors in their wheelchair with a lance

Dropping Monty Python quotes left and right

Makes video compilations of all her friends at Pride every year

‘Accidentally’ running over TERF’s feet with her wheels

Thinks it’s the cutest when little kids ask them questions about the chair

Constantly getting lost because she zoned out or was busy daydreaming

Cosplaying as gay movie icons

Evie: The Bisexual Siren We All Want but Can’t Have🎤

She/Her, Bisexual

Belting out gay power ballads with the voice of an angel and the confidence of Lady Gaga

People seriously cry when this girl sings and she’s been offered and asked to do countless gigs and shows

Every year she wears a bejeweled Jalisco dress in the colors of the Bi flag, of course with a matching parasol, which she uses to fend off protestors

When she’s not slapping them with her gloves

No one messes with her man. If anyone tries to hit on Brecken, she will walk right up and kiss him. And won’t stop until they leave

Cusses out protesters in the calmest but most vicious Spanish ever, never once losing her composure no matter how pissed she is

Can flamenco in six inch heels, like an absolute queen

Turning people down left and right, but really nice about it…provided they’re respectful

Eloise: It All Adds Up to Queer🧮

She/Her, Biromantic Asexual

Whipping out statistics on idiot protesters like it’s no one’s business

Gets into a fierce Just Dance competition every year, and always wins

Cosplays as video game characters, especially anything from Kingdom Hearts

Usually has a bag full of gaming consoles, in case she gets overwhelmed

Always wearing a shirt with an LGBTQIA math pun, she owns more than she probably should

Is shockingly savage with people who get on her nerves

Makes sure her friends don’t go over budget

BONUS!!! Ondine: Your Buff Bisexual Mermaid Dream Come True🧜🏼‍♀️

She/Her, Bisexual

Winner of too many muscle flexing competitions to count

Woe to anyone who tries to arm wrestle this girl

Constantly making girls swoon by lifting heavy stuff

Will carry anyone if it looks like they’re tired

Slaying on the arms of her boyfriend and Queer Platonic Partner. (She and Kim take turns carrying Max bridal style)

Once cosplayed as Ariel, and six people fainted

The Cult of the Buff Mermaid Goddess may or may not exist

If any protester tries to touch her, they get thrown across the road

Has an amazing voice, and will belt out a Disney song if she so chooses

People would die just to be hugged by her

Hope you enjoyed the wonderful gayness! Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

[emma-m-black]

Sister Kent - Chapter Two

Ted Lasso/OC (Roy Kent's Little Sister) (FanFiction) - PG

Takes place in season one, the night the Roy goes to Ted's flat and talks to him (and gets offered peanut butter). Ted and Roy's little sister hit it off.

This is a rough draft as always and I wrote this to be 4 chapters. Hope you enjoy.

Author Master List

Read Chapter One

Chapter Two:

Juliet was sitting in the office of one Rebecca Welton. "Thank you again so much for this opportunity."

"Of course, you came highly recommended and you have family here. Makes you less likely to take off at some point, and then I'm not stuck hiring my fifth physiotherapist in two and a half years." Said Rebecca as she leaned back in her seat.

Higgens when to open his mouth to speak when a knock came on the door. "Bing-bong! It's biscuits o'clock." Turning herself Juliet brought her eyes to see Ted standing in the doorway, backpack on and two small boxes and a to-go cup in his hands.

"Higgins! You're back!" Ted said cheerfully as he entered the room and came to stand in the empty space between Juliet and Higgins.

"Yeah!" Replied Higgins.

"All right. Well, hey, I know I may be a little too old-school for some folks but I'm gonan say it anyway. Hell to the yeah." Ted then carefully handed one box over to Rebecca. "Here you go, boss. Those are yours."

"Thank you, Ted."

"And these are for Higgins. I had a hunch you were gonna be here." Ted then handed the second box over to Higgins.

"Yeah?"

"Actually, those were for Trent Crimm's daughter. She turns three today. But it means more to me if you had 'em."

It took everything in her to not laugh as Juliet watched Higgin's face changed from one of happiness to horror. "What? No. No, no."

Ted waved his hand in the air and took a small step back. "No. It's okay. She won't remember."

From the little Juliet knew of Ted, she figured he had to be messing with Higgins, and that he would never deprive a little girl of cookies.

"Oh, Ted, you've already told her?" Said an exasperated but smiling Rebecca.

"Yeah, weeks ago. She's been looking forward to it. But she's three. She'll bounce right back. It'll be fine."

Higgins who was now shaking with fear looked to Juliet as if she was a life line. "No way. I can't."

Finally Ted let out a laugh and then the others followed. "I'm screwing with you. I'm just messing around." He patted Higgins shoulder. "I predicted this whole thing, and I made those myself for you."

An audible sigh left Higgins. "Oh. Thank you."

"Just like I predicted I should bring a cup of hot brown morning potion for Ms. Capulet." Ted held out the large cup to Juliet with a large smile. "A little birdy told me that you like one cream two sugar."

"Thank you, Montague." Juliet replied as she took the offered cup from Ted.

"What is happening?" Asked Rebecca, who was drifting her gaze between the two in question. "Do you two know each other?"

"I had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Kent last night." Ted motioned to Juliet with a smile.

Juliet responded with a quite chuckle and then looked from Ted to Rebecca. "He let me stick my finger in his peanut butter."

Rebecca's eyebrow raised and she looked between the two trying to figure out what she was missing from the conversation and if peanut butter was a euphemism for something.

"Do you mind if I steal Juliet here, I promised her I'd give her the old Ted Lasso tour of the grounds?"

"I was gonna have Higgins show her around but by all means Ted go ahead. Just be sure to come back before the end of the day and we will finish out the rest of the paper work.

Juliet stood from her chair and looked to Rebecca. "Thank you once again for this opportunity." She gave her dress pants an unconscious smooth and reached down to pick up her backpack.

"I hope it works out, I'm really am getting tired of hiring new physiotherapists." Rebecca responded with a laugh.

"Here allow me Milday." Ted said while holding out a hand in the direction of Juliet's backpack.

Figuring he was not the type to argue with she held out the extremely worn leather bag. Once the strap was in his palm he took the weight of it and gave a grunt as he let himself fall towards the floor slightly, then stood back up with a laugh. "I'm just messing with ya." Ted gave a laugh and then motioned for Juliet to follow him. "I can't wait to introduce you to the rest of the team."

Once the two of them were out of the room, Higgins turned back to Rebecca. "We don't think..."

"No." Rebecca said quickly, picking up her box of biscuits. She looked sure in her answer until her eyebrows scrunched together and pursed her lips as she stared back at Higgins.

"Neah." They both quickly said.

Ted opened the door to the physio room and allowed Juliet to enter first. "So this will be your new home away from home. I thought for sure that Phillip, who replaced Gail, who replaced Susan, who replaced other Phillip, who replaced Michael, was gonna stick around. Heck, I figured about our little cleansing ritual we would have expelled any of that negative energy."

"Oh you guys cleaned out the place?' Asked Juliet as she looked around the room.

"No like for reals. The recovery room was cursed by the spirits of all these dead solders."

Juliet looked back to where Ted was stood in the entry to the room and shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps I need to sacrifice something to the Richmond spirits too."

A large smile appeared on Ted's face at the genuine response from Juliet. "Your office is just behind there." Ted pointed towards a door with a large glass frosted window. "Did you wanna leave your bag there for the meantime. Phillip already cleared out everything for you and plans on just working from in here for the last little bit."

"Oh, sure. That was nice of him."

Opening the door to the office Juliet found a decent sized wooden desk housing a computer and a few boxes of random office supplies. A row of filing cabinets along was sat along one wall, and a large x-ray film viewer across the other. "So how long have you been doin' this for?" Asked Ted who had come to stand next to her in the room now.

"I graduated two years ago. After I got my degrees I got hired on at the clinic I had been interning at." Juliet took her backpack from Ted and laid it down on the top of the desk.

"Degrees?"

"I have a degree in Sports Medicine and Physiotherapy. I originally wanted to get into orthopedic surgery, but then I realized I preferred being pro-active to re-active. I find my enjoyment out of helping to create long term solutions as apposed to just cutting into someone."

Juliet looked up to Ted with a smile on her face. "Maybe it's silly, but I want to make a difference with the people I help, work with them, as apposed to just slapping a solution on them and never seeing them again."

"I couldn't agree more Juliet." Said Ted softly.

Unzipping her backpack Juliet reached inside and pulled out a soft brown crocheted plushy. Juliet sat the object down on the edge of her desk and settled the bottom of it so that it rested upright. Ted tilted his head slightly to examine the object. "Is that a potato?"

"It's my emotional support potato. Phoebe got it for me. I had been talking with my sister about being conflicted on what I wanted to do, and how I thought she would be disappointed in me. Think I was quitting, before I had even really started."

Ted leaned down to examine the white card that the potato's tiny arms were holding. "I may be a tiny potato, but I believe in you. Go do your thing. Good words to live by." Said Ted as he straightened up. "Come on, let's get you introduced to the rest of the gang, and then the real tour starts."

"Oh, the real tour. Feel like you are about to show me some magical wardrobe that takes me to another world."

"More like a door that leads to a very stinky boot room." Ted's nose scrunched up imposing the unpleasant expertise she was sure to have in only moments. "Oh hey, wanna play like you don't know your brother plays here?"

A soft giggle left Juliet before she moved around the desk and both her and Ted exited the room.

Making their way down the hall, Ted led Juliet into the managers office. When they entered through the doorway Juliet immediately noticed a man sitting on a cabinet fidgeting with his hands, and another man sat with his feet propped up on the top of the desk, book in hand.

"Coach Beard, our Kit Man Nathan Shelley, I would like to introduce the newest member of our team. Staring in the role of team Physiotherapist, Ms. Juliet Kent."

The man with his feet up immediately dropped his book down from in front of his face and looked her over, with a slight squint. "Kent?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Said Juliet with a smile.

"Kent?"

"Yup." Replied Ted.

"Kent..." The man in the desk said again as he pointed out into the locker room. "Like the footballer Roy Kent, of the Richmond Hounds, Roy Kent?"

"OH MY GOD, this is the Richmond Hounds isn't it? My bother plays here!" Juliet all but shouted, her hands came up to cover her mouth in surprise and her eyes went wide.

Ted let a laugh slip from his lips, and slowly Coach Beards face changed to that of realization. "I thought you were an Emergency Doctor?"

"That's the other sister." Said Juliet.

"I didn't know Roy Kent had another sister." Spoke Nathan from beside her. "Umm, Ted, can I talk to you a moment."

"Sure thing."

Ted and Nathan left the room, leaving Juliet alone with Beard. "So Coach Beard, before Ted get's back wanna make up a secret handshake?"

"You're crazy will fit in here just fine." Beard placed his book down on the desk and look at Juliet with an evil smirk. "And yes, always yes."

By the time Ted and Nathan had come back into the room, Beard and Juliet were putting the final touches on their handshake, and quickly separated once they had company. "Did yawl just make up a secret handshake already?"

"No." Replied Juliet and Beard at the same time.

"Hmm, I see how it is." Said Ted with a smirk.

Chapter Three

[itstheoneshot]

Kinktober Day 24

BDSM / Rough Sex - Wang Yibo

!dom Yibo

You were a match made in heaven.

Or hell, maybe…

Depending on what you defined as a sin.

He was a sadist. You, a masochist.

Fulfilling each other's desires was so easy for you both. Whips, paddles, restraints, punishments and aftercare, you had and did it all.

“Doll,” Yibo growls at you, his grip on your hair is tight as he tilts your head back to give him access to your neck, “I think you need a punishment today.”

You get chills at the threat, already feeling heat rush to your core. You had been especially painful today, making every errand that you ran together almost impossible. You couldn’t quite articulate what had you in such a mood, but god, every move you made only upset your boyfriend further.

“Punish me,” You dare him, “I deserve it.”

Yibo doesn’t need to be asked twice, dragging you to the kitchen counter and easily bending you over it. You whimper as you feel him hitch your skirt up over your hips, exposing your ass to him, clearly visible as all you have on underneath is a thong.

“Like this?” He asks before bringing his hand down with a sickening crack.

You reflexively move forward, your hipbone hitting the marble counter with force enough to bruise. You feel yourself arouse so quickly, and spread your legs in an indication for more.

“Please, ge,” You beg him, “More, make me sorry.”

Yibo spanks your ass again, three times for good measure before he presses his hand to your core. Your panties stick to you with your wetness, and Yibo groans as he feels it for himself.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” He comments, lifting his hand to spank you directly on your cunt, “This isn’t a real punishment for you, is it?”

You wiggle your ass for him, shockwaves tearing through you from the most recent spank. It is true, the harder that he goes, the more that it turns you on, it really is a mission to make you feel bad.

“I am,” You agree with him, “But you like me like this, don’t you?”

His fingers hook under the elastic of your thong, and he tears them down your legs. He drops to his knees, at the perfect height to inspect your dripping wet pussy in front of him. You spread your legs a little further, standing up on your toes to give him a better view, and he leans in to breathe hot and heavy on you, his tongue darting out of his mouth just enough to taste you.

“My perfect slut,” He murmurs, licking the wetness that drips from you before he stands up, “You drive me fucking crazy.”

