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#fuck this is worse than I imagined good god
poppy-metal · 11 hours
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back on my dilf-next-door!art donaldson-
i just know this man is borderline obsessed with you but it makes him feel like a dirty old man to think it so he keeps it to himself (by that i mean his beats off by the window that lets him see into your house)
and when you finally let him hit he nearly blacks out and he cries a little bit because it’s better than he imagined (every night)
the fact that art is as hot as he has the body that he has looks like that is a good person and a good father and kind and just all his tens and yet. he's the one thankful to you - he's held himself off for so long, i think. he's a lover at his core, a divore would shatter his heart - he'd not be ready to move on for some time and he'd devote all of his time to lily. the possibility of a relationship isn't even a thought in his mind - doesn't even grace the stratosphere of his world. he gives himself so fully to others its hard to have anything left over for himself. he spends years in a monotonous rhythm of spending time with lily, building a life for her thats full, building a home she'll be happy to come to when its his turn to have her - even when hes on his own, hes always working - building something - a new bookshelf for the comics lily is into - gardening - the flowers make him feel at ease and lily likes them - a pool - lily likes to swim. he still treats his body like a machine, up every morning, jogging until his lungs are screaming so loud and his heart is beating so hard he can't think of anything else, cant feel the void in his life. cant let himself feel discontent.
he hardly notices hes built a space to share with someone else until you're there - filling it. he realizes he built a home bigger than himself and lily and he doesn't realize how fucking lonely he was until you've been over at his house and you leave and it just feels wrong to sit in the stillness like that. he finds himself having fantasies when he's in the shower and his hand skims down his stomach, cups his dick - usually its a quick almost clinical affair, a bodily function he needs to release - letting his head thump forward to meet the steamed glass in pleasure. his breath fogging - he lets himself think of you, of your body, your skin and your smile and the way you dress everything everything everything - hes moaning his hand gliding up and down up and down. and he imagines your face nuzzling him, how sweet you'd be - on your knees - he thinks you'd suck and lick around his tip - dip your tongue into his slit. he pulls back his foreskin to release the pink head, rubs his thumb over the rubbery skin as he imagines it - imagines the warmth , imagines sinking into it. when he cums his knees quake. he smiles, breathless and like hes a teenager again, because that was the best fucking orgasm of his life.
so yes hes thankful - so fucking thankful when he gets you to stay the night, when he doesn't have to be alone in an empty fucking house and even worse, go to bed by himself. hes damn near whimpering with relief when he presses you back into his sheets and slots between your thighs and the sigh that rattles from him when his body settles over yours comes deep from his very bones. you touch everywhere and its so fucking good. hes hot and hard and slick, sliding against the crease of your thigh - and you gasp, "art. please - "
and he kisses you quiet - stilling himself as he lifts his hips, nudges his cock against the wet slit of your sex and presses - presses in and in and in and he's the one gasping this time, open and wet against your mouth, not even kissing just panting against your lips.
his head drops to your shoulder, his hips rock, and the moan he lets out sounds wet and soft - like he could cry, like hes on the cusp of it. "its so good." he breathes, mouths at your skin, sucking wetly on it, pulling it into his mouth. his teeth graze and its a pain you like. "you're so tight - oh my god."
you legs rise - the insistent nudge back and forth of his hips against yours spreading you, making you want to let him in even more even though hes so. hes so "oh art, you're so deep." hands gliding up the flexing muscles of his back, locking your ankles above his ass, urging him on. in and in and in in in in in. "it feels g - ood. keep - keep going - keep - oh -"
his moan rumbles from his chest, hes pressed so tight against you hes barely pulling out - your pussy squeezing him, sucking on his cock - you dont want him to leave but - you want it faster - you want it. his lips skim the shell of your ear and you gasp when he wraps a hand under your back, lifting you a little, pressing you impossibly closer, his other hand fits down as well, until both his big palms are under you, cupping your ass, molding you to his dick, rocking you against him back and forth up and down again and again and again. "you dont know," he pants, his voice hard and low like gravel, "how long I've needed this."
needed not wanted.
"have it-" you babble, nearly bouncing against him now. letting him maneuver you how he wants up and down on his cock. "its yours, baby, take it - take it-"
the slap of your bodies starts to echo throughout the room - his fucking becoming needier and and needier - his hands on your ass digging in now, gripping and not cupping, dragging not guiding guiding you against him. punching in and out of your cunt helplessly.
"thank you - thank you, thank you fuck - fuck honey. oh fuck -" he sounds tortured and you slide a hand through his damp blonde curls in comfort. can tell by the way he sounds and the way hes fucking you that hes breaking apart, how much he needed this on a fundamental, animal level. it goes beyond just being horny - he's denied himself this for so long - you're letting the band he's let get stretched thinner and thinner, finally snap. snap with the pound of hips crushing yours into the bed in pounding thrusts of his cock inside you. "I'm gonna cum - tell me - tell me to cum inside you. tell me you want my fucking cum filling your pussy."
"i want it, i want it, i want it."
god, you'd make him a dad again. you tell him so, "get me pregnant. I'll make you a daddy again, art, please - just fill me up -"
"FUCK!" the shout comes deep from his gut. ripped from his lungs and then he's at you like an animal, pummeling his hips and the bed is rocking, rocking so hard you know there will be dent in the wall but you dont care you cant stop moaning his name and begging for his cum and holding him to you like you could meld your limbs together.
so glad that you moved next door.
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people unfollowing you are weak, i'm staying bc it's fascinating to see a gimmick blog have an identity crisis.
