#V: Blood & Bats
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cw: sexually explicit content / blood / relatively light sadomasochism / age + experience gap (reader is older + more experienced) / sub!choso / vampires đ§ââïž / sex and violence as two sides of the same coin /
choso kamo is 160 years old when he meets you.
in those years of walking the earth, undead, he believes heâs embraced his vampirism as much as he possibly can. the broiling self-hatred he had once found solace in has reduced to a simmer, strongest in those moments of blood and guts and weakening heartbeats; and although he often avoids crowds, and companionship, and light, he no longer believes himself to be a slave of his own nature.
to be true â in the grand scheme of immortality, of vampirism â he isnât anywhere close to the level of control heâd wish to have. often, when indulging yujiâs desire to enjoy the world as he did before his death â boardwalks and arcades and cotton candy â he feels his canines aching in his gums, stretching until they dimple against his bottom lip.
itâs not comfortable. itâs not confident. but even despite the growing aches, heâs no longer cowering in alleyways; no longer drinking from poor stray cats and garbage-chewing rats to momentarily satiate that ever-growing, gnawing hunger. he has some sense of controlâ
âoh, you baby-bats. so adorable.â
control which he now flounders to grab.
a sharp, inky black nail scrapes up the column of his neck â he canât help but arch into it, head tilting back until his wide, pupil-blown eyes find the ceiling, with its intricate coving and obsidian chandeliers. the music from the main hall is nothing but a buzzing in the back of his head; thoughts of his friendsâ whereabouts, an afterthought. your fingernail crowds the underneath of his jaw and stops at where his pulse point would have thrummed, would he have been alive.
youâre a demon. a devil. a she-beast. a succubus. any horrid, terrible name he could call you, he will â dressed in blacks and burgundies and gold older than him, your lips painted an ox-blood red and your eyes as sharp and dark as any polished knife. in your hands he is small. weak. mortal.
âsatoru usually keeps his strays away, after last time,â you say, pouting now, though itâs a crude approximation of sadness â even now, your eyes glint with devilment. âso mean, when he knows i have a weak spot for bats like you.â
that wretched finger stretches up; pokes at his bottom lip, scrapes against the fangs that had â embarrassingly â extended from his gums at the simple weight of you on top of him.
âlook at that,â you coo, and your grin is something unsettling, something that curdles in the pit of his stomach and heats between his legs. âexcited, pup?â
his answering breath comes ragged, and itâs always more embarrassing than it was when he was human. his heart doesnât work, his lungs do not work, and he has no need to breathe â in fact, he lost the reflex to do so around 92 years ago â but his brain is scrambled, it seems, wilted neurons confusing signals from almost two centuries ago. âiâm â ahem â iâm okay, duchess.â
âhow sweet. you donât have to call me by my title, you know. my name will do just fine.â at his silence, you push yourself up from where youâd been laying low against his chest â looking far too excited when you say: âunless, of course, you like it.â
his hands tremble at his side. he canât remember the last time heâs indulged in â in debauchery. the last time someoneâs made him feel like theyâre holding his heart in their hands. over the past hundred-odd years, heâs avoided it like the plague, and for good reason â most vampires arenât known for their commitment, letâs just say. and now youâre on top of him looking like every sin heâs tried to avoid, and heâs straining so hard in his pants he fears heâll cum before you even hint at removing a single article of clothing.
you press yourself flush again, nosing at his neck. he knows, for the first time in his long life, what it feels like to be prey. is this what his victims had felt when he ripped into their throats, young and inexperienced and bloodthirsty? did their vulnerability sit like a stone in their throats?
a groan comes from you, suddenly, and your tongue darts out to lave against his skin. chosoâs answering moan is more of a whimper, broken and weak in his mouth, but you donât seem to notice â or care. he flexes his glutes in an effort to stop himself from rutting up against you â not only would it be embarrassing, desperate, but it would be rude. this is your house, after all. your soirĂ©e. your gilded halls and bedazzled walls. your silk sheets against his back. your satin skirt bunched around your waist.
âtell me, pup,â you say, and he fights the instinctual reflex to shiver at the brush of your lips against his skin, âhave you ever fed from our own?â
âhm?â itâs a sound of confusion brought half on by his simple lack of knowledge, and half on by his slow-processing brain. only seconds after does he fully register your question, and the eyes he hadnât realised he had screwed shut flew open. âno. i â i didnât know that was possible.â
all at once, youâre sitting up again â swinging your leg over his hips until youâre standing. it wouldnât be right to call it clambering â you are impossibly graceful, even passed the agility and elegance that comes with the gift of the undead. his hands reach for you before he can stop them, a sound like a question on his tongue, and you send him the sweetest, most tooth-rotting, stomach-turning smile. he thinks he likes your biting, cruel grins more, though youâre lovely regardless.
you begin to reach for the ties of your corset at your spine â just another thing that makes his mouth water. people didnât wear these sorts of clothes anymore, not in the human world. but he remembers the skirts and corsets from paintings of noblewomen hundreds of years ago, and how heâd admire the curve of their waists, the swell of their chestsâ
âof course, satoru wouldnât tell you. why would he?â
his eyes snap up from your chest, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. but you donât seem to mind. the corset is removed painfully slowly, for no other reason than to torture him; then, the outer dress, with its carmine satin and intricate embroidery. you throw it to the floor carelessly, as if the most knowledgeable museum curators wouldnât prostrate themselves at your feet for the simple chance to display it for millions to see â a while his eyes drink up the sight of more skin, the whisper of form beneath your underdress and bloomers, you near him once more.
metal to a magnet, a moth to flame, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed. you find a place between his legs and grasp his chin, and choso canât look away from you.
âi can take you apart and put you back together,â you say â promise â voice like crushed velvet, quiet and creeping like a choking vine. your thumb smooths over his cheek and ends at its apple, where you press the sharp tip of your nail into his flesh. âi can show you the pleasures of your eternal life, and its pains, and everything in between. i can bring you to every edge, and draw you back from them just as quick â and it will be painful, and youâll enjoy it so much you wonât be able to go another day without it.â
heâs lost the ability to speak. his unmoving heart is in his throat â or in your hands, or between your sharp teeth. you tilt your head and regard him with knowing, twinkling eyes.
âall you have to say, pup, is yes.â
oh, itâs out of him so quick he can hardly keep up â a word so breathy youâd swear youâd already had your way with him. but embarrassment is a thing of the past when your smile stretches, and you murmur marvellous. you release him from your grasp, much to his chagrin, but when you begin pulling down your bloomers his attention shifts.
he can smell you. smell you. the musky, salty scent of between your legs â a smell that has his mouth watering and his fingers cramping from how hard he fists the sheets. your bloomers are damp when you discard them, sticky with your arousal, and pride glows in chosoâs chest. he didnât do much, but it seemed enough â if he had only let himself lose control, hump up against you harder, perhaps it wouldâve stained his clothes; seeped through your layers and onto his lap. heâd go home and hold it over his nose until the scent faded, and perhaps after.
ânew as you are,â you say, climbing onto your bed once more and reclining back against the numerous pillows â huffing a mean-sounding laugh when he crawls after you. âiâll do you the mercy of taking it easy, just this once. oh, donât make that face â you look like a kicked puppy. i promise youâll enjoy what i have in store for you.â
and you hike up your underdress, and spread your legs. chosoâs mouth waters â the thick smattering of hair on your mons, your flower-like labia, shiny with your arousal. and your clit, peeking out from its hood, pink and shiny and begging to have his mouth on it. but as if this wasnât enough â as if he wasnât already scrabbling to get between your legs â you take one of those long, sharp nails, and drag it against your inner thigh. the skin splits. blood trickles down from the wound like a river of gold, flowing into the crease between your thighs and your pussy, and it smells ambrosial. if his fangs were aching before, theyâre screaming, now. this isnât human blood; this is richer, sweeter, creamier. delectable. hedonistic. youâll make a glutton of him.
âafter all,â you say, grinning wickedly, âiâm treating you to a most delectable meal.â
#sub choso u will always be famous#living out my gothic vampire dream. need#choso x reader#choso kamo x reader#jjk x reader#anime x reader#choso x you#choso kamo x you#jjk x you#anime x you#choso smut#choso kamo smut#jjk smut#anime smut#im thinking about the lore for this au now#gojo who acts like a hedonist but is actually tortured by the reality of his immortality#nanami who strictly feeds either on animals or sustainably sourced human blood đđđđ#vampire hunter toji who is also a vampire a la mikael mikaelson#also pup is what baby bats are calledâŠâŠ. im dying#also goths call beginner goths baby bats but i think its fitting here#also no choso is not a baby or a child or anything he is v much a consenting adult đđ#i jusg think it puts like the extent of immortality into perspective#idk its 3am and i have work tomorrow#who up subbing they choso
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đ©ž BLOOD BOND đ©ž
#vampires#bats#illustration#v inspired by vampire bats sharing blood and doing regurgitated blood french kisses to strengthen bonds and friendships#these vampires are gay as hell
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Human & Vampire MD AU concept
Tws: childhood trauma, mention (no description of) child abuse, siblings being separated / taken away from parents, parental death
Disclaimer: I'm a System myself, so any talk about DID/OSDD1 here is based off my experiences and adjusted to fit a fantasy setting. This may not match everyone's experience with being a System and I'm sorry if it doesn't match yours or you don't feel it's accurate enough.
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Okay, so my Take on a Human/Vampire AU right?
N & Cyn:
N and Cyn are biological siblings. Their birth parents were not good to them. Cyn (not her name at this point) does develop DID because of this as a young child.
A conflict happens in the family and N gets separated from his sister. They lose contact. N has always been her safe person and safe space, so this experience is extremely stressful and traumatizing. This results in the system splitting a factive Introject of him. "N"s job in the system is to take care of the body physically and emotionally when need be and to be a comfort to the other alters (Caretaker/Caregiver/Soother, Emotional Protector). Aside from "N" there already were two other alters before him.
C & Y.
C is a Protector/Avenger and Gatekeeper, she typically deals with conflict and arguments and is more outspoken about things. However, if a situation requires them to seek a hiding spot for safety she will opt for that as well.
Y is a trauma Holder and little who is stuck at the time of the trauma, meaning they don't age up and are forever the age range the body was during the trauma / when the trauma started.
Throughout the next 1-2 years there are two more fully formed alters (the system probably has fragments that aren't as developed too, but I'll only touch on the alters that matter for the AU story).
Cyn & Solver.
Cyn picks her name based on the three alters already existing, She is the new host of the system (prior there wasn't a clear host). Cyns Identity also is what the system uses as their "Singletsona".
Later on the body gets infected with the vampire virus. How I still need to settle on, but I am tempted to make the parents neglect and abuse part of the cause.
The process of turning is painful and traumatic, and Solver splits. In the headspace, Solver takes the form of the body as a vampire.
Solver is a Persecutor (under the definition misguided protector - harming the system and its surroundings as a form of protection).
They and "N" tend to co front for making sure the body feeds, "N" because it's part of his Caretaker job to make sure they eat and drink & Solver bc they're the only alter comfortable with the whole Vampire situation.
Eventually Cyn finally gets taken away from her abusive parents and the system ends up in an orphanage.
Here they socially officially change their name to "Cyn", wanting to separate themselves from their past life and self. The only thing they don't want to forget is N, and they haven't heard from him since they were separated.
Until one day the Elliot Family comes to the Orphanage - or well, the parents and two of their kids. Tessa and their adopted son.
Said Son and Cyn make eye contact and recognize each other as N & his little sister. N pulls his adoptive parents aside and points to Cyn, telling them that he's pretty sure that's his little sister.
After some confirmation, both between the siblings and also with official documents, the family adopts Cyn as well, reuniting the siblings!
It seems fine until the vampire situation becomes an issue. The family doesn't know. The secret and whole vampire thing in general puts stress on the system.
Solver fronts to feed, and ends up feeding off and infecting N and V. Another night it happens again with J. (Harming the body as a form of protection in this case; making the system feel more ashamed and guilty about the vampire situation to be sure they won't tell someone who could actually hurt them.)
N, V and J after turning make sure to keep Cyn fed so Tessa and the parents never get turned.
Also technically Cyn isnt aware of the system beyond thinking the alters are "imaginary friends". Mainly bc many systems dont figure it out until they are much older so I feel making a kid aware of it would be a little inaccurate. Not saying it never happens but still.
N does take note that Cyn sometimes acts "off" but puts it down as not having seen her in 2-3 years and her probably having experienced more trauma since, not to mention the vampire situation once he learns of that.
Uzi:
Uzi lives with her single father Khan. Her mother died when she was really young for reasons Uzi doesn't know of.
Nori was a vampire, however Uzi doesn't know this. Uzi did inherit the virus but it is dormant and inactive.
Uzi is kind of an outcast at school, bullying and all, ever since she can remember. The only person who doesn't really judge her is Thad who hangs out with her sometimes.
This changed when the Elliots adopted N and he switched schools, joining Uzis class. His friendly demeanor causes him to actively try to befriend Uzi, even tho she's more than happy just hanging out with Thad occasionally. Over time however N manages to worm his way into her heart and they become friends and she starts helping him with math homework.
(V, J and Tessa attend the same school but are in parallel classes btw)
They're friends for about 1,5 - 2 years when the whole Cyn reunion and vampire infection happens.
How Uzi finds out about this is still on the table but oh well. Also, Uzis own vampirism becomes active, turning her too. Now here is two ways I can't decide between this could have happened.
N has told her about having turned a vampire, due to suddenly avoiding places with lots of sunlight and preferring evening hangouts and sleepovers over their typical day/afternoon hangouts. Also he stinks of sunscreen lol. --- one time, N desperately needs to feed but they're in a situation where he cannot do it (be it they are at school or on a trip or whatever - he cannot go away to try and find some wild animal to feed off of) so Uzi offers him that he can gave some of her blood. He hesitates, not wanting to hurt her. She insists because he's visibly not okay and she trusts him. He promises he won't turn her (as vampires can choose whether or not to inject the virus into their prey) and they get a quiet corner for him to feed off her. Everything seems fine until the following days Uzi has symptoms of turning. N had kept his promise, but being bitten awakened her own dormant virus. She doesn't know this tho and accuses N of lying to her and purposely turning her. They argue and their friendship takes a huge hit. Uzi turns to V and J instead of him to ask about what to do and how to keep herself fed and relies on V for help on her first few nightly escapes to hunt. Uzi would shut her down whenever she brings up how guilty N feels and how he misses her. She's mad at him until eventually finding out about her mother being a vampire (still deciding how) and then realizing it's not his fault. She feels guilty for blaming him and thinking he would break her trust and she then does everything in her power to make it up to him. He's upset she would think he's lying and genuinely believe that for so long, but he's happy to have her back.
