#howlin' for you drabbles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohbo-ohno · 6 months

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Hi, I love your writing so so so so so much and it's like my goal in life to get as good as writing as you, but I was just wanting to ask if you would write a ghoap puppy play drabble but with a ftm reader, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable but I actually can't find any puppy play stuff with a ftm reader in it and I would literally worship the ground you walk on if you did (if you don't feel comfortable doing this please don't)

yknow i dont take requests but you're actually the sweetest person alive (and i want to write puppy play rn) so sure!!! tysm for such kind words <3 (also your goal should be to get 10x better than me but i love you anyway)

1.8k of ghoap x ftm!reader with puppy play :) words used for reader's genitalia are cunt, hole, and cock (also reader is called pretty once)

It's a struggle not to beg, but you're a good boy. You stay still on your knees, paws resting on the wood below you, and you focus all of your attention on staying good.

Johnny's not good. Johnny's never a good boy, and usually that's a blessing for you, but right now it's a curse.

A whine slips from your lips, unintentional but loud. You lick your lips, swallow, and try to settle. Still, you've drawn Ghost's attention.

His hand stills in the air and he cocks an eyebrow. "Need somethin', pup?"

You lick your lips beneath the wire muzzle, shake your head. You don't need anything, you only want his hands on you. Simon's the only one who decides what you want.

He lands another smack against Johnny's bared ass, and the other pup wriggles on his lap, eyes screwed up - in pain or pleasure, you can't tell.

"Look'it him," Ghost rumbles, grabbing Johnny by the mohawk and forcing him to look at where you're knelt several feet away. "He's gotta wait for his turn because you can't remember how to be good. That seem fair?" He shakes Johnny's head for him, and you catch him smirk when Johnny whines. "You'd be barkin' and howlin' like I'd fuckin' shot you if your positions were reversed, but he's sitting there, nice and pretty."

You shift on your knees, padded hands tapping the floor in an effort to expel any of your energy. You pant with your mouth wide open, keep your eyes locked on Ghost, trying to ignore the clenching of your hole on nothing but air.

"Poor puppy," Ghost coos, voice edging into that part-affectionate part-condescending tone that makes you drip. "Having to watch me punish Johnny, when you should be getting all my attention. Is not fair, is it?"

That's a trick question, you know it. Anything Simon decides is fair, that's how this works, and you know intuitively that there's no right answer.

You whine, then yip, leaning forward a bit.

He laughs, letting go of Johnny's head and delivering another blow, this one making Johnny wail from behind his own muzzle.

"Little longer, pup," Ghost calls over Johnny's cries, every smack nearly as loud. "Just keep bein' good for me."

You can't help your noises as you watch Johnny's punishment, but you don't move. Your hips rock against the air, but you don't try and push your paws against your cock, don't try and get yourself off without permission.

You're good, you're a good boy. Ghost said so.

You try to keep your breathing even, try to keep yourself away from that cliff-edge of desperation that can get you in trouble, but it's almost impossible with the show you're watching

Johnny's face is red, streaked with tears as he takes his punishment. His thighs and ass are the same shade of red, and the cock hanging between Ghost's spread knees matches too. He's kept hard by the black cock ring at his base, but you know he doesn't need it. His feet kick and push at the couch cushions to no avail, his mitted hands punching and pushing at the arm of the couch.

He's more muted than you, his muzzle a thick leather instead of wire, but you can still hear the way he cries. Johnny's always been loud, and he's not shy about voicing his displeasure.

Eventually, Simon begins to slow his strokes, the sound of his slaps becoming quieter and the time between each one lengthening. Johnny's cries quiet to sniffles, and you shift forward even more, knowing what's coming.

You just barely manage to hold back a whine.

"See?" Ghost rumbles, stroking up and down Johnny's sweat-slick back. "You're alright, hush now. You bring it on yourself, Johnny. Wouldn't need a punishment if you could behave more than five minutes."

His eyes shift up to yours, and you can't bite back the whine this time. Ghost smiles at you as he shifts Johnny from his lap to the floor.

"Nothing like you, huh pup?" He raises a hand, motions you forward, and you're quick to crawl to him. You shove your head into his hand, melting into the scratches through your hair. Soap stays hunched on the floor next to you, head resting on Ghost's knee as he catches your breath.

"Yeah, you're my well-behaved puppy. Nothing like the mutt, hm?" You lean further into his hand, smiling when he chuckles and gives you the pets you desperately want. "My well trained pure-bred, hm? Maybe I should enter you in shows, let everyone see how perfect you are."

Johnny whines from next to you, digging his face further into Ghost's knee. Simon scoffs, but pets him too.

"Nah, couldn't do that with you, mutt. You'd embarrass me just for the punishment." His words are mean but Ghost's tone is soft, and Johnny's eyes nearly roll back in his head at the soft scratches to his scalp. "But you'd be jealous if he got all the attention, wouldn't you?" Ghost sighs, then uses his hands to push the both of you in so your muzzled cheeks are pressed together. "Guess I'll have to keep you all for myself."

Despite your own arousal, it's not too difficult for you to sit and wait while Ghost coaxes Johnny out of his punishment-headspace. It's nice to float in the softness, so rare with the three of you, and you're content with Ghost's hand on your head.

Eventually, he moves away.

"Alright, you want your treat, pup?"

You blink hazy eyes open, shifting to try and follow his hand with a whine. He smiles at you, and grabs you by the nape of the neck to guide you more fully between his legs.

"C'mon, don't you want a reward for bein' a good boy? I think Johnny deserves one too, for takin' his punishment so well."

Soap is quicker to perk up than you, quickly crawling so he's behind you. Realizing what's going on, you sit up more fully on your knees and brace your paws on Ghost's thighs, looking up at him and smiling.

"Pretty thing," he coos. "Don't worry, you'll get to come. Johnny." He snaps, the sound loud right next to your ear. "Go on. Mount him."

Johnny doesn't have the self-control to give you time to adjust, or to go slowly. One minute you're empty and aching, the next you're stuffed to the brim and stretched wide around Johnny's cock.

You both moan, and you feel the leather of his muzzle bump against your naked shoulder. You melt into the space between Ghost's thighs, eye-level with his cock tugged out of his pants as Johnny fucks you without giving you any time to adjust.

You whine loudly, eyes screwing shut at the near painful drag of his cock in and out of your hole. It's good to be filled, satisfying an ache that you've been fighting for what feels like hours, but your body can't help but fight the intrusion, pushing you further up on your knees and making you look up at Ghost for comfort.

He only smirks and pets a hand through your hair as Johnny snarls at your attempt to get away, paws landing on your shoulders and pushing you down into his ruthless thrusts. He snarls at your yelp, wide even behind the muzzle.

"You're alright," Ghost says, hand guiding your head to rest on his inner thighs. "We both know you like it rough, pup, be a good boy and let Johnny give you what you need."

He's right, Ghost is always right, and it doesn't take long for the sharp stretch to turn to pleasure, for the heavy drag of Johnny's cock in and out of you to leave you moaning instead of whining.

You pant with an open mouth, tongue lolling out to rest on your tongue as you try and breathe through the fucking, brain scrambled. Johnny's just as loud behind you, snarls and grunts and moans slipping through the leather as he bullies himself inside of you.

"There ya go, good boy," Ghost rumbles, giving you a solid pat. "Both of you, my two good boys. You're fuckin' him so good, Johnny, giving him such a good treat."

You work your hips against Johnny, pushing back in search for more pleasure, and whine high in your throat when it's still not enough.

"Y'need more, puppy?" Ghost asks, and you nod yes as vigorously as you can with your whole body being rocked in place.

"Here," he grunts as he shifts, moving one leg between your thighs and pressing his boot against your cock. You melt at the sensation, shoving yourself up and grinding against the strings. Your cries are almost deafening as Johnny's thrusts don't falter, the combination of stimulation heavenly.

"Go on, get yourself off. You've earned it."

You don't last long after that. You work your hips against his boot, the texture rough but perfect against your slick and swollen cock, sensitive hole still pounded mercilessly by Johnny. You feel insane with pleasure, eyes rolled back in your head and drool slipping endlessly down your chin as you let yourself drown in in.

You clench hard around Johnny when you finally come, cunt clenching him and milking him for all he's worth. He howls from behind his muzzle, pressing his face along your neck. You know if his mouth was free he'd be marking you, sucking bruises into your skin and covering you in his spit. You almost whine at the lack of it.

But you're far too drenched in your own euphoria to miss anything, really, your only focus on pushing yourself to higher heights of pleasure.

You float down, eventually, but you're immediately thrown into overstimulation as Johnny's pace continues exactly as it was. He continues to pound into your mercilessly, the sound of your slick shameful in the quiet room.

You paw in a panic at Ghost's thighs, looking up at him with wide eyes as you press closer to try and get away from the cock rearranging your insides. He only smirks and presses his boot up, the pressure against your cock so soon after an orgasm absolute torture.

"Let Johnny have his treat now," he scolds lightly, giving you a slight tap to your cheek that has you trying to nuzzle yourself into the crease between his thighs and hip. "Maybe he'll manage to get off, even with that pretty ring on his cock. Let's let him try, hm?"

You look up at him with vision blurred by tears, whining as you balance the sharp edge of pleasure-pain from Johnny's minstrations.

Ghost only smirks, petting you again. "Hang tight, pup. Be a good boy for me, let our other boy have his fun."

You whine, and bury your face next to his cock, trying to breathe evenly as Johnny only drives himself more and more insane inside your cunt.

#i really don't mind writing male reader stuff it's just not my default with cod for some reason #but i never imagine myself as my reader-inserts so it doesn't change much for me lol #asks and answers #ghoap x reader #ghoap x male reader #male reader #bo writes

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doumadono · 6 months

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Hey, been followin' you for a minute now, but I gotta keep it low-key, you know? Shyness and all 🙃 Anyway, I'm about to hit you up with the silliest emergency but it would mean the world to me. So, here's the deal — I'm a full-blown adult, but storms freak me out, man 😖 The wind howlin', thunders crashin', and lightning flashin' — it all messes with my vibe. Can I get some headcanons or a drabble with Dabi comforting the reader (preferably female as I identify as one)? Yeah, I go by she/her pronouns. Thanks in advance 🙂

And big ups for keeping those emergency reqs open 24/7. You're doing a real solid by helping folks out, even with the small stuff like writing. Much love for that, seriously, Marcianna (I like your nickname btw 😍)

A storm - Dabi x Reader

A/N: much love right back atcha, dear Anonnie! Gotta keep the emergency hotline open for all those in need out there - I'm here to help, whether it's for big emergencies or just a little something to brighten someone's day. Your appreciation truly warms my heart. If you ever need anything or just want to chat, don't hesitate to reach out🌟

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

The night hung heavy with the ominous rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning. In the cramped quarters of the League of Villains' hideout, Dabi couldn't ignore the distant sobs that echoed through the wall. He recognized those sobs; they belonged to a girl, a fellow member of the League.

Concern etched across his features, Dabi pushed open the door to her rooms, the rusted hinges groaning in protest. There she was, curled up on her bed, a bundle of nerves. Her eyes were wide, tears streaming down her face as the storm outside waged its chaotic symphony.

Dabi hesitated for a moment before his ever-present apathetic facade softened, replaced by a genuine concern that few had seen. He leaned against the doorframe, his voice low but surprisingly gentle. "Hey, Y/N. What's eatin' at ya?"

She flinched at the sudden intrusion but looked up, tear-stained eyes meeting Dabi's piercing gaze. "I-I hate storms. Always have," she admitted, her voice shaky. "Just messes with my head, you know?"

Dabi's expression softened a fraction, an understanding glint in his eyes. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to her bed, sitting down beside her. "Storms can be a real pain in the ass," he muttered, his tone surprisingly empathetic. "But hey, it's okay, it's not like the storm will hurt ya."

She managed a weak smile, appreciating the unexpected comfort from her usually aloof comrade. Dabi, sensing her unease, draped his arm casually over her shoulders, offering a silent gesture of support. The distant thunder continued its relentless assault, but within the confines of their makeshift sanctuary, a sense of camaraderie began to bloom.

"Look," Dabi started, his gaze fixed on the flickering shadows dancing across the walls. "It sits here," he tapped your temple with his index finger. "It's nothing but an irrational fear. A little thunder ain't gonna hurt ya."