Ty
- CC (<- should I even keep signing off posts with this character idfk bro)
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mariemariemaria · 5 months
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Does anybody else feel like mental health awareness has done very little to help them in material reality
#i was gonna say done nothing to help but that seemed too harsh#like there definitely is more knowledge about it now. maybe more people feel comfortable speaking about it which is good#but personally i don't feel that. like idk. workplaces will post about mental health awareness and then do nothing to help employees#the same w universities. my uni cut back the already meager mental health support#and then the government is doing absolutely fuck all as well#like idk im just back in a place i thought id gotten out of long ago and i still don't feel comfortable talking about it with people#maybe that's a me problem or maybe it's cultural or something idk. but in the 10 years ive been depressed (🫠) i don't think it's gotten a#whole lot better. teenagers are still dealing with the same shit i did and they're still not being taken seriously#women's mental health is not even spoken about.....anxiety depression sh eds etc are still ignored or seen as hysterical behaviour in women#or just normal esp with disordered eating. society hasn't changed people still want women to be stick thin and weak#like i know 10 years is a short time and there has been massive improvements in mh awareness if we look back over the past 50+ years#but idk i just think that it hasn't gotten better for a lot of people#i think specifically of belfast and like god. the amount of trauma there is the amount of homelessness the amount of substance abuse#drug abuse in particular that has gotten visibly worse over the past decade or so*#and i connect the dots n see the 2008 recession + a tory gov defunding the nhs + dehumanisation of homeless people & addicts + the troubles#+ ptsd + generational trauma + a negative peace + classism + paramilitary drug dealers + parties linked to those paramilitaries#and its like hmmmm i think we live in a society. and a mental health approach based on individual actions like journaling and meditation#isn't the way to go. or at least is not the be all and end all which is what a lot of mental health awareness raising seems to promote#*visibly worse on the streets. it was always a problem ofc but even a decade ago my parents never imagined it would be as bad as it is now#and it's become so normalised. i do think there's less individualism here than there seems to be elsewhere which can be good and can be bad#but i think we are becoming more and more individualistic. slowly. there's still a sense of community here but i do think it's changing#and callousness towards homeless people is one of the most obvious examples of this.#love when i put a wee asterisk in the tags of a post. like i have A Lot To Say lol
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handsomegentlebutch · 2 months
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My 3 little cousins were baptized today. "Triggered" is kind of a strong word but being in a catholic church again... I'm a little fragile rn ngl.
#butch speaks#it was hard not to shake as i held J over the basin to have the water poured on his head#when he was cleansed of sin. as if a little kid could ever knowly or intentionally offend a so-called loving god#the words came naturally to me#but they meant nothing#i remember when they used to mean something. when i begged gods forgiveness for my sin (being a lesbian) and tried to pray the gay away#i remember how much i wanted to die bc i could never truly embrace the sacred#i STILL deal with the complex of catholic guilt. its a very real thing. its hard to shake#i cant help but wonder if the catholicism ingrained in my brain is why i have a hard time with casual dating n sex#fun fact: there was a point when i was a teen that i got REALLY catholic#i prayed everyday. i talked to my patrin saint (st agnes) every day. i wantsd to become a nun#the thought of marrying a man mad me more sad than feeling like an alien did. so id marry the church as a nun.#not the way to hide being a dyke when ur fam is catholic btw LMAO#the first priest i knew was father joe. i loved that guy. he was so kind. friendly. briming with love.#he was one of my biggest references for what a good person was like#he talked about gods love a lot. how its for everyone. no one is exluded. ever.#he used to look right at me when he said stuff like that. a few other kids too. all of whom grew up to be queer#then father joe passed away. our church merged with another church. father jeff was the priest there.#he was kind but not as kind. he talked about hell and sin more. he looked at the same kids father joe did.#but the kindness in his eyes wasnt there.#that wasnt for us.#my family wasnt even THAT catholic#i went to church every sunday i did vacation bible school and catechism classes and youth group#i was an altar servant and in the choir#i even used to speak/understand a little latin#imagine how much worse id have been if my mom could have afforded catholic school lmao#grateful to have grown up poor in that regard#hm. actually... reading my own tags. mayne we were pretty catholic actually.#fucking hell.#i need to have lesbian sex in a church before god and everyone. mayeb that would fix me.
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they just didn't have to write him as "a great philanthropist"; "a generous benefactor of the empire bay planetarium"; "frequent officer of the empire bay press guild"; "a frequent target of political slander and false arrest because of generosity towards the press"
and at the same time write him as the first of the others to organize drug trafficking; a man who tried to kill all his competitors; "a shady bastard, even for guys in this business"; "ruthless modernizer"; a man who secretly views his close friend as a liability; "the man who killed his own boss" to take his place
"few will moan moretti's passing" from the lost heaven's newspapers and there's nothing like that in the cut-out news reports about carlo's death
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#like do you remember . “Micky the Crab” who was falcone's soldier and whom falcone eventually left to clean the fucking toilets#when the guy lost almost all his fingers#and ofc i don't think this whole charade with charity and the press is sincere (can sense 100% money laundering w charity here) but#i think he still felt some appreciation for empire bay bc this city accepted & raised him instead of sicily#i believe that there were also good intentions with the planetarium and maybe other things#maybe not everything was just a money laundering#“your teeth are a gift from god u can sink them into anyone's flesh and call it an act of giving” this is what i mean#that fact that his fucking (ugly but still) MANSION is in a poor residential area it just feels like a slap#violently shaking carlo by his shoulders WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!! (gets shot right after)#the fact that he had a reputation as a shady guy among the mafia and a reputation as a philanthropist in society . carlo. why r u like this#this man is a fucking contradiction in some absolutely fucked up gross way and it's killing me. wouldn't want him any other way tho#m2#like can you imagine. if he actually felt warm towards empire bay. can you imagine if he was actually interested in making this place bette#but still organized the drug trade(which is objectively even worse than a racket)#love mixed with selfishness and violence and greed and and in the end it's creation mixed with destruction#sorry i can't get my thoughts into sentences that make sense all this week#but this contrast is killing me and i think about it a lot and i just wanted to put it together in a compilation
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ridgewriter · 10 months
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I have one thing to say in response to the last 15 minutes of Good Omens season 2:
What.
In the ever loving FUCK.
DID I DO TO DESERVE THAT?!
