#and then getting like beaten within an inch of your life or something

[voidwhump]

I need roughly ten billion more fics where some character is seemingly only under the weather because they've been overworking themself and then they wake up with actually serious problems

[gutsby]

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 2 | 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 you’d 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.

“You worry too much,” 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 didn’t 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, he’d 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 hadn’t even blinked when he got pistol whipped by a gold-plated Beretta. Didn’t 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 he’d seen this all before and had no qualms about getting the shit kicked out of him every now and then. Why he hadn’t 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.

“Who’s my girl?” 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.

“I-I am,” 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. He’d glide a thick finger between your folds, slide it down to your clit, and leave it there as long as you’d 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 you—even if he was fucking you like he didn’t.

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.

“Who likes getting stuffed full of this cock?” he taunted.

“I do.”

“Who loves making daddy feel this good?”

“I do.”

He never thought the sound of your vows could be repeated out loud in such an obscene way—his sweet bride bent in half with a thick, throbbing cock wedged between her legs—but he loved it nonetheless.

Bucky was rutting his hips at a breakneck pace and holding your head to the mirror like he’d 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.

“Yeah, Steve?”

The mob boss’s business never took a break, it seemed.

“So what?”

“Yeah, no, I heard you the first time.”

“Well, I’m plowing my wife right now, can it wait?”

Your cheeks warmed with embarrassment at Bucky’s 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 Bucky’s 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.

“Ready to cum for me, honey?”

You whimpered and nodded.

“Alright then,” Bucky said with a near-expectant look, weaving the fingers of one hand into your hair and pulling it back, tight, “Cum all over daddy’s cock.”

With a shriek you feared might carry throughout the whole banquet hall, you finally reached your peak and released around Bucky’s 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 could—‘Shit, honey, you taste as good as you look’—while he smirked. Would’ve grinned even bigger if he wasn’t so overcome with pleasure; but, as it was, he couldn’t 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 man’s 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 couldn’t 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 destination—someplace in the Caribbean, if Bucky remembered correctly—your 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 didn’t mind.

At present, you tugged your panties and your dress back into place with a wince.

“I think you displaced my cervix, James.”

Bucky couldn’t 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.

“Did I really?” he asked as you giggled and tried to swat him away, “I’m awfully sorry, Mrs. Barnes.”

“Like hell you are.”

With Bucky still draped over your body, proffering his apologies again and again as he assailed your face with tiny kisses, you’d 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.

“Can you horndogs hurry the hell up?!”

So Sam had heard you after all.

You just might’ve blushed if you weren’t being pushed out the door a second later, the hurried, chiding tone of your husband’s friend ringing low in your ears.

“Your old man’s ready to hit the roof,” he mumbled to Bucky, “Won’t start drinking until you two show face.”

“Probably still thinks my bride escaped in the middle of the night,” 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; he’d 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 wasn’t just a friend of your husband’s but also a close associate of sorts—the kind that would wait in the wings and do whatever it took to keep Bucky safe. When the wait staff at the villa hadn’t been able to reach you for room service delivery last night, reporting some ‘strange sounds’ inside, Mr. Wilson had sprung into action. Called the rest of your husband’s entourage and was up to your room in minutes, where they’d dealt a swift, and final, blow to your attackers. You hadn’t asked many questions after—just thanked him. Profusely.

“You look like hell,” the man observed with a sidelong glance in his friend’s direction.

“Really? I feel great,” Bucky replied.

The three of you weaved through a crowd of partygoers—every single one of whom, without exception, stopped and stared at your husband’s mangled face as he passed—and you started to chew the inside of your cheek. People were gawking, talking amongst themselves as they wondered aloud what the hell could’ve happened to the groom overnight. You felt their stares turn to you in a mixture of pity and reproach, and you wanted to hide.

“Ja-ames!” 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.

Bucky’s 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 didn’t.

In fact, they didn’t bat an eyelid. Seeing their son’s face all gnarled and bloody barely even registered.

“Good, you’re here! The photographers just arrived.” Bucky’s 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.

“Sorry, ma. We got caught up,” he said.

“Sure looks like it.”

That came from the elder Mr. Barnes, who had stopped to give his son a quick once-over. He looked amused.

“Get in a fight with a grizzly last night?” he quipped.

“Three, actually,” Sam answered for Bucky, who was already grinning from ear-to-ear—or 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 couldn’t begin to imagine why.

“The bruising shouldn’t be too hard to edit out of the wedding pictures,” Bucky’s mother turned to you as she started to lead the group away, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, “It’s those damn lesions on his face that always give us trouble.”

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 couldn’t be bothered to stop ogling Bucky’s 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.

“You’re glowing, my dear.”

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 couldn’t quite tell whether the honeymoon beatdown was fair game for discussion.

“Places, people!”

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 Bucky’s 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 couldn’t stand the thought of one camera capturing such crude behavior.

“My hand slipped,” 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 Bucky’s lips just as the lead photographer told you all to smile and hold it.

“My cum dripping out already?” he whispered, low as he’d ever spoken but still too loud for you to bear. His parents were literally standing right there.

“Shut. Up.” You replied through gritted, smiling teeth.

“Chin to me, Mrs. Barnes,” the lady in charge called out.

You did as you were told, and Bucky’s hand on your side pressed the flesh ever so slightly.

A series of shuttering sounds, then another directive.

“Think it’ll stay in your panties?” Bucky managed delicately under his breath.

You didn’t 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.

“Feel it sliding down your thighs?”

“Eyes forward, Mr. Barnes. Head up, and—here, please.”

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.

“Bucky.”

“What?”

“Behave,” you hissed, and from the corner of your eye you could’ve 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 weren’t on camera and surrounded by family, you probably would’ve liked to smack him upside the head.

As the cameras continued to fire away, Bucky’s touch trailed down to the outline of your panties through your dress and started rubbing small circles over the area.

“Now just the bride and groom!”

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.

“How ‘bout I push it back in?”

“Barnes, I will kill you.”

“Now kiss!”

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.

“I love you,” Bucky murmured with a grin.

“I love you, too.”

The rest of the morning passed away in much the same fashion—being 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 you’d ever met in your life—though perhaps you were a touch too horny to make a fair appraisal—and 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.

“You look stunning.”

“Buck’s a lucky guy, I’ll tell you that.”

“Are you planning on having kids any time soon?”

You just smiled, nodded, and didn’t have the guts to tell them that Bucky’s baby batter was baking inside you right now. That would’ve 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 he’d 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 husband’s second in command, seemed strangely out of sorts as he clenched a fist and said something close to Bucky’s 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 started—like most fun things in life—but 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 spot—less than a stone’s 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.

You’d 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 you’d told yourself just twenty-four hours ago that your mind and body would be on the fritz craving Bucky’s touch, you wouldn’t have believed it. If someone had said sex, and cumming around someone you loved, was a worthwhile experience, you probably would’ve 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 husband’s 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 didn’t really care.

You brought the near-spent cigarette up to your lips for the last couple puffs. When you’d 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.

“Hi.”

“Howdy.”

Okay, John Wayne, what the fuck? The man sounded, and looked, like something straight out of a western film.

“No need to stop on my account,” he tipped his chin toward the cigarette on the ground, “I won’t snitch.”

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.

“Courtesy of your husband,” he said.

You frowned. A flask?

“It’s not even noon,” you answered.

“Bucky wanted me to relay the message that your mom invited a boatload more folks, and it don’t seem they’re fixin’ to leave anytime soon. Said you might need this.”

Gingerly, you accepted the gift and unscrewed the cap. You almost gagged when you got a whiff of pure vodka.

“Fuckin’ A,” you coughed, “What’s this, nail polish remover?”

“Stolichnaya. Can’t talk shit until you’ve tried it.”

Your eyes were still watering from the pungent stench of 80 proof spirits when you saw the man’s outstretched arm again—this time, to shake your hand.

“Joey, by the way.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself as well, blinking back a few tears.

“You’re a friend of my husband’s?” you asked.

“From the service, yeah. We go way back.”

You couldn’t help but raise both brows in question.

“The service,” you repeated.

“Russian Armed Forces,” 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.

“Sorry—I thought you knew,” he said sheepishly.

Your husband’s 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.

“Perks of arranged marriage,” you said, “We’re wed for life and I don’t even know the guy’s job title.”

That earned a laugh from the tall, gaunt figure in front of you. His features visibly relaxed, and he wasn’t smiling so smugly anymore. He motioned toward the bench.

“You mind?”

“Not at all.”

You fished for a cigarette as Joey sat down beside you. When he’d 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 didn’t normally get to see that happen—rarely seizing the opportunity to make friends of near-strangers—but this weekend had already presented a bevy of firsts. What harm could a quick smoke break with Bucky’s 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 weren’t ashamed to admit he might’ve been your type maybe four or five years, and several degrees of naïveté, 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.

“So you’re a Puritan, then?” Joey said at length.

“Huh?” You leaned back to stretch.

“You haven’t touched that flask.”

You glanced down at the silver canteen between you. You picked it up.

“Haven’t been into straight liquor since college,” you shrugged.

“But it’s your wedding weekend,” Joey smirked, “Think it says somewhere in the rule book you’ve gotta be hammered the whole time.”

“Does it? I must’ve missed that one,” you hummed.

Rather than answer you verbally, Bucky’s 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.

“Open.”

“No!”

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 ‘brotherhood.�� You had to assume he was just being friendly.

“C’mon. Quit bitchin’ and open up,” 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 it’d cost him nothing to fuck off and stay off, when a voice broke out through the foliage behind you.

“Honey? Hon, you there?”

Immediate relief at hearing your husband’s voice.

You craned your neck to look around.

“I’m here, Bucky!” 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 he’d vanished. Your eyes scanned the beach, the lawn, even the bushes behind you and couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere. All that was left was the flask.

“Bucky, I just—”

“We need to go,” your husband cut in.

His narrowed, steely gaze sent a jolt of apprehension through you.

“Go wh—”

“Now, baby, please. I’ll tell you in the car.”

Your face dropped.

“We’re leaving?”

Shortly, Steve trotted over. Bleak as you’d ever seen him with his hands balled in fists at his sides. And a deep-set scowl.

“Whole fuckin’ swarm of ‘em now,” he pronounced.

Bucky didn’t 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.

“Get the fuck up,” 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. Bucky’s 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 man’s shoulder and made sure he felt it.

“Don’t you start this shit again,” he said, “Lay off.”

Steve ignored him entirely and took the lead around the hotel’s 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 nearby—this time much closer, sending a shower of flames sailing through the air and all over—and 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 could’ve snapped it in two, but you didn’t blink. All of your senses were kicked into overdrive and focalized, unflinching, on the sight of more carnage than you could comprehend.

“Here!” 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.

“Hangar’s clear.”

Sam, by the sound of it.

He jumped in shotgun while Steve seized the wheel. Bucky hadn’t 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 weren’t sure what you’d been expecting then, but it certainly wasn’t your husband’s weight crushing you from above as he pinned you to the floor of the car.

This wasn’t the seamless, smart exit that the heroes of the action-packed stories always had. Bucky didn’t 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 Steve’s driving, it seemed, just frantic desperation and a will not to die.

Minutes, seconds, sights, and sounds—or what little of the world you could grasp from your cowered position—all 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 Bucky’s 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. Would’ve 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 Bucky’s Boeing 787 came surprisingly cheap: just sit back and be ‘pregnant.’

You’d been flanked by medics as soon as you arrived at the hangar—a place tucked away just a few short miles from the hotel, where Bucky kept his aircraft for speedy escapes, apparently—and had been carried onto a jet. You didn’t 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.

“It’s not— not her blood, is it?” your husband stammered, gesturing toward your dress.

“Some of it,” 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.

“She’s not looking at me,” Bucky’s lip visibly trembled as he drew you closer, “Honey, I’m here— I’m right h—”

“She’s in shock.” 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 couldn’t speak, but you could think in bits and pieces. You blinked again.

“She looks like death warmed over.”

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 didn’t 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.

“She’s pregnant.”

I beg your finest pardon? You blinked a bit harder.

“No, she’s not, Buck,” Sam said from down the aisle.

“Well, she could be,” Bucky chided, “We’ve been going at it like rabbits since the—”

“Fuck’s sake,” Steve slapped a palm over his forehead. If you weren’t currently balls-deep in a state of mental disarray you probably would’ve done the same.

