unicornspwnall · a day ago
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thelastharbinger · a day ago
Tenoch Huerta on why the idea that “hard work always reaps its rewards” isn’t true. Talent and hard work alone doesn’t guarantee entry into certain spaces (you’ll always be sidelined even when you’re included), but it will determine your longevity once you force your way in.
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risingoftime · 2 days ago
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𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 | 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖗
summary: Namor can't help himself when he fantasizes about you and the night you spent together. The God is clouded by desire and needs, as you're the only one who's ignited a fire within him. If he can't have you, he'll create a world where it's possible, even if it's in his mind.
word count: 0.6k (a tease I know)
warnings: smut, masturbation, hand jobs, forbidden lust, risky behaviour, needy!Namor, mentions past p in v. namor pov.
18+ | minors do not interact
➴ feel free to send me more thots
I have lived decades upon decades and have never found a woman who kept me on my toes like her. I’ve grown lonely and impatient. Death has been a never-ending theme in these forsaken waters, outliving everyone I’ve ever loved. She showed me that there is more beyond the surface. I was plagued by the memories of last night and the sound of my name rolling off of her tongue. I found myself throbbing, needing to feel her lips pressed against my skin. I took my length in my hands, stroking myself in slow motions, imagining how it would feel to have her lips wrapped around it. I felt my erection grow hard and heavy at the thought.
With a frustrated sigh, I sat on my bed with my legs parted slightly, biting back a rising moan as the roughness of my palm drove me to sweet insanity. I couldn’t resist the visions of her sucking and gagging, kneeling before me. I was thrusting against my own touch with the same desperation from the night before. The rush of heat runs through me at the thought of taking her to my bed and making love to her endlessly. Fantasizing about the noises and faces that she might make sent me over the edge. I stiffened my grip around my dick, allowing myself to embrace the friction as I raised my hips to grind against my hand. I settled into a regular rhythm, imagining her tight walls instead of my palms.
“Oh fuck” I emitted a low moan as I wiped off the thin coat of wetness from the tip. I felt as if my body was on fire, and the calm waters didn’t subside my body’s desires.
Namor began breathing heavily, curling his toes as flashes of her face clouded his mind. His pace went faster, moving his hand up and down while slightly squeezing his shaft. Namor thought of her skin that glistened against the moonlight and stars. Her lips parted slightly as she pushed her hips against his. He imagined her soft pussy getting wet just for him. She’s as hot and slick around his dick as his fingers. Now, his head is genuinely spinning and shifting between reality and fantasy. He had no choice but to pause to catch his breath before beginning again.
The feathered God released a strangled gasp as he felt his abdomen tense and coil, begging for release. Trapping his erection in his hand, he continued grinding against himself in circular directions. Envisioning himself rubbing against her entrance. Arching his back and spreading his legs further, pleading for more until he could no longer hold it in. Finally, his hand was engulfed with wet heat, and he thrust his dick until he felt raw against his grasp.
A sense of clarity came over him after he reached orgasm. The illusions he created in his mind slowly slipped away, and the realization of what he had just done was all that was left. He would do it again and again without shame. Namor knew it would be a while until he could have her under him again. But that didn’t mean a God couldn’t dream.
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urban-spaceman · 2 days ago
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CARD 1: Eddie Brock Vs. Dr. Newton Geiszler. WINNER: EDDIE BROCK. Okay, now that Newt (2,492 votes, 47%) is out, I am no longer personally invested in the results. You people, you monsters, really voted out MY sweet little meow meow? Whom has done nothing wrong ever in his life (aside from starring in Pacific Rim Uprising) ? I see how it is. Fine. Well I’m suing Eddie Brock (2,814 votes, 53%) and all 800 of his parasitic alien slime babies for emotional damages from this, and I expect Disney or Sony or whoever gets him on the weekdays to PAY UP.
CARD 2: Carlos the scientist Vs. Grincharov Fucker. WINNER: GINCH FUCKER. In a shocking turn of events that has everyone who ever wanted to fuck a Dr Seuss character saying “Haha nice”, The Gumch Fucker (3,254 votes, 63%) has decimated Carlos the Scientist (1,912 votes, 37%)! Oh great, now I’m gonna be on Cecil’s bad side for the rest of my life, and he’s gonna talk shit about me on air.