Option 2 is Uzi and one of the vampire siblings both being hurt. They patch each other up and Uzi notices their blood being black (a vamp hc ive had since I was a teen lol) and asks about it, finding out about the situation. However during the patching up of wounds, some of the black blood enters her wound which activates her own vampire virus.
One option for this is that Uzi hurt herself prior to helping N watch Cyn and Cyn gets hurt whilst N isn't in the room. Uzi helps her and in the process Cyns blood gets into Uzis injury.
[ I am open for situation suggestions with N, V and maybe J ]
J & V:
Dont have a lot about them except that J was adopted first, she's a little older than Tessa even. V was adopted alongside N from where they were in the same orphanage.
J doesn't like Uzi when N starts hanging out with her. V does somewhat get along with her tho and helps Uzi when her own Vampirism activates.
Tessa:
Tessa is unaware of her siblings vampirism for the most part. She did notice them seemingly eating less though and is a little worried about that, she makes them snacks she knows they like to try and make sure they eat enough.
I feel if anyone were to tell her, it would be N. And he wouldn't tell that it's all of them. Only him and maybe Cyn, as he can pass that off as "well we ARE biological siblings after all".
Idk that's all I got for now.
Also Nori was either
killed by Khan after he found out she's a vampire
Died due to extended exposure to sunlight
Killed by vampire hunters
Majorly injured by hunters or the sun so Khan had to take her out of her miserly
:(
#murder drones#serial designation n#md#md au#au md#serial Designation v#seeial Designation j#tessa james elliot#cyn#md cyn#cyn murder drones#murder drones cyn#cyn md#md n#n md#md j#md v#v md#j md#md tessa#tessa md#vampires#humans#alternative universe#vampire & human au#system cyn#blood & bats#blood & bats au
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just watched the hannibal finale with haven. no one fucking talk to me for 15-20 business days PLEASE
#IM SO.#I AM SO??v#WND IM HUST SUPPOSED TO HE NORMAL NOW#IM SUPPOSED TO CARRY ON WITH MY DAY LIKE I DIDNT JUST WATCH ONE OF TBE BEST TELEVISION ENDINGS IN THE ENTIRE WORKD#IM SO DISTRAUGHT#IM SO UPSET#IM GOING TO START THEOWING THINFS AND SettiNG ITEMS ON FIRE#IM SOOOOOOOOOO. I canât even describe what iâm feeling.#i just need to hit several fragile items with a baseball bat#and then cover myself in blood and fall over the side of a cliff holding the love of my life in my arms maybe#WHAT THE FUCK. itâs fine iâm so normal. WHAT THE FUCK#/astro posts#i havenât really and truly Read Fic in like over a year but i need to absorb the entire hannigram tag into my bloodstream rn
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slowly but surely i am being tipped further and further towards just letting tim and damian murder each other. like straight up kill each other. out of love, of course
#spam brain#like i need them to be so fuckign violent its insane#if they aren't one wrong move away from killing each other. what even is the point.#the ONLY 2 exceptions in my mind r when they r an equally evil and deranged serial murderer power couple OR when they r literal twins#that's it. i have v specific tastes apparently. they include blood#i want them. to kill each otehr. yeah.#timdami#damitim#Tim Drake#Damian Wayne#DC Comics#Bat Clan
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When it comes to horny art esp in FEH like. I'm always split between "I don't wanna be sex negative and prudish that's stupid" and "Okay but there IS a misogyny problem (specifically about how female characters are portrayed/treated)" and "I'm Sorry Women (I do like huge titties and stupid slutty outfits)" and "I'm a huge anatomy nerd and what's pissing me off the most are the shit proportions here actually"
^ This user is on the asexuality spectrum.
#i don't wanna start discourse about it LMFAOOO it's just. the motions i am constantly going through#i think there is a difference between official artwork that is essentially a product being sold to you#vs independent artists who regardless of it they're selling their art. somehow there's a difference there#like i think horny/fetish art is so fucking important and worth protecting/going to bat for#esp the joker voice Society. cannot fucking take myself seriously LMFAOO BUT#idk idk. head empty. there's probably something there though.#i'm just stuck on an endless loop about it whenever something like a loki incident happens LMFAOOOO#that said though if any feh artist gives sharena an extremely sexualized alt i WILL have to kill them in cold blood.#and then the loop keeps fucking going like. it needs to be tasteful. she can be attractive. but it needs to be tasteful#and then the loop KEEPS GOING. like ohhh are you adsigning morality to art?? I DON'T THINK SO?????#i'm just devastingly demisexual about everything like. i love loki's new alt bc all things considered#it suits her. you can argue about the merit of Creating A Chara like her. but like. grah another endless loop#but it would NOT suit sharena#she would be SO uncomfortable. she would probably be found in the bathroom crying about it.#and then there's more complicated situations like plumeria.#i think her ny alt suits her v well. she is the elegant type. i am going to kill whoever made her summer alt.#and that's coming from a guy who's FAVORITE ALTS. ARE THE SUMMER ALTS#idk idk. i am incomprehensible even to myself.
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{ @queenxvixens asked for a starter for Lexi Branson. }
Being dead wasn't exactly Kol's favorite thing. Being daggered wasn't either, but at least when he was asleep in his coffin he was alone and unaware of the passage of time. The Other Side though...it was full of faces he'd rather not see again, and on the whole there was little to do but watch the living if you didn't wish to go mad from the perpetual boredom. Thankfully, the goings on of Mystic Falls were somewhat entertaining. A bit too much like a daytime soap opera for his tastes, but beggars couldn't be choosers. They could, however, complain.
"You know what would make the afterlife better?" Kol asked the vaguely familiar looking blonde currently watching the latest on the messy love triangle that was Stefan/Elena/Damon unfold. "Booze. But no, of course there's no bloody alcohol here. Nor any popcorn. Who the hell came up with this place? I'd like to have a word."
#queenxvixens#Kol Mikaelson#V: Blood & Bats#T: Friends On The Other Side#Take Your Queue From The Devil
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Tfw a scene hits you with such force and clarity, it's absolutely like a religious vision
When Astarion gets up in the middle of the night to handle the twins so they will be quiet and let Mercy sleep, Mercy sneaks off to the undercity ruins. Theyre gone for hours hunting any Bhaalists who are trying to maintain the ruins, slaughtering the Bhaalists, and then going to the altar to yell directly at Bhaal, only to be met with silence. Mercy screaming that he couldn't take anything else from them. They'd make damn sure of it. Just never saying "You took everything you wanted from me, but you cannot have the twins." And it's a threat. One that isn't answered.
Then returning to a fretting Astarion (bc they're both still unlearning their codependency)
#bat rambles#durge and astarion are still working through toxic habits after the tadpoles are dealt with#they're both codependent and until this point havent had to be separated#or even like exist in a way that wasnt together#Mercyâs his emotional support person#and mercy is a guard dog who needs a job and their job is protecting Astarion so no one can get close#while he shoots an arrow through their throat#but now mercy also is feeling protective of the twins#not even maternal projectiveness or anything#they just can see who they were in the twins and if they got a chance#even with them spilling so much blood their body remembers what their mind cannot#mercy got a second chance and theyre going to extend that to the kids#it's just complicated and scary#astarion is still very much in his head and just performing so he doesnt have to think about the Horrors#he's just playing 5D short-term chess but he doesnt think of the twins as people yet#at best theyre like disgusting little gnolls#tolerating bc he can see Mercy isnt rejecting them#and mercy is like preparing for him to be like. this is NOT what i want#even tho he's absolutely thinking to himself it's barely a blip in his immortal life span#the time needed to rear the kids enough to be self sufficient and independent is nothing#but mercy will NOT ask him to stay they would never ask him to do something they think he may not wanna do#but bc no communication he's very confused about why they're so fucking angry at him all of a sudden#bc theyre pushing him away#their act 1 relationship was v much defined by communication issues by two people who dont know who they are#never love an anchor
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tag dump.
i. â â ââ no.1 dick grayson likerâ : â â ooc.
ii. â â ââ your strength is in your weaknessâ : â â character study.
iii. â â ââ birdâs eye viewâ : â â musing.
iv. â â ââ shepherd of the damned â : â â promo.
v. â â ââ you can always learn to flyâ : â â inbox.
vi. â â ââ pretend youâre like a featherâ : â â answered.
vii. â â ââ canât clip these wingsâ : â â reply.
viii. â â ââ master of the trapezeâ : â â dash games.
ix. â â ââ breathing in applauseâ : â â memes.
x. â â ââ familiar taste of poisonâ : â â nsfw.
xi. â â ââ runaway at heartâ : â â headcanons.
xii. â â ââ the wings of icarusâ : â â comic panels.
a. â â ââ letter to his fatherâ : â â bruce&dick.
b. â â ââ of bats and birdsâ : â â bat-siblings.
c. â â ââ forever and alwaysâ : â â donna&dick.
d. â â ââ you were my robinâ : â â damian&dick.
e. â â ââ arrowâs wingâ : â â roy&dick.
connection. â â ââ .blood-sonâ : â â robin v.
connection. â â ââ .pistoietâ : â â the black widow.
connection. â â ââ .taissakingston â : â â mutant musician / activist.
connection. â â ââ .pennyw0rth â : â â penny-one.
connection. â â ââ .daring-archer â : â â arsenal.
#i. â â ââ no.1 dick grayson likerâ : â â ooc.#ii. â â ââ your strength is in your weaknessâ : â â character study.#iii. â â ââ birdâs eye viewâ : â â musing.#iv. â â ââ shepherd of the damned â : â â promo.#v. â â ââ you can always learn to flyâ : â â inbox.#vi. â â ââ pretend youâre like a featherâ : â â answered.#vii. â â ââ canât clip these wingsâ : â â reply.#viii. â â ââ master of the trapezeâ : â â dash games.#ix. â â ââ breathing in applauseâ : â â memes.#x. â â ââ familiar taste of poisonâ : â â nsfw.#xi. â â ââ runaway at heartâ : â â headcanons.#xii. â â ââ the wings of icarusâ : â â comic panels.#a. â â ââ letter to his fatherâ : â â bruce&dick.#b. â â ââ of bats and birdsâ : â â bat-siblings.#c. â â ââ forever and alwaysâ : â â donna&dick.#d. â â ââ you were my robinâ : â â damian&dick.#e. â â ââ arrowâs wingâ : â â roy&dick.#connection. â â ââ .blood-sonâ : â â robin v.#connection. â â ââ .pistoietâ : â â the black widow.#connection. â â ââ .taissakingston â : â â mutant musician/activist.#connection. â â ââ .pennyw0rth â : â â penny-one.#connection. â â ââ .daring-archer â : â â arsenal.
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DUDE
Detective Comics #1070 - âGrand Design IIâ (2023)
written by Ram V art by Stefano Raffaele & Adriano Lucas
#DC#Blood#Batman#Bruce Wayne#Catwoman#Selina Kyle#RAM V YOU ABSOLUTE MADMAN#This run has been the utmost DELIGHT for me#Holy SHIT RAM V#I am going fucking INSANE about the ambiguity over Barbatos#I know this still doesn't give a fucking answer but it's a crumb of SOMETHING#It might be a weird detail for me to fixate on but have you SEEN the pages with the ambiguous bat demon this run?#And everything else too#Example being Bruce's internal monologue like#'Who will remember the roses'#There's just. So fucking much going on#I can't articulate well or properly#I feel like that reaction image with a figure just fucking#snarling with a thing in its mouth and shaking it violently#dc comics#addition +
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Lil thought process. Lil one.
Wears gloves while doing dishes: Fin, Cinn, Node, Rust, Tempest.
Doesnât wear gloves while doing dishes: Arwen, Murk, Strawbeet, Bless.
The fuckâre dishes?: Tenebrosity.
#itâs hard to say where all of it begins and i end | headcanons#//but was thinking about how I use hand sanitizer b/c the feeling of my wet hands touching nearly makes me puke every time#//and that led to âwho uses gloves while cleaning dishesâ#//everyone who does generally has a valid reason tbh#//F1n sometimes has hazardous potions to cleanse#//C1nn and N0de are based on me (as is Temps to an extent) so theyâre all v texture-sensitive#//and R.st doesnâtâŠwellâŠitâs in the name-#If I could see/How you see me/I could be/A little bit happy | Arwen the Cat-Bat#Iâll keep punching âtil my knuckles start breaking/Iâll keep going through the blood that Iâm tasting | Cinn the Cheetah-Fox#Iâm gonna do it my way/Take this for just what it is | Fin the Galago#Sticks and stones wonât break my bones/But your name might crack me | Mephiles âMurkâ the Dark#Behind this soft exterior/Lies a warrior | Node the Fennec Fox#Once a temple/Now a tomb/Step to me/Iâll bury you | Shadow âRustâ the Hedgehog#Hanging on the edge of tomorrow/From the works of yesterday | Sonic âBlessâ the Hedgehog#Everybody loves me cause Iâm two faced/Cause I pretend that nothingâs wrong | Strawbeet âStrawâ the Quokka#Shoot out the lights/Thereâs a fire in the sky/Burning it all/The black ash will fall | Tempest Lock#I wish there was another way out/For you | Dark Gaia âTenebrosityâ
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I'm working on "Blood & Bats" and that includes surnames and characters races and Ethnical backgrounds.
Send me your Race & Ethnicity hcs as well as surname ideas for the MD characters please? (This includes side characters like Uzis class & Ron!! Please send those!!!)
Disclaimer: the story doesn't take place on earth. The generation of the parents & grandparents are moved to Copper-9 due to overpopulation. In this AU C-9 never had an exploded core and is still inhabited by organic life. This is for their families backgrounds from when they moved from earth & to add some details like cultural foods in the narrative
So far in the AU I settled on the following;
Doorman Family:
Uzi - Blasian (see parents for specifics, you can't talk me out of making her Blasian bc I love that common hc)
Nori - Filipino, Japanese
Khan - Black or Blasian, undecided (The name Khan is a Turko-Mongol surname [apparently not commonly used as first name], so I might have Turkish and/or Mongolian in there. But it's also commonly found in India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Bangladesh, and Iran. So I'm unsure what to go for)
Dolls Family stays Russian, needs a Surname
Elliott family:
Tessa, James & Louisa stay Australian
N & Cyn - British
V - Dutch
J - mixed, undecided
Teacher-Family (need Surname):
Thad - Filipino (Teachers Step Son)
Ron - Filipino (Thads maternal uncle)
Lizzy - either fully Filipino or mixed (Thad's half sister)
Teacher - either Filipino or smth else
???, deceased (Thad & Lizzys mom) - Filipino
Need help for pretty much anyone else and anything I listed needing help with here.