You glance back at him over your shoulder, a devilish grin on his face, and you are sure that yours looks just as evil. Yibo allows you to straighten up and turn around to face him, and your hands race to unbutton his jeans and roll them down his perfect legs.

“Harder,” You say, “I want you to fuck me, ge. But I want toys, I want to be screaming for you.”

You aren’t often so forward, but maybe the adrenaline from the harsh spanking that you just received was enough to get your brain working along with your body.

“I can do that,” Yibo nods, taking your hand to lead you from the kitchen and down the hall to your… playroom, “You know that I can do that.”

The room is immaculate, it is the neatest in the house. The bed in the centre is freshly made and inviting, and the walls are lined with every sex toy and device imaginable. It would be almost impossible to pick a toy, but you don’t have to worry, as of course Yibo will be the one doing the deciding. You have asked enough already, your quota of requests is all out.

“How does this look?” He asks, holding up your favourite paddle. It is black, with a heart shaped hole in it, and you love the way that it bruises you.

You smile at him, not saying a word as he guides you over to the bed. You obediently bend over his lap, ready to take another spank, and you are surprised and in shock when he stops at only one, though this is so much harder than his hands were, and the cry that leaves your lips is pitiful.

“I have another idea,” He murmurs, leading you to lay down on the bed as he stands up, “I think I need you to shut up tonight.”

You stifle a laugh, not wanting to make this worse for yourself. Your eyes widen as a moment later you see what he was meaning, as he picks up a ball gag from one of the shelves and brings it back to where you lie.

“Good girl,” He praises you as you lift your head for him to buckle it into place, “Now I don’t have to hear you anymore.”

You try to protest, of course to no avail, and instead you submit wholly to him. You watch as he strips his clothes from his body, and he returns to his position between your thighs. You want to talk to him, but you know that there is no escape now. He is going to take from you, and you are going to love it.

———

Kinktober Masterlist!

[gaydennisreynolds]

fuck it we post homoerotic basketball scene. macdennis sexual tension draft, 910 words, just silly self-indulgence

“You’ve got h-o-r,” Mac laughs in between gasps of breath, hands on his knees, grinning up at Dennis like he just invented comedy. “You know, because you’re a–”

“Shut the fuck up, idiot,” Dennis says, but he smiles back despite himself, passing the basketball to Mac with more force than is strictly necessary. It bounces off Mac’s bicep and earns him a string of inventive curses while Mac trots after it, stopping it with his foot and balancing awkwardly on one leg as he tries to grab it before it can roll further away. Dennis snorts at the sight--Mac is such a tryhard fucking loser--and like he can hear inside Dennis' head, Mac shoots him a glare with no real heat behind it. Mac scoops the ball up, flexing his biceps unsubtly, and dribbles it back across the basketball court, eyes squinted the way they do when he gets all laser-focused and intense, and he shoots Dennis a cocksure grin before setting up a shot which he spectacularly misses.

Dennis turns away so that Mac can’t see the laughter shaking through his body at the crestfallen look on Mac’s face. They’re having a good time, which can be hard to come by these days, and Dennis doesn’t want this moment to explode into thrown punches and split lips like it did last time. When he’s composed himself, he accepts the pass Mac offers and makes his shot from the three-point line, not passing up the opportunity to shoot Mac a smarmy smirk and waggle his eyebrows.

“I believe you get an E if you miss, dude,” Dennis says with fake pleasantry, as though he thought Mac needed help keeping score. “How would it reflect on you to lose your fifth game in a row?” he continues, just for the sheet pleasure of watching Mac start to get a little mad. 

"Give it here, fucker," Mac demands, and Dennis complies, biting down hard on the inside of his lip to keep his mouth from twitching up into a smile. Mac sets up his shot, waits, breathes, prays, and misses--the ball flying a mile left of the goal, not even hitting the rim or the square. Dennis whoops. “Fuck,” Mac swears, with feeling, and scampers off after the ball. When he retrieves it, he trots back over to Dennis and gives him an appraising once-over.

“Sunscreen time, dude,” Mac says with conviction. Mac’s own face is turning pink and boyish in the sunshine, and Dennis can feel the heat licking at his shoulderblades; he knows better than to argue this point with Mac, or try to take a moment to gloat over his victory. He doesn’t want his skin to wrinkle under the force of the sun, either, and Mac takes protecting Dennis from sun exposure very seriously. It's easier just to nod an affirmation and walk back over to the bench, presenting Mac with his back.

It’s summer in Philly, hot as all hell, and the midday sun sends rivulets of sweat dripping down both their naked chests. Mac takes a second to wipe Dennis down with his towel – “The sunscreen needs a dry surface to sink into, dude, do you want skin cancer?,” Mac had said, rather aggressively, when Dennis had questioned him on it years ago – and Dennis closes his eyes and doesn’t try to hide how much he enjoys the slow, gentle strokes of the towel over his entire back. It’s like being a little kid again. Who wouldn’t enjoy being taken care of like this? And anyway Mac can’t see his face so it’s a victimless crime. When he hears the snap of the sunscreen lid, he sticks his hand out obediently for Mac to give him enough to cover his chest and arms with. Dennis rubs himself down while Mac starts in on his back.

Mac takes his time, massaging the sunscreen in as much as he can. He spends a considerable amount of time working out the tension in Dennis’ shoulders while covering them in sunblock, and kneading the sunscreen deep into the knot at the base of Dennis’ spine. Dennis slathers his front as well as he can with Mac being so distracting behind him, and when Mac steps back Dennis spins around to have Mac rub in any spots he missed on his chest. Dennis closes his eyes, more to avoid having to look Mac in the eye than anything else, while Mac rubs his pecs gently–to make sure the lotion doesn’t get stuck in Dennis’ chest hair, obviously–and trails his hand down Dennis’ happy trail to check for total absorption. The sun is beating down so hard that Dennis can feel himself flushing red.

When Mac is finished, they look at each other for a moment that crackles with something heavy, and without breaking the eye contact Mac passes Dennis the communal water bottle, their fingers brushing as Dennis reaches out for it. If Mac watches Dennis’ throat work when he swallows, and if Dennis does the same thing when it’s Mac’s turn to suck down some water, well, there wasn’t anyone around to notice.

Mac smiles at him so brightly he puts the sun to shame. “This game is definitely mine,” he declares confidently, waving Dennis off with a dismissive flap of the hand when Dennis mutters, “you say that every time."

Mac misses his shot so badly that the basketball flies clear over the fence surrounding the court and rolls into the street, where someone narrowly avoids running it over.

[pterodactylterrace]

I was thinking male r x Paul Bullion, a smut of some sort? Perhaps a morning sex? Nothing like umm strange or with any kinks or anything! Just a standard sexytimes tbh.

Thank you :)

Sorry this took a minute.

It’s a rare morning you’re up before Paul, but today seems to be your day. He is still out cold, snoring softly right next to you. It would be a crime not to admire such a view. His hair is mused and sticking up at odd angles, crowning him in flames. He always runs hot, so it’s no surprise he had kicked the blanket off at some point in the night. Then again, you have been called a blanket hog before…

This reveals another thing of beauty. Paul’s cock standing hard and proud between his powerful thighs, practically begging for attention. It only makes sense to reach out to touch it. You can tell the moment he wakes up, his entire body jumping when you make contact, though his eyes remain closed.

“Morning, handsome.” You purr up at him, voice still rough with sleep. 

“A good one at that.” Paul mumbles sleepily, his eyes cracking open to look down at you before slinging his arm over his face. “Please, carry on.”

“Maybe I wasn’t planning on doing anything. Maybe I just wanted to grab it with no other intentions in mind.”

“You’re a shit liar.” Paul half laughs, not bothering to move his arm to look at you again.

“It could happen.”

“And hell could also freeze over.”

“You can be so dramatic.”

“Learned from the best.” Paul shrugs, giving a quiet hum of approval when you slowly begin to stroke him. He surges upward and captures your lips in a soft, sweet kiss, one hand curling around the back of your neck to pull you closer.

It’s all easy for him to topple the pair of you over, not that you put up any fight over it. In the same movement he managed to reach the bedside drawer, pulling it open and grabbing the lube stored there. Seems you were in for a good morning indeed.

“Deep breath.” He coaches, a single slick finger pressing insistently at your entrance. It slides in all too easily, a low moan rumbling in your chest at the familiar sensation. It’s when he adds a second slick finger that he starts to get more serious, fucking you open on his fingers with more purpose. 

Lightning shoots up your spine when he crooks his fingers at just the right spot. You have to force your eyes open at that point, bliss urging you to keep them closed and just feel, but damn if watching him work you open doesn’t have your cock practically aching with desire. 

He adds a third finger, working in and out, slicking you up and stretching you out. 

“Paul.” You whine, writhing impatiently beneath him. You know you’re good with three fingers, even on his fat cock, though he prefers to prep you more diligently.

“Yes?” He purrs, curling his fingers again just to watch your cock jump in pleasure. 

“Fuck me.”

“Who said I was going to fuck you? Maybe I just wanted to prep you with no other intentions in mind.”

“Paul!”

“Well since you asked so nicely.” He chuckles, pouring more lube into his hand and giving his cock a few slow tugs, making sure it’s well coated before gripping himself by the base and lining up with your slicked hole. 

“Deep breath.” He reminds again, pressing insistently against you. There is some resistance at first before he slowly sinks inside you. 

You grip onto his shoulders at the familiar stretch, wiggling impatiently when he doesn’t move right away. He never does. He’s always worried about hurting you, so he always insists on letting you adjust first. No matter how many times you assure him that he isn’t hurting you.

He moves finally, finally drawing himself back and then pushing back in, his cock pressing deliciously against your prostate. 

“More. Faster. Just fuck me.” Paul does not need to be told twice. He begins fucking you in earnest, low moans falling from his parted lips in a constant stream. 

It’s when his hand, still slick with lube, finds your cock that you cry out. It’s all so good. He knows just how to play your body while also taking his own pleasure. Your eyes lock on his lust filled hazel eyes and he smiles down at you, sweat breaking out along his brow as he continues to plow into you while also stroking your cock.

You cry out wordlessly when he squeezes the head of your cock just right, bucking up into his fist while his own cock continues to knock against your sweet spot. 

Release finds you quickly and suddenly. Paul gasps when you clamp down on him while you spill over his fist and your own stomach. You can tell from his desperate rutting that he was almost there himself. You bear down on him again and he groans out your name while he cums deep inside you. 

“Good morning, My Love.” Paul pants down at you, a lazy, goody smile plastered on his sweaty face.

“Yes it is, Paul. It’s a very good morning.”

[peridotsarelongterm]

DeForest Kelley, Steve Canyon, “Operation Jettison” (1958)

I have to imagine the conversation between the producer and casting director here went something like this:

Producer: Ok, we need a really, really good-looking guy to dress up in a hypermasculine costume and look incredibly hot while being barely visible because of terrible lighting. You know anyone like that?

Casting: *Turns off The Law and Jake Wade and cracks knuckles* Boy, do I. 😏

[primofate]

Genshin x fem!reader [Volleyball Team AU - Inspired by Haikyuu!] Manager reader gets hit on/harassed

Note: IM BACK FROM VACATION I recommend you read “How it’s like to be their manager” first before this one. Gives it a lot more perspective :)

Scenario: During an away game at another school, you catch the eye of a senior there. Little did he know that you’re the Genshin team’s manager and how much trouble he just caused for himself. 

Warnings: SEXUAL HARRASSMENT but still SFW, swearing, profanities, fighting. platonic relationships.

Characters: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Tartaglia, Kazuha, Xiao, Tohma, reader as the team manager

Other works in the Volleyball Team AU Series: Click Here

Lost.

It was like one of your traits. Getting lost easily. You sigh and look left and right to see if anyone was in the hallways to help you get back to the gym, or at least give you directions.

“Those guys...are gunna be worried if I don’t get back soon,” you sweatdrop a little and laugh nervously, picturing your childish team just losing it when you come back late. “I better hurry,” you mutter to yourself, pace quickening the slightest bit, just as a door to one of the classrooms slide open with a thud, revealing a spiky haired guy who stares and blinks at you. You take that opportunity to ask the guy where the gym is. 

Back at the gym where the team is doing warmups and practice receives, Tartaglia starts getting antsy and annoying. “Where’s Y/N-chan~~?” He sways back and forth. Zhongli sighs at his middle blocker, “She’ll be back soon, she just went to look for a vending machine,” They still had an hour to go before the practice match, so Zhongli wasn’t that worried. 

“Hmmm? It’s--HIT--been a while--HIT--since--HIT--she’s been back --HIT--though--HIT,” Kaeya states. Sentence cut off in pieces as he tries to keep the volleyball up in the air, his tied up blue hair starting to stick to his neck because of the sweat. Still, the team keeps practicing, up until 10 minutes later when even their captain starts to get antsy. 

“...Captain, don’t hide it, just admit you’re worried for her too,” Tohma states with a harmless laugh. Zhongli muses and finally sighs, “I have to stay here. Someone else go and look for her,” and immediately seven hands are in the air.

Tartaglia waves his hand “Me, me!”

Kaeya raises his hand “I’ll go!”

Diluc does too “I can do it...”

