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#trick and curvy
karenwells183 · 2 months
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znf.com/karenwells183
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carolyngregory351 · 2 months
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ticktockstuck-ezodiac · 10 months
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AREXULA Sign of the Shadowless
AR* = Rust Sign • *EXULA = Prospit + Tricks
◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈
#757: A sign for those with a fondness for shrouds and mysterious cowls. They are so deeply entrenched in the night that become indistinguishable from it, and in the daylight are practically invisible.
◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈
Rust Signs • Tricksbound Signs • Prospit Signs
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tomdutch · 2 years
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why is she hulk just slightly taller and more muscular than jennifer walters meanwhile bruce turns into a giant with biceps the size of thor
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tobyneedssleep · 1 year
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When i can’t use my hands as drawing reference because most people’s fingers don’t bend the way mine do so it would look unnatural.
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jen-with-a-pen · 3 months
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𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦
summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.
parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader
word count: 6.5K
warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum
a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.
If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!
gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥
my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥
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𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚
Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is. 
Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter–  to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day. 
You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.
When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.
Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.
After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.
You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week. 
With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.  
Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together. 
Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”
The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival. 
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A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’ 
“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door. 
“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.
You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.
Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger. 
“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.
It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder. 
The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit. 
“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.
“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip. 
Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing. 
“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.
You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.  
“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.
Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.
“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.
You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”
“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink. 
Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it. 
You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time. 
You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell. 
Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.
The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.
“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear. 
“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”
White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.
He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.
“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.
His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.
You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below. 
With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.
“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost. 
“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape. 
“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”
He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully. 
“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.
“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.
“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”
He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.
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The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium. 
There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form. 
Your face burned.
Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?” 
You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.” 
He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.
♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.
You swallowed a groan. 
“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear. 
“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”
“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”
“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”
Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours. 
“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.” 
You wanted to take his finger and break it.  
You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.
You doubted it was convincing.
“Fine.” 
He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion. 
When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.
“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”
“When the hell did you–”
“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.
“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance. 
He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.
The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles. 
“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.
Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.
It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike. 
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The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”
“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. 
Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–
“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously. 
“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side. 
“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.
“Because there’s only one fucking bed?” 
“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.
You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”
His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward. 
You swallowed. “You heard me.”
One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard. 
Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body. 
“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.
“Look at me!” 
“No! Fuck– Get off me!” 
With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.
You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.
“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.” 
His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”
You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone. 
“Is that all, Sergeant?” 
His Adam's apple bobbed.
“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.
“You heard me.” 
The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged. 
“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.
“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”
Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.
“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you. 
And you let him.
“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.
“Holy–fuck, holy shit.” 
Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why. 
He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame. 
“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”
Your heart stopped.
“You’re telling me.”
Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door. 
Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy. 
Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.
Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however. 
He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?” 
You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”
“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.
“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release. 
“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.
“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”
He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”
“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”
“Number fuckin’ one.”
The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core. 
Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.
“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.
He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs. 
“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass. 
SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”
SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”
SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.” 
Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him. 
“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”
You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure. 
“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you. 
“Fuck! Again! Please, again!” 
He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you. 
“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode. 
“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”
“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.
For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile. 
“Thanks.”
He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”
You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”
“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.
“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”
“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.
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kaurtrends · 2 years
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Plus Size Indian Wear for Women #plussize #curvygirl #women #kaurtrends
Plus Size Indian Wear for Women #plussize #curvygirl #women #kaurtrends
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nickfowlerrr · 6 months
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everybody talks
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pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader
warnings: 18+ only. smut, fluff, a bit of angst. unprotected p in v. dirty talk. nipple play. if i’m missing something that needs to be tagged, pls lmk!
words: almost 7.7k
notes: happy halloween 👻 so i had an idea for reclusive neighbor!bucky meeting reader when she stops by his house with a group of kids for trick or treating, and this is very much not that but i think it still works lol. also, i wrote this in a day? i don’t think i’ve ever written more than like 4k in a day before so, yay me!
i wanted to participate in @witchywithwhiskey’s horror movie hoe-a-thon but i decided so last minute and then thought the deadline was the 31st, but i absolutely read the guidelines wrong bc it was actually yesterday and i missed it lol. i’m linking her event still though bc i did use a quote prompt! 🖤
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The loud shaking of the wobbly cart you grabbed in your hurry precedes you as you make your way through the ridiculously crowded grocery store. Normally you would have been mortified - probably would have left the cart and ventured off to grab what you needed sans basket - but you don’t have the time to be concerned about the looks you’re getting as you walk fast down the aisles. 
When your sister asked you for help organizing a family halloween party, you didn’t realize she meant an actual little community family friendly party for the street she lived on.
You had gotten two frozen pizzas, a bag of candy, a case of soda, and some random bags of chips you were sure your nieces would love, just last night. That would have certainly been enough for you, your nieces, and both your sisters, but unfortunately, that wasn’t where the guest list ended. 
The look on her face when you showed up to her house with just those few things would have been funny if she wasn’t already on the brink of a breakdown.
Her husband was out of town for work and she was doing all the halloween prep for Sid herself, thus why she enlisted your help with the party and your younger sister’s help for the trick or treating plans.
Before she could snap and completely lose her cool on you, you were already rushing to the front door, keys still in hand, promising you’d be back within the hour and she had nothing to worry about.
That’s how you found yourself among the crowd of the woefully unprepared this afternoon. 
You loaded the cart with six more frozen pizzas, three family servings of the deli’s hot and ready fried chicken, two packs of halloween cupcakes, two more cases of soda, an extra case of water, and three boxes of capri suns before you started filling the cart with the halloween party snacks you found in the holiday section. 
You were getting a workout as you pushed the basket, less shaky now thanks to the added weight, heading to the candy section to grab a few bags of whatever they had left.
You were distracted by the end cap display as you turned down the aisle and didn’t see the man standing right in front of you, accidentally running into him. Though, running into him sounds like an exaggeration. With how heavy your basket was, and how sturdy the man before you was, it was more like a bump - a love tap. He didn’t even really react to it aside from looking over briefly to you and your basket.
Even still, you apologized profusely, rambling an apology about not looking where you were going before you finally got an actual look at your victim. 
Your words stopped almost abruptly when your eyes met with crystal blues. His stare was icy, but not cold, moreso piercing.
He blinked and broke your trance, offering you a shy smile before he looked away.
“It’s okay, you’re fine,” he said, eyes fixed back on the shelves of candy.
He was dressed in dark denim jeans and a black crewneck sweatshirt, his hair was dark and down to just above his broad shoulders, and the stubble that lined his strong jaw suited him well. You didn’t realize you were staring again until he looked back up at you.
You forced yourself to smile then, ignoring the heat you could feel creeping up your neck and rising to your cheeks.
“Sorry,” you offered with a nervous laugh before you forced the cart behind where he stood to go onward. 
You could have sworn you saw a blush rising to his cheeks as he smiled to himself, avoiding your gaze, but you weren’t entirely sure. 
And you definitely didn’t have the time to ponder on it.
Instead, you began your own search of the shelves to find not only your nieces’ favorites, but your sisters’, too. 
They were both working hard to make their kids’ halloween a good one, they deserved a little treat themselves when all the work was done. You, on the other hand, still single and child free, were planning on treating yourself all night. You were there to help, sure, but most of the work wouldn’t be done by you. You were looking forward to seeing them off to trick or treat and plopping down on your sister’s couch to watch movies for the rest of the night - handing out candy, of course, should any kids come by.
Once the party was set up and over, you’d be free for the night and you couldn’t wait.
You were lucky to find most of what you were looking for, but couldn’t seem to find the last kind of chocolates you wanted to get. 
As your eyes scoured the shelves, you found yourself looking back over to where the handsome stranger still stood. His brows were furrowed as he held up two boxes of full size candy bars, seeming to be debating between the two.
The look of concentration on his face was endearing, you could almost chuckle at how serious in thought he seemed to be over candy.
You smiled to yourself, returning to your search. As your eyes left the man, traveling instead to the rows of candy in front of him, that was when you saw the bag you needed. In the section right where he was standing, because of course they’d be there. 
He huffed in exasperation before you watched him drop both boxes of candy into his cart. He turned to head down the aisle in your direction and his eyes widened slightly when he saw you still standing there.
“Oh, sorry, I’m in your way, aren’t I.”
“No, you’re fine!” You assured him as you left your basket, walking closer to him. “I just needed to grab this,” you said, looking up with the bag in hand. He hadn’t moved from where he stood as you approached, so you were inadvertently in his personal space - but he didn’t make any attempt to move from you. In fact, he looked almost frozen. 
His bright eyes were on you, one hand on his cart, the other clenched by his side. He seemed to go a bit ridge at your proximity, like he didn’t want to make any sudden movements, but he relaxed after a second after seeing your soft smile, blinking at you as his cheeks burned. 
You quickly backed away, hoping to not make him more uncomfortable and to not embarrass yourself further.
You grabbed onto your cart and looked his way once more, meeting his eye again as his sights were already on you. 