Bucky had made sure to tell all medical personnel aboard the plane that you were—or very well could be—carrying his child, so would you please take all precautionary measures possible? She’s my wife. You suspected if the doctors and nurses weren’t all on Bucky’s payroll they probably would’ve rolled their eyes and reminded him that all you needed were stitches, dressings, and extra fluids. And no, Mr. Barnes, your wife probably isn’t pregnant, even if you think your sperm is ‘built different’ than most.

“She’ll be fine either way,” 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 wasn’t convinced. Against all physicians’ 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 Bucky’s gaze for the first time, and the man looked overjoyed.

“See? See? She’s back.” Bucky squeezed your hip—and immediately released it when you winced.

“Mind the bandages, Mr. Barnes.”

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 wasn’t 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 you’d let him.

Steve, on the other hand, didn’t seem quite as thrilled.

Sam watched the medics’ departure with a wary look.

“She probably needs to rest, Bucky,” the latter said, careful with his words.

Bucky’s eyes never strayed from yours.

“She’s okay, Sam. She’s good.” 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.

“Feelin’ alright?” 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.

“She’s not a child, Barnes,” Steve muttered.

“Should probably keep that elevated,” Sam cut in, nodding toward your swollen ankle, “We’ll get some ice.”

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,

“I’ll go.”

He kissed the top of your head and assured you he’d be right back. He’d 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 could’ve killed you ten times over, fisting his drink in a white-knuckled grip.

You watched him right back. Tried hard not to blink.

“Something wrong?”

You weren’t sure how you’d even mustered the strength to speak. Steve just brought it out of you, you figured.

“You tell me.” Tone dripping with disdain.

You raked your gaze over the man for a second, finding him dressed head-to-toe in his three piece suit—muddied with blood here and there, but still no worse for wear than you’d seen him an hour or two ago. It was that frown you couldn’t 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 couldn’t make sense of the man’s indignation, so you wanted to ask him directly; before you could, though, Steve was interjecting, at length,

“We should’ve left you to die with the rest of your family.”

Your jaw slackened a bit.

“What?”

“You, your mother, your two-timing shitstain of a father. Every one of you should’ve stayed there to rot.”

Never mind the fact that he’d just wished you dead to your face—what did he mean about your parents?

“But they’re coming with us. Bucky said,” you managed.

“He did?” Steve grinned humorlessly, “He lied, doll. Your folks are probably bound and gagged at the bottom of the ocean right now.”

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.

“What are you talking about?”

You drew closer to Steve, who only sat back and sipped his scotch with amusement.

“What? That wasn’t part of the plan?” he quirked a brow, “Didn’t think anyone would dare lay a finger on your precious, self-righteous fucking family—”

You hardly even noticed you’d swatted Steve’s 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.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” 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.

“You picked a real spitfire, Buck,” 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 wouldn’t budge.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! Where are my parents?” You tried to shake your husband off as Steve’s grin grew even bigger.

“They’re fine, honey. Sit down, please,” Bucky mumbled.

“No! He said they were dead!” you shot back, eyes never leaving the smug, smirking face that seemed to be enthralled by the spectacle in front of him.

“Why don’t you tell her, Buck? Girl deserves to know.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rogers,” Sam uttered quietly.

“Tell me what?”

“It’s nothing, your parents are fine,” Bucky seemed pensive now, gaze scanning the ceiling for a second as he tried to collect his thoughts. You shoved his hands off.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, James,” you said, diverting your attention to glare up at him, “What’s going on?”

“Either she’s a world-class actress or she really doesn’t have the first clue about this. Enlighten her.” Steve seemed a little more serene as he unscrewed a bottle of Talisker and reached for a second glass. You would’ve liked to knock back one or two—or ten—yourself.

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.

“Baby—” He reached for you, but you pulled back.

“No.”

You wouldn’t ask him again. Your husband was wounded by the sight of your recoil—and perhaps by some painful truths he’d be compelled to share as well—and he wrung his hands. Started to chew the inside of his cheek.

Sam snagged the scotch and made a heavy pour.

“Why’d you marry him?” Steve said suddenly.

Bucky’s face dropped; you raised a brow in question. Before your husband could stop you, you answered,

“Because my dad was in debt.”

“For what?”

You paused.

“Real estate. Gambling. Fuck if I know.”

Steve nodded. Ignored Bucky’s sharp, reproachful gaze.

“And how much money did he owe?” he asked.

“Steve,” Sam warned.

“Four, five million—more than he could ever repay.”

This time, it was Steve to raise both brows as he mulled over your response. He almost looked surprised.

“You’re forced to marry a man just to settle a debt and you don’t even know the price that tight little body’s paying?” he scoffed.

His words hadn’t 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 Steve’s 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.

“Say it again.” Your husband sounded dispassionate as ever. Like this was something he was used to doing.

“She should’ve known!” 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.

“I wasn’t exactly in a place to negotiate,” you grumbled, “They were going to kill my father if we didn’t settle it, so I wasn’t all that interested in knowing how much money my A1 cunt was gonna cost Bucky. Personally.”

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.

“Fair enough,” Steve conceded. He stopped to consider his words—ones that wouldn’t prompt Bucky to punch him directly in the throat—and looked to you, curious,

“Why would the mob kill him over a few million dollars?”

You shrugged.

“He’s a real estate broker. They probably knew he couldn’t fork over that kind of cash.”

Something akin to a stifled chuckle and a cough sounded from Sam, while Steve outright broke out laughing. Even Bucky’s expression softened a little as he rubbed his knuckles and paced closer to you.

“What?” you spat, “Did I say something funny?”

Sam shook his head slowly, starting, “I don’t think—”

“Your daddy’s a fucking gunrunner, sugar,” Steve wheezed, “Head of a multinational arms trafficking syndicate—motherfucker is not selling houses.”

Your insides churned with a mixture of disbelief and revulsion, but you couldn’t let them see that. When Bucky reached for your hand, you yanked it back again.

“And how the fuck would you know?” you said to Steve.

“We work with him. Used to work for him, at one point,” Sam answered.

“And the man is horseshit at business”—Steve paused to see if Bucky had shot him a warning look but found your husband far too concerned with capturing your attention—“He was $90 million in the hole when Bucky came to the rescue.”

“James?” You finally turned to him.

“And your daddy didn’t even owe the money to Bucky, he owed it to HYDRA,” Steve sneered.

“James,” you pressed again.

You couldn’t understand why your husband refused to speak—going as deadpan and radio silent as the night before. He stood there and watched you with a rigid, inflexible gaze.

“HYDRA as in— the Russian mob?” you asked him.

“No, the Girl Scouts,” Steve huffed, “Yes, the mob.”

“Schröder’s boys. Your dad’s been in business with them for years—owed them a lot of money,” Sam added.

“And your dad and Bucky’s dad have been friends even longer. So Bucky figured he’d do yours a favor and pay the debt himself.” Steve seemed eager to tell this story.

All the while, the hue of Bucky’s cheeks grew even deeper—like he didn’t want this coming to light. He sensed you wouldn’t stand down until you’d heard the whole ugly truth, though, so he held your gaze and watched you grow more repulsed by the second.

“Then why’d he need me? Just another bartering chip?” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, “A pawn?”

“A peace offering,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve and Sam finally clammed up long enough to let him speak, but your husband seemed taciturn as ever.

“Your father didn’t owe me anything. I would’ve paid his debt and left it at that, but he insisted I— 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.”

Bucky spoke slow, like every word was a labored breath. Hardly the same could be said for his friends.

“That was until your dipshit weapons dealer daddy decided he’d have his cake and eat it too. Struck an even sweeter deal with HYDRA and played in our faces,” Steve said.

“At the direction of Mr. Schröder, your father tried to intercept a shipment bound for one of Bucky’s warehouses in Brooklyn,” Sam continued, “Only problem is he fucked up the execution and cost Schröder a dozen men and tens of millions of dollars in artillery and blow.”

“So Schröder paid him a visit today,” 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 you’d just ingested cyanide.

Fuck, did you need a drink.

You couldn’t look at Bucky or Steve or Sam any longer.

You reached for your clutch and pulled out Joey’s 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.

“So you think I had something to do with the new HYDRA deal?” you asked, “You honestly th—FUCK!”

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.

“Liquor? For our baby?” 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.

“Where did you get this?” Bucky asked, suddenly pale.

“You, dumbass!”

“Me?”

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.

“Your friend gave it to me earlier saying that you wanted me to have it,” you said.

All three men looked up at once.

“What friend?” Sam asked.

“Joey,” you answered, “Bucky’s friend from the army.”

If it were possible for your husband to get any paler his skin might’ve turned the color of cottage cheese. His eyes were wide with fear.

Then he was hurrying to your side. Taking your hand.

“What friend from the army? What’d he look like?”

You were still scanning Bucky’s face, trying to make sense of the apprehension etched into his features, when you managed,

“I-I dunno. Blond. Light brown eyes.”

“Tall fella?” Steve asked.

“Very.”

“Have a German accent?” Sam pressed.

“No, a real thick Southern accent,” you shook your head. It didn’t occur to you then that it could’ve 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.

“He had a—” You tapped your chin lightly, “—a little scar right here.”

You would’ve thought you’d 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 they’d just discovered the Atlantic Ocean—and 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.

“Joey?” he intoned feebly.

“Yes,” you answered—feeling ineffectual, even dense, for not catching on to what the rest of them had discovered.

Fortunately, Sam wouldn’t let you wallow in ignorance.

“Johann Schröder,” he supplied in a second, “The man you were talking to was Mr. Schröder, head of HYDRA.”

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 he’d taken in his other hand and watched a frothy pink liquid spill out.

“Looks to be a serum of his,” Steve said, hollow as you’d ever heard him, “Kind of like…roofies.”

“You didn’t drink any of it, did you?” Sam asked.

“Nuh-uh. Bucky showed up right as he was trying to, uh— to pour it in my mouth.”

A beat of silence gripped the room.

Bucky looked like he might burst a blood vessel, or someone’s skull. Or both.

Still, he wouldn’t speak to you.

The inside of your head was throbbing.

You almost preferred the ruthless, irate glint in Steve’s eye when he’d 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 husband—a motherfucker who couldn’t 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 couldn’t 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 wouldn’t 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 before—not entirely appropriate now, but a nice touch nonetheless—and slipping your shoes off your feet. You felt his hand graze your ankle, and then he was saying he’d be right back with those ice packs.

You reached for his hand before he could leave.

“I don’t want it,” you said, your voice slightly muffled by the tissues, “Want you to talk to me, James.”

Bucky’s brow pinched inward. He kneeled down in front of you, where you were sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I am— I’m talking to you right now, honey, I—”

“You know what I mean.”

Bucky wiped his hand down his face and shook his head. Like he was trying to rid himself of a thought.

“I don’t want to talk about HYDRA. Or your father,” he said simply.

“Why not?”

“You’re not in the right place to hear it.”

You plucked the toilet paper away from your face long enough to give him a stern glare.

“We’re 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.”

Bucky was left stumped for a second. Then he slowly rose back to his feet.

“Okay.”

Infuriating.

“Okay?” you snapped, “We could’ve died five times today and all you can say is okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

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.

“I need to see my family,” You stood firm, “As soon as we land wherever it is we’re going, I’m on the first flight back to New York—or wherever they are.”

You dabbed at your nose once more and looked up at him.

“No, you’re not,” Bucky returned.

“What? You’re gonna stop me?”

“Yes, I will.”

The worst part was he wasn’t 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 man’s reticence was grating on your nerves.

“Why bother, Buck?” you snorted, “It’s not like I’m even your wife, really. I’m just a peace offering that you get to bend over and fuck every now and then, right?”

You turned to make your first circuit around the foot of the bed but were shortly met with the expanse of Bucky’s chest. You looked up to find him frowning.

“Don’t say that again,” he glowered down at you.

Unlike most times before, you didn’t flinch. When he reached for your wrists, you didn’t let him win.

“I’m not your wife,” you repeated, “We may be playing the most fucked up game of mob charades, but this is not a real marriage.”

You ignored Bucky’s 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.

“You are my wife,” he insisted, frown growing deeper as you crept along the edge of the room, “Everything I do now is for you—it’s not a goddamn game to me.”

