Part three of the curvy girl Hips and Thighs trilogy.
Read on AO3
Bucky Barnes x curvyF!reader
Warnings: Bucky talks you through it. I mean it, he's very chatty in this one. Unprotected p in v, Reader is midsize/curvy & a little insecure about it.
Word Count: 800
1000 Ficlet Challenge Masterlist
Main Masterlist
He hadn’t planned for this.
Hadn’t planned to corner you like some horny teenager, hadn’t planned to drop to his knees, hadn’t planned to taste you like he was starving.
Now, walking you back to his room, your hand trembling in his, he could feel your shock, he could see it in the way your shoulders curled in on themselves.
You were so used to hiding, to second-guessing.
God. You had no idea.
The second the door clicked shut behind you, he turned, hands flexing at his sides. You looked so unsure, so vulnerable, and it made something in him snap.
He stepped forward.
"That look," he rasped. "Don’t give me that look like you’re in trouble. Like you’re not the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen."
Your lips parted in shock. He nearly dropped to his knees again right there.
He reached for you, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. He wanted to bury himself in you, lose himself completely.
"I’m sorry," he whispered, voice rough. "Sorry I didn’t say it sooner. Sorry I didn’t tell you every damn day how fucking perfect you are."
You shivered under his touch, blinking up at him like you couldn’t quite believe him. Like no one had ever told you these things and meant them.
"Every day, every night… all I can think about is you. The way you laugh, the way you move… sweetheart, you've no idea the things I've dreamed of doing to you."
He felt your fingers twist into his shirt, felt your trembling, and he softened.
"You gotta tell me now if you want me to stop, because I’m this close to losing every bit of control I’ve got left."
You didn’t say stop, or pull away.
You pulled him down instead.
The softest sound slipped from your lips when he kissed you - a shy, sweet little sigh that shattered him completely.
His hands slid down to your hips, fingers curling into the softness there like he was anchoring himself. He kissed you slowly.
“They used to make sculptures of women like you, baby,” he muttered against your mouth as you pressed your hips forward.
He pulled back just far enough to look at you, his thumb stroking your bottom lip.
"Look at you," he breathed. "So fucking perfect. Made for me. God, you'd stop a fuckin’ war. Or start one."
He wanted to take you apart piece by piece, hear every sound you made, learn every inch of your skin by heart. But this time, he wanted to show you what it meant to be loved.
What it meant to be seen.
"Don’t stop,” you whispered as he traced the column of your throat with his tongue.
"Never," he swore, pressing a kiss to your neck. "Never gonna stop. You’re mine now."
He guided you to the bed, peeling off your clothes and his own. You flushed at the sight of him, but he pulled you close.
Your full breasts curved heavy in his hand, “god, you look so fuckin' good like this, all flushed and needy, those pretty thighs shaking. I'm never gonna get enough of you.”
“Bucky -” you gasped.
“Come here,” he rasped, hauling you to straddle his lap, his hands steady on your hips, and then, squeezing, spreading you open so you could feel just how hard he was beneath you.
“Take your time,” he murmured, his kiss brushing your jaw. “Wanna feel every fuckin’ inch of you.”
You sank down slowly, inch by inch.
“Jesus Christ -” his fingers dug into your hips, fighting to keep still as your walls fluttered around him. “You’re so tight, so warm - made for me.”
You whimpered, rolling your hips experimentally, watching his jaw clench.
“That’s it,” he groaned, eyes locked on where you were joined. “Fuck yourself on me, sweetheart. Show me how pretty you look when you take it.”
You rocked forward, bracing on his chest, your nipples brushing his lips.
He seized one in his mouth, sucking greedily, tongue lashing at the sensitive peak while you rode him, your breath hitching with every bounce.
You cried out, your rhythm faltering as your release built sharp and hot.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” he coaxed, licking over your nipple before kissing up your throat. “Give it to me. Wanna feel you come all over my cock.”
Your thighs clenched, and with a shattered sob, you fell apart, clenching around him.
“Fuck - you’re perfect,” he gasped, fucking up into you, chasing his own end. “So fuckin’ good for me - mine -”
You could only cling to him as he spilled into you with a strangled groan, holding you tight to his chest like he’d never let go.
When the tremors finally subsided, he cradled your face in both hands, brushing your hair back.
“Gonna worship you every day,” he whispered hoarsely, pressing his forehead to yours. “You hear me? Every single fuckin’ day.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Fitzwilliam P. Dalton III/female original character/genderfluid original character
Characters: Fitzwilliam P. Dalton III, Jack Sparrow, Original Characters
Additional Tags: POV First Person, OC-heavy, Discord: OC's Cove (Pirates of the Caribbean), Modern AU, the fancyverse, ficlet prompts
Series: Part 9 of PotC Ficlets
Summary:
While I was away for a month, tagging sharks for work, Fitzy and Mary had been rather busy themselves.