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this-doesnt-endd · 6 months
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I still find it kinda wild that after 1 psych eval they immediently put me on antipsychotics
#i mean it was in the right direction but not the right answer#we good now tho we on the two in one epilepsy mood stabalizers ayye#i will say tho i got put on keppra for my seizures and i cant imagine being on that long term#if i stayed on it any longer than i did i prolly woulda been in the er simply cause i couldnt eat and was near passing out at every moment#but if i didnt have that i woulda been in jail#i was so fucking mad and angry all the time i thankfully was able to keep it in but oh my god#never in my life had i wanted to throw chairs at people SO bad#my mom would ask if i had found a pair of socks and it took all that was in me to not scream and throw my socks across the room#and then i got so so sad oh my god#cause i ended up taking two tweeks off work to get off it and get on a new one and i went up to see my dad#so i was on the train sobbbing my eyes out for no reason#or like a day or two after i got there we drove up into maryland to go to costco it was prolly hour 30 hour 45#and my dad turned to look at me and my brain decided he did it wrong#i sobbed the entire way home and we had to stop at harbor freight and i cried even more#and he felt so bad and was like we can get dinner u want pizza we'll get pizza if u want and we almost couldnt find the dominos#and it almost made me worse i cried for like a solid 2 hrs and half of it was cause i was so upset abd angry that i was crying#when i didnt want to which made me cry more#god keppra is fucking evil#if it helps you of course ya got the good part but damn id never felt like that on any other med
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the-faultofdaedalus · 2 years
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@tin-can-iron-man​ has reminded me of my zeke-stane-in-mcu-brainrot and so once again i am just
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adamparrishdyke · 2 years
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if i was ryan ross brendon urie would be in the ground right now
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opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years
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...
#prospective phd advisor: if u wanna go to Antarctica we can def arrange that#me: um fuck yea i wanna go to Antarctica.#it wouldnt be to mcmerdo dry valley like i always imagined but um yes pls#assuming he gets the funding for a student and assuming i decide to go there#hes the oldest guy ive talked to and he was a little rambly and scatterbrain but he reminded me of my undergrad advisor#and i feel like he liked my passion and im prob s good fit for what he wants to do. so idk another good option#and it would be kinda great bc it wouldnt b that far from where my parents live but it would b in another country#i could hang for a while in the forrests of canada 🇨🇦#ugh so many options. our call was unceremoniously cut short tho by a bad zoom connector#but it was on my last questions so it could have been way worse#sigh... i started the day sobbing into my scrambled eggs bc i was getting bombarded by texts abt leaving for sampling later today#and now i feel a little better. just gotta stay normal until Monday#hhhh at least thats all the interviews done. unless i decide to follow up on one last email exchange#i should do that. he does engineering cyanobacteria stuff but god im already seriously looking at 5 other ppl. do i really wanna chase#down another person. ugh idk ill feel so bad if i make all my referees send stuff to 5 different institutions let along 6#blah im so exhausted#and what better way to deal with that exhaustion than spending a whole weekend sampling all day with zero rest fml#it better not rain. i dont wanna go back again.#oh god if i could just lay face down on the floor for a lil while. that would heal me#unrelated
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broadswipeslideshow · 2 years
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damn .
#wow. it's been bad. like really bad?#ive had my shitty moments but i think the past week takes a place in the top 5#idk what the fuck has been wrong with me but oh my god i am horrible. a complete mess. i cannot even function right now#the amount of times i've dissociated the past couple of days is ??? crazy. never had that happen except 4 when i went through severe trauma#just.... i can't focus. my sight gets all fuzzy and i don't have the mental capacity to return to my body#i am just numb and lifeless and my entire being is dead weight. it's too much effort to move so i just stare into a blurry atmosphere#most of the time. wishing i was dead tbh.#every single day i think 'i'm gonna kill muself.' i say it to myself constantly#like a source of comfort or some fucked up shit#i swear to god i have missing time from the past week. like what was i doing all day? where did i go?#it kind of scares me and the fact that i think i'm hallucinating doesn't make it any better#i keep hearing voices that aren't there and i saw a cockroach in my bathroom.... but it wasn't one#it was just me imagining it plus it was way too fast to be one#but i literally gasped and flinched back and watched it go behind my toilet. yet it wasn't there#what the fuck is happening to me?#i should be happy. i got accepted into college. and yet i'm not. i'm worse than ever before#my dad doesn't even support me on this. i don't have anyone to talk to. and i just really want to fucking die#and idk. i always think to myself how much i hate myself but i never really took it that seriously#but then the other day i realized how much i truly believe and KNOW i am a bad person. i am not good.#like wow i guess i really do hate myself#starting to suspect i have bpd :/ never really thought abt it before#but from what i keep reading and seeing most of my symptoms match up perfectly#favorite person / self harm / mood swings / utter lack of care for myself / anger and resentment toward others all the time#so much shit idk. my therapist says i self harm but i really have no idea if what i do is considered self harm#i mean. i guess it has left scars. but i don't think i do it out of hatred for myself? but maybe i do#considering i've come to the conclusion that i fucking despise every aspect of myself#i don't think it's normal to put yourself in someone else's shoes and think 'why would they ever want to be friends with me?'#there's too many other things to say but. i'm stupid and ugly and i want to die and fuck my life lmao. i hate it here for real.
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gloomwitchwrites · 7 days
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You get drunk and don't remember giving them a hickey. So you get mad at them.
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Oh, anon! I love love love this prompt. Even though the prompt itself is fairly straightforward, there is some wiggle room about how this could play out. I stuck to the prompt but did my best to keep them on the shorter side.
Some of these get spicy but don't fall into graphic detail.
Task Force 141 x Female Reader
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, arguing, sexual tension, kissing, alcohol
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
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John Price
“These reports are shit, Price. What am I supposed to do with them?”
You’re trying your best not to sound irritated, but your head is pounding. You agreed to go out for drinks but told yourself you wouldn’t have more than one or two. That went completely out the door when multiple people began paying for rounds. After the fourth, the night started to come blurry. Not all the pieces are there.
Of what you can recall from last night, you remember that you sat in a man’s lap. Well—sat isn’t the correct word. More like straddled. You remember strong arms, an accent, and an excitement in what you were doing. But the face is still foggy.
“What you always do,” replies Price. There’s a tease in his tone you don’t particularly like. It’s too friendly, and it stirs something fierce inside your belly.
Price shifts in his chair behind his desk, the collar of his jacket flops open slightly. You catch a hint of something dark on the side of Price’s neck. You frown, your rebuttal gone.