“You used me for some Machiavellian marriage ploy! That is the definition of a game, James!”

“I don’t even know what the fuck that means,” Bucky said, “But I love you.”

“You met me yesterday, motherfucker!”

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 face—apparently he’d grabbed a washcloth and dampened it—and laced his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. He held you firmly as he blotted the blood.

“Is it so hard to believe that I love you?” 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.

“You want someone to control, Bucky,” you said, “Love is not a power play that you get to manipulate at will.”

Bucky blinked, trying to conjure up a response as he daubed the skin with a little more force. You weren’t finished.

“You look at me and see a victim. Someone you need to watch over— who can’t take care of themse—”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? That’s not what a ‘good little wife’ is to you?” 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.

“That’s a— a bit I do when I’m horny. I don’t actually want you subservient to me,” he muttered as he looked around for a hanger. Finally, he just draped the coat over the back of a chair and sighed.

“So holding me hostage from my family is a bit, too?” you quizzed.

“To keep you safe from the people who tried to kill them. I’m sorry I don’t want to see you butchered because of me,” Bucky returned with just as much biting sarcasm.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You despised the indignation in your tone but couldn’t help it. These thoughts had been brewing inside your skull for hours. You watched Bucky struggle to undo his bow tie—just like the night before—and, again, your brain barely registered the action before you were reaching for the garment and tugging at the fabric to loosen it yourself.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked, brow furrowed.

“Last night,” you yanked harder than you meant to. The knot just got tighter, “And today. Tonight. You’re as still as the fucking grave and won’t say a word when something bad is happening. You just let it happen.”

You tried to pry your fingers through the tie but found it stiff as ever. You groaned inwardly.

“No, I don’t,” Bucky objected.

“You’re doing it right now! You wouldn’t tell me about HYDRA, or my father, or the guy who could’ve— hurt me. You didn’t say a word of that to me, and you expect me to believe we’re in this together? That you’re trying to keep me safe? You couldn’t even—” you paused to pull at that stupid tie your husband had tangled about four times over, finally feeling it give way a little—“couldn’t even pretend to give a fuck when those men broke in last night and almost killed us!”

Just as you freed the silk from its knot, Bucky seized your wrist. Shoved your hand off of his collar.

“I had to do that,” 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.

“You didn’t do anything, Bucky! You just sat there and got the shit beat out of you for no fucking reason! You didn’t even try to fight back.”

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.

“You think I wanted to do that?!” he barked. Suddenly facing you head-on, skin flushed a shade just shy of crimson.

“You were too chickenshit. Didn’t wanna get your hands dirty, so you let Sam do it for you,” 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 didn’t move—just watched you with the most cruel, unflinching gaze as he clenched his jaw.

“I’m chickenshit?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Coward,” you spat.

“Too much of a coward to keep you safe?”

“Precisely.”

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.

“Did you hear what language they spoke?” he asked, voice unbearably low as he drew his face closer to yours.

“It sounded like—”

“Russian, that’s right,” Bucky cut in, “Do you know what they said to me when they pulled us to the floor?”

You swallowed and said nothing. Bucky’s breaths were fanning hot across your cheeks, sending waves of a strange sensation all throughout your body—you weren’t sure if you were meant to be aroused or scared shitless.

“They told me, ‘If you move, we’ll kill her,’” Bucky deadpanned as he began to trace the wallpaper beside your head with a single, bloodied finger, “‘If you fight, we’ll dismember her and set fire to every piece of her body in front of you.’ Or something to that effect.”

The repetition of their words seared your veins like a legion of flames. You could picture them saying it. Grabbing hold of Bucky’s 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.

“Bucky—” you started.

“I know they meant it, too. HYDRA operatives make good on their promises if they really set out to harm someone.”

Your husband’s 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.

“I know I should’ve told you then. And after. I should’ve told you about your father as soon as Steve’s informant told us. I just—” Bucky stopped to swallow; he couldn’t meet your gaze—“I didn’t want that hanging over your head. Not after everything that happened last night.”

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.

“I am a coward. And controlling. Probably the most chickenshit, overbearing son of a bitch you could’ve been unfortunate enough to marry.” For a moment, Bucky’s gaze flickered to yours, and you saw a blooming red hue around the blues of his irises, “But that’s not how I’m supposed to love you—or going to love you.”

You weren’t sure how to reply; you tried raising a hand to his cheek, just to touch the skin, but decided against it.

“I’ve been a shit husband, fake or not. I’m sorry.”

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 expression—suddenly not wanting you to see the shades of his emotions painted there—and 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,

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.”

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 didn’t 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 you’d sustained over the course of that day, watched Bucky’s 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 him—now more than ever.

When Bucky’s hand trailed over your chin, you tilted your head just slightly to kiss it. Your husband didn’t 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 Bucky’s 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.

“Honey,” he let out a sigh, half-encouragement and half-warning—what were you trying to do?

You glided your mouth down his finger so half of his thumb was enveloped inside. You sucked it again.

“You can’t…” Bucky maintained feebly, eyes briefly scouring all the cuts and bruises across your skin. He didn’t 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 didn’t intimidate or belittle you was refreshing. Sexy, almost. Admittedly, the bar for mob boss husbands was hovering somewhere deep in hell, but you admired Bucky’s efforts all the same.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and smiled.

“You worry too much, Mr. Barnes.”

The echo of his words from earlier—the ones he’d said as he was railing you against a mirror—made Bucky’s cock twitch. His gaze trailed down to the sheen of saliva on your lip, and he almost folded on the spot. He swallowed.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, bunny,” he murmured as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and peered up at him.

“Hurt me how?”

You really hadn’t meant to sound like such a tease when you’d 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 couldn’t fathom how he’d fit inside of you the night before. You were amazed how quickly he’d gotten hard—as if the two of you weren’t just having a heart-to-heart a second ago—and you felt your own arousal pool in your panties.

“You know I don’t mind if it hurts. Love the way you stretch me out anyhow,” you continued, and tried not to smirk as you imagined a dozen filthy images from last night flash before Bucky’s 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 he’d first wedged his face between your legs and gotten a taste of you. You hadn’t so much as sampled an inch of his cock, and you were already aching to swallow him whole.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” 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.

“Can I take you in my mouth, daddy?” 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 hadn’t seen his length at all last night��too busy having it stuffed inside your cunt to get a good look—but holy shit was it an intimidating sight. You weren’t 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 I’ve never fit anything bigger than a couple fingers in my mouth. This should go well.

Bucky was evidently so turned on that he didn’t 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 I…lick 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.

“Fuck, baby,” 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, “Take me in your mouth.”

You heard the Kill Bill sirens blare between your ears but said nothing. You could do this—you’d 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 didn’t 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, Bucky’s dick did not taste like spearmint.

He pulled his cock out as quickly as he’d pushed it in.

“Sorry. Shit, sorry.” 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 before—most 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.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, baby,” Bucky said, stroking the top of your head.

Suddenly, the frown was turned in his direction.

You raised a brow.

“Why? That all you got, Barnes?”

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle—and grunt, a little—when you grabbed the base of his cock and brought it down to your swollen pout. His hand instinctively moved back to the wall.

“Honey, are you s—”

He stopped the second you rubbed him up and down and pressed a kiss on the most sensitive skin.

“My mouth isn’t made of paper mâché. You can fuck it a little harder than that,” 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 hurt—then bobbed your head even further. One of your husband’s 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 mouth—

“—fucking hell you feel good,” 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 world’s sweetest gaze, mouth stuffed full of his cock and eyes all but rolling back at the overwhelming sensation. You’d nearly made it all the way to the short tufts of hair on his lower abdomen—and 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.

“You like that, doll? Like when daddy fucks that slutty little mouth of yours?”

“Barely fits but you take it so well, bunny.”

“My good little wife and her pretty fucking mouth—likes sucking daddy’s cock however deep he needs it, huh?”

You liked it more than the air in your lungs, to be honest. Only problem was you couldn’t 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 ‘yes.’ 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 he’d 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 you’d answer a little more sweetly and incoherently than before, eyes glazed with desire and mouth open for more.

You were amazed you’d lasted as long as you had—how quickly you’d 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 wouldn’t cum down your throat—not 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 wasn’t 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. You’d 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 reflection—in a floor-to-ceiling mirror at the foot of the bed—followed by Bucky’s 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.

“You didn’t mean it, did you?” he asked, tone suddenly dropped to that of a stoic.

“Mean what?”

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 could—you wouldn’t let him win that easy.

“When you said you weren’t my wife. Did you mean it?” Bucky was coating himself now, rolling his hips back and forth while you seized the white linens for dear life.

“No. I didn’t,” you said through your teeth. Your eyelids fluttered with the feel of him circling your sensitive hole.

“Do you want to be my wife?” Bucky had to have known it was an asinine question, but he asked it all the same.

“Yes.”

“You do?”

“I do. I do. Now will you just fuck me already?”

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 mirror—daring your hips to move back another inch.

“What else do you want to be, doll?”

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.

“Your wife, your girl— that’s it, Bucky.”

Your husband nudged his cock a little deeper.

“A good girl?” he hummed.

“Yes, daddy,” you cried and clenched around him.

Bucky stayed where he was and stretched your wet, aching hole with just his tip, making the world’s 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 didn’t care what the man saw or heard. You fought with your hips and whined into the sheets.

“Bucky!”

“Wanna be my obedient little cockslut?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“My bunny?”

“Yes, James.” 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.

“How about a momma?” he pressed, almost too low to be heard, “Wanna be that, too?”

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,

“W-what?”

Bucky delivered a thrust that knocked the breath from your chest, leaning down to rub your clit even harder.

“Do you want to be a mommy? Have me fill you up and put my baby inside you?”

Oh, fuck. Fucking—what the fuck? Your toes curled as a new jolt of pleasure shot through you, and your gaze locked with Bucky’s in the mirror. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“No— James, we’re not, shit—” you stopped to take a breath as he fucked you rough from behind, smirking the whole time, “We’re not ready for that.”

“Look pretty…ready to me,” 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 wasn’t clear just who was more overcome with desire—both of you blissed out and fuckdrunk as you’d ever been—and 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.

“James,” 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 he’d 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.

“Just one, honey,” he mumbled, lips grazing the edge of your jaw, “One baby and I promise we’ll be done.”

Yeah fucking right, you wanted to return with a roll of your eyes but felt your insides churn as he grazed that spot.

“Can you do that for me, doll?” he eased his dick back and forth and snaked a hand between your bodies until his palm was laying flat on your stomach, “Fit my baby in there?”

You couldn’t 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 Bucky’s hand on your lower abdomen, was as close to euphoric as you’d ever felt before orgasm, and it wasn’t hard to tell from the way your body responded. Bucky worked his touch even deeper and watched you writhe beneath him.

“My sweet girl,” he cooed, rubbing that spot, “You’d look so pretty all swole up down here, don’t you think?”

Fucking hell, this guy was good. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to shake your head.

“Someone…tried to kill us…twice in the last twenty four hours,” you managed between labored breaths. Trying not to whimper when the head of Bucky’s 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.

“I’ll take Schröder’s life with my own two hands if it means keeping you—” he paused to press his palm even firmer on your stomach, “—and our child safe, honey.”

You wanted to believe him. You sincerely hoped your husband could make good on his promise—even if it meant delivering an agonizing, bloody death to a man you barely knew—but you sensed deep down that there were no guarantees in the world Bucky Barnes inhabited. From what little you’d 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.

“No, Bucky,” 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, “That’s entirely just— just irresponsible. You know it would be.”

“Making a child together?” 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.

“Okay. No, you’re right. It’s your choice, my love,” 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 Bucky’s sides, and your head fell back on the bed. You felt Bucky’s drop right beside you, turned just slightly to graze his lips against your ear.

“Gonna cum for me, doll?”

You nodded.

“So close, Bucky,” you breathed, a tremor passing over your thighs as they squeezed him even tighter.

You felt your husband’s hand move from your belly to a place just below it—taking care to bring the pad of his thumb to that wet, aching bundle of nerves—and started drawing circles. Your back arched from the bed, into him, and the coil of pleasure in your lower half swelled.

“Good girl,” Bucky growled, “Good fuckin’ girl, taking me so well.”

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.

“Gonna make a mess of this cock, huh? Show daddy just how much you love it?”

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 stupid—and begged for your release.