#blood & bats#blood & bats au#human au#vampire au#murder drones#md#uzi doorman#khan doorman#serial Designation J#Lizzy md#teacher md#Ron md#sam md#Rebecca md#emily md#darren md#braiden md#doll md#yeva md#doll's dad md#idk if im forgetting anyone#im only tagging who i can think of needing help for#not too bothered by J N V & Cyn birth surnames but#if you want to suggest those go ahead ig#headcanons#send me your headcanons
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My entry for VRising's Art Contest - Malevolent Monsters! It's called Frost Wing, the flying terror of the Hallowed Mountains!
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License to Kill
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Marital bliss becomes a bloody massacre within hours of your wedding. Bucky has run the gamut of organized crime from gunrunning to public extortion, but an attempt on your life is a whole different ballgame. A honeymoon-turned-manhunt has Bucky out for blood.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Semi-public sex. Beefy, mob boss Bucky really wants to give you a baby. Praise kink. Size kink. Facefucking. Sex on a private jet. Attempted murder. Arms trafficking. Guerrilla warfare.
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Any postnuptial banquet was bound to be the talk of Santorini when a groom arrived beaten half to death.
At least that was what youâd told yourself, what had plagued your mind for hours before the start of brunch, and what Bucky presently refused to acknowledge with so much as a bat of his eye or a word spoken in between.
âYou worry too much,â he said as he sheathed himself inside you for the third time that morning.
Bucky seized your throat in one hand and tilted your chin to make sure you were capable of eye contact while he fucked you in front of the mirror. It didnât seem to bother him at all that the face in his own reflection was bruised, bloodied, and sewn up like a patchwork quilt behind you.
Hazards of the job, heâd said.
Three masked assailants breaking into your villa the first night of honeymooning? Customary. Being yanked out of bed and made to kneel as your husband took the beating of a lifetime just minutes after consummating your marriage? More common than you would think.
Bucky hadnât even blinked when he got pistol whipped by a gold-plated Beretta. Didnât flinch when he was held to a wall and pummeled like a freestanding punch bag.
Almost smiled when he took a hard right hook to the nose and felt a torrent of blood flood out of his nostrils.
If anyone were to be accused of behaving too calmly in a home invasion, it would be Bucky Barnes. It seemed as though heâd seen this all before and had no qualms about getting the shit kicked out of him every now and then. Why he hadnât so much as lifted a finger to fight back was still beyond your comprehension, though.
At length, he tightened his grip on your neck and tried to smile, his upper lip slashed in two and bruised a grim, violet hue.
âWhoâs my girl?â he murmured an inch from your ear.
You whined when he delivered a particularly hard thrust, both of your hands flying to the mirror to steady yourself as he pounded you from behind.
âI-I am,â you whimpered.
The stretch was still something you were getting used to, but now Bucky knew just how to spread you open without making it hurt. Heâd glide a thick finger between your folds, slide it down to your clit, and leave it there as long as youâd let him, rubbing quick circles while you bucked and moaned under his touch. And, in spite of all his cuts and bruises, your husband made sure to kiss your shoulder every now and then to let you know he still loved youâeven if he was fucking you like he didnât.
Bucky trailed his lips behind your ear and watched you writhe in time with every stroke he gave. Pressed his face close to yours, watched a desperate, fucked-out expression take over your features, and smiled to himself knowing that no one but him got to see you like this.
âWho likes getting stuffed full of this cock?â he taunted.
âI do.â
âWho loves making daddy feel this good?â
âI do.â
He never thought the sound of your vows could be repeated out loud in such an obscene wayâhis sweet bride bent in half with a thick, throbbing cock wedged between her legsâbut he loved it nonetheless.
Bucky was rutting his hips at a breakneck pace and holding your head to the mirror like heâd never let go. Your climax was quickly coming close into view, and you felt your toes curl in the hardwood floor beneath them.
Suddenly, the chirp of a ringtone diverted your attention.
Bucky brought his phone to his ear as he continued to pound you mercilessly.
âYeah, Steve?â
The mob bossâs business never took a break, it seemed.
âSo what?â
âYeah, no, I heard you the first time.â
âWell, Iâm plowing my wife right now, can it wait?â
Your cheeks warmed with embarrassment at Buckyâs blunt choice of words. You saw his brow pinch behind you, his thrusts getting faster and sloppier, and in spite of the distraction, you sensed he was getting close too.
You yourself were right on the brink. Your gaze met Buckyâs in the mirror with a soft, pleading look, and before you knew it, your husband was bidding an abrupt farewell to his friend and chucking his phone to the side.
âReady to cum for me, honey?â
You whimpered and nodded.
âAlright then,â Bucky said with a near-expectant look, weaving the fingers of one hand into your hair and pulling it back, tight, âCum all over daddyâs cock.â
With a shriek you feared might carry throughout the whole banquet hall, you finally reached your peak and released around Buckyâs length, tears springing to your eyes as you closed them tight and moaned his name.
And, ever the cheeky fuck, Bucky leaned right in and kissed the sides of your face to collect all the moisture he couldââShit, honey, you taste as good as you lookââwhile he smirked. Wouldâve grinned even bigger if he wasnât so overcome with pleasure; but, as it was, he couldnât keep from blowing his load just seconds after the last spasms of your orgasm. Bucky leaned over your torso and squeezed your body tight to his, fucking his cum deep inside you as far as it could possibly go.
For a few, dizzying moments, the manâs mind wandered to more primal thoughts of making it stick, knocking you up, and Bucky had to clench his jaw hard to suppress the groans that were threatening to spill through his teeth. Every time he fucked you, it was like something just clicked; he couldnât rid the thought of giving you a baby.
But no, for now, the two of you were still on wedding time; before you could jet off to your real honeymoon destinationâsomeplace in the Caribbean, if Bucky remembered correctlyâyour mother had insisted that you host one post-wedding event that day: a brunch.
Naturally, that meant you were obliged to serve a four-course meal on the terrace of the Canaves Oia Hotel.
The mother of the bride had been one hell of a staunch advocate for keeping this wedding party going as long as possible, and who was Bucky to tell her no? He reasoned he would have plenty of time to get you pregnant after all the wedding festivities had ended, so he didnât mind.
At present, you tugged your panties and your dress back into place with a wince.
âI think you displaced my cervix, James.â
Bucky couldnât deny he felt the smallest twinge of pride seeing you walk a little funny to collect the rest of your belongings and attempt to freshen up. It also gave him the perfect excuse to scoop you back up in his arms and pretend to be apologetic about your present dilemma.
âDid I really?â he asked as you giggled and tried to swat him away, âIâm awfully sorry, Mrs. Barnes.â
âLike hell you are.â
With Bucky still draped over your body, proffering his apologies again and again as he assailed your face with tiny kisses, youâd barely made it two feet toward the door before you collapsed against a table and almost toppled a centerpiece. The pair of you would be expected outside any minute now, where the rest of your post-wedding party was likely trickling in and wondering where the hell the bride and groom had gone, but Bucky seemed adamant on keeping you to himself a little while longer.
That was until the back exit swung on its hinges and a familiar, frazzled groomsman stumbled in.
âCan you horndogs hurry the hell up?!â
So Sam had heard you after all.
You just mightâve blushed if you werenât being pushed out the door a second later, the hurried, chiding tone of your husbandâs friend ringing low in your ears.
âYour old manâs ready to hit the roof,â he mumbled to Bucky, âWonât start drinking until you two show face.â
âProbably still thinks my bride escaped in the middle of the night,â Bucky mused, flitting a look to you.
The man behind rolled his eyes and continued to usher you both outside. Sam Wilson knew exactly what had happened last night; heâd been the one to bring in the cavalry to save you both from imminent death, after all.
As you had come to find out, Sam wasnât just a friend of your husbandâs but also a close associate of sortsâthe kind that would wait in the wings and do whatever it took to keep Bucky safe. When the wait staff at the villa hadnât been able to reach you for room service delivery last night, reporting some âstrange soundsâ inside, Mr. Wilson had sprung into action. Called the rest of your husbandâs entourage and was up to your room in minutes, where theyâd dealt a swift, and final, blow to your attackers. You hadnât asked many questions afterâjust thanked him. Profusely.
âYou look like hell,â the man observed with a sidelong glance in his friendâs direction.
âReally? I feel great,â Bucky replied.
The three of you weaved through a crowd of partygoersâevery single one of whom, without exception, stopped and stared at your husbandâs mangled face as he passedâand you started to chew the inside of your cheek. People were gawking, talking amongst themselves as they wondered aloud what the hell couldâve happened to the groom overnight. You felt their stares turn to you in a mixture of pity and reproach, and you wanted to hide.
âJa-ames!â a sing-song voice trilled across the way.
You, Bucky, and Sam all stopped in your tracks to regard the duo that was making their swift approach over.
Buckyâs mom and dad.
As the older couple drew near, you half-expected to see them take on the same wan, horror-stricken look worn by all those around you, but to your surprise, they didnât.
In fact, they didnât bat an eyelid. Seeing their sonâs face all gnarled and bloody barely even registered.
âGood, youâre here! The photographers just arrived.â Buckyâs mother swept you into her arms for a brief embrace before shooting her son a frown. Your husband, in turn, offered her an apologetic peck on the cheek.
âSorry, ma. We got caught up,â he said.
âSure looks like it.â
That came from the elder Mr. Barnes, who had stopped to give his son a quick once-over. He looked amused.
âGet in a fight with a grizzly last night?â he quipped.
âThree, actually,â Sam answered for Bucky, who was already grinning from ear-to-earâor as much as his facial lacerations would allow him.
You saw father and son exchange a brief, knowing look, before it was extinguished just as fast as it had come. Clearly, some sort of understanding had passed between them, and the old patriarch seemed pleased. Proud, even. You couldnât begin to imagine why.
âThe bruising shouldnât be too hard to edit out of the wedding pictures,â Buckyâs mother turned to you as she started to lead the group away, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, âItâs those damn lesions on his face that always give us trouble.â
She spoke so coolly about the trauma done to her son it damn near chilled you to the bone. You never thought the wife of a mobster would be oblivious to all the violence, but to talk as though this were just another day in the life as far as brutal beatings went was a little unnerving.
You strolled along and silently wondered what the fuck was wrong with this family. Then you realized, slowly, that this was your family now. Your stomach twisted.
When you got to the garden where the photographers were stationed, you saw your parents waiting, enrapt.
And, in a matter of seconds, you watched their expressions morph from exuberance to confusion to outright trepidation. Your father was quick to look away, but your mother clearly couldnât be bothered to stop ogling Buckyâs gruesome appearance. She forced a tight-lipped smile at the very last second and stretched her arms out to you as the five of you approached.
âYouâre glowing, my dear.â
She hugged you and, over your shoulder, tried to mask a discomfited look.
Your mother and father exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the group but seemed loath to linger on Bucky for more than a minute. Like they couldnât quite tell whether the honeymoon beatdown was fair game for discussion.
âPlaces, people!â
The photographers were lined up like a flock of paparazzi. Each standing, crouching, squatting with their cameras in their hands, trying to get just the right angle.
The person in charge quickly busied herself with directing and adjusting every one of your positions before the pictures were taken. Telling Buckyâs father to straighten his tie, your mother to brighten her smile, the bride to tilt her shoulders just a little bit more, and Bucky, would you please stop groping your wife?
That last command had come from his mother, actually. Bucky had been palming your ass above your dress, and his mom couldnât stand the thought of one camera capturing such crude behavior.
âMy hand slipped,â Bucky retorted, much to the amusement of a few photographers.
You and his mother gave him identical admonitory looks, but it was you who was close enough to say something.
Just when you opened your mouth to speak, though, an odd sense stopped you on a dime.
There was a warmth. In your panties. Then a slow and silent oozing sensation. You squeezed your thighs tight together and, instinctively, lowered your hand to your stomach, as if that would have any chance of stopping it.
A smirk tugged at Buckyâs lips just as the lead photographer told you all to smile and hold it.
âMy cum dripping out already?â he whispered, low as heâd ever spoken but still too loud for you to bear. His parents were literally standing right there.
âShut. Up.â You replied through gritted, smiling teeth.
âChin to me, Mrs. Barnes,â the lady in charge called out.
You did as you were told, and Buckyâs hand on your side pressed the flesh ever so slightly.
A series of shuttering sounds, then another directive.
âThink itâll stay in your panties?â Bucky managed delicately under his breath.
You didnât respond. At length, his seed was seeping out of your underwear. You bared an even brighter smile for the cameras and tried not to flinch when he squeezed you again.
âFeel it sliding down your thighs?â
âEyes forward, Mr. Barnes. Head up, andâhere, please.â
The man could barely peel his gaze, much less his hands, from your body. He stroked your hip with his thumb. Then, without warning, that same hand slid down to your rear and pushed into the fabric. You sucked in a breath.
âBucky.â
âWhat?â
âBehave,â you hissed, and from the corner of your eye you couldâve sworn you saw your mother turn her head.
Unfortunately for you, your husband would do no such thing. He just moved his hand even lower down your back and brushed the space around that spot with the tips of his fingers. You felt a shiver pass over you, along with a whole legion of goosebumps spreading fast across the skin.
If you werenât on camera and surrounded by family, you probably wouldâve liked to smack him upside the head.
As the cameras continued to fire away, Buckyâs touch trailed down to the outline of your panties through your dress and started rubbing small circles over the area.
âNow just the bride and groom!â
The rest of your family members stepped to the side, and it was only you and Bucky before the cameras now. Still smiling like bright, shiny dolls and communicating like ventriloquists, your lips barely moved as you spoke.
âHow âbout I push it back in?â
âBarnes, I will kill you.â
âNow kiss!â
At the direction of the lead photographer, you kissed your husband and felt a mixture of lust, hate, and love swell up inside of you. When you pulled apart, it was the latter of these three that was searing hot in your veins.
âI love you,â Bucky murmured with a grin.
âI love you, too.â
The rest of the morning passed away in much the same fashionâbeing pulled from place to place, person to person, while your filthy-minded husband kept whispering in your ear all the depraved things he was planning to do to you once he got you alone. It was romantic, in a way; just terrible for your poor panties.