You smiled shyly, “Sorry, again, for hitting you,” you offered, “happy halloween.”
He didn’t respond verbally, but he did give you a small nod of acknowledgement.
Your smile grew tighter before you turned and made for the check out, sighing as you rolled your eyes at yourself, mentally chastising yourself for being such an awkward inducing mess. 
The lines were long and as you waited, you had to field a call from your sister, promising her you were checking out and would be back at her house soon.
You finally got through the line and were on your way out the sliding door when your cart almost crashed into another. You gasped as you pulled at your cart to stop, the heavy weight carrying it forward, its momentum causing it to almost ram right into the cart beside it.
The doors were only big enough for one cart to go through at a time, so you looked up to offer whoever it was you almost crashed into the lead.
It was your turn for your eyes to widen as you once again were met with those piercing blues.
“I am so sorry, I’m not doing this on purpose, I swear,” you laughed nervously, backing up a bit so he’d have room to go through the doors. “Go for it,” you said.
He shook his head, “Please,” he gestured for you to go in front, “ladies first.”
Had you not been in a hurry, you would’ve argued that he should go ahead, but seeing as your phone was lighting up with messages from your erratic sister, you smiled and pushed on forward. “Thank you,” you breathed.
You were trying not to pay attention as he followed behind you, but when you got to your car, halting your basket at your trunk, you couldn’t help but notice as he stopped next to you.
You looked over at him, and he looked over at you. He smiled this time, popping his trunk, “What are the odds?”
You tittered, not knowing how to respond. You couldn’t help your smile though as you turned back to your trunk and started putting the bags in.
He himself didn’t have much in the way of bags, and was finished putting his stuff away and taking his cart back by the time you were halfway done putting your stuff in your car.
You saw as he approached his door from your peripheral, and looked up and over in his direction as he abruptly stopped just before he was about to pull open his door.
For a second, he looked like he was about to turn around but then thought better of it, reaching for the door handle again before pulling away once more. 
He squeezed his car keys in his hand before he turned back around, completely this time. You blinked at him, in a bit of a stupor as he came up to you. You waited for him to speak as he opened his mouth before quickly shutting it, taking a breath, then anxiously licking his lips.
“I’m Bucky,” he introduced himself a bit stiffly before his lip quirked up in a nervous half smile. Your brows raised of their own volition before you gave him your name in turn.
He seemed to be relieved by your reply, as if he was worried you would have ignored him, before he took another step closer to your car. “Can I give you a hand?”
“Oh, uhm, sure. That’d be great, thanks.”
“Big plans for the night?” he asked as he slid the packs of soda and the water into the car.
“My sister is hosting a little halloween party for the families on her street before they head out trick or treating tonight, I’m helping her out with setup and food. But after that,” you sighed, putting a few more bags in, “I’m planning on just watching movies between trick or treaters. Nothing crazy. You?” you asked, looking over to him.
“I’m planning pretty much the same. I don’t know how many trick or treaters to expect, I’m new to the neighborhood and… maybe haven’t been the friendliest neighbor,” he cringed to himself as he grabbed the boxes of juice. “But I got the full size candy bars, so…”
“Sprung for the full size, huh? I’m sure those kids’ll love it. You’ll be the talk of the block,” you joked.
His chuckle had you smiling so hard you had to bite your lip to keep from looking like an idiot.
Bucky took the last of the bags from you and set them carefully down before he closed the trunk for you. You were hanging onto the cart, waiting to say bye before you walked it to its home, as he turned, shoving his hands in his pockets before he spoke. He had that anxious look on his face again, his eyes down at the ground while he licked his lips mindlessly before he met your eye.
“I, uhm,” he seemed to register where his hands were then and took them out of his pockets, “I hope this isn’t too presumptuous of me, but, did you maybe, want to exchange numbers?” he asked, bright blue eyes bearing into yours.
Your lips parted unbidden, eyebrows raising in surprise, or more like shock, as your eyes widened.
“You- you want my number?” you asked stupidly. You didn’t give him a chance to answer though before you continued, “Uhm, yeah,” you nodded, “sure.”
The delicate smile on your lips grew as you reached for your phone.
You exchanged numbers and said your goodbyes before you were finally headed back to your sister’s place.
You were smiling like a fool as you drove, a sense of giddy taking over you. This kind of stuff never happened to you. You were still in a bit of disbelief as you pulled into your sister’s driveway, calling her to help you unload but deciding against telling her about your little grocery store meet cute. At least until the party was underway and her stress levels came down.
Grumpy. 
That’s the word you would use to describe your current state.
This was not how tonight was supposed to go. You should be lounging on a couch watching scary movies with a bowl full of candy right now, not clopping down the street in your wedges - a last minute costume thrown together as your niece held your hand and pulled you along with her while your sisters and baby niece strolled behind.
Sidney had thrown a fit when she learned you wouldn’t be coming along for trick or treating and only calmed down when you finally relented and agreed. But of course, you couldn’t just go out in what you were already wearing, no, that would be too easy. You absolutely needed a costume. 
At your sisters’ and niece’s goading, you were forced to put something together. 
You were already in all black, so you snagged the leftover cat ear headband your sister had and made your already done eye look a little more exaggerated. You all left soon after, your niece’s jubilance as she skipped out of the house easing your annoyance at the change of plans. As you started down the driveway, you were cursing yourself for not having brought your sneakers, and your sisters for both having smaller feet than you.
You walked up to house after house with your niece, taking turns switching who was going up to the door every two or three houses. In between houses, you finally told your sisters about the guy you met at the store earlier, how attractive he was, how he helped you load your car, and how he asked for your number before you went your separate ways.
It was nice to be able to talk with them about it, it had been a long time since it had been just the three of you together - no obnoxious boyfriends or overly talkative husbands to interrupt your conversations. You had to say, you were starting to feel a bit more grateful for your niece’s insistence on you joining them.
As you talked to your little sister while she held her daughter, you both watched as your niece tugged on her mom’s hand, refusing to go up the pathway of the house you were now at. As you looked around, you realized everyone else seemed to be avoiding the house, too. You weren’t sure why, though. The porch light was on and there was a cute, though solitary, ghost decoration that would greet you as you walked up the path to the house. 
“What is up with that?” you asked aloud.
As your older sister walked back over, she answered your question. “She doesn’t wanna go, she says it’s haunted.”
You fixed your niece with a look, “What do you mean haunted? Who told you that?”
“Evan and Fifi. They said the metal man lives here and he kills anyone who tries to come in.”
“The metal man, huh? Well,” you said, making a point of looking all around the front of the house, “it looks to me like whoever lives here is ready to pass out candy to anyone brave enough to knock. The lights are on, and did you see the ghost up front? They’re probably just as excited about Halloween as you are.”
“No.” she responded flatly.
“No?” you scoffed. “Ohhh, okay,” you exaggerated, “I get it, you’re too scared to go. That’s all you had to say, Sid, no shame.”
“I’m not scared,” she argued, her face scrunched in annoyance at your insult.
“Really? If you’re not scared then why won’t you go knock on the door?”
She floundered for a second before she narrowed her gaze at you. You wanted to laugh at the low growl that radiated from her but held it together. 
“We’ll all go,” she finally decided, looking all three of you in the eyes to make sure you were all ready to accompany her.
It had been two hours since the trick or treaters had started their nights. 
Bucky could hear the laughter and screams of playful fright as family after family and group after group of friends passed by his house. 
The bowl of king size candy bars sat on his coffee table untouched as It played on his screen. 
Every now and again he’d get up and look out the kitchen window, hoping to see a dead street to make himself feel better about the lack of trick or treaters, but only found the streets full of people.
The more time that passed without a single knock or ringing of his bell, the worse he felt. 
He could lie and say he didn’t know why he was taking this so hard, he wasn’t one to complain about his solitude, but truthfully, he knew why.
He had heard the neighbor kids talking about him the other week, telling tales of horror about the metal man who lived next door. If seeing his arm was all it took to spur their tales and ignite their fear of him, God, he didn’t even want to know what would come if they found out even a little bit of his past. 
And if it wasn’t the kids starting their own urban legend at his expense, it was the adults who would gossip about him at their backyard barbecues. The mysterious man who lived alone and kept to himself was an easy target for lowly neighborhood gossip, and the few people who had pieced together who he was seemed to be tight lipped about it. Anytime they saw him in public, their eyes would bug and they would quickly avert their gaze, like they were scared what would happen if he knew they knew. It’s not like his identity was a secret, but he wasn’t planning on striking up a conversation with them to let them know that. Especially not when they looked at him like that. Like he was some kind of monster.
Even still, he didn’t want to be the social pariah on the block. He hated to think that anyone was scared or weary of him, though he knew most of them were.
He sighed heavily as he checked the time once again. 
So much for that ghost helping to dispel his bad reputation. He’d be requesting the money he spent on it from Sam later, it was his idea for him to get halloween decorations in the first place. He should have known it wouldn’t have helped.
As his phone unlocked with his FaceID, he was tempted to send a message to the woman he’d met earlier in the day. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but he hadn’t felt so disarmed by someone in a very long time. And the fact that she was gorgeous, and didn’t seem the least bit frightened by him, was a nice feeling, too. 