----
PotC OC's Cove July 2026 Prompts
Week 1 -proximity: “and there was only one bed ” | “oh no, we’re stuck in this closet/room/small space and can’t get out”
Okay I'm super super late, so I don't know if you still wanna do this, but Wilmon x Call me ?
Hi Sophia 💜 thank you for sending this! And I still love how you said that you're late sending this in while I am answering this only now! I had two ideas for this, and I will still post the other one (i think, albeit on ao3) but this one just called to me more :)))) it's a bit short, but originally this was meant to be a drabble anyways!!! Enjoy 💜
TW: Blood
Send me a prompt from this list and get a ficlet if you want!
It wasn't the incessant knocking that got Simon to finally open the door, nor was it the ruckus outside of someone stumbling over something, probably one of his chairs out front falling down.
No, it was the soft, barely audible through the door "Simon" from a voice that he dreamed of every night. A voice for which he would do anything.
A voice that sounded so broken that Simon bolted to the door, ignoring all his usual safety measures of checking the cameras scattered around the building for any suspicious cars or people lurking the alley.
When he opened the door, Wille looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, his mouth open in what — another plea? A cry for help?
And then, again, his name, but this time as a sigh of relief — "Simon".
Wille almost fell into Simon's arms, stumbling over the treshold and clutching his side, which was already a deep, deep —
fuck.
Red.
Fuck the safety measures. Fuck it all to hell.
He pulled Wille in and slammed the door shut shut behind them. Wille's arms came up around him, squeezing the air out of his Simon's lungs as if Simon was the one who needed to be held up — how Wille still had the strength, Simon had no idea.
The safety and darkness of his small 1-bedroom apartment enveloped them. He couldn't see Wille's face, could only hear his heavy breathing, but for the moment at least he was safe.
And then Wille winced, and Simon didn't need to see his face to know he was biting his lip, probably drawing blood if it wasn't cut already.
"What the hell did you do?"
But Wille didn't answer. He just looked at Simon, and even in the dim light from the street lights outside — the only source of light in the room — he could see a smile wavering on his face despite the tears threatening to spill. Wille opened his mouth as if he was going to say something again, but instead of words he just gasped, his eyes widening.
oh oh oh. 18) "Settle down, there, drama queen," beejtrap?
please forgive my amateur league beejtrap, I'm new to this game. 😅
"Settle down, there, drama queen," Trap huffs, as BJ squirms away from him. "You're fine."
"Not until you get away from me with those tweezers."
"Oh yeah? You want to pick stones out of your own leg, be my guest. Or, you can shut up and be a good boy for the doctor."
BJ snorts, annoyed, but settles back in against the bed.
"Ain't your wife got a problem with you riding that death trap?"
BJ smiles, a little wanly, distracted momentarily from the pain as Trap continues picking bits of gravel and stone from the road rash on BJ's leg. "Nah. She'd be busy picking stones out of her own legs."
"Well I've got a problem, what about that?"
"What about it? I can look after myself."
Trap looks from his tweezers, holding up a particularly sharp rock he's just dug from the soft flesh above BJ's knee, to BJ. "Right."
"D'you baby Hawkeye this much, or is it just me?"
"Maybe I want you to live a long life. Sue me." He drops the last stone into the basin. "You might want to lay off wearing skirts for a while."
BJ laughs. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks Trap."
"Meant what I said before," Trapper says idly, as BJ tugs his pants back on. "Want you to live a long life."
"For Hawkeye, right?" BJ asks, as though this will somehow take away from Trap's meaning. "Or Peggy?"
"Right. Yeah. Oh, and Hunnicutt?"
"Yo."
"Next time you take your pants off in front of me, I'm charging you double."
BJ laughs. "You bet."
My Lovelies! I am SO FREAKING EXCITED to start @neutronstarchild and @witchygirl99 ′s “Trouble Brewing for InuKag Week” Ficlets with Battle Couple!!! You can now read the first installment here! Happy InuKag Week everyone! @inukag-week
You are in for a freaking treat this week! 2 Writers, 7 Artists, 14 ficlets but you won’t know who wrote what!!!!
This pose was so much fun to do I’m ecstatic with how it came out!!!!
Happy InuKag week!! Much Love, Hop
Tag list below the cut! As always let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!
Okay I had to start with the suggestion for Gold Rush and Renga by @transparentadvice because I’ve had this song on my own personal Renga playlist since the very beginning so it seemed like the right place to start!
