one of my favourite background moments of the concert (i cant believe there’s only a week left!!)

Don’t Judge me: Cancer, Taurus, Pisces, Virgo, Libra, Sagittarius

I’m Judging you: Aries, Capricorn, Scorpio, Aquarius, Gemini, Leo

Rockin’ and Rollin’

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky), 3k

A/N:So the other day, this amazing video made the rounds on Tumblr. Since everyone was going ‘Who’s writing a fic?!’, I wrote a fic It’s short, silly and completely self indulgent, and I hope you enjoy

(you may be asking yourselves, minnie, are you ever going to write anything other than Steve and Bucky getting it on in front of the other Avengers ever again? and my reply would be: probably not because I just love it too goddamn much. sorry)

*****************

Another day, another successful mission.

Bucky couldn’t say what day it is exactly, or even what time, but it’s dark outside and they’re somewhere in Texas. At least, he thinks it’s Texas. Could be Arkansas, now that he thinks about it, not that it matters. What matters is that they stopped another megalomaniac, averted another catastrophe, and none of them are seriously hurt. Everyone is in need of a drink, though.

By some unspoken agreement, they find the closest dive bar that looks mostly empty. The dimly lit place they end up in smells like stale beer and sweat and a few other things Bucky chooses not to examine too closely, but then again, he probably doesn’t smell much better right now. Avengers or not, in their current state they’d most likely be turned away anywhere else. The few other patrons in this particular bar seem too intoxicated to care, or even to recognize them, or maybe it’s that famous Southern hospitality. Whatever it is, it suits Bucky fine. He’s doing much better these days, but he’s still not overly fond of getting mobbed.

Leaning back against the bar while Steve orders them a drink, Bucky looks around, subconsciously scanning the place for danger and finding none, except maybe for a few suspicious stains on the pool table.

Bucky accepts the drink Steve hands him with a grateful smile, taking a long pull of the cold beer as he watches Steve joke around with Bruce and Sam. He’d never admit it out loud, least of all to Sam himself, but secretly, Bucky is glad to have Sam on the team. Not only is he the only one among them with a lick of common sense, he’s also a true friend to Steve. Sam had been a friend to Steve when Bucky was unable to be one himself, and for that, Bucky will always be grateful.

A commotion to his right shakes Bucky out of his reverie, making him tear his eyes away from Steve to find Tony looking what can only be described as alarmingly excited. He’s all but wringing his hands, his gleaming eyes fixed on the mechanical bull in the center of the room, which Bucky had spotted when they entered the bar and forgotten about just as quickly.

“Well, well, well,” Tony drawls, “what have we here? Is that a mechanical bull I spy? My, oh my. You ever seen one of those before, Capsicle?”

Steve turns, following Tony’s gaze. He frowns. “Can’t say that I have.”

Bucky is briefly surprised, before he remembers those things didn’t exist back in their day, and Steve has never been one for bar hopping, whether in the previous century or this one. Why Bucky himself is familiar with the contraption, he can’t say, but then it’s like that with a lot of things these days. Fortunately, the fact that he can’t connect a specific memory to the information his brain provides him with doesn’t unsettle him nearly as much as it used to.

Bucky watches with low-key amusement as Tony starts goading Steve, daring him to get up on the bull – no doubt because he’s already mentally planning a line of T-shirts with Steve’s photo and a slogan that would probably say something classy like ‘Save a horse, ride a Captain’.

Now there’s a thought, Bucky thinks – and out of the blue, his brain supplies him with a devious little plan of its own.

“Fine,” Steve is saying, squaring his shoulders. He turns to Clint. “hold my beer.”

But before Steve can go anywhere, Bucky steps forward, putting a hand on Steve’s arm to stop him. “I don’t know about this, Steve,” he says, making his brow pull together in faux-concern. “What if you get hurt?”

“Oh, come on,” Tony protests immediately. “He’s Captain America, for Christ’s sake. He’s punched a thousand Nazis, probably killed dinosaurs with his bare hands. I think he can handle a measly mechanical bull, don’t you?”