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laninasinamor · 2 days ago
✨classic memes✨
💛Seaprincess edition💙
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art *chef’s kiss*
credit to @artoflucas on IG
bahaha love the comparison
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livstarlight · 2 days ago
No matter how you decide to read this scene, I can’t get out of my mind the idea that even if Namor did have his agenda, he was not expecting her to basically offer to be kept there
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Poor dude really thought he would have to resort to every last inch of his charm, or at worst threaten, to convince her to at least hear him out, instead she did listen to him, intently, then batted her eyelashes and asked to see his nation with the biggest smile on her face
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My girl Shuri truly gagged an immortal mutant feathered serpent god and had him giggling kicking his feet twirling his hair HER POWER TRULY IS UNMATCHED
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shurisgf · 2 days ago
★ Confession // Shuri 18+★
Pairing: Shuri x F!Reader
Warning: Smut
Request: Maybe the reader is talking to Riri a lot and Shuri starts to get jealous (Shuri isn’t dating reader yet) Shuri being Shuri decides to talk to Okoye about it, Okoye tells her to just talk to the reader so Shuri does which leads to a night with Shuri in the lab/Her room filled with lots of overstimulation,edging,begging.
A/N: Guess who’s back? Me. Your annoying Shuri fic writer 😭. Okay so quick lil rant. I have NEVER written smut before. like at all. this is my first time taking a shot at writing intimate scenes so please bear with me. Enjoy your read! Hope the smut ain’t too cringy. 😭❤️
Word Count: 1.1k+
“Maybe it’s because we put in the sequence wrong?” RiRi stated, and stared at you waiting for a response.
You take a deep breath. Beginning to feel frustrated with this damn sequence that was taking you and RiRi days to figure out. Everyone else had already went to sleep hours ago, now it was just you and RiRi alone in the lab. You rubbed your face feeling aggravated when RiRi spoke up.
“Maybe we should take a break and work on this tomorrow morning?” She said.
That’s the thing. It’s a repeating cycle. The two of you have spent the last week trying to figure this out. Day and night the two of you have been in the lab working together trying to figure out where you went wrong with the sequence. You noticed Shuri side eyeing the two of you a few times throughout the week but you paid it no mind.
“Sure. Yeah. Let’s just do this tomorrow.” RiRi could tell you were frustrated.
“Okay. See you tomorrow at 4?”
“Yeah.” You respond.
Not only have you been working yourself and RiRi so hard, the two of you have been getting up at ungodly times in the morning. Shuri’s noticed, and she wasn’t happy about it. She says the two of you need to get sleep because sleep powers the brain blah blah blah. To be honest you could care less what Shuri says until you crack the code to this sequence with RiRi.
“Goodnight.” RiRi says goodbye as she walks to the elevator door to leave.
You’ve been sitting in the lab for an hour even after RiRi left. Trying to observe the sequence that was sitting on the table. Giving up, you decide to pack up your things and go to sleep for the night.
“Yes, Miss. Y/N?”
“Please shut down the lab for the night.”
“Okay, Miss. Y/N.”
“Just tell her! What’s the worst she can say? No?” Okoye said mockingly.
“Yes! What if she does! We’ve been friends for years it would be weird coming out of the blue saying I’m jealous of how much time she spends with RiRi.” Shuri yells a bit. Clearly frustrated.
“When have I ever steered you in the wrong direction?” Okoye yells back.
Shuri combs a hand through her curls and sighs, frustrated.
“Ok. I’ll tell her, but if this goes the wrong way I’m blaming you for the rest of the century.” Shuri points at Okoye, and Okoye chuckles.
“Yeah, okay. Just make sure I get a ticket to the wedding.” Okoye winks at Shuri.
“Stop it! Get out!” Shuri pushes Okoye out of the door and thinks of a couple of ways to ask you out.
She’s been staring at you and RiRi for the past week. Watching you and RiRi smile as you cracked jokes with each other about how confusing the sequence was. It made her blood boil. She’s had a crush on you for a while now, but she had no idea how you’d react to her confession. I guess tonight is the night she’d find out.
You take the elevator upstairs to your room when you see Shuri’s bedroom door open. You try to walk past when Shuri stops you.
“Y/N? Come here please.” She spoke. Her stern voice echoed in the long hallway.
Stopping in your tracks you turn around to face shuri.
“Yes, Princess. Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, actually.” She spoke.
“And what is that?” You asked.
Maybe it was just you. But there was definitely some sexual tension in the air. The way Shuri was standing there looking down at you made you feel some type of way. The effect she has on you is insane. She made you weak in the knees. You’re ready to crumble apart for this woman when she finally spoke up, breaking the silence.
“I don’t like when you spend endless nights in the lab with RiRi like this.” She said.
“I know. I promise this will be the last night. It’s just that we’re so close to finishing this sequence but we can’t find the right-“
Your sentence was interrupted by Shuri’s lips on yours. There was nothing innocent about this kiss. She was kissing you passionately and taking her time with you. Guiding your lips along with hers. You’ve never felt this way for anyone before. Shuri’s hands were roaming their way around your body when her hands came in contact with your waist. Shuri pulled you into her bedroom and locked the door. In no time her lips were back on yours as she pushed you back against the wall. But this time it was as if she was kissing you hungrily. As if she’s been waiting for this moment. She begins to slip off your clothing and you don’t stop her. You can’t. You’re so caught up in how right this feels. Her lips on yours just felt so amazing. As if she belongs to you. Shuri kisses every part of your curves. Making sure not to leave one spot unattended. Her long slender fingers make their way to your clit. You moan into the kiss allowing Shuri more access to your mouth as she chuckles softly.