But she was probably watching movies and relaxing by now, he didn’t want to be a disturbance. Tomorrow, though. He’d definitely be messaging her tomorrow.
Another sigh left him as he locked his phone again, tossing it on the coffee table before making his decision.
Bucky paused the movie before he stood, bowl in hand, prepared to take it to the kitchen and shut his porch light off on his way upstairs. It was only gonna get later and he had to accept that no one was going to trick or treat at his house this year.
But just as he was setting the bowl down on the table, he froze.
Was someone actually coming up the porch?
He swore he was just hearing things…but then came a knock.
“You can’t just stand there, Sid, you have to knock or ring the bell, pick one.”
“No.”
“Ugh,” you exaggerated with an eye roll, turning to look at your older sister, “you live with this everyday?”
“Everyday,” she replied.
“Sid, if you don’t knock, you don’t get candy,” you told her.
“If I don’t knock, I don’t get murdered.”
“Alright, fine. I’ll do it myself,” you shrugged, adjusting the cat ears on your head.
You raised your arm to knock on the door, but Sid stopped you, pulling it back down.
“I don’t want you to get murdered, either!”
“Sidney,” you laughed, kneeling to get on her level, “I promise you, no one is going to get murdered. This house isn’t haunted and a murderer doesn’t live here.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” your little sister chimed in, earning a glare from you before you couldn’t help your laugh, shaking your head before turning back to your niece.
“I just met Evan and Fifi at the party, and I know for a fact they were just trying to scare all of you guys. I doubt they’ve ever met whoever it is that lives here. Now, do you trust me?”
Her reluctant nod was your answer.
“Okay. Then I’m gonna knock on the door, and we’re gonna get some candy. Cool?”
“Cool.”
“Cool,” you nodded with a smile before standing back up.
Sid inched back to stand in front of her mom, pulling her arm to hide herself behind as you once again went to knock on the door, this time following through.
You knocked and heard footsteps from within, smiling as you waited for the homeowner to open the door.
Once it opened, though, you found yourself completely taken aback. 
Your breath caught in your throat as a newly familiar pair of brilliant blue eyes met yours.
Bucky stood at the open door, bowl of full size candy bars in hand. He looked just as surprised to see you there as you were him. 
He tilted his head at you, a lopsided grin spreading on his face.
“Trick or treat!” Sidney yelled, seeing the big bars and coming to stand in front of you.
Bucky looked down, smiling as he showed her the bowl, “Happy Halloween,” he said, allowing her to pick which one she wanted.
“I know how this looks, but I swear I’m not stalking you,” you promised.
“I don’t know, it seems like a lotta coincidences for just one day,” he smirked, cooly leaning against his door frame. “Nice costume,” he complimented.
“Ha, thanks,” you smiled, touching the cat ears once again. “Nice ghost,” you nodded toward the lonely decoration, “Really livens up the place,” you teased. 
“That was the intention,” he laughed, a little too glumly for your liking. “You guys are actually the first trick or treaters I’ve had all night, so I guess it didn’t really do its job.”
“Sorry, you guys know each other?” your sister asked.
“Yeah, uh,” you turned briefly, “this is Bucky,” you said.
“Bucky from the grocery store, Bucky?” your little sister asked.
You gave her a look you hoped Bucky didn’t see before answering, “Yes. That Bucky.”
Your sisters introduced themselves to him and as he switched the candy bowl from his right hand to his left, extending his palm to shake their hands, you noticed a glimmer coming from  his left side.
You moved over a bit to allow them room to shake hands and as you looked closer, you realized that, peculiarly enough, his left hand wasn’t made of flesh. 
You scoffed a laugh to yourself at his “metal man” moniker. That made some sense now… In fact, a few things were clicking into place. Bucky, you thought…Bucky Barnes? The Bucky Barnes. You wondered how you hadn’t noticed earlier, not that it mattered, but you were staring, like kind of a lot, at him when you met at the store, and even when he was helping load your groceries. You really must have been distracted by just how gorgeous his face is.
Now that you were really looking at him again, you noticed just how built he was. Strong arms, solid chest, nearly six foot tall if you had to guess. 
Your sister’s laugh brought you back to reality as you followed her gaze to Sid who was now taking a bunch of bars from Bucky’s bowl as he held it out for her again.
“I doubt anyone is coming my way again, so please, take what you want,” he offered to all of you.
“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you smiled as your sisters each took a bar of their own. “We’ll uh, let you get back to your movie,” you said, remembering his plans for tonight.
“The movie, yeah. I think I might have to start it over, actually. I went on my phone for a minute and looked up to see a blood covered bathroom but I have no idea how they got there,” he huffed a laugh at himself.
“Oh, what are you watching?” your little sister asked.
“It,”
“It? No way, that’s so funny. That’s the movie you were gonna watch before we left tonight, isn’t it?” your older sister asked knowingly, a smirk no one but you and your younger sister would ever catch flashing for a microsecond on her lips as she looked at you pointedly.
“Yeah,” you swallowed thickly, “it is,” you said, trying not to let the awkwardness that was eating at you consume you entirely.
“You should stay and watch it,” your little sister suggested, to your complete and utter mortification. Your eyes shot over to her, and you swear, if looks could kill. 
“I’m not just going to invite myself-”
“Come on, like he minds,” she turned to look at Bucky then, her hands still on her stroller holding her baby, “you don’t mind, do you?”
You peek over at Bucky, unsure of how you would even react if you were in his position. He met your eye and his lips quirked in a soft smile. “Not at all. If you wanted to, that is,” he added, offering you an out.
You looked at him a moment before looking over to your smugly smiling sisters and your niece as she tore into one of her candy bars, standing safely between the two of them. You inhaled sharply before looking back to a waiting Bucky. 
You nodded.
“Yeah,” you breathed. “Sounds…fun.”
“Great, well we were heading back anyway. So, see you later?” you sister bid. 
“Or not,” your little sister added teasingly before she shot her gaze over to Bucky once more. “But we do have her location, just so you know,” she added seriously, a hint of a warning in her words.
“Ooo-kay,” you said, breaking the forthcoming tension, “I will text you guys when I’m on my way back,” you told them, urging them to get going.
“It was nice to meet you, Bucky. I trust my sister will get home safe,” your sister said directly.
“I’ll make sure of it,” he responded gallantly while your face felt as if it was literally on fire.
What was this, it was like your parents were dropping you off for your first date in high school. But somehow worse.
She nodded, “And thank you for the candy. Sidney,” she called, getting her daughter’s attention, “what do we say?”
“Thank you! Happy Halloween!”
“You’re very welcome,” Bucky smiled. “Happy Halloween.”
It wasn’t long before you found yourself sitting on Bucky’s couch, a glass of water you had desperately needed sitting before you on the coffee table and Bucky sitting to the left of you, but keeping a respectable distance.
“I’m really sorry about my sisters, by the way. They can be a lot,” you huffed a laugh.
“Don’t be,” he brushed off, “It’s nice to see, honestly.”
You looked over at him, he seemed a bit forlorn before he came back to himself. 
“You know, my niece was almost too scared to come to your door. She said this house is haunted, that ‘the metal man’ lives here and kills anyone who tries to enter.”
“Ah, I see word travels fast when it comes to children.”
“Yeah, you’re kind of like their own urban legend.”
Bucky rolled his eyes playfully as you laughed, lifting a leg up to cross under your thigh as you turned to face him on the couch.
“What?” you asked, “Don’t you want to be an urban legend?”
“Not really,” he laughed with a shake of his head, turning to face you better as well. “Especially not when it leaves me with bowls full of king sized candy bars no one seems to want.”
There’s a pause before he continues,
“Honestly… I don’t like knowing people are scared of me. I mean I’ve known, for a long time, that they are, it’s just.. Different when you can see that fear on their faces, in person.”
You didn’t even realize you were moving as you scooted in closer to him while he spoke.
“I thought the city was bad, but ever since I moved out here, it’s all so much more intimate. The stares are a lot more pointed.” He laughed humorlessly at himself, “I heard a couple kids talking about my arm a few weeks ago and tried to tell myself I didn’t care, but I’ve been wearing nothing but long sleeves every time I go outside now. 
“I’m not ashamed of it,” he said quickly to clarify, “I just, I don’t want them to have to be scared of me.”
“They shouldn’t be scared of you just because you have a prosthetic arm,” you argued, knowing they surely knew nothing else of who he was, “and their parents should probably be leading by better examples.”
“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “what can you do?” He swallowed the lump in his throat that was forming at your defense of him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring all this up-”
“No, I’m sorry, that’s on me. I am incredibly skilled at killing conversations before they even begin.”
“I don’t know about that. You don’t know me well yet, so you don’t know how big of a deal this is, but, I like talking to you,” he smiled. 
You had to look away from his gaze, breathing a laugh as you did. 
The movie was playing on screen, but neither of you were paying any attention to it as you continued talking.