Steve gives Bucky’s hand a brief squeeze. “I’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes. He may be one of the most brilliant tactical minds of his generation, but sometimes Steve is still surprisingly slow on the uptake.

Natasha’s catches Bucky’s eye over Steve’s shoulder, the hint of a smirk on her lips telling him she’s onto him. It doesn’t surprise him in the slightest. Of course Natasha knows he and Steve are together, because Natasha knows everything. The same can’t be said for rest of the team, however, with the possible exception of Sam. It’s not that Steve and Bucky are keeping their relationship a secret, per se, it’s just that neither of them is big on talking about their feelings to anyone but each other. And because of the time Steve and Bucky grew up in and the years they spent in the army actively hiding their relationship, they’re used to acting like best friends in public, and nothing more. They’ve discussed it, though, considered laying it all out in the open, so Bucky knows Steve isn’t opposed to the rest of the team knowing.

“I agree with Barnes,” Natasha announces, causing Tony to throw her a surprised look. “I think he should accompany Steve. I don’t know about you guys, but I’d rather not have to explain to Fury why Cap ended up in the ER on our watch.” She shoots Steve a barely perceptible wink, Steve’s eyes widening infinitesimally as he catches on.

“Yes,” Bucky nods gravely, “I, too, think it would be best if I joined him. Come on, Rogers.”

With a hand at the small of Steve’s back, Bucky leads him towards the bull in the center of the room.  He effortlessly hoists himself into the saddle, holding out a hand to Steve, who raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t otherwise question it. Grabbing Bucky’s hand, Steve lets himself be pulled up onto the bull as well, humming appreciatively as Bucky immediately molds himself to his back and hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder. They’re already plastered together from hip to shoulder, and yet Bucky shuffles forward a little further, just to make sure he’s eliminated any room for Jesus. Jesus can go find some other hot guy on a mechanical bull; this one’s his.

“Barnes!” Natasha calls from across the room.

When Bucky turns to look at her, it’s just in time to catch the cowboy hat she throws his way. Lord knows where she got it, but Bucky doesn’t particularly care. He grins, placing the hat on his head and tipping it in Nat’s direction.

“Ready?” Tony asks gleefully, and before either of them can reply, the bull hums to life underneath them.

As it starts to move, Bucky let’s his lips brush the shell of Steve’s ear as he murmurs, “Just follow my lead.”

Steve gives a small nod.

It starts off slow, just rocking back and forth, not at all in time with the awful country music that’s blaring from the speakers. For something to do with their hands, Steve hooks his thumbs into the belt loops of his suit, while Bucky puts his hands on Steve’s slim hips, just resting them there. He lets himself be led by the lazy, undulating rhythm of the bull, deliberately pressing closer against Steve with every roll of his hips.

Somewhere near the bar, someone whistles. Bucky suppresses a smirk. You ain’t seen nothing yet, he thinks, with no small amount of satisfaction.

When the bull speeds up a notch, Bucky reaches up to grab the rope that’s hanging over their heads. He pulls himself up, twisting himself almost sensually before landing back in the saddle, but this time facing Steve.

“Hey there, handsome,” he winks, delighted to see Steve’s cheeks go a little pink. “What’s a guy like you doin’ in a dive like this?”

“Just along for the ride, apparently,” Steve smiles, looking up at Bucky through his lashes.

Andgoddamn – Bucky knows Steve better than he knows himself, quite literally. He’s seen him in every possible state, had him in every possible way, but that coy little look that Steve is giving him through those obscenely long lashes still manages to set Bucky’s pulse racing like nothing else.

Something of which Steve is very well aware, judging by the hint of a smirk he’s got tucked away in the corner of that sinful mouth.

There’s no official rule that says they can’t hold on to the bull as far as Bucky knows, nor is there any danger of this thing throwing them off, but Bucky still grabs Steve’s waist as if to steady himself, fingers digging into flesh. His metal hand is gripping hard enough to leave bruises, but Bucky knows Steve likes it that way. Sure enough, Steve makes an appreciative sound, locking eyes with Bucky and not looking away as they keep rocking back and forth.

