#and i like the mullet hair but what if it got combed into the sides and held up by a little star piece | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harlowcomehome · 8 months

Text

Mullet concept:

“Baby, c’mere” Jack motioned with two fingers for you to come closer to him as he sat in the living room.

“What’s up?” You dried off your hands with a kitchen towel and walked over to him.

He patted his leg, motioning for you to sit on his lap. He had his phone unlocked ready to show you something.

“Now just hear me out.”

“Oh god,” you dramatically threw your head back making his entire body shake as he laughed.

“Just picture this but on me” he started to show you hairstyles on his phone.

“Like a Peso Pluma type mullet?” You turned to him running your fingers through his curls with a giggle.

“I mean not exactly” he shrugged feeling like you didn’t like the idea.

His face got red with embarrassment as he locked his phone, struggling to put it in his pants with you on top of him.

“Nevermind, it’s stupid” he mumbled, as you slid off his leg and sat beside him.

You had clearly struck a nerve, or hurt his feelings in some way.

“Hold on” you stood up, making your way to the bathroom. You dug through the drawers finding bobby pins and bringing a spray bottle, hand-held mirror, and comb with you back to the couch.

When you came back to the room, Jack was still sitting on the couch pouting as he watched what was playing on the TV.

“Go get a chair, let’s try something” You held up the items you had in your hand.

He smiled, kissing you on the top of the head before bringing a chair and setting it down in front of the couch before sitting in it and patiently waiting for you to start playing with his hair.

“Before you go and cut all your curls off, let’s get an idea of what this is going to look like, okay?” You stood in front of him with a smile.

“I didn’t think you liked the idea” he mumbled, still unsure of your reaction.

“It’s just hair babe. If you like it, I love it” You shrugged as you started to dampen the curls by his ears.

You used bobby pins to shape the hair on the sides before fluffing out the curls that sat on his forehead.

“What do we think?” He watched your facial expression as you stood back from him to get a better look.

“What do YOU think?” You smiled as you handed him the mirror.

His eyes lit up immediately, he had been in such a funk lately that you hadn’t seen him genuinely smile in what felt like months.

“I look good” he pressed his tongue against his teeth, flashing you that signature smile.

“You look sexy” You bit your lip suggestively, partly for dramatics but mostly to prove a point.

“You really like it?” He smiled, making his cheeks hurt.

“I love it, and how did I never realize you have such cute ears?” You walked over to him flicking one of them playfully.

“I’ll call and have someone come cut it tomorrow” he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Thank you for always being so supportive” he rubbed his hands up and down your body.

“It’s just hair! Plus, if you leave it long back there I might just have something to…” you stopped taking notice of the look he was already giving you.

“Don’t play with me woman, I’ll have someone come cut it right now” he took his phone out of his pocket holding it high in the air.

“So do it” you giggled as you walked out of the room.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow fics #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb

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scribble-dribble-writes · 1 year

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Tomorrow

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Pairing: Obiwan x you

Content: Sleepy Obiwan beckons you to join him.

Warnings: none

Word count: 850

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“Love.”, he calls for you but it sounds like a gentle cry as he emerges by the doorway to your kitchen. You can see him in your peripheral vision but the fresh batch of cookies you made demanded your attention.

It isn’t easy running a bakery on Coruscant when you cater to the elite. Everything needs to be perfect and so trialing out new recipes meant late nights of burnt batches or a messy kitchen. But your Jedi husband now stands leaning on the doorway with his arms folded and a blanket wrapped around him.

The oven had managed to keep the area around you warm, but the nights on this lustrous planet were too cold to walk around without a woolen cover.

You check the colour. Golden brown. Perfect.

The smell. Divine.

You break one and pop the piece into your mouth. The flavour, the ingredients you had chosen worked well together. Outstanding.

A proud smile worked it’s way across your face even as you tried to hide it. This was going to be another best seller. You dust your hands and your mind now jumped onto the next task. The icing and decoration. But as you turned to get something, Obiwan had made his way towards you.

“New batch. New recipe.”, you still hadn't figured out why he was here but you always loved to share the first of your creations with him.

You held a small broken cookie piece near his mouth and he ate it. His hand reaching up to hold yours as you waited for his reaction. His eyes found yours as he chewed slowly. Elegant as always, but as you stood there, he looped his hand behind your waist and drew you closer.

“Another bestseller.”, he smiled with approval and it made you beam with the happiness of satisfaction.

“Now, come to sleep.”, he mumbled against your lips as he kissed you, the taste of fresh butter from his lips made it difficult to resist his request.

“Yes, in a while, the icing – you start to say but forget the rest as he held you and the comfort of his warmth soaked into your body.

In all the madness to perfect this batch, you had actually forgotten to realize how tired you were.

His locks were set free from the combed back mullet he sported during the day and his beard had caused a faint burn against your skin. His Jedi robes were no where to be seen as he leaned away. His skin gleaming a soft sunkissed glow under the warm lighting, his soft linen pants made it certain that he was done with business and now yearned for your company, lastly his sleepy eyes made you reconsider the icing project.

“I am feeling a bit tired. But I do have to close up the station before I can join you.”, you sigh as you look around the kitchen island and the counter top, full of pot and pans.

But he chuckled as though he was bemused, he didn’t let you go, instead leaned in to kiss the side of your neck under your ear as he whispered, “You often forget I’m a Jedi, darling.”

And as he said it, he used the force to move the icing bowls together, place the lids back on opened vessels and within seconds everything was sorted. You smiled, allowing yourself to sink into his arms.

“I thought that was why you liked me.”, you fought a yawn as you turned to him.

“One of the many reasons why I fell in love with you.”, he replied as he opened up his blanket wrap for you to join in.

“Ah. What are the other reasons?”, you ask as you wrap an arm around his bare waist and as you covered yourself under his blanket.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”, he kissed your forehead as you walked along with him down the dark corridor towards your bedroom.

You put away your jewelry while he got comfortable on his side of the bed and when you took longer to brush your hair, he groaned impatiently as he called your name.

All you could do was laugh in response to his needy pleas and playful jests as you got beneath the covers and fell back onto the pillows next to him.

“I’m here. I’m here.”, you pacify his as you smiled to look at the deep blue of his eyes.

“Took you long enough.”, he frowned innocently.

“Even Grievous doesn’t keep me waiting for that long in the battlefield.”, he mumbled again as he wrapped his arms around you not desiring to wait any longer. You gasp to his statement when he finally rests with his head tucked under your neck as your fingers stroked his hair.

“You take that back.”, you whisper.

“No.”, he speaks into your skin.

“Fine, then I’ll go back downstairs to finish up my icings then.”, you say in mock protest which makes him hold you tighter and nuzzle closer.

“No.”, he says softly.

“Stay with me.”, he says it like it was his only wish and you knew in your heart you could never put work above him.

So you let your hands dip further as you traced the rise and fall of the muscles on his back and before you knew it, under the warmth of the blankets and in the peace of being with each other. Sleep had found you both.

#obi wan my beloved #obi wan imagine #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obiwan x reader #obiwan kenobi #obiwan x fluff

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mamisfavmosher · 10 months

Note

JD SMUT CELEBRATING DOMS NA TITLE

thank you for the request!

Anything for the New Champion // reader x poly! judgment day (*)

SMUT - MINORS DNI

warnings: smut, language, double penetration, anal, probably more

Readers POV

Boos filled the arena as Dominik was handed his new North American Championship. Rhea, Finn, Damien, and I rushed into the ring to surround Dom in a group hug, excitedly jumping around and hyping him up. We made our way backstage after showing off to the fans and bragging about Dom's victory, quickly rushing into our dressing room.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, showering his face with little kisses while Rhea hugged his waist, peppering kisses on his neck and shoulders. Damien took the time to ruffle Dom's hair real quick before planting a kiss on top of his head.

"All right, champ, let's take this to the hotel room." Finn said with a chuckle, grabbing his keys and ushering the bundle of us out of the dressing room.

The car ride back to the hotel room was filled with giggles, proud smiles, warm touches, and lots of kisses. Dom was sat in the middle seat of the back row, Rhea and I on either side of him taking turns showing him our affection. When we made it back to the hotel, we hurried up to the room. Unlocking the door and walking in, Finn immediately moved Dom over to the bed and pushed him to lay down on it. Rhea laid down next to Dom so that she could easily access his neck, quickly getting to work on making her marks.

"Mami..." He craned his neck to look at Rhea and gave her a smile. "Easy." His attempt at slowing her actions only made her attack on his neck harder with her teeth, biting and bruising the skin.

"Sorry, Dom Dom. We're just so proud of you," She smirked. "Gotta make sure everyone knows you're our champion." Rhea leaned up to kiss him deeply on the lips.

"She's right, Dom. You made us very proud tonight." Damien smiled at him. "So, tonight you get whatever you want."

"Yeah, anything for the new champion." I said and sweetly kissed his cheek.

"You guys mean it? Anything I want?" Dom asked with raised eyebrows and a huge grin.

"Anything at all, buddy." Finn answered as we all chuckled and laughed at Dom's surprise.

"So, what's the plan, champion? What do you want us to do?" I asked, combing my fingers through his soft mullet and slowly kissing the other side of his neck that Rhea wasn't occupying. He took a second to think about the offer and his face instantly lit up.

"Well, there is something I've been wanting to try..." He gently pulled away from Rhea and I and shifted so that he was sitting on his knees between us. "But only if you two are okay with it. Just tell me no if you don't like the idea." He gave us a serious look and we nodded. "I really wanna try double penetrating you both. Like taking turns, maybe?" Dom looked at us for approval and we both smirked at him.

"Sounds good to me. Mami?" I said, turning to look at her. She sighed, rolling her eyes at the thought of anal. Regardless of the fact that she had done anal plenty of times and had enjoyed herself, it still wasn't her favorite way to go about fucking. She always preferred to be the one in charge.

"Fine. But only if I get a turn putting my strap in her, too!" Rhea responded. Dom happily agreed and eagerly got undressed, the rest of us following suit.

Damien and Finn laid down on the bed, stroking themselves as they waited for Rhea and I. Mami kissed Dom on the lips before leading the way and situating herself onto Damien's cock. I followed behind, slowly sinking onto Finn's cock. The four of us were a bundle of moans and whimpers waiting on Dom as he stroked himself in his hand, taking in the scene before him.

"Hurry up, Dom Dom!" Rhea said while pushing her hips back to make a point.

"Alright, alright." He chuckled before thrusting into Mami, both of them letting out loud moans. I whimpered at the sight and attempted to rock my hips against Finn, practically begging him to move.

"Not yet, love. Gotta wait for the champion." Finn smirked, but slyly snuck a finger down to rub at my clit. I sat on Finn's dick for what felt like forever until Dom finally pulled out of Rhea and scooted over to Finn and I. I felt him position himself behind me, quickly thrusting in. Finn started rocking his hips up into me at the same time and I couldn't help the sounds escaping my throat. The pleasure was intense as both cocks thrusted in and out at different speeds.

Rhea moved off of Damien after they both orgasmed and started attaching her strap-on to her hips. Dom was on the verge of finishing when Rhea told him to wait. I whined as he pulled out of me, but quickly got excited again when Rhea positioned me on top of her, rubbing the tip of the toy through my folds.

"Ready, Dom Dom? We're gonna fill her up at the same time." She smiled sweetly at the two of us. Not long after, I felt Dom behind me again and both cocks pushed into me, stretching my holes. It didn't take long for Dom's hips to stutter, filling me with his release as Rhea still rutted her hips into me. "Close, baby?" She asked and I nodded my head, moaning her praise. Dom reached around me and toyed at my clit, my orgasm approaching quickly after. The two carefully pulled out of me and chuckled as I flopped onto the bed.

"Well, champ? How was it?" Finn asked Dominik who had a big grin on his face.