You reluctantly mingled and laughed with some of the most boring people you thought youâd ever met in your lifeâthough perhaps you were a touch too horny to make a fair appraisalâand gradually, family and friends pulled you and Bucky further and further apart until you were just being carted around like show dogs and forced to hold the same conversation over and over again.
âYou look stunning.â
âBuckâs a lucky guy, Iâll tell you that.â
âAre you planning on having kids any time soon?â
You just smiled, nodded, and didnât have the guts to tell them that Buckyâs baby batter was baking inside you right now. That wouldâve been a fun one to watch the reactions from your uptight, intrusive relatives, though.
And speaking of Bucky, where the fuck had he gone?
Just twenty minutes ago heâd sworn he would have you bent over one of the hotel balconies overlooking the Aegean Sea, and now he was nowhere to be found.
Your parents were currently preoccupied with their second helpings of spanakopita, your in-laws draining mojitos like water, and Sam, like Bucky, completely MIA. No one else had seen hide nor hair of your husband in a little while, and frankly, your legs were growing tired of looking.
You let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Bucky sitting a ways away on the terrace with Sam and Steve huddled on either side of him. They looked to be deep in discussion.
Steve, Stevie, Rogers, or, simply, your husbandâs second in command, seemed strangely out of sorts as he clenched a fist and said something close to Buckyâs face.
You decided to let the three of them hash it out and to take a rain check on that balcony rendezvous for now.
At any rate, a pack of Pall Malls was calling your name.
You would fully concede this was a filthy habit you never should have startedâlike most fun things in lifeâbut the reprieve of a nicotine buzz was too tempting to refuse. You grabbed your clutch and took off toward the far end of the lawn, set for a small alcove apart from the party.
You slipped the lighter and cigarettes from your bag as you walked. The scent of pure salt and sea foam greeted your senses as soon as you drew close to the spotâless than a stoneâs throw away from the ocean.
Your hands had jammed the cancer stick in your mouth before your mind could make a single word of protest. You brought the lighter to life in your right palm and raised the flame to your cigarette until the end was lit.
Then you inhaled. Exhaled. Hoped no one would see you. You fanned the smoke from your face every so often.
Youâd taken up residence on a bench just shy of the beach, and finally, you could stretch your legs and rest.
Maybe indulge in some disgusting thoughts about your husband while you were at it.
If youâd told yourself just twenty-four hours ago that your mind and body would be on the fritz craving Buckyâs touch, you wouldnât have believed it. If someone had said sex, and cumming around someone you loved, was a worthwhile experience, you probably wouldâve told them they were full of shit. But here you were, splayed out on a bench by the shoreline thinking of nothing but the way your husbandâs cock felt inside you. Feeling his seed dried on your thigh and aching for a fourth helping.
You felt pathetic. Maybe you were.
In any case, you didnât really care.
You brought the near-spent cigarette up to your lips for the last couple puffs. When youâd plucked it back out, you heard someone clear their throat behind you.
Bucky! Your lust-addled brain all but squealed.
You turned much quicker than you meant and nearly jumped in your skin to see who was standing there.
A grinning, bright-eyed blond.
In a panic, you flicked your cigarette over your shoulder and forced a smile.
âHi.â
âHowdy.â
Okay, John Wayne, what the fuck? The man sounded, and looked, like something straight out of a western film.
âNo need to stop on my account,â he tipped his chin toward the cigarette on the ground, âI wonât snitch.â
His smile took on a shade of condescension, but the face seemed friendly enough. Then, to your surprise, he reached into his back pocket and retrieved something small and silver from it. He held it out to you.
âCourtesy of your husband,â he said.
You frowned. A flask?
âItâs not even noon,â you answered.
âBucky wanted me to relay the message that your mom invited a boatload more folks, and it donât seem theyâre fixinâ to leave anytime soon. Said you might need this.â
Gingerly, you accepted the gift and unscrewed the cap. You almost gagged when you got a whiff of pure vodka.
âFuckinâ A,â you coughed, âWhatâs this, nail polish remover?â
âStolichnaya. Canât talk shit until youâve tried it.â
Your eyes were still watering from the pungent stench of 80 proof spirits when you saw the manâs outstretched arm againâthis time, to shake your hand.
âJoey, by the way.â
You shook his hand and introduced yourself as well, blinking back a few tears.
âYouâre a friend of my husbandâs?â you asked.
âFrom the service, yeah. We go way back.â
You couldnât help but raise both brows in question.
âThe service,â you repeated.
âRussian Armed Forces,â Joey smiled.
And when the hell did Bucky plan on telling you he was a former foreign operative? You stared at the man before you in a medley of confusion and disbelief. Surely the thick Southern drawl had to mean he was joking.
âSorryâI thought you knew,â he said sheepishly.
Your husbandâs old comrade seemed genuinely contrite, blushing a shade of pink as he turned his gaze from you. You quickly regained your composure and flashed him a smile, insisting it was fine, just surprising to you is all.
âPerks of arranged marriage,â you said, âWeâre wed for life and I donât even know the guyâs job title.â
That earned a laugh from the tall, gaunt figure in front of you. His features visibly relaxed, and he wasnât smiling so smugly anymore. He motioned toward the bench.
âYou mind?â
âNot at all.â
You fished for a cigarette as Joey sat down beside you. When heâd taken a seat, you offered it to him, and he politely accepted.
With time, the two of you got to smoking and joking around with a little more ease. You didnât normally get to see that happenârarely seizing the opportunity to make friends of near-strangersâbut this weekend had already presented a bevy of firsts. What harm could a quick smoke break with Buckyâs old friend possibly do?
You found the man to be quick-witted and charming, if not marred by the slightest stain of conceit under the surface. He was objectively handsome: all cool, clean features with an unblemished demeanor and a set of brown eyes so light they almost appeared the color of honey in the sun. The only imperfection to be detected was a skewed, razor-thin scar on his chin. You werenât ashamed to admit he mightâve been your type maybe four or five years, and several degrees of naĂŻvetĂ©, earlier. But you had Bucky now; not even the most sublime, finely-chiseled Adonis could set your sights off of him.
You continued to smoke and shoot the shit.
âSo youâre a Puritan, then?â Joey said at length.
âHuh?â You leaned back to stretch.
âYou havenât touched that flask.â
You glanced down at the silver canteen between you. You picked it up.
âHavenât been into straight liquor since college,â you shrugged.
âBut itâs your wedding weekend,â Joey smirked, âThink it says somewhere in the rule book youâve gotta be hammered the whole time.â
âDoes it? I mustâve missed that one,â you hummed.
Rather than answer you verbally, Buckyâs old friend opted to snag the flask from your fingers and unscrew the top himself. Made an unusually bold move and took your chin in his other hand.
âOpen.â
âNo!â
You bared a tight smile to be polite, but inside, you were more than a little put off by his behavior. Maybe this was some stupid rite of passage into their âbrotherhood.â You had to assume he was just being friendly.
âCâmon. Quit bitchinâ and open up,â he chuckled, pinching your face even tighter.
That left an even more sour taste in your mouth. You jerked your head to the left and were just about to inform the man itâd cost him nothing to fuck off and stay off, when a voice broke out through the foliage behind you.
âHoney? Hon, you there?â
Immediate relief at hearing your husbandâs voice.
You craned your neck to look around.
âIâm here, Bucky!â You waved an arm to try and get his attention, wherever he was.
It took him a second, but shortly, he appeared on the other side of some trees. He had a stern, if not slightly sallow, look on his face as he made his way over.
You turned back to Joey but found that heâd vanished. Your eyes scanned the beach, the lawn, even the bushes behind you and couldnât find a trace of him anywhere. All that was left was the flask.
âBucky, I justââ
âWe need to go,â your husband cut in.
His narrowed, steely gaze sent a jolt of apprehension through you.
âGo whââ
âNow, baby, please. Iâll tell you in the car.â
Your face dropped.
âWeâre leaving?â
Shortly, Steve trotted over. Bleak as youâd ever seen him with his hands balled in fists at his sides. And a deep-set scowl.
âWhole fuckinâ swarm of âem now,â he pronounced.
Bucky didnât wait to hear another word. He just grabbed your hand and joined his friend sprinting back up the lawn. You could barely keep apace with their steps and, still clinging to Bucky, almost tripped and stumbled.
âGet the fuck up,â Steve spat.
You tensed. For a second, your feet scarcely moved of their own accord as you trailed behind Bucky and felt a stabbing feeling in your gut. Buckyâs best man had surely been a little rough around the edges before, but never this needlessly cruel. What did you do?
Your husband delivered an uncharacteristically gruff shove to the manâs shoulder and made sure he felt it.
âDonât you start this shit again,â he said, âLay off.â
Steve ignored him entirely and took the lead around the hotelâs perimeter. You glanced to the throngs of partygoers still scattered along the veranda and saw similar looks of disquiet and alarm all around.
Just when a dozen different questions of what was going on, where were they taking you, and why the fuck did everyone look so afraid bubbled to the tip of your tongue, a thunderous sound brought you to a standstill.
At the opposite end of the plaza, a cluster of tents, tables, and catering stations all splintered apart in a single, headlong explosion. A bright red column of fire shot up toward the sky, and following its ascent rose a wave of shrill and horrified screams alongside it. A barrage of gunfire rained over the crowd, and before you could even spare a look toward its source, Bucky yanked you flat on the ground. Your hands and knees were shredded across pavement, had less than a second to register the pain, and were shortly made to snake along concrete and glass toward the garden down below.
You crawled, then crouched, then bounded down the lawn following Bucky and Steve like a bat out of hell. Another explosion sounded nearbyâthis time much closer, sending a shower of flames sailing through the air and all overâand whole droves of people just dropped. Facedown in the grass and covered in glass. Bucky clamped your hand in his own with a force that couldâve snapped it in two, but you didnât blink. All of your senses were kicked into overdrive and focalized, unflinching, on the sight of more carnage than you could comprehend.
âHere!â Steve called presently.
He caught sight of a jet black sedan at the edge of the lawn and held a hand up to Bucky. A set of keys were promptly pelted into his grasp, and the three of you closed in on the car, quick, without another word.
Bucky tore the back door open and practically flung you inside. He primed himself to climb in right after, when a set of footsteps and a shout held him locked in place.
âHangarâs clear.â
Sam, by the sound of it.
He jumped in shotgun while Steve seized the wheel. Bucky hadnât gotten the back door so much as halfway shut before the engine roared to life and the car lurched ahead. Not thinking, you grabbed hold of a seatbelt, but Bucky was quick to pull you in and jerk you down.
You werenât sure what youâd been expecting then, but it certainly wasnât your husbandâs weight crushing you from above as he pinned you to the floor of the car.
This wasnât the seamless, smart exit that the heroes of the action-packed stories always had. Bucky didnât hold you tight in his arms or cradle your head to his chest. He just draped the weight of his whole body over yours and begged you strenuously not to move or make a sound. By the looks of it, too, the car was tearing up the turf of the lawn and anything else that happened to cross its path; there was no rhyme or reason to Steveâs driving, it seemed, just frantic desperation and a will not to die.
Minutes, seconds, sights, and soundsâor what little of the world you could grasp from your cowered positionâall bled together in a haze. Your pulse leapt and throbbed between your ears, and little more could be heard above that sound apart from the thrum of Buckyâs own heart, the thunder of gunfire, and the wail of sirens, coming low and faint and far too late to make much difference now.
You pressed your nose to the floor and got a dizzying whiff of nylon and bleach. Wouldâve like to retch but gritted your teeth instead, lying in silence and wondering without humor if the splinters, the soot, or the blood would be hardest to wash out of your white satin dress.
The price of admission to board Buckyâs Boeing 787 came surprisingly cheap: just sit back and be âpregnant.â
Youâd been flanked by medics as soon as you arrived at the hangarâa place tucked away just a few short miles from the hotel, where Bucky kept his aircraft for speedy escapes, apparentlyâand had been carried onto a jet. You didnât squirm or protest, just hung limply in their arms and let them tend to you however they needed.
After all, you looked like fucking Carrie White on prom night: coated in blood and stiff as a board. Sitting with a thousand-yard stare and a frozen, muted expression as you tried, and failed, to process what had just happened.
You watched Bucky kneel down in front of you and hardly saw him at all. You sensed him stroke your hair but felt it from a place somewhere far outside your body. Bizarre was an understatement. All you could do was blink.
âItâs notâ not her blood, is it?â your husband stammered, gesturing toward your dress.
âSome of it,â one nurse answered quietly.
Aw, hell. Bucky squatted on the floor and slotted himself between your knees, trying to get as close as possible so he could make you say something, even just see him. One of the attendants raised a warning look and placed a hand on his shoulder, which he shrugged off in a second.
âSheâs not looking at me,â Buckyâs lip visibly trembled as he drew you closer, âHoney, Iâm hereâ Iâm right hââ
âSheâs in shock.â Another voice came flatly.
Sure, shock works. In truth, your mind was floating somewhere even higher than the 43,000 feet the plane had ascended, and your brain had gone as soft as a clump of cotton candy in the rain. You couldnât speak, but you could think in bits and pieces. You blinked again.
âShe looks like death warmed over.â
Thank you, Steve.
Off to the side in a plush, leather seat of his own, the man nursed a scotch on the rocks and frowned. Bucky didnât have the strength to throw a punch or a pillow at his head and instead said only to shut the fuck up, man.
Your husband turned to the nurses again.
âSheâs pregnant.â
I beg your finest pardon? You blinked a bit harder.
âNo, sheâs not, Buck,â Sam said from down the aisle.
âWell, she could be,â Bucky chided, âWeâve been going at it like rabbits since theââ
âFuckâs sake,â Steve slapped a palm over his forehead. If you werenât currently balls-deep in a state of mental disarray you probably wouldâve done the same.
Bucky had made sure to tell all medical personnel aboard the plane that you wereâor very well could beâcarrying his child, so would you please take all precautionary measures possible? Sheâs my wife. You suspected if the doctors and nurses werenât all on Buckyâs payroll they probably wouldâve rolled their eyes and reminded him that all you needed were stitches, dressings, and extra fluids. And no, Mr. Barnes, your wife probably isnât pregnant, even if you think your sperm is âbuilt differentâ than most.
âSheâll be fine either way,â the medic on your left said, stifling a chuckle. Wondering if the man had ever taken a sex ed class in his years of prudish, private education.