They’re so close that Bucky can smell Steve every time the rhythm makes him lean into him; fresh sweat and sunshine and that awful three-in-one shampoo that Bucky can’t help but have a Pavlovian response to these days. He feels the heat radiating off of Steve even through their clothes, and despite their surroundings and the fact that they’re being watched by god knows how many people, Bucky can feel himself start to harden in his tac pants. Although, if he’s being honest with himself, the fact that they’re being watched might actually be helping in this case.

Alright, so Bucky’s a little excited to finally get to show Steve off, to show the world that this beautiful man in his lap is all his, and always has been. After everything they’ve been through, Bucky thinks he deserves that much.  

Smoothing his hands up Steve’s ribs, Bucky gives his arms a nudge, indicating that he wants Steve to lift them and put them around Bucky’s neck. Steve obliges instantly, which causes more wolf whistling from the sidelines. Probably Nat. Maybe Sam. Bucky spares a fleeting thought for the look that must be on Tony’s face right now, but however satisfying it would no doubt be to see it, watching the way Steve’s eyes darken as they move together to the suggestive sway of the bull is infinitely more enthralling.

Bucky wraps his own arms, metal and flesh, around Steve’s torso and pulls him closer, drawing their bodies flush together. It’s a shame they’re both wearing Kevlar; Bucky knows how much better it feels when it’s skin to skin, but alas, this will have to do for now. Moving his hands to the front of Steve’s torso, he slides them up his chest, feeling the swell of Steve’s pecs beneath the course material. He can’t help getting a little squeeze in, just the once, but it’s enough to make Steve’s breath hitch.

God, Bucky loves that sound. For as long as he can remember, Steve’s always loved getting his chest played with. It was true even when he was a just a bony slip of a thing with no chest to speak of, and ever since he went and got himself a rack that put even the chorus girls back in the war to shame, it’s just gotten worse. It gets him real hot, real fast, and as Bucky found out very quickly, anything that gets Steve hot gets Bucky hot, too. Bucky has spent literal hours worshipping Steve’s chest, kneading the firm muscle, sucking on the flesh to leave marks and scraping his teeth over those pretty pink nipples until they’re swollen and raw. Judging by the look in Steve’s eyes right now, he’s recalling the same memories.

Smirking, Bucky puts his left hand on Steve’s chest and pushes, just lightly. Steve takes the hint, leaning backwards until he’s lying flat on his back with his arms loosely at his sides, holding on by the sheer strength of his thighs and abs alone. Raising himself up, Bucky splays his hands on Steve’s chest and hovers over him. Like this, his crotch is positioned directly above Steve’s, and as he moves with the undulating movements of the bull, Bucky’s rolls his hips against Steve’s – riding him. It’s a filthy move, chock-full of innuendo and dripping with suggestion. There’s no way anyone could mistake this for anything innocent anymore, at this point, especially because Bucky can feel that below him, Steve is hard. Since Steve is not exactly small, he’s pretty sure everyone else is getting an eyeful, too. It makes Bucky want to growl, makes him feel equal parts possessive and smug.

As they keep rocking and rolling, Steve looks up at him with a heavy-lidded, dark eyes, greedily taking in Bucky’s body above him. Bucky feels it like a physical a caress, the way Steve’s appreciative gaze brushes his shoulders and chest, his waist and thighs, shivering at the weight of it when it finally lands on the bulge in his pants and lingers there.

Steve, for his part – arms above his head, back arched and tits sticking out – looks like an angel, fallen straight from heaven.

Jesus, Bucky marvels, for what’s probably the thousandth time since he remembered who they were to each other, before everything. How did I get so lucky?

Grabbing the collar of Steve’s shirt, Bucky yanks him upright so that their chests are pressed together, their faces so close that they have to go a little cross-eyed to continue looking at each other.