“What is that?” You nod toward his throat.
Price leans back. “What?” he asks. “This?” He reaches up, pulling back on the collar.
It’s a…oh fuck.
“You were happy to give it to me.” Price shrugs.
Fuck.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, tossing the manila file folder on Price’s desk.
The man you straddled last night was Price? The man who is always fucking up reports and ignoring all your suggestions for corrections? That one?
“You looked good doing it, too,” he continues, that teasing smile falling into a comfortability of a lover.
No. No no no.
You place your hands on your hips. “And you let me do that?”
Price shrugs. “We’re consenting adults.”
“I was drunk.”
Price crosses his arms over his chest. “We were both drunk. And you’re the one who pounced on me.”
Embarrassment rises hot and wild in your cheeks. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“You did,” he confirms, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he smirks. “Ambushed me actually.”
“Then why didn’t you stop me?” Your voice cracks, going a bit high.
“I tried.”
That’s almost worse. You jumped him and then sucked on his neck until it left a mark. What an absolute fucking mess.
You roll your eyes. “You tried? A big strong man like you couldn’t stop me?”
This time Price is the one rolling his eyes. He makes an irritated groan. Price pushes up from his chair, one hand waving out in front of him as he speaks. “You said you’d been thinking about me.”
It’s not entirely untrue. While you attend the clerical side of things, you do make excuses to come see Price. He’s older. Handsome. Assertive. His reports aren’t always shit but it’s the only reason you have to bother him.
“I didn’t mean it,” you reply but even you don’t believe it.
Price comes around the desk and steps into your space. “Really?”
You square your shoulders, staring into Price’s face. “Really.”
He shakes his head, clearly not believing you at all. “As I recall, you were in my lap. Practically begging.”
“And you allowed that? In front of everyone?” Even Price couldn’t be that careless.
This time, Price smiles like he knows something you don’t. “You don’t remember.”
“What?” you ask, flustered.
Price starts laughing, but it’s not mocking, more like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“John,” you snap.
Price sinks down into his chair, legs spread wide. “I think I liked it better when you said my name while seated in my lap.”
Your fingers dig into the top of Price’s desk. Pieces begin to return. Fragments of you squirming in his lap. Lips pressed against his.
“How did you say it?” he ponders, almost aloud rather than to you. Then, he smiles, not even answering his own question.
Price rests his palm on his thigh and your gaze drops to its subtle movement before returning to his face.
“Think I’d like a matching one,” he says. He runs his hand down his thigh and then back up. “Or I could give you one just like it.”
“John,” you murmur, not knowing what it is you want to say.
“Doesn’t have to be on your neck,” and his voice is nearly a growl. Price lightly squeezes his thigh and you know exactly where he’s referring to. “Be easier if you sit on the desk.”
You snatch up the folder on Price’s desk, clutching it like a shield against your chest. Price doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t appear fazed at all. Stomping over you shove it against his chest, intending to walk right out the door.
But Price is quick.
With one hand he’s clutching the file and with the other he grabs your wrist before you manage to move away.
“Remove your hand,” you say but there is no venom in it.
Price’s gaze lingers on your lips before shifting up to meet your eyes. “Come back when you know what you want.”
Price releases you, and you nearly stumble forward into his lap. Catching yourself on the edge of his desk, you spin on your heel, exiting Price’s office as the final fragments of memory fall into place.
You don’t want to admit it.
Not out loud. Not yet.
But you will be back.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
It’s unbelievable. Unfathomable.
You’re not angry with Kyle. You’re upset with yourself. You’re upset that you were so careless about how many drinks you had, and how you couldn’t control yourself in the moment. Kyle is not a liar, and he doesn’t take advantage, so whatever you did, is on you.
“I’m sorry,” you say, swallowing down some of the rising irritation. “It’s my fault.”
Kyle shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. “Not like I pushed you away.”
“That doesn’t matter,” you insist, flinging your arms out in exasperation, nearly knocking over bottles of cleaner.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, catching one of them before it hits the floor.
This little storage room isn’t big enough for this. You need space. You need to run far away from here and pretend like last night didn’t happen. Not that you can remember all of it. You don’t recall giving Kyle that mark on his neck.
“It does matter. We both had too much but I still had more of my head than you did.” Kyle places the bottle of cleaner back on the shelf. “I should’ve done better.”
“We’re coworkers, Kyle. And I had no right. We aren’t together.”
Kyle smirks and you want to smack it right off his face. “We could be,” he murmurs, taking a step forward.
“Absolutely not,” you retort but you don’t retreat.
Kyle’s smirk faulters a bit but he doesn’t shrink away. If anything, he looks more determined, like the rejection is a farce.
“You remember anything you said to me last night?”
You lick your lips and cross your arms defensively over your chest. “Even if I did, does it change anything?”
Kyle sighs and runs his hand over the top of his head. “It does for me.”
Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you consider your options. Kyle is a sweet man, at least to you. Everyone always comments on it to you when he isn’t around, and you’ve always dismissed their observations.
Maybe he does care, and you doing this tipped him over the edge into a place neither of you might be able to come back from.
“I need some fucking air,” you mutter, wanting to escape this situation, even for a bit.
Kyle shoves forward, blocking the door. Your lips move, forming the shapes of words, but Kyle shakes his head, all seriousness.
“We need to talk about this.”
“We don’t need to talk about anything,” you snap.
Kyle’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline and his head tips slightly to the side, revealing more of the mark. “Everyone knows what happened.”
���What?” you breathe.
“We weren’t alone when you straddled me.” You’re too stunned to speak. All the words you want to say are gone. Lost to the void that is your mind.
Kyle sighs and leans against the door. “Soap got a great view.”
“Stop talking. Just—stop.” Your throw up your hands and Kyle does as you ask. “You are going to move out of my way. I am going to leave. And we won’t talk about this again.”
Kyle only stares, the silence stretching.
When you think he won’t give in, Kyle shifts to his left, leaving the door completely clear. Without taking a second to reconsider, you push open the the door, nearly running over Soap in the process.
He stumbles backward, cheeks bright red. Ghost is next to him, arms crossed, staring at the wall like he isn’t there at all.