“You like that gorgeous? Hm?” She speaks swiftly not wasting another moment by kissing your neck and leaving little love bites wherever she’s kissed you. She picks you up swiftly and lies you down on the bed going back to kissing every part of your body. You’ve never felt this about of pleasure before. And just as you though you were done Shuri slips a finger in your wet pussy. You couldn’t help the moan that left your lips. She started pumping her fingers in and out of you causing you to tremble against her. You felt knots tighten in your stomach. She knew you were close. She could feel your walls clenching around her fingers. She kept the same pace and it was until you felt an immense about of relief, your back arching off the bed as your pussy gushed all over her leg.
“Look at the huge mess you made. It’s all over me love.” She said mockingly and fell to your side, caressing your body gently after the moment the two of you just shared.
“Can we talk about this?” You said, half asleep.
“In the morning?” She spoke, kissing your forehead gently.
“Mm.. ok” You replied.
Shuri chucked at you being all cute, you fell asleep in Shuri’s arms in no time.
“Goodnight love.” And she kissed you once more before going to sleep herself.
A/N: HELP, was that cringy 😭 please help a girl out with writing smut fr. in desperate need of help LMAO i’ll stick to fluff for now 🙏🏾😭
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endoftheage · 2 days ago
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BTS photos are coming AAAAA 🤌🏻
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luvsellie · a day ago
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keeps an eye on you. whether it be physically or virtually, shuri always knows where you are. she keeps tabs on your whereabouts; this became a very important thing for her after the passing of her mother. she tries to not be overbearing, but she likes to know where you are in case something happens/emergencies. and, honestly, you don't really mind. you could even say that you like how protective she is—it makes you feel loved and looked after.
is physically verbal. now, i'm not sure this makes sense lmao BUT i think her body language is very readable, and that is what i mean by 'physically verbal.' like, if she wants something, it'll be pretty obvious; she'll either grow clingy or has a very specific expression on her face. going off of that, sometimes she'll look stare at you really fucking intensely. most of the time she doesn't mean to, it just happens (but i know y'all saw how she was staring at riri in wakanda forever!!). PLUS she enjoys the way you can't stand still when she gives you the look.
invites you as her plus one. no matter what it is, if shuri has to attend, chances are she's convinced you to go as well. in addition to liking your company, she's glad that she doesn't have to face whatever event she's going to alone. you keep her grounded and she likes that.
always has an arm around you. assuming that you're shorter than her (for the sake of this post shuri is 5'9 like her comic book counter part), shuri will take any chance that she gets to hold you against her. she's a big fan of the way your body feels pressed against hers. but she also loves when you take the initiative and, for example, back-hug her while she's working in the lab. honestly, she's just a big softy when it comes to physical contact, so you should definitely reciprocate her loving touches.
makes you gadgets. i like to think that one of her love languages is gift-giving, so with that being said, she would be more than happy to make you your own version of kimoyo jewelry and teach you how to properly use the beads. additionally, if you are involved in a more dangerous field of work, she'll see through that your weapons always function to the best of their abilities, with constant tuning and updates that follow.
shares her culture with you. this is probably one of her absolute favorite things. next to teaching you how to make wakandan food, she adores teaching you traditional dances—it's an excuse to have fun with you and let you see a deeper side of her. shuri cherishes the smaller moments where she has your absolute attention as she shows/teaches you something.
stretching after she's been idle for a long period of time. with the way she's constantly hunched over something in her lab, seeing her finally stand and stretch her stiff limbs is one of your favorite things. you love the sliver of toned abdomen that gets exposed and the hint of a hidden adam's apple that flashes in exposure as she rolls her neck.
geeking about science-y things. she is the absolute cutest when she gets all excited about her experiments and projects. sometimes she'll even let you help her and then she gets to guide your hands and do all that cliché couply shit in the lab. BUT the hugs she gives out of excitement are so nice. the minute she sees you after a successful trial her grin will grow probably ten times bigger (if that's even possible) and she'll hug you super tightly. you adore this side of her so so SO much.
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© luvsellie 2022 | do not repost, republish, steal, or translate !!
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mikeskillz · 2 days ago
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demigoddessqueens · a day ago
pregnancy headcanons
Look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn’t be ecstatic
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First off, the day you tell Namor is the happiest of his life!!
You were completely nervous, wringing your hands, and your love was by your side with concern and intent pouring from his eyes.
“I’m—I’m pregnant, Namor.”