She chuckled softly, wiping away a lingering tear. "Never thought I'd see the day Dabi turns into a motivational speaker."

Dabi smirked, the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. "Well, stranger things have happened, haven't they?"

As the storm outside raged on, Dabi continued to talk, his words a steady stream of distraction.

Eventually, the thunder began to wane, the storm retreating into the night. The girl's tense shoulders relaxed, and Dabi gave her a subtle nod. "See? Storm's over. You made it through," he remarked, his tone light but reassuring.

She sighed, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over her. "Thanks, Dabi. I appreciate it."

Dabi shrugged, a nonchalant smile playing on his lips. "No problem."

And in that quiet moment, as the last echoes of the storm faded away, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she had found an unexpected ally in the unlikeliest of places.

#emergency request #dabi boku no hero academia #bnha dabi #dabi fluff #dabi x reader fluff #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #dabi is touya #dabi my hero academia #mha fluff #bnha fluff #my hero academia dabi #mha dabi #mha x reader #mha x you

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inkedtae · 3 months

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Omgg updates coming soon?! I can’t wait and super excited! Thank you so much!

yeah!! i’m wrapping up chapter 11 of rotten angelcake right now so if everything goes according to plan i hope to post it sometime this coming week !! then i am going to focus on howlin for a bit before dropping some more rotten drabbles for you ☺️ i’m super excited too !!

#letters #the masked #rotten angelcake kth #howlin’ bgc

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pheita · 1 year

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Hihi, this was fun my lovely bunny. So this is sort of the continuation of this Spotify drabble

The water park had been so much fun without the siblings around, but slowly Tali was reaching the end of her wisdom. She had tried again and again with little things to make Constantine understand that he was allowed to come closer, that it was okay for her if he hugged her more, or they kissed, but either he just didn't understand or didn't dare because they were among humans, and he didn't know how they would react. For days, she had already been trying to give him signals that she felt safe to take the next step. Slowly, Tali started to get annoyed by her own shyness, because she couldn't bring herself to tell him that she wanted to sleep with him. So now a few days later they were sitting in the café after the visit to the museum, enjoying their coffee and Tali could only sit there silently while her whole being was howling for Constantine, wanting to be as close to him as possible, wanting to feel him like never before and have the last piece of him for herself. If it continued like this, soon she would have no choice but to jump at him like a cat in heat. Basically, that's exactly what she was by now.

#writblr #writing #flowers of fire #tali and constantine #the cafè

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years

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Howlin’ For You – Drabble

I’ve had this idea stuck in my head for months now and decided to just finally give in a write it.

Some protective Biker!Dad!Bucky and a wee bit of Amelia

Bucky and Amelia were driving back from school.

By some miracle, Bucky knew enough not to pick her up on his motorcycle. He learned the hard way that that his daughter was starting to find it embarrassing. There once was a time – when she was still a kid and not a teenager – that Amelia thought it was cool that her dad drove a motorcycle.

Now she was embarrassed by it. The comments about how hot her dad was didn’t go unnoticed by Amelia and made her want to throw up. She also just hated unwarranted attention of any kind.

Bucky had been asking Amelia about her day when his cell started ringing.

“It’s mom,” Amelia said, seeing the screen before him.

He picked it up right away. “Hey, doll.”

“Are you guys too close to home? I realized I forgot a couple of things for dinner. Would you mind stopping by the store for me real quick?”

“Yep. Just text me what you need. Me and Amelia will grab it.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Y/N answered before hanging up.

“Mom forget to buy ingredients again?” Amelia smirked.

“Yep,” Bucky chuckled. “Mind running in and grabbing it if I give you my card?”

She nodded.

A few minutes later, they were pulling into the parking lot of Whole Foods.

Amelia jumped out.

“Hey,” Bucky grabbed her attention before she could run in. She paused. “Buy some flowers for your ma, too.”

She rolled her eyes. “What kind?”

“The prettiest ones,” Bucky told her with a chuckle.

Amelia scoffed, “That’s helpful…”

She pretended to be grossed out and annoyed by her parent’s loving marriage and partnership. But she also saw how different it was from her friends’ parents, who all seemed to hate each other.

Bucky watched his daughter walk towards the entrance.

But his attention quickly averted to the group of young men that were loitering just outside the entrance. All of their gazes were fixed on Amelia, ogling her body up and down.

If his window hadn’t been down, Bucky might’ve missed the disgusting catcalling that was aimed at his daughter.

His grip immediately tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white.

If Amelia had heard it, she pretended not to and continued on walking.

Bucky wondered when she learned the womanly skill of ignoring the disgusting behavior of men.

He hated that she had to. He also hated that she was only 15 and men were already targeting her as if she was a grown woman. They had to be in their early 20s, which only infuriated Bucky even further.

‘Breathe, Bucky. Just breathe.’ That’s what Y/N would tell him if she were here right now. She’d try to calm him down and prevent him from doing anything rash.

But she wasn’t here and Bucky’s anger was getting the best of him.

Before he could change his mind, Bucky shoved his car door open and slammed it shut behind him.

His walk alone was murderous. And it caught the attention of one of the guys. He hit his friends’ chests and nodded toward Bucky, grabbing everyone else’s attention.

“Hey! What did you just say to her?” Bucky asked.

He’d give them a chance to look guilty for their actions, to immediately realize that what they’d just done was wrong.

But they weren’t that smart.

However, they did seem to know what he was talking about and started laughing amongst themselves.

“Why don’t you fuck off, old man?” One of them muttered without looking Bucky in the eye and turned his back on him, bringing his attention back to his friends who were laughing again.

It only made Bucky’s anger worse.

Alright. He’d tried it Y/N’s way. And that didn’t work.

Now it was his way.

Bucky grabbed the one who had talked back to him and slammed him against the car they were all standing near.

“Hey! Hey! Whoa, man! Chill the fuck out!” One of the friends panicked.

They weren’t so tough now, realizing that even though they were outnumbered, this stranger was taller and stronger than they were. It probably didn’t ease their panic that they saw a knife attached to the back of his waist on his jeans.

“How old do you think that girl was?” Bucky hissed, his grip on the shirt tightening.

His voice and tone were disturbingly relaxed. Through his military training and being around too many alpha males, Bucky learned that the man with the most control and composure always came out on top.

“I-I-I don’t know, man! 21?” The guy stuttered, eyes wide with fear.

Bucky slammed against the car again. “She’s 15 years old.”

“How was I supposed–”

“It doesn’t matter how old she is,” Bucky snapped. “No girl or woman wants to be catcalled. Do you understand me?”

The guy just stared up at Bucky, hoping that he wasn’t going to get hurt.

“I said, do you understand me?” Bucky repeated, annoyance evident in his voice.

The guy nodded his head quickly, realizing that showing his understanding was the only way he was going to survive this interaction unscathed.

Bucky released him roughly and then turned to acknowledge the boy’s friends.

“You idiots ever heard of the Howling Commandos?”

They all looked at each other and gave one another a reluctant nod.

Everyone in the area had heard of the biker gang in some way or another. Some people knew they existed and others were convinced they were just an urban legend.

“If I or any one of them ever see you talk to another woman that way again, I think you can imagine what’ll be in store for you.” Bucky tilted his head and raises his eyebrows, offering them the chance to make the mistake of asking him to elaborate.

With that, he slowly walked back to his car.

As soon as his back was turned to the guys, they all scrambled to get into their car and make a run for it.

A few minutes later, Amelia was practically skipping back to the car.

“I got mom a bouquet of Dahlias. I feel like their weird and creepy, so she’ll like them.”

Bucky chuckled. “Good choice.” He was trying his best to act like nothing happened.

He knew how much Amelia got freaked out when Bucky turned all biker on the world.

If Amelia noticed her dad acting more tense, she didn’t comment on it.

But Y/N, however, wasn’t one to let things go unacknowledged.

When Y/N and Bucky were finally alone in their bed at the end of the night, she asked him what was going on.

Bucky reluctantly told her about his little altercation.

“Should I talk to Amelia?” He asked her.

Y/N sighed. “It’s not about talking to Amelia or teaching her anything. It’s about making the world a safer place for her. And you know how you do that?” She asked him gently with an encouraging smile.

“Huh?”

“By raising boys to know better. And I think we did a pretty good job with the twins, don’t you think?”

Bucky shrugged. “If I ever heard the boys say those things to a woman…” he got angry just thinking about it.

“They would never, Bucky. You know that.” Y/N defended.

He knew Y/N was right. But he was grumpy and pissed off, quite frankly. Owen and Grayson were just two young men out of millions. It didn’t really feel like much of an impact to Bucky. It was other people’s sons that he was worried about – not his own.

A moment of silence passed between them.

“You feel helpless, right? Like you can’t control what other people do?” Y/N asked.

Bucky nodded, realizing that’s exactly how he felt.

“What you are experiencing is minuscule to what every woman feels like every day of her life.”

Bucky blinked as he processed what she meant. “I’m sorry, doll.”

She chuckled and laid her head on her husband’s chest. “You don’t have to be sorry, Buck. Plus, ‘sorry’ isn’t going to stop other men from being misogynistic assholes.”

He brushed her hair out of her face and off her neck. His hand then moving to rub her back.

In minutes, she was fast asleep.

But Bucky couldn’t find rest so easily. All the women in his life taught him different things about the way the world saw and treated women. He just never expected his daughter to be the one to teach him another lesson.

---------

I missed writing for Howlin’ For You, so there ya go.

#howlin' for you #howlin' for you universe #howlin' for you drabbles #howlin' for you one shots #biker!bucky #biker!bucky x reader #amelia barnes #biker!dad!bucky #dad!biker!bucky #protectice!bucky #dad!bucky #dad bucky #hfy!bucky

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palecntclcgy-blog · 5 years

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Tag Dump

// May add more as I get interactions going with other muses

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moongoblin-library · 3 years

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chefs kiss selections

💫 - my personal favorites,

🌌 - my comfort fics

🤍- pretty much all of these are nsfw, the ones that are sfw are denoted by a white heart

Bucky Barnes

Soft 💫 🌌by @softlybarnes

The Florist 🌌 by @softlybarnes 🤍

it was dead long ago, but it's all coming back to me by 💫@blueberrybelova

Good Choice [roomate!bucky] by @angrythingstarlight

"princess" [bodyguard!bucky] by @buckycuddlebuddy

Busy Bee 💫 by @punemy-spotted

→ protect; bucky barnes by @bucksfucks

forever ; bucky barnes by @bucksfucks

All My Love 💫🌌 by

love + cake, not war | b.b by @belladonnabarnes

stress relief ; bucky barnes 🌌by @bucksfucks

So Good For Me [soft!alphabucky]🌌 by @angrythingstarlight

Body Talk [personaltrainer!bucky x plus size!reader] by @boxofbonesfic

The Things We Carry With Us by @pellucid-constellations

It All Belongs To You 💫 by @angrythingstarlight

Two Pages 🤍 💫 by @softlybarnes

Lee Bodecker

If You Go Down To The Woods Tonight [Lee Bodecker x reader] by @badassbuchanan

you better not shout, better not cry 💫[dark!gangbang] by @nsfwsebbie

B. Banner

Bruce Lab Smut by @boop-le-snoot

risk by @loonyloopylupxn

Emotional Support Nerd by @boop-le-snoot

Till the Veins Start to Shiver by @couldntbedamned

Sugar by @mypoisonedvine

Misc

Jealous Boy [Jake Jensen x reader] by @drabblewithfrannybarnes

Pureza {Javier Peña x F!Reader} by @absurdthirst

Snacks and Nibbles 💫🌌[Eddie Brock/Venom x reader] by @slothspaghettiwrites

Still- Geralt x Reader Smut Drabble by @inber

not all who wander are lost 💫 [destroyer!chris x reader] by @nsfwsebbie

Series

of gilded cages and heart shaped keys; {loki} 💫 🌌 by @luciilferss

Howlin' For You {biker!bucky} 💫🌌 by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Gunslinger Series 🤍 {bucky} by @lovelyavengers

Rules {ceo!bucky} by @samwilsons-pillowpecs

Sweet Pea {biker!bucky} by @metalbuckaroo

Safe With Me {bodyguard!bucky} by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Sugar {40s!bucky} @softlybarnes

Give In {lee bodecker} by @overr-written

My Best Friend Jensen {jake jensen}by @drabblewithfrannybarnes

Masterlists

Bruce Banner Masterlist by @hulksmashin-bannerpackin

tags- by character, au type, and nsfw is tagged!