"I should become a champion more often." He smirked and the rest of us laughed, Damien ruffling his hair. The rest of the night was spent cuddling in bed and admiring Dom, who was modeling his new champion belt for us.

Sorry this took so long!

#the judgement day #dominik mysterio #rhea ripley #finn balor #damian priest #wwe #wwe superstars #fanfiction #x reader #wrestling #dominik mysterio x reader #rhea ripley x reader #damien priest x reader #finn balor x reader

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bonetrousledbones · 10 months

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This isn't a bad undertale opinion but I think mullets are bad and ugly forever "but what about the modern version of the mullet-" THAT ISN'T A MULLET, THAT IS SOMEONE WHO NEEDS TO GET THE SIDES OF THEIR HEAD SHAVED AGAIN TO TOUCH UP THE MULLET. It's not a mullet in the same way that when my own stupid specific multi-length haircut isn't RIGHT when it's overgrown so I need to get it cut. The overgrown mullet is something else entirely, like a wolf cut.

IF YOU DON'T HAVE THE SIDES SHAVED IT ISN'T A MULLET, IF THE TOP IS THE SAME LENGTH AS THE BACK, THAT ISN'T A MULLET (it's a failed mohawk). If my haircut was used by someone else but they got rid of the bangs, that's not the same haircut, if someone took my haircut but shortened the side pieces until they were nearly the same length as the back stuff, then that's a different haircut, or if they grew out the back so it was nearly the same length as the front long bits then it's NOT THE SAME.

If you look up mullet right now you'll see people with medium-short length hair who've combed it back and are claiming it's a mullet!

This is not a mullet, this is short hair combed back

This is not a mullet, it's a wolf cut.

Not a mullet, this is just short hair.

F- you didn't even fucking try this is just HAIR WITH BANGS!!!!

THIS!!!! IS A MULLET!!!!!! Short on top, long on the back, shaved on the sides! THAT'S A MULLET

I can't believe I am out here fighting for the integrity of the definition of the MULLET when it's ACTUALLY MY ENEMY but here I fucking am gnbdsjkgbskgbsdk My 7th grade substitute English teacher didn't wear a traditional mullet in 2009 just for people to make up new hairstyles and lie and say they're mullets.

completely understandable thing to have an opinion on but this is so funny to me specifically because i think my graduating class had at least 4 mullets in it

#trousled rambles #bad opinion zone #oh the joys of living in the hippie south #i think one guy did it as a homecoming campaign thing. another guy was just a redneck #i WILL say i think a mullet can have a little more on the sides than that last photo #but that one definitely emphasizes the length difference lol

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charm6997 · 11 months

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This was a what if type situation like Ghost with like a Mullet and its grown too long and kinda peeks out from under the back of his mask >..> The mask I was thinking of using for this was the one from the " “Simon "Ghost" Riley "Face Reveal" Cutscene | Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II” …….

Yeah it does look snug around the neck but Imma make it work !

I also did this outta pure boredom :D

Also look up Spencer henry for the hair length of the mullet !

Word count: 453

Reader is 5’6 (Foot then inches) No use of gender pronouns will be referred to as you A former hairdresser prior to joining the military This flops or something I tried writing something new 😀

—- After each sparring session you and Ghost had , you’d stare at him well the back of his neck more spefically , because of something attached to the back of his mask and did he notice at first no not really. But after a couple of days , and more sparring sessions , you'd huff staring at the back of his neck again trying to figure out what it was. The thing you were staring at you thought was a thread , but in reality it wasn't , it was actually a piece of Ghost's hair.

Your mind instantly decided to tempt you to pull it , but knowing how that would end , you decided not to.

After getting to the mess hall , and getting your food , you sit by Ghost as he mentions needing a haircut.

You asked him if he planned to go to a barber shop , and when he replied no , you offered to cut his hair for him.

Everyone at the table froze , of course , as you explained that you were a hair stylist pre-military.

You ate quietly , after mentioning that , and watched as Ghost side glanced at you thinking about your offer.

After you were done eating , and talking with the rest of 141 , you decided to go to your room.

~20 minutes later ~

You are in your room, working on paperwork, as Ghost walked in unannounced and said yes to your offer.

You laughed softly , and set your work aside , before you got everything set up for him to get the cut done.

And yes you had everything a hair stylist would have at a salon or Barber shop in your room.

Ghost sat on the chair you had prepared for him , as you went to close the door and got some music going , and he took his mask off.

You gave him a towel to use to cover his face , since you thought he didn't trust you that much , he took the towel covering his face.

You wet his hair with a spray bottle that had water and a lavender essential oil into it , and so you spritz his hair gently combing through it , which earned you a small mumbled "it feels good" Which cause your heart to swell , as you continued to work , and sing softly to the song "The Magick" by Witchz.

~1 hour later~

You finished off the haircut with a gentle scalp massage , which Ghost seemed to enjoy with the way he nuzzled your hand , after you pulled your hand away he ran his own hand through his hair.

You turned away from him , so he could put his mask on properly , he gave you his thanks before dusting himself off. You smiled . and began to clean up , as he left. After that you became his personal hairdresser and were extremely happy he would let you cut his hair again.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod mwii #ghost x reader #cod ghost #ghost riley #x gender neutral reader

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miinesweeper · 3 years

Text

marlon ⌁ a trim

pronouns: they/them request: yeah yeah, sorry it took so long type: fluff

“is it really that bad?”

marlon ran his fingers through his stringy and greasy hair as he looked in the mirror. in the two years that y/n had known marlon, they’d never seen him look at himself in the mirror for more than a couple of seconds, if ever.

“did vi’s comment really make you that upset?” y/n asked in reply, casually dancing around the question. an apocalypse mullet was an apocalypse mullet, it really couldn’t look that good. although, y/n did think it fit marlon, it really suited him.

marlon glanced back at them through the mirror. they stood against the bathroom wall, looking right back at him, “i’m not upset,” he answered with strained calmness in his voice.

y/n wasn’t going to argue with that, but they knew it was a lie. their question, in a way, had been rhetorical. they’d have been upset too if violet had said their hair looked like a dead cat. they looked at him thoughtfully. the shaved sides of his head had grown out and became just a little too long, and his hair was becoming scraggly, tangled and unkempt.

even an apocalypse mullet needed upkeep.

“do you know where some scissors are?” y/n asked as they stood up straight, their voice echoing into the large room.

“why?” marlon asked defensively. even if no one else liked it, he wasn’t going to let y/n cut his mullet off. he wouldn’t look any better with a buzz cut. he turned back to them, looking straight at them rather than at their reflection in the mirror.

“relax, mar,” y/n said, chuckling a little at how he put his hands up to his hair, as if he had to protect it from being sheered off, “i’m just gonna give you a little trim.”

“do you even know how to cut hair?” marlon asked, sitting at a chair in front of the mirror with y/n behind him, looking at his hair like an artist looks at a canvas and wondering what to do with it.

y/n took a few seconds to answer. either they were too focused on thinking of where to start, or they didn’t want to worry him by telling him they had no idea what they were doing.

“i mean, i’m not like a hairstylist or anything,”

“maybe i should just let it grow out,”

“oh relax, i got this,”

on his shoulder, y/n gently and repetitively tapped their fingers, looking from the back of his head to him in the mirror, “you’ll be mullet man 2.0 if you let me do this,”

marlon stifled a laugh, looking y/n (’s reflection) in the eyes with a side smile, “alright, go for it,”

“close your eyes,” y/n replied excitedly.

“do i have to?” the worry returned to his voice.

“yes,” y/n said, dead serious.

marlon didn’t even care at that point; no matter what they did, it would grow back anyway, “alright, fine.”

“okay now sit still,”

there was a moment of silence before quiet snipping sounds crackled into marlon’s ears, but were just a little too quiet to echo into the room.

“can i open my eyes yet?” marlon asked, the sounds of crackled sheering had paused, and he wondered what y/n was doing.

they took a second to answer, examining their work and deciding if it needed anymore finishing touches.

“one sec,” y/n answered and pulled something out of their pocket.

marlon grunted as they yanked a comb through his tangles, “goddamn you have a lot of knots,”

“what do you expect? i didn’t even know we had a comb here,”

“well, now you know,” y/n answered, ignoring his attitude which they often had to do.

“okay, now i think you can open,” they replied after a little more yanking.

y/n set the scissors and comb on the edge of the sink and looked at him as he looked at himself.

the sides of his head were even and trimmed up, and the middle part was just a little shorter, and in better condition than it had been in years. he’d never really had someone there to take care of him like that, someone who’d go through the trouble to help him out.

marlon wouldn’t admit it, but it made him feel a lot better about what violet had said earlier.

“you’re allowed to say thanks, you dope,” y/n said and nudged him, smiling.

marlon looked from his reflection to y/n, “thanks,” he said, sounding much calmer than he looked, “a lot,”

“you got it,” y/n said as they looked at him, happy to see a smile on his face. it was too often that they had to see him wearing a scowl. “y’know, just schedule an appointment next time you need a trim,”

marlon chuckled and rolled his eyes and just hugged them, “i love you.”

“i love you too,” y/n said happily, wrapping their arms around him, “mullet man 2.0,”

#twdg marlon #marlon twdg #twdg marlon x reader #marlon x reader #twdg #twdg s4 #twdg x reader

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artanddaddyissues · 2 years

Text

Haircut in Hiding

Hey hey! this is pure fluff, maybe suggested smut at the end but it's barely anything LOL

Summary: After seeing a man in the corner store with an amazing mullet, you form an amazing idea.

1k words of cuteness and love! Enjoy <3

You’ve been on the run for a while now. Whenever there is a routine, it changes, whenever something seems stable, you move. You had to convince Steve multiple times that he should grow a beard. For the longest time he’s been clean shaven but he is slowly adjusting and even starting to like his growing beard. Along with his new facial hair, his hair has also gotten significantly longer. He almost looks like a different man now, but you’re super into it. Rugged looks good on him...

Today, as you walk to the corner store the man behind the counter who cashed out your bag of chips and a few other supplies had a mullet. The beautiful, modern mullet. Long in the back, shorter in the front, layers and sort of uneven but it looked great. As you walk out of that corner store, an idea strikes you.

“Hey Stevie~” You sing as you get into the truck,

“What do you want?” He chuckles, knowing that familiar ring in your voice.

“Nothing, nothing.” He nods and raises an eyebrow suspiciously as he pulls out of the parking space.

“Did you have a good bathroom break? You’re smiling.”

“I just thought of something… fun to do.” Although his eyes are focused on the road, you’ve got his attention now. He waits in silence for you to speak, going as far as turning off the radio.

You sigh and give in, “I saw this guy in the store.” You hold out a potato chip to his lips which he takes. “And the first thing I noticed about him was-”

“Oh, somebodys in loveee~” He jokes, “Look at you, blushing over a stranger.”

You punch his shoulder and he laughs, rubbing the spot on his arm you probably just bruised, “I’m sorry, continue sweetheart.”

You clear your throat, digging in the bag to find the perfect chip, “I will. As I was saying, the first thing I noticed about him was his hair. It looked like yours but it was black.”

Steve nods, still confused as you continue. “andddd, I realized that his hair length was really close to yours and…”

Steve chuckles in realization, patting his thumbs on the top of the wheel, “You want to cut my hair?”

You nod and smile, “Please, please please! I think it would look so good on you!”

“What was his hair like?”

“Well, it was like a mullet. Longer in the back, shorter in the front, with layers. It looks so cute and swoopy and fluffy.”

“fluffy? Hair can be fluffy?”

“Yes. So what do you say? Is that a yes?” You tilt your head back and lift the chip bag over your mouth, finishing all the small salty pieces.

Steve thinks for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. “Love, it's not that big of a deal. I can always just shave your head if you don't like it!”

Steve laughs and nods, “You can cut my hair, that's fine.”