Bucky wasnât convinced. Against all physiciansâ wishes, he climbed up beside you in the seat and pulled you into his lap with both arms wrapped around your waist.
By turns, the world was coming back into focus for you. You met Buckyâs gaze for the first time, and the man looked overjoyed.
âSee? See? Sheâs back.â Bucky squeezed your hipâand immediately released it when you winced.
âMind the bandages, Mr. Barnes.â
Your caregivers pro tempore shot your husband a couple wry looks as they packed their supplies and started to leave, getting the sense that their boss wasnât going to stop badgering them, or you, anytime soon. That worked just fine for Bucky, because then he would get to hold you any way that he liked, as long as youâd let him.
Steve, on the other hand, didnât seem quite as thrilled.
Sam watched the medicsâ departure with a wary look.
âShe probably needs to rest, Bucky,â the latter said, careful with his words.
Buckyâs eyes never strayed from yours.
âSheâs okay, Sam. Sheâs good.â Perhaps speaking more to himself than anyone else. Steve shifted in his seat.
In your periphery, Mr. Wilson was approaching with a glass in his hand. You turned your head, and Bucky accepted the cup of water for you.
âFeelinâ alright?â Sam asked.
You tried to nod, but your husband was already cradling your head like a baby, urging you to take your first sip.
A spate of water splashed down the front of your dress. You shot Bucky a look as he hastily tried to dry it.
âSheâs not a child, Barnes,â Steve muttered.
âShould probably keep that elevated,â Sam cut in, nodding toward your swollen ankle, âWeâll get some ice.â
Sam tilted his head again, this time to motion to Steve. His friend pretended not to see him, and then Bucky was back on his feet, keen as ever,
âIâll go.â
He kissed the top of your head and assured you heâd be right back. Heâd just started off toward the door, when Sam hesitated. He flitted a quick look between you and Steve and looked like he wanted to say something, but Bucky was already ushering him out of the room.
When you turned to Steve, you understood why.
The man had you pinned with a stare that couldâve killed you ten times over, fisting his drink in a white-knuckled grip.
You watched him right back. Tried hard not to blink.
âSomething wrong?â
You werenât sure how youâd even mustered the strength to speak. Steve just brought it out of you, you figured.
âYou tell me.â Tone dripping with disdain.
You raked your gaze over the man for a second, finding him dressed head-to-toe in his three piece suitâmuddied with blood here and there, but still no worse for wear than youâd seen him an hour or two ago. It was that frown you couldnât shake.
What had you done to piss him off so much? Shit in his cornflakes? Step on his toe? Had he seen you with Joey and jumped to the worst possible conclusion? You sincerely couldnât make sense of the manâs indignation, so you wanted to ask him directly; before you could, though, Steve was interjecting, at length,
âWe shouldâve left you to die with the rest of your family.â
Your jaw slackened a bit.
âWhat?â
âYou, your mother, your two-timing shitstain of a father. Every one of you shouldâve stayed there to rot.â
Never mind the fact that heâd just wished you dead to your faceâwhat did he mean about your parents?
âBut theyâre coming with us. Bucky said,â you managed.
âHe did?â Steve grinned humorlessly, âHe lied, doll. Your folks are probably bound and gagged at the bottom of the ocean right now.â
That sent the first real wave of fear pulsing through you. You slowly rose to your feet but, feeling yourself restrained by the makeshift IV line stuck in your skin, you stopped. You plucked the needle out of your arm.
âWhat are you talking about?â
You drew closer to Steve, who only sat back and sipped his scotch with amusement.
âWhat? That wasnât part of the plan?â he quirked a brow, âDidnât think anyone would dare lay a finger on your precious, self-righteous fucking familyââ
You hardly even noticed youâd swatted Steveâs drink out of his hand until the glass went shattering on the floor. You blinked and raised a shaky, bruised finger about an inch from his face.
âThe fuck did you just say to me?â Your jaw was clenched so tight you had to speak through your teeth.
Steve was beaming.
The door to the room flew open, and Bucky and Sam strolled in with their ice packs and pillows. They stopped when they saw the glass on the floor and your figure looming over Steve.
âYou picked a real spitfire, Buck,â the blond called out, his hands raised in surrender as he smiled up at you.
Bucky seemed more surprised that you were able to stand, much less take that menacing stance over his friend, and he quickly tried to guide you back to your seat. You wouldnât budge.
âWhat the fuck are you talking about?! Where are my parents?â You tried to shake your husband off as Steveâs grin grew even bigger.
âTheyâre fine, honey. Sit down, please,â Bucky mumbled.
âNo! He said they were dead!â you shot back, eyes never leaving the smug, smirking face that seemed to be enthralled by the spectacle in front of him.
âWhy donât you tell her, Buck? Girl deserves to know.â
âShut the fuck up, Rogers,â Sam uttered quietly.
âTell me what?â
âItâs nothing, your parents are fine,â Bucky seemed pensive now, gaze scanning the ceiling for a second as he tried to collect his thoughts. You shoved his hands off.
âDonât you fucking lie to me, James,â you said, diverting your attention to glare up at him, âWhatâs going on?â
âEither sheâs a world-class actress or she really doesnât have the first clue about this. Enlighten her.â Steve seemed a little more serene as he unscrewed a bottle of Talisker and reached for a second glass. You wouldâve liked to knock back one or twoâor tenâyourself.
You turned on your heels to face Bucky. At the moment, he seemed torn between imparting a death black stare on Steve and a placating, apologetic one to you. The tips of his ears were tinged pink.
âBabyââ He reached for you, but you pulled back.
âNo.â
You wouldnât ask him again. Your husband was wounded by the sight of your recoilâand perhaps by some painful truths heâd be compelled to share as wellâand he wrung his hands. Started to chew the inside of his cheek.
Sam snagged the scotch and made a heavy pour.
âWhyâd you marry him?â Steve said suddenly.
Buckyâs face dropped; you raised a brow in question. Before your husband could stop you, you answered,
âBecause my dad was in debt.â
âFor what?â
You paused.
âReal estate. Gambling. Fuck if I know.â
Steve nodded. Ignored Buckyâs sharp, reproachful gaze.
âAnd how much money did he owe?â he asked.
âSteve,â Sam warned.
âFour, five millionâmore than he could ever repay.â
This time, it was Steve to raise both brows as he mulled over your response. He almost looked surprised.
âYouâre forced to marry a man just to settle a debt and you donât even know the price that tight little bodyâs paying?â he scoffed.
His words hadnât hung in the air for much longer than a second before Bucky decked him, shoving him square in the chest and sending him stumbling back a couple steps. A splash of whiskey was quick to join the bloodstains adorning Steveâs tux, and the pile of broken glass on the floor grew even bigger. The man hardly flinched when Bucky shoved his head to the end table.
âSay it again.â Your husband sounded dispassionate as ever. Like this was something he was used to doing.
âShe shouldâve known!â Steve snapped anyway.
You shared a brief look with Sam but found his expression inscrutable. He kicked a few shards of glass with the toe of his shoe.
âI wasnât exactly in a place to negotiate,â you grumbled, âThey were going to kill my father if we didnât settle it, so I wasnât all that interested in knowing how much money my A1 cunt was gonna cost Bucky. Personally.â
If he could go low, you would go lower. Fuck him.
You saw Steve grin through a freshly busted lip and straighten himself back into a seated position. He wiped the blood with the pad of his thumb while Bucky seemed to contemplate swinging again. The look in your eye cautioned him against it.
âFair enough,â Steve conceded. He stopped to consider his wordsâones that wouldnât prompt Bucky to punch him directly in the throatâand looked to you, curious,
âWhy would the mob kill him over a few million dollars?â
You shrugged.
âHeâs a real estate broker. They probably knew he couldnât fork over that kind of cash.â
Something akin to a stifled chuckle and a cough sounded from Sam, while Steve outright broke out laughing. Even Buckyâs expression softened a little as he rubbed his knuckles and paced closer to you.
âWhat?â you spat, âDid I say something funny?â
Sam shook his head slowly, starting, âI donât thinkââ
âYour daddyâs a fucking gunrunner, sugar,â Steve wheezed, âHead of a multinational arms trafficking syndicateâmotherfucker is not selling houses.â
Your insides churned with a mixture of disbelief and revulsion, but you couldnât let them see that. When Bucky reached for your hand, you yanked it back again.
âAnd how the fuck would you know?â you said to Steve.
âWe work with him. Used to work for him, at one point,â Sam answered.
âAnd the man is horseshit at businessââSteve paused to see if Bucky had shot him a warning look but found your husband far too concerned with capturing your attentionââHe was $90 million in the hole when Bucky came to the rescue.â
âJames?â You finally turned to him.
âAnd your daddy didnât even owe the money to Bucky, he owed it to HYDRA,â Steve sneered.
âJames,â you pressed again.
You couldnât understand why your husband refused to speakâgoing as deadpan and radio silent as the night before. He stood there and watched you with a rigid, inflexible gaze.
âHYDRA as inâ the Russian mob?â you asked him.
âNo, the Girl Scouts,â Steve huffed, âYes, the mob.â
âSchröderâs boys. Your dadâs been in business with them for yearsâowed them a lot of money,â Sam added.
âAnd your dad and Buckyâs dad have been friends even longer. So Bucky figured heâd do yours a favor and pay the debt himself.â Steve seemed eager to tell this story.
All the while, the hue of Buckyâs cheeks grew even deeperâlike he didnât want this coming to light. He sensed you wouldnât stand down until youâd heard the whole ugly truth, though, so he held your gaze and watched you grow more repulsed by the second.
âThen whyâd he need me? Just another bartering chip?â Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, âA pawn?â
âA peace offering,â Bucky said quietly.
Steve and Sam finally clammed up long enough to let him speak, but your husband seemed taciturn as ever.
âYour father didnât owe me anything. I wouldâve paid his debt and left it at that, but he insisted Iâ that we marry. He wanted an alliance no subsequent financial incentive could disrupt. He would take the money I gave him, pay HYDRA, and bow out of any future dealings with them. Our marriage was supposed to guarantee that.â
Bucky spoke slow, like every word was a labored breath. Hardly the same could be said for his friends.
âThat was until your dipshit weapons dealer daddy decided heâd have his cake and eat it too. Struck an even sweeter deal with HYDRA and played in our faces,â Steve said.
âAt the direction of Mr. Schröder, your father tried to intercept a shipment bound for one of Buckyâs warehouses in Brooklyn,â Sam continued, âOnly problem is he fucked up the execution and cost Schröder a dozen men and tens of millions of dollars in artillery and blow.â
âSo Schröder paid him a visit today,â Bucky muttered.
Without realizing it, you found yourself sinking into the nearest seat and bringing a hand to lay flat on your stomach. You felt sick. More than woozy, truthfully. Your head was spinning and your stomach was twisting something terrible, as if youâd just ingested cyanide.
Fuck, did you need a drink.
You couldnât look at Bucky or Steve or Sam any longer.
You reached for your clutch and pulled out Joeyâs flask.
And, bloodlusting mobsters and outlaws be damned, the Russians knew how to make the hell out of some vodka. A single sniff of the stuff told you this was exactly what you would need to cope with your current situation.
âSo you think I had something to do with the new HYDRA deal?â you asked, âYou honestly thâFUCK!â
Bucky lunged for the flask in your hand before you could take a single pull. He snatched it away in the blink of an eye and shot you a look.
âLiquor? For our baby?â he barked.
You audibly groaned and were just about to tell him that his understanding of human reproduction was a crock of shit when you stopped. You saw his expression change.
âWhere did you get this?â Bucky asked, suddenly pale.
âYou, dumbass!â
âMe?â
Bucky was presently passing the flask around to his friends, who were eyeing a spot on the bottom of the container with shared looks of alarm.
âYour friend gave it to me earlier saying that you wanted me to have it,â you said.
All three men looked up at once.
âWhat friend?â Sam asked.
âJoey,â you answered, âBuckyâs friend from the army.â
If it were possible for your husband to get any paler his skin mightâve turned the color of cottage cheese. His eyes were wide with fear.
Then he was hurrying to your side. Taking your hand.
âWhat friend from the army? Whatâd he look like?â
You were still scanning Buckyâs face, trying to make sense of the apprehension etched into his features, when you managed,
âI-I dunno. Blond. Light brown eyes.â
âTall fella?â Steve asked.
âVery.â
âHave a German accent?â Sam pressed.
âNo, a real thick Southern accent,â you shook your head. It didnât occur to you then that it couldâve been fake.
You were about to turn your attention back to Bucky, brow still knit in confusion, when a vague memory crossed your mind. You looked up at Sam and Steve.
âHe had aââ You tapped your chin lightly, ââa little scar right here.â
You wouldâve thought youâd just announced you had a bomb strapped to your ass the way the three men reacted. Each wore identical looks of disbelief and muted horror, exchanging looks between themselves as if theyâd just discovered the Atlantic Oceanâand found the Loch Ness Monster lurking somewhere underneath.
Bucky looked the worst out of all of them. His face had drained of all expression and color as he stared at you.
âJoey?â he intoned feebly.
âYes,â you answeredâfeeling ineffectual, even dense, for not catching on to what the rest of them had discovered.
Fortunately, Sam wouldnât let you wallow in ignorance.
âJohann Schröder,â he supplied in a second, âThe man you were talking to was Mr. Schröder, head of HYDRA.â
Steve held the flask in his grasp for you to see the bottom, where a skull with six tentacles was engraved. Then he tipped the canister into a glass heâd taken in his other hand and watched a frothy pink liquid spill out.
âLooks to be a serum of his,â Steve said, hollow as youâd ever heard him, âKind of likeâŠroofies.â
âYou didnât drink any of it, did you?â Sam asked.
âNuh-uh. Bucky showed up right as he was trying to, uhâ to pour it in my mouth.â
A beat of silence gripped the room.
Bucky looked like he might burst a blood vessel, or someoneâs skull. Or both.
Still, he wouldnât speak to you.
The inside of your head was throbbing.
You almost preferred the ruthless, irate glint in Steveâs eye when heâd suspected you of being a traitor the first time around; this cloyingly sympathetic gaze he was giving you now had to be the most maddening thing. He and Sam both looked on at you like you were a victim. Like you were something to be pitied, or coddled, or left to the capable hands of your husbandâa motherfucker who couldnât even speak so much as a syllable to you.
You felt a pressure build, then swell, then peak between your temples, and you wanted to wince but couldnât stand the thought of looking weak in front of them.
Then your nose started to bleed.