Albedo follows “I remember the layout of the school,”

Kazuha volunteers “I’ve got good instincts,”

Xiao gingerly picks his hand up “I’ll bring her back fast,”

and finally Tohma’s hand is high in the air, “I’ll find her!”

Of course everyone wanted to go... Zhongli decides he doesn’t want to deal with it and tells his team to go with rock paper scissors. Watching them battle it out really made him wonder how the hell he kept this team together. 

“YES!” Tartaglia pumps his fist in the air as he, Kazuha, Xiao and Tohma win the simple round of rock, paper, scissors. Kaeya, Diluc and Albedo are silently sulking, but continue their practice. “We’ll be back soon!!” Tohma waves at them as they exit the gym, starting their search on the ground floor classrooms.

Back where you were, you’d been following the guy for at least 2 minutes now. He said he’d lead you to the gym...but...it seemed as if there was less and less people to wherever he was taking you. It was the ground floor, at the end of the hallway where lockers lined both side of the walls. Suddenly the guy’s hand is wrapped around your wrist and he pulls you towards him. You instantly resist, pulling your wrist back and keeping away from him. “I-I just want to go back to the gym, my team is waiting for me,” 

You steel your gaze at the guy. If he thought you were just going to stand there and take his blatant disrespect for your personal space, he was wrong. But his next move leaves you feeling disgusted, your skirt hikes up and he grins. “Stop!” you screech and twist your wrist away.

Tartaglia halts in his tracks at your familiar voice. His head turns just as his other three companions does. 

The scene unfolding before him makes. him. see. red. 

Hell, he doesn’t even see anything except the image of him punching that grin off of that guy’s face. His vision zones in on the bastard’s features, he strides over, in less than 5 seconds reaching towards the guy’s collar and slamming him on the nearest locker. “The hell do you think you’re doing?!” You’ve never seen him so angry before, but the realization of what happened has you cowering away, feeling like some dirty thing that was played around with. 

“Tartaglia, ease up!” Tohma runs to try and restrain Tartaglia’s arms. He shoots a look at Xiao who immediately turns around to get the rest of the team, particularly his captain. Kazuha strides over to you, watching as you faced away and looked at the ground, ashamed. 

Kazuha was never one to resort to violence, nor was he particularly a resentful guy. But he feels it. He feels the hatred rush through his veins, but he focuses on you instead. “You’re alright, Y/N,” he places a hand on top of your head and smooths your hair down just as the others arrive. 

Tohma is barely holding on to Tartaglia, his strength matches his fury, but Diluc finally arrives and together with Tohma, successfully pulls Tartaglia away from the guy. 

“Calm down,” the red haired spiker insists, to which Tartaglia only shouts, eyes engulfed in fury and piercing the offender with his gaze. 

“This fucker touched Y/N!” 

Zhongli, Kaeya and Diluc freeze at the news. Their heads slowly turn towards the attacker. 

And now all set of 8 eyes on him are menacing, cold and unforgiving.

How dare he.

But Diluc holds his ground, restraining Tartaglia. 

Zhongli’s head turns towards your frame, seemingly meek and tiny and tears pooling around your eyes. 

Xiao hurries next to you as he arrives, the displeasure on his face was immense, specially when he starts wiping off the tears cascading down your cheeks. He grits his teeth “Don’t waste your tears on someone like him,” he knew well that you must have felt ashamed, and that your tears were not something you could control, but it was the best thing he could say. 

It was Kaeya, unrestrained and gurgling with hot anger that lifts his fist up.

But it was not his fist that connects with the offender’s jaw.

It was not his hands that pulled the offender up by his collar once again.

And it was not him who states “Do not come near her again. Don’t even look at her,” 

The whole team freezes. 

It was their captain.

The captain that was always calm and collected. Who always tried to stop fights and apologize for the inconveniences that his team caused. There’s a shiver that runs up the member’s spines at the feral look on their captain’s face. 

And then he drops the guy on the ground once again. The offender panicking and crouching backwards and away from them. “We should report it to someone,” Albedo, sensible and smart as ever, suggests. “...but throwing a few more punches in doesn’t seem so bad...” he adds and narrows his eyes at the guy.

“No, don’t. Let’s not waste our energies,” you firmly say and wipe the remaining tears away from your eyes. Kaeya moves over to your side and slides his jacket off of him and places it around your shoulders. “Okay, princess, whatever you want, we’ll just drop him off at the principal’s office and make a report,” when it really counted Kaeya’s flirtatious nicknames for you were quite reassuring. You smiled up at him a little.

Zhongli passes another glance at you, his fist is still tight next to him but he hoists the guy up and has Tartaglia come with him, since he was the one who saw everything. 

The rest of the team turns to you, with Tohma taking your hand and leading you back to the gym. “You’re okay, Y/N, we’re here,” and sure enough they keep close enough to you to fend off anyone else. Like wolves protecting their pack. You knew the chances of that happening again was slim, but seeing them so concerned and circled around you like a shield was really what you needed right now. 

“...Thank you,” you whisper to them as you arrive at the unfamiliar gym. They all turn back to you with a smile. 

“We’ll beat them to the ground at this game, Y/N, you’ll see,”

Taglist: @softlybeloved @bobaducky @normalisthenewnorm @how-simpy @atasi-luna @berryqueue @hallohun @milkypompon @fadinganchornight @coldstonecrematorium @probablybethere @hanachan_2481 @gultonluvv @batcatistruemaster @plumpkie @amigenshin @foxxtrot-116 @spirlimpo @hadesaedes @minyoustar @yunaholics

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[astroboots]

SUMMERTIME RAIN

Summary: Santiago, you and Frankie go to the beach to get away from the heatwave in Florida and somehow end up caught in the rain.

Rating: really fucking explicit

Warning: Polyamorous relationship, m/f/m, cum eating, hint of voyeuristic sex, desperate dry humping, indulgent porn without plot, with a garnish of angst for flavoring but coming from me it's really not that bad at all.

Word Count: 4.8k

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

There’s a heatwave spreading across Florida that is making all of you miserable. It is a special kind of hell when Florida gets hot. Humid and damp, the heat wraps around Santiago’s limbs like a heavy old blanket that he cannot shake off no matter how many ice cold showers he takes. 

It’s Sunday and all three of you are irritable. The AC has broken again. There’s not a single cool spot in the house. You can barely get any work done in the heat. Frankie can’t step a foot into the garage, because the floor is a grilling hot plate. Santiago? Santiago is hot and bored, lying draped across the couch trying to escape the worst of the heat. Santiago’s pretty sure that if he cracked an egg on the cement, it would sizzle and cook within seconds. If he ever takes on another private job, he’s going to make sure it’s in the coldest parts up in the Himalayan mountains. 

From across the room, there’s exasperated grumbling, followed by heavy books being slammed down against the surface. Santiago rises to his elbows, to see you standing over the dining table. You’re practically fuming and he can’t tell if it’s because you’re pissed off or just so overheated, or maybe pissed off because you’re overheated.

“I can’t take this, even the table is burning hot.” You’re staring down at the wooden surface like it committed a war crime against your family. “Let’s go to the beach!”

Frankie and him both perk up at the idea. Never mind that the whole of Florida state is probably of the same thought and already flocking to the beach, which is a recipe for crowded misery. Santiago doesn’t care. His brain has been rendered mush by the heat. All he can think of now is the cooling sensation of being submerged in cold ocean water. 

The three of you topple into the car, and you blast on the AC as far as it goes, leaning over the panel of the car to get blasted by the cooling air. Overheated as he is, Santiago doesn’t even have the energy to gripe with you about how unfair it is for you to hog the AC. All he can think about is his salvation from the heat once you all reach the ocean water. 

And when you get to the beach— God, it is magnificent. It is the mirage of an Oasis that would be seen by a man amid a heat stroke, moments before he dies. The ocean is turquoise blue and sparkling crystal under the Florida sun. It’s glorious. 

But of course, because this is fucking Florida. Before he ever has the chance to even dip his toe into the water, grey clouds siege the skies from nowhere. Within seconds, the rain starts pouring down. Not a drizzle. It is pouring torrential rain. Like Florida is working its way up to a monsoon. The rain is whipping down so hard it is punishing. Pelting down and smattering against the skin until it almost bruises—and the three of you decide to give up and go back home. Frankie offers to run to the parking lot to get the car, while Santiago and you take shelter at a nearby bus stop to escape the worst of it. 

Not that it does much damage control. The two of you are already drenched from head to toe when you reach the flimsy shelter. Santiago is grumbling to himself, trying to wring the hem of his shirt of water. The wet fabric sticks to him heavily and is so damn uncomfortable. 

He looks up to see you peeling off your lacy cardigan. Fuck— your sundress has gone see-through.

It wasn’t exactly a demure dress before. It’s all white cotton that clings onto your curves in all the right places with a flowy skirt line. Every time a breeze flows through it, the fabric flutters around your calves. That motion never fails to make a dormant instinct in him spring to life, making him leap up and want to chase after you. Makes him gain a whole new appreciation for why the idiom for horny men is “skirt chaser”. 

The best worst (no best) part of this dress is the neckline. The top pushes your breast up and hugs them so closely it borders on the obscene in all the best ways even under normal circumstances. 

Now though, soaked as you are, the wet material clings onto every part of you. The white cotton has gone translucent enough that he gets a peek at the soft flesh underneath in a way that’s near-pornographic. 

It hasn’t escaped your attention either, because you look down your chin, horrified, and cross your arms over your chest to cover the worst best of it. And while Santiago wasn’t exactly objecting to the view, he’s also not a hormonal teenager. Your comfort is always going to take priority. 

He shrugs off his leather jacket, and swathes it around your shoulders, then wraps his arms around your torso from behind. 

“Better?” he asks, and you hum happily as you lean back into his chest, resting all your weight on him. 

“Much better. Thank you. It’ll stop the creep at the bus stop from staring at my tits.” 

You say it so casually that for a second Santiago whips his head around to look for the offender, but it’s just you and him here. It’s not until he hears you laughing that he realizes he’s the supposed creep. 

He smiles, burying his nose into your hair. “Can’t blame him though, they’re gorgeous.” 

Santiago never used to stare at your breasts. In all the years he’s known you he’s never stared at you in that way at all for that matter. It’s something he never allowed himself to even begin to think. Anything romantic and sex-related was sectioned and compartmentalized in a drawer to be filed away in the back of a storage room that he never touched. Because you’re his best friend, and he didn’t want to unleash Pandora’s box of horrors that is Santiago Garcia as a romantic partner on you. 

Couldn’t risk losing you when he eventually fucked it all up, the way he always did. But somehow he’s here, unable to keep himself away after all these years of running away to the ends of the earth. He spends every night in your bed, with you and Frankie draped across him until he’s fast asleep. And he hasn’t left this time. Hasn’t fucked it up yet

You smell of soft worn leather, his cologne, and your shampoo all mixed in and blended with the rain. Despite the clammy cold of rain seeping through the fabric into his skin, it warms him inside out with something that he doesn’t dare to look at too closely. How all these things amount to the one thing he’s never wanted to let himself think too loudly about you and Frankie: Mine.

From this angle, he can still see the lacey hemline of your dress peeking underneath his leather jacket. Fingering the side of his jacket, he draws it apart. He can see your nipples through the thin material of your dress, drawn up tight with the chill, and some-fucking-how it’s even sexier than when you’re naked. 

He’s fully expecting a playful rebuke from you, but instead, you cant your hips, pressing back against the front of his pants, and shit. Santiago damn near doubles over with the spike of lust that shoots through his gut. His dick gets hard so fast it’s fucking embarrassing, full mast and aching in seconds. Despite the cold damp saturating his clothes, this might be the first time he’s managed to compete with Frankie in that department. 

From around the corner, he can hear tires sloshing against the parking lot asphalt. The familiar sight of Frankie’s well-loved truck comes into view, stopping a few steps away from you. Close enough that you wouldn’t have to go through the rain. 

Stepping quickly to the truck, you throw open the car door, climbing in and Santiago follows closely behind. 

He can see Frankie's eyes shift from the road to the rear mirror. The dark rings in his brown eyes widen at the sight of your white dress. Santiago chuckles at that. At least he’s not the only one looking. Unlike Santiago though, Frankie isn’t in a proximity to do anything about it. Instead, he snaps out of it after a brief moment and continues to drive the car into the road. 

The warm air inside the car is a welcome reprieve. The two of you are freezing and goosebumps are prickling your flesh. Your hands are rubbing up and down your arms like you are gathering friction to kindle a fire under your skin. It makes your whole body shake with it accompanied by the soft bounce of your breasts as if they’re ready to spill from the hemline of your dress at any moment. 

You catch Santiago staring, and stop your movements as a small smile blooms on your face. 

“What?” you ask. It’s not accusatory, it’s welcoming and playful like you want him to look. 

And fuck does Santiago want to look, shit, he wants to do a lot more than just look. Unsnapping his seat buckle, he reaches across the seat. Santiago leans in, dragging his lips across the pillowy flesh of your chest while burying his nose into your neck. He inhales the clean, wet scent of you. You’re warm and soft under his mouth, all keen and wanting as you gasp at his touch in a way that shoots straight to his dick. 