“Cum for daddy, honey, I know you got it. Let daddy feel it, baby, please.”

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 Bucky’s shoulder instead, causing the man above you to grin and fuck you harder.

“That’s my girl,” 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.

“Honey— honey,” he said, voice strained, “Baby, you— you gotta let go of your— ah, fuck.”

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.

“Baby, let go, I gotta—”

He probably could’ve 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 you’d told him and forced himself back to earth, dropping a quick, apologetic kiss to the side of your face.

“I’m sorry. Should’ve pulled out quicker,” Bucky panted against your neck.

You stroked his bicep and shook your head.

“You’re fine. I kinda had you down like a boa constrictor for a second,” 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 now—surely one more half-load of his wouldn’t get you pregnant, right?

Fortunately, you didn’t have much longer to ponder that thought because a trill of a ringtone sounded from the nightstand.

A phone call? At 45,000 feet?

“Just the intercom,” Bucky called out, “Probably Steve about to start complaining that we fuck too loud.”

Huh. You stared at the trimline-looking telephone on the table and let it ring. Then the sound stopped.

“You think they could hear us?” you asked.

Bucky had just wet a washcloth under the sink and was rifling through the cabinets for something else.

“Hope so,” he said with a shrug, “You know I’d never miss a chance to let ‘em know I took a trip to poundtown—”

“Please never say that again,” 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 again—perhaps to tell your husband there would be an indefinite travel ban to poundtown if he didn’t hurry the fuck up with that towel—when the intercom’s 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.

“Barnes residence,” 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, “Bucky Barnes is very busy laying pipe on his wife right now, but if you could leave your name and number, he’ll be sure to call you back as soon as possible!”

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 phone’s receiver.

“Sure thing, doll. Tell him it’s Joey Schröder calling.”

Taglist: @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx, @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes, @wilsons-striped-ties, @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @fandomsfeminismandme, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic, @dameron-grant-spector, @sushiseoks, @deansapplepie, @mrsjoequinn, @lunaroserites, @first-edition, @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi, @excusememrbarnes, @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl, @diannana, @shawnberry, @yujyujj, @urmomsalex, @mrs-bucky-barnes-73, @athenabarnes, @christinabae, @wintrsoldrluvr, @bethbunnyy, @i-heart-smut

(If I missed anyone or tagged improperly, please let me know! This is my first rodeo taglist)

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Bucky and Touch Headcanons

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: Just some Headcanons about Bucky and learning to trust human contact again

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, Bucky’s trauma, abuse at the hands of HYDRA, insecurities, self conscious Bucky, pet names, no y/n used, no pronouns used beyond "you"

A/N: if you haven't noticed I definitely have a type when it comes to fic and that fic is hurt/comfort with Bucky. I kinda feel like everything I've written is like the same thing in different fonts, but oh well 😅 anyways, Bucky re-learning that hands on his body doesn’t inherently mean pain and becoming super cuddly and touchy with someone he loves is my SHIT inject that into my VEINS man

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))

It takes Bucky a really long time to get accustomed to human contact again, after you two got together it took him a while to even do something so innocent as hold your hand.

It’s not that Bucky hates it

He loves being close to you, he wants it so badly

And he’s touch-starved

He’s so touch-starved

But he went so long without positive human contact, and now that he’s free he wanted it so badly he could feel his chest aching for it

But it made him so nervous to want to try

After one night where you mindlessly reached up to casually touch his face and he flinched away hard, after all open hand coming towards his face had meant pain for so long, you two had a long conversation about his comfort levels

You two took things slow initially

You would sit on the couch together, watching a movie and talking with your fingers intertwined, your thumb stroking his knuckles.

Sometimes you’ll fall asleep on his shoulder, something he’s slowly started to accept

At the very least he’s stopped freezing when he feels your head droop to his arm

But now that he’s grown used to it and learned to love it? He wants to be touching you all the time

Bucky almost always has his arm around you, or a hand on your back, holding your hand, etc.

He would never admit it to anyone but you, but he’s SUCH a little spoon.

Bucky loves when you hold him, resting his head on your chest while you rub his back brings him a level of calm that he’s never felt before

Or when you hold him from behind and he curls into your body

You slip your hand under his shirt and run your hands along his tummy, gently stroking your fingers along his skin

You know he’s a lot larger than you, being a wall of muscle that has at least a head of height on you

But seeing him sleeping peacefully, wrapped in your arms with a little smile on his face he looks so small

He loves when you play with his hair.

It took him a long time to be okay with it (too many memories of handlers grabbing and/or dragging him by the hair), but now?

If he had it his way your hands would never leave it

Whenever you two are holding each other your hands always seem to find their way to his dark locks, brushing them out of his eyes or carding your fingers through it

You learned that the quickest way to get him to fall asleep is to stroke his hair, and put him to sleep like that every night

When it was long, Bucky loved when you combed it for him after a shower, or braided and unbraided it while he laid in your lap during a movie

Now that it’s cut short (thanks to you, he didn’t trust anyone else to do it) you’re pretty much always playing with it in some way

As much as you loved his long hair, his shorter cut is nice because it’s a bit more manageable and still just as soft

Bucky loves when you massage his scalp, feeling your nails gently scratching against his head makes him melt every time

He also loves when you bathe him or bathe with him

Bucky had a lot of anxiety around being naked in front of you, too many bad memories of being stripped and hosed down after missions or beaten within an inch of his life

But with lots of time and comfort and assurances he eventually opened up and got more comfortable

Long baths with you are his favorite thing.

Whether you get in with him or not, he loves how gentle you are with washing his body, massaging sore muscles and peppering his chest and back with little kisses

He especially loves when you wash his hair (I know, shocking).

Usually when you’re done washing him you’ll guide his head to lay in your lap while you stroke his hair.

When it’s time for him to get out you usually have to wake him up, it makes you smile

Peace looks so good on him, you just want to let him bask in it forever

And oh GOD he loves skin-on-skin contact so much

It took so long for Bucky to learn that he was allowed to want things

When he first started opening up with touch, he would wait until the aching in his chest got unbearable before asking if you would do some skin-on-skin with him

You never wanted to push him, but you tried to teach him that he was allowed to ask for things he didn't need immediately.

He didn't have to wait until he absolutely needed something to ask for it.

He was allowed to just want things.

Once he finally gets used to asking for things he wants skin-on-skin all the time.

Most every night you end up cuddled up in bed, sans clothing, Bucky pretty much on top of you, his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

He'll press little kisses to your chest, making you smile when his stubble tickles against your skin

“I love you,” he whispers into your neck, “how did I get so lucky, hm?”

You smile softly and kiss his forehead

“Believe me Buck, I'm the lucky one.”

[zeketarion]

levi hates being touched, even if it's a guy from a random person or a handshake, he'll decline. it's a complicated thing, he isn't used to things that would be considered "gentle touches".

most of his life levi has just experienced violence and cruelty at the hands of many, those he knew and even strangers. getting beaten within a half inch of your life almost everyday just to get your hands on even the smallest slice of bread is something that doesn't really leave you.

so, levi hates being touched. he can really only correlate being touched to being violet and unruly.

it takes a while for levi to warm up to the idea of you touching him, even if you two are in a relationship. it's not that he doesn't trust you, he's just scared. though he wouldn't admit it outright.

sometimes, people are afraid of the unknown but levi has never been afraid of anything. not in a long time at least. no titan, man or animal has invoked fear into him like this has.

he's not sure where to even start. but when you invite him to take a warm bath with you he agrees, he's not even sure why.

you keep your hands to yourself as to not cross his boundaries. levi can't help but feel conflicted, he wants to touch you, he wants to be like other couples who hold hands and hug each other so close that they seem as if they're one.

"can i wash your back?" the question is polite, innocent. levi agrees, it wouldn't hurt, right? he trusts you, he believes you won't hurt him. you aren't those men, you aren't those strangers.

your touch is everything he dreamt of and more, gentle. a gentle touch. he melts, his body relaxing.

maybe this was the first step you both had to take.

[fawnwilde]

Could you potentially write a little something about reader traveling with Charles after Arthur’s death? Reader was in the gang, she is very sweet and friendly, and is good at getting people to do what she wants, while Charles is good at survival and keeping them alive. Together they travel, seemingly complete opposites but slowly falling for each other. Reader understands his need for silence, and Charles entertains her meaningless conversations. Charles is tired of being a lone wolf and finds comfort in having someone to look out for, and gains a sense of safety having her looking out for him. Maybe something about them around a campfire one night, maybe reader convinces Charles to have a drink with her and things get a little intimate for the first time, or fluffy idk! Whatever you want! Thank you very much

What Comes After I ⋆˚࿔

Charles Smith x reader

next

rating: explicit (18+)

This is such a great ask, thank you so much!! I took the prompt and kind of went crazy with it, so I hope you like it! <3

content warning: smut MDNI, angst, fluff, sunshine reader, period typical racism, friends to lovers, outdoor sex shenanigans, cunnilingus, piv sex, cuddlin n shit

word count: 4.2k

You were there when Arthur died.

The both of you had witnessed the gang’s demise, until it was only you two and John left. When it came to it, he had told you to leave with John. And you planned to, but you had a bad feeling when Arthur left your line of sight.

You found him on the mountain, beaten to within an inch of his life with Micah Bell standing over him. You tried to get in between them, willing to die to protect your friend. Micah looked ready to do that for you, if Dutch hadn't intervened.

But that brief kindness meant nothing to you when both he and Micah left, turning their backs on you.

Arthur told you not to worry, told you to leave in case Micah came back. But you refused, unwilling to leave him in his state. You held his hand as he succumbed to his injuries, his body too far gone to do anything. The both of you watched the sun rise, and you only allowed yourself to cry when you felt his hand go limp in yours.

Charles found you there, not too long later.

You were sitting beside your fallen friend, tears blurring your vision as you prepared yourself to bury Arthur. A shadow was cast over you, and you looked up to see Mr Smith, a devastated look on his face.

You weren't upset with Charles for not being there when it all fell apart. He had his own job to do, one which was personal to him. But no matter how many times you said that, you could tell he felt guilty for not being there to help when he was needed.

You buried Arthur together. Hands shaking with every pile of dirt removed from the ground, tears reflecting off your skin as you placed him in his grave. The two of you stood on top of the mountain for a while, unwilling to leave Arthur alone.

After a while, you felt Charles take your hand. You looked up at him, and he nodded, pulling you away.

You and Charles weren't close before. He joined the gang less than a year before the fall, where you had been a member since John had joined.

Charles was always kind to you. He was soft spoken when talking to you, his hands were respectful when he helped you off a wagon, and he sat silently beside you around the campfire, a calming presence. He was a friend, someone you could rely on, but only one of many.

Now, as if overnight, you were all each other had. And The two of you certainly made an unusual pair.

You travelled side by side across the plains. He atop his large steed, you driving your trusty wagon. The quiet roads between towns were only disturbed by your incessant talking. You never liked silence, and would often find yourself chattering away to an audience of one.

Charles would rarely contribute. He would hum in agreement if you asked for his opinion, or huff out an amused laugh at your retelling of an old camp incident. The most you would get out of him was when you would ask him a question about the surrounding nature, or about the type of bird that landed on your bench. You enjoyed the days where he would tell you about his culture.

Sometimes you wonder if you annoy him. He was a man of few words, while you were always known for your silver tongue and lively personality.

Whilst you had been a part of the gang for years, you were never there for your fighting abilities. You knew how to shoot, sure, but your skills were limited. You were a natural born sweet talker, and a personable aura that got people to trust you. Dutch often had you working as a distraction, or out gathering information. But you liked to think that your main job was being the voice of reason, or a friend to everyone in camp,

But while you could sell milk to a cow, you couldn’t defend yourself against a real threat. The others would protect you in danger, and now that Charles was your only companion, he was always your saviour. He would defend you from the occasional coyote, he would hunt food to keep you from going hungry, he would be by your side if a stranger got too comfortable with you.

Charles had become everything to you, but you were scared that in the days where he would be silent, he was regretting taking you with him. You weren't much use save for your chatter, which Charles clearly had no use for.

You sometimes fear you’re a burden.

Today, as the sun had started to set, you were glad to see a town on the horizon. A town meant you could get a drink somewhere, maybe a hot meal that Charles’ wouldn't have to catch for you, and a room with a bed.