1,2,3…eyes widen, hands tightening on yours and then next thing you know, you’re pulled into Namor’s embrace.
“My love! This is a sign—I never thought I would be—I mean, that we—!”
It touches your heart to see him rambling and overflowing with such joy 🥹
Over the next few months, he’s constantly checking on you; always getting whatever you need even with the weird cravings and always making sure you’re comfortable
If you tell him what you’re thinking of for names, maybe something that includes his mother’s name, be prepared for water works (literally!)
The mural he’s painted? Now it’s addition consists of you, him, and the little one to come
Has new clothes and jewelry made for his greatest gift
Look me in the eye and tell me that he wouldn’t tell stories or sing to your stomach. Lost in complete admiration.
On the day of birth, Namor drops everything to be by your side, refusing to leave. Whispering his praise and encouragement as you endure the pangs through your body.
If it’s a little prince or princess, or both, nothing could compare to the moment and love Namor has as they’re placed in his arms.
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ririsasy · 2 days ago
Namor is down bad when Shuri proposed to him to keep her instead and she said she would love to see his nation without missing a beat he agreed to show her the underworld but not in that clothes 😂
Shuri looked up at Namor with suspicious eyes when he motioned his hand to her clothes lmao did Shuri think that Namor might suggest her to take her clothes off?😂 she was about to fight him. But Namor had a point! You swim then take off your clothes princess
Also Shuri's voice is just so soft. She has a way to capture your heart and caught you off guard. Even Namor didn't have any power against her deadly charm. He couldn't say no to her idea and immediately agreed.
When Shuri said I gave you my word (sound like heart to me) 😝😝 I gave you my heart namor take it!!
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house-ad · 6 months ago
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myrkky · 2 days ago
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Don't worry, Tony is that surprised just because this is happening very early on in their relationship, and isn't yet used to all the casual displays of affection. But he is very happy to be the meat in a supersoldier sandwich (I mean who wouldn't?? 😂)
(Also I like to imagine a world where Civil War never happened, and they're all just living together in the tower, fighting baddies and being happy)(Also also Thanos who?) 
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Private Show
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Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon/dubcon, cheating, body image issues and insecurity, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You find your husband at the strip club but he’s the least of your concerns.
Characters: Bucky Barnes
Note: @slyyywriting​ had to fuck me up today.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all like Tom Nook loves collecting rent. Take care. 💖
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Why are you here? Are you crazy? Has he finally driven you over the edge?
You drop your head into your hands, elbows against the steering wheel as you try to collect yourself. As if it isn’t humiliating enough. It’s the last straw. You can’t do it anymore. You won’t. 
You suck in a shuddery breath and sit up, gripping the ridged leather of your rusty beater. You see the silver Lexus, his new baby just across the lot. The flashing marquee with the woman in shock at her own nudity mocks you, casting red through your windshield. Your lip trembles, hold it together, bitch.
You look down at yourself, the sweatpants still damp with dishwater, the loose cotton tee barely hidden beneath an unzipped hoodie, and a pair of scuffed Walmart sneakers. You’re at home, scrubbing dishes, cleaning up his dirty socks, cooking a dinner that will only go cold, and he’s out here in his overpriced sportscar dropping money on strippers.
A cold trickle flows down your spine. Well, why wouldn’t he? You let yourself go. You’ve become the ratty, miserable, tired wife who can barely keep the floors swept. You wake up, go to work, come home and clean, then have nothing left to give him. The extra pounds don’t help either. You tug up the hem of your shirt and trace the new stretch mark.
Disgusted, you force yourself out of the car. You still have a shred of dignity. You snap the door shut and shove the jangly keys in the hoodie pocket. You drag your hands down your face and shake out your arms, building your nerve.
You march across the lot and approach the bouncer standing by the doors. His arms are crossed over his large chest as he gives a grimace to the world. He notices you and his square forehead wrinkles. You almost want to turn and run.
“’scuse me, ma’am,” he stops you with a raised palm, “you in the right place?”
You inhale and nod, “yes,” you tilt your chin up defiantly, fingers twiddling as doubt nips at your scalp, “my husband is inside.”
The words wisp from you and leave your chest hollow. Saying it out loud twists the knife to the bone. The man lets out and ‘ah’ but not much else. He tuts as and shakes his head, turning to open the door, “no fighting,” he warns.
“Just a bit of screaming,” you assure him as you bluster through, hands balled as you cling to your anger. Yes, be mad, that’s easy. 
You stomp inside and stop short, looking around at the spectrum of colours; fabric, lights, glitter, bottles, flesh… You’re dizzy as you keep searching, standing on your toes as you try to see past the bodies sat along the bar and those clustered around tables. A few men sit alone, throwing money up on the stage as women twirl and spread their legs. How many of them are married?
You see him. Brock. The scoundrel. Your teeth chatter and you gulp as your eyes singe. You want to run away. You want to go home and cry into your pillow. No, it ends here. Tonight.