All of these TSwift inspired ficlets will also be up on Ao3 and instagram if that’s anyone’s cup of tea over Tumblr. And please, feel free to continue suggesting them to me! I plan to use them for warm ups/on days when I don’t have a lot of time to write/a break between other fics I’m working on! Otherwise, please enjoy where my brain goes when I listen to Gold Rush and think of Renga <3
--
I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush
I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush
I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch
Everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you
The first time Reki had taken Langa to S, everyone had stared at him, whispered about him, pointed him out.
Back then, it had been because he was a rookie who taped his feet to a skateboard and somehow won against Shadow. Back then it was because he was a newcomer, he was interesting and unusual. Back then, when they talked about him, they called him Rookie, they didn’t know anything about him— but they wanted to.
Now when Reki and Langa go to S, everyone greets Snow, claps him on the shoulder, asks him how he’s been. They say his name like they own it, like some part of Langa is theirs to lay claim to. When they go to S, it’s no longer Reki and Langa, it’s Snow and that redhead. Reki sees it, too, the way people completely gloss over his existence, the way they cut in between him and Langa for their chance to talk to Snow. Langa has become a celebrity at S, a coveted desire. Everyone wants to get to know him, to talk to him, to call him theirs. The girls fawn over him, batting their eyelashes and reaching out to touch him on the arm.
It makes Reki sick.
Because none of these people actually know Langa. This person they think they know, this version of Langa that has been made up entirely in their minds is not who Langa really is, and Reki is the only one who knows that. Reki is the only one who has put bandaids on Langa’s scraped up hands, the only one who was there the first time Langa nailed an ollie and his face lit up so brightly, Reki couldn’t even see the sun anymore. Reki was the one who was there for every milestone, every injury, even that near death experience before Langa had learned how to stop.
If anyone had a right to lay claim to Langa, it was Reki.
He wouldn’t, of course. Because Langa was his own person and nobody could actually claim him but also because they were best friends and Langa didn’t think of him that way. Langa had no problem thanking the people at S, or pausing to talk to them when they wanted some his time. He answered their questions in the same blasé way that he did most things, as if he didn’t realize exactly how much the other people were getting out of this.
And Reki— well, Reki just stepped aside, made room for these strangers and shoved his hands in his pockets while he waited for the conversations to end. Sometimes he wandered away to get a drink, or to hit the half pipe and try to work off some restless energy. But the more well known Langa became, the harder it became for Reki to get rid of that negative energy and the less he found that he wanted to touch his board at all.
Eventually he settled for just continuing on, just leaving Langa to his long line of adoring fans. He kept his board tucked under his arm as he crossed the rocky threshold, refusing to look over his shoulder at Langa and the girls who were currently pressing into his sides. He refused to acknowledge the sick feeling swirling in his stomach, refused to consider why there was pressure building behind his eyes. It’s not like it mattered, it’s not like this was any different than any other time they had come here. At some point, Reki just had to get used to it.
At some point, he had to recognize that Langa wasn’t just his best friend anymore, wasn’t just the person he—
At some point, Reki had to recognize that other people felt the same way for Langa. Worse than that, eventually Langa was going to return those feelings for one of those people. One of those pretty girls who were consistent and determined would surely find their way past the gates of his heart and suddenly they’d get to see all the sides of him that had been reserved for Reki only.
Just the thought alone makes Reki want to do something reckless.
He tells himself it’s because he wants everyone else to look at him the way they look at Langa, because he wants everyone else to see that he has talents, too. Deep in the darkest corners of his heart, he knows it’s because he wants Langa to stop looking at other people. He wants Langa to look at him again instead.
And really, he shouldn’t be surprised that everything in his life revolves around Langa like that. Everywhere they go, everything seems to revolve around Langa. From the new kid at school to the hot transfer student, from the rookie at S to the god of the track— Langa was at the center of everything in Reki’s life. And he was at the center of Reki’s heart, too, no matter how terrible of a situation that actually was.
Reki throws his board down at the starting line. He’s not up against anybody, there’s no official beefs running tonight. The track is simply open to everyone and Reki figures he can make do with that. He’d love to be running a beef instead, to have something else taking up that space in his mind that was currently occupied with thoughts of Langa leaving him behind, thoughts of Langa suddenly forgetting who he is and starting to simply think of him as that redhead, too. He knows Langa would never do it, but the mind is a fickle mistress and she likes to play games with Reki anyways.