“Christ, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, gaze dropping to Steve’s mouth. He lifts his hand, touching questioning fingertips to Steve’s plump lips. “The things you do to me, I swear.”

“Me? What’d I do?” Steve asks innocently, blinking his pretty, blue eyes at him, right before he sucks Bucky’s fingers into his mouth.

All of Bucky’s blood rushes south in a split-second, and he curses, blowing out a harsh breath as he tries to compose himself. He has to regain some control of the situation here, or this could get embarrassing fast.

Holding on to Steve’s waist with his right hand, Bucky reaches up with his left to grab the cowboy hat off his own head, before placing it firmly on Steve’s. When he leans back to assess the effect, he’s unsurprised to find that Steve looks positively edible. He always looks good, of course – but here, like this, with his flushed cheeks and eyes that shine with the sort of exhilaration that only comes from doing something just a little bit reckless, Steve is just about the most stunning creature Bucky’s ever laid eyes on.

“Suits ya,” Bucky says gruffly, a little breathless with it.  

Leaning forward, into Bucky’s space, Steve murmurs, “Howdy, partner.”

It’s objectively a terrible line, but Bucky has learned a long ago that there’s nothing Steve can do that will turn him off.

There’s a moment of charged anticipation, just a beat of terrible country music, a heavy thump of Bucky’s lovesick heart, and then Steve’s lips are on his, warm and soft and like a revelation, even after all this time.

Steve makes a small sound, almost a moan, which Bucky rewards him for by licking into his mouth. Steve moans for real at that, giving back as good as he gets. One hand fists in Bucky’s hair while the other one paws at his waist, trying to pull him impossible closer. They kiss, open-mouthed and hot and far too uninhibited for a public location like this one. But then again, Bucky thinks they may have crossed that line a while ago. Probably when they started dry humping each other.

Still, before things can get truly out of hand, Bucky makes himself pull back. “How about we get out of here, huh?” he breathes against Steve’s slick lips. “I ain’t done with you yet, but those guys over there have probably seen enough.”

Once the words filter through Steve’s lust-filled daze, his eyes flick over towards the bar for a second. Briefly, Bucky wonders if Steve regrets letting go like this in front of the others. After all, most of the team, most of the world, has only ever known Steve as the good Captain; noble and righteous and stoic, not to mention straight as an arrow. This little show they just put on is a far cry from that.

But when Steve’s eyes turn back to Bucky’s, they’re dancing with mischief. The sight takes Bucky’s breath away, transporting him back to a time long ago, to the afternoon when Steve grabbed his hand and dragged him under the boardwalk at Coney Island in broad daylight.

“Don’t care,” Steve tells him. “Let them look.”

Bucky groans, pressing his forehead to Steve’s. He kisses him again, deep and hungry, before muttering, “You say that now, but we both know you’re gonna regret it once you stop being horny. ‘Sides, we’re in a bar, remember? Pretty sure public indecency is still illegal.”

“Never stopped us before.”

Bucky snorts, shaking his head fondly. “Punk. Alright, how about a compromise? Wanna go find some dingy alley to defile, just like old times?”

“Boy, you’re a real sweet talker, aren’t you, Buck?”

“Shut up.” Bucky drops a hand to Steve’s crotch, giving him a quick squeeze. “Don’t pretend it’s not working, sweetheart.”

Steve sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh, it’s working alright.”

Bucky grins, then braces himself on Steve’s thighs and gracefully hops off of the bull. It’s full-on bucking by this point, though Bucky had been too preoccupied to notice. Steve follows soon after, steadying himself by grabbing Bucky’s metal hand as they make their way towards the others, heading for the exit.

“Thanks for the show, boys,” Natasha remarks as they pass by. Lightning fast, she plucks the hat off Steve’s head and deposits it on Clint’s.

Sam hums thoughtfully. “Not to encourage this sort of deprived behavior, but you all should seriously consider a career change. You’d make so much money if you turned to stripping, I’m telling you.”