That, at least, woke Bucky from his reverie as he fumbled around for a napkin and helped you to your feet. He looped an arm around your waist and led you off to the bathroom, his grip tightening on your frame with every step you took.
In two minutes flat, you were flooded with fifteen feet of toilet paper and tissues. Bucky cupped the back of your head in one of his broad, warm palms and kept it plastered there as he instructed you to hold it, honey, hang on, I can grab a few extra rolls right here and guided you toward a private area at the back of the plane.
You could scarcely see above the bunched up wads of Charmin Ultra Strong pressed close to your nose, but you trusted Bucky wouldnât lead you astray. You felt the welcome touch of a bed underneath you, and then your husband was helping you settle in amongst the pillows and the blankets and the rose petals that had been scattered around beforeânot entirely appropriate now, but a nice touch nonethelessâand slipping your shoes off your feet. You felt his hand graze your ankle, and then he was saying heâd be right back with those ice packs.
You reached for his hand before he could leave.
âI donât want it,â you said, your voice slightly muffled by the tissues, âWant you to talk to me, James.â
Buckyâs brow pinched inward. He kneeled down in front of you, where you were sitting on the edge of the bed.
âI amâ Iâm talking to you right now, honey, Iââ
âYou know what I mean.â
Bucky wiped his hand down his face and shook his head. Like he was trying to rid himself of a thought.
âI donât want to talk about HYDRA. Or your father,â he said simply.
âWhy not?â
âYouâre not in the right place to hear it.â
You plucked the toilet paper away from your face long enough to give him a stern glare.
âWeâre on a plane. Fleeing Greece. After you got curb-stomped in our honeymoon suite, our post-wedding brunch was bombed by the Russian mob, I was almost drugged by their leader, and my parents are probably as good as dead, if not being held for ransom, as we speak. Please tell me a better place to have this conversation.â
Bucky was left stumped for a second. Then he slowly rose back to his feet.
âOkay.â
Infuriating.
âOkay?â you snapped, âWe couldâve died five times today and all you can say is okay?â
âUh-huh.â
Fuck this guy. You wiped your nose and stood up too.
Bucky tried to nudge you back onto the bed, wary of the ever-growing number of bumps, bruises, and nosebleeds afflicting your body. He tensed when you nudged him right back.
âI need to see my family,â You stood firm, âAs soon as we land wherever it is weâre going, Iâm on the first flight back to New Yorkâor wherever they are.â
You dabbed at your nose once more and looked up at him.
âNo, youâre not,â Bucky returned.
âWhat? Youâre gonna stop me?â
âYes, I will.â
The worst part was he wasnât even smug about it. Just calm and self-assured. You flung your tissues to the side and threw your hands up in exasperation, feeling the need to step away from him and start pacing the room. The manâs reticence was grating on your nerves.
âWhy bother, Buck?â you snorted, âItâs not like Iâm even your wife, really. Iâm just a peace offering that you get to bend over and fuck every now and then, right?â
You turned to make your first circuit around the foot of the bed but were shortly met with the expanse of Buckyâs chest. You looked up to find him frowning.
âDonât say that again,â he glowered down at you.
Unlike most times before, you didnât flinch. When he reached for your wrists, you didnât let him win.
âIâm not your wife,â you repeated, âWe may be playing the most fucked up game of mob charades, but this is not a real marriage.â
You ignored Buckyâs evident desire to grab hold of something of yours and side-stepped easily, expanding the gap between you two as much as you could. It was almost amusing to see him not in control for once, and floundering to recover what semblance of it he could.
âYou are my wife,â he insisted, frown growing deeper as you crept along the edge of the room, âEverything I do now is for youâitâs not a goddamn game to me.â
âYou used me for some Machiavellian marriage ploy! That is the definition of a game, James!â
âI donât even know what the fuck that means,â Bucky said, âBut I love you.â
âYou met me yesterday, motherfucker!â
You could feel another bloody nose rising in your bones. You turned around, swiped your lip with the back of your hand and were surprised to see nothing there. You waited for the bleeding to start back up again. When you turned, Bucky had closed the distance between you and was holding something in his hand.
Before you could protest, he was smoothing the thing over your faceâapparently heâd grabbed a washcloth and dampened itâand laced his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. He held you firmly as he blotted the blood.
âIs it so hard to believe that I love you?â he asked quietly.
He was trying hard to placate you, but his actions were having just the opposite effect. You let him wipe the blood from your face but watched him begrudgingly.
âYou want someone to control, Bucky,â you said, âLove is not a power play that you get to manipulate at will.â
Bucky blinked, trying to conjure up a response as he daubed the skin with a little more force. You werenât finished.
âYou look at me and see a victim. Someone you need to watch overâ who canât take care of themseââ
âThatâs not true.â
âReally? Thatâs not what a âgood little wifeâ is to you?â you retorted.
At last, Bucky tossed the hand towel to the side and ran a hand through his hair. He stepped toward the dresser, shrugging off his suit jacket.
âThatâs aâ a bit I do when Iâm horny. I donât actually want you subservient to me,â he muttered as he looked around for a hanger. Finally, he just draped the coat over the back of a chair and sighed.
âSo holding me hostage from my family is a bit, too?â you quizzed.
âTo keep you safe from the people who tried to kill them. Iâm sorry I donât want to see you butchered because of me,â Bucky returned with just as much biting sarcasm.
âThatâs rich coming from you.â You despised the indignation in your tone but couldnât help it. These thoughts had been brewing inside your skull for hours. You watched Bucky struggle to undo his bow tieâjust like the night beforeâand, again, your brain barely registered the action before you were reaching for the garment and tugging at the fabric to loosen it yourself.
âWhat are you talking about?â Bucky asked, brow furrowed.
âLast night,â you yanked harder than you meant to. The knot just got tighter, âAnd today. Tonight. Youâre as still as the fucking grave and wonât say a word when something bad is happening. You just let it happen.â
You tried to pry your fingers through the tie but found it stiff as ever. You groaned inwardly.
âNo, I donât,â Bucky objected.
âYouâre doing it right now! You wouldnât tell me about HYDRA, or my father, or the guy who couldâveâ hurt me. You didnât say a word of that to me, and you expect me to believe weâre in this together? That youâre trying to keep me safe? You couldnât evenââ you paused to pull at that stupid tie your husband had tangled about four times over, finally feeling it give way a littleââcouldnât even pretend to give a fuck when those men broke in last night and almost killed us!â
Just as you freed the silk from its knot, Bucky seized your wrist. Shoved your hand off of his collar.
âI had to do that,â he snapped.
He threw his tie to the floor and started to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. The sight of his broad, veiny forearms were only visible to you for a second before he headed toward the closet, peeling off bits and pieces of his ensemble as he walked.
âYou didnât do anything, Bucky! You just sat there and got the shit beat out of you for no fucking reason! You didnât even try to fight back.â
Bucky had just muscled his way out of the confines of his dress shirt, leaving him in a tight, plain white tee. He turned to you with what seemed like the most pointed look of disdain.
âYou think I wanted to do that?!â he barked. Suddenly facing you head-on, skin flushed a shade just shy of crimson.
âYou were too chickenshit. Didnât wanna get your hands dirty, so you let Sam do it for you,â you seethed.
Your husband looked as though he wanted to put his fist through a wall and pummel it several times over. Seemed like he did, anyway. In truth, he didnât moveâjust watched you with the most cruel, unflinching gaze as he clenched his jaw.
âIâm chickenshit?â he repeated.
âYeah. Coward,â you spat.
âToo much of a coward to keep you safe?â
âPrecisely.â
At long last, you saw Bucky smile. It was the tightest, most humorless grin that had ever crossed his lips, but it was a smile nonetheless. He raised a hand over your head and bracketed his arm against the wall so he was leaning over you. Not meant to intimidate per se, but the sight of that smirk was unnerving, to say the least.
âDid you hear what language they spoke?â he asked, voice unbearably low as he drew his face closer to yours.
âIt sounded likeââ
âRussian, thatâs right,â Bucky cut in, âDo you know what they said to me when they pulled us to the floor?â
You swallowed and said nothing. Buckyâs breaths were fanning hot across your cheeks, sending waves of a strange sensation all throughout your bodyâyou werenât sure if you were meant to be aroused or scared shitless.
âThey told me, âIf you move, weâll kill her,ââ Bucky deadpanned as he began to trace the wallpaper beside your head with a single, bloodied finger, ââIf you fight, weâll dismember her and set fire to every piece of her body in front of you.â Or something to that effect.â
The repetition of their words seared your veins like a legion of flames. You could picture them saying it. Grabbing hold of Buckyâs head by the roots of his hair and beating him over and over and over, threatening your life if he made a single move to stop it.
âBuckyââ you started.
âI know they meant it, too. HYDRA operatives make good on their promises if they really set out to harm someone.â
Your husbandâs grin had transformed into something more of a crooked, downcast grimace, just baring his teeth as he tried not to lose his composure. Guilt flooded his face.
âI know I shouldâve told you then. And after. I shouldâve told you about your father as soon as Steveâs informant told us. I justââ Bucky stopped to swallow; he couldnât meet your gazeââI didnât want that hanging over your head. Not after everything that happened last night.â
It was like a blade had just twisted in your stomach. Your throat ached. You wanted to touch him but were almost too scared to ask. He looked so fragile.
âI am a coward. And controlling. Probably the most chickenshit, overbearing son of a bitch you couldâve been unfortunate enough to marry.â For a moment, Buckyâs gaze flickered to yours, and you saw a blooming red hue around the blues of his irises, âBut thatâs not how Iâm supposed to love youâor going to love you.â
You werenât sure how to reply; you tried raising a hand to his cheek, just to touch the skin, but decided against it.
âIâve been a shit husband, fake or not. Iâm sorry.â
Fake husband maybe, but the look on his face was intractably authentic. Palpable. He blinked as though trying to clear the warm and heady feelings from his expressionâsuddenly not wanting you to see the shades of his emotions painted thereâand focused instead on a few stray strands of hair that had blown over your face. He got very invested in those, all of a sudden.
While your husband stroked the corners of your face and fixed his gaze away from yours, you felt the smallest prick of warmth spark within you. Bucky looked soft and serene and sincere in his apology, defenseless now as he grazed his knuckles over your cheek and said it again,
âIâm sorry, honey. Iâm so sorry.â
He paired his apology with a rapid succession of little kisses pressed to your forehead, moving his hand to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.
You wanted to touch him, too. You almost felt as though you didnât know how.
So you stood there and accepted his affections and tried to nod your head when he asked if you were alright, were you hurting any, baby? You leaned into the gentle pressure of his fingertips taking stock of every cut and bruise youâd sustained over the course of that day, watched Buckyâs brow furrow with each new discovery, and tried not to let his touch stray far down your body.
You wanted to be the one with your hands on himânow more than ever.
When Buckyâs hand trailed over your chin, you tilted your head just slightly to kiss it. Your husband didnât think much of it, just smiling down as tender as he always did, when your lips really grazed over the skin. You pressed a kiss to his finger and wordlessly urged him to move it further. Now it was Buckyâs turn to be at a loss for what to do as you took the tip of his thumb between your lips and suckled it, gently.
âHoney,â he let out a sigh, half-encouragement and half-warningâwhat were you trying to do?
You glided your mouth down his finger so half of his thumb was enveloped inside. You sucked it again.
âYou canâtâŠâ Bucky maintained feebly, eyes briefly scouring all the cuts and bruises across your skin. He didnât want to see you strain yourself any further.
But whatever pain this might cause was ancillary to you; you curled your tongue around the digit and moaned lightly.
The taste of one finger alone was enough to send you into a frenzy. That and the fact that he had been so open and honest and attentive to your needs made every bone in your body want to jump his. Something about a man taking accountability for his actions and communicating them in a way that didnât intimidate or belittle you was refreshing. Sexy, almost. Admittedly, the bar for mob boss husbands was hovering somewhere deep in hell, but you admired Buckyâs efforts all the same.
You popped his thumb out of your mouth and smiled.
âYou worry too much, Mr. Barnes.â
The echo of his words from earlierâthe ones heâd said as he was railing you against a mirrorâmade Buckyâs cock twitch. His gaze trailed down to the sheen of saliva on your lip, and he almost folded on the spot. He swallowed.
âDonât wanna hurt you, bunny,â he murmured as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and peered up at him.
âHurt me how?â
You really hadnât meant to sound like such a tease when youâd said it, but it was hard not to come across that way when you were watching him like that.
And sinking to your knees, with your eyes glued on his.
Bucky sucked in a breath as you kneeled between his feet and nudged the seam of his pants with your nose. He felt so big against your face, you almost couldnât fathom how heâd fit inside of you the night before. You were amazed how quickly heâd gotten hardâas if the two of you werenât just having a heart-to-heart a second agoâand you felt your own arousal pool in your panties.
âYou know I donât mind if it hurts. Love the way you stretch me out anyhow,â you continued, and tried not to smirk as you imagined a dozen filthy images from last night flash before Buckyâs mind.
You heard him stifle a groan when you ghosted your lips over the bulge in his pants and felt him swell even more. Your mouth watered at the sound, the sensation, the raw anticipation of what was to come and knowing that you got to dictate what happened. You undid the button and the zip of his pants and damn near drooled at the sight.
Even confined to his boxers, Bucky looked fucking huge.
Suddenly, you began to understand how needy he had been the night before when heâd first wedged his face between your legs and gotten a taste of you. You hadnât so much as sampled an inch of his cock, and you were already aching to swallow him whole.
âYou have no idea what you do to me,â Bucky grunted as he planted a hand on the wall in front of him. You kissed the outline of his clothed erection and earned a full-throated groan.
Well, that makes two of us, you wanted to say but were too busy palming him through his boxers to utter a word. Soaking in the sight of him with every sweet, soft groan he made and wanting to be the reason for even more.
âCan I take you in my mouth, daddy?â you asked softly.
Bucky flattened his palm against the wall and nodded. Beyond words as you worked him out of his boxers.
For one, fleeting moment, you almost wanted to walk back your big talk when his cock sprung out of the fabric. You really hadnât seen his length at all last nightâtoo busy having it stuffed inside your cunt to get a good lookâbut holy shit was it an intimidating sight. You werenât sure if it was just the nerves of this being your first time giving head or if Bucky truly was that massive, but you felt your courage start to crumble before your eyes.
My husband is hung like a fucking horse and Iâve never fit anything bigger than a couple fingers in my mouth. This should go well.