Each time Bucky laughed at your lame jokes, you swore you felt like you were flying. You talked about everything and nothing. You got to know each other better, asking questions about life and preferences and favorites and what-ifs. The conversation flowed so easily, you never even really had to think about what to say next. That definitely wasn’t usual for you, and you liked it. You liked him.
Somewhere along the way, the conversation turned flirty, and again, it was completely effortless. 
Your knees were pressing against one another as you sat across from each other, almost side by side on the couch.
You laughed in unison at a cheesy line Bucky tried on you before a jump scare on the screen had you quite literally jumping. Without thought, you leaned into Bucky, and he had no qualms about it as you hid your face in his shoulder.
He laughed lightly, his arm coming around you and gently rubbing your back before you forced yourself to pull away. His warmth was so nice and welcoming, but if you didn’t back up, you would’ve tried to nuzzle right into his side - you couldn’t risk the embarrassment.
As you turned back to sit next to him though, he kept his arm around you and tugged you in a bit closer. 
You briefly wondered if he could hear your heartbeat, because you definitely could. You thought it might beat out of your chest at any moment as his warm cologne invaded your senses.
“Sorry, I guess I just assumed you liked scary movies,” he laughed.
“Ya know what’s funny is I actually hate scary movies,” you told him, “the It movies are some of the very few that don’t scare me.”
“Oh, that was you not being scared?” he smirked with a raised brow.
“That was- it just, it caught me off guard,” you defended with a smile, absentmindedly leaning more into his hold.
You had never gotten so close to someone in such a short amount of time, emotionally or physically. 
It was foreign, but you enjoyed it. It may have been sudden, but it didn’t feel rushed. 
“You get scared easily?” he asked.
“I’m the biggest scaredy cat I know,” you admitted. “I’m not hard to get a jump out of, I get scared of literally everything,” you laughed at yourself.
You turned to look at him when he didn’t say anything and felt your breath catch in your throat for the second time that night. He was so close to you now, and his eyes were piercing as he took you in, lingering on your lips and sending a chill through you.
The energy between you seemed to shift from something light and playful to something more charged, deliberate.
Your eyes drifted to his lips despite yourself, too.
He leaned in just a touch closer to you and your lips were mere inches away as he spoke,
“You’re not scared of me,” he said, though you weren’t sure if it was a question or not. Still, you responded as if it were.
Leaning in, brushing your lips against his, you breathed, “No.”
His hand was on your head then, keeping you close to him as he pressed his lips against yours, it was fervent, yet delicate, as your lips moved against one another. 
You moved a hand to hold onto his left shoulder and he tugged your body to move you completely over his lap while he continued to lead the kiss.
His metal hand found its way to your plush waist as he held you, squeezing you lightly and inadvertently causing you to sink down lower into his lap while your upper body melted into him.
His hand slid from your waist to your ass, grabbing you through your leggings, kneading your ample flesh in his large palm.
You moaned into his mouth and that seemed to spur him on because in the blink of an eye you found yourself being flipped onto your back as he pinned you beneath his large body.
When he finally broke the kiss, you were both panting, your hands fisted in his sweatshirt as his wandered your curves. 
“Do you have a bed?” you breathed, pulling him back down to be closer to you, wanting desperately to have his lips on yours once more. He nodded.
“Glad you asked,” he returned, voice low and husky.
You yelped as Bucky lifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you with ease while you clung to him like your life depended on it. If he dropped you, you weren’t sure you’d be able to recover from the embarrassment. But as he began up the steps and his hold didn’t falter for a single second, you realized maybe there wasn’t anything to worry about.. He held you like you weighed nothing and honestly, it sent a new wave of arousal through you as he reached the door of his bedroom.
He tossed you down on his bed carefully, but stopped you before you could begin tugging your leggings down your thick thighs. 
You looked at him, confused and with a touch of worry you were about to be rejected.
“I’m sorry,” he began, “I should’ve said this before I brought you up here,”
That did nothing to ease your worry…
“I really like you. And I think there could be something real here between us, I don’t want to ruin that. So if you were only here for one night,-”
“I really like you, too,” you cut him off, eyes gleaming into his, “And I think you’re right, I don’t wanna ruin it either. I wasn’t planning for this to be a one night stand, but if you want to take things slower, I don’t have a problem with that.”
“No, I’m good with where we were heading, I just wanted to make it clear that I don’t want this to be just tonight.”
You nodded, a little breathless as you smiled up at him. 
“Same page, then.”
“Good,” he grinned before pushing you to lie back on his bed as he descended upon you. 
His lips were on your neck and as he sucked on your sweet spot, you couldn’t contain the soft moan that passed your lips. 
His hands found the waistband of your bottoms and he pulled them down as much as he could manage before you lifted your hips and wiggled a bit to assist him in getting them off of you. 
You pulled impatiently at the buckle of his jeans, earning a chuckle from him before he got to work taking them off. 
While he got rid of his jeans, you pulled your shirt up and over your head, catching on the cat ears you had forgotten you were wearing. You threw them all to the side, unclasping your bra as Bucky shrugged his sweatshirt off over his head in turn.
He was back on top of you in an instant, pulling your bra off of you and tossing it to land with the rest of your discarded clothes off the side of the bed.
His large hands immediately went to your breasts, admiring the soft, heavy feel of them in his hands while he palmed them, squeezing slightly as he felt you.
You mewled under his attention, eyes closed in delight as his touch only added fuel to the fire burning in your core. 
When he leaned down and took a pert nipple into his mouth, kissing and sucking on your tit, your hand found his hair as you gasped at the sensation, holding him to you, enjoying the feeling of his mouth on your breasts.
You could feel the wetness growing between your legs as he continued to have his fun, unconsciously rutting his thick cock against you when you’d moan for him.
As he traveled down your body, his hands following your curves and his lips kissing every inch of you that he could, he paid special attention to your tummy before he traveled even lower. 
You were a writhing mess as you felt his warm breath on your folds. When your hips bucked up into his face and you felt his lips brushing your cunt, you whined obscenely at the feeling. Bucky laughed tauntingly, holding your hips back down as he poked his tongue out past his plump lips, lightly licking your folds and your sensitive clit as you gripped his hair and urged him closer, wanting, needing more.
He finally took mercy on you after a long, torturous minute, spreading you open for him before he ate you out like a man starved. 
His tongue glided all over your slick cunt, dipping in and out of your tight entrance, before coming back up to flick your clit. 
He drew figure eights over the sensitive bud and you swore you were about to come undone from that alone, but when he sunk his thick digits into your dripping pussy, curling them just right, rubbing against that special spot perfectly, you were seeing stars as your thighs threatened to clamp around his head while you shook from your orgasm. Your walls clamped down on his fingers as you came and he moaned at the feeling as he worked you through the high, more than ready to finally get his cock inside you.
“Doll, you look so gorgeous like this,” he admired as he held himself above you, “naked and sweaty beneath me. Like a fucking goddess,” he praised, grabbing his erection and positioning himself at your entrance. 
“You sure you’re ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked, running his cockhead up and down your dripping slit. 
“Yes, Bucky, please,” you moaned pathetically, spreading your legs as wide as you could for him.
“Mm, I love the way you say my name, doll,” he groaned as he pushed just his tip inside your tight cunt, moving in and out of you as you whined for him.
“God, please, Bucky, please fuck me! I want it so bad,” you whimpered. “I wanna feel you fill me up, please.”
The growl that left his throat had your pussy fluttering, squeezing around nothing before he finally gave you what you wanted.  With one hard, deep stroke, he was fully seated inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut as you gasped sharply, your hands gripping onto him wherever you could as he began to set his pace. With every thrust of his hips into you, he was hitting deeper and deeper inside your cunt.
“Oh, fuck,” you cried.
“There you go, sweetheart. Take all ‘a my cock inside this tight pussy, taking me so fuckin’ well,” his hands were tight on your hips as he fucked into you. “This what you wanted, doll?” he panted, his pace never faltering as he fucked you harder, the slapping sound of skin on skin and his balls hitting your cunt with his every thrust filled the room, mingled with your moans and whimpers and his grunts and growls. “Wanted this big dick to stretch you out, huh? Wanted to feel me fill you up with my hot cum til I’m dripping outta you.”
One of his hands left your hip and instead went to grab at your breasts again, his large hand palming your tit as he squeezed and kneaded, flicking his thumb over your nipple and only adding to the pleasure threatening to send you over the edge.
“God, yes! Please, fucking yes, Bucky, please, please, please, please” you begged pathetically, reaching a hand down to find your clit, working your bud in circles as your walls tightened around his thick cock. 
Your eyes were about to roll into the back of your head as you moaned senselessly, Bucky’s hand leaving your chest and nudging your own away from your clit. He replaced your hand and circled your clit perfectly as he continued rolling his hips into yours, his pace growing more erratic and the words leaving his beautiful lips growing filthier the closer he got to his own end. 
With one perfectly angled thrust, you were crying as your body shook at the intensity of your orgasm. Wave after wave of nerve tingling pleasure lighting you up as you rode out the high. Your toes curled, legs wrapped around him as much as they could be while he grabbed at your body, falling down closer to you as he moaned, holding your body tighter as he pumped his hips, “Fuck,” he growled as he pushed himself as deep inside of you as he could, his eyes squeezing shut, holding himself there as he came, his body shaking some as he attempted to thrust once more. 