#marvel fic #mcu fic #marvel fic rec #fic recs #fic rec list #fanfic #bucky barnes fic recs #bruce banner fic recs #marvel series recs #fic rec

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thesoftdumbass · 4 years

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read this - Bucky Barnes

one-shots

Clueless by @justsomebucky

Close Your Eyes by @justsomebucky

Party Set Up by @avengers-fics

The Proposal part 1 & part 2 by @buckyywiththegoodhair

The Christmas Spirit by @buckthegrump

Holiday Heist by @avengerofyourheart

Too Young for This by @iwillbeinmynest

The Barista and the Novelist by @ugh-supersoldiers

Daddy Drabbles #13 by @bucky-plums-barnes

Little James by @bbbarneswrites

cooking with bucky by @imaginingbucky

warm in december by @sebbies

craving you by @sebbies

Bookmark my Heart by @moonbeambucky

groceries by @ballyhoobarnes

Like Silver Glass & Wet Sand, Dry Sand by @thejamesoldier

Brand New Day by @soldatbarnes

I Am For You by @sgtjbuccky

not just because we’re friends by @theassetseyeliner

Why is she wearing my hoodies? by @writing-soldiers

the five times you fall asleep on bucky by @captainrogerss

Dance With Me by @moonbeambucky

Pup Cups & Howling Karaoke by @imhereforbvcky

Fight Night by @abovethesmokestacks

Fridays by @justsomebucky

Life’s A Movie by @justsomebucky

my heart, my angel by @theassetseyeliner

Three Hours by @justsomebucky

Perfect Timing? by @notimetoblog

Hidden Lagoons and Seashells by @after-avenging-hours

Repairs by @samingtonwilson

mixed signals by @captainrogerss

Love is For Children part 1 & part 2 by @sebseyesandbuckysthighs

It Was Always You by @beccaanne814

Pancakes and Kisses by @bucky-plums-barnes

Saving the Day by @jaamesbbarnes

Miss Kitty by @pietrotheavenger

Lucky by @moonbeambucky

Secure Your Back by @writingcroissant

Handsome Stranger by @aubzylynn

Black Serpent by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Music by @softlybarnes

Strangers in the Night by @redgillan

Just Desserts by @delicatelyherdreams

Adrenaline Fix & part 2 by @jaamesbbarnes

Already Yours by @sgtjbuccky

Tangier & Redux by @softlybarnes

Perhaps by @evanstarff

Boy Next Door by @revengingbarnes

Uniformed by @bucky-plums-barnes

Nights Like These by @soldatbarnes

Leave Me Weak by @moonbeambucky

Domesticity in Brooklyn by @barnesrogersvstheworld

Home Comforts by @writemarvelousthings

Soft by @softlybarnes

The (not naked) pin-up calendar by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Flowers by @suz-123

Helpless For You by @sgtjbuccky

Words Can Wait by @kentuckybarnes

i wished on the moon for you by @sunmoonandbucky

Soul Survivor by @beccaanne814

A Reunion by @suz-123

series

Of Dusk and Dawn by @hellomissmabel

Perfect Strangers by @captain-rogers-beard

Guess Who? by @redgillan

By Royal Decree by @captainrogerss

Winter Canvas by @sebbytrash

Nothing Under 7 Inches by @hellomissmabel

The Lucky One by @avengerofyourheart

Can’t You See? by @captainrogerss

Breaking the Rules by @redgillan

from your Secret Santa by @theincredibleultron

Just One Kiss by @sarahwroteathing

Safe With Me by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Do Me a Favor by @captainrogerss

This Is War by @soldatbarnes

Drunken Shenanigans by @captainrogerss

Shifter Series by @floatingpetals

Typos by @shurisneakers

by chance by @captainrogerss

Dissonance by @killmongerdreams

Longing by @sebbytrash

Between the Lines by @221bshrlocked

love & coffee by @captainrogerss

Under Oath by @ugh-supersoldiers

Big Girls Don’t Cry by @myattemptatfanfic

Handcuffed one - two - three - four - five by @untimelyideasforstories

Follow My Lead by @ciarawritesmarvel

Catch Me by @buckyywiththegoodhair

Run to Me by @sgtjbuccky

Seeing is Believing by @eufeme

Howlin’ For You by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Confident by @belleetlabeast

Sweet Dreams by @abovethesmokestacks

Espresso by @shurisneakers

Arreption by @eufeme

City Love by @chrevastan

Honey and the Bee by @chrevastan

Flour Girl by @avengerofyourheart

Cafe Crema by @wonderlandmind4

Most Wanted by @sgtjbuccky

A Second Chance by @acreativelydifferentlove

365 Days by @abovethesmokestacks

Death Do Us Part by @sgtjbuccky

Teardrops on Lashes by @delicatelyherdreams

Blue by @softlybarnes

Fly Me To The Moon by @jaamesbbarnes

Hero for Hire by @delicatelyherdreams

For Love by @moonbeambucky

A Love That Never Leaves by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Bad Match by @justreadingfics

Deception by @revengingbarnes

Looking for a Heartbeat by @justreadingfics

Howler & the Black Cat by @kentuckybarnes

Artistic Licence by @cametobuyplums

All The Love Songs by @dracris33

She’s So High by @eyesfixedonthesun22

All I Ask Of You by @brooklyn-boy

Wilderness Bound by @kentuckybarnes

While You Were Sleeping by @kentuckybarnes

Sugar Daddy’s by @kentuckybarnes

All We’ve Got Is Time by @hispeculiartreasure

Astrophile by @all1e23

Heart & Soul by @all1e23

Compromised by @brooklyn-boy

Uptown Girl by @brooklyn-boy

Frozen Heart by @the-omni-princess

Blood Bound by @the-omni-princess

Wordpeddler by @heli0s-writes

A World of Our Own by @shreddedparchment

Step With Me by @kentuckybarnes

Until You Break My Heart by @kentuckybarnes

Revival by @brooklyn-boy

Hoist the Colours by @brooklyn-boy

10 Signs an Introvert Likes You by @andyl394

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fic #avengers #marvel #fic rec

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whirlybirbs · 4 years

Text

𝒜.𝑀. ; watering hole | a high-society drabble

summary: arthur and the boys have a bit to drink. reposted since the read more was glitching in the ask! anon asked: psst, i know u wrote about drunk!arthur before but. mayhaps, some more?

pairing: arthur morgan/reader (turner placeholder lastname)

a/n: drunk arthur absolutely kills me - i just replayed the lenny mission last night so this is (chef kiss) timing. part of a companion piece to simpler said aloud. this is a drabble for the collection high-society, which follows the events of that fic.

It's a quiet night.

You're posed by the fire with a needle and thread in your hands. In your lap sits a tumble of blue fabric. The stitch along the shoulder has been ripped, leaving a gaping hole in one of Arthur's favorite flannel shirts — and with all the washing and cooking done for the night, you'd settled in beside Tilly and Abigail intending on finally fixing up the shirt for the outlaw.

Fireside chatter is nothing but a gentle lull; the majority of the camp has settled in for the night, save for Hosea and Lenny, playing cards at the table beyond the fire, and the handful of boys who'd ridden out just after dinner set on gathering some supplies from the General Store.

You're tying a knot in the thread when you hear the clamor of laughter and hooves coming in from the woods — immediately, Tilly spares you an unimpressed look.

"Here comes th' carnival," she sighs, "No wonder it took them so damn long."

"Christ, I can almost smell the whiskey off them from here," chirps Hosea, holding his cards and shaking his head. That muscles a laugh out of you.

Abigail snorts. "This'll be a real show."

Considering the fact it was Charles and Javier and Bill and Arthur... well, of course, it oughta be. Anytime that posse decided on a drink at the local saloon, it almost always turned into a flurry of laughter and one too many bar fights.

Standing, you smooth down your skirts and pull the patterned shall around your shoulders a bit tighter. You fold Arthur's shirt neatly, pop it on the log you'd previously been perched upon, and make your way over to the jovial gaggle of men with a smile.

You aren't surprised to see Arthur hanging off of Charles with Sugarcube hitched to Taima — the blonde outlaw clings to his dear friend as laughter rocks his shoulders and he slips gracelessly off the back of the appaloosa and into the tall grass.

"Whoah!"

The thud sends all four of them into a barrage of laughter; and as legs wobble down from their horses, you wonder how the hell they even made it back to camp. Even Charles, a notorious heavy-weight, sways with a buzz as he hitches Taima and stumbles towards Arthur — he's hellbent on offering a hand, only to crack a wry grin when he spies you nearing.

"Arthur, look who it is."

You have to laugh when a blonde head suddenly pokes up from the grass like a field mouse. The crooked little smirk on his face is terribly charming, and you just shake your head when the outlaw gives a big holler and scrambles upright.

"Y' look a lot like th' girl m' gonna marry —"

He trips over his own two feet when he finally stands — and he laughs it off, blinking down at the gilded steel-toed boots as if they were to blame — but manages to stagger on over your way with a goofy grin on his face.

"I been singin' about y' all night," he slurs, hands moving to his hips, "Did y' hear? All th' way from Rhodes... reckon I was loud enough..."

"Singin'?" you gasp playfully, sparing Charles a look over Arthur's broad shoulders, "Is tha' true?"

Charles manages a pained nod.

"He wouldn't shut up!" comes Bill's bark.

"He really does try," Javier grins, moving to press a chaste kiss to your cheek as he weaves by in friendly gesture. You roll your eyes, patting his arm as he bids goodnight.

God, Hosea was right.

They all smell like whiskey.

"My, my, Arthur Morgan," you croon, watching as he tips his head back and adjusts his gambler's hat as he swaggers near. There's a prideful grin on his face as he wobbles, "It's a shame I missed it."

He nearly giggles then, leaning into Charles as the equally-broad man wraps an arm around the outlaw's shoulder. As the others wander off, it's the two gentle giants left to muscle each other around like brothers.

"Maybe next time, y' can come with us, then."

"An' see me at my worst?" he scoffs, waving his hands and giving a toothy grin, "Can't be havin' that."

"Oh, yes," you agree, shaking your head as Arthur snorts at your tone — it's playful and sweet and oh-so-amused and he finds himself rather enraptured with which your hair disagrees with the humid air. Tumbles of tresses fall around your shoulders and you press an unruly tangle behind your ear, "God forbid I see Mr. Arthur Morgan piss-drunk, howlin' at a piano... I mean, if I tagged along, at least I could play while y'did."

His laugh is distracted. He's busy being moony-eyed, stuck on the soft glow you hold in his heart. It doesn't make much sense but it does to him. You're so damn pretty he swears it's like someone's shoveled a bushel of roses right into his lungs. He forgets how to breathe around you.

"Christ, I love you."

It comes out like an exhale.

Soft enough to remind you how much you love him, and earnest enough that Charles suddenly wonders if he is intruding on this moment.

"Maybe it's best we get you to bed, Arthur..."

"I love you, too, you goon — now c'mon, Charles s'right."

You spare Charles a fond look, fingers moving to touch his free hand gently in thanks — for all of it. Carting Arthur back, keeping an eye on him, being his friend... Being your friend. He squeezes your hand back as Charles' brows quirk at the trading of affections and you can see the gears turning as you slip an arm around Arthur's waist.

"Didja hear that, Charles?" Arthur slurs, "Sh' loves me."

"I thought we went over this —" you laugh, sing-song sweet.

"Yea," a chuckle bubbles up as he staggers along towards his tent, supported by yourself and Charles, "Still like hearin' it, though."

"Once you're in bed," you grunt at the sudden weight being leaned your way, "I'll tell y' it all you'd like."

Safe to say, Charles Smith has never seen a drunk Arthur Morgan be put to bed that fast.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 imagine #simpler said aloud #for some reason the read more was IMBEDDING ITSELF IN THE ASK?#tumblr i am BEGGING YOU to get some sort of UI UX team on this shit stat

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aquilaclangens · 2 years

Text

a drabble of max’s canonical end in v ; down without a sound.

TW for graphic death, graphic injury, nazis, some arguing...

Max knew he'd be on Death's door the second he started up that scheme for a revolution.

Hell, it was obvious. Because of fuckin' Schulhoff wanting his Evie's love-- that bastard would do anything to get 'er. Even selling Max out to those Nazi fuckers if it meant getting to the top... even if it meant getting to the top...