You were also thankful that Charles would get a break from you.

It was a self deprecating thought, you know, but you hoped that if Charles had a night away from you, it would make it easier being on the road again with you the next day.

You look over at the man in question, noting the deep furrow in his brow, and his tight grip on the reins. He was tense, and you shrank in your seat worrying if you are the reason.

The two of you hitch your horses outside of a run down saloon. You begin climbing down from your wagon, accepting the hand Charles offers.

“Thank you.” You smile, and he nods.

The two of you walk into the saloon. It’s dim,and smells strongly of liquor and sweat, but you cannot help but feel giddy at the sight of food being served from the bar.

“I'll apologise in advance, I don’t think I’ll be too ladylike when I get a meal.” You laugh, looking up at Charles as you make your way across the floor, “I could eat a horse right now.”

“Don’t tell me you’re bored of what I get us already.” Charles huffs, an amused smile playing on his lips.

You smile even brighter at his jest. You take a seat at the bar, warily putting your hands on the sticky bar. Charles hovers beside you, surveying the saloon with focused eyes even in the low light.

The bartender wipes a rag over a glass, raising an eyebrow at the odd pair of you, “What can I get you?”

You order food and a shot of whiskey for yourself. Charles declines a drink, eyeing the bartender warily as the other man stares at him for too long. You place a couple of notes on the bar before Charles touches your shoulder.

“There’s a hotel across the street, I’ll go and get us a couple of rooms.”

“You don’t want to eat here?” You ask, confused.

He shakes his head, “I'll figure something out. Don’t feel like staying here too long.”

You nod with a sad expression. This is one of the worse areas, plenty of white patrons glaring at Charles. It makes you sick, judgement against one of the best men you know simply for the colour of his skin. You understand why he wants to leave, and touch his arm gently in reassurance.

He looks down at you with an unreadable expression, before nodding and turning to leave.

The bartender leaves you your meal, and you try to eat without feeling down about being alone. You enjoy Charles’ company, and you always feel safe when he’s around. You down your shot, feeling a prickling sensation at the nape of your neck.

The feeling of being watched.

Turning your head, you make eye contact with a man. He’s tall and gangly, face red with sun burns. He smiles hungrily at you, dry lipped and yellow stained teeth. You shudder, turning back around and trying to make yourself even smaller.

A presence appeared at your side, and you hoped that Charles had changed his mind and come back. But no, as you turn, you come face to face with the unnerving man from before.

He licks his teeth, looking you up and down with a predatory grin, “Never seen you around these parts, girly. Where’ve you come from?”

Disgust crawls up your spine.

You lean away from him, grimacing.

“Aw, where do you think you’re going, kitty? Come play with me.” The man reaches out, his fingers brushing against the bare skin on your shoulder, before his hand is snatched away.

You gasp as Charles comes into view. He towers over the other man, who’s face drops when he looks up at your rageful friend.

“Get your hands off of her!” Charles shoves the man back, sending him crumbling and cursing.

You gasp as Charles takes your hand, leading you firmly but gently out of the saloon. Patrons stare as you leave, whispering amongst themselves at the chaos.

You’re led across the street, Charles’ hand in yours the only warmth protecting you from the chill of the night. He walks briskly, a sneer on his lips. You hold onto him tighter, letting him lead you into the hotel and up the stairs.

He takes you to one of the rooms, unlocking it and gently pulling you in. Once the door is closed, he deflates slightly, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten so angry.” Charles says softly.

You shake your head, “You've got nothing to apologise for. You saved me again.”

He smiles sadly, shrugging as he makes eye contact with you, “It's been a long day.”

You look down at your joined hands, surprised to see him still holding it. He lets you go, almost hesitantly, before taking a step away from you.

“You should get some rest. We’ll go at sunrise, get away from this town.” Charles growls the last word, eyes flashing as he remembers the man from the saloon.

Nodding, you clasp your own hands together. He turns to leave.

“Goodnight Charles.”

“Goodnight, dove.” He says gently, the nickname he sometimes uses for you making you smile.

The door closes behind him, leaving you alone and rubbing at the hand he held, missing the warmth he provided.

The next morning, you meet Charles outside the hotel. He feeds both of your horses apples, talking quietly to them with an easy smile on his face.

You join his side, exchanging greetings before heading off.

The journey starts normally, you retell a story of when Arthur and you stumbled upon an O'driscoll hide out and had to hide in a couple of fox holes. Arthur got stuck and you had to dig him out while a mother fox almost bit his nose off.

Halfway through the story, you notice Charles looking tired and weary, and anxiety creeps up on you again, worried you’re annoying him again.

A fork in the road separates the path in two directions. You pull your horse to a stop, a sigh deflating you.

Charles halts as well, looking over at you.

“Charles… look, maybe we should..” You start, voice trembling. You can’t look at him keeping your eyes low as you try to sift through your thoughts.

He says your name softly, walking his horse closer to our wagon.

“Maybe we should go our separate ways.” You choke out, “I… I can’t stand making you feel miserable. I know you feel an obligation to me, us being the last two left, but you shouldn't feel the need to stick around. I want you to be happy, Charles.”

You sit in silence. Your eyes remain on the dirt ground, a tear falling down onto your skirt.

Charles sighs, murmuring your name again, urging you to look at him again.

“You don’t make me miserable.”

Looking up, you lock eyes with him. He looks ashamed, guilty for making you feel this way.

“Im sorry if I seem miserable. But I’m not. I like listening to you talk. You make my days happier.” He shrugs, looking away and off into the distance, “So. I don’t think we should go our separate ways. I'll be too bored.”

With that, he clicks his tongue, spurring his horse forwards.

“Now, what happened when the fox found Arthur in her home?” He asks you.

You watch him for a moment, feeling happiness rise in your chest again.

After that conversation, things became infinitely better with Charles.

Knowing that you didn’t annoy him and that he enjoyed your talkativeness made you embrace your own personality around him. Your days were filled with easy conversation, enjoying the scenery surrounding you both.

Charles made more of an effort to engage with you, but you often reminded him that he didn’t need to change himself for you, you liked him just the way he was.

You loved him just the way he was.

You didn't tell him that. You realised it while the both of you were taking a break from travelling.

A deer calf had gotten trapped on the edge of an embankment,it’s mother panicked and erratic. Charles climbed down and rescued the baby deer, moving swiftly but gently.

He managed to renite the family without causing any more stress, taking his leave as the mother cleans her young.

As Charles mounted his horse, a buck approached the doe and calf, checking over the baby and mother. The small family looked to you and Charles, before retreating back into the woods. The buck lingered, before it followed his family.

He wondered aloud about the buck, explaining to you reincarnation and how he believed that maybe the buck was Arthur, and the doe and calf, the family he lost. He shrugged off your skepticism, stating that he just hoped Arthur would find happiness in another life.

You realised you were in love with Charles Smith in that moment.

The two of you had set up camp in a small clearing, a winding river surrounding you and giving you somewhere to fish.

You got you both dinner, and helped Charles start a fire.

Once dinner was eaten and the sun had set, you sat back and watched him as he stoked the fire. The flames lit his face stunningly, his strong brow and full lips casting moving shadows, his dark eyes tired but focused on the task at hand.

You reach into your satchel, looking for your journal to do a quick sketch of him. Your fingers brush against something glass, and you almost exclaim in glee when you pull out a bottle of whiskey you bought a few weeks back. It's unopened, the opportunity to pour a glass never appearing.

Tonight would have to do.

You unscrew the lit, nose wrinkling slightly at the harsh odour immediately released. Taking a quick swig, you wince at the burn, but grin at the warm feeling it immediately provides.

Charles looks up, and you wave him over.

“Come on, come drink with me.” You smile, shaking the bottle gently.

He raises his eyebrows, looking between you and

“I don’t think so.” He chuckles, grabbing his knife and a block of wood to whittle.

You sigh, frowning.

“I don’t understand you sometimes, Charles Smith.” You say, exaggerating your disappointment to guilt him to join you, “We’re safe here. You can relax for a night.”

Charles huffs through his nose, glaring at you half-heartedly “And if tonight is the night we finally get attacked by a pack of hungry wolves?"

“Then I will defend us.” You say with faux stoicism.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.” You giggle, grabbing both of your tin cups.

He laughs, eyes crinkling with a large smile, “Fine. One drink.”

One drink turned into two, which turned into three, and… you lost count at six. The two of you were lay on the grass a few feet from the fire, laughing at a story you were telling about when Sean tried to do a heist alone and somehow ended up getting chased all the way back to camp by a pack of hungry dogs. Your side hurt from laughing, and Charles’ own laugh echoed around you.

While you sighed and stretched, you could feel Charles’ eyes on you. He's silent for a moment, and you open your mouth to ask him what's wrong, before he speaks.

“I’m in love with you.” He murmurs.

You giggle, turning to look at him. He’s already watching you, his normally serious face relaxed with the effects of the alcohol.

“Really?” You ask, turning over fully to lie on your side.

Charles turns too, nodding. He reaches out, tucking a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. He watches your face, his eyes travelling over your features before landing on your lips.

“Could you love me?” He whispers.

You smile, “I already do.”

Who moved first is anyone's guess, but it doesn't matter as is hips meet yours. They’re warm and firm, and better than you dreamed.

You sigh against him, and Charles deepens the kiss, your tongues meeting in a pleasant battle.

He rolls on top of you, settling between your thighs and dragging his hands over your body. Charles is careful with his touches, feeling your skin with reverence and affection.

You wrap your arms around his neck, winding your fingers in the thick hair cascading from his scalp and fanning around both of your faces. He groans appreciatively as you tug on his strands, his hips pressing flush against yours.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, feeling his large, solid member pressing against you. Charles grunts, kissing along your neck while he shallowly thrusts against you, seeking pleasure only your body can provide.

“Charles…” You moan, spreading your legs further and gripping onto him harder.

“Fuck, love.” Charles sits up on his haunches, admiring the sight you make. His eyes roam over you, his pupils dilated and lips swollen from your kisses.

His thumb rub soothing circles on your hips, his eyes locking on yours once more.

“Do you want this?”

“More than anything.”

A deep rumble emerges from his chest as his hands fly to your shirt, unbuttoning it before growing impatient and tearing it in half. You gasp, then whine as his hands drift to your breasts, caressing your flesh lovingly before pulling your chemise down to expose the skin to his eyes. His lips descend upon them, nipping and sucking marks and taking your nipples into his mouth.

Writhing beneath him, your hand return to his head, dragging your nails across his scalp and gripping his hair when he sucks on your sensitive skin.

His mouth travels lower, tugging your chemise down along with your skirt and bloomers, leaving you naked beneath the moon. Charles inhales sharply as he admires you, groaning as he kisses every inch of skin accessible.

With a swift motion, he pulls your thighs over his shoulders, looking up at you for permission. You nod and whine down at him, “Please, Charles-”

He needs no further invitation, plunging his face into your cunt. Gasping, your neck arches as he latches onto your clit, rolling his tongue and teeth over it thoroughly. Stars appear behind your clenched eyes as Charles worships your pussy, devouring you like a man starved.

One of your hands grips his hair, while the other claws at the dirt below, feeling your orgasm approaching embarrassingly close. Charles alternates between plunging his tongue into your slick hole and sucking your clit into his mouth, making you pulse and writhe against his mouth. He groans against you, his own eyes rolled back in enjoyment.

As you reach the precipice, your hand clenches in his hair, sharp enough to possibly hurt, but he doesn't cease his task. He knows you’re close, and puts pressure back on your clit, his teeth dragging across it.

You cum with a cry of his name, back arching and cunt leaking like a faucet. Charles kisses your cunt as you come down, murmuring praises against your thighs.

“Are you alright, my dove?” He asks, crawling back on top of you and cupping your face, eyes looking over you with love and pride.

You nod, a tired smile on your face. “Mhm.” You reach down, cupping his bulge and causing him to groan, “Want you.”

“Think you can handle me?” He's not cocky with his question; you can tell he is sizable against your palm, big enough to rip you apart if he's not careful. But you trust him, and need him in this moment.

“I can. Made for you.” You smile, kissing him again softly and unhurried.

Charles groans, sitting up to pull off his shirt. Your hands wander over his firm chest. His skin is warm, muscles rippling with his haste to get undressed. He's littered with scars, and you admire them, caressing your fingers over them. He can see the love in your eyes, and it makes him swell with happiness.