With one push, Reki’s off. He plants his feet on the board and crouches low to get as much speed behind him as he can. Maybe he can outrun his daunting thoughts if he goes fast enough. It’s not likely to work, but there’s only one way to find out. Faces he pass blur as he goes by and whatever people are shouting at him has no meaning. He can’t make out their words and he doesn’t even try to, suspecting that he doesn’t want to hear what they have to say anyways.
The first corner comes into view and Reki’s going too fast. He knows he’s going too fast, knows that he won’t be able to make this without some serious luck— or a serious injury.
Cheering suddenly erupts around Reki and he hears the sound of a second set of wheels on the ground a moment before the sharpest part of the corner hits. Reki has no time to look, no time to pay attention to what’s going on as he shift his weight and tries his hardest to keep in contact with his board at all time. He turns, leans, his hand slides against the gravel on the ground to try and keep him upright— he’s almost there, he can see the straight away just ahead of him, can feel his board starting to level out under his feet. The board wobbles underneath him, his arm shakes as he leans onto his hand. He can feel his foot slipping towards the edge of the board and he's not sure he's going to make it. Each second feels like the board is getting further out from underneath him and his speed is still too much. He just needs to hold on, just keep his grip or else he's going to go tumbling and there was no good outcome if that happened. Just a little bit more, just the tiniest bit—
He made it. The ground is flat beneath him and Reki is able to slide his foot back to the center of his board, pulling it closer to him again so he can try and go back upright. Reki straightens himself up on his board, breathing a sigh of relief as he tries to find his balance again. Another round of applause breaks out and Reki’s just about to wonder what it’s possibly for when he hears that second set of wheels again and a hand closes around his wrist.
Really, Reki doesn’t have to look to know that it’s Langa, but he does anyways. He looks because he’s always loved the way Langa looks when he’s skating the S track, the wind blowing the longer edges of his hair back, his eyes bright with pure enjoyment. He loves watching the determination on Langa's face, the natural way he moves on his board. There's something so intoxicating about it, Reki would gladly watch it every single night if he could. This time, though, there’s a frown pulling at the corner of Langa’s mouth as he tugs on Reki’s arm and starts to slow them both to a stop.
Reki doesn’t want to stop, he doesn’t want to let go of this feeling he has. Reki doesn't want to give his insecurities a chance to catch back up to him. But he does, running off the edge of the track and hopping off his board, taking a few stumbling steps as he does. “What?”
“That was reckless.” Langa says immediately, and he’s right up in front of Reki again, that frown deep. “You took that corner way too fast.”
“I’m fine.” Reki holds his arms out to either side as if to demonstrate his point. “Nothing to worry about.”
What he doesn't say is that Langa must've taken that corner nearly as fast to have caught up with Reki the way he did. What he doesn't say is that Langa shouldn't doubt his skills because the truth is that he doubts his own skills and he understands why Langa would, too.
“Reki.” Langa's expression is stern and entirely unamused. His cheeks are flushed a pale pink and it's not the usual color they turn when he's been racing. It's the color they turn in the rare instance that he's frustrated with something and in this case, it appears that he's frustrated with Reki.
With a sigh, Reki concedes Langa’s point, hoping to just get back on his board, to get away from this moment. “Okay, it was a bit fast. But I really am fine so it’s not a big deal.”
There’s a certain slant to Langa’s eyebrows that Reki can’t quite decipher and the fact that he’s not completely sure what Langa is going to say next makes him feel like his blood is freezing in his veins, Are they already shifting this far apart?
“You don’t need their approval,” Langa says and for Reki, it seems to come completely out of left field. Mostly because Reki had thought he'd been doing a better job hiding his thoughts, covering the way he was feeling.
He'd been trying his hardest to keep a straight face all these weeks, to act like nothing bothered him. Because there was no reason for Reki to put that burden on Langa, no reason for him to make Langa feel bad for things that were out of his control. What good could possibly come from Langa knowing that his popularity felt like needles under Reki's skin, stabbing away at his heart? Reki already knew the answer: nothing good could come from that.
“That’s not why I was doing it.” Reki answers, and it’s absolutely the truth. Even if he has no intention of elaborating on it any further, no intention of telling Langa that ultimately, what everyone else thinks of him doesn’t matter as long as Langa keeps looking at him. “Besides, you do reckless things all the time, you have no room to talk.”
Langa pauses for a second and then reaches out to grab Reki’s wrist again. “I was worried you’d get hurt.”
“I get hurt all the time.” Reki tries to dismiss immediately. He means it as something lighthearted to dispel the steadily growing tension but there’s enough truth to the statement that it catches in his throat as he says it and makes Langa’s frown deepen.
“If you get hurt, I can’t skate with you.”