Max could feel himself slump, hands held up by shackles like he was in some medieval film, his face bruised, body battered, beaten-- unable to see the light of day from inside such a tiny cell. The year was '49, and he and Michael Toscani were the remnants of the Polish-Jewish-American's squad within the 101st Airborne. Max could only slightly move his fingers while Michael began to poke at him with his boot-wearing foot. They still wore their uniforms, despite all of their struggles and torture they dealt with-- after all, still proudly showed themselves as the remnants of the 101st Airborne from Deathshead's Compound... even if now they were seen as traitors.

" Max... Max! Amico-- svegliati! "

The Chicagoan's head snapped up with a shaky gasp, eyes widening in a state of alarm, brown hair in front of his bloodied face, " Huh--? S-Shit-- Mikey... " Max sputtered out, but the curly-haired Italian squinted off to him, " Finally woke up... Shit. " Michael muttered with a sigh of relief, " You hear the news? We'll be up at the Lincoln Memorial tomorrow. Engel... you know what that means. "

Max's shoulders slumped... Death, huh? Like Cap would say, 'Death at the gates again. Howlin' my name'. Except this time, all they could do was let Death in and apologize for making him wait. The Chicagoan glanced to his pal in silence, letting out a shuddering breath, " ... yeah. " His voice grew quiet, his expression visibly falling. Michael had kept quiet for a moment, sensing his friend's distress. Might as well have something to distract them.

" Hey, " Toscani quietly began, " it's gonna be Evelyn's birthday, right? "

" Yeah. " Bennett replied, " Valentine's Day. " Though, soon enough, he frowned a bit more, tilting his head up to the only window they were allowed to have-- letting the tiniest bit of moonlight in, washing over their broken forms like the kiss of a long-lost lover. " ... I was gonna get 'er one'a those, uh... Lockets. Picture'a us in'em. " Max's words were mumbled, Micahel could barely hear him, but he strained himself to do so anyway for the sake of his friend, " She's, uh... I remember, she told me 'bit before we went to the Compound that... she's gonna have a kid. Already got a li’l boy runnin’ ‘round now, n’ we’re gonna have another kid in a few months. "

A huff of a laugh from Max, " ...well, jus' as long as... you know, he's happy. But... fuck. " Max's head dropped with a tired, defeated gaze meeting the bloodied, cold floor. " Knowin' that these jackboot jag-offs're gonna be judgin' the kids by how they look... I-- I can only hope t'a God they look like his motha'. "

Michael pursed his lips as Max's fists clenched in his bindings, a single wet droplet hitting the floor near Max's feet-- Max was starting to cry, he quickly noticed, tears slipping down his cheeks, blood slowly dripping from his mouth from the beating earlier in the day, " Fuckin'... jus' gotta ask God-- if our li'l kid can be a beautiful or an amazin' or handsome li'l fool. Jus' so then... s-so then he'd at least have a chance'a survivin' in this fuckin' place... "

Max let out a shaky sigh, blinking his eyes a few times while he tried to form his words, " H-Hey, Mikey? Y'think the Cap survived that explosion? "

Well, it got Michael thinking. They both remembered it. July. '46. At the Compound when they were busting their asses, fighting for their lives in the trenches, seeing that explosion and seeing those three figures fly out of the window from what little they could see of them at the time. And, Toscani wasn't gonna lie-- he was less hopeful compared to Max. Wasn't one for sugarcoating things, neither. Otherwise, Toscani would've been calling himself puttana bugiarda. Lying bitch.

" No. " Toscani finally muttered out in response to him. " From a height like that... Ehn... Non credo che sopravviverebbe. "

" Shit... whaddya think he's thinkin' about us up there, then? Givin' St. Peter some Hell, hah? Lookin' down at us an' goin'... 'y'did good'? Maybe gettin' us a drink with those moth'fuckin' angels? "

" Probably, Maxie, probably... "

The two soldiers sat in silence for some time, sitting there, unable to do anything to save themselves. Max weakly scowled at himself, tugging at his shackles the best he could-- he was desperate to survive another day, be like their Captain. Hell, for this whole time, Max couldn't help but just think about Captain Blazkowicz. Hell, guy seemed like he could survive anything. From what he's heard, he's been through Hell and back and back again, going through Wolfenstein so many times, stopping the Nazi war machine and throwing wrenches into their workings-- he made it seem so easy.

... made it seem so easy.

Hell, Max knew that if it were the Captain leading this whole revolution, he would've succeeded no problem (well, of course there'd be problems, it'd be unrealistic to think there wouldn't be)... Shit. He just wished he was like B.J. Max began to tug at his shackles a bit more, his feet starting to shift against the dirtied floor, his eyes flicking off to the small barred window, tear-laden face being highlighted by the moonlight again, " Fuckin' A-- shit, c'mon! " He choked out to himself. Michael furrowed his brows while he saw Max shift and struggle about. " Amico...? " He began-- only to watch as Max, with all his strength, suddenly tore himself from his shackles and fell to the ground with a thud. The man groaned on the floor, his cheek pressing against the cold ground, while Michael could only frown.

Guy was hopeful. He had to give him that.

Max pushed himself up with a bit of effort-- then, he made his way to Michael, a boot on the wall while his hands grasped at the bindings holding his friend up, yet Toscani snapped at him, " No, no, just leave me up here, you idiot! You're gonna get us both in trouble and we'll get something even WORSE than getting executed! "

" Well, I don't plan on keepin' myself here when I got a kid and got a baby on th' way! " Bennett sputtered out, yet he let out a sharp gasp when Michael kicked him away, sending Max onto his back with a thud.

" Let me sleep then, idiota! You go off being some big American hero while I can stay here! " Michael grunted at him, " Might as well get beauty sleep for tomorrow, huh?! "

Max frowned, trying to recover from the blow, watching as Michael lulled his head. No matter how much Michael giving up had upset Max greatly-- he was right. Fucking around like this and trying to play hero would get them into something even worse than death. Shit, he tried playing hero with the revolution. And look where that got 'em.

More time passed. Max couldn't sleep. Michael at least could-- but not Max.

The Staff Sergeant had been pressed against the wall of the cell, head lulled forward-- all he could do was just wait. Wait and think. Be stuck in his thoughts... Was this really how it was gonna end? He'd ask himself, this really how they'd die? Stuck in a cell, only to get dragged along like cattle and be slaughtered... for fighting for democracy?

Goddamn it... Goddamn it...!

He tried to rub at his eyes, his shoulders slumping more-- defeat and reality was finally settling in for him. He'd die, he'd die and leave Evelyn and his own little baby all alone-- and they'd be stuck in a world full'a fascists. Them against the fucking world.

Goddamn it, goddamn it, goddamn it! If he just kept quiet a little bit longer-- didn't spread shit to Dominik, then he'd at least have a year or two! Right? RIGHT?! FUCK!

As he found himself moving his hands to dig his fingers into the floor as much as he could, he could hear a woman's voice, one he knew all too well.

" Max? ... Oh, god, Max, darling! "

" Evie..! "

Max had been quick to scramble to his feet, grimacing in pain... but as he pushed himself up a bit, just enough to let his face finally be against the bars, he felt smooth, gentle hands caress his rough face. " Oh, god... "

Evelyn. Like a goddess gracing his presence-- he was unworthy. Didn't deserve a woman like Evelyn, but he was able to have her anyway. ... Didn't understand how.

He could see the way her hair would bounce, that beautiful blonde with those twinkling blue eyes that reminded him of the skies, those wine-red lips that left him swooning, and not to mention that little beauty mark near her nose. Max let out a shaky sigh, pressing his cheeks into her hands.

" Evie... 'msorry. " He mumbled, " 'Msorry I'm-- I'm leavin' you an' th' kiddos alone... "

Evelyn let out a weak sigh at this, her eyes blinking rapidly just to keep the tears out of them-- her dress was as black as night, her wide-brimmed hat hiding her face, along with her petticoat-- if she was going to go rush to get to Max, she'd goddamn well do it in style.

" Max... Maxie, love, don't say that. " Evelyn muttered to him as sweetly as she could, caressing his cheekbones with her thumbs, wiping his tears away. " I... " She faltered a tad. What could she say in this situation? That he wasn't going to die? He seemed to understand her struggles with that, as he let out a huff of a laugh, lulling his head forward a bit into her hands, " Sorry... " He found himself apologizing, " Can't put that on ya, sweetums... " He let out a small sigh through his nose again, just enjoying the way she'd caress his face and hold him close. " ... How's Joshua? " Max mumbled, " He doin' okay? He's four now... "

" Doing the best he can... trying to be a good big brother, too. " Evelyn whispered to him in response, managing to pull him close enough just to be able to properly kiss his lips-- his bloodied, scarred, chapped lips. Oh, god, she couldn't remember the last time she was able to do that... He deserved it. " Keeps... a-asking about you, and... " Her voice cracked, her eyes drifting away while she frantically blinked them again-- her mascara was already starting to fail her, though, as a few streaks were beginning to slip down those red cheeks of hers. " ... w-wants to know when you're coming home... "

Max could only find himself grinning at that-- he's cried the whole damn night, couldn't break Evelyn's heart even more.

" ... well, maybe someday I'll get home. " Max muttered out, " Evie? If they don't let me see ya tomorrow... I-- I want y' t'know I love ya, so goddang much. S-Shit, gonna be honest, don't love my momma as much as I love you. " He huffed a little laugh, pressing his forehead against hers while he held her hands... " I'm gonna be seein' the Captain tomorrow. Gonna let 'im know that you said hi, huh? "

Evelyn's breath hitched in her throat-- and she couldn't help but finally, properly cry. She reached in, tried to pull him close-- oh, god... She was gonna lose her husband, the love of her life, and Joshua was gonna lose a father. His father.

Max pulled her into another kiss, the best he could while he stayed on his tip-toes. He didn't wanna leave her. Fuck, to leave her would be his world would end, and in a way it really was gonna be ending. At least he had one last moment with her. Thank God, thank you God for giving him this one last moment, but why? Why let the Nazis take over the world? To 'test' humanity? Well, fuck that. If Max had any say in the world, he would've fought God, beaten his ass and had him on the floor of his goddamn golden halls and let those fuckin' angels know that he wasn't gonna stand for fascist shitheads trying to take over his home.

... But all he could do now was accept it. Accept what was coming. Might as well, right?

It felt like a dream, that night. That he was able to feel her hands, to kiss her cheeks, her lips-- to have her touch his face. It really, truly did feel like a dream. Everything passed by like a blur. He was tugged along like cattle, forced into the forefront next to Michael in silence, the two men forced to have bags over their heads like they were nameless grunts, hands in cuffs-- both of them cuffed together as they were forced to the wall in silence.

As they were pushed, Michael grunted a tad, " Max? " He mumbled, " I'm-- I'm sorry about last night... " He muttered, " Just-- just... I'm scared. "

" I know. " Max whispered back to him, " I am, too... but-- but we're goin' out together, y'kno'?... oh, god... " Max squeezed his eyes shut under the bag, a weak hiccup leaving his lips. He couldn't stop shaking... " Hey-- hey Mike? I, I wasn't mad at ya for anythin', I want ya t'know. "

" Fanculo... " Michael whispered in response-- they could hear Engel, her and her fucking speech, like she was some hero. They both could hear it, the way Dominik was invited up to the front of the crowd... Max could only be heard whimpering next to his friend, the two staying close together. If they were gonna die, they'd at least die together like men.

He could hear one soldier speak up in German-- now, much like his Cap, Max wasn't good at speaking German, but he damn well understood it. It was to his left, from what he could tell.

" Haben Sie das gehört? Sie weinen...! "

Max could only shakily breathe out, sucking in a breath. Couldn't stop shaking in his goddamn boots-- but he could hear those soldiers walk off...

... and soon enough, he could hear Engel's voice again. Like a knife stabbing through the dark, right into his spine,

" BEREIT! "

" Mikey? " Max tried to speak up,

" ZIEL! "

" Si? " Replied Michael, his head lightly turning to him.

Max could feel himself hesitate, his mouth going dry, his throat closing up-- but he forced himself to speak the best he could-- as quickly as he could before they'd go down together.

" ... Ti amo, fratello. "

And finally, Max could hear Michael choke up, taken aback by his Italian-- but when they could hear the clicks of rifles behind them, Michael forced himself to reply.