“Hey, honey,” a waitress startles you, “oh, uh,” her surprise is obvious as she takes you in, “need a drink?”
“Maybe after,” you answer quietly, “thanks.”
She bats her lashes and gives a tremulous grin, “alright, sweetie.”
She quickly retreats, approaching a paying customer with a shimmy of her chest. You roll your shoulders and push your head up. You want that rat husband to feel the same humiliation that scours your stomach. Strippers, really? He told you he was working late.
You make yourself move. Your heart pounds as you tramp across the room, past tables of chattering men, through the din of music playing along to the movement of naked bodies. Brock lifts his glass as you near, noticing too late as his dark eyes hang off the blond hanging upside down from a pole.
“You bastard,” you snarl as knock the glass out of his hand, “you fucking liar!”
“Woah, woah,” he raises his hands, “uh, honey,” he greets, “what are you–”
“What am I doing here?! What–” you huff, head spinning, “is this work now? Hm? You lied to me. You left me at home to clean up after your lazy ass and you're spending our money on this?”
“Our money?” He scoffs.
“Oh shut up! I can’t believe you! Actually, no, you know what, I can,” you sneer, “why the fuck did I ever marry you?”
He chuckles darkly and stands, slowly, sinisterly. The way he does to win all your arguments. Just close enough to make you anxious.
“Let’s not do this here.”
“No, no, let’s do it here because you’re not coming home.”
“Ha, I’m not? Not allowed in the house I pay for–”
“I work too-”
���You make pennies,” he retorts, “go home, honey, I’ll be there soon for dinner.”
“No, no, don’t even–”
“What the fuck did you think I was going to do?” His eyes fall down your body, “look at you. You’re not hiding anything special. I needa do this–” he gestures to the dancer, “just to get hard for your fat ass.”
You reel, the air knocked out of you. Your determination dwindles and you look around. You’re being watched. The performers can hardly keep up their routines as their eyes stray to the scene. A surge of shame erupts to fury.
“Fuck you!” You hit Brock in the chest, “fuck you!” You hit him again. He doesn’t even flinch. His indifference riles you further and you swing for his face. You’re pulled back before you can connect.
“Woah, lady,” an arm wraps around your middle, “settle down, no fighting in here–”
“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” you growl as you claw wildly, “I’m going to–”
“Sweetheart,” another voice rises as another man appears, “come on, let’s pack it in.”
You grab at the arm around you, tugging on it without result. Brock rolls his eyes, “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t think she’d just show up–”
“I don’t give a fuck, get out,” the man says. He puts a hand on his hip, pushing back his dark jacket as he rubs his short stubble.
Slowly, sense returns to you and cools your angry adrenaline. Suddenly, you're horribly embarrassed. You stop and cover your face, “oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’ll go– I don’t know what came over me–”
“Not you,” the man intones out of the side of his mouth, “you.” You drop your hands to your chest as he points at Brock, “and don’t come back.”
“What– I didn’t do shit,” your husband snarls, “she came in here and–”
“You think I don’t see this all the damn time. Get out.” He pivots dismissively, Take the lady to the backroom and get her a drink.”
“No, no, please, I’ll go,” you insist, squirming as you try to free yourself.
“You’ll have a drink and calm down, sweetheart,” he waggles his finger at you then points to the ceiling, “Sam, take care of this asshole.”
Another man comes around and reaches for Brock’s arm. Your husband pulls away gruffly, “I can leave on my fucking own,” he snips, “don’t send that bitch home. She can sleep on the curb.”
Your lip trembles as Brock storms out, kicking over a chair as the man, Sam, follows to see him out. You clutch the string of your hoodie as the man at your back releases you.
“I’m so sorry. I– I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking,” you say.
“John,” the man snaps his fingers.
The man at your side once more takes your arm and tugs on you. You peer around then drop your eyes to the floor in shame. You let him lead you away, eager to hide from your rapt audience.
“Alright, alright, back to business,” the man, some sort of manager you assume, calls behind you.
You’re taken down a hallway to one of the private rooms and your escort flicks on the In Use light before showing you in. He doesn’t say a word and neither do you before he shuts the door. You sigh and look around, the space cast in a gentle violet hue centered around a small stage. 
You tread hesitantly along the carpet and around the curved couch. A knock comes and you peek over as a woman in a short red dress enters with a tray with a bottle of Jack and two glasses. You watch her cross the room and set it on the low round table. You don’t know what to say so you let her go without a word.
You pace and chew your thumb. You could just go. No one would notice. Besides, why keep you here? Shit, what if they’re calling the police?
You rush for the door but it opens before you can reach it. The man, the one in charge, enters, shutting the door with a flick of his wrist as you nearly collide with him. You step back and wring your hands as you stare at him. He smirks as he watches you.