Bucky was evidently so turned on that he didnât notice the apprehension in your expression. After all, you were moving your lips down his cock and seizing the base of him with what looked like excitement.
Should IâŠlick it first?
It seemed you would have to learn all of this on the job. You stuck your tongue out and ran it up the length of his shaft.
When Bucky groaned in response, you sensed that that was okay. You pressed a few kisses on the underside of his member and scrambled to think of what else to do.
âFuck, baby,â your husband let out the most guttural sound as you squeezed his length in your hand. Then, to your surprise, he seized a fistful of your hair between his fingers and rutted his hips, pushing the head of himself against your lips, âTake me in your mouth.â
You heard the Kill Bill sirens blare between your ears but said nothing. You could do thisâyouâd be fine.
Your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and Bucky gripped your hair even tighter. Let out a deep, satisfied moan like this was exactly what he needed. You liked that noise and wanted to take him even further.
What you didnât expect was four more inches shoved inside your mouth before you could stop to take a breath.
The whole girth of his cock made a sharp intrusion, causing your cheeks to stretch and hollow out around him. The head of his member barely grazed the back of your throat, and still, you gagged. And not only gagged but choked, as though someone had just tried to scrub your tonsils with a fine-bristle toothbrush. Unfortunately for you, Buckyâs dick did not taste like spearmint.
He pulled his cock out as quickly as heâd pushed it in.
âSorry. Shit, sorry.â Bucky blinked twice to get out of that blissed-out headspace and shot you a sheepish look.
The man had rarely been obliged to slow down or take five when his old, ever-changing flavors of the night sucked him off beforeâmost blew him without trouble. But you, kneeling there batting your lashes through a few more tears than expected, seemed uncertain. Even half of his shaft made for a tight fit in your mouth, Bucky thought with some guilty feelings of arousal. He watched you wipe your chin with the back of your hand and frown.
âWe donât have to do this if you donât want to, baby,â Bucky said, stroking the top of your head.
Suddenly, the frown was turned in his direction.
You raised a brow.
âWhy? That all you got, Barnes?â
Bucky couldnât help but chuckleâand grunt, a littleâwhen you grabbed the base of his cock and brought it down to your swollen pout. His hand instinctively moved back to the wall.
âHoney, are you sââ
He stopped the second you rubbed him up and down and pressed a kiss on the most sensitive skin.
âMy mouth isnât made of paper mĂąchĂ©. You can fuck it a little harder than that,â you said, running your touch down his length while holding his gaze. You looked eager.
Before Bucky could respond, you took the tip of his cock between your lips. Flattened your tongue and glided your mouth down as far as it could go before your cheeks started to hurtâthen bobbed your head even further. One of your husbandâs hands made a fist in your hair while the other scraped the wall, and you could tell it was taking some serious effort not to rut his hips out of habit.
Be gentle, be gentle, your dick barely fits in her mouthâ
ââfucking hell you feel good,â he groaned.
Bucky took one look and could have cum on the spot.
It was one thing to feel you licking and sucking and stretching to accommodate his length, and another thing entirely to see you knelt in front of him with the worldâs sweetest gaze, mouth stuffed full of his cock and eyes all but rolling back at the overwhelming sensation. Youâd nearly made it all the way to the short tufts of hair on his lower abdomenâand looked so pretty doing it.
Bucky fucking loved it. And you. And fucking you, your face, any place he could fit himself, quite frankly. He stared down at you struggling to take his cock and felt a strange new wave of desire pulsing through his body.
âYou like that, doll? Like when daddy fucks that slutty little mouth of yours?â
âBarely fits but you take it so well, bunny.â
âMy good little wife and her pretty fucking mouthâlikes sucking daddyâs cock however deep he needs it, huh?â
You liked it more than the air in your lungs, to be honest. Only problem was you couldnât quite speak your mind with your mouth full of Bucky, so you had only to nod. Your husband groaned when you hummed along his length and bobbed your head to answer âyes.â He saw you try not to gag and decided to thrust a little deeper.
He watched his cock drag back and forth along your tongue and took hold of your hair like a vice, fucking your face until your chin and cheeks were drenched with spit. Every now and then heâd pull his cock out just long enough to ask how bad you wanted him in your mouth, how desperate you were to taste him again, and every time youâd answer a little more sweetly and incoherently than before, eyes glazed with desire and mouth open for more.
You were amazed youâd lasted as long as you hadâhow quickly youâd devolved into this pliable, doe-eyed cocksleeve for Bucky and how keenly you desired to please him even more. It felt pornographic and lewd and somehow still loving as he plowed in and out of your mouth and sang your praises like no man had before.
Above you, Bucky was aching for release but adamant that he wouldnât cum down your throatânot yet, at least.
His mind was alight with those pesky, primal thoughts again, and every time he watched you swallow him whole, he just wanted to fuck his cum someplace else.
Bucky wasnât sure if he was smitten or simply dominated by carnal desire; all he knew was that he wanted to give you his babies.
Lots and lots of babies.
A hundred or more, if he had it his way.
Again, you barely had a chance to take a fresh breath before Bucky threw you onto the bed. Youâd just tried to steady yourself in a semi-seated position when the man shoved you back in the pillows and slotted himself between your legs, pupils blown wide with hunger.
In a blink, you were flipped onto your stomach with your ass yanked high in the air. Back made to arch, toes about to curl, you closed your eyes and sank your teeth into the sheets, moments away from begging your husband to fuck you right then and there, but Bucky had other plans. He seized the hair at the crown of your head and jerked your head to face forward.
The first thing to greet you was your own reflectionâin a floor-to-ceiling mirror at the foot of the bedâfollowed by Buckyâs broad form steadying behind you. You watched him wet his lips, furrow his brow, and use one careful hand to guide the head of his cock to your entrance. Completely piqued with arousal as you were, weeping beads of desire from that place between your legs, you almost wanted to buck your hips and fuck him yourself.
You refrained.
Bucky pressed the tip of himself to your clit and met your gaze in the mirror when you let out a whimper.
âYou didnât mean it, did you?â he asked, tone suddenly dropped to that of a stoic.
âMean what?â
It took an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the moan in your throat when Bucky dragged his cock down the seam of your cunt and rubbed every hot, throbbing inch of himself in the slickness between your folds. You were quick to take the sheets in your hands and squeeze as tight as you couldâyou wouldnât let him win that easy.
âWhen you said you werenât my wife. Did you mean it?â Bucky was coating himself now, rolling his hips back and forth while you seized the white linens for dear life.
âNo. I didnât,â you said through your teeth. Your eyelids fluttered with the feel of him circling your sensitive hole.
âDo you want to be my wife?â Bucky had to have known it was an asinine question, but he asked it all the same.
âYes.â
âYou do?â
âI do. I do. Now will you just fuck me already?â
In response, and as if to make a mockery of your request, Bucky just pressed the head of his cock inside you and watched you close in the mirrorâdaring your hips to move back another inch.
âWhat else do you want to be, doll?â
To say your mind was an empty slate bare of anything but the desire to be fucked was an understatement. You fumbled to find words.
âYour wife, your girlâ thatâs it, Bucky.â
Your husband nudged his cock a little deeper.
âA good girl?â he hummed.
âYes, daddy,â you cried and clenched around him.
Bucky stayed where he was and stretched your wet, aching hole with just his tip, making the worldâs most shallow thrusts as he flattened his hand on your back and made sure it stayed arched while he teased you.
At this point, you didnât care what the man saw or heard. You fought with your hips and whined into the sheets.
âBucky!â
âWanna be my obedient little cockslut?â he asked.
âUh-huh.â
âMy bunny?â
âYes, James.â Your cheeks were enflamed, almost hot to the touch.
Bucky suddenly drove himself inside you all the way to the hilt. He squeezed your hip in one hand and with the other slipped a finger between your folds to rub vicious, tight circles against your clit as you bucked and moaned beneath his touch.
âHow about a momma?â he pressed, almost too low to be heard, âWanna be that, too?â
His hips fell into a quick and easy rhythm against your ass, stretching you wide and filling you up almost seamlessly. Your mind was too consumed with pleasure and him to think much else, but barely, you managed,
âW-what?â
Bucky delivered a thrust that knocked the breath from your chest, leaning down to rub your clit even harder.
âDo you want to be a mommy? Have me fill you up and put my baby inside you?â
Oh, fuck. Fuckingâwhat the fuck? Your toes curled as a new jolt of pleasure shot through you, and your gaze locked with Buckyâs in the mirror. He knew exactly what he was doing.
âNoâ James, weâre not, shitââ you stopped to take a breath as he fucked you rough from behind, smirking the whole time, âWeâre not ready for that.â
âLook prettyâŠready to me,â Bucky stifled a groan when you squeezed around him and made obscene little noises sliding up and down his cock. He watched the way your pretty, wet pussy stretched and swallowed him down to the base and imagined it dripping with his cum. He snapped his hips against your ass even faster.
It wasnât clear just who was more overcome with desireâboth of you blissed out and fuckdrunk as youâd ever beenâand then Bucky flipped you onto your back.
He wanted to see your face as he fucked you slow this time, lips hovering mere inches from your own as he dragged his cock gently in and out of you.
âJames,â you breathed, digging your heels in his back with a wordless plea to speed up, baby, please.
In truth, you just knew what would happen if Bucky had the advantage of slow and soft sex with a mouth lowered close to your ear. How heâd shower you with kisses and bring you right to the edge, rolling his hips against your body with strings of sweet praises flowing fast off his tongue.
âJust one, honey,â he mumbled, lips grazing the edge of your jaw, âOne baby and I promise weâll be done.â
Yeah fucking right, you wanted to return with a roll of your eyes but felt your insides churn as he grazed that spot.
âCan you do that for me, doll?â he eased his dick back and forth and snaked a hand between your bodies until his palm was laying flat on your stomach, âFit my baby in there?â
You couldnât deny the feelings of pleasure were heightened to no end when he rubbed the heel of his palm into your tummy and continued to rut into you. That feeling of fullness, the delicate nudge against your most sensitive place, paired with the warmth of Buckyâs hand on your lower abdomen, was as close to euphoric as youâd ever felt before orgasm, and it wasnât hard to tell from the way your body responded. Bucky worked his touch even deeper and watched you writhe beneath him.
âMy sweet girl,â he cooed, rubbing that spot, âYouâd look so pretty all swole up down here, donât you think?â
Fucking hell, this guy was good. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to shake your head.
âSomeoneâŠtried to kill usâŠtwice in the last twenty four hours,â you managed between labored breaths. Trying not to whimper when the head of Buckyâs cock kissed your cervix and you felt him bottom out inside you.
Balls deep and enamored with the expression on your face, Bucky laid a kiss on your forehead and smiled.
âIâll take Schröderâs life with my own two hands if it means keeping youââ he paused to press his palm even firmer on your stomach, ââand our child safe, honey.â
You wanted to believe him. You sincerely hoped your husband could make good on his promiseâeven if it meant delivering an agonizing, bloody death to a man you barely knewâbut you sensed deep down that there were no guarantees in the world Bucky Barnes inhabited. From what little youâd seen in the last day and a half, it had become clear as ever that there were no certainties; no promise of tomorrow, much less a probability that things would pan out exactly as you planned. Add to that a living, breathing child between you two, and the prospects for a safe, secure, and peaceful future were small. Infinitesimally so, in the grand scheme of things.
âNo, Bucky,â you finally opened your eyes to find his tender gaze watching over you. Still moving his hips gently, still blanketing your body with his own, âThatâs entirely justâ just irresponsible. You know it would be.â
âMaking a child together?â Bucky seemed wounded saying the words.
And, in spite of the serious turn your conversation had taken, you could see and feel with the growing pace of your breaths that both of you were close. You wanted more than anything to repair that muted, injured look in his eyes, but then Bucky was blinking it away, to the best of his abilities, and lowering his head back down to yours to impart a soft barrage of kisses along your skin. He resumed before you could even think to speak again.
âOkay. No, youâre right. Itâs your choice, my love,â he murmured against your cheek, getting back into the more deliberate rhythm of his thrusts before. He stayed there holding his body and his lips as close to yours as possible, and when you felt tempted to say something again, you found the sound drowned by a cresting wave of pleasure.
Your legs tightened around Buckyâs sides, and your head fell back on the bed. You felt Buckyâs drop right beside you, turned just slightly to graze his lips against your ear.
âGonna cum for me, doll?â
You nodded.
âSo close, Bucky,â you breathed, a tremor passing over your thighs as they squeezed him even tighter.
You felt your husbandâs hand move from your belly to a place just below itâtaking care to bring the pad of his thumb to that wet, aching bundle of nervesâand started drawing circles. Your back arched from the bed, into him, and the coil of pleasure in your lower half swelled.
âGood girl,â Bucky growled, âGood fuckinâ girl, taking me so well.â
The praises and gentle circuits of his thumb continued as he fucked you harder into the bed and panted against your skin. Increasing the speed of his thrusts before catching your mouth in a sloppy kiss, body sinking into yours.
âGonna make a mess of this cock, huh? Show daddy just how much you love it?â
You whined in response, feeling your muscles start to ache from how hard your legs were wrapped around him. Bucky invaded your mouth with his tongue, kissing and licking and craving your taste as he fucked you stupidâand begged for your release.
âCum for daddy, honey, I know you got it. Let daddy feel it, baby, please.â
A couple more snaps of his hips and you gave him just that: a hot, cascading ripple of bliss spreading all throughout your body, sending your mind in spirals and every muscle under your command a tense, throbbing mess. You swallowed a scream and took a bite of Buckyâs shoulder instead, causing the man above you to grin and fuck you harder.
âThatâs my girl,â he mumbled with an audible hint of pride.
The smile only started to waver when his own release was coming close. Suddenly, his grip was moving to your hip and pinning you down to the bed, brows pinching in and breaths starting to hitch.
âHoneyâ honey,â he said, voice strained, âBaby, youâ you gotta let go of yourâ ah, fuck.â
Still riding out the highs of your orgasm, you hardly even noticed how tight you were holding him with your legs, and shortly, this raised issues for Bucky, who was trying like hell to heed your wishes and not cum inside you.
âBaby, let go, I gottaââ
He probably couldâve fought to shake you off a little harder, been a bit more adamant about his efforts, but you looked so comfortable and lithe and sweet beneath his frame, so blissed out and happy to be taking his strokes, Bucky almost had to pinch himself to rouse his lust-addled brain to action and remind himself that this was how babies are made, man, get the fuck off of her.
