winchester-with-wings

[winchester-with-wings]

Reminder to self:

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Shearing half a sheep seemed a simple way to show a season's growth of wool, but photographer Cary Wolinsky was wrong. The half-shorn sheep tended to lose their balance and topple to wool-ward. It took many tries before merino sheep number 30 “became our hero," Wolinsky said.

[winchester-with-wings]

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everyone get unemployed. i will provide for us.

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Have you REALLY lost your scissors if you aren't walking around making scissor motions with your fingers in an attempt to lure them back out?

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it's got solitaire btw. if you even care

[winchester-with-wings]

Power Struggle (Bucky Drabble)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

@talesoftheimpala drabble request:��Having a think about this little smutty bucky drabble… I was thinking maybe set post-civil war where they’re training for avenger type things, maybe they’re sparring, end up wrestling on the floor or maybe even some accidental hair pulling gone awry. Possibilities are endless there. 😜

word count: 850ish

a/n: my car battery died yesterday at the doctor’s office. I had to wait almost two hours for AAA to come jump my car and replace my car battery so I wrote this while waiting. Also when writing this I kept thinking about the wrestling scene from Miss Congeniality which is why I included the gif.

Mobile Masterlist / Ko-Fi

*pretend it’s you in the gif, not Nat*

It had started out simply as a small challenge over breakfast on a Saturday morning. Born out of your competitive nature and the restored arrogance of Bucky Barnes.

Ever since the conflict between Steve, Tony, and the rest of the team had been resolved, Bucky had become a member of the Avengers team. Bucky usually trained with Steve and Sam. He would be no match for your agile skills.

You had been trained like Nat. That’s why Bucky thought he could take you. But you were trained in at least a dozen forms of hand to hand combat and martial arts and you excelled at combining them for effectiveness and unpredictability.

Bucky proved right away that his brute strength was to his advantage. But he went easy on you, pulling his punches and dialing down the use and strength of his metal arm.

Steve and Sam were spectators. Sam cheered you on and Steve was rooting for Bucky.

“C’mon Y/N, do the thigh thing!” Sam shouted, slapping the top of his thighs. Everyone knew what he was talking about. You didn’t take his advice right away.

“Don’t break her Buck! We have a mission in two days,” Steve said at a more reasonable volume.

You used Bucky’s strength and momentum to block his punches and kicks, landing your own to his abdomen. You hooked your leg around Bucky’s neck to take him down but he grabbed your waist and prevented it. You twisted your body out of his grasp to swing around his body and wrap your arms around his neck from behind.

“You and Nat,” Bucky grunted, “You’re like monkeys, the way you climb all over me.” He broke your hold but then you recovered quickly with a re-positioned sleeper hold.

“Well you’re such a big, sturdy tree,” you teased. Sam and Steve couldn’t hear what you guys were saying.

“Are you calling me fat?” he huffed, likely with a smirk.

“Ha, never!” you whispered in his ear just before nipping his earlobe.

The sexual tension between you two had always lingered in the background and you’re not above using it to your favor. Bucky froze which was just enough for you to release him, land on your bare feet and then crouch to swipe him off his feet.

You tried to pin him but it just led to several shifts in power, neither one of you definitively ending the contest. You wrestled on the mats, groping at each other’s limbs. The only constant was the cool touch of Bucky’s metal arm against your sweating skin and your combined grunts.

At one point Steve and Sam were called away by a text from Tony. But you two kept going, intent on winning. Bucky was on his back with you on top of him, your back pressed to his chest. You kicked your legs frantically to find leverage to turn over.

Bucky had you in a loose sleeper hold. But his arm wasn’t going under your chin and across your neck, it was around your chest. Bucky’s hand was palming your breast. Your legs stopped kicking for a moment. He gently kneaded your breast, his thumb even grazed over your nipple through your shirt and sports bra.

“Should we call this a draw or did I win?” Bucky asked. Out of defiance and retaliation, you lifted your hips and your hand reached down to cup his crotch.

“I don’t give up so easily,” you said, using Bucky’s surprise to slip his hold and roll over on top of him, your hand staying in place. You didn’t squeeze his crotch to hurt him. In fact, you were only cupping him and one look into Bucky’s eyes told you why he was hard. He grinned.