" ... l-love you, too, brother-- "

" FEUER! "

And then-- the soldiers fired, as they were ordered. Max could feel it, Michael could feel it. Bullets tore through their skin, riddling them with holes, through organs and bones, rupturing and shattering and sending unimagineable pain throughout the both of them in everywhere they could imagine, sending them forward with collective thuds.

Michael didn't speak. But Max could only weakly gasp-- coughing, struggling, writhing about. He'd try to survive. Do something. Like a fish out of water, he'd try to get back in. ... But when he could feel the bag pulled off of his head, his eyes flicked up to the blonde woman with her golden luger, watching as she smiled so coldly yet 'sweetly' in his direction.

" ... you really are a fighter, aren't you? " She whispered, tapping the luger to his chin. Max could only cough up blood and gasp for air in response. " You would've done well in my military. "

Then, as Max was rolled over, he could see the barrel put between his eyes, that black gloved finger on the trigger-- and then, she fired. He could feel it rip through his skin so fast, right through muscle and bone, piercing his brain and right into the concrete below him, but all he could manage to think-- and see-- in just that final moment...

Captain?

#drabble.#drabble #ooc.#headcanon.#ask to tag tw #alternate history #war tw #death tw #prisoner of war tw #pow tw #graphic death tw #graphic injury tw #nazi tw #fascism tw #v ; down without a sound

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inkedtae · 2 years

Text

chantober 2022

Welcome to Chantober!

I became a stay around 2018, getting hooked when I heard God’s Menu for the first time. Chan immediately stuck out to me and, though I have tried to deny it multiple times, I was infatuated with him. It’s been four years and I am now completely enthralled, enchanted, utterly in love with the person has become.

I don’t really like to talk too much about myself and usually just would like to share stories and gush about our biases. I tend to prefer to bleed my wounds into my fics and try to heal myself through them. I share a lot with Chan though. It’s not that I don’t feel like my our biases are not relatable in terms of mental health. For most of them, there is still a wall of protection around who they are (especially in front of a camera), which I admire and respect. Chan tends to wear his heart on his sleeve though, completely disregarding that filter most of his peers in a similar position would prefer. So, we learn more about him, not only because he shares it, but also because he tends to maintain the same persona on and off camera. And through that I have come to realise that we share similar wounds and yearn for the same things in a relationships. I see myself a lot in him while also seeing just how different we are.

This is all to say that the last couple of years were very hard for me. Between losing my best friend to trying to graduate university during a pandemic to realising a diploma is a scam, I felt like I was on autopilot for most of the time. Kinda like a zombie walking with no real purpose in life. But, something changed when I would listen to Stray Kids, or watch their vlives. I was able to be distracted from all my troubles and Chan, particularly, helped pull me out of my funk. I really needed Chan and he was there for me.

So, this October, I want to dedicate my blog to Chan. I have spent all of September writing and I plan to post a fic every week, sprinkling in the occasional drabble when I get a chance. I will also try to open up a “create a moment with me” night dedicated to Chan where we can write mini fics about him together! If you would like to get involved beyond reading my fics, you can send any Chan pics or fic recs my way here. I will also be tracking the tag, #chantober 2022.

Happy Chantober!

❥ kill me slowly ⟶ october 3rd ↳ dark themes, mafia au, s2l

❥ howlin’ series ⟶ october 10-24th ↳ werewolf au, f2l, soulmates

❥ create a moment with me ⟶ every friday ↳ where we can write Bang Chan prompts/drabbles together

updated: october 9th

#chantober 2022 #bang chan fanfics #bang chan smut #bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #bang chan

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rockhoochie · 4 years

Text

Title: Anything and Everything

Link: On AO3

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking

Pairing: Dean Winchester/YN

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Fingering, Oral Sex (M/F), Tongue Fucking, Squirting, Unprotected Sex (seriously, just be safe), Marijuana, mention of prescription narcotic.

WC: 8,290

Created For @spnkinkbingo

A/N: Well...this escalated quickly! The story is told in alternating POV between Dean and Reader - Reader’s is regular text, Dean’s is italicized. I debated on splitting this into parts due to the word length, but...well, I’m impatient, and I’m really excited to share this with all of you! Plus, I think it flows better if it’s read all in one sitting 😉

This fic is dedicated to @fangirlxwritesx67 - remember that drabble prompt you sent me like, two months ago, that was Dean and reader laying on a comfortable floor, listening to music, and he starts playing with her hair, and they have a first kiss? Well, here’s your drabble 😄 Thank you for the inspiration!

And thank you everyone for reading! Drop me a line, let me know what you think - I love hearing from you ❤ ~Sarah

(’Lay Lady Lay’ music and lyrics © Bob Dylan, 1969)

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

Thank god Donna has this place, and thank god that we were so close. We’ve been here for days now, nursing our wounds: Sam had a bruised rib and a nasty gash on his torso. Dean had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. I'd been flung against a wall - I don’t remember much because I'd been knocked out hard, unconscious for hours - but by some miracle managed to come out of it with only a few ugly bruises and a migraine. Not our worst injuries by a longshot, but we’d figured since we had a home base, we may as well take advantage of it. We’d packed up yesterday, planning on heading out this morning, but an incoming snowstorm kept us from venturing out - it was half a day's drive, and even Dean couldn’t deny that the Impala doesn’t handle best on icy roads.

I like it here. It’s so quiet. And dark. No sirens or traffic, no various and questionable motel noises. No glare of city lights marring the night sky. The only light outside is coming from the moon, the only sounds are the ones I make. I look out the window, wondering when the storm will move in - the moon is full, its brightness gleaming off acres of driven snow that glints and glimmers against an indigo sky. Normally, a stillness like this is a warning, a silence this pure a screaming harbinger - but I don’t feel any threat here. No forebodings, no gut-nettling intuitions.

It’s peaceful. I’m peaceful. If I ever leave this life behind me, if I’m lucky enough to dodge all the bullets and claws and teeth and blades, I’ll settle somewhere up here, find a small house on a lake that’s tucked away from the rest of the world. He’d love that. And we could just be, live out our days and years together, work stupid pedestrian jobs to pay stupid everyday bills. I’ll plant a garden and he can restore classic cars while we raise a family and just...live...

The kettle sings and hisses, and outside, snow begins to fall in fat, feathery clusters. I pour the boiling water into a handmade, slightly lopsided clay mug that proudly proclaims “I Love Auntie Donna” in a childish script, dip and drown my tea bag, and shuffle back to my spot in the living room - my little nest in a gorgeous, hand-crafted rocking chair next to the fireplace. Donna told me her grandfather had made it, and every time I look at it, it astounds me that another human being created something so beautiful with his bare hands. Every nitch, nock, and spindle carefully considered and meticulously carved. Some of the stain has faded, and patches of lacquer have dulled, but that only adds to its beauty - you can tell this chair was loved.

The fire I’d built earlier is down to embers. I sit and stare into the blazing coals, sipping chamomile and scrying for answers to questions I don’t know. The room is warm, but I need something over my shoulders, need the weight of something wrapped around me. There’s a flannel draped over the back of the rocking chair...one of Dean’s flannels. And it’s my favorite of his, the dark red one that brings out his freckles and the deep jade of his eyes. I take it and slip my arms through the sleeves. It smells like him...like whiskey and wintergreen, leather and cotton, copper and cordite...

I catch myself before I start to fall too far. I need to pack up these thoughts and put them away where they belong before they start making me hopeful again.

I used to let myself get lost in them, let myself wander through giddy daydreams and float among sultry fantasies...I’d close my eyes at night and pretend Dean was by my side, just an arms reach away. I’d imagine it was his fingers pumping inside of me instead of mine, hear his voice in my head as I made myself come. Or I’d simply think about spending a day with him - walking through a park in autumn, stargazing on a summer night, cuddling and kissing on a rainy spring day. But after a while, when I’d accidentally found myself in love with him, I’d put all those dreams on the shelf; I'd only take them down when I was at my lowest and loneliest, grasping for a reason to keep going. There were a few times I’d thought about telling him, making a move...but Dean Winchester doesn’t need another complication. None of us do.

~*~

The shitty thing about being used to four hours of sleep is that when I actually get the chance for more, my brain doesn’t get on board. I came up here a couple of hours ago and I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed. Just keep staring at the ceiling and thinking about things I shouldn’t...

I love this place. It’s cold outside and the wind’s howlin’, but it’s damn cozy in here. If Hell ever gets a blast of Minnesota weather - and I can pack it in, leave the life - I’m getting a place like this. Hell, I’d build it myself, make it just the way we want it. We could move out here, where it’s almost backcountry, leave all the bad times behind us. It’s gonna be on a lake though - I’ll get a boat and go fishing all the time, teach our kids all the tricks to hooking the big ones...

Jesus, knock it off, Winchester. Like she’d let you screw up her life more than you already have.

YN's moving around downstairs. I should see what she’s up to, see if she’s feelin’ okay or wants any company...nah, I should just leave her alone. She got her bell rung bad the other day and it scared the shit outta me...I kinda lost it and yelled at her like a total asshole. I don’t get why I do that. Gun to my head, I guess it’s cause it seems simpler that way - rather piss her off and keep her from getting too close, instead of admitting out loud how I feel about her and watch her run for the hills.

She was in and out of it for almost two days, and I’d stayed with her as much as I could, at least till Sam would bark at me to eat or sleep. She’d used herself as bait - again- and I fucking hate it when she puts herself in the line of fire like that. I can’t stand it when she gets hurt, and this last time was...pretty bad. But she’s stubborn as hell, can’t be talked out of anything she’s already set her mind to. Actually thought she was gonna punch me when I got in her face, but I escaped with only a “fuck off, Dean”.

And I suppose those are some of the reasons my dumb ass went and fell ass over tea kettle for her - her grit and her style, the way she can dish it as good she takes it, how she handles either a gun or a blade with this almost unnatural grace... one day, I watched her make salt rounds for an hour and it was one of the most spectacular things I’d ever seen - she was in this total zone, her forehead creased in concentration, and lips mouthing the words to a song I can't hear, growling out the cutest “fuck” or “son of a bitch” if she messed up.

She’s the best part of my day - whether it’s seein’ her all cranky and bleary-eyed in the morning, passed out over a pile of books in the library, or bent over a pool table while she hustles townies - I can’t think of a better sight. And her laugh is goddamn music to ears. Her eyes, her smile...her anything and everything keeps me going. I can be two seconds away from checkin’ out, but one look at her reminds me that it's all worth it, worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.

Christ, just thinking about her like this is making my dick twitch. Doesn’t help that she laid in this bed the last few days because I can still smell her. Her perfume or soap or whatever she uses is fucking delicious, a mix of spice and spring flowers and brown sugar that sticks to her skin and practically makes my mouth water, makes me wanna taste her…

Fuck, now I’m hard. I think about jerking off for a minute, but instead I think about that time Cas showed up in my car naked and covered with bees and swing my legs off the bed. No sense in just layin’ here, thinkin’ about things that’ll never happen. I grab my duffel and pull out my flask (not much left in there, maybe two or three shots) and some clothes. Gonna check out the room down the hall that’s got one of those old school record players. Maybe some good tunes will calm me down, get my mind off things. Off of her. I turn to leave but then I remember- there’s a little something in my bag I’ve been hangin' on to. I dig through all my crap and find it in the inside pocket. Awesome. Screw consciousness, I’m gettin’ high.

~*~

I hear footfalls against the ceiling - one of them’s awake. It could be Sam, but I know it’s Dean - I know his stride, his tread. And I also know Sam conceded to the pain and downed an extra dose of Percocet, so he’s all but dead to the world for the next six hours.

We all have problems sleeping, each have our lion’s share of blood-and- gore-laden nightmares, but Dean’s always seem worse. They take a bigger toll on him. He wakes up screaming more often, drenched in a cold sweat with his sheets flung from the bed. Sometimes I hear him shouting in the middle of the night and it breaks my fucking heart.

Maybe I’ll go see if he’s alright, if there’s anything I can do for him... I hope he’s not still pissed at me for what happened on the hunt. Sam told me it was just because I’d scared him, because he cares about me, that it’s just easier for Dean to blow up instead of break down. But dammit I wish he’d open up, just a little. There were a couple of nights he and I had spent just hanging out together, nights where whiskey was flowing and secrets were shared...but right when it seemed like he was going to let me in on what was really going on in his head, he’d stopped himself, drained his glass, and said goodnight.