He can see Frankie’s eyes flicker from the road to the two of you through the rear mirror. His hands are gripping tightly to the steering wheel, fingers flexing and creaking around the tight leather. The man is struggling to keep his concentration on the road. Santiago almost wants to keep going for Frankie’s benefit alone. Wants to give Frankie a little show that Santiago knows the man loves. But in all honesty, Santiago knows this is hardly something selfless, he’s doing this primarily for his benefit. 

He wants this.

Wants you. 

If he’s honest with himself, he knows now— he always has. 

He closes his eyes against the thought of how this is all bound to go wrong. How it will one day end up with him back off in Colombia or some other nameless place alone, because he's always been shit at romantic relationships. There is a slight hitch in your breath as his palms skims your breasts over the cold and wet fabric. Fingertips smoothening over the wrinkled cotton until the pad of his thumb scrape over your taut nipples. Rubbing and pressing and plucking at your nipples through the material until you’re moaning. 

The gorgeous sound has him hungry and ravenous and he lets himself lean into the hunger. Consumes and takes as much as he can, while he can. There’s a part of him that truly believes that one of these days he’ll wake up staring at the ceiling of a rundown motel room and can never come back here. 

One morning where he wouldn’t just be waking up to a world where the two of you would go back to just being friends, no it’s far too late for that. The second he’d followed the two of you up the stairs from breakfast, he’s already crossed that threshold of no return. And as perfect as all of this is, this domestic life he gets to share with you and Frankie, that gnawing terror never goes away completely. It still festers, the knowledge that one of these days he's gonna fuck it up somehow. 

One of these days, he’s sure of it, he’s going to fuck up so badly that he’s going to wake up to a world where you are no longer even friends. A world where you and Frankie don't speak his name, and pretend he never existed in your lives to begin with.

So he’ll take what he can, as long as you two will have him. 

Clicking your seatbelt, he pulls you into his lap, hooking one of your legs over him. Then Santiago yanks the top of your dress down far enough to get his mouth on the soft swell of your breast underneath. He kisses and sucks at the smooth flesh desperately, nearly frantic with his need to touch and feel and kiss every bit of you he can reach.

He’s so worked up, he doesn’t need much. Just being this close, feeling the thrum of your pulse on your throat underneath his mouth, nearly has him losing his mind with it. And thank God for that, because in this cramped space, there isn’t much space for the two of you to maneuver yourselves while the car is still in motion. All you can give him is that delicious grind of your lower body pressing down against his cock, trapped as it is in his pants. 

But it’s still good. Fuck, it’s better than good, it’s heaven. Santiago is pretty sure he can come like this. 

The car comes to a stop and before Santiago or you have a chance to look up and ask Frankie what’s wrong, the driver seat flings open. Frankie lunges out of the car with the door slamming shut behind him. 

Santiago grins— guess Frankie’s patience finally ran out. 

The rain is whipping against the windows on all sides. Santiago can barely see anything outside for how hard it’s coming down, just a blurry silhouette of Frankie’s broadness passing the window. 

There’s a metallic thunk, then the car door closest to you hurls wide open. Frankie’s standing in the pouring rain, climbing knee-first into the car seat. In the split second before the door slams shut, Santiago can make out past Frankie that the car’s been stopped on the side of a smaller secluded road, affording the three of you some modicum of privacy. Santiago is a bit impressed with that. Even in his horny addled state, Frankie had the foresight to minimize the risk of being interrupted by voyeuristic strangers. 

In the small space, Frankie’s build seems so much larger and more intimidating than Santiago’s used to in the broad daylight. His wide shoulders and broad arms fill the cramped space as he reaches over for you. It’s a good look on Frankie, his curls are wet, water dripping down and trailing down his cheek and bare throat. Dark heat clouds those normally warm and kind eyes of his, turning them into something sharp and untamed that thrills Santiago. 

Frankie’s practically lunging across the seat to pull you into a kiss. He tips your head backward, cradling your jaw in one big hand that spans from the tip of your ear to the edge of your chin. 

Not one to be left out, Santiago slides his hand down your ribs and over your chest, mouth paying unceasing attention to the side of your throat as he makes sure to bite down hard enough to make you moan wantonly into your husband’s mouth. 

And fuck, Santiago can see the flex of Frankie’s jaw as he kisses you slow and deep. From where Santiago’s left hand is trapped between the two of you, between your back and Frankie’s chest, he can feel Frankie’s groan as it rumbles against his palm. It's so fucking hot that Santiago thinks he’s going to go insane.

That infamous patience that Frankie is known for seems to run thin though. He can hear Frankie grumbling as he simultaneously tries to pull you into his lap while not trying to hit his head, and is unsuccessful on both counts. As big as the backseat of Frankie’s truck is, it’s still too small for you to perform acrobatic tricks and Santiago isn’t exactly helping when he refuses to let go of you. 

But that doesn’t deter Frankie in the slightest. He tries again, hooking his arms under your thighs, then lifting you. This time he manages to rearrange you until you’re sitting in Frankie’s lap with his chest pressed to your back, hooking his jaw against your shoulder to keep you in place. 

With you covering the man’s lap, Santiago doesn’t have the best view of the action. But he can hear the familiar metallic clink of Frankie’s buckle and the stuttered rasp of his zipper. That sound alone has Santiago’s cock aching from where it’s trapped underneath the constricting denim of his jeans. 

Frankie’s hurried and almost frenzied in his movement as he struggles to get his pants off. Gritting out a swear through his bared teeth, he fumbles with the wet fabric of his jeans trying to get his cock out. It’s a comical sight and the humor of it isn’t lost on you either as you’re practically wheezing with laughter at how incredibly clumsy all of this is. 

You try to stop, pressing your lips tightly together, but unable to hold in the laughter, and for a moment, Santiago pauses to take you in; how pretty you look when your eyes are crinkled with amusement. It lights up the car with it, the soft ripples of your breast as your whole body’s shaking with laughter. 

Then, Frankie finally manages to get his dick free and lines himself up against you from behind. Your laughter dies in your throat as he’s pushing inside. That amused expression melts into pure bliss and your eyes squeeze shut with concentration as you try to take all of Frankie. 

Santiago’s brain has stalled. All he can do is take in the scene unfolding before him. How Frankie’s cock glistens with your slick as he bucks up his hips to thrust deeper inside you. Frankie’s rougher than usual, his large hands gripping hard around your thighs, as he holds you open and spreads you for him. 

Your breasts bounce with each deep stroke, straining against the wet fabric and it’s a miracle the seams haven’t torn. It’s titillating and the sight of it punches the breath out of his lungs. Santiago doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. It’s not like he’s never seen your breasts before. Shit, he’s been eyeing up the way they look in your sundress all afternoon. But he’s never seen them like this.

“Fuck baby, so good, your tight perfect pussy feels so fucking good on my cock right now.” 

Fucking God, those gasps and little pleading noises of yours, coupled with Frankie’s mumbled praise go straight to Santiago’s already overeager dick. 

His hips hitch up involuntarily in a desperate search for any sort of friction, and he gasps at the pressure of his cock shifting against the fabric of his pants.  Fuck. Shit, what the fuck?  He feels like he’s already on the edge of coming, just from this.

The desperate noise he’s making has Frankie looking up at him from over your shoulder. He flashes Santiago that dark, sharp smile, the one that is reserved just for Santiago. “You need a little help with that?” 

Santiago can’t even answer him. There are no sharp wits or retorts ready on his tongue because it’s been tied into knots in his mouth. All he is capable of is thickly swallowing for air as he keeps his glazed eyes on you. 

“Baby why don’t you help Pope,” Frankie murmurs into your ear, and Santiago doesn’t miss the hint of glee in his tone at having the overhand, at having reduced Santiago to this brain dumb state. 

When you call out to him, your voice is breathless and keen and it has warm shivers run down his back. Your hand stretches out in an inviting gesture, voice soft and slurred, “c’mere honey.” 

It’s what finally makes his brain kick back into gear. Santiago shuffles over to you as your thumb fumbles with the rivet of his jeans. It slips on the first try, and fuck, he doesn’t have the patience for this. Grabbing your hand in his, he presses your palm over the hardened bulge and grinds into it. He’s rewarded with white blinding heat and electric pleasure that spears his stomach, and fuck, that’s good, that’ll have to do. 

His hips draw up, bucking up into your touch, eyes locked on the way your gorgeous tits bounce. He’s barely even registering the steady stream of expletives that he’s groaning out. With his hand wrapped around yours, he pushes it down for more pressure, making the sticky fabric grind uncomfortably. The friction is coarse, wet, and heavy against the sensitive head of his dick, but it’s still so damn good. 

His stomach draws in tight, and he doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s altogether too late as his cock pulses and a warm heat spreads across his back, drawing in tight over his spine. 

“Fuck, Boa, waitwait, I—” 

Searing hot cum spills inside his jeans. He moans desperately, shoving his face into your chest for escape. There’s a rush of heat that spreads all over him, it pours and pours until he’s lightheaded and everything inside him threatens to burst before it is replaced by rushes of electricity that skitters along his spine then settles over his back. Everything goes soothingly quiet except for a pleasant buzz humming between his ears, and your fingers running through his hair. 

When he comes back to himself, the first thing he sees when his vision sharpens into focus is your large, wide eyes looking back at him. He can’t quite read the expression on your face. Shock? Confusion? God knows because he’s a bit of both himself. Then slowly it occurs to him that Frankie’s looking at him too. 

Both of you have stopped, just staring down at Santiago with pure shock and something akin to amused surprise. 

You shoot him a teasing smile. “You alright there honey?”

“Did you—?” Frankie starts, and even without glancing at the mirror in the car, Santiago is pretty sure from the heat prickling his face that he’s gone beet red. 

“Must have liked what you saw, you barely even got to second base before you finished,” Frankie quips. 

The two of you are such fucking comedians about it. 

“Fuck you, Frank.” 

Frankie bursts into rumbling laughter, unable to hold back and you quickly follow until it’s a chorus of good-humored laughter and giggles in the car. For as much as Santiago’s sheepish and embarrassed at it, he can’t help shaking his head, laughing too. 

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up assholes. Like Mr. Eager Beaver over there has never blown his load too early,” Santiago retorts.  

As if on cue, Frankie’s big hands come to your front, cupping your tits and pressing them together. It’s such a goddamned sight, Santiago damn near whines as his dick twitches in a valiant attempt to get hard for you again.

Maybe it’s Santiago’s pride that refuses to take these loving insults lying down, especially when the two of you are smiling so widely. Maybe it’s the way he can still see the base of Frankie’s cock nestled inside of you underneath the skirt of your dress. But what is an absolute certainty is that if he’s gonna be coming faster than he had planned for, he’s gonna make sure that the two of you are going to follow closely behind. 

Sliding down the seat, Santiago’s knee digs into the sharp plastic of the floor in front of you. It’s a dumb decision considering his fucked up knees. There’s not a lot of room, but he still manages to elbow his way between your thighs, spreading your legs open with his shoulders before tossing the hem of the skirt up. Ducking his head under the bottom of your dress, he noses along the line of your inner thigh as they are pressed feverishly warm against his cheeks. He presses a kiss there before he parts his lips to mouth at the place you’re joined with Frankie. The contact makes you arch up with a sharp hiss and his name spilling from your lips. 

Frankie still isn’t moving, and while Santiago can’t see the man’s expression he can guess that it’s a stunned one with Frankie completely paused out. Skimming his hand along Frankie’s thigh, he slaps at it, hard, until Frankie yelps in surprise. “What’s taking so long Frank, you gonna fuck her or not?” 

There’s an irritated grunt from Frankie, but he still does as he’s told. His hips cants, lifting from the seat as his cock disappears into your perfect little cunt only to reappear again. 

Santiago smile, dragging his lips upwards, until he brushes up against your clit relishing at how you buck into his mouth at the barely-there touch. Teasing your clit between his lips, he sucks on it with a slobbery kiss until he can hear you whining and crying. Then, he pulls back to admire his work. 

The glistening thickness of Frankie’s girthy cock is dripping with your slick and Santiago's saliva. He wets his fingers between his lips before rubbing them over your swollen clit. Fuck, it’s so slick. Wet and dripping like honey for him. 

There’s a sharp cry spilling from you as your back arches like a strung bow towards his touch. 

“Fuck, fuck, Santi—aaaaaah, shit” before you can even finish stuttering out his name, Frankie thrusts up into you, long and hard. 

There’s something oddly satisfying to Santiago that even with your husband’s cock inside you, as you’re nearing your orgasm, you’re still calling out for him.  

“What is it, sweetheart? Need my mouth? Want me to lick that pretty pussy until you come all over Francisco’s cock?” 

He doesn’t wait for your answer, latching his mouth back on your dripping pussy. There’s no finesse to it. He’s tonguing and laving at whatever part of you he can reach. It’s almost clumsy and so incredibly sloppy. Santiago can’t quite manage the control he would usually like to have in this small space, all he can do is keep licking and sucking at your clit while Frankie fucks up and into you from underneath. 

But if your keen whines and the way your fingers are threading into his hair are anything to go by, you don’t mind the slightest. 

A much broader hand than yours comes to rest on Santiago’s shoulder. Frankie’s hand squeezes down hard as if he’s hanging onto Santiago for dear life. It tells Santiago he has the man right where he wants him. Poor Frankie’s probably seconds away from coming. 