Bucky always looks so damn handsome when his smile shows his perfect teeth.

“I like a gal who’s hard to get.” He rolled you over on the mat until he was on top. His fingers tangled in your hair and he tugged. Whether or not it was his intention, a moan escaped your throat. You were as surprised as he was. You recovered the banter quickly.

“Speaking of hard,” you rubbed his cock through his sweatpants. Bucky laughed and he thrusted into your hand. He lowered his head and kissed the column of your throat. He dragged his lips over your glistening skin until they met yours and it was like your lips were meant to fit his perfectly.

The moment your tongue touched his upper lip, Bucky growled and started to get to his feet, picking you up with him and wrapping your legs around your waist.

“So who won the sparring match?” you spoke against Bucky’s lips, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging on it.

“I think we both did,” he replied. He started to walk out of the gym, carrying you with him. You pulled your mouth away from his.

“Where are we going, Bucky?” Bucky surprised you with a slap on your ass. You squealed and he chuckled.

“Oh I think you know,” he responded as he captured your mouth again and turned left in the direction of his room. 

tags under the cut.

Keep reading

[winchester-with-wings]

Trigger Point

//Pairing// Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

//Summary// Someone tries to trigger Bucky’s Winter Soldier programming—and it nearly works.

//Word Count// ~1.4k

//Warnings// Rough sex, PIV (use protection!!!), m&f orgasm, metal arm kink, breeding kink, overstimulation, dominance/submission dynamics, PTSD implications, possessive behavior, consensual power imbalance

You knew something was wrong the second he stalked off the jet.

Bucky didn’t say a word during debriefing—barely looked at anyone. You caught the tremor in his jaw, the tightness in his fists, the way he kept flexing his left hand like it was burning through his wrist.

You didn’t speak until you found him in the dimmed corridor below deck, near the emergency equipment lockers, pacing like a caged animal.

“Bucky—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, turning toward you, wild-eyed.

You froze. His pupils were blown, sweat beading at his temples. His face looked like a war zone—gritted teeth, flared nostrils, storm in his chest.

“They tried it,” he growled, voice gravel. “They tried to use the words.”

Your stomach dropped.

The trigger words.

You closed the distance carefully, like you were approaching a lit fuse. “But they didn’t work, right?”

His silence was the answer. Not because they succeeded—but because they almost had.

He stepped in close, breathing hard. His metal hand clenched and unclenched at his side, the plates groaning with tension.

“I need something else to take over,” he said, voice low and shaking. “Before the memories eat me alive.”

You met his eyes and nodded, barely whispering, “Take it.”

Then his mouth crashed into yours.

It wasn’t a kiss—it was a claim. His flesh hand grabbed the back of your neck, the cold press of vibranium pushing up under your shirt like it needed to mark you, own you. He backed you up into the wall with a growl, mouth devouring, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth.

“You’re mine,” he snarled, voice rough. “You hear me?”

“Yes,” you gasped, fingers already tearing at the straps of his tac vest. “Always.”

His metal hand tore your shirt open like paper. No finesse—just need. You moaned at the cold glide over your breasts, the sharp contrast against your heated skin.

“You gonna let me fuck the Winter Soldier out of me?” he hissed, rutting his hips against yours, already hard and straining in his combat pants. “Remind me who I really am?”

“Please.”

That’s all he needed.

Your pants were ripped off you and thrown somewhere you couldn't see. He shoved his down quickly, not wasting another second. He lifted you against the wall, metal fingers digging into your thighs as he lined up and slammed into you in one brutal thrust.

You screamed—not from pain, but from the shock of fullness, the way he filled you so deep it felt like he reached your soul.

“Fuck—this pussy,” he grunted, snapping his hips up. “Always so fucking tight. Like you were made for me.”

You clung to him, fingers fisting in his hair as he fucked into you, rough and relentless. The metal arm held you effortlessly, locked in place like a vise while his flesh hand slid between your bodies, thumb circling your clit with no mercy.

“You like this?” he growled. “You like me losing control on you?”