Soap’s brief fluster turns into a wide, knowing grin. “Gaz give you a matching one?” he teases.
Ghost makes a noise that sounds like a snort.
“Both of you can fuck off.”
Simon "Ghost" Riley
“Ghost.”
“What?” he grunts, side-eyeing you before returning his attention back to the tablet in his hand. He absently rubs at his neck for the third time in the last few minutes.
You frown. “Are you injured?”
“Why would you think that?” he asks, tapping at something on the screen.
“You keep rubbing your neck.”
Ghost pauses, his finger hovering just above the screen as he turns slightly in your direction.
You’re not trying to be pushy or nosy. Ghosts hates that. But there’s something wrong, and you care enough to ask him about it.
“You know what’s on my neck,” he replies cooly.
“No. I don’t.” A swirling fracture of unease blooms in your belly. It curls outward to claw up your throat. “What are you talking about?”
Ghost’s hand holding the tablet drops to his side. With one gloved hand, he reaches up, tugging the neckline of his jacket down enough to reveal a portion of his throat. The mask he always wears is in the way, but you reach out with a tentative hand, brushing the fabric upward to reveal a mouth-shaped bruise.
You drop your hand and take a step back. “Why would I know anything about that?”
“You gave it to me,” he says, matter of fact.
Sure, you had a few drinks last night, but did you really have that many? Enough that you can’t recall giving Ghost a goddamn hickey.
“You’re mistaken.”
“Never wrong, love.” Ghost locks the tablet and places it on the table next to him. “Especially about a woman sitting in my lap.”
“Don’t,” you say sharply. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s not.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, hips adjusting slightly as he pivots to glare down at you. “Try again.”
A deep rush of embarrassment floods your system, curling up your neck to heat your cheeks. “I wouldn’t.”
“You did,” insists Ghost. You glance down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. Perhaps you had one too many. Sometimes you can hold your alcohol but clearly not. At least not last night.
You clear your throat. “I’m sorry.” An apology is best. You have no idea how Ghost feels about you, but you are irritated that he didn’t try to stop the whole thing in the first place.
Ghost is silent a long moment. “I’m not.” Your head snaps up, but Ghost isn’t done. “I liked it. And you enjoyed giving it to me.”
You need the pieces to fall back into place. You need to remember. Because right now, you’re just confused, and Ghost’s behavior is entirely different from his usual demeanor.
“You don’t know that.”
Ghost shrugs. “I do.”
His certainty is confusing. Ghost is not a liar. He is always truthful, always to the point, even if his bluntness comes across as rude. And that’s what so frustrating about it all because you know that Ghost is right. You probably did like it, probably begged and writhed in his lap. Ghost wouldn’t lie about something like that, but he would tease you. Might even hold it over your head.
“This conversation is over.” You step around him to grab the tablet, but Ghost is quick like a viper, his large hand encasing your wrist.
“Do you remember?”
No. I don’t.
“It doesn’t matter.” You try to tug your wrist out of his grasp, but Ghost holds firm.
“When you’re ready. Find me.” He leans forward, masked face nearly touching the side of your cheek. “We’ll recreate it.”
Then his hand is gone, and Ghost is pulling away, presenting the tablet to you like he didn’t say anything at all.
John "Soap" MacTavish
“What the fuck is that?”
Soap’s brilliant smile turns in your direction. He sits on the seat of a bench press, elbows resting on knees, sweat dripping from his brow. Soap is shirtless and a white towel is draped over the back of his neck.
Reaching up with the edge of the towel, Soap wipes away some of the sweat on his face. “What are you on about?” He adjusts his stance, his large palm pressing into his knee as he leans on an elbow.
The small gym isn’t crowded but there are people here. Some of them turn and glance in your direction but otherwise keep to their business. Ghost and Gaz are over by the boxing ring observing a few new recruits who slug it out for bragging rights.
Is Soap so aloof? Does he not see the massive mark on the side of his neck? And who gave it to him? A group of you went out for drinks but you don’t recall who might have given it to him or when.
You step closer, lowering your voice. “Your neck, Johnny.”
That gorgeous smile of his widens and he chuckles. “Did you forget?”
Did you forget? Forget what? Are you part of this?
You swallow, the salvia nearly sticking in your throat as you try to calm your thudding heart. “What do you mean?”
Soap leans back a bit, observing you. “You gave this to me.” His voice is too loud, and you glance over your shoulder to make sure no one’s heard. Everyone appears to be preoccupied with the recruits in the ring.
“I didn’t,” you insist, turning back to him. “I’d remember.”
Soap guffaws and removes the towel from around his neck. “Took a seat right here.” He indicates the spot by tapping his left thigh.
“Did we…” you begin, and then trail off.
“Did we what?” he prompts, clearly enjoying this.
You bend forward, lowering your voice until it’s a hiss. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Soap smirks, and then rises to his full height. “Promise I was a perfect gentleman.” He matches your movement, leaning in so that your faces are close. “But you? You were no lady.”
You inhale sharply, and Soap pushes right past you, heading for the showers.
taglist:
@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving
@childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666
@unhinged-reader-36 @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath
@enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu
@thewulf @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos
@enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project
@burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @contractedcriteria
@lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie
@tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior @dakotakazansky
@hantheconqueror
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dante-mightdie · 1 month
Note
Your au's for Ghost have me absolutely feral, specially now that I found the viking content. I'm a sucker for big cold man with a sweet angel for a wife 🥺
There's just so much angst potential, imagine the wife was this doe eyes lady that dreamt of love and read all the sweet fairy tales just to end up married to a brute that thing romance is dumb. Then she tries to make their relationship work in a more traditional sense but the attempts fail 🥺🥺🥺
It could be very angsty or a beauty and the beast type of situation where he tries his best for wifey.