There’s a whimpering sound from somewhere near the bar, and when Bucky glances over, it’s to see Tony thump his forehead against the countertop repeatedly. Bruce, who’s standing next to him, is patting his back, murmuring soothing words.

Bucky almost feels guilty. Almost.

“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Natasha says, flicking her wrist. “I mean, you made him question everything he ever thought he knew, but he did ask for it, so.” Shoving Bucky’s shoulder, she adds, “Now get out of here, before you poke someone’s eye out.”

Despite his earlier bravado, Steve starts spluttering, so Bucky swoops in and saves him by putting an arm around his waist, leading him towards the exit.

Over his shoulder, Bucky calls, “Enjoy your night, guys. We sure as hell will.”

“Fuck you,” Tony replies empathically, his voice breaking on the second syllable.

“Language,” Steve tuts, and just for that, Bucky has to kiss him again.

******************

Read on AO3

Minus the electrocution, do you think this is the same face Zack would make when he’s getting blowed?

From the outside looking in, everything always seems fine. But they don’t really know what’s going on in my I’ll mind

Judging someone you don’t know by what they wear or what their hair style is, is petty and so are you if you’re doing that shit

minmoyu:

NEW OFFICIAL FULL HUALIAN ART FOR TGCF MANHUA VOLUME SIX JFC LOOK AT THEM

HHNNNGGGGGGGGG

I’ve been working a lot lately like a bee in a busy hive so that’s why currently my posts have been few and far in between. For those of you tapping your foot impatiently, try not to worry as for tonight and the rest of Sunday I’ll be sticking some goodies in the queue for the next few weeks! 

- Taylor

Judged

We broke up.

You called me weird.

Remember how I told you I was child abused?

I was in first and second grade.

It was for two years.

I was being bullied at school.

The entire family tried to take advantage of me.

And don’t forget I was being judged by the entire town.

All I had was my great-grandma.

Unfortunaly, on April 3rd during second grade, she passed away.

I became suicidal.

Since I lived down in an apartment, I wanted to go on top of the building, and jump.

But I didn’t.

Something stopped me.

I don’t know what it is.

What is it?

I wasn’t even in the United States.

I was in Mexico.

I wasn’t fluent in Spanish.

I didn’t know where I was.

I had no hope.

Why?

I would have had a little hope if I knew who God was.

Did you know all of that?

Well did you?!

No, you didn’t.

Because you didn’t let me finish my story.

I am a storyteller.

When you tell your friends I’m weird,you bring all these memories back!

When you call me weird, you bring all these bad memories back.

Next time you judge someone think about when you judged me.

You can’t make it up to me.

If you judged me you judged me.

I will never forgive you.

I will always remember that you judged me.

But if something bad happens to you…

Just remember…

Don’t mess with this

Storyteller’s stories.

Killin time with Bellarke sketches (´∇ﾉ｀*)ノ

iamanartichoke:

iamanartichoke:

I love how Amber Heard’s lawyer has been objected to, like, five times already during her closing arguments, and by love, I mean this is giving me secondhand embarrassment. I don’t know whose idea it was to let this woman give the closing (or part of it), or for that matter, whose idea it was to let her open her mouth at all during this trial. All she does is ramble on, contradict herself, misunderstand shit, and just generally come off as an incompetent idiot. 

She was objected to again while I was writing this post, jesus christ. 

Cut for images. 

Keep reading

tag blacklist alert: please blacklist off-topic: johnny depp trial thoughtsif you don’t want to see my posts about the trial. (There won’t be many, but I do have post-verdict thoughts.)

This woman has gone around to at least three morning talk shows since the verdict was announced (the day before yesterday), claiming, among other things, that the jury was confused and/or compromised bc “of course they all went on social media, how could you not?” and, like, I’m no lawyer but it seems to me that one shouldn’t go on national news impugning the integrity of a jury on a highly publicized trial, especially without evidence, just bc you think their verdict wasn’t fair. At worst, I’m sure it’s some kind of ethical violation and, at best, it’s just in really bad taste.

But, as I stated before, the only thing she did well during the trial was make herself look incompetent, so.