You whimpered, already close, already unraveling from the brutal pace. “Yes, Bucky—don’t stop—please, don’t stop—”

“You’re gonna come,” he ordered, thrusts picking up speed. “You’re gonna come, and then I’m gonna fill you up. Fuck a baby into you, make sure nobody ever fucking forgets you belong to me.”

You shattered.

Your orgasm slammed into you, sharp and overwhelming, and Bucky didn’t slow down. He kept thrusting through it, chasing his own high, whispering broken things in your ear:

“Mine.” “No one else touches you.” “Need you. Only you.” “Can’t lose myself—not with you here—”

Then with a final deep thrust and a guttural growl, he buried himself to the hilt and came—hot, thick, pulsing inside you in waves. His hips jerked with each spurt, and he held you so tight it felt like he was trying to mold your body to his.

But he wasn’t done.

You were still shaking when he pulled back just enough to watch your pussy flutter around him. He slid out halfway, then slammed back in—again. And again.

“Bucky—” you whimpered, overwhelmed.

“One more,” he said, lips brushing your ear. “Give me one more. I know you can.”

His thumb found your clit again—faster this time, rougher. Your legs trembled. His cock throbbed inside you.

“I need to see you fall apart,” he whispered. “Need to know I didn’t hurt you. That I didn’t become him again.”

The second orgasm hit like lightning—your body arching, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent cry as you clenched down on him like a vice. He grunted, hips faltering, spilling into you again with a broken moan.

You sagged against him, completely spent.

His hold on you loosened, just enough to let you breathe. His forehead rested against yours, sweat dripping onto your cheeks as his breath came in ragged gasps.

“I didn’t mean to be that rough,” he murmured, shame already creeping in.

You cupped his cheek, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

“You needed it. And I needed you.”

For a second, the Helicarrier didn’t exist. The mission, the words, the war—it all faded. Just him. Just you. Still here. Still whole.

“I don’t know what I’d be without you,” he whispered, voice cracking.

“You’ll never have to find out.”

[winchester-with-wings]

[winchester-with-wings]

disliking your father for personality traits you have yourself but keep firmly repressed

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They are studying us in petri dishes

[winchester-with-wings]

When I say “I love men in uniform” this is what I mean.

[winchester-with-wings]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

just one bite omfg 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

[winchester-with-wings]

This quote has been stuck in my head since Pedro said it the other week. Gonna make a print of this and hang it in my room as a reminder to myself.

[winchester-with-wings]

life is hard right now.

I miss this place. I miss what tumblr was to me back in 2016-18. I want to dive back into this world. lose myself to fanfiction, reading and writing it, the community, fall back in love with the actors and fictional characters that I desire. Remember how much these characters, shows, and movies meant to me. Because...

Because life is hard. love is hard. And it shouldn't hurt this much, and it shouldn't feel like nothing either. I want to feel something. I want to feel something other than guilt and shame. I want to feel love and desire again. It shouldn't be this hard. I've lost myself, but I want to find her again. I'm just not sure how, or when, or if I will be alone when I do.

[winchester-with-wings]

you’re so vain

pairings pedro pascal x reader

summary after endless late nights on set, pedro finally has a moment to breathe. but with you, the night is anything but quiet + aftercare w pedro pascal after intense lovemaking.

tag 18+ detailed smut, minors dni. explicit language, eventual smut. dirty talking, reader fantasizing pedro while he cooks. established & secret relationship. unspecified agegap. just pedro expressing his love for you, cooking for you, removing your heels and massaging them. pedro pascal taking care of you, calling you baby. this is unedited.

masterlist

after weeks of long hours on set, late-night shoots, and endless takes, pedro was finally done filming. he had barely had time to breathe, let alone relax.

when you arrived at his apartment, the door swung open to reveal a pedro that immediately made you smile. pedro stood there, his signature smile lighting up his face.

"finally, you're here."

you raised an eyebrow. "missed me that much?"

instead of answering, he just held your hand, pulling you gently inside. his apartment smelled like home—garlic and onions simmering on the stove, warm notes of something sweet lingering in the air. a few lamps cast a cozy golden glow over the space, their soft light reflecting off the vinyl records stacked near his player.

pedro shut the door behind you, running a hand through his hair before turning back around, studying you for a moment like he was memorizing the way you looked in this exact second.