He shoves his trousers down, tossing them away to land with the rest of your discarded clothes. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock. It’s above average in length, but as thick as your wrist and curving upwards. The tip is an angry red and leaking, eager to fill you up.

“I’ll be gentle.” Charles says, noticing your awed expression, “I'd never hurt you, my love.”

“I know.” You smile, taking his face in your hands to pull him down for another kiss. It's slow and meaningful, as he leans back over you with your thighs around his waist.

You can feel him nudge against your entrance, rubbing against your clit as he gets comfortable. One of his arms holds him up beside your head, while the other reaches down to grasp himself in hand.

The both of you look down as he lines himself up, twin groans escaping you as he pushes the tip in. You’re wet enough for him to slip inside easily, inches disappearing inside you agonisingly slow. It’s a tight fit, and your hand grips onto his forearm beside you at the fullness.

Charles curses as he bottoms out, his other man grasping yours as he takes a second to bask in the feeling. You watch his eyes roll shut, his chest heaving. Leaning forward, you kiss his jaw, nudging at his flushed skin.

He presses his face into your neck, pulling out only to fuck back into you, pleasure shooting through your whole body. You grasp onto him, moaning out as he repeats his shallow but hard thrusts.

The alcohol mixed with your joint yearning brings you both to the edge quickly, your knees against Charles’ chest as he moves faster and faster, the wet sounds of your coupling with your gasps and his grunts.

“Fuck, feels so good…” Charles grunts against your shoulder, speeding up his thrusts as he chases his climax.

The cord inside you winds unbearably tight, your own end getting closer with every time his tip bullies your g-spot. His hand leaves yours to disappear between you, pressing rapid circles against your clit.

“Need- need you to cum with me, my love… please, please cum with me.”

You cry out, locking your legs around him as you shake beneath him, your cunt squeezing him tighter. A harsh thrust has you falling over the edge, biting down on his shoulder as your vision blurs and you ride wave after wave of euphoria.

Charles groans, hips suffering, “God- where, my love?”

“Inside. Please, Charles, inside me.” You mewl.

Barely a second later, Charles shoves himself fully inside you, grunting out your name as he empties himself within you. He collapses against you, being wary of his size and not lying on you too long, falling to his side beside you.

Exhausted and sated, you lie boneless and ready to sleep. With your eyes closed, you can hear Charles move around, and can feel him pull a blanket over you both. He pulls you to his chest, kissing your hair.

You fall asleep as he murmurs how much he loves you.

The sun rises on a new day, and you lie awake nestled in Charles’ arms.

His face is peaceful, mouth set in a small smile. You wish you could capture the image and keep it with you forever, never wanting to forget how beautiful he is now he's yours.

The hard ground presses into your hip, and you squirm slightly to get more comfortable. Charles huffs, eyes fluttering awake to see why you were moving out of the cocoon of his arms.

“Morning.” You whisper, brushing you hand over his cheek.

He smiles as his eyes focus on you, turning his head to kiss you palm, “Morning.”

“Any regrets?” You ask, though you know the answer.

“None. You?”

“Only that we didn't do that in a bed.” You joke, grimacing at the hard ground below you.

Charles chuckles sleepily, pulling you over and on top of him. His body is infinitely more comfortable, and you sigh contentedly.

“We’ll have a bed. In our own home, one I’ll make for us.” He murmurs, kissing your head

You drift off again, warm and safe, wrapped in Charles’ arms as he softly talks about the life you will have.

Both of you can't wait for the future.

AN/ Like I said, I went crazy. I really hope you liked it!! Mwah x

[backmuscles21]

Finally Found You

Tonowari x Reader x Ronal

Summary: Jake and Tonowari find your body washed up on the shore, it's a forest Na'vi's body. Once Jake sees your face, he remembers you and it scares him. You were blue but you never had a Na'vi body. Ronal nurses you back to health and Tonowari shows you around. You told Jake about all of Ardmore's plans and what had happened, only you didn't know how you ended up on the Metkayina shore beaten to a pulp. Tonowari and Ronal end up falling for you, and once you mate with them, you'll do anything to protect your family, even kill again.

Warnings: smut, canon typical violence, self-esteem issues, bisexual reader, mating rituals, hurt/comfort

The last thing you remembered was dark, it was pitch black. You feel like maybe there were waves, maybe you heard waves, but maybe it was just your mind making things up in the coldness of dark and lonely silence.

Jake and Tonowari were going over some of the plans that the warriors and hunters would be going over, they were deep in conversation when they heard kids screaming. Jake and Tonowari turned around to see mothers holding onto their kids, they both walked closer to the shore.

It was a forest Na’vi body, the body was female and completely naked, it also looked pretty bruised up from the sight of it. Tonowari and Jake pulled the body from the water and covered it in a blanket. When they flipped you onto your back, Jake was shocked, he knew you. He stumbled back, he quite literally saw the face of a ghost.

“Are you okay?” Tonowari asked Jake seeing the look on his face.

Jake nodded; he couldn’t form words. You were there when home tree went down, you and Trudy were in her helicopter. You left after they did; you gave them word Quaritch was coming and stayed to help. You and Trudy died when her helicopter went down. You were Marines and a Na’vi sympathizer, but you never had an avatar. He didn’t understand, he didn’t know what to think.

“Jake?” Tonowari asked again, “are you sure you’re alright?”

“I knew her, the face. I knew her as a sky person. When she was also a sky person. It doesn’t make sense. She died; I saw her die. She was always on the outside but she was never blue. I don’t know what happened.”

Tonowari squatted down by your face, despite all the bruising, you were quite pretty. That’s when he felt it, your warm breath on his cheek. It was barely there but he stood up and looked at Jake.

“She’s still alive, I felt her breathe. There her chest is rising and falling ever so slightly. Help me take her to the Tshaik’s tent.”

Tonowari and Jake took you to the Tshaik’s tent and Ronal looked at what was wrong.

“We will leave her here to rest and recover. I don’t know what happened to her but it looks like she was beaten within an inch of her life. Her body will take time to recover. She’ll be lucky to wake up in the next few days,” Ronal said.

However, in the next few days, you woke up.

Ronal was mixing some herbs, you sat up and took the deepest breath Ronal has ever heard, like your lungs had never known what oxygen was. You looked around, your eyes widened when you saw Ronal.

“What happened?” You asked quietly after staring for a moment.

Ronal came over to you, “you look better now that you’re awake. I will get the boys.”

“Who?” you questioned as she left.

Moments later, Tonowari and Jake followed through the opening with Ronal.

“Y/N,” Jake said.

“Jake?” You sat up more and hugged him. “Jake, what’s going on?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Last I saw you; you went down in Trudy’s burning helicopter.”

“I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“There was this project, Project Phoenix, I signed up for it back when we were at Hell’s Gate, long before home tree went down. They selected certain marines to get brain scans and then we’d use them to learn and fight fire with fire. A couple of months ago, I woke up with the memories of y/n. I’ve always loved the people but you made me fall in love with the Na’vi even more. I forgot all about the project and they didn’t remember about me switching sides, clearly. I did but only some of it, obviously, I didn’t know how I died or if I did at all. General Ardmore is who we’d answer to, me, Quaritch, Wainfleet, Zdog, Walker, Fike, Ja, Prager, Warren, Mansk, Zhang, and Brown. We were to go boots on the ground in the rainforest and look for you, we went out like twice. We never found you. last thing I remember was heading back to the base, a helicopter was coming for us and then it was lights out.”

“Well, they did. Or they found some of my kids at least. That's why I'm here. However, they beat you pretty badly I think and stripped you and threw you in the ocean. Probably thought they killed you.”

“I think I wish they did,” you looked up at Jake, tears starting to well up in your eyes.

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m an abomination. I died; I don’t get second chances. I’m on the bad guy’s side. Jake – I don’t want this. They brought us all back to do their bidding. I’m not a lap dog, I’m not kissing ass again,” you felt the tears roll down your cheeks.

“You’re with us now. You don’t have to go back. You can be a warrior with us now.”

“I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t wanna live like this. I don’t want to fight again. I was bred to fight and if I’m using this second chance, I’m not killing again.”

“There are many jobs here that you could do. You don’t have to waste this chance.”

Tonowari looked at you and smiled, “you are welcome to stay. We could always use the help.”

“Thank you. And thank you for saving me,” you looked at Tonowari and smiled as another tear fell down your cheek.

“You’re welcome. I can show you to your mauri.”

You nodded, you stood up and saw you were in traditional Metkayina garb. You walked with him along the bouncy path, you looked around as you walked. This place was like you’ve never seen, it was gorgeous and the water was so blue.

“I think you’ll fit in nicely here. I’ll show you around tomorrow and I’ll introduce you to a couple of ladies and you can pick a job. There are a few in mind.”

“Thank you for everything. I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“You do, you’ve done a lot for Jake and soon for us.”

“I didn’t do a lot. I helped when the war happened but not initially.”

“You were following orders.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

Tonowari stopped in front of you, his hands on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes, “you’re doing the right thing now. That’s all that matters. You died for our cause; you saved many forest Na’vi.”

“I would’ve died either way. Not to mention I killed. I have memories of shooting up a school. Not that I enjoyed it or liked it, but I still did it.”

“That doesn’t matter now, that’s in the past. You’ve lived that life and now you have a new one and you can choose what you want to do with it.”

“Tonowari, what if I can’t? What if I’m only ever good for following orders and killing?”

His hands moved to your cheeks; he wiped the tears falling down your cheeks. “You will do your best and if something happens or you can’t handle it, you let me know. We can work on it. It won’t be easy but it will be possible and as your new olo’eyktan I want you to succeed.”

You leaned into him to hug him; he was probably the most loving person you ever met. You grew up as a military brat, you were never shown supportive love like this. You never knew love like this and you wanted to reach out and grab it and never let it go. You held onto him; your arms wrapped around his neck as you nuzzled into his neck. He hugged you just as tightly, he could see how hurt you were.

“I don’t quit, never have never will.”

“I think you’ll find other things you are good at.”

“Like what?”

“Weaving perhaps, healing, or maybe fishing, possibly you could be a hunter. You could provide for the people.”

“I will give it a try.”

After a long night's rest, you met a few people that morning, Tonowari took you by each person to meet them and try the jobs out.

As you figured, you sucked at weaving and cooking and healing and fishing. You would get frustrated easily, anything fitness-wise came easy to you as usually were always strong and fast. That’s why, when you went hunting with Tonowari, you kicked ass and had fun.

That’s when you started to admire Tonowari’s smile.

You knew he was mated with the tshaik but that didn’t stop you from staring and dreaming. Normally, you wouldn’t go for guys, you were bisexual, but you preferred women. At least most human women could actually make you cum, hence why you dated Trudy.

You spent a lot of time around Tonowari since you developed a small crush on him, which is how you started to crush on his mate more. You were over with him and his mate a lot, and you couldn’t help but to fall in love with them both, they both had such beautiful bodies and faces and personalities. You felt like every time you were flirting with them but they never seemed to reciprocate.

Ronal was even more loving than Tonowari and you were addicted to it, you wanted to be around her all the time. Ronal was always there to clean your cuts and ensure you were healing properly from all the bruising. You liked that she was so doting and caring, she was so special to you as was Tonowari.

Weeks later, you were with Jake’s kids, you were making jewelry with Kiri, Tuk and Tsireya. You found yourself having a lot of shell jewelry already thanks to Tuk, so you found yourself making a necklace for Ronal. You just wanted to do something nice for her since she helped you so much. Of course, you did make a bracelet for Tuk which she adored.

You were going over there for dinner and that was the perfect time to give her the necklace you made her. When you got there, you gave it to her with a large smile on your face. At first, she looked taken aback but then she smiled and set it down to hug you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I thought it was the perfect gift to say thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Of course, you didn’t know about mating rituals.

Ronal and Tonowari talked after you left and they were ready to give you a courting gift and hopefully have you mate with them.

You were over with Ronal and Tonowari again, it was the place to go to try and find you. As you were chatting with Tonowari about a recent hunt Ronal came over with a small box in hand. You looked at her, she smiled as she sat down in front of you and Tonowari, and you smiled along with her.

“I have this for you.”

“For me?”

Ronal handed you the box, as she opened it, your face lit up. It was a very traditional armband that Metkayina wore. Your face lit up and you smiled widely as you took it from her hands.