beauty and the beast yes please and thank you or alternatively: lady and the tramp
c/w: fluff, mentions of smut, i’m bad at writing romance leave me alone i’m heartless
he’s always known you as his wife. from the second price dropped you in his lap like a stray kitten, mumbles of clan alliances and blah blah blah. you didn’t really have an opinion nor say about the whole situation. but you didn’t seem displeased with the arrangement your father made with price
it never really clicked in his brain that before you were his wife, you were once a little girl with a head full of dreams. hopes of growing up and finding a good man. one who will whisper sweet nothings in your ear at night, building a home and family with you, treat you like the darling thing that you are
and now here you are, the other half of this viscous soldier. a man who has never known a gentle touch in his life. his romantic experiences consist of going to the brothel and picking the first woman he sees to relieve the stress of battle. he never planned on taking a wife nor starting a family
you never complained. not once. even when he shut down your attempts at affection. you took it on the chin and moved on. perhaps you understood that you could definitely have it worse. simon is by no means a good man. but he certainly isn’t a cruel one either
he’s never laid a disrespectful hand on you. never allowed anyone to treat you as anything other than his wife. the same can’t be said for a lot of women put into these kinds of arrangements
he started to figure you out in bed one night. after being intimate together, he was sat up in bed, candlelight illuminating his sweaty chest as he pants to catch his breath. a flask of ale in his hand as he gulps it down
your form is splayed out in his lap, your legs tangled with those thick tree trunks he calls thighs. the covers are bunched up around you, barely concealing your naked bodies to anyone who might decide to intrude
it never makes him jump when he feels your nails dig into his back and claw down the muscle when he fucks you. or when your teeth bite down on his shoulder to cover your moans when he hikes up your skirt in the dark alley behind a tavern. but when your fingers gentle dance over the scars and tattoos littering his sweaty skin, he feels the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up
goosebumps prickle up and down his body when your lips graze over the large scar slashed across his burly chest, tongue flicking out ever so slightly to taste the sweat resting there,
"what're you doin'?" he grunts out, taking another sip of the ale. your eyes flick up to him, almost surprised that he's actually talking to you. you shrug your shoulders lightly, cheeks heating up slightly from his blunt acknowledgement of your affections
“appreciating what was gifted to me by the gods. your body is a blessing, husband…” you whisper so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. but he did
you considered him a gift. a blessing, even. from the gods themselves. simon almost wanted to laugh. another part wanted to tell you to stop, stop with these childish fantasies. but it soon made sense why you never gave up your attempts of coaxing approval from a man so afraid to love
somewhere, deep down inside of you. that little girl is pleading with you, begging you to make her dreams of finding true love come to life. telling you that you’re the only one who can do it. without you, she has no hope
perhaps it can’t hurt to indulge you. just this once.
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worldlxvlys · 3 months
Note
HII UHMM I KNOW I KNOW BUTT CAN YOU MAKE ANOTHER JEALOUS CHRIS ONEE.. LIKE I LOVE IT SM . AND I KNOW THE BF AND THE READER BROKE UP BUT PLEASEE.
texts w/ jealous! chris (p3)
chris sturniolo x reader
warnings: smutttt, masturbation, use of dildo, cursing, reader is in a toxic relationship, squirting
**could be cheating depending on how you view it. i’m not promoting cheating in the slightest, this is fiction. please do not cheat on anyone.
a/n: previous part
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CHRIS’S POV
i stared at the set of numbers in confusion.
why did she send me her birthday?
once i saw the text she sent after that, it clicked.
she gave me her my eyes only password.
my fingers moved quicker than my mind could process, as i logged into her snapchat account.
once i was granted access, i immediately swiped up, clicking on my eyes only.
i typed in the password, and the sight i was met with made my eyes widen.
i clicked on the first picture, eyes immediately being drawn to her body.
at first, the pictures weren’t too crazy, just her in slightly revealing clothes.
they still drove me insane, though. her face was turned into a slight smirk, as though she was taunting me.
her clothing hugged her curves perfectly, showing off a minimal amount of skin.
with the next swipe, my heart dropped at the sound of a moan.
“fuck” a sweet, low moan fell from her glossy lips.
the camera only showed her face, but the sounds of her fingers pushing in and out of her wet pussy could be heard.
the noise immediately went to my dick, making my already semi-hard on worse.
“oh shit” she bit her lip as her face scrunched up in pleasure.
i began to palm my dick as i listened to the moans that fell from her mouth, wishing it was my name that she was moaning instead.
“yeah? wish that pretty dick was inside of me, huh?”
“fuck, yes” i whispered in response, as though she could hear me.
my hips jerked up into my hand when my tip brushed against the fabric of my boxers.
“wish you were buried inside of my tight walls baby, i’d milk that cock for all it’s worth”
“oh my god” i moaned out.
seeing this side of her was shocking, and it made me want more.
“fuck, i’m so close!” she moaned out as the wet sounds increased in frequency.
her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her mouth hung open as she let out a pornographic moan.
just as the camera began to pan down, the video cut off, not allowing me to see anything further.
i swiped again, and this time, she held up a pink dildo.
my eyes widened and i immediately pulled down my pants and boxers, letting my dick slap my stomach.
she spit onto the toy, and took it into her mouth.
she pushed it in and out, moaning around it while staring at the camera.
she propped the camera up, allowing me to see her matching set.
it was a lacy, bright orange that made her skin glow.
she was sat at her desk chair, and quickly stuck the bottom of the dildo to her seat.
my hand wrapped around my dick, spreading the pre-cum around my tip.
i began to pump myself as she moved her panties to the side and sat on the dildo.
“holy fuck, holy fuck” i groaned out.
i watched her boobs bounce in her bra, as she leaned back against the chair and grabbed them.
“fuck, you feel so good buried inside of me like this”
she spoke to the camera as though i was in the room with her, fueling my imagination.
i barely allowed myself to blink, not wanting to miss a single one of her movements.
she let out several choked out moans as she stuck her hand in her panties, rubbing her clit.
“ughhh” i groaned out as thick ropes of cum flew up and onto my stomach.
suddenly, she lifted herself off of the dildo.
“want a better view?” she asked before she turned around, straddling the chair.
i kept my hands at my sides, gripping onto my chair in shock.
she moved her panties once again, before sinking onto the toy again.
she left me mesmerized, mouth hung open as i watched her ass move.
she lifted herself up and down, ass jiggling with every movement as her moans got louder.