Bucky let out a long, strangled groan as the ropes of cum left his body before he could think, or move, fast enough.
He hastily pushed your legs away and pulled out, but not before painting your walls with a good portion of his load. His hand fell to his cock and started jerking the rest of it out over your stomach, body washing with pleasure.
Vaguely, thoughts of babies and ballgames and neat white picket fences crossed his mind, but those views were fleeting; he remembered what youâd told him and forced himself back to earth, dropping a quick, apologetic kiss to the side of your face.
âIâm sorry. Shouldâve pulled out quicker,â Bucky panted against your neck.
You stroked his bicep and shook your head.
âYouâre fine. I kinda had you down like a boa constrictor for a second,â you breathed and shared a weary laugh.
Before you knew it, Bucky was sliding off the bed and shuffling toward the bathroom in search of a towel. You prodded the warm, gooey mess on your belly with your finger and raised an eyebrow. Curious, and only slightly worried.
Bucky had been hitting it raw for a day nowâsurely one more half-load of his wouldnât get you pregnant, right?
Fortunately, you didnât have much longer to ponder that thought because a trill of a ringtone sounded from the nightstand.
A phone call? At 45,000 feet?
âJust the intercom,â Bucky called out, âProbably Steve about to start complaining that we fuck too loud.â
Huh. You stared at the trimline-looking telephone on the table and let it ring. Then the sound stopped.
âYou think they could hear us?â you asked.
Bucky had just wet a washcloth under the sink and was rifling through the cabinets for something else.
âHope so,â he said with a shrug, âYou know Iâd never miss a chance to let âem know I took a trip to poundtownââ
âPlease never say that again,â you groaned, closing your eyes in sudden fear of what Steve and Sam may or may not have just been made privy to outside of the room.
You were just about to speak up againâperhaps to tell your husband there would be an indefinite travel ban to poundtown if he didnât hurry the fuck up with that towelâwhen the intercomâs jarring peal started up once more.
Fuck this. Ignoring the sticky-sweet puddle of love still painted on your stomach, you sat up and crawled over to the phone and ripped it off the hook.
âBarnes residence,â you announced without ceremony. Then, imagining how smug Steve was probably looking on the other end of that line, you decided to be crass and add, âBucky Barnes is very busy laying pipe on his wife right now, but if you could leave your name and number, heâll be sure to call you back as soon as possible!â
You heard the caller burst out laughing, and you smiled to yourself. Pleased to have made an otherwise moody and brooding Steve Rogers crack at one of your jokes, you were just about to hang up when the caller cut in.
Bucky was returning with your towel in hand, lips curled in the faintest of smirks at hearing your crude declaration, when he stopped at the foot of the bed.
He saw the smile fall from your face, and his did, too.
From the other end of the line, a soft and familiar Southern drawl crawled out of the phoneâs receiver.
âSure thing, doll. Tell him itâs Joey Schröder calling.â
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#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#marvel#mcu#mob bucky barnes#marvel smut#marvel x reader#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes
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â âđđ â â đđđđđđđđ. all sukuna needs is someone to take care of his needs after a stressful dayâthat someone being you, his favorite concubine.
tags. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. smut, angst towards the end. objectification kinda, size kĂnk, p in v -> unprotected, choking (nearly goes wrong), breeding kink, standing doggy, sukuna has two cawks, reader gets called â(little) slut, dollâ. uhh sukuna has cannibal-ish desires.. idk how to explain it.
âyou,â sukuna barges into the dining hall, not batting an eye to all the other women sitting around. his sharp gaze immediately finds yours in-between the crowd. thatâs when you realise that heâs clearly pissed off at someone or something.
everyone freezes and stops eatingâscurrying to politely greet and bow at the king of curses. you do the same after a second of processing his unexpected presence.
sukuna barks a command before you can part your lips to ask a question, âinto my chambers. now.â
the servants and concubines all look on with wide eyes. they know what that means. some are blushing from embarrassment at sukunaâs bold choice of wordsâothers are silently seething with envy because youâre the centre of his attention again.
all eyes are on you as you get up to follow sukuna. youâre nervous yet also somewhat excited. you were unable to walk straight for a few days the last time sukuna looked and sounded that angry.
but, the embarrassment is certainly also present. especially because everyone knows what the mighty sorcerer and his concubine are going to be up to for the upcoming hours.
âstrip,â sukuna firmly says the second you enter his room. youâre used to his distant, rushed behaviour at this point, so you comply. you undo all robesâleaving you completely bare in front of him.
sukunaâs canine teeth show as he grins at the welcoming sight. he steps towards you, his rough hands coming up to fondle your body. he squeezes and fondles your soft flesh with surprising care, âmhmm. this âs all i needed.â
it isnât long before your small body is caged against the nearest wall. your breasts are squished by the cold concrete, your hands the only thing keeping your balance. your fingernails hurt because of you repeatedly scratching the wall.
âi know yâ can get louder than that,â sukuna hisses and sinks his sharp canines into your shoulder. heâs splitting you open, his thick cock dragging along your velvety walls with a purpose. the king of curses unapologetically draws a bit of blood from your flesh, âtskâmoan like the fuckinâ slut you are.â
and you do as told. your voice gets so loud to the point that itâs embarrassing, but you canât care less. your insides are begging sukuna to continueâto not stop until theyâve turned into mush. until theyâre painted white with loads and loads of thick and slippery cum.
âthaâs it, doll,â sukuna huffs as his tongue licks over the bite mark he left on your shoulder. his eyes flash a dangerous red at the sight. heâs doing all he can to suppress the urge to eat you up.
literally.
heâs got this aching carnal desire to devour you. to consume you like itâs his last meal on earth. sukuna canât stand it, though he tries his best. youâre an interesting human; the reactions you elicit from him are strong. like no one has been able to do so before.
âneed more, my lord,â you beg between interrupted moans. youâre drunk on pleasure, oblivious to the fact that sukuna is fighting off his inner demons. youâre obsessed with the way his hips roughly slam against your ass. your body is on fire, âmoreâmore, fnghhh, more!â
all four of sukunaâs hands tighten around your hips and waist. he squeezes you until you feel his nails painfully dig into your skin. youâre making it so hard for him; acting this needy, begging him to ravage you and claim your cunt, mind and soul.
âlost yâr fuckinâ manners, hm?â sukuna grumbles and slaps your ass as punishment, âbeg properly.â he spreads your asscheeks after that, squishing the plump fat in attempt to withstand his own sick thoughts.
you look delicious. your dripping pussy thatâs wetting both his cocks looks delicious. your body that is much smaller compared to his looks powerless and. . . delicious.
ââm sorryâplease, pleaseee!â you mewl, eyes rolling back into your skull. youâll never get tired of being pounded until youâre unable to think or talk properly. itâs even better with sukuna, his two cocks are enough to keep you stuffed and satisfied for nth amount of time.
your breath hitches as you feel your feet being lifted from the floor. your legs dangle in the air as sukuna readjusts his grasp on your body so he could support you up against the wall. the new angle heâs fucking you in only increases all the pleasure.
youâre not sure if you can even keep up with him at this point. youâre brainlessly allowing him to position your body however he sees fit.
âshittt, yeah,â sukuna nearly salivates at the sight of your small body accepting its fate. youâre either super easy to please, or heâs just good at what heâs doing. no matter which one it isâsukunaâs making sure that youâre not going to be able to walk after heâs done.
he plunges his upper cock in and out of your wet cunt. each thrust is different than the one before, the pace quickening before slowing down again. heâs clearly teasing you and thatâs exactly what drives you crazy.
âmy lordâmmh! so deep,â you hiccup, nearly crying because of how many times sukuna hits that sweet spot deep inside your leaking pussy. your brain has shut down and all you can focus on is his thick cock thatâs making you moan uncontrollably.
sukuna curses under his breath. youâre so desperate and it makes him want to do unspeakable things. he wants to have you all to himself. he doesnât know what that overbearing emotion is and itâs frustrating him to no end.
the king of curses only increases his pace after that. he attempts to decrease the flow of thought inside of his mind by pounding you harder. your entire body is trembling and jolting back and forth in place, every thrust of his is met with a loud moan of yours.
âquit whining ân just take it,â sukuna pants, not paying mind to your jumbled up sentences. thereâs no need for words, his current and only goal is to make your cunt overflow with his cum. if he canât claim you in an inhuman way, heâll resort to mark your insides, so no man even thinks of speaking or touching whatâs his.
you can feel the passion behind sukunaâs thrusts. youâre still not over the fact that heâs using you like a ragdoll to get himself off. but, it also feels insanely good at the same time. you nod and nod, wanting to satisfy each of sukunaâs desires.
âiâll let âem know,â the king of curses groans once he feels you involuntarily squeeze his upper cock. his lower cock slides between your thighs, back and forth, getting its own stimulation. sukuna finishes his sentence with a guttural grunt, âiâll let everyone know yâr mine ând mine only.â
heâs serious about this. his hands squeeze your form and you moan at the act of ownership. by the increase of his harsh thrusts, you can tell that heâs close. close to dumping his hot load into your cunt and breed your womb full of him.
sukuna canât get the image out of his head. you, fully bred, by no one else but him. how youâd walk around the estate with his cum pooling between your legs. the other concubines are going to seethe the second they smell his scent on youâ something they can only dream of.
âtake it â fucking take it,â sukuna gets more aggressive with the second. he yearns for a release, one that will destress him. though the closer he gets to his climax, the more those carnal desires threaten to take over.
you squeal as you feel one of sukunaâs hands wrap around your neck. he squeezes your throat until youâre gasping for air. you donât know whatâs suddenly got into him, but youâre too far gone to care.
you can hear him growling in your ear from behindâhis hips not stopping even as you reach your own orgasm. you curl your fingers around sukunaâs wrist, trying to loosen his grip around your throat before you lose consciousness, âm-mmhhh, canât breathe.â
your sobs echo throughout the chambers. your climax leaves you spasming in sukunaâs grasp, your cunt feels like itâs on fire as it continues being overstimulated.
sukunaâs too far gone as well. you can feel drops of his drool fall on your bare back. his red eyes are wide, looking down at you like youâre his meal for the day. figuratively, you are. though the king of curses has a desire that urges him to take it literally.
âr-ryo, please!â
itâs only then that sukuna snaps back to his usual self. hearing you call him by that nickname you created both calms him down and turns him on. he loosens the grip on your throat and instead presses you harshly against the wall with one final thrust.
he spills all his heavy balls have stored into your cunt. your pussy floods with his potent seed, the sticky fluid easily finding its way into your womb. you whimper at the warm feelingâsukuna always cums so much. literal buckets.
you can feel the same sticky feeling on your thighs, as well as on the wall after his lower cock spurts out ropes of cum too. you feel yourself being lowered to the floor and you lean against the hard surface to catch your breath.
you take a look over your shoulder and see how sukunaâs eyes are partially hidden behind his sweaty bangs. thereâs a dark aura surrounding him, though it slowly disappears the more he calms down.
his hands are still holding your body in place, not ready to let go of you. his upper cock softens up inside of you and youâre unsure of what to do. the silence - except for the heavy breathing - makes you question if you did something wrong.
âsomething the matter, my lord?â you ask between faint gasps. sukuna doesnât answer you and instead lets go of your body, pulling himself out of you right after.
if he keeps himself inside of you, heâll lose it. heâll do something he feels like heâll eventually regret.
âget dressed,â sukuna commands harshly. he doesnât even look at you anymore. he simply pulls the robes over his body again and covers himself. youâre confused, but you do as told either way.
youâre shaking as you fix your undergarments before pulling your kimono over your body again. youâll fix your make up and disheveled hair later. first, you need to figure out why sukunaâs acting so cold.
sure - heâs always been like that, aftercare and affection was never really his forte - but itâs somehow worse today. once youâre done dressing up, you obediently stand in front of sukuna, looking up at him like youâre expecting another command.
this is usually the moment where you can just relax in his chambers until you fall asleep or until youâve calmed down. though, today felt off. youâre uneasy by the tension in the air.
the oblivious look in your eyes nearly makes the king of curses pounce on you. youâre so oblivious to whatâs going on in his mind. the images that flash through his mindâof you underneath him as he claims your flesh and bones.
your soul. your heart.
âget out,â sukuna hisses. he does not need to spend another second with you in his personal space. no good will come out of it anyway. he can smell himself on you and itâs triggering those same urges that he was fighting off just moments ago.
he longs to sink his teeth in every part of your flesh. to eat you whole like itâs his right.
he clenches his fists and moves to sit on the edge of his bed. to you, sukuna looks mad. perhaps a bit confused with how heâs feeling. he still doesnât understand why heâs having such strong feelings towards you.
he yearns to claim ownership over you in more ways than one.
you gulp and know that sukuna is not to be messed with when heâs like this. even if you donât realise why, you simply nod and bow at him before walking out of his chambers. not a word has to be spoken.
you close his doors behind you and yet canât seem to move away. youâre unsure of what that last interaction between you two meant.
the look in sukunaâs eyes contained something so primal. no, feral.
you remember how he choked you until you were on the verge of passing out. how he held you like he wanted to possess your every being. how he squeezed your body between his and the wall, leaving you no space to breathe.
you run your fingers over the mark on your shoulder. you hiss; the bite mark stung. it didnât during the moment because of the adrenaline, but now that the effects of the hormone have worn off, you realise just how deep it was. sukuna normally gives you light and small bites, but this one was different.
everything about that passionate session was unusual, overwhelming and⊠primal.
just what in the world was that?
#sttoru writes.#jjk smut#jjk x reader#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#jjk imagines
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{ @ofblackskies asked for a starter for Autumn St. James. }
Was it fate or chance that had brought him to this moment? Kol was uncertain. All the Original knew was that he didn't want to be in Mystic Falls when things went south. He had advised his siblings against waking Silas. He had told them it was unwise to tangle with such a creature, and as usual they had disregarded his warnings.
They were too arrogant to believe that one such as Silas could be a threat to them. Too focused on the idea of a cure that was little more than a ploy. Despite his best efforts, they had refused to hear him out about the deadly consequences that arose when one angered as close to a god as had ever roamed the Earth. And now whatever befell them was their own fault. He would not be hanging around for it. Which is how he found himself at a mostly empty truck stop in the dead of night, a bit south of Salem, playing hero.
"The lady told you to leave her alone, mate," Kol said smoothly, rising from his booth to slide between the massive trucker and the brunette seated at the counter he had been harassing. "More than once. I think it would be in your best interest to listen to her this time, before I make you."
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