I know what he’s been through. Or rather, I know of what he's been through. It would be sacrilege for me to even try to begin to empathize. I know about things he’s done, his devils and deeds that are unforgivable in most circles but necessary in ours.

Dean is a good man. Everything he’s done has been a labor of love, a sacrifice. I know he doubts himself constantly and I know he hurts, vehemently and deeply. But if he’d just let me in, if I could love him the way he deserves, I’d do anything and everything I could to take all that pain and somehow dull it. Sometimes I can actually get a smile out of him and it’s one of the most marvelous things I’ve ever seen - when the corners of his green eyes crinkle and his teeth peek out from behind those ridiculously perfect lips...god, it’s beautiful. He is beautiful, inside and out and I wish he could see that.

Now I’m wide awake. My tea’s gone cold, and I’ve spent too much time wallowing in these thoughts that shouldn’t be wallowed in, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I glance out a window and watch the now steadily falling snow, listen to the wind whip and whistle through the frigid night air. Sitting here in the dark alone with all of these thoughts has become too lonely. There’s a room upstairs, a little den with a couple of chairs and one of those huge console record players...I’ll grab that book I’ve been meaning to read and hang out in there, let some music fill the quiet and the story busy my brain.

I take my mug to the kitchen, place it in the sink, and pull Dean’s flannel around me tighter. Hopefully, he won’t mind if I borrow it for the night. This way, I can be close to him without ruining things.

Music echoes down the staircase and I recognize the tune as I get closer to its source. Bob Dylan. Nashville Skyline, I think. Dim, golden light beckons me to follow and leads me to a doorway. I look down and find him lying on the floor, with his ankles crossed, and one arm bent behind his head, blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Hey,” I whisper, and he turns his face toward me, looking up at me with mellow eyes and an easygoing smile.

“Hey yourself. Can’t sleep?”

I shake my head. “Thought I’d come in here and check out Donna’s music collection. But I see you had the same idea, so -”

“So? Come on in, stay awhile.” He pats the floor beside him, then holds up the joint fastened between his fingers. “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.”

I should really go, leave him to his own devices, avoid torturing myself. But before reason has any chance to intervene, I find myself lying next to him. He’s more of a drug to me than the smoke I’m sucking through my lips. I want to stay away, I should stay away, but I can’t fucking help myself. So like a good little junkie I give in, tell myself this is no big deal, that I can go back to not thinking about him tomorrow.

~*~

I’m so glad she decided to stay.

I don’t know if it’s the weed or the cold, dark night or what it is, but when I saw her standing there, all I wanted was to just have her near me. Even if all I get to do is hear her voice or just feel her presence next to me...well, I’ll take it. It’s not like this anything new, we’ve hung out like this plenty of times...though it’s times like this when I get so comfortable around her, that I really gotta reign it in and make sure I keep my damn mouth shut. And it never seems to get easier - like right now. She’s humming along to the music, making up her own words here and there and playing air guitar and it’s friggin’ adorable. She really is one in a million and if things were different, I’d hold on to her and never let go.

Somethin’ Sam said a while back pops into my head - somethin’ about finding someone who knows the life - and for a second I think maybe things don’t need to be different. Maybe we could make it work. But then I remember I’m toxic. Even for a hunter I drink too much, have too many fucked up thoughts, done way too many fucked up things. No, she deserves someone good, someone better than me. I can’t even believe she’s stuck around for this long. Sometimes I just look at her and wanna scream, “run”, before she gets hurt. I’ve accepted that I’ll never get the happily ever after but she shouldn’t. She can still get out, have a real life, meet someone who’ll give her everything and make her happy. Never in my life will I be able to give that to anyone - it just ain’t in the cards for me.

Then she looks at me, passes me the joint with this sweet smile, and all those thoughts just fade away. And I wonder - like I wonder almost every night - how her lips would feel against mine.

Sam keeps tellin’ me that I’m an idiot, that she really likes me, that I should go for it. And for a minute, I actually think about it, cause the way she’s lookin’ at me right now is downright incredible - she actually looks happy to be here, with me.

Is she?

Truth is I'm selfish. And a bit of a coward. I'm too afraid to love anyone because I'm too afraid to lose them. Everyone I've ever lost took a piece of me with them and I ain't got much left. If anything ever happened to YN, I’d be done. She’d take the last of me.

I’m feelin’ a little goofy. Not stoned or anything, but definitely running out of fucks to give. Then I glance at her and notice she’s wiggling out of her button-down.. .my button-down. She rolls it up, tucks it beneath her head, and stretches back out on the floor. Her tank top is creeping up over her stomach a little bit, and it’s stretched tight over her tits and she’s got nothin’ on underneath…

I swallow hard and bite down on my lip cause I’m this close to just flat-out telling her I love her.

~*~

Part of me wants to tell Donna she desperately needs to redecorate this room...but the other, the part of me that's stretched out on the floor, listening to classic 33s and getting high with Dean, is perfectly content with the old-school kitsch. The shag carpeting we’re laying on is surprisingly comfortable; The color (what is this, ocher? Chartreuse?) - shouldn’t be allowed to exist, but the long polyester threads sprawling beneath us are soothing in a way. The light is low, flickering from two vintage oil lamps that stand on each end of the console, and casts shadows beneath its warm glow.

Dean looks like he’s about to say something, but the last song has ended and skipped into a static scratch. He hoists himself up to flip the record, and I perch on my elbows and just...admire him. He’s different here. I’ve seen him lounge around the bunker during downtime but tonight he actually seems powered-down, carefree. There's something almost magical about what the calm does to him, how it lifts the weight he carries. His shoulders are relaxed, his movements languid, unhurried and uncalculated, eyes bright and serene. And he looks so fucking good, wearing a well-worn and well-fitting Zeppelin t-shirt that he must've had since before he’d built up his muscle. Softened and faded jeans cover his bowed legs and hang low on his hips, and I don’t think he’s got anything on underneath because I get a glimpse at the cut of his abs and...

I wish I could tell him how amazing he is, how much he makes me smile, how much I love him; I wish I could show him, hold him, kiss him and just love him with everything I have...

The music starts back up and oh my god… he’s dancing. It’s really more of a slow-motion Elvis maneuver, but it’s the closest thing to dancing I’ve ever seen Dean do. Every tick of his hips pulls the fabric of his jeans perfectly across his ass, and I shouldn't be thinking about him this way but he’s just so mesmerizing…

And then he turns and faces me with his best impression of his best Bob Dylan.

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed...

I throw my head back and laugh, not because he’s being ridiculous, but because he’s being so goddamn perfect. And the joy I thought I’d lost the day I cocked my first shotgun is bubbling up and making me giddy. Or it’s him. Or it could just be the pot. This is a side of him that no one gets to see, not even his brother. I can give him this, a place to let go of it all and just be Dean Winchester for a little while. He’s easy here, content, and he actually seems happy that I decided to stay.

Is he?

He claims his spot beside me again, settling in just a little closer. He's still singing to me and I'm still giggling…

Whatever colors you have in your mind

I show them to you and you see them shine

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Somehow his hand found mine, and he's tracing my knuckles with one calloused fingertip. I take it in mine and glance down at the connection, marveling at how small my hand is in his but how perfectly it fits. His hand is so gentle, warm and solid...it’s hard to believe how often his palm has bled, how many triggers his fingers have pulled, how many bones his fist has shattered.

He shifts, rolls to his side, and gazes down at me while he keeps up his serenade.

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

Until the break of day

Let me see you make him smile

I grin as he brushes my hair from my face, tucks a few strands behind my ear, winds a section around his fingers. Then I see something in his face that’s never been there before - a shade of color reflecting from his eyes that's deep and rich and vibrant…

His clothes are dirty but his, his hands are clean

And you are the best thing that he's ever seen

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

The way he's muttering the lyrics...it’s so sincere, like he means every single word. The warmth of his body is just out of my reach, and the low timbre of his voice begins to resonate through my veins, nestling into a locked corner of my soul.

Why wait any longer for the world to begin

You can have your cake and eat it too

Why wait any longer for the one you love

When he's standing in front of you

He’s still playing with my hair, pushing any stray strands from my face…my eyes flutter closed and his touch becomes something warmer, softer. Delicate, intentional kisses pepper my cheekbones, my temples, my forehead...

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

I feel his thumb and forefinger catch and tilt my chin, and I open my eyes. He’s so close now, close enough that if I rolled on my side I’d roll into him, that if I lifted my head just an inch...

I long to see you in the morning light

I long to reach for you in the night

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

The silent formation of the last few lyrics are the first thing I feel and then his lips are fully on mine, barely grasped between his and I've never felt something so tender and genuine carry itself with so much force. He's cradling my cheek and his kiss feels tentative, uncertain - but at the same time teeming with need, as though he’s waiting for my approval while praying with everything he’s got that I’ll grant it. So I lean into him, slide my fingers along the short hairs on the back of his neck, and pull him closer.

~*~

Maybe it was the weed, the music, the way the light reflected off her… whatever it was, it just took over. She looked too soft and too damn perfect, layin’ there and smiling that smile. And I thought about the other day when she was lying unconscious on that blood-stained, concrete floor, and the way my guts twisted at the thought of losing her…

I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I couldn't go one more night without telling her exactly how much she means to me. And it was a cheesy way to do it, singing to her like that, but Bob knew all the right things to say.

I actually can't even believe she's kissing me right now, that she pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. Part of me thinks she's nuts - she's gotta know I got nothing to offer her, that she deserves so much better- better than me, better than this life. I can’t promise her anything - can’t promise a future or comfort... but if she lets me, I can promise to love her, to kiss her with everything I’ve got every chance I get, to hold her close and protect her... even if it’s just for tonight.

She makes a little sound and arches her body into mine. I don’t know how far this is gonna go, but I’ll take my time getting there. This may just be a fluke, a one-time thing. Or maybe it’s not, maybe I’m the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet...either way, I want to savor every second.

I keep the kisses slow, open-mouthed and gentle. But then I feel her tongue slide along my lower lip and I can’t help but slip mine against hers. This feels so good, just kissing her like this, tasting her and feeling her beneath me. She’s running her fingers through my hair, rolling her hips every now and then, sliding her hand down my side and across my back. I kiss her harder, deeper. She’s moving more, breathing faster, making these quiet little whimpers. I break away and look at her, smoothing some of her hair away from her beautiful face. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are half-closed and right at this moment she could ask me to shoot the moon and I’d kill it dead.

Her hand brushes my cheek and she pushes into me, silently begging me to keep going.

“You sure?” I whisper in her ear, kissing the space just behind it.

She nods and mutters “please,” and I move my lips down her neck. Her body trembles when I land on the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder - I give her skin there a little nip and she gasps... fuck, I need to hear that sound over and over. I’m gonna map her entire body, figure out just the right way to touch her. Run my hands over every point, plane and curve, find every spot that makes her moan and quiver and sigh. I wanna drown, lose myself in her. I want her to know that I know how special she is, that I get how lucky I am to be with her tonight, that I understand what she’s giving me. I kneel between her legs, take hold of her wrists, and slowly push her arms above her head.

I need to see and feel and taste every single inch of her and I’m not gonna be quick about it.

~*~

First kisses are usually awkward. Heads bump, teeth collide, hands float and fumble while they try to find a comfortable place to land.

So I don’t know if it’s dumb luck, or just that I’ve practiced this so many times in my mind, but we find a rhythm instantly and we fit, like we’ve known all along exactly how to kiss each other. It’s so perfect that I almost laugh out loud, dumbfounded that I ever thought that we shouldn’t do this. Our kiss is absolute, passionate and all-consuming, and sending every neuron in my brain firing into a tailspin.

I never want to stop kissing him.

My arms are above my head and he's teasing me, softly kneading my breasts over my top, flicking at the stiff peaks of my nipples. I lower my hands to pull at our shirts, to let him know I need to feel his touch on my bare skin, but he gently curls his fingers around my wrists again and guides them back up.