“It’s gorgeous Ronal, thank you. Both of you. It’s amazing. I love it a lot.”

“Ronal made it, it was my idea to make the armband though.”

“Well, you both did amazing.”

“So, you accept?” Ronal asked with a wide smile.

“Of course, I accept,” only you didn’t really know what you were accepting.

Tonowari’s hand held your jaw as he moved your face from looking straight ahead at Ronal to look at him. He looked into your wide eyes and his hand moved to your jaw as he kissed you. When he pulled back, you looked shocked, you never expected that. Once your brain reconnected, you moved in to kiss him. Your hands went to his neck and you went in for the kill, you have been wanting this.

You were kissing him quite passionately, although you didn’t realize you accepted their courting gift, you absolutely wanted this. Once you moved back, you smiled, you smiled at both of them.

“So, you will mate with us?” Ronal asked.

“A million times yes. I have only dreamed about this since you guys saved me.”

You moved in to hug Ronal, when you pulled away you stared at her.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, unsure if she wanted that or accepted that.

She kissed you; you crawled closer to her while your lips remained locked. Your arms went around her neck as you were practically on top of her, that’s when you felt a hand on your back. It went up your back and had you turn your head to Tonowari, who then started to kiss you again. You felt Ronal’s hands fall to your waist and drag down to your hips, her hands slid back up your body to your chest covering.

She reached behind your neck and untied it slowly to allow you to stop her, but that never came. She pulled your chest covering off and her hands gravitated to your tits which she held so nicely. Your body was writhing as she played with your nipples, and you moaned into Tonowari’s mouth. Your back arched and you pressed your lips into Tonowari more. Tonowari’s hands gripped your rib cage and squeezed his way down to your hips before moving between your legs. His fingers worked their way under your loincloth, your lips detached and your head rested on Tonowari’s shoulder.

The couple worked on you, as you moaned out loudly. You raised your hand and covered your mouth to try and keep the sounds to a minimum. Tonowari’s hand quickly followed yours and pulled your hand off your face.

“The noise doesn’t matter. Anyone nearby can smell it already. They know what’s happening,” Tonowari said.

“So, you just want everyone to know how well you’re pleasing me.”

“Obviously,” Tonowari said as he removed his fingers and started to untie your loin cloth.

You whimpered but then Tonowari removed your loin cloth fully and Ronal took her hands off your chest. He grabbed your hips and lied you on your stomach, he lifted your hips up enough to give himself some decent leverage.

“I’m going to fuck you and why don’t you eat out your darling mate Ronal,” Tonowari said as he slowly sunk into you.

You grabbed Ronal’s bare thighs and pulled her close to you, you immediately started to eat her out as Tonowari fucked you. Cumming from being fucking mercilessly by Tonowari was one of life’s greatest achievements and to top that off, your face was pressed further and further into one of the prettiest women you’ve ever seen. Making her cum was second to being fucked by Tonowari, it was immaculate to even taste her.

Your life from then on revolved around those two and your newfound adopted kids, Ao’nung, Tsireya, and the current unborn child Ronal was carrying. You were with them every step of the way, from holding Ronal all night after her spirit sister was killed to watching the kids leave to save Jake’s youngest son tulkan friend.

The sky people came to attack and you had no choice but to become a warrior. You were ready to fight for these people, you didn’t care what you wanted.

“I’m going out there, you can’t stop me.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Tonowari asked.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, our kids are out there.”

“You didn’t want to be a warrior or a killer.”

“I don’t have a choice. They took what is the most special to me, my family. I’ll kill for that.”

Tonowari let go of your arm and let you onto your skimwing and raced off to save the kids.

Once Jake went out to talk to Quaritch, you were looking at both your mates as Jake went to save your daughter and his two kids.

Then all hell broke loose and you did exactly what 10 years of intense military training taught you to do, kill.

You swam in fast; you were killing left and right, pushing through many bodies of so many different soldiers. You were blind, you remember this feeling, all you see is red and you’re mindlessly killing. This time it wasn’t orders though, this time you were fighting for your home and for your family. This time it was like a big middle finger to Quaritch for all the shit he’s ever done to you in the time you’ve known him on Pandora.

Watching Jake’s eldest cut loose his siblings and your daughter, you had Tsireya and you were trying to get Lo’ak and Neteyam to come with you once Tuk went with her mom. You had a choice to make, take your daughter to safety or help the boys go get their friend. You were blinded with rage still and Tsireya called an ilu and went back to her parents while you hopped aboard the ship. You followed the boys into the ship, you grabbed a gun and you shot at the few soldiers still straggling around.

The boys saw you following them, you went further into the ship together once they got Spider back. You shot at more soldiers, before getting into the water. It was shortly after you were confronted with Quaritch.

“I see you lived.”

“What would you know about that?”

Quaritch smirked as he held Kiri.

“What did you do to me?”

“You lied.”

“About what?”

“You were never on our side, even before you signed up for Deja Blue.”

“That’s true, but I didn’t defy until before home tree went down.”

“Still, you should have never been on our team. That’s why we had to take matters into our own hands.”

“By beating me and dumping me in a river.”

“You were supposed to die.”

“I wish I did. But at least I get to have some well-deserved revenge.”

Once the ship started to sink, you got out and went back to shore. You couldn’t fight Quaritch anymore and Jake had it covered anyways.

Your skimwing brought you to the shore and you saw your mates standing there, they did not look pleased. You couldn’t be happier about having to travel through water to get back to the shore, all the blood was washed off you, at least the blood that wasn’t yours.

“Where the hell have you been? Tsireya came home by herself.”

Tonowari was yelling at you, he was using his chieftain voice. You’ll be damned if it didn’t both scared you and turn you on, but you knew this was not a light circumstance. You stared at your mates, you felt nervous and you felt remorseful.

“I’m sorry. I went to help Jake’s kids. I think I just was seeing red and I didn’t want to stop.”

“You left your daughter alone,” Ronal said as she walked up to you.

“I’m sorry, I really am. This is why I didn’t want to start killing but I didn’t care anymore. They had our daughter and I just had to. I shouldn’t have left her, I knew that. But I did see one of the people I got brought back with. He told me what happened.”

“What did you learn, syulang,” Tonowari said as he pulled you into a hug.

“They knew about me being a traitor so they tried to kill me and get rid of me. I wanted revenge. I know it was selfish but still.”

“It’s okay. Just make sure you apologize to Tsireya.”

“I love you guys more than anything.”

“Let’s go get you cleaned up. You have a couple of cuts,” Ronal said as she started to bring you back to your home.

refuse to write Neteyam’s death so I just left it out.

[meiluu]

Sleepy

Leon S. Kennedy NSFW one-shot

Leon S. Kennedy / Reader(AFAB) cw: soft morning SMUT 18+ MDNI, re:2 leon, no RC event.

*not edited

Quietly closing the door behind him, Leon breathes a sigh of relief. It was another late night patrol with the R.P.D, even though Leon was exhausted he would never grow tired of his job. Since he was orphaned at a young age he dreamed about becoming someone who could protect those who couldn't protect themselves, and he was able to do that with his job. Although he had only joined the force a year ago he has made his impact not only that but has made many friends along the way. And that included you.

Leon was still within his first week when he met you, cliché enough you both had bumped into one another. Leon had stupidly not been paying attention and had spilt his morning coffee all over you. And thankfully you hadn't beaten him for ruining what looked like a beautiful sun-dress. But Leon just couldn't let you walk away without repaying you, so that's when he had offered to get lunch sometime and by a miracle you accepted. And from there a relationship blossomed. You had become a rock, a pillar of reliability and comfort, something Leon had never had within his life. And now a year later your relationship has bloomed into a beautiful garden.

Gently taking off his boots, setting them aside next to your shoes he makes his way into the living room as he lays down his bag along with his belt and the rest of his gear. Then he's making his way to your shared bedroom. Leon's heart swells at the sight of you bundled up in the thick comforter, face snuggled into his pillow. A soft smile painting his face, stealthily Leon showers and readies himself for bed- happy that he's off for tomorrow and can sleep in with you. Reaching the bed, he pulls up the comforter cuddling himself around you. A sleepy sound leaves your lips, "Leon?" voice thick with sleep you turn towards his chest. "Hi baby, go back to sleep." whispering to you as he pulls you closer to him, relishing in your warmth. A soft 'I love you' is mumbled into his chest before you fall back asleep, "I love you too." placing a kiss atop your head Leon buries himself in your scent and is soon pulled under into a dreamless sleep.

The morning rays of the sun stream into the bedroom, a groan leaves Leon at being awakened. Turning away from the window he snuggles himself further into your chest. But before he can fall back asleep your voice is ringing through his mind. "Good morning grumpy." Leon lets out a grunt at your teasing, a soft laugh bubbles up from your chest at his antics. Hoping to better his mood you begin to place kisses upon his face. Starting at his messy bed head you trail your way down his face, past his furrowed brows, placing a light kiss atop his nose as you continue downwards not so subtly avoiding his pink lips that are just begging to be kissed. Voice a bit husky with sleep calls out your name, "Don't tease- it's too early." With a cheeky smile you continue your teasing, now your kisses have past his sharp jawline and are now mapping out the delicate skin of his neck. A familiar sound of pleasure tumbles from Leon's lips and not a moment later are you rolled onto your back, hands pinned beside your head. Leon has a smug smile painted upon his face, "You should know better baby, if you're not careful we’ll be in bed all day." A mischievous smile tugs at your cheeks, raising a brow "would that be such a bad thing?" Leon's lovely laugh fills the air around you both, and you can't help the genuine smile that takes up your face. Leaning down Leon finally gets what he has been deprived of, the feel of your lips against his has him shutting his eyes in relief.

It starts off slow and measured, Leon removes his hands from your wrists as he begins to caress your curves as he travels down to the hem of your-his- shirt. his warm and slightly calloused hands mapping out every inch of you. Mouths locked in a dance, taking the lead you nip at his plump bottom lip, and Leon gives into your request allowing your tongues to meet one another. Your hands are quick to crawl up his bare shoulders rising to his blond locks, carding your fingers through the soft strands. Taking your dance further, Leon's moving his lips down to your neck placing open mouth kisses upon your skin- relishing in your natural scent that does nothing to curb his want for you. With his mouth littering kisses his hands are massaging the swells of your breasts, your whimpers of pleasure reaches Leon's ears. Reaching the collar of your- his-shirt he takes a moment to look up at you, giving you the opportunity to stop this if you didn't want to go further. And Leon is met with your lust filled gaze, "Please, Leon." and that's all it takes for Leon to quickly remove the offending fabric from you body, finally Leon can now continue where he left off.

Mouth marking your skin, creating a beautiful constellation of hickeys across your skin. Then he's pulling the hard bud of your right breast into his warm mouth. Tongue swirling around the bud, a moan is quick to fall from your lips as your fingers tug on Leon's hair, eliciting a groan from him, mind and body buzzing with pleasure. After he's satisfied in his worship of your right breast he is moving onto the other breast- not wanting to leave it out of his loving devotion to your body. Giving it the same treatment as the other, with every swirl and flick of his tongue sending jolts of arousal to your core- no doubt dampening your panties. Once he finishes Leon is soon to move downwards, mouth lighting a fiery trail of pleasure down your stomach- past your navel, only stopping at the hem of your panties. His fingers are quick to remove the fabric just as fast as the shirt- eyes blown wide in a mix of lust and adoration his gaze locks with yours. Once again silently asking if he can continue, "Leon if you don't fuck me- I'll do it myself." voice filled with lust and frustration. "Yes ma'am." who was he to deny you? Whenever you asked-begged or made so much as an inkling that you wanted something Leon was quick to fill that, the same way you did for him. He was so in love you, and he planned on making sure you remembered that- always, even with the late night patrols or having to reschedule plans with his job he always made every moment with you count and this was no exception.