The words strum a chord on Reki’s heart and he tries not to let it show. He swallows around the lump that’s quickly forming in his throat and tries to make his voice sound steadier than he feels. “So? You have plenty of other people to skate with. Everyone here would kill to skate against you.”
Reki feels the exact moment that Langa’s grip on his wrist tightens and he has a brief flash of panic that Langa is going to let him go, going to agree with what he’d just said and drop the issue. Langa doesn’t. Instead, he slides his hand down further, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin right at the inside of Reki’s wrist, before he has his hand wrapped around Reki’s, squeezing it tightly.
“I don’t want to skate with them,” Langa says earnestly and there’s so much raw truth in his words, Reki is almost knocked off his feet. “I want to skate with you. It only matters if it’s you.”
“They cheer for you.” Reki stares down at their connected hands, the dam of emotions dangerously close to crumbling. He can already feel some of it beginning to leak.
“So?” Langa tugs on Reki’s hand so he stumbles a tiny step forwards. They’re almost chest to chest now, so close that Reki can practically feel Langa breathing. “I only cheer for you.”
That gets Reki to whip his head up, to search Langa’s blue eyes for some hidden meaning, for some way to explain that as anything other than the admission that it sounds like. He finds nothing,
“Langa—“
“Reki.” Langa’s hand shifts again so that his fingers are threaded between Reki’s and Reki finds that he’s holding his breath. “I don’t care what everyone else says or how wrong they are about your talent. It’s only fun if it’s with you.”
Reki huffs out a nervous laugh, glancing away from Langa’s eyes. “That almost sounds like a confession.”
“It is.”
The world slows to a stop around Reki as he slowly turns back to look up at Langa. Langa, who has always been by his side. Langa, who looks after him when he gets injured. Langa, who always finds his way back to Reki, no matter how many times the crowd tries to come between them. Langa, who has never left Reki behind, never picked anyone or anything over Reki.
The dawning realization is like the break of sun on a new day, casting light and chasing out shadows. All of the bitterness Reki had felt when he’d seen those girls flirting with Langa is gone, all of the insecurities he had about Langa wanting someone else have completely dissipated as he looks into Langa’s unsure expression and realizes that Langa has just bared his heart to Reki and is waiting for a response.
“I don’t care about what anyone else says, even though they’re right about your talent.” Reki replies slowly and he finally gets to watch as Langa’s frown turns into the barest hint of an exasperated smile. “It’s only fun if it’s with you.”
Langa leans the tiniest bit closer. “Is that a confession?”
“It is.” Reki breathes, finally holding Langa’s hand back, using that point of contact to drag Langa down into a kiss right there on the side of S where everyone could see.
He gets to feel the moment Langa’s exasperated smile turns into a full-fledged grin against his lips, gets to feel Langa huff out a quiet laugh as his other hand finds it’s way to Reki’s hoodie and drags him the last bit forward. And just like that, everything Reki has been worried about is completely gone, kissed away by Langa.
Everyone may want to know what it’s like to love Langa and be loved in return, but only Reki gets to.
Warnings: Masturbation, mentions of open relationships
[[MORE]]
Link struggled to relax.
He told himself it was because he was home alone. Christy had decided to take the boys on a sons and mom weekend trip, and Lily was staying with a friend.
Jade was already curled up and asleep in her bed at the foot of Link's bed.
Link flitted between dozing and tossing and turning. Deciding even though it was unusually cool for LA, he was too hot, he kicked his blankets off.
That's at least what he told himself.
His mind was playing a long fought game.
One where it would tempt Link with images of Rhett and himself in compromising situations.
It was generally a sign from his subconscious to spend more time alone with Rhett away from work. It was an old arrangement. Discussed and put in place well before fame, and had kept all parties satisified. But as life happened, the time Rhett and Link could set aside for themselves was given over to higher priorities.
It hit Link then, how much he missed it.
The occasional camping trip, that once turned into a 3 day sex fest. Which then led to a text from Jessie requesting perhaps a lighter touch when spanking Rhett's ass.
The several near misses when staying late in the office on Thursday nights.
Here Link was, half hard, half asleep and desperate for some kind of relief.
It was crude, and smacked of teenage need and resourcefulness, but at 2am, that was all Link had left.
The images his mind brought to focus were Rhett underneath him, whiny and begging Link to keep fucking him. Or was it Rhett teasing Link's hole with his cock before fucking him into the mattress?
Link let out a high whine, as his hips continued the assault, thinking of all the dirty things the Rhett in his mind would be saying to him, teasing him in that Rhett way. Both pissing him off and endearing him to the man.
He came with a whimper before being hit with the need to sleep.
He needed to talk to Rhett and see if it was possible to go camping soon.