“What’s the hurry, sweetheart? Sounds like the old man won’t be staying up.”
“Um,” you swallow and cross your arms, trying to hide yourself. Compared to the club of primped, pretty women, you must stick out horribly, “I should go–”
“I told you to have a drink,” he nears and waves you towards the couch, “come on.”
“N–” you begin as he grabs your shoulder before slowly sliding his arm over it. He turns you with him and walks you across the room.
“Sit,” he points to the arched cushion, “the least you can do after coming into my club with that shit.”
You pull away and lower yourself to the couch. You hunch forward as you fold your arms over your lap, “I’m sorry–”
“I get it it, sweetie,” he goes to the table and breaks the seal on the bottle, pouring the dark whiskey into the crystal, “I’ve had this place for a while, I know men, I know most of the ones who come here shouldn’t.”
He caps the bottle and takes both glasses. He comes back to you and offers you one. You thank him with no intent to drink. He straightens and takes a long sip.
“Almost feel bad taking their money,” he mulls, “sorry, sweetheart, I know that’s not too nice to say right now.” He strides around casually.
“I… are you going to call the police?” You ask at last, cradling the glass of whiskey.
“If I was, you wouldn’t be in here,” he flicks his fingers at you, “not too hard to mop up some vodka. No harm, no foul.”
You nod and look down at the dark alcohol.
“Drink,” he demands, “I’m being pretty generous, so don’t test it.”
You raise the glass hesitantly. You take a small drink of the bitter liquid and it burns down your throat. You cough and cover your mouth. As you look up, he comes back to you and sits.
“It was stupid to come. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise to me. That moron you call a husband should be,” he shrugs and takes a deep swig of his whiskey, “makes me wonder why they can’t just appreciate what they got.”
You laugh darkly and drink to smother your smart comment. He watches you and you shy away. He pushes against the bottom of your glass and floods your mouth with the whiskey. You choke and pull it away from your lips, hiding the overflow with your hand before wiping it away with your sleeve.
“How long?” He takes your hand away from your mouth and touches the ring on your finger.
You look at the gold band, “five years in June.”
“Ah,” he clucks and stretches to set his glass down, “not exactly what I meant. How long’s it been since he fucked you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, that’s why he’s here. Why you’re here–”
“I don’t even know who you are,” you stand and look for a place to put your drink. 
He grabs your wrist, “finish your drink and answer the question.”
You yank on your arm but his grip is firm. He tugs you until you’re forced back down. You twist your arm in his grasp and he squeezes, a warning.
“Bucky,” he states, “I own this place. Now, sweetheart, you wanna be proper, fine, what’s your name?”
You stare at him. He slowly lets you go and you rub your temple. Well, what the fuck else are you gonna do? You can’t go home. You murmur out your name.
“Alright, and my other question.”
You take a drink. A big one. The glass is empty. He takes it from you as you swipe your hand across your lips to dab away the dribble. You blow out as your stomach swirls.
“Nine months.”
“Nine–” he puts down your glass and sits back to face you, “nine months.”
“Shit,” you shake your head and examine your hands, “I can’t blame him so please, I know why. You don’t have to say it.”
You frown, “it isn’t that hard to guess.”
“I don’t know, tell me.”
You scoff. You turn your face away and furl your fingers as you bite back tears. This if fucking humiliating. 
“Look at me,” you whisper.
“I’m trying, sweetheart, but you’re hiding.”
You huff, “please, I would rather just go sleep on the street.”
“Babe, alright, I’m not being mean here. I’m not teasing you,” he shifts closer and his hand rests on your lower back. You wince. It feels like it’s been years since you’ve been touched, even just like that. “Looks like you break your back at home, you deserve appreciation for that. Shouldn’t matter what you’re wearing.”
You clench your jaw as you look down, his other hand toys with the open zipper of your shirt. You pull your arms in and hug yourself.
“Why… am I here?”
“Sweetheart, you’re still a woman under all this. Your husband’s too fucked to know it.” His finger tickles up your sweater and he plays with your hoodie, “I’ll take a good fucking bet that you could be up on one of these stages.”
“Shut up,” you try to shrug him away.
“I mean it,” his thumb brushes your jaw, “prove me wrong.”
You go rigid and grab his hand. You try to push it away and he twines his fingers through yours. He pulls your hand over and kisses the back of it.
“Well, am I wrong?” He purrs as he clings to you.
Your throat constricts as you meet his gaze. This man is hitting on you? With his eyes and his jawline, his cheekbones. You laugh cynically.
“You are wrong and I’m married.”
He lets go of your hand as you face forward. His hand lingers on your back still and crawls under your hoodie. He tugs at the elastic of your sweats and you yelp in surprise, you’re not wearing any underwear.
“Looks like a fine ass to me,” he snickers.