“Really?!” He nods and smiles.

Before you know it, Steve is sitting in the kitchen, with no shirt and his well worn sweatpants on. You’re setting up a little station on the table, clippers, and a comb. Steve sits and rolls his shoulders, relaxing at your touch. Stepping behind him, you run your hands over his shoulders and lean down to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t mess up, please.”

“No promises sweetheart.” He sighs as you grab a brush, raking through his hair almost effortlessly.

“Your hair is so soft.” You say as you run your hands through his locks. He closes his eyes and breathes out, loving the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

You part his hair, exposing the sides of his head and begin trimming hair down. The sounds of breathing and snipping fill the room with the occasional bird or rustle of tree branches.

As you work, Steve remains still, relaxed, as if he forgot you can fuck this up at any moment. He’s suddenly reminded when you breathe a quiet, “oops”

“What?”

“I may have cut something a little too short-”

“How bad is it?”

“Wow, you have no faith in me…” He sighs but holds back laughter, only letting a chuckle slip.

Finally, after cutting and snipping and trimming you’re done. You brush off his shoulders and smile confidently as he stands up, shaking himself off. “You look… so good.”

He turns to face you and he smiles, “I'll believe it when I see it.”

You roll your eyes as he takes your hand, leading you to the bathroom. Before he can step in, you reach up and cover his eyes. “For dramatic effect.” He nods and walks inside. You turn on the light and uncover his eyes.

He smiles and leans forwards, “You know what darling?”

“Tell me I did amazing-” He silences you with a warm kiss, “I really like it. You did great.” You sit on the bathroom counter and Steve steps between your legs, resting one hand on your thigh while the other runs through his hair, over and over again.

You begin laughing and wrap your arms around his waist, “I think you look hot.”

He chuckles as his cheeks slowly turn pink, “Thank you. The hair feels good.”

You rest your head on his chest, squeezing him lightly, listening to his heartbeat and the vibrations of his voice. He rests his head on top of yours, wrapping his arms around you. As if you are savouring the moment neither of you speak.

“This is nice” You smile against his chest and kiss his bare pec before looking up at him.

He meets your gaze and moves one hand up to cup your cheek. Your lips soon meet in a soft kiss. He steps back and turns on the shower, looking at you suggestively, “I’m going to wash the rest of the hair off, care to join me?”

He barely finishes the sentence when you close the door and lock it.

#steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #marvel mcu #marvel #nomad steve #captain america civil war #the avengers infinity war #the avengers #captain america #captain america smut #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic

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vldkeith · 3 years

Text

keithtober💢🎃🔪 day 21: mullet💇🏻

🔗read on ao3

content included: vaguely suggestive theme, pillow talk, klance, mullet discussion. it's just cheesy tbh

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

“So…why do you have a mullet, anyway?” Lance asks, picking and prodding at Keith’s hair from his place on the bed next to him. Keith’s just starting to get cold—neither of them are dressed from their…activities yet—so the warmth of Lance’s touch is welcome.

He leans into it and hums. “I dunno. Easy to take care of.”

“Is it, though?” Lance raises an eyebrow and tugs lightly on a strand of hair framing Keith’s face, making Keith scrunch his nose and glare. “I feel like it would be harder. Like, all I gotta do after showering is, like, comb my hair. You have to brush it. And I know you style it a little in the morning.”

Keith makes a tch noise, still burrowing into Lance’s warmth. He’d just spent the better part of an hour pulling at Keith’s hair; is that not enough to get him to stop questioning it? But Keith knows all too well that Lance has a fascination with his hair, and sometimes it benefits him, when Lance gets distracted by it when they’re practicing sparring, or whatever, so he lets it be.

Besides, this time, Lance’s questions are conversational, curious. He’s not making fun of Keith for having hair like he does, for once. Keith counts that as a win.

“It’s not that hard,” he replies, shrugging as best he can when he’s laying down. His skin sticks to the sheets bundled around him, still. “I use a comb too, actually. It’s really not that different.”

Lance gives a doubtful noise. “If you say so. Emo boy.”

“Oh, shut up,” Keith says, but there’s very clearly a smile in his voice; Lance giggles at him, leaning in and pecking his nose lightly. “You like it. I know you do.”

“I’ll deny it if you ever tell anyone,” Lance promises, reaching forward and cupping the side of Keith’s face in his hands. Keith lets his head rest there, even though Lance’s hands are sticky, too. “For real, though. I think you have a mullet because it makes you look, like, alternative. 80s emo boy.”

80s emo boy. The title makes Keith laugh, if only because it’s surprisingly accurate to the kind of look he goes for, even if it’s not conscious. Well, it’s kind of conscious. Nobody really needs to know that, though.

“At least I don’t have a Billy Ray Cyrus mullet,” Keith points out, arching a brow. Lance gives him a stricken look.

“Oh, man,” he says with a shake of his head, snuggling closer into Keith. “Yeah. That’s a pretty horrifying thought.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to say I’d look good no matter what, aren’t you?” Keith asks, amused.

“Do you want a relationship built on lies?” Lance responds emphatically. The dramatics of his voice draw a snicker out of Keith, and he falls in love all over again.

He shuffles forward, pressing his palms against Lance’s smooth, sweaty chest. “As if our relationship is built off of my hair.”

“It’s the first thing I noticed about you,” Lance says, his eyes fluttering shut as Keith absently brushes his hands across his skin, warm and supple. “H-Hey. Mmm. Sensitive skin, yeah?”

“So?” Keith hums under his breath, leaning forward and kissing across Lance’s jawline. “You got plans today?”

“Other than making fun of your hair? Guess not.” Lance means to be sarcastic, but his voice is too breathless to fully pull it off; Keith smirks against his neck, feeling like he’s achieved something.

Quickly and quietly, Keith rolls himself over on top of Lance, tangling the sheets up even more. Lance exhales a sigh, his hands automatically falling to Keith’s hips, thumbs rubbing into them soothingly. Keith purrs.

“There are better things we can do with my hair than you mocking it,” Keith says, pulling himself down so that their noses are touching. Lance snorts, but his cheeks are colored dark, and Keith can tell he’s receptive.

“I guess there are,” he murmurs in agreement, letting one of his hands tangle into Keith’s hair. He shifts slightly, causing Keith to gasp on top of him. “If you’ll let me.”

At that, Keith breathes out a laugh, tightening his thighs around Lance’s middle.

“Always. Unfortunately.”

Their lips meet in a kiss, and the soft rustling of the sheets hums through the room, peaceful and happy.

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☕️ko-fi - so i can afford a haircut 😩

#keith kogane #keithtober2021 #klance #voltron #vld keith #renfic

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years

Note

Hello! I’m new here. I’d like to request the boys, separately, with a cuddly girlfriend. Or just how they are with being affectionate/cuddling

Oh this has so much fluff potential! I hope you enjoy!!

The Lost Boys x Cuddly/Affectionate Fem!S/O

David

David doesn’t look like a cuddly guy. He wears all black, has an earring, and a bleached mullet. He, also, leads a biker gang and kills people nightly. There’s just something about that that doesn’t necessarily scream ‘cuddle me’! But when he met you for the first time and you enwrapped him in a big, tight hug, he knew he was going to keep you. You weren’t afraid of him, and, most importantly, you weren’t afraid to show how much you liked him. Even if you’d only just met him.

The attention. The worship. He absolutely lives for it. He loves how much attention you pay him, even if he doesn’t give anything back. It makes him feel like a king to be showered in so much love.

Honestly, at the boardwalk, the most he’ll give you is an arm around the waist and he’ll purposely tease you by basically ignoring you otherwise. He loves how many lengths you’ll go just to get a smile from him. Just as you're about to give up, he’ll grace you with one of his irresistible smiles and ask, “Need something, sweets?” And you’re right back to showering him in attention. If you really, really give up, he’ll give you a kiss. That’ll usually get you back to your cuddly self

He’ll tease you for how much attention you give him. He’ll call you clingy and needy, but he never means it in a bad way. He thinks it’s cute, and god knows this boy is attention starved. Between Max and the nightly killings for however many years, it’s been a long time since someone has seen him and seen someone worth giving some genuine loving to. Not just sexual loving.

If you take it as a bad thing, he’ll make sure to keep you from becoming too insecure by kissing your knuckles or caressing your cheek. It’s more than his usual amount of attention, so you must be doing something right.

David doesn’t really give you attention back until you’re back at the cave. He has a reputation to uphold, but not in front of his boys. He’ll sit on his wheelchair and drape you over his lap. It’s the first time that night where he’ll be the one that’s holding you. He’ll hold your knee, rub your thigh, and smooth his hand down your side. He’ll use the close proximity to have easy access to your neck, where he’ll pepper kisses and whisper sweet words. He’ll tell you how cute you are, and hold you tight against him as the boys around him amuse themselves with their own shenanigans.

The only time that you two will really, truly cuddle is in the nest he’s made you inside the cave. The wheelchair is great, but it’s hard to sit there for hours. Usually, the two of you will cuddle after one of your trysts. David will have a cigarette dangling from his lips as he reads, and he’ll have you lay your head on his chest. He’ll comb his fingers through your hair, almost as if he’s petting you. It’s why he calls you his kitten. To him, that’s exactly what you remind him of. When you fall asleep for the night, he’ll smile down at you and kiss the top of your head. He’ll set his book down so he can pull you closer, snuffing out the cigarette so he can bury his face into your hair and inhale your scent instead.

Dwayne

Dwayne is the definition of intimidating. He’s so tall that he looms over people most of the time, and it doesn’t help that he’s got a permanently stoic expression on his face whenever he’s talking to people that aren’t the boys. Sometimes, he’ll grace cute girls with a some smiles, but those are usually only the girls he wants to eat. When you two met and you immediately brought him into a hug, he had no idea what to do. He just kind of stood there.

Dwayne didn’t really understand what being touch starved was until he met you. He’s been murdering people for decades, the only parental figure he has is Max, and the boys aren’t exactly cuddling eachother twenty-four seven. They’ll rough-house and push eachother, but they don’t necessarily hug one another. The second you pulled away from your hug (it was like hugging a brick wall) his mind just kind of went wait, come back. He practically followed you around like a confused puppy after that. He hadn’t realized that he’d been missing anything until you gave it to him, and, as far as he was concerned, that was directly tied with you

He lets you touch him as much as you please. You can touch his face, hair, hands, and even his chest. Though, when you do the latter he may give you an arched brow and a small smirk. He doesn’t return the affection nearly as much, mainly because he doesn’t even know where to start. Once you two have been dating for awhile, he’ll start to get the hang of it. He’ll usually add on to whatever you give him or return it

You hold his hand? He’ll intertwine your fingers. You hug him? He’ll hold you so tight you think he might break you. You give him a kiss on the cheek? He’ll give you a forehead kiss. It’s the most affectionate the boys have ever seen him and they’ll definitely give him shit for it.

It’s why, even when back at the cave, he still won’t wander too far out of his comfort zone. He’ll let you do whatever you want, but he’ll really only reciprocate whatever you give him. The two of you will sit on the couch and he’ll hold your legs in his lap. Just the act of him touching your legs is considered more than normal, and he’ll lean his head against the back of the couch as you ramble to him.

When you two are back at your house, that’s when his walls truly fall down. The second you’re in bed with him, you’re not allowed to leave. This is when you really get to explore all of his boundaries, and he’ll truly just melt under your fingertips. You can braid his hair or give him a scalp massage, caress his face, and hold him as close as you want. He’ll practically be purring under your touch and you are not allowed to stop. He likes to face you while cuddling so he can kiss you as much as he wants. It’s a type of affection that he’s more familiar with. If you ever give this boy a massage, he’ll be clingy for days. He’ll look at you with so much love in his eyes and he won’t even care where you are when he pulls you in for kisses. The other boys be damned.