“You gonna make our girl come, Frank?

There are no words in reply, just a deep guttural groan from Frankie, as his hips stutter into you. Santiago can’t see, but he can feel the frantic thrusts as Frankie’s hips lift and fall back down against the seat, fucking into you with growing urgency. There is no coordination to it anymore. And as always, Santiago can never resist making things just a little bit worse for Frankie. His mouth slides down until the flatness of his tongue is lapping at the hardness of Frankie’s thick girth where it joins you, and Frankie is whimpering. Fuck, that’s the most satisfying thing ever. 

It doesn’t take long at all, a handful of thrust and a high-pitched whine from you that tells Santiago you’re coming, and it’s joined by Frankie’s strangled sob. Frankie’s thrust pushes all the way inside until he’s buried to the root and then he stays there. Santiago gets an up and close view of Frankie’s cock pulsing and throbbing, while his tongue is still pressed up against the length, as your cunt flutters and spasms around it with your orgasm. It’s absolutely fucking depraved. 

You and Frankie are both quivering messes in the aftermath of your orgasms. Twitching at every tiny lick and kiss that Santiago presses to your pussy. It makes you squeeze around Frankie until he properly whines at the overstimulation. And even then, Santiago is adamant to expend a bit more attention with his tongue before he finally gives into your fingers pulling at his curls to get him to stop. 

Drawing away, he pushes himself up on his knees to climb back into the seat, letting you pull him closer to you by the back of his neck. 

His head dips down to close the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours, then he shifts until he has one of his legs nestled snugly between yours, the other pressing firmly against the outside of your thigh, needing the contact between you. Needs to have every inch of him touching you.  

In his haze, he distantly registers the warmth of calloused fingers catching against the inside of his wrist. It’s far too rough to be yours. Dragging his heavy-lidded eyes downwards, he catches Frankie weaving their hands together and Santiago closes his eyes, squeezing back at Frankie’s hand.  

Maybe in a few years from now, he’ll inevitably fuck up with you two. Maybe he’ll never get to have this again. But there’s a part of him that selfishly thinks that when he wakes up in a room somewhere in the middle of nowhere, all by himself, he’ll remember this moment and not regret a thing.

As his breathing calms, he realizes that the car is deafeningly quiet. There’s no sound of rain hitting against the glass pane. Looking out the window, Santiago sees why. It’s no longer raining. The windshield is clear as well. While the pouring rain may have shielded the three of you from curious onlookers, that might not be the case for much longer. But thank God there didn’t seem to be any passing cars at the moment cause his knees feel like gelatine and he doesn’t think he can move right now.  

Frankie is already reaching over for a dry shirt in the back of his car to cover you with, draping the soft flannel over your shoulders. There’s a twinge of disappointment in Santiago when Frankie covers you up. 

You catch what must be a rather mournful expression on his face because you immediately break into a bright and wide smile filled with amusement. Fingers draw down the sides of the shirt until it unravels the gorgeous swell of your breast again. 

Leaning forward, he mouths at the softness of it. It’s nothing like the frantic pacing of before, just a soft brush of his lips where the plump flesh spills over your hemline. 

When he hears the pleasant sound of your soft, exhausted laughter, his chest tightens and drips with something syrupy warm. His nose nuzzles further into you, unwilling to let this moment end just yet. He wants to stay for so much longer. 

You hum, head tilting to look behind Santiago. 

“The weather is fine now, we can always drive back to the beach.”

Santiago turns to follow your gaze. From the outside, it's sunshine and crystalline blue clear sky with not a cloud in sight.

Fucking Florida. 

 Credits and Dedications:

@thirstworldproblemss my one and my only, for always being one of my favorite people on this platform and on this blue planet. For the amazing time we've had plotting our own destruction the past week, for keeping me company in my wip documents. For always putting a smile on my face through good times and bad times and thank god that this week it's been a good one for the first time in a very long time.

[foreverindreamlandd]

Beach Day

Pairing: College!Bucky AU x Plus Size!Reader

Summary: The first line I wrote for this one was this: 

“Bucky sighs, then leans down to rest his hands on the arms of your chair and you look back up at him as he hovers over you with a smile on his face that makes your toes curl.’Y/n/n, you have five seconds to get out of that dress and into the water before I pick you up and toss you in, fully clothed.’” ;)

Beach days are always uncomfortable for you, especially when you decide to show off your new two-piece bathing suit in front of your friends. Your best friend and secret crush Bucky Barnes seems to like it more than you would have thought…

WC: 4.3k

Note: Fluff, a little bit of angst and self depreciation from the reader. Negative thoughts on body image. I know a lot of people said they liked how I wrote a love story with a plus size character in my To Be Wanted series and I tried to keep that honesty in this piece as well. It’s mostly just therapeutic for me and I hope it also helps some of you. Please be kind to yourself when reading. <3 

-----

“We should take a photo and send it to the casting directors of the new Baywatch movie or something. We’re missing out on millions letting this specimen go to waste.”

You lower your book and glance over at Natasha, then follow her eye line to the ‘specimen’ in question. Your best friend and descendant of Greek gods Bucky Barnes. 

It really isn’t fair how beautiful this man is. A six-foot body cut from marble, long locks of chestnut hair tucked behind his ears, eyes that matched the ocean he was currently diving into. 

What kills you the most is his smile, the most joyous and sexy smile you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Seeing him running around in just a swimsuit, tackling your friends in the water in a way that gives you a perfect view of the flexing muscles in his upper body, wet hair whipping around his face makes you glad that you’re sitting down in your beach chair. The free show you were getting has you so weak in the knees that you’re convinced if you tried to stand your legs would immediately give out. 

But, as always, you play it cool, feigning indifference toward your hot best friend. 

“Please,” you respond. “Imagine how cocky he’d get with an even larger swath of men and women drooling over him.”

It was pointless to show any genuine interest in him. To share with anyone -- even your closest friends -- that you had been in love with him since freshman year of college. He’s perfection incarnate and you’re….well….

Let’s just say that unlike your hot red-headed friend Nat, bikinis were nowhere to be found in your beach wardrobe. 

Sure, all bodies were bikini bodies (theoretically), but you were seriously lacking the confidence to show off your curves and your stomach for the world to see. In fact, the idea of taking off your floral sundress to reveal your high waisted two piece suit that left a sliver of your midsection uncovered fills you with dread. You were still getting used to the whole “body positive movement” and the thought of even a part of yourself being exposed seems like too much. 

Especially in front of Bucky.

Nat laughs. “That’s true. But hey, maybe then we’d at least find someone for him. I still can’t believe he’s been single for years. He could literally have anyone he wanted.”

You fight back a grimace and nod. It was true. Not only was Bucky jaw-droppingly gorgeous, he even had a personality that was somehow more attractive than his appearance. He was smart, funny, and charming as all hell. He was also the nicest guy you had ever met, always lending a helping hand to those in need, sticking up for others if they got picked on or bullied, stepping in at the bar whenever he saw a girl getting uncomfortable by a guy getting too handsy. 

It had always surprised you that in the three years you had known him, you had never seen Bucky express interest in anyone. Even at parties, when men and women were falling on top of him trying to hook up with the gorgeous, irritatingly unattainable Bucky Barnes, he would politely ease them off him and act as if he wasn’t surrounded by such beautiful people.

Instead of going back to his dorm room with a new hookup every night like everyone else, he would end up in yours. To watch movies, play games, or just joke about the shenanigans that had ensued that evening.

That was how it had always been since you met the first month of freshman year. You still remember it like it was yesterday.

It was a Saturday night, and your floor mates had gone out to a frat party. You decided to stay in that evening after the previous weekend when your friends were out wearing mini skirts and crop tops and you tried to look your best but you still saw the way the frat brothers eyed you and avoided you and tried getting you out of the way so they could stand next to your friends and-

Well, let’s just say you decided to have an evening off to yourself in the comfort of your room with a carton of Ben & Jerry’s and that night’s throwback movie.

“Is that The Iron Giant?” you heard a gravelly voice ask from the hallway.

You turned to the doorway and almost dropped your chocolate-covered spoon onto your new bedding. You had seen Bucky Barnes from afar since moving in, always letting your gaze linger a few seconds too long before finally looking away, trying to absorb as much of his beauty as possible.

Now, here he was, leaning on the door frame to your room in a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair tied back in a bun, eyes glued to your TV. It was customary for the freshman on your floor to leave the door open if you were just chilling and welcoming visitors to join in on whatever you were doing. No one had a solid friend group yet, so you tried whatever you could to meet people. 

Still, you were surprised that someone was around on a Saturday night, especially Bucky.

Bucky looked at you after not getting a response, eyebrows raised. 

You came back to your senses and nodded. “I have a list of my favorite childhood movies to rewatch. You know, trying to cling to my youth and all that.”

Bucky chuckled, and it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard in your damn life. “You know, some might say that we still are ‘youths.’” He said the last part while making air quotes with his fingers.

You rolled your eyes. “Speak for yourself, pal. I’m literally in bed at 9pm on a Saturday. Might as well start calling me Granny.”

“Well, I’m staying in tonight, too. Does that mean I’m an old man?”

“Yep. Sorry to break the news to ya, Gramps.”

Bucky laughed again. “Bucky works, too.”

You smiled and gave him a small wave. “I’m Y/n.”

He waved back. “Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

“Likewise, Bucky.”

Bucky gave you a small smile, then took a tentative step inside your room. “So….does this movie night only allow admission for one person at a time or would it be okay for a fellow senior citizen to crash?”

“That depends, do you have your A.A.R.P. card on you to prove you’re of age?”

Bucky jokingly patted around the pockets of his sweatpants. “Looks like I forgot it at home. But I could buy us pizza to make up for it?”

You smiled. “Pull up a chair, Buck.”

After that, the two of you became inseparable. You went everywhere together, to the dining commons for almost every meal, football games, theater shows, and had weekly movie nights. And even as your friend group grew to include Nat, Steve, and Sam, everyone still knew you as a pair. Always Bucky and Y/n. Wherever one went, the other would follow.

Just as friends, though. You knew there was no way Bucky would be interested in a girl like you when everyone else was so willing to offer themselves up to him. Instead of just being another person who made him uncomfortable by always flirting with him, you actively treated him like a buddy. Purely platonic. You never sat on the same bed together, never slept over, and hardly touched one another except for the occasional hug during special occasions. Bucky didn’t seem to have a problem with the boundary and you needed it for yourself so that you wouldn’t catch feelings for your best friend.

Too bad that second part didn’t actually work out too well for you.

And now here you were on the annual trip to Natasha’s beach house on the Cape that happened one week in the Summer since freshman year along with Bucky, Sam, and Steve. It became a tradition for your group, a nice mini reunion during the four months off from school to see one another and catch up. Though you loved seeing everyone, going to the beach was the least favorite part of the trip for, well, reasons…

At least the view was nice.

Said view was now looking over at you and running out of the water and in your direction.

“God, he even runs in slow motion, sometimes,” Nat mutters.

Bucky stops right in front of you, wiping his hair out of his face. Though your eyes are covered by your sunglasses, you still do your best to keep your gaze focused on his face and not his abs which are just out of arm's reach.

 “Ladies,” Bucky starts, “we’ve been here for two hours and you still haven’t gone into the water. What gives?”

You shrug. “Still waiting to warm up. I feel a bit of a breeze and don’t want to freeze to death.”

Nat glares at you. “There is literally a bead of sweat trickling down your forehead, Y/n.”

You glare back at her and try to nonchalantly wipe the sweat away as Bucky chuckles.

“I was just about to head in, now that you mention it,” Nat says, getting out of her seat and taking her shorts off. “If anyone throws seaweed at me, though, I’m banning you from the beach house forever.”

Bucky gives Nat a serious look and salutes her. “On my honor, nothing of the kelp variety shall get within five feet of you.”

She rolls her eyes, then heads down the beach toward the water. “Good luck getting that one out here, Bucky,” she calls from over her shoulder.

Bucky’s eyes make their way back to you. “Well? You coming in or what, Granny?”

You laugh at the pet name you accidentally gave yourself so long ago and lift your book up to him. “Can’t, Gramps. The story’s getting too good.” You place the book back down on your lap and pretend to continue reading, unable to actually do so under Bucky’s watchful eye.

Bucky sighs, then leans down to rest his hands on the arms of your chair and you look back up at him as he hovers over you with a smile on his face that makes your toes curl.

“Y/n/n, you have five seconds to get out of that dress and into the water before I pick you up and toss you in, fully clothed.” 

The man was close enough that you could smell the mixture of saltwater and sunblock on his skin. How the hell did he make U.V. protection smell so sexy?  

You gulp, slowly closing your book without breaking eye contact with him. “Right behind you, Buck.” 

His smile widens and he gives you a quick wink before heading back to the water. 

You give yourself one minute to try to get all of the panic out of your system before finally standing up. You turn so that your back is to Bucky and the rest of the group and then gingerly lift your dress over your head. You slowly place it in your bag, attempting to prolong the inevitable as long as possible. 

The instant you feel sun touching the exposed part of your stomach you feel the urge to throw your dress back on and run to the house and hide there for the rest of your stay. Instead, you let out a small sigh, and turn to the group. 