You moaned at the feeling of him painting your walls, your hands in his hair as he buried his face in your neck, holding him to you. He stayed inside of you for a long minute as you both panted, trying to catch your breath, while he ensured he got all of his load out before he finally pushed himself up off of you, gently sliding out of you.
He flipped over next to you, laying on his back before he pulled you into him. Your hand rested on his chest as you laid in his left arm.
“Holy fuck,” you breathed, your fingers playing in his chest hair mindlessly as you worked to catch your breath.
His hand was running up and down your side soothingly as he moved to try and meet your eye.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
“Yeah,” you assured him. “I’m better than okay, honestly. That was…amazing.”
“Good, I’m glad,” he smiled, “but still, I’m sorry if I got carried away. I tend to run my mouth when I’m, uh,” he fumbled with his words, “ya know, in the moment.” 
He looked so bashful, you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his expression.
“You just said all of what you just said, but you had trouble with that?” you tittered, rubbing his chest before turning further into him, laying on your side as he stayed on his back, propping his right hand under his head as he relaxed into the position. “But really, Bucky, you don’t have to apologize. I don’t know if you could tell, but…I really liked it,” you simpered sensually.
Bucky smiled at you as you leaned up to meet his lips in a soft kiss. 
“It’s probably way late now, right?” you asked as you pulled away from him. “I should probably head back.”
Bucky sat up after you, “Do you have to?” he asked softly.
You looked back at him, his blue eyes set on you. You nipped at your lower lip before shaking your head lightly. A new, sweeter excitement washing over you.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you could stay for the night,” he offered. “I was hoping I could take you for breakfast in the morning?”
Your heart skipped a beat at the hopeful look in Bucky’s eyes as he waited for your response. That giddiness you felt earlier came over you once again as you held his gaze.
“Yeah,” you smiled. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
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tojisun · 6 months
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girllll...
i was drivin on this curvy road by my uni and there was this guy on a motorbike and he was like yk how when they go round curves they get so low to the ground.. he was fr like that and ofc im like omg so cool and i looked shocked
THIS MF BLEW ME A KISS.
crying.. so biker!simon coded
THAT IS SO FUCKIN AHHHHHHHHH OMG WHAT!,)&/&;&
one: YOU DESERVE THE SMOOCHES!! apparently (pls do not quote me on this) it takes skill to be able to maneuver the bike so close to the ground without flat out tipping over and skidding!! so just- no yea that man was putting on a show sweetheart hhhhhsg
two: NO YEA WHENEVER THEY DO THAT I FANGIRL SM BC ITS SO COOL!!
and simon def does that ahhhhhhhrhrhh!!
i love thinking that thats one of his most liked videos on his page so when you stalked his socials (after the first night ykyk) and saw that video, well, who can blame you for fangirling? you practically searched up more of his tricks, devouring each video and even going so far to bookmarking them to rewatch.
one day, when you and simon are closer (sparks flying and all that), you asked him to recreate that video for you. you were expecting a silly little trick, a display of his skill, but when has simon ever settled for anything less than unexpected?
so there you were, a passenger princess to kyle – who had agreed to drive you on your car so you can film simon doing his trick – watching as simon rounds the sloping highway, tipping so close to the asphalt, before tilting his helmeted head towards the direction of your car. he points at you (sure, yeah, he pointed at what probably had been a vague shape of your car) then blew a kiss towards your direction.
kyle chokes on his laughter at hearing the aborted squeal that ripped out of your throat.
(simon posts the video and tags your account. the speculation about you being simon’s girlfriend starts from there.)
-
simon being a show off is so sexy to me ughhhhdhdh thank u my love for sending this in because this gave me butterflies in my stomach my goodnessshjr
(biker!simon mlist)
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OPHECULA Sign of the Pictorial
OPH(I)* = Peridot Sign • *ECULA = Derse + Tricks
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#662: A sign for the perceptive and bright who see the world through a different lens. Their memory is vivid but they have a tendency to leave no detail unmentioned, whether it should stay unsaid or otherwise. Within the Verse, this sign's latest bearer was a victim of Chahut Maenad's fatal scrapbooking spree, and is currently spending their eternity as a photograph.
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Peridot Signs • Tricksbound Signs • Derse Signs
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gemini-sensei · 8 months
Text
Pretty Boy, Good Girl | Robby Keene x Chubby!Reader
Fem!Reader ○ S1 Robby ○ Smut
(@sensei-venus)
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"Hey, pretty boy!"
Robby looked up, seeing a girl leaning over the rail from a ledge that overlooked the skatepark. She was curvy with wide hips and fat tits that were held in a tight tank top. She was sucking up some sun as it was a bright day, hardly any clouds rolling in, and she held a round lollipop. She waved at him before putting the sweet treat back in her mouth, and he couldn't help watching the way her lips wrapped around it.
He checked her out a little longer, especially her chest as she stood bent over the rail, and smirked. He licked his lips, then turned to the bowl to skate a little more. He showed off a bit, doing a few tricks. He'd look over ever so often to see if he was being watched, finding some pride when he saw her smile.
He didn't keep it up too long, eventually walking over to the girl. "And what's your name, beautiful?"
Reader grinned and introduced herself. He leaned against the railing beside her and watched her suck on the lollipop. They flirted a little bit until her candy was all gone, at which point she got closer to Robby. A few touches and sweet words later she was leading him to her car, where they climbed in the hatchback.
They weren't complete strangers. They went to different schools, but they'd passed each other on the street. She came by the skatepark often with some friends and he'd see her there, laughing and having a fun time. She'd watch him from afar, eventually getting the courage to ask him out in one way or another.
He was sitting against the wall of the car, his pants around his ankles and her hot mouth in him. She sucked on the head of his dick hard, looking up at him with her pretty eyes. As soon as he made eye contact with her, she closed her eyes and took more of him into her mouth. He bit his lip and groaned, feeling his tip hit the back of her throat. She gagged a little bit but kept going. As she brought her head up, she hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard.
"Oh fuck," he grunted.
He felt like he was in heaven, even though the back of her car was a lit hot and getting stuffy. He panted hard, hands planted on the floorboard, and held back from trusting up into her mouth. It was so good, but only got better when she started deepthroating him.
She made him come a lot faster than he wanted to, but he didn't care too much as he tried to catch his breath. She sat up and swallowed the fat loud he'd filled her mouth with, a little bit dribbling down the corner of her mouth. He wiped it away with his thumb and pushed it into her mouth. She moaned with surprise, then licked it clean.
"You're such a good girl," he said, smirking at her as she grinned at the praise. She nodded and he bit his lip. "Good girls deserve rewards. What do you want?"
"You're cock," she whispered softly, licking her lips.
He used his free hand to pump his cock and keep it hard. She looked down to watch, the taste of his cum still on her tongue. Her panties were getting wetter by the second and she couldn't take it anymore, so she shimmered out of them and tossed them over the seat. Robby took her hips into his hands as she came closer to him, her knees on either side of him.
"Is this okay?" He asked, looking up at her as she stood on her knees before him. He secretly loved this angle, seeing her over him like this, and he couldn't wait to feel her sit on his lap and ride his cock. He rubbed the tip through her folds, wetting his already saliva-lubed cock with her essence.
She nodded, anchoring herself by grabbing his shoulders. Just the simple touch of his cock to her folds was tantalizing and ticking away at her winning patience. Then, she slowly started lowering herself onto his cock, letting out a low moan. He stretched her open deliciously but she kept going until she was fully seated on his lap. His hands slipped down and grabbed her fat ass by the handfuls, pulling her close against him.
"Oh my god," she moaned, eyes rolling up. Her chest pushed against his, though they still wore their shirts. It still felt good and her hardened nipples were still stimulated and her head was spinning. "Fuck, you're so big"
She took little time for herself to adjust to his size, knowing they had little time to fuck in the back of a public park's parking lot. So she began grinding her hips down on him harshly, knowing if she started bouncing she might hit her head on the roof. Keeping things quick and simple was the way to go and Robby helped her in that endeavor, lightly pulling her forward with the tight hold he had on her ass. For the most part, she was in control and he was almost drooling over it.
She moaned so pretty as he grunted and groaned under her, watching the place where they met and the mess they were making. She was gushing with arousal, it dripping down his balls as they went at it. The closer she got to coming, the louder she got, at which point he pulled her in for a deep, heady kiss where he tasted himself on her and groaned into her mouth. It was so hot.
"I'm gonna come soon," he warned her.
She half nodded. "Me too."
It would end up being he would come first, holding onto the rolls up her side as a means of anchoring. Her walls constricted around him tight as he throbbed and pumped her full of his cum. Despite it being his second orgasm, he came quite a bit, overfilling her cunt to the point it began to leak out around his shaft. Then it wasn't long after that, she came and pulled what weak shots he had left for her out of him. It was heavy as the mess settled between them, far too much to just clean up and part ways.