“chris! chris! i’m gonna cum”
she moaned my name.
not her boyfriend’s, mine.
she continued to moan my name as she lifted herself up and squirted onto the chair.
squeals and screams rang out from my phone as she gripped onto the chair, while her body shook uncontrollably.
i quickly swiped out of my eyes only, going back to the camera.
i started the timer for the video and propped my phone up against my desk.
i started to stroke myself again, picturing her face as she finished.
the only thing that could be seen in the camera was my face and the movements of my arm, as my dick was hidden under the table.
i looked at the camera, beginning to speak, “you really think you can tease me like that and not receive any type of punishment?” i groaned out.
“such a fucking slut, screaming my name like that” i spoke as i sped up my movements.
“couldn’t even send it directly, had to make me find it ? if you want me, i wanna hear you beg for it ma”
i let out a long groan of her name as my cum shot out of me, coating my hand.
i brought my hand into view of the camera, showing off the sticky substance.
“look at what you do to me, baby. if you want me, all you have to do is ask. you know where to find me” i spoke before ending the video, and saving it to my eyes only.
when i finished cleaning up, i sent her a text.
check your my eyes only, baby.
make sure you’re alone ;)
——————-
hope u like <33
masterlist
tag list: @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnsdior @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn
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beforeimdeceased · 7 months
Note
hey bae! if you’re still taking requests could i please have something fluffy with mean! ellie and sensitive/soft! reader. it can be whatever u want, loving the pink theme btw 🎀⭐️!
CRYBABY! - (E.W)
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pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.
synopsis: you’ve had a seriously bad day, and now you’re stuck with the shittiest person you’ve ever met while you wait for your friends to get home.
a/n: thank u for acknowledging the theme! it took so long to put together 😭. also i really hope this fulfills your request. would you guys want a part 2 w/ smut this time?
“crybaby, crybaby. we need to cry. and if we do, i know that would be alright.” — edit
masterlist.
ellie fucking williams was an exceptional singer, guitarist, and had incredible stage presence. but more importantly: she was an asshole. a complete fucking dick, and not just the usual “too good for everyone” cocky. she was crude. she was vulgar and she knew exactly how to push people, you specifically. sometimes you thought that she walked around asking for a fight to prove herself to people. now, you think it’s so she can finally feel something. even if it’s a mind spinning jab at her face.
you did your best to stay away from her, despite you sharing friends; jesse and dina. you knew exactly how she was and you knew you couldn’t handle it. no matter how many times you tried to let her little remarks brush past you, you always found yourself wanting to go lower. and each time you were around her it got harder to bite your tongue.
today was a bad day. a shit day. one of your worst. you found fraudulent activity on your bank card, got hit with a frustratingly large and urgent bill, and your washing machine broke. all in the span of an hour. the customers at your job had been extra rude and to make matters worse, your manager yelled at you for a mistake you didn’t even make.
all you wanted to do was go over to dina & jesse’s and eat brownies while they treated you like the child they’d yet to have. dina rubbing your back and reassuring you that everything will be okay while jesse threatens to beat all your enemies bloody. you use the spare key you have to their apartment to messily trudge in, kicking your shoes off at the door and smiling as you open the fridge to find dina’s special 1,000 hour brownies.
“i keep telling her she should put weed in those.” echoes behind you, causing you to pause mid bite. there she is, leaning against the counter. eyes smudged with her signature stage eyeliner, sweat glistening on her skin, a tank top and her stage cargos sagging on her waist. gargling down a plastic water bottle that had definitely seen better days.
“where are dina and jesse?” you furrow your brows closing the fridge. you grab a napkin to place the brownie on, and move further back near the door away from her. just in case.
“they went to go grab some groceries, but they told me to stay here and wait for you.” she answers, finishing the bottle off.
fuck. how long were they going to be gone? you couldn’t imagine spending more than 2 minutes alone with this loose lipped devil. her eyes narrow as she looks you up and down before smiling. here she goes.
“bad day? cause it looks like it.”
“well it definitely isn’t going to get better with you around me.” you snap back.
“ouch. i’m hurt.” she laughs. deviously. a hand over her chest as she pushes off the counter to chuck the empty bottle into the trash can.
you move over to the living room, sitting yourself on the couch. maybe if you ignore her she’ll get bored and leave you alone? maybe she’ll get so bored she’ll actually leave. god, please get the fuck out of here.
she follows you though, sitting way too close for comfort and turning on the tv. you pull your phone out, immediately opening tumblr and mindlessly scrolling. hoping that dina and jesse will be home soon.
“d tells me you stopped showing up to gigs because of me. is that true?” she breaks the silence between you two. you shrug her off. “you’re not the easiest person to be around, williams.” you state.
“so what’s wrong with me? i’d love to hear it straight from the horses mouth.” she scoffs, scooting closer. when you attempt to ignore her she pulls your phone out of your hand. staring into your eyes with her very own. piercing through your soul for a response. “is it because i called you an idiot?”
“among other things, but it doesn’t surprise me that that’s all you remember.” you reach for your phone but she pulls it back. this causes you to pinch her, and she smacks your hand away still holding your phone back. “remind me then.”
you feel her taunting tone. her want— need to push at you. to push your buttons and boundaries until you break. it’s like a game to her, and you certainly weren’t in the mood for it today.
“can you give me my phone so i can find out when dina and jesse are coming home?” you sigh. her behavior reminded you of a customer you’d had earlier who’d treated you like garbage because you weren’t smiling. you felt tears welling up but pushed them down. you never cried in front of ellie. because of her, maybe, but never to her face. you’d never live it down.
“can you answer my question? so i can apologize or whatever. d is really on my ass about it.”
you scoff. “ofcourse you aren’t genuinely sorry. you probably don’t even remember all the fucked up shit you say and do to people. half of the time you ignore me and the other half you treat me like i’m a burden. do you remember when you guys had your first real show? i told the security i knew you and you pretended like i was a stranger.”
“jesse was sooo pissed you didn’t show up.” she laughs. “did he yell at you?”
“yeah. thought i was lying because you told him i was. called me a shit friend and a liar until i showed him proof. why am i the only one you treat like this?”