They seem to pay you no mind, too busy tossing a football around and splashing each other. The only one to notice your trek over to the water is, of course, Bucky, who shoots you a boyish grin and waves you over. 

Seeing his excitement at your approach immediately fills you with ease and you return his smile. The water is beyond refreshing in the stinging heat, and you quickly run over to join the group. You wish that they were a little farther out in the deep end so that you could cover more of your body. Right now the water only hits your hips. 

Bucky’s eyes look you up and down. “New suit?”

You nod, looking down at your hand running through to water to avoid his inevitable judgment. “Wanted to try something different. Plus, it was on sale,” you respond. 

Bucky grins. “I’m liking different. It looks great on you.” 

“Buckyyyy,” you grumble, uncomfortable by the compliment. You fight the instinct to cover your stomach with your hands and instead splash Bucky. 

Bucky scoffs at the sudden attack and his grin turns totally mischievous.

“So it’s like that? Fine.” And he lunges at you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you underwater with him, muffling your squeal. His free hand grazes over your exposed midsection and you swear there are literal butterflies flying around in your stomach. You’re not entirely sure if the feeling is caused from excitement of the intimate touch from Bucky, or of horror from it.

Oh god, he must be disgusted by this.

To your surprise, though, Bucky’s hand doesn’t immediately flinch away from the direct contact with your skin. Instead, you feel it slowly slide along one side of your stomach to the other. It makes you dizzy. It makes you yearn for more of his touch.

The two of you break the surface and gasp for air. You’re too distracted by the unexpected contact to feel the bite of the cold water.

Bucky’s arm is still wrapped around you as he continues to give you that wonderful boyish grin. “How’s that for refreshing?”

Your eyes narrow. “You little…” you tackle him, arms wrapping around his neck as you push him back underwater with you. You take this opportunity to wriggle out of his grasp to try and run away, only to have him jump back onto you to pull you under once more.

The two of you continue this childish wrestling match, both grinning and giggling the entire time. Too distracted by one another to hear Sam grumbling to Natasha and Steve.

“How much longer do we have to wait until we slap some sense into them?”

Steve chuckles. “Give them time. They’ll figure it out at some point.”

“I have a feeling it’ll happen pretty soon, gentlemen,” Nat says, crossing her arms.

Steve and Sam raise their eyebrows at her. “What do you know?”

“Nothing you wouldn’t know if you had more than one brain cell, Wilson.” Nat yelps as Sam picks up a giant piece of seaweed and proceeds to chase her through the water, threatening to toss it onto her hair.

The cries of your friend pulls you and Bucky back into the moment and you both turn to witness the chaos unfolding in front of you, laughing at how ridiculous it looks.

“Some adults just don’t know how to act their age,” Bucky murmurs jokingly.

“So childish. We really can’t take them anywhe-” You turn back to Bucky and your words die on your tongue as you realize you’re still in his arms. And his face is inches from yours. It’s the closest the two of you have ever been, and yet it still doesn’t feel like it’s close enough. 

Blue eyes pierce into yours and Bucky’s mouth opens ever so slightly. You become hyper aware of a piece of his hair sticking to his face and move to tuck it behind his ear. You swear you hear a gasp escape from him.

Holy shit, is he moving closer to you?

“I’m going to kill you Sam,” Nat screams, and the two of you jump, turning back to your friends to find the giant piece of kelp laid out on Natasha’s chest. You move out of Bucky’s arms, suddenly embarrassed. 

Of course he wasn’t leaning in to kiss you, Y/n. Quit dreaming.

“Sam,” you groan, “you’re gonna get us kicked out of the Cape house!”

Sam shoots you a childish grin. “Worth it.”

“Speak for yourself, dude!”

“Alright everyone, let’s stay calm,” Steve interjects. “It’s almost time to go out for dinner, so why don’t we let Nat….get cleaned up and we can head out?”

Nat groans, gingerly picking off the pieces of seaweed with a very dramatic look of disgust painted on her face.

The gang heads out of the water and packs up their stuff, then makes the short trek back to the house. 

Right when you get inside and everyone starts heading to their prospective rooms to shower and change, Bucky gently grabs your arm to turn you towards him.

“Hey,” he says, looking down at the ground and then back up at you. Was he….nervous? “I was wondering if you’d be willing to skip dinner and stay in? Maybe we could do a movie night?”

You furrow your brows. “Uh, sure? Should I ask everyone else if they want to join?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands fidgeting in front of him. “Just us? If that’s okay?”

You nod. “Sure, Buck. I’d love that.”

Bucky smiles. “Great, I’ll meet you down here in 30?”

“See you then.”

He gives your arm a small squeeze before running up the stairs to his and Sam’s room, leaving you standing in the hallway by yourself.

What was that about?

----

Thirty minutes later, just after Steve, Sam, and Nat had left for the evening, you head down to the living room to find Bucky sitting in the middle of the couch. He had apparently put more thought into this than you had anticipated because on the table in front of him was a pizza, a bottle of wine and two glasses that had already been filled. He had even lit some candles and placed them throughout the room, creating a soft glow.

You raise your eyebrows at the display. “Dang, Buck. You went all out.”

He smiles. “There’s even Ben & Jerry’s in the fridge for later.”

You return his smile and place yourself on the couch, sitting right against the edge to give you and Bucky the space you were so used to having.

It might be the lack of lighting, but you swear you catch Bucky frowning for a second. 

“What?” you ask.

“Why do you always sit so far away from me? I just showered, Y/n/n, I promise I don’t smell that bad.” 

He definitely did not. Even from this distance the smell of pine from his shampoo was currently driving you mad.

“I don’t know,” you murmur sheepishly. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Bucky barks out a laugh at that. “Seriously? Come here, Granny.” He leans over to grab your waist and pulls you next to him, then lifts his arm up to rest over your shoulders.

You’re pretty sure the whole goddamn block can hear your heart beating out of your chest.

Bucky peers over at you. “This okay?” Speechless, you move your head up and down and he chuckles. “Alright, let’s start the movie. Want some wine?”

-----

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” you declare, “Phil Collins had no right going that hard on the Tarzan soundtrack.”

“It truly is a masterpiece,” Bucky agrees.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to listen to ‘You’ll Be In My Heart’ without tearing up.”

“Well, we’ve watched it together at least five times and you have yet to prove that theory wrong,” Bucky says, lifting the remote and turning off the TV.

You giggle. “This was fun. Thanks for putting it together, Buck.” You poke him in the side.

Bucky grins at your touch and leans closer to you. “Anytime, Y/n. Movie nights with you are my favorite.”

Your eyes meet his and you smile. “Mine, too.”

Suddenly, the room becomes eerily quiet, and it’s just you and Bucky. Inches apart from one another like you were earlier at the beach. Blue eyes piercing yours, lips slightly parted.

And this time you’re sure that Bucky is moving in closer.

What?

His lips ghost over yours and you flinch, pulling back just a bit.

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, leaning back as well. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Y/n. I shouldn’t have assumed…” He rubs the back of his neck.

You shake your head, trying to fight back tears. “No, it’s okay. It’s probably just the wine. You didn’t mean to do that. Accidents happen.”

Bucky frowns. “What?”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you fold your arms over your stomach. “I mean, this is me, Buck. Why would anyone in their right mind want to kiss me?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky sits up straight. He looks almost angry.

This time the tears do come and you bite your bottom lip. “Bucky, have you looked in the mirror, like, ever? You’re absolutely gorgeous. I’m just….” your voice breaks, “I’m just this gross blob of a person. You could have anyone you wanted, so why on earth would you want me?”

“Y/n, that’s literally the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say. And you’ve said some pretty stupid things.” 

Now, you’re mad. You stand up, flinging your arms in the air and walking to the middle of the room. “Bucky it’s true. Have you never seen how other guys look at me? They do their best to avoid me. I hear their snickers. I see the way they try to push me to the side so they can get closer to Nat. I see the way people scoff when they see us hanging out.”

You wipe away the tears from your eyes and Bucky’s gaze immediately softens. He stands up and walks over to you slowly, pulling you in for a hug. He squeezes you so tightly to him, as if trying to push every negative thought or feeling out of your body. Your hands cling to the back of his shirt as you rest your head against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat against your ear relaxes you after a moment and eventually the tears stop.

He gently pushes you away and rests his hands on your shoulders. He looks down at the ground, lets out a deep sigh, then locks his eyes onto yours.

“Y/n, I want you. All I’ve ever wanted was you. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, the one person I feel most comfortable being myself with, who I laugh the most with. I think you’re smart, funny, beautiful, and just my favorite fucking person in the whole world. And I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since you called me Gramps that first night three years ago. It fucking hurts so much that you feel like you’re not good enough for me compared to those who think they can just throw themselves on me like I’m some property they want to claim for themselves. Truth is, I was claimed long ago. I’ve never felt any sort of desire for them when I’ve had the best person by my side this whole time. It’s always been you, Y/n/n. I’ve always wanted you.”

Speechless. You’re speechless. All you can do is blink slowly up at Bucky, trying to absorb everything he’s just said to you. 

“This….this isn’t the wine talking?”

Bucky gives an exacerbated laugh. “We only had like two glasses, Granny. You’ve seen me knock back two bottles without even blinking.”

The corners of your mouth curve up ever so slightly. With a newfound confidence, you lift your right hand up to Bucky’s cheek. A soft sigh escapes him from your touch and your heart flutters at the sound of it.

Fuck it.

Your hand slides to the back of his neck and you pull him down until his lips reach yours. 

After years of secretly dreaming about what it would feel like to kiss Bucky -- how his lips would taste, how smooth they would be -- none of those dreams could ever live up to the real thing.

Kissing Bucky is the best feeling of your whole fucking life.

Clearly he felt the same. The moan he let out when his lips met yours was a good indication of that. He tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, and then suddenly his arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, combing your fingers through his hair.

When it’s time to finally come up for air, the two of you pull away, resting your foreheads against one another.

Bucky is the first to speak.

“I have wanted to do that,” he says in between breaths “for a very, very long time.”

You smile. “Well why didn’t you say so sooner, Gramps?”

“I never knew if you were into me! You never made a move or anything. Always made a point to keep yourself at a distance. I wanted to respect that, Y/n.”

You groan. “I just thought there was no way you’d be interested. Also, I thought not groping you every chance I got was a breath of fresh air for you  since everyone else was doing it.”

Bucky kisses your nose, then rests his forehead back against yours. “And now?”

“Well, now I’m just sorry I made you wait so long. I had no idea you were suffering just as much as I was.”

Bucky chuckles. “You were worth the wait.” You smile into his lips as they meet yours for another kiss.

Suddenly, the lights turn on and the two of you jump away from each other to find Sam, Steve, and Nat standing at the door.

“Fucking finally, guys,” Sam exclaims, grinning widely. Steve gives the two of you a soft smile and nods in approval.

Nat just smirks.

“Told ya.”

-----

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[avintagekiss24]

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn���t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

[falling-pages]

A hug and chicken noodle soup: Takashi x Reader

Feel better @ohshcscenerios <3

-

Maybe love was as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

-

Takashi Morinozuka x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: None

-

Takashi was not used to being disobeyed.

The national martial arts champion, head of his own security firm, and father of three was used to holding power in his massive hands, for the room to fall silent at his command. He made the decisions, though with valid input from others, but he was the top dog, the one on whose authority they relied. Respect emanated from his veins, care and courage were his pedestal. When he gave an order, it was for the greater good of his company, or the safety of those he loved.

So when he returned home to find you washing the dishes, he was absolutely livid.

Not at your disobedience, per se. He was used to your sass, your jokes, your spitfire ways. Fourteen years of marriage would do that to a person, especially one as easygoing as him. But at your abject defiance, going against his advice for your own good--did you not trust him?

“What are you doing?”

You dropped the cup you were washing, the water splashing against your apron and the wall in retaliation. Soap bubbles clung to your arms, and with your deer-in-headlights stare, one would have thought he had just caught you stealing the Hope Diamond rather than just a simple chore.

“Takashi, I…” you sputter, wiping strands of hair away from your face. They had escaped from the bundle atop your head and creased your neck and forehead, though sticking with sweat or water he couldn’t be sure. If it were sweat, so help him, he was going to tie you down to the bed himself.

He left the shadows of the threshold and walked noiselessly towards you, groceries weighing heavily in his hands. You dare not move, pinned to the spot by his steely gaze. Your husband was a quiet man, not often prone to outbursts of emotions despite a wildly passionate heart. But like a predator towards prey, he came closer, until you saw the disappointment lining his brow.

Disappointment was always worse than anger.

But when he approached you, so close you could feel the energy radiating off his skin, so close but not touching, all that was left in his eyes was concern, a worried quirk on his lips that left knots in your stomach. Kindness framed him as he set down the groceries, took a towel, and wiped down your arms, leaving them soft and dry.

“I thought I told you to get some rest, love,” he whispered.

You swallowed, wincing at the ache in your throat. “I tried, I really did, but this was the only time I could get some chores done,” you whined. “The kids are with your parents this weekend, and it’s finally quiet and I can do stuff without worrying about watching them--”

“My parents took the children because you’re sick,” he responded, voice measured and even. His tone was stark, hands lingering on your wrist. Not tight enough to bruise, but enough to remind you of his strength. “You need to rest. I told you I would do the dishes once I got back.”