But she didn't seem to mind as she collapsed against his chest, her head falling onto his shoulder. She panted hard as it all came to a standstill and he went soft inside her.
When they got their bearing together, she giggled and mentioned the mess that there was no point in trying to hastily clean up. "That's gonna need a lot more than just some towels."
"Yeah," he huffed. His eyes widened as she lifted herself off of him, seething as his sensitive cock slipped out of her. Then a hefty amount of cum followed from her cunt and slid down his cock to his balls. "Oh fuck."
"You can always come to my place and get cleaned up," she suggested, wearing a cheeky grin. There was a glint in her eyes that he found he agreed with, and it said: We're not done yet.
He nodded. "Okay."
So they made themselves presentable and got into the front seats. She drove him toward her place with one hand on his cock, making a mess of his pants as she palmed him all the way there. He kept his eyes on her most of the time until he realized they were driving into a cushy, upscale neighborhood and he was checking out the houses ten times bigger than his apartment.
He had no idea what he'd just gotten himself into, but when she led him into her house and up to her thousand-dollar bathroom, he happily fucked her in her lush, far from a little shower. Their fun had only just begun.
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vampireimiko · 9 months
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Could I request neuvillette x male reader?
M!reader personality: flirty, mischievous, hard to fluster, can be extremely rude, can be perverted
M!reader region: fontaine
M!reader species: kitsune
M!reader occupation: model
M!reader looks: Slim, curvy, shoulder length hair, shorter than average, he also wears heals most of the time
Extra
Likes: Modeling, skincare, makeup, getting his nails/hair done
Dislikes: getting his makeup ruined, getting his hair ruined, dirty things
M!reader extra: extremely popular, extremely attractive, cares alot about his looks, wears some makeup(eyeliner, mascara and lipstick) can be a bit of a narcissist sometimes
Oh and could he be more submissive in the relationship (not sexually)
Neuvillette x Male! Reader Headcanons
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warnings, none !!
note, GAHHH THIS HAS BEEN DONE FOR A FEW DAYS NOW 🤕 I've just been sick and busy 😭🙏🏾 also i need more genshin mutuals so hmu 🤓☝🏾
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જ⁀➴ How you and Neuvillette got together will always be a mystery to the citizens of Fontaine. You two were the complete opposite of one another—where you were flashy and always embraced extravagance, Neuvillette was mostly quiet, speaking only when necessary, and approaching things with simplicity.
જ⁀➴ But against all odds, you and Neuvillette found a way to be together. He became the steady and supportive boyfriend who held the fort in Fontaine, while you embodied the charismatic persona that seemed to charm its way into everything you desired, often accompanied by an effortless air of confidence.
જ⁀➴ Neuvillette's days were consumed by the responsibilities of his position as Chief Justice. On the other hand, you reveled in the luxuries that life in Fontaine provided, a lifestyle that resonated with your natural inclination for the extravagant. You were known not just for your striking looks and unique aura but also for your audacious approach to life.
જ⁀➴ Speaking of couple activities, you found immense joy in playing tricks on Neuvillette, fully embracing your Kitsune nature. From innocently hidden notes to elaborate pranks, you delighted in bringing moments of surprise and laughter into his orderly world. The faintest smile would dance at the corners of Neuvillette's lips, a testament to your success in tugging him out of his formal shell, if only momentarily.
જ⁀➴ Your mischievousness, paired with your innate flirty and perceptive nature, often led to playful banter and witty exchanges between you two. Neuvillette, who rarely allowed himself to be easily flustered, found himself occasionally caught off guard by your audacious comments and innuendos. It was a dance of wit and charm, a constant push and pull that brought a dynamic energy to your relationship.
જ⁀➴ As a model, you knew the value of appearances and the art of presenting oneself flawlessly. It was a commonality that further bonded you and Neuvillette. He might have held a position of authority, but your shared appreciation for grooming and style connected you on a different level. There were instances when you both would spend leisurely evenings together, experimenting with skincare routines or discussing the latest trends in fashion.
જ⁀➴ Despite your sometimes provocative nature, you respected Neuvillette's reserved demeanor. It was in those quiet moments that you found yourself drawn to his depth, his thoughtful perspectives on matters that transcended the superficial. Neuvillette's presence allowed you to explore your own complexity, inspiring you to embrace more facets of your personality beyond the outward flamboyance.
જ⁀➴ So with that being said, you and Neuvillette were definitely opposites of each other through and through. But you loved and cared for one another dearly, despite the contrast of your personalities.
𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄... 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬💀 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥) 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !
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𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
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zerobaseone-zhanghao · 3 months
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your body speaks for itself
tw: a little talk about sexy curvy women, a little suggestive maybe?, a little flirty fun, their hips don’t lie
a/n: hii guys! this is the first time I’ve ever written on tumblr and also the first time I’ve written wlw/bada content, it’s not insanely long but hopefully all goes well!
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Jam Republic is known for their ability to pull off mature, sexy concepts, what can they say? they are blessed with beautiful bodies. The other groups on SWF2 admire the girls for this especially bebe, with them also being on the younger side, they admire Jam’s talents when it comes to being sexy and pulling off sexy moves.
bebe’s leader Bada is very interested to learn more about sexy female empowerment type dance and who better to learn from than Jam.
Y/N is a member of Jam Republic, she is known for her sexyness in her dance but also just in general, she has an amazing body, her style is kinda like a mix of Redlic and Latrice. It’s obvious that this is who Bada wants to learn from.
The night prior, Y/N received a dm from Bada asking if she had any free time tomorrow to teach her a few sexy moves to which Y/N replied yess with the time she had free and told Bada that she was looking forward to teaching her.
Bada walks into the agreed practice room to see that Y/N is already waiting for her “let’s get started” “yes teacher”, they stand in front of the mirror as Y/N begins to show Bada a few sexy tricks to make others fall for her. She begins rolling her hips as Bada follows, she seems a bit stiff, she looks tense too, she makes her way towards Bada, standing behind her, looking at her in the mirror. They make eye contact, “can I help you?” Y/N asks politely which makes Bada automatically nod, she grabs Bada’s small waist, slightly stroking her before moving up to her shoulders, running her hands up and down her arms to calm her down.
“You’re so tense, just relax, I don’t bite” she whispers making Bada shudder, Y/N’s hands trail back down to Bada’s waist, helping her to move more freely, she admires Bada’s waist as it moves with her hips. She quickly snaps out of her trance when Bada asks if she’s doing okay, “umm yep you’re doing great!” “are you okay?” Bada asks “yeah yeah no I’m okay” Bada smirks seeing her cheeks go red
“Am I making you shy?” “No.. maybe.. a little” “for being the sexiest member of Jam Republic, you’re very cute” Bada says making Y/N’s cheeks even more red “s-stop” Bada gets bold and backs her into the wall, propping her hands at the sides of Y/N’s head “can I kiss you?” Bada asks “please” she whispers, Bada leans in and connects they’re lips, they’re soft and plump, she wraps her arms around Bada’s neck pulling her closer deepening the kiss, they break away once they are out of breath “did I do a good job today, teacher?” “I’m pretty sure your body speaks for itself”
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ddollfface · 3 months
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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿
Trigger Warnings; bad writing, lovesick behavior, reader is called 'my girl' multiple times, reader is described as more 'curvy' (in LoveSick!Bimbo's specifically), fluffy, nothing too bad. If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Hey, I'm sorry I've been so absent recently, but that's just because of personal issues. And I'd also like to say that I'm not going to be the most active writer on the app, sooo um sorry 'bout that. I'm just not very motivated to really do anything, so yeah. I hope ya'll enjoy :)))
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𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝘼𝙩𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚
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All of the Above. Any way he can show you affection, he will. Nothing is holding him back from hugging you, kissing you, or holding your hand. He has no fear. I mean, what are you going to do? Push him away? Yeah, right. And this is when his ego gets in the way. He can't comprehend why you wouldn't want to touch him, besides, he wants to touch you! He wants to love you, hold you, and protect you! Why wouldn't you want that?
He also enjoys buying you things. Whether it be a fancy dress, some makeup, paint, hell, it can even be a football or something! He doesn't judge (though he'd prefer you to be pliant, little you, someone he can protect). If you need something, whether it be for classes, a hobby, or anything of the sort, he'll pay for it! First date? Nope, don't even reach into your bag; he's got you! Want a coffee/tea/etc.? Babe, I better not see your card out right now. Who do you think I am? A bum? I take care of my girl.
He likes spending time with you, too. You're practically his best friend, after all! He likes to bring you to his practices, and games, wanting you to watch him. The majority of the time, whenever you're there, he'll purposefully show off, wanting you to know that he's husband material! He can protect you and your future children, don't worry! Just let him take care of you!
But he'll also come to any events you're a part of. Say you do theater, he's coming to every performance, the same if you do any performing art. If you do a sport (he'd be ecstatic btw), then he's coming to your practices, teaching different tips and tricks, and most importantly, he's giving you a "good luck kiss" (as he likes to call them). And if you're an artist or some sort, then he'll offer to be a model for you. He's not afraid to strip if it's for you. No matter how far you two are in the relationship, there's no hesitation in his voice when he looks at you, snarkily saying, C'mon sweets, paint me like I'm one of your French girls, yeah?