Marko

Markos the token wild card of the group. With a face like that and eyes as wide as his, you’d expect him to be an angel! Instead, he regularly murders people and gets into fights on the boardwalk. Seriously, he’s had to have his fellow vampires hold him back from destroying surf-punks right on the boardwalk. With a reputation like that, most people would avoid him. But not you. Upon meeting him, you gave him a big hug as a greeting. And, surprisingly, Marko hugged you right back.

Marko is the most affectionate of the boys. He even stands closer to the other boys and is always down for rough housing. But that doesn’t mean he gets a lot of positive touch. Most of the touching he gets is either play-fighting, actual fighting, or sexual touches from a cutie on the boardwalk before he sinks his fangs into them. To have someone walk up to him, see him, and decide “Must cuddle!” is not what he’s used to.

He openly welcomes it though. He uses physical affection to get his meals nightly. But you? You weren’t just flirting with him. You were just a cuddly person. He saw that in how you treated the others as well, and he quickly decided that you were going to be more than a meal.

He’s one of the only boys that will initiate a touch first. He’ll hold your hand, kiss your cheeks, and boop your nose. He thinks that you are too cute, and he’s not afraid to tell you. And when you match his energy, maybe even return the nose boop, he’s got heart eyes for days amd a smile so wide it’s almost concerning

He tunes out the boys teasing and dishes them back the cruelest revenge. He is so disgustingly cute with the PDA he gives you that the others have to look away. There, that’s better. Just because they’re no longer paying attention doesn’t mean it stops though. He wants kisses, cuddles, and pretty much everything you can give him. He doesn’t care if you’re in public! The public can frick off and he’ll pummel the first person that tries to get you two to pull away! You learn fairly quickly that that’s not an empty threat either

Somehow, he’s even more affectionate when you two are at the cave. This boy will straight up just lay on you. Whether that’s on the couch or in your nest, he doesn’t care. The two of you will giggle in-between kisses, and this boy will nuzzle your cheeks, hair, or neck. He likes to bury his face into your neck and inhale your scent as you play with his hair. He’ll wrap his arms under you and let out a content sigh when you kiss his ear, and he’ll reciprocate by pressing a kiss to your neck

He wants to cuddle all the time and as much as possible, and he’s happy he’s found someone willing to be as cuddly as he is. He’ll hold you all the time, even when you sleep. He may even try to find a way for him to sleep with you in the main room. If he succeeds, you two will effectively never have to be apart. Just how he likes it.

Paul

Paul is easily the friendliest of the boys. He’s got a care-free laid back attitude and he’s the chattiest of the four. He’ll strike up conversations with random people on the boardwalk, and he’s known to be a huge flirt. No one would expect him to be a murderer, especially one that commits utter atrocities nightly. They see him, and they think he’s just a regular, flirty teenage boy. When you hug him as a greeting, he’s overjoyed that someone was willing to make the first move. That’s exactly what he thinks it is. He reciprocates it with a flirty one-liner, and some touches of his own. However, they may not be as nearly as innocent.

When he realizes that you’re just a touchy person in general, he’s ecstatic. Finally, easy prey! He doesn’t need to worry about you slapping him because he got a little too handsy in public. He totally just sees you as a meal at first, even if the boys comment that the two of you seem to be getting pretty close. So what if he’s gonna eat you later? You can totally play with his hair! So what if you’re holding hands? He swears that he won’t get attached! No, he did not just give you his jacket as a completely romantic gesture. It’s just because he thought it would look cool and you were cold! Not because he’s scent marking you! Okay, he’s totally into you and totally attached. By the end of the night, you two are practically dating already.

Like Marko, he doesn’t care if you two are on the boardwalk or not. He wants affection and he wants it now. If it’s not given to him, he’s not afraid to whine, pout, and act like the biggest baby on the planet. Luckily, you’re super affectionate even with just your friends. With him, he gets to enjoy a whole onslaught of attention. He’ll grin and smile as you caress his face and play with his hair, and he’ll give you kisses every time he thinks you’re acting too adorable for him to handle

His brand of affection is far more flirty. He likes to pinch and grope, but it’s just how he shows that he thinks you look hot. He’ll reach down and fondle your butt, squeezing it like it’s a stress ball. He’ll totally makeout with you in public, and you have to be careful with this boy. He’s not afraid to pick you up, plop you on the railing, and totally stick his tongue down your throat in front of the Santa Carla locals.

If you go back to the cave, it’s hard to keep his hands off you. He’ll do his absolute best to climb on top of you, and the moment you’re under him his lips are on yours. Sit in his lap? Babe, you’re just asking to end up scarring the others. You’ll be in the middle of having some time with the boys, sitting in his lap and innocently playing with his hair. All it takes is for you to scratch one little sweet spot, and then he’s grabbing you and pining you down on the couch. What? What’d he do? Is exactly what he’d ask when he gets a chorus of “Jesus, Paul”

If you two lay in your nest, you’re asking for a couple of rounds to take place. Why else would you be on a bed? He likes to hold you from behind for more reasons than one. First, he gets to have your butt pressed up right against his special place. Second, he loves how he can completely envelope you in his arms. He gets to pull you close and kiss the back of your neck. Maybe even your cheek. Was that a non-sexual form of affection? Good thing you were asleep so you couldn’t notice.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #david the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #dwayne the lost boys #fluff

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milk-carton-whump · 3 years

Text

My longest single fic yet! Lol I definitely got carried away and didn't know what direction to take this but some hurt/comfort for Niner. 1,328 words! A new milk carton record!

Tagging: @sideblogformindtrash @tears-and-lilies @unicornscotty @getyourwhumphere @heathenville @cupcakes-and-pain @twistedcaretaker @skunkandgrenade @alliecat5594 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

CW: dehumaniziation, pet whump, smacked, conditioning, hurt/comfort, nudity (non sexual), forced to strip (non sexual), bathing, bath, cleaning wounds, haircut, blood mention, bruises, scar mention, touch starvation, fearful whumpee, cruel whumper, dubcon touching (non sexual)

Niner and the Groomer

It had been months upon months and Dr. Birch was pleased with the progress of K-9-MUT281, he had been a late bloomer in the program but it had all been worth it. She truly loved her job because she loved seeing transformations. It was always an experience to watch the pet's come in from the street their original personality showing only for it to be shaped by the program.

K-9-MUT281 had been a quiet, emotional, and meek thing when he had first come to them. But now, he was aggressive, protective, and instinct driven, though he did have a more docile side to him that they couldn't get rid of. The program was a science and with the subjects being so different there were many variables they couldn't control, however it managed to give each pet a personality that the owner could easily manipulate if they chose.

Dr. Birch approached the kennel where they kept many of the nearly fully trained pets, it was an upgrade from the large room they were given initially. Each pet had a small fenced rectangle that they could call theirs, in the guard dog unit each one was fiercely protected by its inhabitant.

She walked up to one of the gates and heard growling as she looked in. Inside was a boy with a pretty unruly mop of brown hair, he kept to himself in the corner of the enclosure and stayed low to the ground to keep himself safe. She could see from his watchful gaze that he wondered what she wanted with him.

Casually she unlocked the gate and entered the small kennel, this caused 281 to growl at her again and take up a more defensive stance to challenge her. A simple command to sit and stay was all she had to say for him to quiet his growling as he followed the order. She walked over and ran a hand through his hair, a soft growl came from his throat. The sound of her hand cracking across his face made his growling stop immediately, instead it turned into a softer whimper.

"Don't growl at me when I pet you, mutt. Being pet is a privilege, treat it as such." She snapped at him.

He trembled slightly and leaned into her touch, he had already been bad. After a few more moments of petting she clipped his leash on and gave it a sharp tug, making the collar dig into his neck. He got up and followed her out, the walk was long and through the winding blank hallways that he got easily bored with it and managed to start chewing on the leash as they walked.

Finally they reached a room that looked similar to the one the pet's normally were bathed in but this one was different. There was a table or platform with a leash looking thing attached to it. He was so busy trying to figure out what it was that the feeling of a muzzle being put on his face made him flinch. Dr. Birch patted his head as she hooked his leash to a spot on the wall.

"I'll be back later mutt, behave."

It took him a moment to realize that there was another person in the room with him, a friendly looking girl with pink hair that was pulled back into a short pony tail. She knelt down in front of him since he had defaulted to sitting on his knees. He looked at her wearily, unsure of what she was going to do to him.

"Hi there, good boy. We're gonna get you all groomed up so you can be put on sale tomorrow." She said softly and gently reached out to touch him.

He leaned away in concern, he was unsure of whether to trust her and scowled slightly to show he didn't really want her to touch him. She retracted her hand and instead grabbed the other end of the leash as she stood up.

"Well let's get you all cleaned up hmm? I'm Molly, what's your name good boy?" She asked as he hesitantly followed her to a bathtub.

"K-9-MUT281… ma'am." He said in a hushed voice while she asked him to strip off his company issued clothes.

"That's an awful long name Niner. But I'm sure your new owner will give you a shorter one?" She said casually as he climbed into the bathtub and hugged his knees to his chest.

"M'name isn't Niner…" he said softly as she showered him down with warm water, watching dried blood and dirt get washed down the drain.

"Don't worry yourself over that, I like to give each pet a little nickname, just while I work on them... That's okay, not too hot?" She said as he let her start to scrub his body.

He wouldn't admit it now but he liked the idea of his own little name, Niner was a nice name, short and easy to remember. However, he hated that she was touching him and scrubbing his body. He wasn't fond of baths after one of Dr. Birch's assistants sprayed him with a powerful hose. He couldn't explain it but the pink haired girl made this bath more tolerable.

She couldn't help but frown as she looked over his countless bruises, healing cuts, and scars that he had begun to develop. She was especially careful as she washed over newer bruises.

"Niner, can I trust you to not bite me? I need to wash your face." She asked softly.

He nodded, he liked her and wouldn't want to bite her, not anymore at least. He wanted to bite that horrible blonde Bitch though she didn't deserve his docile side.

The muzzle was unbuckled and hesitantly taken off, he just watched her carefully, in case she decided to betray the small bit of trust he had put in her. She gently wiped the dirt and tear stains from his face, the warm washcloth she used was wonderful and he leaned into her touch. She moved his collar to clean the partially scarred skin there.

"Alright sweetheart, I'm gonna wash your hair now." She said as she wet his brown hair with the shower head. It took her some time with detangling shampoo and her fingers to get the knots out.

She rinsed him off and started to dry him with a soft towel, he let out a quiet laugh as she gently squished his face with the towel. She put him in a new pair of socks and shorts. She had him sit on the odd table from earlier and looped the weird leash around his neck, he trembled and let out a soft whine.

"Relax Niner, you're okay. It's just to keep your head up while I cut your hair. You're a good boy, just sit still."

He was still trembling but let her comb and cut his hair, she shaped it just so it was more of a shaggy mullet. He couldn't explain it but his head felt lighter, it was a nice change. She got out a blow dryer and turned it on low to blow the little pieces of hair from his shoulders.

She took the loop off from around his neck and cupped his face in her hands. He let out a soft whine as she pet his face and hair, he immediately leaned into the touch and pressed his forehead against hers. She let out a soft laugh and smiled. He smiled though it was faint, he didn't want to become attached to her, he wasn't going to see her again after all.

"You're a good boy, Niner. I hope you find a nice home." She said as she buckled the wire muzzle back on.

He was good, he liked her and her friendly touch. If being a good boy meant that someone might pet him like that, then he would try to be a very good boy for his owner.

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hongism · 4 years

Text

under the stars - s.changbin 18+

➻ pairing: changbin x fem!reader

➻ wc: 1.9k

➻ genre: fluff, smut

➻ rating: nsfw

➻ warnings: explicit smut, fingering, outdoor sex, wrap it before u tap it unlike changbin n reader

➻ summary: maybe a stargazing date in the middle of winter wasn’t the best idea but changbin shows you how lovely it can be

➻ requested by: anonymous

➻ prompts:

“Do you want my hoodie?”