“you’re definitely not the—“ you reach for your phone again, but she’s quicker than you. pushing you away and laughing at your lockscreen, which was a picture you’d taken of yourself. one you felt incredibly confident in. all of that confidence was withering away slowly and you could guess it’d only been 10 minutes. “only one.”
“that’s so much worse. seriously, i don’t have time for this today. i’ll just go home.” you sniffle and fail to hide it. the tears were in the back of your throat and you felt like her personal rag doll all over again. what you’d finally gotten away from the last week was haunting you all over again. her taunting, her rudeness. she knew what she was doing and she didn’t even care.
“are you gonna cry? am i making you cry?”
you gulp, biting your lip to fight the shakiness in your voice. “just give it back.” is all you can muster up. her arm stretches up and as you reach for it she tucks it in her back pocket and sits on it.
you feel the tears begin to spill out of your eyes and you quickly turn around and lean into the couches arm. hands over your face as you pathetically attempt to calm yourself. you feel a hand on your shoulder and you push it away before realizing it’s ellie handing you back your phone.
it takes you a couple blinks, convinced the tears have obstructed your vision. the very same ellie who’d tripped you in front of a crowd of people last month, was being nice? her face has softened, genuine concern replacing the taunting gaze she previously had. she places a hand on your back and shushes you.
“i’m sorry. i’ve never made you cry before, i’m sorry.” she speaks softly. she almost seems…confused? is this what it takes to get her to realize that what she does actually fucking hurts you? for you to break down in front of her? for her to get a peek at the silent nights you’d spent sobbing over another one of her “jokes”? all this time?
you wipe your eyes and begin to laugh, which startles her and causes her to lean back. “you’re such an ass, ellie. god, you’re such a fucking dick.” you shake your head and breathe. she doesn’t respond, just stares at you with concern. brows furrowed as she concentrates on your body language. the way you’re leaning closer towards her.
“today was such a bad day.” you cry out in frustration, dipping your head into her lap. you just lay there, sobbing. she doesn’t move you, but instead rubs your back. shushing you. whispering that it’ll be okay, and you’d never admit it because it was coming from her, but you really needed it in that moment.
she pulled you in closer to her, turning you onto your side so she can rub her thumb across your cheek. wiping some of your tears away. you begin to cry even harder, but she doesn’t push you away. even when her pants are soaked and snotty. she lets you lay there, and cry into her.
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Text
imagine bucky being drunk
warning: kinda spicy at the end
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"He's doing it again."
Sam nudged you in the ribs, tearing your eyes away from Carol; who had been giving you the latest details on her life. The two of you frowned but then Carol smirked, nodding to your boyfriend across the small dive bar she had taken everyone to. Bucky was standing next to Steve and he was pretend punching him in the face. Steve was laughing whilst blocking his friend's air punches.
"I love drunk Barnes," Carol sighed contently and you agreed.
"He's so cute when he's drunk."
"Sure, real cute when the tab is over a grand because it takes a whole brewery to get him tipsy."
Ignoring Sam, you promised Carol you'd return to hear the rest of her story and she smirked, holding up her beer. "We have all night."
Stepping away from the table, you smiled at the bickering going on behind you as to who was going to pay for the tab. Leaving Wilson and Danvers to settle that argument, you walked over to the oldest men in the bar. Bucky's eyes moved to you and he grinned like a little puppy, pushing Steve aside to stumble over to you.
"God, you're so cute," he hollered, pretending to grab a piece of you to eat. He consumed air you and you laughed, grabbing his hand before he could take another bite.
Bucky quickly engulfed you into a hug, squeezing so tight you had to holler for him to release you. "I love a good strangling, but let's keep that for the bedroom, babe."
Steve groaned. "Come on, man."
You smirked, allowing Bucky to pull your back against his chest. He wrapped both arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulders. "Sounds like Stevie boy needs a little fun."
"That's what it sounds like," you echoed Bucky's sentiments and Steve rolled his eyes when you suggested Carol up as a potential booty call. "What? She's fucking hot. Smart. Funny."
"Captain America, Captain Marvel..." Bucky slurred out a burp and the two of you busted into laughter - giggling like children. Steve instantly turned red and that just made the laughter louder until Carol called out to see what was so funny.
"Don't say a word," Steve grumbled under his breath, pulling at his shirt. "...stay here."
Bucky and you watched as Steve made his way to the booth, sliding next to Carol, who smiled at him. Sam looked over to you and Bucky held a hazy finger to his lips - the veteran understood and quickly excused himself from the booth. He didn't bother walking over to Bucky and you, because everyone knew the two of you were ridiculous together, sober or drunk. Most people couldn't stand being in a room with the two of you for more than a few minutes; hands all over each other or worse, jokes and laughter that seemed endless.
Turning to face your boyfriend, you squished his cheeks and he practically beamed. He was totally drunk and you were totally in love. He kissed you on the lips, at first gently but then his grip tightened at your waist and you buckled against his body.
"....so cute I could eat."
"What's stopping you? The bathroom is unisex..."
Bucky practically welp, gathering you up in his arms in a haste. Having a former super solider as a boyfriend had its perks - his stamina was endless, his physique would make a grown man cry, but his strength? That man could lift hundreds of pounds, so no matter your weight - this motherfucker made you feel light as a feather. And boy, you could get him stiff as a board.
"I just know you're thinking nasty shit," he groaned, moving you towards the bathroom.
"I am but pure of heart, James."
Bucky smiled contently, kicking the bathroom open. It was as good as a bar restroom could get. He placed you gently on the sink and made sure the door was locked. Two strides, that's all it took for him to get on his knees and pulling your panties down from under your skirt. His eyes rolled back for a moment as he took in the sight, but then he glanced up at you with a devilish smile as he firmly spread your legs.
"I love you," he whispered right before diving in-between your thighs.
Rendered speechless, all you could do was grip his hair and lean back into the sink mirror; the lowlights flickering as Bucky reminded you how much you loved drunk him. When all his inhibitions disappeared and he got to enjoy the little things in life - which included going to bars with your closest friends, running the highest of tabs, trying to hook up friends, and most importantly, going down on your girlfriend in a dingy bathroom.
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