His affection doesn't stop there. I've dabbled in this concept before, but LoveSick!Athlete also loves to call you nicknames, and they're never-ending. He'll think of a new one for you every day! Honestly, it's interesting to see what he'll think of next. He has a wide variety and they span from how pretty you are, to your ass, and back to your sweet personality!
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𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙋𝙤𝙚𝙩
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Gift Giving. LoveSick!Poet is far too nervous to talk to you. He'd shit himself if he ever called you something sweet like 'baby' or 'sweetheart', he thinks that his heart would implode. That's far too much for him. You're too much for him, too good to him, so he resorts to giving, giving, giving. He'll sneak you little poems he made about you, all flustered when you compliment his writing, how good he is. He'll get you a bouquet of flowers, all purple lilacs. LoveSick!Poet will go down to the nearest bakery, your favorite bakery, and leave you a small box of conchas, a sticky note stuck to the top of the box. It read 'I love your dress today, it looks beautiful on you :)'. He's so sweet, isn't he?
Quality Time. Similar to gift giving, it's a way for him to be affectionate without facing you. LoveSick!Poet doesn't have the best image of himself, finding your relationship with him to be a miracle, something to be worshiped, and admired. You want to go to the mall? Okay, he's on his way. Want to go out to eat? Where? When? He'll be there, but bare with him. He's not the most well-off man in New York, money's tight, right? And don't get him wrong, he feels bad. He'll constantly tell you so, going on about how he really wants to take care of you. And I'm sorry that I can't take you to the East Side, and we're stuck at the small cafe... I want to treat you, you really deserve the best, d-darling...
He just enjoys your presence overall, so any time he spends with you is a good time for him. LoveSick!Poet doesn't mind just sitting in silence, watching you do what you love. If you work at a cafe, restaurant, or anything of the sort, he'll show up to your work and just watch you do your thing. Depending on how you take his constant staring, he'll ask you for your number or how you're doing. He'll order something and have some, albeit awkward, small talk with you, wanting to know that you're doing well.
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𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝘽𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙤
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Physical Affection. LoveSick!Bimbo is very, very, very affectionate with most people, but it's doubled whenever she's around you. Honestly, she can't help herself. She has to be touching you at some point. She just finds you to be so adorable! She wants to show her appreciation for you and your body! Of course, she'll always let you cop a feel, if you want.
She wants to have a hand on your thigh, intertwine your fingers, and even hug you. She'll always have her chest pressed against your arm, not matter you height. And believe me, she's a tall girl, but she doesn't seem to mind the stares you get from men and some women.
Verbal Affection. Not only is she physically affectionate, but she's also very sweet with her words. No matter what time of day it is, or where she is, she'll always be calling you some sweet name. She likes to compliment you and your body, making sure you're never feeling insecure. After all, she can't have her darling feeling bad about themselves when they look like that! You're always beautiful and she'll make sure you know it. She can't help but let compliments slip out, saying how your body is just so perfect! You're literally like my missing puzzle piece, babes! Like what would I do without ya' curves!!
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𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙
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Verbal Affection. Now, she's not complimenting you constantly (like LoveSick!Athlete and LoveSick!Bimbo), but she does give you affirmations. If you did well on a test, then she'll tell you how you're so smart. I'm just so lucky I got stuck with a sweet girl like you. You make me so proud.
She'll never hold back saying 'I love you', nope, never. She's very caring in that sense, seeing as you've been friends for so long. She knows what you like, after watching you and your exes interact. LoveSick!Friend isn't afraid to pat your head and kiss you on the cheek, but it's not her go-to, y'know? So she always falls back on giving you assurance, that way you'll never doubt yourself. You're doing so great, babe. Just keep doing what you're doing, I'm here to help.
Acts of Service. LoveSick!Friend washes the dishes, does the laundry, and cooks the dinners. If you're ever feeling under the weather, then she'll become your little servant, always at your beck and call. She just wants you to be taken care of. She wants you to know that she's always going to be there for you, and you don't need some man to be here. All you need is her, so you should just delete that dating app, no?
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𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩
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Verbal Affection. LoveSick!Artist is sweet with his words, knowing just what to say to get you all flustered and embarrassed. His voice is deep, soft, and comforting. He'll give you reassurance and soft words, speaking softly to you. He doesn't call you pet names too often, though he'll sometimes pull out 'sweets' or 'baby' if he's feeling extra nice that day. Most of the time, he prefers to use your name, finding it to be comforting. He likes your name, pleased by how the syllables roll off his tongue. It's the name for you, he prefers that you use his given name, instead of 'babe' or 'bubba'. It makes him feel closer to you and he'll tell you that. He'll go on about how, y'know, you're voice is real sweet, just prefer hearin' ya' say my name all the time. Makes a guy all giddy inside.
Gift giving. He likes to draw you, a lot. Whenever you pop into his mind, which is every waking second, he'll draw you, having to express his thoughts somehow. Sometimes, he'll have you right in front of him, modeling for him.
He likes to give you these drawings, well, only the PG ones. After all, he doesn't think you'd be able to handle it, getting too flustered and overwhelmed by how detailed he can get. But that's not the point, the point is that he likes to draw you, and for you. He draws the world around him and then gives it to you, wanting to share his talent with you. And you're always excited about it, enjoying your boy/friend's (depending on the timeline) talent.
Quality Time. Listen, LoveSick!Artist is very monotone, preferring to be calm, and by himself. He doesn't like parties, being in big groups, or loud music. He just wants to be with his close friends, you. It doesn't have to be a shared activity, where the two of you are talking. Actually, he prefers to do his own thing, and you do yours, just the both of you enjoying each other's presence. He'll be painting and you'll be doing homework, cleaning, reading, writing, whatever. He doesn't care too much.
It's like that one friend, the one where you can not talk for months and months, but when you two reunite, you're acting as if nothing changed. That's exactly how he treats your relationship. He doesn't need to be with you 24/7, if anything, he prefers to have some alone time.
Now, for this last part, I'm not too sure what category this would be under, but LoveSick!Artist is quite built, meaning he works out a lot. He's very strong. And he gives off scary dog privileges, much to your content. He enjoys protecting you, holding you close, and making sure no man is giving you any funny looks.
I think that may be described as physical affection, but it still doesn't feel right to me. LoveSick!Artist isn't necessarily the most touchy person, seeing as he likes to keep to himself, but that won't stop him from getting possessive. He's very, very, very aggressive towards other men, especially when you're involved. He already doesn't trust men, but when he sees the way they look at you, it causes him to spiral. Out of all my LoveSick!Characters, I think that LoveSick!Artist is the most likely to kill in your name. C'mon don't be like that, did ya' see how he was looking at you? Like a piece of meat, is what.
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ofstardustanddreaming · 3 months
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curves
headcanon summary: gale dating a curvy reader
content warnings: some mentions of insecurity
fandom: baldur's gate 3
character: gale dekiros x reader
female reader
anon request (thanks for this request, i always love a good body positivity fic!)
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gale loves any type of body, don't even try to change my mind around here. when you catch his eye, it feels like his breath has been taken away. he always tries to find the time to get to know you and try to get any indication across that he wants to date you. he always hangs around you and always tries to be your camp partner in various camp activities, or tries to partner with you in various fights across your journey.
he's captivated by your beauty and personality, and he earnestly tries to get your attention, hoping his looks and personality would catch your attention as well. he would always talk about interesting facts he's heard about, and it worries him that he's rambling to you and it's boring you, but when he catches you looking at him with genuine interest, he finds his breath catching in his throat.
both of you have your insecurities that prevent you from asking each other out, thinking the other person couldn't possibly want them. hearing so much about what people had to say about gale's rambling, he was worried that might deter you from his personality, and hearing what many had to say about your body, you were worried he be deterred from your looks.
and it's not to say you look bad! but unfortunately society likes to stick its claws into beauty standards, and it always made you worried about how you should present yourself around people. it made you worried about any lingering looks your way. which is why you were always conscious of yourself whenever gale looked your way for longer than a few seconds or whenever he looked so intently at you whenever you were speaking to each other.
yet, you both still got along very well and you knew that gale was a good friend. and you found yourself wanting more than a friendship after a while, and so did he. you were both just so insecure and caught up with yourselves, your nerves weren't allowing you guys to confess quite yet.
but it's okay, because many members had to witness the two of you dancing around your feelings, and were frankly getting sick of the dance after a while. wyll, karlach, and astarion were hatching their plan to push you together, with some encouragement from halsin, shadowheart, and lae'zel. the latter wanted you together, but knew the previous might be better for the planning and the execution.
but they had managed to concoct a plan to get you to confess to each other, and it was sweet. you both had a private moment in the woods, where gale was showing you a knew trick he was learning, and you finally confessed. "i like you a lot. i'd really like a relationship."
that's what you told him, intently looking at his trick still, to nervous to look at his reaction. but he turns you towards him, his hand drifting down towards your hip. "i like you too and that relationship sounds wonderful. i was certain there was no feelings from your end, i thought my rambling may have gotten to you." he sayid, shyly glancing down and then back at your face.