“Steal the blanket again, I dare you.”

Under the Stars

A cool breeze sweeps over the two of you, and you huddle closer to Changbin in attempts to use his body as a blockade. It isn’t the most effective plan, and the cold air hits you anyways, but at least Changbin is radiating a bit of body heat for you to press against. His gaze is still stuck to the sky and watching the stars glitter above you two; however, you can’t keep your eyes off his sharp features.

A small smile comes to your lips without you realizing it, and you tuck yourself further against his side. The thick fleece blanket over your bodies is doing a lot to block the cold temperature, but Changbin is hogging most of the fabric with his legs. You exhale slowly and press your head against his bicep, finally looking up at the sky with him.

It’s nice to just sit in each other’s presence like this; drinking in the night air with no one in sight and only the nightlife to keep you company.

“I think we should be able to see Orion’s belt sometime tonight,” Changbin whispers as he turns his head towards yours. You glance over at him, another smile crawling onto your lips.

“Maybe Carina too?” You suggest.

“I don’t know. It’s best seen in March, so we may be out of luck.” Changbin presses his nose against your cheek, exhaling warm breath across your skin. You lean into the touch and revel in the warmth he provides. Goosebumps are still running rampant across your arms, and Changbin seems to notice that because he props himself up on his elbows. “Do you want my hoodie?” He asks, motioning towards the clothing across his chest currently.

“No, keep it, baby. I’m alright. I’ve got the blanket.” You tug the fleece towards you some, and Changbin doesn’t protest your movements. “How much longer do we have?”

Changbin glances down at his wristwatch and checks the time before turning back to you. “Two more hours maybe. Then we’ll get collected.”

“Don’t call it being collected. That’s weird.” You scrunch your nose up. Changbin takes the opportunity to duck in and press a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. He laughs at your disgruntled expression that follows, then goes in for another cheeky kiss. His lips trail down your cheek, following the line of your jaw, and make a wet path down your neck. The trail of saliva leaves you cold as another breeze hits the two of you. “Oh god, that’s cold, Binnie.”

“I’ll warm you up, don’t worry.”

“Ew!” He pulls back from your neck, staring at you in disbelief, then darts a hand out towards the blanket now over your legs. You swat at his perpetrating hand. “Um, no! My blanket.”

“What? No, I brought the blanket! It’s mine.”

“What’s yours is mine.”

He ignores your protests and attempts to snatch the blanket off you, but you smack his arm again.

“Steal the blanket again, I dare you.”

“Fine, keep the blanket. I’ll be under it with you in no time.”

“Ew!”

“I’m your boyfriend! I can say shit like that.”

“Ew,” you whine again, drawing out the syllable as Changbin continues to work down your skin with his lips. He stops at the juncture of your neck. He drags the flat over his tongue over the sensitive skin there and nips at it once he’s done lavishing you with his tongue. You sigh into the empty air above you, breath fogging in the cold.

Changbin pulls back from your neck only to tug you closer to him. He rolls onto his back, dragging you and the fleece blanket on top of him. The blanket catches on your foot and bundles up between your bodies. Your boyfriend releases a sigh of frustration, tugging at the material until it comes loose.

“You’re so cute when you get annoyed,” you giggle. Changbin huffs in response then tosses the blanket over your body again. For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, eyes filled with love, and you drink in his warmth. Sure enough, as he claimed earlier, here he is under the blanket with you. You aren’t going to tell him he was right though. He doesn’t need the ego boost.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “My own little star.”

“Stop saying cheesy things. I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Okay, yea, nevermind. My own little shit.”

You throw your head back and laugh loudly into the open air. Changbin brings a hand to your hair. His fingers comb over your scalp, soft and gentle motions that bring a chill down your spine. You bend down to press your lips against his. You keep it delicate and barely brush his lips. His eyes flutter shut at the ghosting touch.

It’s a calm moment for the two of you. You don’t even want to move from his chest, content to just lay atop him for as long as possible. The two of you live busy lives, constantly doing something and moving at high speeds just to keep up with life. This is a rare and treasured moment of slowness. Peace. You revel in it while you can.

His lips find yours again, a rougher touch now, and you push back with equal force. His teeth tease your lower lip, nipping and tugging at it, and he drags his tongue over the swollen skin. You moan into the kiss, and he pulls you as close as possible, swallowing your sounds with his touch. He trails his hands down your sides before slipping them under the hem of your shirt and caressing the soft skin there with his warm fingers.

He’s getting a bit excited, and you can feel his bulge pressing against the inside of your thigh. You pull away from his lips to sit up straight atop him, a smile on both of your faces. You drag your palm over his crotch, and he bucks against your hand when you give his clothed member a small squeeze.

“Let’s roll over,” he says, biting back a slight moan. “I need to stretch you a bit first.” You link your arms around his shoulders and let him roll you onto your back. He doesn’t bother to pull the blanket away, instead letting you roll onto it as he brings his hands to the band of your pants. He moves as though you two have all the time in the world, but you really just want him to hurry the fuck up and rail you already.

Deft fingers hook onto your pants and underwear and tug them down in one go. You help him pull the material completely off, and he bunches them up to toss onto the grass.

“Binnie, they’re gonna get covered in dirt and grass!”

“You don’t need them right now,” he mutters in response. You whine as he spreads your legs, exposing your core to the cold air. He drags two fingers over your folds. “Someone’s excited already.” He pushes past the thick strands of arousal and into the heat of your core. You try to keep your moan quiet but Changbin crooks his fingers inside you without warning, and a wanton moan slips out. “You sound so pretty, baby.”

“Hurry up, Binnie. I want you to fuck me.”

“So demanding.” Changbin clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“We both know who’s in charge, love. So hurry up.”

“Yes ma’am.” Changbin laughs under his breath and begins to pump his fingers in and out of your drenched core. As he scissors you open with one hand, his other hand moves for the button of his pants. You sit up on your elbows and watch him struggle for a few moments before swatting his fingers away and popping the button yourself. You yank his pants down, tugging his underwear aside as well, and his leaking member finally hits the cold air. You spit on your palm with no hesitation then envelop his cock with your hand.

“Can you fuck me now?” You ask as you pump his member and spread the saliva over him. He nods frantically, pulling his fingers out of you only to pop them into his mouth and suck your juices off them. Something about the sight is hot, and you watch him clean his fingers of your arousal with a smirk. In one swift movement, he pushes you onto your back and guides his weeping members to your entrance. You tuck your legs around his back and hold him in place as he enters you.

A hiss leaves your lips, his cock stretching you open, and he bottoms out with a small groan. He hangs his head and watches the point where his cock is buried inside you.

“Fuck, you look so pretty all stuffed like this,” he says through gritted teeth. You reach up to grip his hair, tugging his head up to look you in the eye.

“Move before I decide to take control.”

He doesn’t wait for another command, pulling out and snapping his hips back against yours. You moan at the impact. Your fingers linger in his hair, and you pull him down to your lips, You meet in a clash of teeth, small laughs escaping both of you before you kiss properly. With each tug you give to his hair, Changbin releases a small moan and his noises only encourage you to keep doing it. He’s thrusting into you with such intensity that you think your cervix will be bruised tomorrow, but the sensation of his cock dragging against your sweet spot is overpowers that pain.

Changbin brings his hands down on either side of your head. You slip your tongue into his mouth, and his meets yours in a clash for dominance. Your hands slip down to tug at the hair on the nape of his neck, toying with that small mullet of his, and he relents dominance with a low whine.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” he says as he pulls back from your lips. You nod, unable to form an actual coherent thought, and all that comes out of your mouth are moans. You clench around Changbin’s member, the rushing wave of your orgasm prepares to crash over you, and you pull Changbin back in for one more kiss before it hits. You cry out in pleasure, and he eats up the sound with his lips. Hips stutter, and he thrusts into you one more time before he cums in you. His arms give out under him as his orgasm hits. The breath leaves your body when his weight collapses on top of you, then you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him as close as you can.

The two of you bask in the afterglow of your orgasms, clinging to each other like your lives depend on it. Neither of you moves for quite some time. You watch the sky with tired eyes, suddenly exhausted from your intense workout with Changbin.

“Hey… there’s a shooting star,” you mumble as something flashes across the sky. Changbin shifts on top of you and pulls himself up. “Make a wish?” You smile up at him. He laughs at your words then presses a quick kiss to your lips.

“I don’t need to make any wishes when I have you.”

☽ ☾

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northoftheroad · 4 years

Text

Dick Grayson – 80 years of hairstyles

Welcome to my ongoing TED talk about Dick Grayson. This week I’ll be talking about hairstyles. Just because fashion in hairstyles is kind of fun.

The general hairstyle during the 1940s was short on the sides and back, longer on the top. One common variant was to have the top hair section parted on one side and combed over and slightly back to create a wave. (Wavy hair was in fashion in the 1940s.)

Dick did start with hair like that; longer on top and short side and back. In the very first panels, the top hair falls over his forehead. But he has been adventurous enogh to try out different fashions over the years to come.

The original Dick Grayson hairdo – short sides, longer on the top.

Detective Comics # 38. By Bill Finger, Bob Kane and Jerry Robinson (1940).

As Robin. Top hair combed back, curls over the forehead.

When he becomes Robin, the top hair is combed back; a cowlick makes part of the front hair fall in two curls over his forehead.

Detective Comics # 38. By Bill Finger, Bob Kane and Jerry Robinson (1940).

Silver Age/New Look. Parted on the side.

His hairstyle will look the same for more than two decades. With the Silver age/New Look in Batman (1964), Dick’s hair is more likely to be visibly parted on the side, and sometimes a curl will fall down over the forehead.

Detective Comics # 327. By John Broome, art Carmine Infantino and Jie Giella (1964).

Longer fringe.

At some time in the very late 60s/early 70s, Dick grows a longer fringe that falls over the forehead (isn’t it a bit like the style popularized by The Beatles, you think?). This style will pretty much stay with him in the 70s, 80s and into the 90s.

Batman # 209. By Frank Robbins, art Irv Novick and Joe Giella (1969).

Tales of the Teen Titans # 44 (1984). By Marv Wolfmann and George Pérez, inkers Mike DeCarlo and Dick Giordano.

Long hair (mid-90s).

A few years in the 90s, Dick has long hair. Sometimes it was drawn as a mullet (short on front and sides, long at the back), sometimes just long all over; the artists don’t seem to be able to agree. It was Mirage, posing as Kory/Starfire, who cut his hair to this look, over Dick’s mild protest, in New Titans vol 1 # 88 (July 1992).

At times, Dick would have his long hair in a ponytial; funny enough, his hair was always much longer when he had it in a ponytail than when it was loose. It was that way he lost his long hair, in a fight in Nightwing vol 2 # 1 (October, 1996) when a thug cut off the ponytail.

Edit. Brian Stelfreeze, who designed the “fingerstrip look for Dick, wrote in the model sheet: "The "whip" is not all hair but keeps the look streamlined. It also changes Dick's appearance."

New Titans vol 1 # 88. By Marv Wolfman and Lein Wein, art Tom Grummett, Al Vey, Ian Akin and John Statema (1992).

The New Titans vol 1 # 99. By Marv Wolfman, art Tom Grumment and Robert Campanella (1993).

Robin vol 4 # 13. By Chuck Dixon, art John Cleary, Phil Jimenez, Ray Kryssing (1995).

Nightwing vol 1 # 1. By Dennis O’Neil, art Greg Land and Mike Sellers (1995).

Brian Stelfreeze’s model sheet.

Nightwing vol 2 # 1. By Chuck Dixon, art Scott McDaniel and Karl Story. (1996)

Curtains hairstyle/fringe and some variations (1996 to 2018).