“Hey,” you shove him away, “what the fuck?”
“I’m not convinced,” he says.
“I’m not convinced you’re the problem, sweetie, so you’re gonna have to show me that I’m wrong. Right now. You show me you’re not hot as fuck.”
You cringe and curl your lip, “please–”
“Take those fucking clothes off,” he leans in to growl in your ear.
You gasp as his lips tickle your cheek, the scent of his cologne fills your nose. You shiver as he brushes his fingers along your neck. He grips your jaw and presses his mouth against you as he speaks.
“You come into my fucking club and make a fucking scene like that, sweetheart,” he growls, “you want to put on a show, finish it.” He stands, dragging you up with him as he squeezes your jaw painfully, “go on, stage is right there.”
“Bucky,” you grasp his wrist, “I’m sorry–”
“Ah, ah, shhh,” he hushes you, “no more talking.”
He spins you, stopping you with hands on your hips and nudges you towards the stage. You trip as he lets you go and stumble forward. You stare at the platform, the single step up, not very far from the couch at all. Close enough to see everything.
You look at the door as you wiggle your fingers. You can go. Run for it. He startles you as suddenly his hand is in your pocket and he fishes out your keys as if reading your mind. He throws them across the room and they fall into shadow.
“I got a man outside anyhow, so let’s go, sweetheart,” he claps his hands as he falls onto the couch with a rush of air.
“I don’t–”
Music rises from the speakers, interrupting you. You turn to watch him place his phone screen down beside him and lean back. He spreads his arms across the back of the couch as he sways one leg.
You face the stage again and brace yourself. You can’t do this. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t dance. You’re hideous.
“Just gotta shake your ass a bit, sweetheart, really, it’s not rocket science,” he goads.
You climb onto the stage, eyes skittering evasively as you try to figure out what to do next. You awkwardly lift your foot and slide off your sneaker, then do the same to the other. You kick your shoes away as you pace nervously to the beat.
“Give it a bit of sass, baby,” he intones and you glance over, his hand on his thigh as he keeps one arm over the couch.
You turn and grab the front of your hoodie. You look at the ceiling and shimmy a bit, easing your sleeves down your shoulders. You get caught in the fabric and untangle your hands from the cuffs before finally flinging it away.
“Please,” you clasp the loose fabric of your tee, “I can’t–”
“You can,” he insists as his fingers tap on his leg.
You huff and look at the wall, trying to focus on the rhythm. You don’t feel very sexy. Your skin is hot with embarrassment but the heat is far from pleasant. You raise the hem of your shirt, baring your stomach as you hope the lighting hides the rippled lines around your hips. You unveil your white bra and swipe the cotton past your head.
You drop the shirt and give a spin, if only to hide a cringe. He gives a low groan but you’re certain it’s a laugh. You face him as you hook your fingers in the elastic of your sweats. If you get it over with, he’ll have his fun and send you off.
You roll down the top of the pants, rocking your hips as the music guides you. You push them down your pelvis, the cool air raising bumps all over you. As the fabric falls lower, you turn your back to him and tug it down past your ass. You drop them to your ankles and step out of them.
You reach back to unhook your bra, wiggling your bottom. You unclasp the back and ease the straps along your arms. You add it to the mess across the stage as a low shudder underlines the music. You turn, shyly, scared, and face him again.
You still, unable to even try. You can’t pretend. You don’t belong here. He’s making that clear. You came in here and now he’s showing you what’s what. Your lips part as you look at him, his hand on his crotch as he bites his lip. You blink dumbly.
You hide your body with your arms, “can I go now?”
“Go where?” He breathes as he squeezes himself, “we’re not done.”
“I…” you tuck your chin down, “please–”
“I’m hard as fuck, sweetheart, you’re not gonna leave me like this,” he drags his hand away to reveal the bulge in his pants, “so come here and take care of it.”
You gape at him. No. You’re married. And he’s a stranger.
You look down at your body and muster what’s left of your courage. You let your arms hang straight, letting him see everything. Heat spatters across your flesh, from nape to heel, sinking into your core. You quiver, for a moment confused by the plucking that feels so familiar and yet, not.
You urge yourself forward, feet flat and uncertain. Your thighs brush together as you step down from the stage and you let out a wisp. Bucky purrs as you come closer and reaches out to take you by the hips. His thumbs graze the raised flesh of your stretch marks and you latch onto his wrists.
“Please,” he echoes and pulls you between his knees, leaning forward to kiss the imperfections, “beautiful.”
You swallow and shake your head, “don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t fucking lie,” he breathes against your skin, teeth grazing hotly, “mm, you are so fucking hot…” he tilts his head back to look at you, his hand trailing up to grope your chest, “I told you I was right.”