"you have no idea how much i needed this,"

"a quiet night, good food, and me causing chaos in your apartment? what more could you ask for?"

pedro chuckled, stepping closer. he reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze lingering on you before dipping slightly lower.

"you look beautiful tonight," he said softly, his voice warm with sincerity. his eyes flickered over the dress you were wearing, admiration evident in the way his lips curved into a smile.

"is this new? it suits you perfectly."

you felt a warmth creep into your cheeks, but you managed to keep your expression playful. the fabric hugged your waist.

"so you do pay attention," you teased, giving the hem of your dress a little twirl.

“always,” pedro chuckled, eyes studying you.

"especially when it comes to you."

pedro moved with practiced ease in the kitchen, the soft glow from the overhead light casting warm, golden shadows over his figure. his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing the strong lines of his forearms.

you couldn’t help but watch, drawn to the effortless grace in the way his fingers curled around the wooden spoon. the way he slowly stir the sauce.

you imagine his hands curled up like that deep into your cunt, hitting that sensitive spot.

those same veins engraved around his dick when he thrusts deep inside you, his touch lingering, his breath warm against your cheek.

pedro reached for a bottle of wine, twisting the cap off with a practiced flick of his wrist. the muscles in his forearm flexed with the motion. he glanced at you then, catching the way your gaze lingered.

"you’re staring," he said, voice deeper now, softer. like he knew exactly what was running through your mind.

you hummed, giving a small shrug. "just enjoying the view."

pedro let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he poured the wine into the sauce, the deep red swirling effortlessly into the mix.

"dangerous thing, letting me know that,"

your breath hitched, pulse quickening.

that's when you wandered over to pedro's collection of albums in the shelves. punk legends. the clash, ramones, sex pistols.

you reached for ‘carly simon’s no secrets’, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. without hesitation, you placed ‘you're so vain’ onto the vinyl player.

you lifted the needle onto the vinyl, and as the familiar crackle filled the space.

"you walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht, your hat strategically dipped below one eye, your scarf it was apricot" you had one eye in the mirror, as you watched yourself gavotte,"

pedro is famous. breathtakingly, unfairly, effortlessly handsome. the kind of man whose name alone set hearts racing, whose every interview had reporters shamelessly leaning in closer, hanging onto his words like they were something meant just for them.

and then there were the fan edits.

you had seen them. stitched together with slow-motion frames, just enough depth to send people into a frenzy.

and now, here he was. not in an edit. not on a screen.

just him.

standing in his kitchen, watching you with something real, something that wasn’t meant for millions, wasn’t curated for cameras.

just for you.

the thought sent warmth curling through you, something dangerously close to disbelief, something undeniably real.

and still, pedro stood there, smiling like you were the only person who had ever mattered.

“and all the girls dreamed that they'd be pedro's partner… they'd be pedro’s partner…"

pedro had frozen mid-motion, eyes locked on you with something between amusement and absolute fascination.

he let out a low, breathy laugh, setting the plate down on the dinner table, tilting his head slightly as he looked at you.

”oh, so this is what we're doing tonight?" he mused, eyes glinting with mischief.

you simply grinned, swaying a little to the rhythm, letting the song fill the space between you. laughter bubbling up in your chest.

"and you're so vain… you probably think this song is about you!"

pedro's hand pressed gently against his heart, his palm tracing slow, reverent circles. like he was trying to steady the overwhelming warmth spreading through him.

"you…" he started, but his voice was softer now, unreadable. pedro let out a small breath, as if he was trying to steady himself, eyes following your every move. his hand still on top of his heart.

"you really are something else," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

your movements slowed, your hands smoothing over the fabric of your dress as you finally stilled, standing just a few steps away from him.

"oh?" you mused, tilting your head slightly. "and what exactly am i?"

pedro let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like he was trying to clear his thoughts.

"someone who makes my heart feel too full," he admitted, eyes flickering with something deeper.