After that, Dick went for what I think should be classified as the 90s curtains hairstyle, where the top hair is grown into a fringe that often falls over his forehead or even his eyes, and the hair is parted in the middle. It’s a lot like his original Robin hairstyle, to be honest, but his hair is often a bit longer on the sides than when he was a little Robin.

The following decades, he would mostly often stick to the curtain style, though sometimes the hair is parted on the side and he will look more like he did in the 80s. And in the Grayson comic book, the top hair was combed back, but often a few strands would fall forward.

Nightwing vol 2 # 14. By Chuck Dixon, art Scott McDaniel and Karl Story. (1997)

Nightwing vol 2 # 50. By Chuck Dixon, art Greg Land, Jose Marzan Jr and Drew Geraci. (December, 2000)

The Titans # 36. By Jay Faerber and Barry Kitson, art Rich Faber (2002).

Batman # 688. By Judd Winick, art Mark Bagley and Rob Hunter (2009).

Grayson # 15. By Tom King and Tim Seeley, art Mikel Janín. (2016)

Nightwing vol 4 # 10. By Tim Seeley, art Marcus To. (2017)

Batman vol 3 # 55. By Tom King, art Tony S Daniel and Danny Miki.(November, 2018)

Dick as a blonde – more likely than you think

Dick was supposed to be a blonde with a new secret identity, post his death in Forever Evil. Batman Eternal artist Jason Fabok made a Thanksgiving picture with a blonde Dick included (sitting behind Batman).

However, plans change, and Dick kept his hair black in Grayson. According to the writer James Tynion IV on Twitter, “it mostly got dialed down to him removing a blonde wig on a case in the opening pages of Grayson #1″.

Grayson # 1. Written by Tim Seeley, art Mikel Janín.

Dick did, however, occasionally use a blonde wig in the New Teen Titans years, as a disguise.

New Teen Titans vol 1 # 40. By Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, inker Romeo Tanghal.

Recently shot in the head; buzz cut.

... And then came that unfortunate event when Dick was shot in the head on September 2019 (which had everyting to do with the story in the Batman title and nothing to do with telling good Nightwing stories). He came out of that with a buzz cut, short all over. Since then, his hairdo has gone through a few variations on short hair, including longer on the top but shaved on the sides. Incidentally, the shaved sides hairstyle for men was in vogue in 2019, so Dick continues to keep up with the fashion trends.

Nightwing v 4 # 50. By Benjamin Percy, art Travis Moore. (December, 2018)

Slightly later after being shot in the head; hair starting to grow out a bit.

Nightwing vol 4 # 57. By Zack Kaplan and Scott Lobdell, art Travis Moore.

Even later after being shot in the head; shaved sides.

Nightwing vol 4 # 63. By Dan Jurgens, art Ronan Cliquet.

And a little bit later again – his hair is a little bit longer.

Nightwing vol 4 # 69. By Dan Jurgens, art Ronan Cliquet.

Sometime in the future...

Still, I’m sure we’re all waiting for Dick to become the one and only Nightwing again, and let the hair grow a bit. And actually, we have had several stories where Dick is and looks like his normal self, while the amnesiac story drags out in the current Nightwing and other Bat-titles.

Doomsday Clock # 9. By Geoff Johns, art Gary Frank (May, 2019.)

Concrete Jungle. By Mark Russel, art Ryan Benjamin and Richard Friend. Batman: Gotham Nights. # 5. (May, 2020).

#Dick Grayson #Richard Grayson #nightwing #robin #batman

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 4 years

Text

Stone cold- B. Hargrove

Contemplating a pt.2. Let me know if y’all want a second one!! Hope you like it!

For the lovely @winter-captain-01!!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Y/N was rough.

She was the type of girl to punch a guy in the face if he dared touch her ass without her permission.

She was the type of girl to give as good as she gets, against both men and women.

She was dangerous, she was intimidating, and she did it all with her staple black heels on her small feet.

Yet still, Billy couldn’t get enough of the girl who challenged him every step of the way.

Their first meeting sent his heart rate skyrocketing along with his anger levels.

She had parked her Canary Yellow ‘57 Chevy Bel Air a tad too close to his Camaro and without looking he flicked his half done cigarette right on to the hood of her car.

She saw red when she saw him do so.

Naturally, she picked the cigarette up, ensuring it was no longer burning before proceeding to crumble it into his perfectly combed mullet.

He felt the crumbles hit his scalp, still slightly warm from being lit and he turned to thump whoever had the audacity to try something smart with him. Until his eyes fell on the girl.

The first thing he noticed was the height difference. He concluded that the only reason she was able to stretch her arms high enough to reach above his head was on account of the high stilettos her feet were resting in.

“Who the fuck do you think you-“

“Listen here, asswipe,” she snarled at him, stepping a fraction of an inch closer to appear more threatening. Despite the further incline the action placed on her neck. “That ‘Bitch’ crown on your head isn’t too heavy for me to knock off, so flick a dart at my car again, and it’ll go flying.”

Billy smirked at her, rolling his tongue along his teeth in a way he knew captured many girls in the past.

Not this one.

Y/N turned on her heels, sauntering back to her car.

Billy shamelessly watched her behind and her legs as she walked, mind racing with all of the ways he was going to get her to fall to her knees for him.

She turned her head as she opened the door, noticing his gaze. She whistled loudly, snapping his attention from her ass to her face, where he was met with the sight of her middle finger.

Billy practically groaned at the sound of her Chevy starting up, and speeding out of the school parking lot.

What he didn’t notice was the same car stop at the middle school where his sister went to retrieve a certain curly haired boy.

And his friends.

She leaned her head out of the window, eyeing the group.

“Turd burgers!” They all peaked their head up at the sound of her voice, knowing it well. “Asses in seats, feet better be clean.”

She leaned inside, pulling a stick of gum from

The center console and popping it into her mouth as she watched the four boys wave goodbye to a girl.

They climbed in and she remained, skateboard in hand and a frustrated expression on her face.

“Whose that, Dust?”

“That’s our friend, Max,” he announced.

“She’s awesome! Total badass,” Mike continued, stating her name at the same time as his friend.

She looked at her little brother before turning back to the girl whose hair was as fiery as as a sunset.

Y/N eyed her with concern before whistling to her the same way she whistled at the asshole who threw the cancer stick on her car.

She gestured her head to walk closer and the girl obliged, a weary look plastered on her freckled face.

Y/N definitely didn’t miss the way her little brothers face brightened when Max walked near.

Nor did she miss the same expression on Lucas’ face.

“You alright, kiddo? You need a ride?” Max turned to see that most of the kids had piled into their own parents’ cars, or the bus.

The girl huffed, standing on her toes to peak over the car towards the high school.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. My asshole brother should be here soon. He’s meant to pick me up.”

Y/N fixed her with a look, frowning.

She was tough with people her own age and older, but she had a soft spot for kids.

“Okay, but if you need a ride home any day, let me know.” Max nodded softly, a small smile on her face. “Lord knows I need another female around with these dorks.”

She earned a smack to her shoulder from her little brother as payment, and a chorus of offended exclamations from the boys in the back.

“Catcha, kiddo,” Y/N winked at the girl, not leaving until she waved back and stepped away from the curb.

When she did, the Chevy was pulled away from the curb and sped away.

The next day she left the school with intentions of dropping her (basically adopted) kids at the arcade while she makes a beeline first the record shop.

Her and Dustin were in need of some new albums, and she wanted to find something for her mum.

What she didn’t expect was to run into a certain curly haired asshole in the rock section.

“Well,” she heard from behind her, far too close to her ear. “If I had have known you’d be here, I would have dressed nicer.” Y/N turned to meet Billy Hargrove, standing way too close to her with a smirk plastered on his face. “Or I would have dressed down. Whatever you please, princess.”

She rolled her eyes at the wink he sent her, turning around.

“Call me that again, Hargrove, and I’ll shove your mullet down your throat.”

“Then what should I call you? You haven’t told me your name,” his smirk was still in full force, as well as the pinch in his brow. He didn’t like when people were rude to him, but he felt the challenge in the girl, and it was drawing him in.

“Y/N.” She huffed, “I would love to stay and chat but, I actually wouldn’t.”

She want to walk away, only to be stopped by a hand on her wrist.

“Well, Y/N,” he loved the way her name sounded on his tongue. “How about you and I catch up soon? Spend a little time together?”

She scoffed, laughing obnoxiously and pulling her wrist from his grip. Thankfully, she had already paid for her vinyls and was free to leave.

“Call me when you get an attitude adjustment, asswipe.”

She quickly hustled back to the arcade, as fast as her heels would allow and found comfort with the fiery headed girl.

“They’re still trying to beat your high score, huh?” Y/N chirped, tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

Max made a sound of acknowledgement, watching them with tired eyes.

“Gets a bit boring when you’ve got the high score on the decent games,” her smirk was proud, and awfully familiar in manner to Y/N, but she chose to ignore it.

“Here,” Y/N nudged the shoulder of the girl, “come have a look at the records I bought.”

Max’ eyes lit up. She loved the arcade, but she simply wanted to be at home.

The desire in its own was unnatural to her, as she despised being around Neil, but she was worried about her mum. And her step-brother.

The night before was rough. Billy had gotten into it with Neil because their ‘father’ had put his hands on Max’ mum.

Billy didn’t like that one bit and stood up for the woman, only to earn a visit from Neil’s belt.

Y/N let the boys know they would be outside, before leading the girl to her car.

They sat for who knows how long talking, and Max quickly grew to admire the older girl.

Y/N was halfway through a story detailing the time her and Dustin had a three-hour-long marathon of some dancing arcade game she couldn’t remember the name of, when a blue Camaro pulled up.

Both girls ignored the sound of the engine, as Y/N continued her wholesome story.

By the end of it, she was so tired that her little brother (who was half the dancer she was) ended up whooping her ass.

The only thing that caught their attention was the sound of a husky voice that had Y/N groaning in frustration.

“Well, well, well,” Billy said. “If it isn’t the stone cold broad herself.”

“I feel like every time you open your mouth, something else boring comes out,” Y/N whispered, throwing her head back to the sky.

“Keep telling yourself that, honey.” Billy maneuvered around Y/N, heading to stand next to Max. “You ready, shithead? Neil gets home soon, so we need to be back.”

“Yeah, sure,” Max answered after a minute. Her eyes were downcast in fear, and Y/N found herself wondering if she was afraid of the man standing next to her.

The realization clicked in her head. “Oh! He’s your brother?” Her tone started off high, lowering as she got to the end of her sentence while her face shifted into a frown.

“Step-brother,” Max and Billy said at the same time.

Y/N nodded, looking up from her position seated on the hood of her car, as she saw the door to the arcade open.

She shouted loudly towards the opening, catching the attention of the four boys to signal their leave.

“Alright, Maxie, gotta give you something before you go,” Y/N stood before reaching into her car, bent over the window. She could feel the way Billy gazed at her backside. She handed the girl a piece of paper with a number scribbled on the side. “That’s my number. You need anything, or a lift to school just give me a ring.”

Max fixed her with a small smile. A grateful one that shone through her eyes.

“Where’s my number?” Billy winked at her.

“Stare at my ass again and you won’t have fingers left to dial anybody,” Y/N halted her words to look the man up and down. She couldn’t deny that she liked what she saw, but she refused to allow her mind to wander. “Or to flog your log, asswipe.”

“Ooh, feisty. You get more attractive as the days pass,” Billy winked, turning around and nudging his sister again. “In the car, shithead.”

The boys piled into her car, and she sped off as soon as they were all clear of the road.

She was flustered from Billy’s words, and annoyed at the mullet headed man.

Days passed, random calls from Max, and requests for a lift to school when Billy was unavailable.

Y/N didn’t know what was meant by the term, but whenever he was unavailable, he was also absent from school.