"oh, i love learning about anything you've learned about. if anything, i thought you may have not been attracted to my body. it's usually the first thing someone has to say in my experience." you feel like you're about to curl into yourself, worried he might agree with what those in the past have said.
"i really think you're one of the most attractive woman i've seen, truth be told. i've found you breath taking since the first time i've set my eyes on you. you've enchanted me, body and all." he says, grabbing you closer by the waist, and you both tentatively kiss each other, which turns into a passionate kiss in itself over the course of the next few minutes.
but yeah, gale is absolutely the kind of partner to listen to any insecurities you may have about being curvier/plus sized. but he will absolutely shut those insecurities down, ensuring that your body size is one of the first things he was enraptured by, to only be sealed by your personality, and he found love in you. which is one of the important things he values, and he assures you your body could not turn him away from finding what he loves. gale is a sweetheart when it comes to building confidence up in yourself. and i won't be hearing otherwise lol.
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angel-of-the-moons · 6 months
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Trick or Treat
Miguel x Curvy!Fem!Reader
TW/CW: None, other than Miguel being a bit thirsty (haha pun intended you'll see what I mean)
A/N: Thanks to @obi-mom-kenobi for the fic idea for spooky day™! (I'm sorry the plot got off track, though asdfghjkl)
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🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷
He should have figured something like this would have happened.
He should have figured that he would do this.
Goddamn Deadpool.
Of course he caused a ruckus in one of the other universes, just to hop to this one to avoid Miguel, taunting him the whole time.
And naturally, it had to be fucking Halloween of all nights in this universe.
Among the Michaels, Jasons, goblins, ghouls, and witches and werewolves there were superheroes.
Iron Man, Doctor Strange, and half a thousand Spider-Mans.
This universe didn't have things like superheroes, not for real. All of that was Hollywood magic for the silver screen; the colorful fevered dream of a comic book artists.
He spent four hours trudging through the crowds, shouldering past drunkards and women dressed in far too little to be classified as clothing...
He finally spotted a Deadpool. The costume was very accurate, right down to the texture of the suit and how many pouches were on his belt.
But he was wrong. It was just some... Guy. Dressed in a "screen-accurate" cosplay.
But it was around the fifth hour (and twelve, terrified innocent Deadpool cosplayers later) that he got so frustrated he actually decided to take a break.
"Puta madre it's like Mardis Gras..." He hissed out, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He'd long abandoned wearing his mask, wanting complete unobstructed range of his sense of smell and hearing. Neither of which have been particularly helpful with the smell of vomit, liquor, perfume and sweets littering the air.
"Wow! Buddy, you look like you need a good time!" A man dressed in some macabre clown suit said to him. When Miguel fixed his crimson eyes on him the man seemed to deflate, the gulp in his throat audible as his posture shrunk and he struggled to keep his voice collected at the imposing sight of the larger man.
He pointed at the door to a bar that seemed full to bursting, crowds chattering, and a group of obnoxious women clucking like drunken hens as they left, shouting rather inappropriate things at Miguel as they walked by.
Miguel sighed and decided to just say fuck it, one drink or so. Deadpool probably already hopped to another dimension already and this could be a pointless waste of time.
The patrons parted around him like the sea for Moses, too intimidated by the man who towered over them to stay in his way as he made it over to the bar.
The seat to the barstool creaked under his weight as he sat down, burying his face in his hand
This is the last time he'd ever chase down a Deadpool. Next time, he would pass it off to Ben or hell, even Hobie...
"Wow! Miguel, huh?" A bubbly voice giggled out.
His head shot up as she mentioned his name, and hi blinked at her.
Uncharacteristically, he felt his mouth go dry at her costume.
The black dress was cut down to the top of her underbust corset, revealing delicious amounts of her marshmallowy soft-looking cleavage. Honestly, if the woman sneezed, she'd probably spill right out of it...
Her hair was... Off. A kind of black beehive atop her head, sharp makeup accentuating her cheekbones and eyes. Bright, crimson lips smiled at him, dimples in her cheeks.
She wasn't rail thin like the other women who had come onto him all night, her body was soft, and squeezable; warm and looking as though he would get decent handfuls of her sweet soft rolls in his hands--
"Wow! You even look like him, too!" You giggle.
His mouth opened and he blinked.
"Ah... El... Elvira. Right?" He tried. He remembered Peter showing him that movie one of the times he'd visited him and MJ's place.
"Ah! Ding ding, my dear!" You grin, tapping your nose. "Some people keep saying I'm Morticia Addams."
"Ah..." He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter.
Even in your heels, you had a feeling that if this man was standing on his own two feet he'd tower over you.
"Wow! You really do look like Miguel!" You gasped, your ruby red lips parted in a sweet "O".
They looked so soft, just like the rest of you--
"Well! What's your name, big guy?" You ask, your long, wispy (maybe fake?) eyelashes batted at him.
"Uh... Miguel." He said stiffly.
You giggle again, a sound he was quickly focusing on, a sound he found he liked amongst the hustle of the other patrons in the bar.
"Pff, no, silly. Your name."
"...Miguel."
Your smile falters a bit as you blink up at him.
"Oh. Oh! Oh gosh, that's your actual name? I'm sorry!" You laugh awkwardly.
He decided that maybe, just maybe... His night wouldn't be spoiled after all.
"Well, I don't think it's bad enough to apologize for..." He said, flashing a smile, his fangs poking out just past his lips.
You giggle a bit girlishly. "Oh! Oh, that's not what I meant... But I mean! At least you're... Well, uh. In character! You got the looks, the height, the name!"
Miguel shakes his head with a deep chuckle.
"I suppose I do." He fixed you with a soft gaze as his fingers tapped the bar top. "What's your name?"
You grinned at him and tapped the name plate on your breast, drawing his gaze downward to your cleavage.
He felt his face heat up a bit as his eyes lingered on the soft swells, until his brain finally processed the name written.
He repeated it back to you, his voice just barely shaky.
"Yep! Don't wear it out!" You wink, leaning on the bar.
Once again, your cleavage on full display, just begging for him to--
"So, no offense but you look absolutely miffed 'bout something." You chuckle.
"You... Could say that." He struggled, clearing his throat. "I was... Supposed to meet somebody but they... Bailed."
"Oh, god, I haaaaaate that for you, bud." You say, leaning back with a click of your tongue. Your long acrylic nails tap on the laminated bar.
"So! What'll it be?"
"Uh... I don't have any money on me. Sorry."
"Hah!" You point up at the whiteboard sign above the tap.
'Those in costume -- First two drinks are free!'
He blinked up at the sign. "That's... Generous."
"Yeah, my boss is big on community. And I'm the one who told him that promising two free drinks instead of one will draw our competitor's clientele away." You wink.
"That's awfully... poachy of you." Miguel smirked.
You shrugged. "What can I say? Capitalism is capitalism and you gotta make a buck somehow. And besides! Halloween and other holidays are the best nights for tips!"
You looked back at him with a twinkle in your eye.
"So! What'll it be mister Spider-Man?"
"...Hell. The strongest drink you have."
"Ooooh! Risk taker! I like it." You laugh in a sing-song as you turn to start gathering what you needed to mix his cocktail.
The gaze of all the male patrons were drawn to you when you started shaking, humming to yourself as you did, looking at the list of things for the drink you were making, not paying mind to the prying eyes ogling your breasts. Miguel was, abashedly one of them. But he stopped himself once he realized what he was doing, the others?
He wanted to strangle all of them. Especially the three men next to him who were making bets on who would convince you to go to their car with them.
They clammed up when Miguel leaned in when you turned away.
"Keep staring at her like that, and I will gouge out your eyes, pendejos." He growled, flexing his talons in the face of one of the men for emphasis.
They all freaked out and ran, not wanting to piss off some 6 plus foot whatever guy with what looked like retractable blades on his fingers, and glowing red eyes.
When you turned back around, the cherry red drink topped with strawberries and a black cherry in hand, you grinned at him, and saw the money on the counter.
"Oh!" You hum, handing Miguel his drink and placing the money in their proper places.
"So... What's in this?" Miguel asked, sniffing the drink lightly.
You smile again at him, a cheeky glimmer in your eyes. "That would be telling, sweetheart. But I will say I put some sour grenadine in it."
"Hah. Fair enough." Miguel said, taking a sip of his drink.
The burning in his throat caught him off-guard. As did the heavy taste of the alcohol, that was quickly snuffed by the fruity flavor as he swallowed it down.
"It's... Good."
"Your cringe says you weren't expecting the punch." You smirk, crossing your arms and pushing up your soft breasts.
"It's... Surprising." He conceded, plucking the black cherry up out of the top of the glass.
He decided to make a bit of a show as he curled his tongue around the cherry, bringing it into his mouth and snapping off the stem, chewing lightly.
Miguel couldn't help but notice the way your cheeks flush a little bit and you busy yourself with wiping down glasses.
Maybe tonight wasn't such a bust, after all.
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