“But I--”

“Darling.”

His eyes flickered with hurt, and though he was never a man prone to begging, he would do anything to stop you hurting. Every weak inhale you took he felt in his own lungs, trapped and weak and congested. With the raging fever you were sporting this morning, it was a wonder you were even standing right now.

With a sigh, you let the dish fall into the puddle and stepped off your footstool--everything in this house was freakishly tall to accommodate his height--as he untied your apron, hanging it on the peg behind you. While his hands wandered around your waist, enjoying how you felt in his embrace, he bent to press a kiss behind your ear.

“I hate it when you’re hurting,” he murmured.

His warm voice broke through the gauze wrapping around your brain, and you sighed, relaxing against his chest. So warm, the only stable thing in your swimming vision.

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” you said.

“Yes there is.” He scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, and smashed his mouth against your neck, kissing and nuzzling your sweaty skin. “Go to bed, and I’ll make you some soup.”

Despite your squeals, broken and congested before they left your mouth, hiccupped and weak, you didn’t push him away, finally letting him baby you into bed. He walked seamlessly to your bedroom and pulled back the covers with you still clinging to his neck. As he lowered you down, you could have cried at how soft the sheets felt, cool silk against your sore muscles, warmth immediately drawing you into sleep. He layered the blankets on top of you before walking to the other side of the bed, climbing in and drawing the sheets around him before spooning you back against his chest.

His arms were rapture in and of themselves, an escape from your burning head and weak lungs, so tight and strong that you knew he would keep you safe from any sickness trying to harm you. His gentle breaths against your ear calmed your heart, tickling that part of your brain that sparked with love. Even as his lips traveled across your cheek you could barely find the energy to scold him.

“Taka,” you whined, as seriously as your hoarse voice would let you. “Stop...you’ll get sick…”

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered, smooth and comforting like chocolate or rain. Another kiss to your temple, slicking down to the underside of your jaw. “My body has been through worse.”

Though that much was true, it still irritated you. How could he reprimand you for disobeying him and then not even listen when you do the same?

“‘S not the same,” you mumble. “Being shot is a different kind of pain, I’d imagine.”

Takashi chuckled against your neck. Your mind traced over the diagram of his body, the scars stretching across his chest and neck, dyeing his hands and striping through his legs. His line of work was dangerous, full of deceit and corruption, but you knew he’d never have it any other way. “You’re right, my love. A bullet hurts like hell.” He wrapped you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you welcomed the loving suffocation. “But I’d take them all over again if it meant you and our little ones were safe.”

Grisly and gruesome though his words were, they comforted you, lulled you into the security that he worked so hard to provide. Though you prayed it would never come to it, you knew he would lay down his life in a second to ensure yours or your children’s happiness. He even showed his love in less extreme ways--for example, forcing you to rest, holding you as you slept, even at the risk of his own health.

Over and over again you were amazed at the selfless love of the man you married.

Before you could even stop it, the tears were falling from your eyes, stinging the hot skin of your cheeks. Your heart felt full to bursting, and its hammering through your chest didn’t help at all. The world felt full of sunlight yet you clinched your eyes shut to keep in the tears, but they didn’t fool him.

Takashi felt you shake and quickly turned you over onto your back, laying you beneath him as he hovered above, one hand wiping your tears as the other held fast to your waist. “Look at me,” he whispered, the urgency in his voice making your eyes pop open. He stroked your cheek, running his finger along your nose, cooing and shushing until your gaze met his. And as soon as you saw that beautiful smile split his tan face, you knew everything would be okay.

“There she is,” he whispered, tenderly stroking beneath your eye. “Does it hurt that badly?”

“No,” you whispered. “It’s not the fever. It’s the feeling of being loved so terribly.”

Never a man of words, he furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I love you so, so much.” A dry sob creases out your throat. “I’m so glad I married you, and I’m so glad you’re the father of my kids, and I’m so glad I not only know, but get to love such a wonderful man for the rest of my life.”

He chuckled at your delirious confession, words he had all heard before but sounded more tender in the context of your sickness. Such tenderness in your voice soothed the aches and quells of his body, the wounds he had sustained inside and out during his life, until all that was left was you with a rag and antiseptic and a bandage. He adored you so deeply that though he wanted to hear you say more, it was imperative that you rest.

“I’m so blessed to have you by my side. I love you,” he whispered, giving you a gentle kiss. He frowned at how hot your lips were and resigned himself for the afternoon. “Go to sleep, beloved. When you wake, I’ll make you soup.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, the crying finally tuckering you out. Pliantly, you rolled back over onto your side, and he laid back behind you, guiding your head to rest against his bicep and laying his other arm over your waist. As you drifted back off to sleep, you could only think of one thing.

Love really could be as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

-

Kofi

[thicksimpx]

Prologue| Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 |Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | CH16| CH17

Summary: Leaving the soul society for “research” - desperately looking to find answers, anything that’ll help him take down the Spirit king.. that is until he meets “HER” - She has him enamored, desperate and most of all curious… there’s something about HER

“Sometimes we do bad things for the people we love. It doesn’t mean it’s right, it means love is more important”

Warnings : 18+ , mature content, mature language, possessiveness , stalking , murder/gore, rough penetration, creampies , fingering, cam girl y/n, Lots of Psychology lessons 😂, violence, public sex, unrequited love.

"There's only three potential scenarios, she's going to be put to sleep, paralyzed or dead. .... Let’s hope it's not dead." —————- (Aizen pov.) 

I stood there in awe at the sight. Y/n ... I knew the type of woman you were but seeing it just for me .. it's a sight I'll cherish as long as I live. 

Slowly walking to the bed, I listen to her sweet moans as she slowly thrust of fingers into her chat with her held tilted back and eyes closed. Carefully I kneel into the bed crawling up her body pressing soft kisses into her neck. 

"Finally," she says breathlessly.  Finally? Does that mean You've been desperate for me then y/n? I want to mark you. I want my claim on you and I want everyone to see it. 

I slowly stick out my tongue and start licking up her neck, her body twitches and she moans. She likes it. Doing back to giving her soft kisses, I ease my way into sucking her neck, ready to leave my marks. She squirms around me making her wetness rub on my dick. I groan at the warmth of her. Seeing as she liked being sucked on I continued to leave my mark, trailing from her neck to her chest and finally making to her rock-hard nipples. I suck onto her nipple and gently bite feeling her buck up into me and moan.

She grabs my face catching me off guard and pulls me up to her face smashing her lips to mine.  She gripped the back of my neck, pulling me down to her as much as possible. My tongue slipped passed her lips when she gasps for air leaving her mouth her mouth opened for me to taste her mouth to my heart's content. Her tongue licked and swirled around mine sending chills up my spine. I close my eyes as our lips continued to smash together and tongues continued to intertwine. The way you’re swirling your tongue .. I can't wait to have more of you. 

She wraps her legs around me and flips me over mid kiss. I felt as my lungs were knocked out of my chest for a moment before I could comprehend what happened. 

She fucking flipped us. You must be strong with move me like that. 

"S-Stephen I'm sorry" she whined grinding her hips on my dick. I put my hands on her hips and watched the way she slid back and forth on top of me. "You were just taking a long and I need - I need you right now" she sighed. 

I nodded quickly and watched as she lifted her lips grabbing my dick and lining it up with her cunt. You're so needy. Look at you.. you can't get enough of m- ohhh fuck.

I groan and tilt my head back feeling her hot cunt swallowing my dick whole. 

"Oh my god you're all the way inside me " she says with a shaker breath. Her legs wobbling as she bounces up and down slowly to adjust herself. When the hell did she get on her feet?

She straightens her back and begin to bounce on me, Every time her ass hit my pelvis I jolted a bit from the impact. You like it rough. I bet no one has even let you be this rough with them before. 

"Fuck, yes Stephen!" She moaned loudly Throwing her arms in the air and bounce on me until her heart was content, the look of bliss on her face as she moaned made my thick throb in her. The glistening of her cunt made it hard to breath. She's really here. She's bouncing on my dick and not one of those sick toys of disgusting men... me. The way she looked urged me to thrust up into her every time she came down making her bounces falter a bit. 

"Legs tired?" I cooed smiling at her as she brings her arms down and stops bouncing for a moment 

"N-no" she says softly placing her hands on my chest lifting her hips to slam them back down but instead I thrust up and quickly I sit up and flipping her back on to her back earning a Yelp out of her. I pushed her legs up as far as I could and pulled my hips back snapping them forward harshly. The scream never made it from her throat, her mouth hung open as her eyes rolled back. No one’s going to fuck you like I can. 

Leaning down I whisper in her ear "Don't cum without asking for my position first. Understood?" She nods and says a low yes. That's all I needed, to know you're obedient. Your mine and only mine. I straighten my back and slowly start to thrust into her. You'll do whatever I say. Slamming into her I drown out her moan. I'm all you'll ever need. 

Close my eyes and slide my hands up her body, carving the way she feels into my brain. Even with my eyes closed I can still see how she looks. Eyes closed, mouth hung up, legs spread wide and her tities bouncing. I never want to give this up. 

"Ste-Stephen." I hear her cry out. "Why are you fucking me like this ???" She asks biting her lip. I realize I was thrusting into her at a fast pace and the way her lip looks she may have been holding back for a while. I slow down to question if she was okay but a glint in her eye told me that's not what she wanted. I started thrusting fast again and she licked her lips breathing heavily. She's insane.

"Why you ask?" I tilt my head to the side. "Do you want me to stop? Do you not in enjoy it?" I say stilling my hips. 

"N-no" she whined. "Don't stop". I smiled and lifted her legs higher putting her in a mating press. That's what I thought, I own you. Growling lowly when I feel the wet spot under my knee I circle my hips pushing down into her. Her cunt clenched, it felt as if all the air was taken out of me. No. You can't let her control you. I snap my hips aggressively in deep shot stroke making her buck up towards me. She was staring directly up at me as if she was asking me for more. So, I gave her more. 

Do you love me, and adore me like a lover? Like a man, and a lover? The same way I love and adore you?" I wanted to ask so bad but now isn't the time. Instead, I grabbed her throat and dragged her down to meet my hips each time I slammed into her. I leaned on close enough to feel her breath on my face and hear her moans as if they were my own. 

You make me crazy, and I hate it. Staring into her eyes as she looked back at me, I squeezed her throat tighter. Do you know, do you know how much trouble you've caused for me?  I move back from her face with my grip still tightly on her neck. Thrusting so deep and hard. I want to fuck your uterus into your chest, I want to fuck you so hard that you don't forget me. 

I vaguely feel her fingers tapping at my wrist as I'm pounded away at her cunt feeling my ending coming soon. But if I do that, I can't love you because you'll be gone. You belong with me, I have so many plans for us. I sigh looking down at her face her eyes wide staring at me with a smile on her face. Don't look at me like that, it makes me feel as if I'm the sane one. 

I let go of her throat and gripped her ass pinning her down with my body quickly thrusting into her to meet my end. She gasps for air as if she was waiting for me to let go. 

"Yes, baby. Fuck. God! There, daddy, there. Please, Stephen let me cum” she cries out. My neighbors better not complain, or I'll kill them. 

"Go head and cum for me" I whisper into her ear biting the shell as her legs tremble and cunt clenches repeatedly. She moaned loudly as I cum inside her for the second time, feeling each other throb at different paces. This should be enough to bare my child soon. 

Heavily breathing I lay on top of her with her legs still bent up. 

"Stephen, my legs " she groans.  I quickly remember that she's been bent up for a while and push myself up off her standing at the edge of the bed. Her cunt huffed air as she put her legs down, our mixes liquids oozing out of her.  I smile to myself and walk into my bathroom to wipe myself off and get something to wipe her off as well. 

"This was fun" I hear her say from my room. Fun? What the fuck does she mean fun? This isn't a park. 

"Yeah" I agree.

"Well, I should get going" she says softly. I nod to agree as I put my briefs back on until I hear shuffling. Get going? Fuck no. Quickly opening the cabinet realize there's multiple syringes. Fuck fuck fuck. How did I fuck up like this? Grabbing one I storm out the bathroom hoping for the best. There are only three potential scenarios, she's going to be put to sleep, paralyzed or dead. Let's hope it's not dead.

I catch her limping around pulling her dress over her head struggling a bit with her phone in one of her hands. Perfect. 

"Hey, " I rush over to her while her vision was still blocked from the dress. "You don't have to go, you’re not in a position to be going home by yourself, it's pretty late and you've been drinking. There are all kinds of creeps outside at this time"

"Yeah, but I don't want to be a bother...l 

"No, no it's fine. I rather you here where I know you're safe" from others. 

"I don't know," she hesitates finally getting her head out of the dress. "I already text a friend to pick me up a-ow what was that?" I’m so sorry y/n. I had to do it; you can leave right now. I watch as she stumbles and takes a step back. Alright Aizen, what's it going to be? What did we inject her with?

"I need to-to sit" she wobbles dropping her crouching down to reach my bed. As so as she sits she falls backwards, and I hear nothing. Okay she was just put to sleep. Great I can just say she drunk too much and passed out from exhaustion after a fulfilling and passionate night. Yes that'll work. 