"and honestly?" he added, a teasing glint slipping into his gaze, breaking through the quiet tenderness. "at this rate, you might actually give me a heart attack."

you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head, warmth curling through you in ways you couldn’t even begin to explain.

pedro grinned, victorious, like he had been waiting for that exact reaction. like making you laugh, even in the softest, most intimate moments, was something he’d never let himself fail at.

because somehow, he always knew exactly when to bring you closer and when to make you laugh like every little piece of him was attuned to every little piece of you.

then, before you could tease him again, he took his steps forward, closing the last bit of space between you. his fingers brushed lightly against your waist, his voice lower now, softer.

”you’re really trying to kill me tonight, huh?" he murmured, voice rough with something that sent a thrill down your spine.

"just keeping things interesting," you mused, your smile lingering.

"you don’t have to try," he murmured, his voice softer now.

"you already are."

pedro's gaze drifted toward the dinner table, the soft glow of the candles flickering against the polished wood. the meal he had spent so much time preparing sat untouched, but as his eyes shifted back to you, something in his expression changed.

"forget about the food."

"after all that work?"

whatever had been simmering on the stove wasn’t nearly as important as whatever was happening between you now.

"i might’ve been hungry for something else." pedro whispered into your ear, his voice lower now, softer,

his fingers grazed lower into your stomach, enough to send something electric through your skin.

his hand slid to the side of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw, holding you there as his mouth met yours.

it deepened quickly, tongues meeting, breath tangled, your body already pressing into his. he slid his hand down your thigh, then up under your dress. when his fingers brushed the lace of your panties.

pedro pulled back just enough to look at you.

he kissed you again. this time harder. both your dinner forgotten on the table.

he lifted you easily, hands gripping your thighs and carried you to the bedroom, kissing you like he couldn’t get enough, like he’d starved for this moment.

as soon as the door to his bedroom door clicked shut, you backed him against it with a kiss that made his breath catch. he smiled against your lips, one hand already sliding up the back of your thigh.

“tell me how long you’ve been thinking about this.” you pressed your body to his, feeling the hard line of him against your stomach.

“since the moment you've been gone.”

when he laid you on the bed, you sat up, eyes burning.

he couldn’t keep his eyes off you all night. not just your dress, though the way it clung to you made his jaw clench but the way you looked at him. like you already knew what was coming later.

“you’ve been teasing me all night,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your jaw, “and now you’re gonna take everything you asked for.”

you didn’t answer with words, just reached between your bodies, fingers finding the hard length of him through his jeans.

“not yet.”

without a word, he slid his hands up your thighs, slow and firm. his fingers found the back of your ankle straps. he unbuckled each one deliberately, pulling the heels off and setting them aside.

your feet now free, he massaged your heel briefly, then the arch, his thumbs pressing softly. a quiet hum escaped your lips, involuntary.

“you’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he said, his voice rough.

pedro undressed you with a kind of reverence. his hands memorizing every curve, every breath, every sound you made as he sucked your tits.

and then his mouth was on your inner thigh.

he pulled your panties down your thighs, he kissed the inside of each as if in prayer. 

he spread you open, knelt between your legs, and just looked for a moment. then he lowered his head and licked you slowly, deliberately, like he meant to ruin you.

his tongue circled your clit, then flattened against it. you can feel his nose brush down your bud as he licked your pussy.

you bucked against him, but he held your hips down, groaning into you as your thighs tightened around his face.

“fuck baby… i haven’t even started yet.”

he didn’t stop when you begged. he didn’t stop when you came. he only growled softly, licking you through it, pulling another orgasm out of you until your body went limp and trembling beneath him.

pedro pulled back, his face glistened with you, and he kissed up your stomach, your boobs, your throat.