"Let me," he murmurs, sliding his palm down my breastbone, over my stomach and finally beneath my top. “Just... let me…”

Right as he cups my breast and traps my nipple between his fingers he’s kissing me again, swallowing every sound he’s pulling from me. I melt into him, into his kiss, into his touch. He pushes my tank top over my head and then his lips are on my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders. My forearms and fingers are dotted with kisses, along with my hips and navel, and then he’s peeling off my leggings, never once taking his eyes off of me. I’m completely bare beneath him and he’s biting his lower lip, running his hands from each of my ankles to my calves, my knees, my thighs...he looks as though he can’t decide if he wants to ravish me or revere me.

He settles for a smooth, easy assault, touching and kissing me everywhere, lingering whenever I cry out or sigh. I’ve never felt like this, never felt so...worshipped. His fingers and lips glide along my body as though I’m a delicate thing - carefully, thoroughly, and completely. My skin feels taut, chilled and tingling, but my blood is pumping hot and fast beneath. And when his tongue swirls around my nipple, and he takes it between his teeth, I swear to god I’d come right now if he told me to.

I know I’m wet, I can feel it, hot and dripping and my cunt is clenching, clit throbbing with a deep, insistent ache that almost hurts. Dean is everywhere, exploring and marking and claiming, until I hear myself begging, pleading...I need to feel him inside of me. I need him to unravel me, to make me come undone.

~*~

The way she looks right now is so goddamn glorious, she doesn’t seem real. She’s ruddy and glowing, twisting beneath me, chanting my name and begging with kiss-swollen lips. I let my hand slide between her legs, run a finger between her folds and christ - she is so fucking wet. She lifts her knees and spreads wide open for me and I dip just the tip of one finger inside. She ruts forward and I push two fingers all the way into her tight, hot pussy and fucking hell, she feels smoother than silk. I keep it slow, steady, loving the way her eyes roll back when I flick my thumb over her clit, and the way her tongue darts between her parted lips as I twist my fingers inside her cunt, searching for that spot...

Her eyes go wide when I find it, and her neck arches back and her hands fist the carpet. She’s quietly moaning and cursing and pushing herself down, fucking herself on my fingers. I catch her scent and some animal urge takes over me; I pull my fingers from her, bring them to my mouth and suck them clean. She's like fucking nectar and I’ve never tasted anything so good and all I want is more…

I pull my shirt over my head, push my jeans off, press her thighs as far open as she can spread them - god, her pussy is perfect, so pink and slick - and take a long, slow taste. She moans, low and long, breathing out a desperate “fuck, yes…” as she cards her fingers through my hair. And I growl, I fucking growl like a goddamn dog, and drive my tongue into her dripping hole. She hooks one leg over my shoulder and tilts her hips and I grab on to her ass and hold her up. I lick her deep, thrusting and flicking and swirling my tongue, filling my mouth with the flavor of her, then I peer up at her and...My. Fucking. God, she’s a vision. She’s shaking, twitching and gasping when my nose bumps her clit...

I slip my tongue from her cunt, ease her down and spread her open with my fingers, lapping at her folds, her entrance, her clit. Then I take that sensitive little bud between my lips and suck and holy shit, the fucking sound she makes...I gotta make her come. I need to see it, feel it, hear it.

But first I drag my mouth up her body, stopping to nip at her neck before landing on her lips. She licks into my mouth instantly, sucks at my lower lip, pushes her tongue against mine and I can tell she’s about to lose her mind.

~*~

I'd been in more than one motel room next to Dean's. And I'd always rolled my eyes, convinced that whatever girl he'd brought back with him was just putting on a show, playing porn star with their over-the-top wailing.

They weren't screaming loud enough.

“Can you taste yourself, baby?” he purrs between kisses, "You taste how fuckin' delectable your pussy is? So hot and sweet...” and I moan into his mouth. He slips his fingers back inside and curls them, nudging my sweet spot. “Want you come, YN…wanna make you fall apart..."

I'm biting my lip to keep from crying out too loudly, stifling the urge to scream because the pleasure he's giving me is so complete and consuming. I swear he knows my body better than I do. He's found places on me and inside of me that feel like they've never been touched until tonight. I'd thought maybe I was hypersensitive, so eager and thrilled that this was finally happening, but no - everything he does is deliberate. He finds a spot and knows whether to bite or kiss, push or pull, grind or slide, when to do it all at once or not at all. Every touch, every stroke sparks my nerves and ignites my cells and I'm down to my last fragments of control. I am utterly at his mercy, reduced to a writhing, wanton mess as his fingers slide inside of me, hitting my g-spot with incredible marksmanship. Then his lips land on my clit again, and...oh God. Oh my fucking god…

It starts in my belly, a molten heat simmering in my core, wavering a scant wavelength away from a fever pitch. It’s hot and thrumming and growing in speed and intensity until it can't be contained anymore. It bolts through me, hot and hard like an electric current and I go rigid as I come, the torrents of bliss saturating every molecule of my body. And then Dean is up on his knees, three fingers deep in my sodden cunt, his other hand laying flat on my lower stomach and muttering "Come on baby,...let go…let go for me…" Either I'm still coming or I'm coming again, hard and completely, and a quiet pull snaps from someplace deep inside... I completely shatter, so stunned with the sensation that I open my mouth in a silent scream as my cum splashes against his hand.

~*~

I tuck back down between her legs and softly lap at the stray drops sticking to her thighs. I’m about to go crazy - I’m hungry, starving for her, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard in my life.

I lay beside her, trace shapes on her collarbone, and watch her as she comes down - the way her tits rise and fall with every breath, the way her throat flexes when she swallows, the way the lamplight dances off her sweat-sheened skin. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly opened, and her tongue sneaks out every now and then across her lips. Of all the ways I’ve ever seen YN, this has to be the absolute, bar-none best. She’s like a living statue or a painting, some kind of work of art. A goddamn masterpiece.

I don’t want to stop touching her. Right now, I don’t even think I could. She shudders and opens her eyes when I gently trace a wet finger along her cheek. Then she grabs my wrist, pulls my hand to her mouth, and wraps her lips around the fingers I used to fuck her. She sucks and licks, and all I can do is groan as my fingers slide along her tongue. I gotta distract myself or I’m gonna shoot off right now like a teenager…

I take my fingers back and move to hover over her, and catch her lips in mine again. Kissing her is so...it just feels right. Like hers are the only lips I ever need to kiss again. If this is all we do for the rest of the night - hell, for the rest of our lives, I’d be one hundred percent happy. But as we kiss, she starts to whimper, moan...and then I feel her fingertips skitter down my torso and brush against my cock. And I can’t help it, I grunt out a “fuck, YN” and chase her touch. She drags her thumb, then her palm against the tip of my dick, smears precome around my shaft then wraps me in her fingers. I bite my lip and rock into her fist while she strokes me, trying like hell not to lose it any time she gives the slightest squeeze. I can feel her breath on my face and I’m starting to fall into the rhythm, getting lost in her touch and the heat of her body beneath me…

Then in the flash of a second, she hooks a leg around my waist, shifts her weight and turns, and has me on my back. She's straddling me, and I watch her slick pussy drag along my cock while my hands slide up her thighs and grip her hips. My eyes wander, slowly, up her body, marveling at her shape and color and just the mere sight of her swaying over me. My eyes meet hers and then...I'm trapped. Hypnotized. Being here with this woman is like nothing I've ever seen or felt before, and there's some part of me that knows I'll never feel this way about anyone ever again.

~*~

My gaze meets his and I'm struck...with exactly what, I don't know. It's thrilling and terrifying at the same time but most of all it's certain; This is exactly where I'm meant to be, astride this beautiful man who’s lying beneath me, stripped of all his layers, and I can feel the moment he surrenders. His mind and his body, his control and his chaos, his pleasure and his pain, all together unfettered and unfurled.

Potent and fervent primal desire sets in and overtakes me; I want to claim him, feel his skin between my teeth, taste the salt of his sweat.

I shift to my knees, slot myself between his open legs and lean forward, pressing myself against the solid heat of his bare chest, and catch his lips in a quick but ravenous kiss. He tries to chase it but I pull away, letting one hand slide up his sternum, splaying my fingers over his throat. I fist his hard, dripping cock in my free hand and stroke. He breathes out my name with a curse and his head hits the floor as my mouth latches on to his neck.

Releasing my hold on him, my lips move from his neck to his collarbone, down and across his chest, following the blueprint of bruises, scratches, and scars until my nose brushes against the thatch of dark hair between his legs.

I flatten my tongue and lick his thick cock from base to tip, then take just the crown between my lips and gently suck. The taste of his precome fills my mouth and he moans and trembles, exhaling a long, deeply held breath as he laces his fingers in my hair. I take him all the way then, as far as I can, until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I hold him there and swallow, let him feel the soft flex around his shaft. I slide up and down slowly, stroking the inches that can’t slide down my throat with one hand, and cup his balls in the other. He whimpers, high-pitched and desperate, and the mere sound of that sends drops of arousal trickling down my thighs while my cunt clenches and quivers. His grip on my head tightens and I keep steady, caressing and taking him deep, and let the tip of one finger press against his perineum.

His body tenses and I peer up at him - the muscles of his abs are twitching, his neck is arched back, the tendons there strained and taut, jaw clenched, and teeth bared...he’s holding back, trying not to come. He hisses out a breath and gently tugs my hair, urging me to let him slip from my mouth. “Fuck, YN”, he breathes, and I walk my hands alongside of him, gliding my body against his and brush his lips with a gossamer kiss.

We both breathe hard, panting, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, hips rolling, hearts racing. His hard, thick length is sliding against the soaked lips of my pussy, the head of his cock nudging my throbbing clit. I look into the dark forest of his eyes, he places his hand on my cheek and suddenly there’s a surge - a swift and commanding energy that surrounds us, tangible and unconditional.

Our gaze locks as I raise my hips. He grips his cock, lines up at my entrance, and I sink down slowly, relishing every inch that stretches me open, my moan echoing his until I’m completely filled with him.

~*~

It’s almost too much.

She’s so warm, so wet, and so fucking tight...I swear I blackout for a second. It’s taking everything I got to hold on, and every ounce of control I can muster when she starts to move.

She’s groaning and sighing, and the way she’s breathing my name is like a siren’s song. I let her set the pace, tilt my hips to push into her as she rides me, find her hand and lace my fingers through hers. She fucks me slow, lets her head fall back and lays her free hand on my chest. Reaching up, I slide my hand between her tits, pinch and tug one nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she lets out the most beautiful cry I’ve ever heard. And that sound wakes up the damn animal in me and I thrust into her, as deep as I can. I want her to fucking explode, feel her cunt throbbing tight around my dick and soaking me with her cum.

She pulls her hand from mine and moves it between her legs. I pinch her nipple again and she gasps as her body trembles, and I know she’s getting close. “Gonna come for me, YN?” I snarl, and she stills - her head falls back again and her fingers work faster, and I’m so caught up in her that I just start babbling. “Fuck yeah, YN, fucking come all over my cock…that’s my girl...” I pound into her faster as she gets tighter and wetter and then I feel it, her walls clenching and her cum dripping, her body finally going rigid as her orgasm tears through her.

I slow down and ease her through it, trace my fingertips over the curves of her glowing body and take in how absolutely stunning she is right now - her hair all mussed and tangled, her skin flushed pink, her lips bright red and swollen. Her eyes open and she grins down at me, the lazy roll of her hips picking up speed and I just...fucking...can't anymore.

I throw my arms around her and pull her against me, kissing her sweet lips as I roll us over. She arches into me, takes my face in her hands and purrs "...want it all inside me...I wanna feel your cum dripping from my cunt…" and holy goddamn shit, I'm gonna give her everything she wants.

She raises her knees and hooks her legs around mine, digs her heels into the back of my thighs, squeezes the walls of her pussy around me and I’m gone - all I feel is her silky wet heat, and all I can smell and taste is her sex and I drive in, fast and steady until I can’t hang on anymore. I let go and my world stops, every living fiber of my being at a standstill as I come with a shout. I thrust hard and deep and spill every drop inside of her, pumping her full as she fingers herself to another climax.

I rest my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath. She curls one hand around my waist and the other around the back of my shoulder, raking her fingernails gently along the base of my scalp. I kiss her, soft and quick, and pull out of her, rolling on to my back while I gather her in my arms.