She hated herself for caring what happened to the boy, but she found herself developing an attraction to him.

According to Max, her obnoxious step-brother had developed quite the infatuation with the older Henderson.

Despite this, Y/N was still shocked to great extents when her home phone blared to life at 3AM one Saturday morning, and Y/N answered in a bleary state to her soft sobbing on the other end.

“Y/N?” She heard a masculine voice that she instantly recognized to be Billy. Her heart race picked up. “You busy?”

#billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove #stranger things #dacre montgomery

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gripefroot · 3 years

Text

Feel So Yellow [8/12]

Lock after lock of dark brown hair falls to the kitchen floor. Apart from the faintly audible thump-thumps of Chestnut’s tail beating against the back porch as she snoozes in the morning sun, it’s utterly quiet - Snookie sits on the window ledge above the sink, perhaps keeping tabs on Chestnut, and Bucky’s knee jiggles beneath the draped sheet over his shoulders where he sits on a folding chair.

“Nervous?” you ask, weirdly loud as you slick up the next chunk of hair with the comb to trim, snip-snip with the scissors.

“No.”

“What if I give you a mullet?”

“It’ll grow out.”

“That’s optimistic.”

“I have to be, or else I wouldn’t be letting you do this.” A dry tone, but the joking in it is clear enough, and you laugh a little as more hair falls to the floor by your bare feet.

“And here I thought you trusted me,” you tease him back.

“I do,” Bucky objects, and biting your lip, you brush some clipped hair from the back of his neck. Better. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“This is my hair.”

“It’ll grow back,” you parrot him, and finally he relents with a harsh chuckle. Combing back the next chunk of hair, you snip that, too, and the pile on the floor is building. “So, you are nervous.”

“No.” He pauses. “Yes.”

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“Listen,” Bucky blurts. “I’m sorry about the way I left yesterday.”

“You don’t have to be,” you tell him, a little startled at this sudden change of topic - but you don’t falter shaking out the shorn chunks of hair from the wet strands.

“But I am.”

“Then I accept your apology. We don’t have to discuss it again.”

“I want to,” he says.

That’s even more startling. Too used to issues being swept under the rug in favor of false security - or maybe it’s just the memories of another man gurgling to the surface while cutting hair - you don’t respond right away. Instead, a moment to think, and then a carefully worded, “We can, but don’t feel like you have to on my account.”

“No, I need to for me,” Bucky tells you, and after a deep breath, his voice rises richly to a more confident tone. “I just - I got a little emotional seeing that stuff. Reminded me of those days, you know? I used to watch soldiers write those letters. Get those letters. I never did, ‘cuz I didn’t have a girl back home, but I got to see the other side. I saw men die with photos of their sweethearts in their pockets. This just brought it back. I’ve never seen the scars that left on the womenfolk back home. That was all over by the time I - I was free.”

Unsure of what to say to that, you twist the hair above his ears to test whether it’s the same length on both sides. After a moment you move to his left to trim that section slightly, and you see his blue eyes slanted towards you, though his head doesn’t move.

“That would make anyone emotional,” you say. “I wasn’t upset by it or anything, if that’s worrying you. I am sorry for how you feel, though.”

“No point in being sorry,” Bucky says, more roughly now. “Doesn’t change anything.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“It made me lonely, too,” he goes on. “I never got a gushing letter. Made me feel left out back then, and upstairs was just a reminder that I’m still alone.”

“Well, you do live in the sticks with only a dog for company,” you remind him with a smile, and he snorts.

“Chestnut would’ve written to me,” Bucky declares.

“Oh, I’m certain of it,” you say gravely, playing along. “Told you all about the squirrels she chased and that mean old cat next door. And signed with x’s for her sloppy kisses.”

He laughs. Stepping back, you wrinkle your nose as your experienced eyes rove over his hair - it looks even, it feels even, and dare you say - it looks pretty good. Not as good as the longer hair, maybe, but the shorter cut is reminiscent of the soldier of days past. Like the photograph of Paul Conners upstairs - a man of another day and another age. Out of place, and yet also...belonging.

“Thank you,” Bucky says suddenly - he’s watching you. Tucked beneath that sheet there’s something decidedly boyish about him, and it makes you smile.

“Well, I don’t have a hand mirror so you’ll have to go to the bathroom to see if you like it - ”

“No, I mean - thank you for being my friend.”

“It would make our lives as neighbors much less pleasant if we were mortal enemies,” you say, using the joke to step over the delicately affectionate moment.

“Listen,” Bucky’s eyebrows furrow. “If you want me off your land you just have to say so - ”

“I don’t! Sheesh - go check yourself out and let me know if you want me to change anything.”

Narrowed blue eyes, but Bucky does as you say - stands beneath the sheet and tip-toeing carefully to the bathroom down the hall. In the meantime you busy yourself sweeping up the shorn hair into a dustpan to throw away, the garbage lid shutting loudly as Bucky returns.

“It’s good,” he says, an odd note in his voice. “I approve.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Itches like crazy though. Mind if I run home to take a shower and change my clothes?”

“I’ll forgive you somehow.”

“Good. That’s all I ask.” Shrugging off the sheet, Bucky carefully folds it over, holding it out - with a smile you accept it, broom resting against your shoulder, and something - something, something - jolts with his fingers brush against yours. His gaze drops awkwardly, and you blink fast.

That evening is spent priming the walls which will be painted - some await wallpaper, which will be done later - and with the night breeze floating in through open windows, the job goes fast. Harmony has certainly been found in working together all these weeks, and weaving around Bucky and him weaving around you and passing rollers and rags and the paint tray just seems so natural.

“You know what I’m not looking forward to?” you tell him, crouching down to paint along the blue-taped trim. “All the woodwork.”

“There sure is a lot in this house,” Bucky comments. Rolling primer up and down the wall in long, graceful strokes. “Most of it seems to be in good shape. It’ll just need some buff and polish.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m dreading.” A quick, peeked smile, and he lifts his eyebrows down at you before resuming his priming.

“It won’t be so bad.”

“Sounds like you like to breathe in sawdust.”

“Oh, for sure,” he agrees. “Keeps me immune to all sorts of tree diseases.”

“You’re barking mad.”

A pause - the roller stops, and you can’t help peering up to see Bucky, paint-stained and scowling, as he shakes his head. “That was terrible. Terrible.”

“It’s okay, you can laugh.”

“I will not,” he growls, but there’s humor in his voice, and you count it a victory.

The week flies by. Between the few hours of work you put in, painting, eating meals with Bucky out on the front porch (the weather has been perfect), and evenings spent watching the stars before falling into bed with exhaustion - there’s little time to untangle the mess in your heart. But maybe it’s better that way, you tell yourself over and over again, and hopefully one day it might even be believable.

Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, Snookie hasn’t warmed up to Chestnut - but as Snookie remains indoors and Chestnut prefers to be outdoors, infractions have been few and far between. But when an afternoon thunderstorm rolls in, Chestnut whines at the door and you let her in, despite Bucky’s assurance that she’d be fine out on the porch.

“Of course she’d be fine,” you tell him, closing the porch door as Chestnut pads through the house, sniffing at corners and doorways. “But I wouldn’t be. I’d feel terrible.”

“That’s on you, then,” Bucky grins, and heads back upstairs.

A swoosh and pour from the 5-gallon bucket of primer into the tray - your arms are aching, but you’d rather have achy arms than be doing anything else, you think, and the fresh smell is just so pleasant. More pleasant than the old musty stink that seems less and less every passing day.

“I think this bedroom will be pink,” you think aloud, and dip your roller into the tray. Downstairs, you hear Chestnut bark once, barely audible over the rain pattering against the window. Snookie must be down there.

“Pink,” Bucky repeats. “Um…”

“Trust me.”

“You say that a lot,” he says with a wry smile. “I wonder what that means.”

“Probably that you are incredibly mistrustful of me despite my proving my own amazing talent, superb taste, and matchless skills every day.”

More barking - Bucky’s eyes glance towards the open door, and then he shakes his head and dips his roller again. “Is that what you tell yourself in the mirror every morning?” he asks with a lifted brow.

“I don’t need to. I’m basically faultless.”

“And so humble.”

A quip is on the tip of your tongue, stepping over the paint tray - but the barking crescendos as the identifiable noise of nails on wood comes loud up the wooden stairs, and a sudden yowl heralds Snookie’s sudden entrance into the room as a black streak.

“Snookie!” you cry aloud, surprise making your steps falter, and you nearly trip over the tray. A splash coats your sneakers. Then a golden blur - circling the room as the cat hisses - and Chestnut’s barks echo loudly in the empty room.

“Chestnut!” Bucky shouts, dropping his roller onto the painting cloth. “Ouch! Shoot!”

He’d stepped on Snookie’s fast-moving tail. In brisk retaliation her claws dig into his jeans for a half-second before Chestnut, sensing her prey, closes in - Snookie releases Bucky and darts out the door, but it’s too late for Chestnut. Too intent on the cat, she steps right into the paint tray - white primer soaks up her legs as she stumbles in confusion, paw prints littering the drop cloth as she steps awkwardly around.

“No! Stop moving, girl!” Bucky says frantically, but already Chestnut has fumbled off the drop cloth and onto the hardwood floors. Horrified (that’s going to be a pain to clean), you cringe as Bucky scoops up the dog around the middle with one strong arm, fairly certain that the growl beneath his breath had been, “Dumb dog!”

Snookie has won - or at least thinks that she has, for at the doorway she sits primly, tail whipping in the air - but that sight seems to infuriate Chestnut all the more, and she squirms right out of Bucky’s arm to run out the door. A trail of white paw prints wrenches your gut as you listen to the descent down the stairs and Snookie’s distant hissing.

“Ugh,” Bucky says, frowning at the streak of white all the way up his flesh arm. “I told you she should’ve stayed outside - ”

“I didn’t expect it this,” you say testily, and step forward to start picking up the scattered supplies - but a hidden puddle of primer beneath the dropcloth slips with a squeak and a shriek and you land on your behind, elbow knocking painfully against the floor. “Ouch!”

“Told you - ” Bucky starts again, but he’s grinning now, reaching over to help you to stand - but Chestnut had dripped primer all around him - his shoe squelches and slips. Pitching forward, he catches himself somewhat successfully, one hand landing right into the wet primer with a splat!

“Oh, no,” you lament, and start to laugh at the baffled expression on his face as he lifts out his dripping hand. Primer is smearing all over the floor in pale swooshes. The misery that that job will be makes your laughter all the more hysterical, and frustrated tears begin to seep from your eyes.

“Next time let’s close the door and lock it,” Bucky says. Somehow he’s still smiling, and scoots forward on his knee, holding out his dry, metal hand for you to take. One pull has you sitting upright, ruefully rubbing your elbow as you sniff back more tears. Another watery laugh, and concern deepens the crease between his eyebrows. “You okay?” he asks warily.

“This is going to be horrible to clean,” you say, and wipe your cheeks with your forearm - but by the wet smear you feel against your skin and Bucky’s sudden cringe, you know that you’ve just decorated yourself with primer.

“It’ll be fine,” he says reassuringly. And forcing a smile, his metal thumb reaches up to wipe at that primer on your salty cheek - a shiver races down your spine faster than Chestnut chasing Snookie. Something is smoldering deep in his blue eyes, so close to yours - but rather than flinch away, you blink, and watch - watch it spark, watch it flame, watch it burn -

When he kisses you a half-second later, it’s not a surprise.

Bucky’s lips are warm. Obscenely warm, you think dimly, and kiss him back. It seems the most natural thing in the world to be kissing this man at this time and at this place - never mind the mess, never mind the consequences. Never mind that he’s your neighbor and your tenant and you’d sworn off dating - this is just...it’s right. It’s right in the fluttering of your heart, in the sensation of his paint-streaked arm beneath your clammy palm, in his musky breath between your parted lips.