“take off your shirt.”

he smirked, pulling it off slowly.

you leaned up and ran your hands over his chest, down his stomach, then unbuckled his belt with slow, teasing hands. he let you, watching you with dark eyes.

then he hovered above you, sliding the tip of his cock along your folds.

he pushed into you slowly, inch by inch until he was buried into you.

your breath left your lungs. he filled you so completely it was almost overwhelming.

pedro didn’t move at first. he just stayed there, looking down at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“god baby, you’re perfect,” he said, his voice breaking a little.

then he began to thrust—deep, controlled, building rhythm with purpose.

he moved inside you like he was trying to memorize your body from the inside out. each stroke deeper than the last, each shift hitting the exact place that made your toes curl and your voice shatter in pleasure.

he flipped you over, dragging you up onto your hands and knees, spreading you open for him. he slid in again from behind, slow and hard, both his hands grabbing a hold of your breasts.

you arched for him, moaning loudly, shamelessly.

one hand on your hip, the other slid under your body, teasing your clit as he pounded into you harder now—each thrust shaking the bed, your moans swallowed by the storm raging outside the window.

you looked back at him, hair clinging to your face, and begged.

“please pedrito— don’t stop. i’m so close—”

his hand moved faster, thrusts rougher, until you came with a cry tightening around him, body shaking uncontrollably.

pedro swore under his breath, pulled out, and turned you onto your back again.

he slid in deep, kissing you with tongue and teeth, hips snapping against yours. he held your face, moaning into your mouth.

“i’m gonna come—”

you pulled him closer. “inside please—“

that single word unraveled him.

you both moan into each other's mouths, his hand finding your breasts once more.

he gripped you tighter, buried himself deep, and came with a low groan, spilling inside you in long, shaking waves.

the room felt heavy with warmth and breath, like the world had folded in on itself to make space just for them.

the blankets were twisted, sheets pulled halfway down the bed, skin cooling under the air conditioning.

pedro lay on his side, watching you.

you curled towards him, your cheeks still flushed, chest rising and falling in that slow, uneven rhythm that only comes after something raw and real. your hair clung to your temples.

he reached up and brushed a finger down the side of your face.

“you okay?” he asked, voice so soft it.

“yeah,” she whispered. “i’m more than okay.”

pedro smiled, his gaze soft and unwavering. “i love you,” he murmured, the words settling between you like a quiet promise.

slowly, he leaned in, his elbow propped against the bed for support, his body angled towards you.

“i love you too.” you whispered back, the words felt both gentle and immense as you closed your eyes.

after a few minutes, he wasn’t in bed anymore. you heard quiet footsteps padding across the floor, careful not to wake you. but you were awake, floating in that sweet, sleepy in-between where the world feels gentler.

pedro came back with a towel, damp and warm. his dark curls were tousled and his eyes.

those rich, thoughtful eyes flickered with a kind of focused tenderness that made your chest ache a little.

“hey,” he whispered, kneeling beside the bed, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead.

you smiled lazily. “you don’t have to…”

“i want to,” he said, his voice hushed like the room itself. “let me take care of you.”

he moved slowly, as if every motion carried meaning. with practiced care, he pressed the towel to your skin, wiping gently, never rushing, never too firm. you watched the concentration in his expression, the way his brow furrowed just slightly, like you were something fragile and precious.

he pressed the soft towel against your face, the coolness of the fabric a gentle contrast to the warmth of your skin. the towel glided over your forehead to the gentle slope of your nose, caressing the soft skin along the bridge before gliding over your cheekbones, wiping with tenderness along the curve of your jaw.

his eyes soft and focused on the quiet ritual of tending to you. the air between you felt still, as though time had slowed in those moments.

with a subtle shift, his hands moved to your neck. the towel swept down the length of your throat. from there, his hands traveled to your shoulders.

the towel, slightly damp, moved over to your shoulder blades, gliding with a soft but firm motion as he worked his way across your chest and stomach.

as the towel traveled lower, the fabric travels over the curves of your body until he finishes.

the rain fell harder now, but in here, there was only warmth. breath. skin.

pedro leaned in, kissing your shoulder.

when he finished, he tossed the towel aside and climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket up around both of you. you shifted, nestling into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you like the easiest thing in the world.

“you always do that,” you murmured.

“what?”

“take care of people. even when you’re tired.” his fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine.

“doesn’t feel like work with you,” he said.

“feels like… coming home.”

[winchester-with-wings]

I'm speechless in front of this photo, this man is perfect.