Your tongue swipes between your lips and you watch how he fondles you, the doting of his hand as he rolls his thumb around your nipple. He snakes his hand under your arm and pulls you with him as he sits back. He guides you to straddle his lap.
His touch explores your torso and his breath fans over your chest. He twirls his tongue around your nipple and takes it in his mouth, suckling as he cups your other tit. He plays with you, his mouth replacing his other hand as he leaves a smear of spit across your skin. 
He kneads your ass as he rocks your hips against him. He hums, the vibration thrumming through you, as he grinds you against his crotch. He snarls and falls back against the couch.
“You make me wait any longer, sweetheart, and you’re going to ruin my pants,” he rasps and nods to his body, “get on me.”
You look down at him, his jacket wide to reveal the dark shirt taut across his broad chest. You shakily put your hands on his pecs, feeling the firm muscle and letting them wander down his hard torso. You watch your hands as if they’re someone else’s. 
You stop at the button along his fly. He growls and bucks his hips in encouragement, bouncing you. You pick open the button and zipper, brushing along his bulge and eliciting a gritty snarl. You push down the top of his boxers and reach beneath to wrap your fingers around him. He groans as you pull him out, stroking him as you admire his thick length.
“More than you’re used to?” He chuckles as he runs his hand along your thigh.
You lift yourself on your knees and angle against him, pushing his tip along your folds. He catches your chin and pokes his thumb along your lip as you guide him against your cunt. You lower yourself, stretching around him little by little. You stop halfway and whimper.
“Oh, baby, I know you can do it,” he cradles your face, “come on, just a little more–”
You sink down completely and he gasps, squeezing your head between his hands as he throws his head back. He sneers between his teeth as you grasp his shoulders and let out a billowy breath. You whine as you rock against him.
“Sweetheart,” he snickers as he pulls his hands away, “fuck.”
He grips your hip and tilts you, leading your motion as his eyes descend your body. You follow his pace, slipping a hand down to his chest as you moan. You’ve never been so full, so free. It’s wrong but you feel nothing but delight.
He dips his other hand down and bends his fingers along your clit, toying with you as he keeps your moving. You whine as your core pulses and the pleasure laces around your nerves, drawing them tighter and tighter. You roll your eyes back and hum as you suck in your bottom lip.
“You feel how fucking wet you are for me,” he rubs you faster, “I thought I told you not to ruin these pants.”
You groan as you carry your tempo, curling your fingers into his shoulder as his hand trails up your back. He grabs the back of your head and pulls you close, kissing you and swallowing up your moans as he keeps his fingertips pressed to your clit. You quaver as the tension winds to a fever pitch.
You tear your mouth from his and clutch his head between your hands as you cum. You cry out as you rest your lips against his hairline, shaking as the release flows from you. He grunts and hooks his arm around you.
He flips you onto your back as you exclaim. He pushes into you as deep as he can go and pulls back, thrusting sharply so you whimper. He slides back, pausing, then slams in again. He does it over and over, slamming in harder and harder as your walls cling to his long strokes.
“You even remember his name, sweetheart?” He puffs as he pounds into you, his hand stretching across your throat, “tell me, baby, who’s your daddy?”
You groan and push against his hip as he ruts, hammering you into the cushions. The world tilts and spins around you, your anger, your doubts, all lost to the whirlwind of his fucking. You clasp his thick arm and whine.
“Tell me, baby,” he demands as he squeeze your neck.
“Bucky,” you gurgle, “you–you–”
“Who am I, baby?” 
“Daddy,” you drone and your head lolls in another wave of ecstasy, “daddy, please, daddy…”
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marvel-lous-guy · 2 days ago
*Peter meets the avengers*
Clint: Hey! Nice to meet ya!
Steve: Hey, so your Tony's intern?
Nat: You must be pretty smart then
Peter: mhm
Tony: okay, that's enough, kids kinda shy. We're gonna go down to the lab now
Sam: bye mini stark!
Bruce: I guess the kid's really shy then. He didn't even go crazy about meeting Captain America
Bucky: Yeah, must be real shy to not care you've just fulfilled every kids dream
Clint: honestly, I'm offended
Nat: Clint, shut up, it's probably just scary meeting us all at once
Peter: *later* People think I'm very shy, anxious and quiet, but my Aunt just taught me that "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all". I don't say much now
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gay-jewish-bucky · 2 days ago
this is the second time they've violated bucky's autonomy with his prosthetic as a cheap gag and once again you're all laughing and meme-ing about it as if it's some fun innocent joke and not deeply ableist
disabled fans see how you react to this, we hear and read what you're saying
you repeatedly make it abundantly clear how little you care about the harm these "jokes", and your uncritical enjoyment of them, does to actual living, breathing disabled people, in fact you look down on us and our allies for speaking out
thank you for reminding us that this fandom is not safe or welcoming for our community
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house-ad · 6 months ago
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