He pulls away what feels like an hour later - his lips are redder, his eyes brighter, and his smile broader. “Up we go,” he says, slightly hoarse, and before you can draw a shaky breath his arm has snaked around your waist, lifting you up into the air to settle securely on your feet.

Your hands have landed on his chest, and he doesn’t let you go. Blinking several times, gnawing your now-tender lips - you stare up at him, wondering if he’s as baffled as you are - and as you watch, that fire in his eyes peters and dims. He blinks, too.

“Um,” you say. “That - ”

Bucky’s arm drops from your waist. Now you can breathe again.

“That probably shouldn’t happen again,” you tell him, and immediately wish you hadn’t.

“Oh,” he frowns. “Okay, then.”

Never mind, let’s do it again right now!, you want to say. But he backs up a step with an offhand shrug.

“We’d better clean up before the primer dries,” Bucky says - his voice is back to normal now, though he doesn’t look at you as he bends over to pick up a few supplies to toss onto the drop cloth.

“Right,” you say, and then shake yourself. “Right, of course. I hate to see what the damage is downstairs.”

“I think I have some paint stripper in my garage if we need it.”

“It’s going to be a fantastic Friday night,” you say by way of a joke, and receive a courteous laugh for it. Nowhere else I’d rather be, you think to yourself, but with that unexpected kiss your tongue is suddenly tied in front of Bucky, and the easy intimacy found in this unlikeliest of places seems suddenly out of reach.

continue

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #marvel #fatws #mcu #bucky barnes fanfiction

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what-the-floofin · 5 years

Photo

Deal’s a deal I guess.

(me: *trips. words spill from my pockets. There’s 2127 of them*)

Lance had dealt long enough with living around that damn coat, his every attempt to have Keith just let him fix it turned down time and time again. Once he even managed to make the offer with no weirdness, no fumbling, no antagonising bites about it at all. Total stallion to stallion. Heart to heart. Or… something. It was damn cool, anyway.

(He’d deny having practiced a dozen times to the audience of his own reflection.)

Yet still Keith refused.

(And Lance did not sulk about it. Absolutely not.)

But he figured it out, after weeks of peripheral listening and observation and sheer determination to see it through. Keith wouldn’t accept reasons of ‘just because’ – not even from Shiro – but he would accept trades. So, Lance targeted the easiest one he could think of and caught Keith down one of many endless halls.

He’d spar with him for a full session – no complaints! – and in turn Keith would let him put a brush to his sides. Also with no complaints, though that part had been more or less implied since Lance was abiding by a strict no-button-pushing rule at the time.

Keith had pulled an odd face as he considered the proposal - finally mumbling something like an agreement after the longest, most agonising minute Lance ever had to wait in his life - and all while refusing to look any higher than Lance’s chin.

Lance only cared about that fact that he accepted and bolted at once to collect his things.

By the time they were making languid cool-down laps of the training deck, their sides lathered and legs shaking in the result of their sparring efforts, the giddiness of anticipation began to rise beyond the threshold of his control. It skipped his pace and littered his strides with prancing steps, kicking up waves of delight that manifested in half-restrained grins and more than once caused Keith to scowl obvious queries of why.

The instant they turned in towards the platform of the spectator stands, the single level they’d raised decked out with a box of water pouches and their discarded articles, Lance raced to his little bag and snatched it from atop his folded jacket, turning on a dime towards Keith and barely able to contain his eagerness to begin.

He was dismayed to find Keith had instead busied himself in removing the red binds from his legs, pointedly keeping his back to him and thin tail swishing quietly. Right, right, of course they wouldn’t jump straight into transition. That’s cool. At least Keith hadn’t just beelined for the exit. And they were still a little sweaty anyway, the wait would do them good.

Setting the pack on the floor Lance opted to follow suit. For it was, damn him, a good idea.

He thought himself incredibly patient as he watched Keith from the corner of his eye, strategically busying himself in removing his own blue wraps and guard pads to roll up the set, all while trying not to spend every other second tracking Keith’s languid progress. Lance found it impossible to match him he moved that slow, and yet Keith didn’t really seem to care much for winding the lengths of bind properly at all. Each looked more wadded up than decently coiled, and were dropped in a messy pile atop the half open duffel bag rather than in it. Which, if he was deliberately stalling, wasn’t what Lance expected.

Finally, Keith heaved a short sigh and tossed the last one amongst the rest, empty hands now tugging the hem of his shirt as he shifted weight across his legs, flexing them out one by one. He dallied a moment longer to take a water pouch, fiddling the straw between his fingers as his tongue flicked to wet his lips.

He was officially out of things to do. He had to be.

“Okay, fine. Get on with it,” Keith conceded, ducking at his own voice.

Lance dropped the wrap he’d wound up twice already and zipped beside Keith in a heartbeat, impatiently pacing on the spot when the mullet-head veered sideways in surprise.

“It’s about time this got handled! You’re in the hands of a professional now.” Lance beamed, immediately latching onto the fur of those scruffy withers as if he could possibly pull Keith back towards him.

“Uh… okay?”

Keith didn’t sound convinced but boy was Lance gonna prove it.

He sized up the full scope of his task, finger combing through pale hairs and flipping a hand over to find it covered in a fine dust, quickly concluding Keith had likely not seen proper care in yonks. Which was gross. And mildly horrifying. Jiminy crickets just the thought of letting himself get like that put a shiver down Lance’s spine.

He really, really wanted to tackle the remains of that old winter coat first now that he got a good look at it, for it was the clear culprit to all of his suffering. It just made the guy look so damn unkempt!

That is, until he realised the shaggy patches along his top line were as sleek and summer-fine as the rest. It certainly didn’t tuft and pull away when he clamped onto the strands and determinedly dragged them through. Lance had seen this coat uniformly short before – back in their Garrison days – so he was certain this was something new and it raised a whole plethora of questions that simplified to what the bloody hell. He stopped pulling when sturdy muscle flickered irritation beneath his attention. Keith gave a terse little grunt, turning just enough to glare from the corner of his eye.

“Pinching wasn’t the deal.”

“Hydration test,” Lance covered smoothly, straightening as he set both hands against the small cape of weirdly shaggy coat with a quick yes-all-good-here pat.

Keith just looked outright puzzled then, swerving his softly knitted frown from the water pouch in hand and back again.

“But I’m drinking. Right now.”

Shit, he was. Uh.

“Yeah- but uh, maybe it wouldn’t be enough! Those capri-suns are ridiculously tiny. Sheesh, whatever, okay, stay still.” Hands still braced over Keith’s spine Lance backpedalled the short step to reach his small pack. He hooked it with a back hoof, dragging it forward with enough force to flick it up and keep the strap over his foot. Despite the pendulum swinging it stayed put, allowing Lance the smug satisfaction of success as he twisted to meet his outstretched leg. Cradling the bag in the crook of his arm he dug through its contents, setting at least three different brushes atop the width of golden hindquarters before letting it thud back by his feet and pushing it aside. He cracked his knuckles and plucked up the round comb first.

The desire to chatter was a consistent tremble on his tongue as he worked the quick tight circles, but he wanted to play this cautiously. Safe-like. It had taken long enough to even get to this stage, and Keith… like, hated talk. And if he really hated it, he’d probably leave, deal or no deal, no hesitation about it. They agreed to grooming, nothing more nothing less. So! Lance was fully capable of not talking. Absolutely. For sure. Wouldn’t say a word. Easy peasy.

Instead he worked studiously to raise every bit of loose hair out of the light coat until Keith looked like a fuzzy dust bunny from withers to tail, every inch of fur rumpled up in every conceivable direction. The sheer volume he dislodged was appalling, really. Stars, how could the guy not be itching out of his skin running around like this.

Well, at least Keith wasn’t too much of a squirmer. He was tense and kind of twitchy, rocking away from the occasional sweep (ticklish, maybe?) and only once reflexively tail whipping him in the face, but otherwise Keith remained in reach. By comparison, trying to get this much work done with his niece and nephew was a riot. Lance missed this though, achingly so, for it had been such an integral part to his family routine. A deep-chested sigh suddenly rumbled beneath his hands and Keith shifted just enough to drop a third empty water pouch atop the raised seating. Third. Had that much time gone by in dead silence?

Surprisingly, Lance hadn’t found it all that unsettling. Huh.

He took up the broader brush then, running his palm against the stiff bristles and humming his satisfaction before setting into round two. He spent his time mulling over the relative silence, curious of the weird taste it carried and his uncertainty in what to make of it, and fastidiously focused on sentencing every discarded strand to flutter to the floor or tangle in the brush, every long sweep carefully following the grain. Glancing down as he crossed his hooves and side-stepped away from one very (and proudly, he could say) tidy looking shoulder, he could’ve smirked at the pale cloud collecting around the mullet-head’s feet.

It wasn’t until he’d worked down half the count of Keith’s ribs – still too prominent, did he even eat – that Lance noticed, and could only wonder when it changed. Keith had settled back, hip tilted and hind leg loosely bent, resting the tip of his hoof on the ground. Lance followed the dark line of his back then, careful to maintain all nonchalance as he noted how Keith’s forelegs compensated and his upper shoulders had taken on the gentle slope of a dozing lean.

Lance couldn’t see his face, but he was pretty sure Keith wasn’t looking anywhere but the back of his eyelids.

It filled him with a warmth that began in his belly and rapidly swelled up in his chest.

Hell yeah, he was great at pampering, and if he could get Keith of all people to relax like this then clearly he was a pamper god. It was all the proof Lance needed.

The feeling followed him the rest of the way through, chasing his palms and tingling in his wrists through every flick until Keith was – successfully and completely – brushed down. Truly, a marvel of his efforts. Lance was particularly proud of the delicate shine he managed to buff into the sandy gold, and could only imagine how much more it might show with a proper conditioned scrub.

He didn’t want to finish though. Not quite yet. So, sizing up his chances… he started over, running the soft brush in continuous gentle sweeps, too aware that any one of them could stir Keith and break the airy spell settled over them. Now and then Keith’s head drooped, the dark curls still drawn back in a ponytail bobbing on the return.

Lance saw the eventual dip too far that woke him – running a tiny jolt down the lean back that finished in an abrupt flick of tail – and guiltily whipped his hands away from their prolonged attentions. He stepped back as Keith twisted to study his work with a long, unreadable silence.

“Huh.”

That was it? Huh? Lance’s scowl vanished the moment Keith turned to him though, the smile on that face small and meagre but more than something fleeting. Lance found himself mirroring it right back in a heartbeat, staring as Keith finally moved off to pull on his jacket, and watching still while he fixed both cuffs and tugged the collar straight.

“Um, thanks.” Keith added, rushed and clumsy as if he’d just clicked to what Lance was waiting for. Lance huffed his amusement, hurrying at once to pack his things and stuff both arms into his own jacket, intending a quick exit himself now he’d gotten all he wanted. He didn’t put it past the mullet to suddenly decide locking him in here would be adequate payback.

Yet Keith remained a statue in his peripheral, duffel bag clutched in hand but held low between his forelegs. He swayed only once as if undecided in his departure.

“You should talk next time.”

“Next time?” Lance swung around, a bold smirk covering the simultaneous surprise and excitement of the prospect. He had expected a lot more than that to get here again.

Keith flushed at once, visibly scrambling.

“I mean, if that’s okay? After tr- the same deal. If you want- because you don’t uh… have.. to.” He scrunched his face and almost hid behind a hand, fingers curling against the air as he paused just long enough to suck down a breath and let it go again.

“Ugh,” he continued elegantly, hand dropping with a thwap against his side, “what I’m saying is- this was nice. But you should talk. It’s weird when you just… don’t.”

Lance was positively beaming, even brighter than the solar flare they once passed near Sh'gal.

“Sure. Next time.”

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