I keep her dress on as a safety measure and slide her body up the bed laying her in a comfortable position and throwing the covers over her. Her phone starts to vibrate on the hardwood floor of my room. I slowly creep over too it to see who it is. The name "Himbo" pops up with a picture of Shawn. Shawn. She is fucking text Shawn. Picking it up I decline the call and walk over to her using her face to unlock the phone. Going to her messages I quickly text Shawn before he gets worried and calls again. 

Himbo 🤤😋

I’m sorry about earlier. I didn't mean  anything I said It's just I get so worked  up over the things you do  Please answer the phone.  ———— 12:53Am

Hey, you up can you pick me up

Yeah where are you? Send your loc. 

—— Why didn't you answer are you okay???

Y/n?

Yes I'm fine. I don't need you to come.  I'm on the other side of town don't worry I'll call you tomorrow. 

Okay. Pls call me if you need me doesn't matter what time Ily

— What the fuck does ily mean? I want to gag having to text this idiot. I exited out of the messages and was about to lock her phone until I notice the messages under was from Someone named Ramani who sent eyes and a smirk emoji and Devante earlier today. From the preview all I could see was "u still need me for the.."

For the what?! Shit! I thought we were through with this guy. Looking over my shoulder to make sure she was still knocked out I click open the message.

Devante 😈🍆

U don't have to text me back but stop leaving me on read bruh  Look I apologized already stop declining ma calls. I swear Idk how she got those pictures & shit but stop playin we don't have to be at ur crib no mo we can go go to a Telly  ———— This guy is desperate. What's a telly and why does he want to go there? 

Devante 😈🍆

Yo

Yeah? 

U finally respond to me👀

???

Chill chill. I'm just had a question 

What???Read: 9:45Am

U still need me on the 13th for the show? —————-

What show is he talking about? Locking her phone, I walk over to the nightstand next to her and carefully sit it down. Admiring her peaceful state for a moment and holding my finger under her nose to make sure she was breathing before scrolling over to my desk and opening my laptop.  Checking to make sure and confirm she was sleeping again. I switch screens and stop the cameras. The one above and across from my bed would have the best views. 

I mute the computer and watch the whole scene from tonight. She looked so ethereal riding me like a professional. Feeling my dick throb, I exited out and closed the laptop. This is just for research. It's time for bed. Standing and stretching I walk over to the bed and lay on top of the covers to stray away from holding her as I would want to. Don't want to scare her away.  ———- An annoying and continuous beeping sound interrupted my sleep. What the fuck is that? I groan sitting up in my now empty bed. The bedroom door burst open, and y/n comes flying in wearing one of my shirts.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake or scare you. I forgot my phone in here" 

"Why is your alarm on? It's Saturday." I groan sliding back down throwing the covers over me. "Come lay down"

"Oh, it's for my birth control" she says shyly. Fucking birth control?!

I sit up quickly and look at her "are you worried about the smell?!" She panicked. "I'm just cooking you were sleeping so peacefully, and I feel bad that I passed out on you last night, so I wanted to make you breakfast" she giggled. "Go wash up and come in the kitchen" she says walking out. It's like she's my wife already.

Sitting up and putting my feet on the floor I sigh. Now there's several things I have to work on, getting rid of the birth control, having her bare my seed, and getting rid of Shawn and Devante on top of trying to contact Gin or Kaname for a progress update. Fuck Sosuke.. what have you gotten yourself into?  ————

tags - @mxchaluvv​ @luffysthickwaifu​ @indiecursor​ @dejwrites @thismf7 , @serinaeatsrainbows @rinhoes​ , @pulchritxde , @chaichaiiskai ​ , @taesd-urag​ , @ry0m3n​ @apollostears​ @hhawkz​ @littlemochi @imperatorkhaleesi @gabzlovesu @preciousamethyst

Thicksimpx© 2022. Do not copy, claim, modify or translate my work without my permission. thanks 😘

[finelinevogue]

omg could you do a fluffy little thing based on your nyc insta request where mc meets fans and they ft harry and it’s just like the world’s glimpse into their relationship 💓

yes let’s do this!! this is short and sweet, but i hope you love it all the same!! ;

You were walking out of Starbucks when a group of girls approached you.

The day was not the nicest in New York, but you had errands to run within the city so you thought you’d get them done when it’s not a brilliant say and save the nicer days to do something fun with Harry. You’d been to the Apple store to fix your phone because it keeps on playing up. You’d been to Gucci to pick up a delivery for Harry. You’d been to the local florist to pick up some flowers for your best friend, since she was feeling under the weather. Finally, you’d just picked yourself up a coffee before you had to head back home.

Unfortunately Harry was at a fitting appointment for his tour outfits, so he couldn’t run errands with you, but he sent your good friend, and bodyguard, Aaron with you to keep you company, but more importantly keep you safe. New York could be absolutely crazy when it came to fans, but even more so when it came to creeps who had no respect for women or boundaries, so having a bodyguard helped keep things calm.

“Hi excuse me, you’re Y/N L/N right?” One of the young girls ask and you instantly knew this was a group of Harry’s fans. The giveaways? One of them had a Fine Line tote bag. One was wearing Harry’s merch. One was wearing a green frog bucket hat that Harry had worn only once.

“I am yes, hi.” You smiled politely at them, holding the warm cup of espresso between your hands. Aaron was stood near you, but not making it look like he was here for security.

“Hi, we noticed you in there a minute ago and just wanted to say hi and that we’re really big fans of you, and obviously Harry, and that we really love you guys.” The one with the tote bag spoke, who was also the one that had introduced them. You guessed that they were the most confident out of all them, because it did take balls to speak to a stranger in the way they did.

“Yeah, you’re both so sweet together and you clearly make each other happy. It’s so lovely to see actually.” The one with the frog bucket hat spoke up next. The one with the Harry merch kept a lot more quiet and you could tell by their body mannerisms that they were very nervous and shy - a lot like you actually. You had been an awful lot like them before you met and then he helped you come out of your shell and experience the world in a much brighter and safer light.

You’d be forever grateful for your boyfriend. Your best friend, Harry.

“Aww that’s so sweet of you all, thank you!” You cupped your hand over your heart in awe of their kindness. Harry’s fans always never failed to surprise you with their passion for love and spreading positivity. You admired people like this in general and it was only made more special when they were inspired by your Harry. “What are your names?”

“Oh i’m Alanna.” The one with the tote bag introduced themselves first, holding out their hand for you to shake which you shook kindly.

“Bethany, or just Beth I don’t really mind!” The one with the frog hat introduced themselves next, receiving a handshake too.

“Love your hat, Beth.” You pointed to it and they smiled excitedly.

“Harry was the inspiration!” Although you already knew that you let Beth have a moment to themselves and be happy over the little anecdote.

“And what’s your name, lovely? I’m Y/N.” You reintroduced yourself to the last girl, wanting them to feel as comfortable as possible with, not only you but, meeting new people.

“Marissa.” They smiled and shook your hand willingly.

“Oh I love that name! My aunt is called Marissa, but she goes by Mar though.” You told them the most useless bit of information just to make them feel that bit more at ease.

“People call me Mar too.” They smiled brightly and you felt like you might have cracked through even just a portion of their shell.

“Well, can I call you Mar then?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool! So you guys from New York or..” You asked, looking at all the shopping bags they carried. They’d been to all the shops you once could only just about afford, now you were lucky enough to be able to shop in the places you only ever window shopped in.

“We’re from New Jersey but just came shopping for the day.” Alanna explained. “Never expected to run into you though so that’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, definitely made my day!” Beth added, smiling brightly.

“Well I can only apologise that i’m not Harry or he’s not with me. He’s currently at tour fittings.” You explained and they told you not to worry about being sorry. You had a brilliant idea though.

“No, seeing you is so amazing Y/N!”

“Yeah, you’re Mar’s fashion inspiration!” Mar blushed, as their friends exposed them for being such a huge fan of yours. It helped explain why they were so nervous in front of you too.

“I’m honoured.” You laughed and pulled you phone out of your pocket, hoping to run with your great idea. You prayed it worked. “Just one second.” You held up your finger to them and they just nodded eagerly, sort of hoping that you were doing what they thought you might be doing.

You opened your phone and clicked on your most recent contact. The familiar beeping of a face-time ring rang through the air surrounding you.

“Hello my favourite human being. What’s up? You okay?” Harry’s golden face came up on the screen, your face high up in the corner. He looked so pretty. He was in his brown Gucci coat and had his hair all ruffled from where he’d washed it this morning but not dried it. His hair went crazy when he didn’t intentionally tame it - a bit like yours. You admired his worry for you, smiling as he kissed his camera as if to virtually kiss you.

“Hello my favourite boyfriend.” You teased him. You often greeted him like this and it always made him smile, just at how playful you were being. “I’m doing good, miss you though.”

“Miss you always babe.”

“You free?” You asked, looking briefly to the girls who were all grinning wildly. They were so excited and it made you chuckle, which caught Harry’s attention.

“I am yeah, why? What’re you laughing at? Better not be some hot celebrity you’ve accidentally bumped into.” He rolled his eyes, letting the jealousy get the better of him. You smiled and returned your attention back to your beautiful boyfriend.

“No, there’s no hot celebrity in my presence except from you baby.” That made him beam with happiness and blush with love.

“To what do I owe your beautiful face calling me then?” Harry asked, taking note of your background to recognise that you were still in the city.

You turned the camera towards your new friends, you in the bottom of the picture and them in the top above you. They were huddling together and waving towards the screen. Mar had tears in their eyes and Beth had their hand over their mouth in shock that this was actually happening.

“Met some lovely people who deserved a special hello from you.” You explained to him simply.

“Hello!” Harry stressed the ‘o’ making it sound more like hell-oo. He was so socially awkward greeting people over face-time, but he made it seem so easy nevertheless. He never wanted his fans to feel awkward or unsafe so he had to be as socially brave as he could.

“We have Alanna, Beth and Mar. They’re so kind and Mar says i’m their fashion inspiration.” You winked at Harry, understanding where Mar was coming from because Harry takes fashion inspiration from you regularly too.

“Which one’s Mar?” He asked you and you pointed the best you could to the girl wearing his merch.

“Um pretty sure Mar’s wearing my merch babe! Are y’sure they said you were their inspiration?” He laughed, which made Mar laugh and you were really happy to see that.

“No I did say that.” Mar backed you up, which earned a fist bump between the two of you and you sticking your tongue out to Harry.

“Yes bestie!” You laughed, knowing that was the language Harry’s fans used with one another. Not that you were on stan twitter or anything…

“Sorry if Y/Ns causing any trouble for you lot, believe me she’s quite the bloody handful!” Harry joked, making you scoff and then laugh at how rude he was being. You knew it was all a joke and a front, but he was so cheeky to be so playful in front of people he’d just met.

“Oi y’wanker. Sorry about him.” You apologised on behalf of Harry for no reason whatsoever.

“Harry?” Alanna spoke his name and he dedicated his attention from you to them.

“Hello? Alanna was it?”

“Hi, yes, Um, I just want to say that i’m really proud of you and all your achievements. I think you’re an absolute treasure and we all love you so much.”

Before Harry could get a word in they each continued to add onto Alanna’s praise. Harry started blushing, never being very good at taking praise. On the other hand, giving praise, he was remarkably good at - you could vouch for that.

“Yeah Harry your music is second to none and it’s really been such a blessing to be a fan of yours. You’re ridiculously talented.”

Mar was last to speak and although they didn’t say much, their words held gravity and were clearly very important to them. Maybe that’s why Harry appreciated Mar’s words the most.

“Thank you, Harry.” Was all was said, but it was enough for Harry to clear his throat so he didn’t start crying in front of these people. He didn’t need stories getting out of how he got all weepy because of some sentimental things his fans said, God the papers would twist that story a thousand different ways - and none of them good.

Harry kept the conversation with them for a little while longer until Harry announced he had to go back to his fittings. After they’d each said their goodbyes to both you and Harry, and even Aaron, they quickly asked whether they could post any of the photos they took from today - to which you and Harry were both completely fine with. The three of them then walked off and waved back to you, you waving too. You smiled so brightly, feeling so full of joy from meeting such wonderful young women. Not all Harry fans were that nice, so you were glad that those were the ones you had the pleasure of meeting. You turned your attention back to your loving boyfriend who was already looking at you - with so much love in his eyes you thought they’d turned heart shaped for a moment.

“What?” You asked, smirking at his cheeky face which gave you a belly full of butterflies.

“You’re just so amazing, d’you know that?”

“Oh stop being so soft i’m going to bloody cry otherwise.” You turned your head away for a moment to catch the tears before they could form, only to look back at him and he had his eyebrows raised as if he already knew that you were on your way to crying. “Shut up, you.”

“I’m sorry, y’too cute not to torment. Alright call me when you get back home safely babe, alright?” He asked and you rolled your eyes at him, he laughed at your childishness but knew that he only meant well for you.

“Okay. I love you, baby.” You kissed your front camera as a signal of goodbye that you did every time.

“Love you so much. Bye, bye, byeee.” He kissed his camera every time he said bye and you laughed at him before ending the call. God you loved him so much. Now all you wanted to do was get home and have a warm bath with your loving boyfriend and, little did you know, soon-to-be fiancé.