I glance out the window. The snow’s still falling and the sun’ll start rising soon. The record is long over and skipping, and YN grips me tighter and shivers. “Hey, sweetheart...let me up,” I say, kissing her forehead. She groans but lets me go and I sit up, lean down to kiss her again and hop to my feet. I lift the needle off the record and find a quilt that’s tossed over one of the chairs. YN's curled on her side, and I can hardly wait to get back to her. I cover us both, pull her close, and I stare at her until I just can't keep my eyes open anymore. We drift off in each other’s arms and the last thought I think is a little prayer - that this is how I’ll fall asleep every night for the rest of my life.

~*~

I can’t remember who said it first. All I know is that it was suddenly there, as though it always had been, free falling from our lips as we moved and moaned and came together.

We’d awoken several times, one of us roused by a kiss or touch from the other, neither of us willing nor able to let it end without making love one more time.

The storm has finally passed. Sunshine beams across an azure sky and reflects with blinding brilliance off acres of freshly fallen snow. I peek out the kitchen window and catch a glimpse of Sam standing near the garage, up to his knees in icy white powder.

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

“Look like we ain’t goin' anywhere any time soon,” Dean says, coming up behind me and circling his arms around me. He moves my hair away from my neck and nips at the exposed skin.

I lean against him and cover his clasped hands with mine. “Can’t say I’m all that disappointed.”

He hums and kisses my cheek, then moves his hands to rest on the swell of my belly.

“Your old man's gonna teach you how to make the best snowballs, kid. Knock your Uncle Sammy right off his ass.”

I giggle and spin around, draping my arms over Dean’s shoulders. “Big talk coming from the man who got a black eye during last year’s snowball fight.”

“That was a fluke. She had an unfair advantage.”

"She's less than half your size!”

“Exactly.”

The door opens and Sam trudges in, shaking and stomping the snow from his legs, laughing as he's nearly knocked over by a whirling, bright pink dervish of weatherproof polyester.

Our daughter runs over to us, cheeks rosy and nose runny from the cold, her apple-green eyes as big as sledding saucers.

“Mommy, Daddy, guess what?! We had a snowball fight and I won!”

“Ho ho! That’s my awesome little girl!” Dean cheers, scooping her up in his arms and swinging her through the air. He rests her on his hip, and they trade an Eskimo kiss. “Let’s go tell your Auntie Eileen and your baby cousin all about how you kicked your Uncle Sammy’s a - uh, butt.”

He sets her down and helps her unlace her boots while she tosses her hat and mittens to the floor. “Yeah, I kicked his ass!” she beams, and the three supposed adults in the room have to bite back their laughter.

“Yep,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Definitely a Winchester. No two ways...”

Once she's out of her boots and winter overall, she runs to Sam, grabs his thumb with her small hand and pulls him through the kitchen. Her tiny footsteps pelt up the stairs, layered with gleeful giggles. Then, with all the vivacity of her five years, she shrieks in triumph, “I beat you again, Uncle Sammy! I win again!”

Dean grins wide, pulls me back into his arms, and catches my lips in a kiss that teems with the same intense passion as the first one he ever gave me. And in seconds I’m melting, into his kiss, into him... into memories of a snowstorm and shag carpeting, the smoke of purple kush and the flicker of oil lamp flames, the pedal steel guitar riff of Lay Lady Lay and Dean’s hip-swaying serenade...

He breaks away, brushes a section of my hair away from my brow and tucks it behind my ear. Then he looks into my eyes with unwavering conviction and repeats the promise he’s made me every day since he took my hand in his - a promise that's as simple as it is complex, selfish yet altruistic, sometimes dubious but always definite, and anything and everything in between:

“I love you, YN.”

~Fin

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years

Text

Surprise – Howlin’ For You – One Shot

Description: Bucky forgets it’s his birthday. But his wife and kids aren’t going to let that slide.

Pairing: AU - Biker!Bucky x Fem/Reader

Howlin’ For You - Masterlist

Read the series or you will not know what the fuck is happening.

Bucky was so tired that a part of him was worried about getting home on a motorcycle without falling asleep.

It was like the universe was torturing him with the day that he had. It seemed as if every customer he had to deal with at the shop today was a privileged asshole. All of them either pretended like they knew more about auto mechanics than him or yelled at him for the very reasonable pricing he gave them on their vehicles.

Customer service had always been the thing Bucky hated most about running his own shop. He tried to avoid dealing with customers at all cost. Steve was much more patient than he was – most of the crew was.

But the whole reason they’d created the shop in the first place was to offer people realistic prices and to not rip off naive and unassuming customers.

Now Bucky was mentally and emotionally exhausted.

He’d sent a text to Y/N earlier, telling her how he’d become more and more irritated from work as the day went on.

She sent her support and promised she’d try to cheer him up when he got home.

Bucky immediately brought the conversation to more risqué suggestions, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

He also knew that a few minutes with his kids and he’d cheer up. Amelia would want to cuddle with him or the twins would show him their new model cars they built with so much enthusiasm that he wouldn’t be able to help but feel better.

When Bucky walked through the door, his shoulders immediately relaxed. He gave most of the credit to Y/N for making their house an oasis of comfort and warmth.

But then he noticed how oddly quiet the house was, which was a rarity with a 5-year-old daughter and 9-year-old, rambunctious twins.

“Doll?” He called out.

Suddenly Amelia came running to him, slamming into his legs with her tiny body.

“There’s my girl,” Bucky chuckled as he lifted her up to hold her.

She was already growing up so fast that he knew carrying her around could end at any moment – more from her not wanting him to than her becoming too big.

“Where is your pretty mama and your crazy brothers, huh?” He asked her after giving her cheek a kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulders.

“They told me to come get you,” she informed him.

“Oh, yeah? What for?”

Amelia giggled. “It’s a secret,” she whispered.

“A secret? Sounds like trouble.” But now Bucky was getting a little suspicious. “Is this hide and seek? Are you here to help me find them?”

Amelia giggled again and shook her head. “No, silly. Th-They told me to say…ummm…” She was now have trouble battling the short-term memory that came with being 5 years old.

“Told you to say what, babydoll?” He encouraged her softly.

She smiled, not seeming to care that she wasn’t doing a good job of giving him the message. “The backyard,” she laughed.

“I’m supposed to go to the backyard,” Bucky confirmed with a slow nod.

Then he kissed her head. “Alright. Let’s go to the backyard.”

Bucky assumed the twins had Y/N hostage, showing her everything about the new dirt bike he’d brought home for them just a few days ago. While Y/N didn’t know nor care much about the mechanics, like her sons and daughter, she humored them by nodding and oohing and aahing at the right parts.

As soon as they were close to the door that led out to the patio and backyard, Bucky was surprised he couldn’t hear the twins talking Y/N’s ear off. Also the lights were off, making it hard to see anything through the windows of the house.

When Bucky pulled the door open, he was met with the backyard lights turning on and a crowd screaming, “Surprise!”

On instinct alone, he turned his body a bit so Amelia was shielded. But he quickly recovered, steadying his breathing and realizing neither he nor his daughter were in any immediate danger.

The whole week of work, specifically today, had been so hectic and stressful that Bucky kept forgetting his birthday was just around the corner.

Now he was facing what looked to be every person he’d ever met in his life.

All of the Howlies were laughing and cheering at his arrival. Someone had already started up the music again. People were talking amongst themselves now that the surprise had been delivered.

Grayson and Owen came running out of the crowd, Y/N slowly walking behind them with a warm smile.

“Were you surprised, dad?” The twins both asked excitedly.

“Sure was,” he laughed as he mess up both of their hair.

“Did you spoil the surprise, Amelia?” Grayson asked his little sister, who was still in her dads arms. His eyes were filled with suspicion.

She glared and shook her head before nuzzling closer to her father.

“No, she didn’t ruin anything. She could be a spy,” Bucky defended.

Now Y/N had made her way to them.

“You,” he playfully glared at his wife. “Come here.” She laughed and stepped closer, earning a kiss from him. “You plan all this for me, troublemaker?”

She barely pulled away from his lips, “Maybe.”

“Thank you, doll. You didn’t have to do this.”

Y/N shrugged. “I was just a little worried after you told me how bad your day was going. I thought maybe this would be all be too much.”

“Of course not,” he assured her.

He moved her lips to his ear. “I’m sorry about the lights and screaming, I tried to tell them not to do it. But everyone was really committed already,” Y/N muttered to him so no one else could hear, proving that she caught how he’d reacted to the surprise.

He kissed her again. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

Even after all these years, Bucky was still amazed at how well they could read each other.

Then Y/N grabbed Amelia from his arms. “Now, I’ll take this one, because you got a lot of people who want to wish you a happy birthday.”

As soon as Y/N stepped away and took the kids with her, Bucky was bombarded with people giving him hugs and saying hi.

All of the Howlies were there, along with their partners and kids. He spotted his mom and sister talking to Y/N’s family. Some of Y/N’s friends who had become Bucky’s friends were there too. It was like their usual Howlie gatherings – but magnified and with all the attention on Bucky.

He could’ve gone without the attention, but he enjoyed having all the important people in his life all in one place.

An hour later, he found Steve running the grill.

“Alright, punk, I know you were responsible for this too,” Bucky growled.

They’d just seen each other at the garage a few hours ago.

“I may have helped a bit,” Steve confessed through a mischievous smile.

“How’d you all keep it a secret? Especially, Sam – that idiot can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“I fucking heard that!” Sam shouted from over Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky laughed and gave Sam an unapologetic shrug.

“That wife of yours did most of the work. I felt like I was back in the military with the way she had everything organized and dished out jobs to all of us.”

Bucky laughed at that, picturing Y/N giving out orders to his biker gang.

Hours later, Y/N had put the kids to bed and the adults really got down to celebrating.

She was starting to get worried with the amount of shots and drinks people were thrusting onto Bucky. The man could hold his alcohol, but he was still just a human.

“I’m going to end up carrying that man to bed, aren’t I?” Y/N asked Sam and Nat as they sat around a fire.

The three of them drew their attention to Thor and Clint who were shoving another shot onto Bucky.

“Make him find his own way to the couch,” Sam chuckled.

“This is why you’d make a bad boyfriend,” Nat smirked.

“What?” Sam yelled. “I’m a great boyfriend!”

“Yeah?” Nat asked. “Where’s your girlfriend now? Oh, yeah, you don’t have one…”

Lo and behold, Y/N did have to practically drag her drunk husband to their bedroom.

Some of the Howlies who were more sober offered to stay back and help clean up. Even when Y/N turned them down, they ignored her and started getting to work. She wouldn’t be surprised if she came downstairs tomorrow morning to find her house cleaner than it was before the party.

Bucky’s arm was around Y/N’s shoulder as she navigated him through their home.

“You’re the best wife anyone in the world could ever have,” Bucky slurred to her.

Y/N laughed, “I am?”

“Of course.”

“OK. Well, your wife needs some help on your end to get you up these stairs.”

And to his credit, he made it up them without requiring much of Y/N’s help.

When they got to his bedroom, he flopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Y/N started unlacing his foots and taking off his jeans.

“Shirt to bed or no shirt?” She asked him.

“No shirt!”

She smiled at him. “Shorts or sleeping in just your briefs?”

“Briefs!”

Y/N nodded.

“Well, I was planning on ending the night with more fun. But I don’t think you’re exactly in the right state for that…” She teased him.

Bucky chuckled. “Probably for the best.”

He was currently fighting the spins. So, as much as he wanted to have sex with his beautiful and sexy wife, it probably wouldn’t end well for him.

Y/N went to take off her makeup, wash her face, and brush her teeth.

She found one of Bucky’s old t-shirts and threw it on, forgoing any type of short or pants.

“Come here, doll.” Bucky demanded, sounding far more sober than he should.

“Are you gonna behave?” Y/N asked him as she pointed a finger at him.

“Yes, ma’am. I just want cuddles.” Then he smiled like a goof. “It’s my birthday, so I get what I want.”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head at him, but did as he requested and climbed into bed with him. Bucky instantly pulled her on top of his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

“Thank you for tonight,” he sighed and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m glad you had fun.”

“I love you, Y/N.” His voice proving that he was just moments away from passing out.

“Love you too, Buck.”

And barely 30 seconds later, Y/N’s ears were filled with Bucky’s drunken snores.

----------------

Thank you to the anon who sent this in and inspired me. Let me know what you guys think :)

#howlin' for you #howlin' for you drabbles #howlin' for you one shots #biker!bucky #biker!bucky x reader #dad!biker!bucky #owen barnes #grayson barnes #biker!dad!bucky #amelia barnes

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