Raising his head level with yours, he's taking one of his hands dragging it down to your center. Fingers meeting your arousal, a throaty groan leaves Leon at the feeling, you were so wet for him. Slipping two fingers into you easily, your warm walls are quick to clamp down upon him. Pushing in until his fingers were completely within you, does he then finally start his movements. Deep but measured thrusts of his fingers in and out of your cunt has your whimpering in ecstasy. Taking his other hand, bringing it down to your bundle of nerves, putting just the right amount of pressure and swirling your clit underneath his fore and middle finger. Your moans are a beautiful melody that he'll never grow tired of listening to. Your cunt is soon to grip his fingers in a vice like grip, as you near your impending climax. "Fuck- cum on my fingers, please baby." Leon's voice is a needy whimper filled with lust and its sending you off that cliff straight into your orgasm. As your mind blanks with your orgasm, you are soon brought back down to earth as Leon's cooing words of encouragement and love begin to register within your mind.

"So good, that's it baby." Gently removing his fingers from your cunt he is bringing his wet digits up to mouth, letting himself taste the unmistakable flavor that is you. Leon is quick to remove his clothing- luckily it was only one piece of fabric, throwing his underwear to the side his cock now free. A sigh of relief falls from his pink lips, cock hard and aching to be within you. Precum has already smeared the tip of him no doubt leaving a wet patch upon his clothing- but Leon couldn't care less about that right now. Bringing his length to your core, taking a moment to grind his length into your arousal, wetting his cock. Though he is quick to push himself into you, taking steady breaths so that his doesn't cum too quickly. He lets his cock sink into you until he is flushed against you. Fuck, he will never get tired of this feeling- your inviting cunt hugging him, warm and wet just for him and only him.

Pulling his hips back, feeling his cock drag against your walls, stopping only when his tip is left within you does he then sink back into you. Deep and rhythmic thrusts, not slow but not fast either. Your arms are wrapping around his neck while your legs cage in his hips, encouraging him to go deeper- to go harder. A soft cry of his name has Leon's eyes leaving where they were watching himself disappear within you up to your eyes. Obeying your silent begging, Leon quickly brings his hands down your thighs raising your left thigh to rest against his chest- allowing him to reach deeper within you. His other hand gripping hard onto your right side, giving him the perfect leverage to fuck you into the bed. In and out, his harsh and deep thrusts has your head falling back into the pillow as your back arches up into Leon's chest. His mind-numbing sounds of pleasure has your cunt clenching down hard upon him- trying to keep him within you, never wanting him to leave. Taking his eyes away from the hypnotizing sight of your cunt taking all of him to the hilt every time he thrusts, rising to your face again he nearly cums at the sight before him. Your face is etched in pleasure, mouth open allowing for your sweet sounds to fall from your lips. And then you are throwing Leon right to the edge as you bring one of your hands down to swirl your clit as you near an earthshattering high. A curse accompanied with your name is cried out, as Leon feels your cunt rhythmically begin to quiver and squeeze around his cock. Leon's grip upon you tightens, undoubtedly leaving bruises for you to find later as he feels white hot pleasure roll down his back as his body tightens before he feels himself cuming within you. Pushing as far into you as possible grinding his length as he paints your inner walls with his cum.

Slowly his grinding comes to a stop as you both finish riding out your highs, he is gently setting your thigh down against the sheets. And just as Leon goes to remove his now softening cock to clean you both up- you are quick to latch onto him. "Stay- just a bit longer, please."

"Of course." leaving himself within you, his arms wrap around your torso. There he settles himself atop of you, placing feather-light kisses against your neck. "I love you." your lips are placing a kiss upon his temple, "I love you too Leon."

[justplainwhump]

Clinic

Against her will, Adrian brings Bea to a clinic - and is confronted by an old acquaintance.

Pet Safety Masterpost

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Content / warnings: BBU recovery, very short discussion of past noncon (using the r-word), fear of hospitals, a lot of undressed trauma. Lies, acts, double agents. Also, Adrian gets punched.

They stayed silent until the night had swallowed the lights of the facility behind them.

"I missed-" Adrian begun, instantly interrupting himself for saying something so trivial after what she'd been through.

Bea didn't seem to listen anyway.

"Jack is going to kill them."

Her voice was flat, void of any emotion, just stating a fact. Her gaze, however, was attentive, carefully studying Adrian's face in the shadows. As if his reaction was meant to guide her own.

Fuck. His hands wrapped around the steering wheel more firmly, and he realized too late that this, too, wouldn't escape Bea's attention.

"How do you know?" He was stalling. They both knew it.

"Because Jack likes punishment." She shrugged, gaze running over her broken fingers. "They disobeyed him. They obeyed you, instead. And you are his enemy."

Adrian carefully kept his face straight, fought back the hateful smirk that wanted to tug at his lips. He couldn't deny it had felt good to have the upper hand over the asshole, if only for some precious seconds.

"He's a bad guy."

Bea nodded carefully. "He is."

A long silence trailed behind her words.

"I recognized one of the Guards," Adrian said finally. "He was the one on top of you, when I found you. He raped you. You were within an inch of your life."

"I r-" She shivered, and instantly cast down her gaze, bit her lip apologetically. "I ... did that to you, too. But you do not think I should die."

"No, Bea. No." Adrian winced. "That's different. That was - You were -" Conditioned? You didn't know better? Not your fault? He faltered. "Fuck. I. I don't think he should die, either."

"Then why do you not go back to save them? Is that not what you do?" She frowned. "Do you only save Romantics, Adrian Delgado?"

There was no judgment in her tone, still. It would've been easier, if there was.

"No." He exhaled sharply. "No, I don't, Bea. But I can't save everyone. I need to be careful about who I save."

Bea tilted her head, and Adrian's fingers grabbed the wheel more firmly, bracing for the assessment that was about to come. You were not careful around Jack when it was about me.

She didn't say that.

"Who is Eric?"

The world went out of focus for a long moment.

A red light raced towards him. A horn blared. Angry shouts all around him.

Adrian slammed his foot onto the brake, hard enough for the car to stutter and die, right in front of crossing traffic. A pedestrian passing on the crossing banged their fist on the pick-up's hood and flipped him off.

Adrian couldn't react. Nothing felt real. Nothing made sense.

More horns went off.

The traffic light had turned green again and his car wasn't moving.

A warm hand wrapped around his. Smaller than Eric's. Paler. Stronger.

"Drive the car, Adrian," a soft voice said. "It's okay. Drive. We are safe."

Drive. Yeah. He could do that.

He turned the key in the ignition, felt the car come back alive under his feet. The light was still green. Carefully, he took up speed. Cold sweat covered his back.

"Someone I loved," he said, after some blocks, more to himself than to her. "Someone I failed. Someone I lost. Like I thought I'd -" He didn't finish.

Lost you.

Failed you.

Love you.

"I hurt you," Bea whispered. "I am sorry, Sir."

"No. Bea. Please. Don't be." He reached for her hand.

She cried out in pain, a soft, strangled whine. Didn't try to pull back though, he realized in horror, when he felt the hot, swollen tissue around her broken fingers under his own.

She'd had her fingers broken. Her ankle. She'd been beaten and electrocuted and most certainly been assaulted, all in the past 24 hours, and he was a hot mess just because she asked one question. Just because he'd said a dumb thing to her under stress.

He had to get his shit together.

Adrian pulled the car into a sharp turn. "The clinic isn't far."

"Master Adrian." He heard Bea suck in a sharp breath on the passenger seat. "Please, Sir. I can be good. I am still functional. I didn't mean to pull back. I am sorry. I can still serve you."

"You'll be safe there. It's a good clinic. Not like the ones you know."

Her hand - the burning hot one, the one with the broken fingers - wandered on his thigh. "Please, let me just go home with you."

"Don't do that ," he snapped. "Don't touch me. Don't hurt yourself."

"It was an act," she whispered, voice strained, as she pulled her injured hand back. "Was it not? In the white rooms. When you said you take me to a clinic? I... I don't want to go."

"No. You need help Bea. We need help. It was not an act."

I love you, Adrian Delgado, she'd said in the white rooms.

It was an act.

What did it matter?

"Do you trust me, Bea?"

She swallowed, before she bit her lip again and nodded. "Yes. Yes, Sir."

"Good. Then we go. I promise, you won't be hurt."

"No needles?" Her whisper was almost inaudible. "No drugs?"

Adrian clenched his teeth and didn't reply, as he drove onto the parking lot of a small, unassuming clinic on the city's outskirts.

They'd arrived.

--

'We don't treat pets', was a sentence he'd heard too often, trying to get medical aid for Bea. He'd known it would be different in this place; but he hadn't known just how similar the opposite would feel.

"We don't serve fucking WRU bastards," the nurse, a petite black haired woman hissed, flaming hatred in her dark eyes, as she blocked the clinic's entrance door. "Pets are people. Fuck off."

He figured the only reason she didn't spit into his face was Bea, held closely to his chest.

Fuck. He'd wrapped her into his jacket, not quite a uniform jacket, but still easy enough to spot WRU logo printed on its chest.

"I'm here for her," he said, jutting his chin at Bea. "Because I don't fucking think WRU-"

"Shut the fuck up, Adrian, or I'll break your nose a second time." A broad-shouldered, Black man in a doctor's coat appeared behind the nurse.

"You know this -?" The nurse stuttered, waving from Adrian to the doctor.

"Asshole is my brother-in-law. It's alright. I've got this." He jutted his chin towards Bea. "Set the girl down, Adrian. Diana, you look after her. What is it, dear? Obviously hand, eye, foot? Anything else? Sexual assault?"

"Check her for ever-" Adrian started, but was stopped by Ray's raised finger.

"Not you, asshole. I'm talking to my patient."

Bea winced and pressed herself into Adrian, shaking her head. "I'm good."

"Everything it is then," Ray said.

Fuck you, Adrian mouthed.

"No needles," Bea said. "Please, no needles."

"Fucking WRU," Ray muttered under his breath, and then louder. "We do this for the woman, and only for her, and depending on what she tells me about what happened, Adrian, I won't care about my wife having to bury her baby brother, have I made myself clear?"

Adrian grimaced. "Perfectly."

The nurse held Ray's arm, gaze still shooting daggers at Adrian. "He'll -"

"I deal with him," Ray said. "You look after her. No needles. No white room. No fixating her. No lab coats. New set of clothes that doesn't smell of facility. You know the drill. I'll be with you shortly."

Bea's gaze flickered between them. "I don't want to be alone," she mumbled. "Please."

"You won't be alone when you wake up," Ray said, voice soft as honey, as if there'd never been any harshness to it. "I promise."

"My owner," she said flatly, staring at Ray. "I want him. Nobody else."

"We don't use that word here," Ray replied gently. "And I can't promise that. We don't allow scum like him inside our clinic."

"I -"

"Marta will be there."

The nurse seemed to understand only now. "He's Marta's brother? Christ's sake."

"Yeah. Let me tell you Christmas isn't much fun at the Delgados'." Ray smirked. "Anyway. Is that okay for you, Bea?"

She didn't flinch, not only the tiniest bit, even though Adrian felt her breath catch for a second.

Bea. They hadn't said her name.

Why would Ray know it? Had the nurse noticed? Couldn't it still be plausible that he knew her name? Did Bea understand?

Bea nodded carefully. "Marta is nice."

The nurse's smile was somewhat forced. "Okay, dear. Sit in this wheelchair. We'll get you started."

Ray waited until the two of them had left, before he grabbed Adrian by the collar and shoved him into the wall. "Fucking idiot," he hissed. "Why? Why are you doing this? They'll ask questions. All of them will. Our guys. Your WRU cronies. Even my nurse, who isn't even pet lib. You're already walking a tight rope. You're not only threatening your own credibility, it's mine and Marta's, too. With our own people."

"I can't just bring her to a WRU clinic. You know what happened the last time she was in one?"

"I think we both know what happens to anyone who is in one. It's why we do what we do." He roughly shoved Adrian again, before he ran a hand over his own face. "You know that Diana will probably try and motivate me to kidnap Bea?"

Adrian chuckled tiredly. "Yeah well. Tell her, it would be too obvious and that I already suspect you to be pet lib and that this surely is a plot by me to lure you out because I always hated you anyway. Best even warn her to be careful around Bea, too, because she might well be a part of my plot."

He sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, that'll do." Ray looked up again. "But not forever. Not if you go on loosing your head like this. The girl distracts you from the job. And I fucking told you so on day one."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You're WRU, Adrian. Your job is to be the villain. And nobody - nobody - is supposed to see the moments when you're not."

"I'm -"

"You were just about to tell Diana, a stranger to you, that you hate WRU. While you're wearing their uniform, for fuck's sake. Do you want to get busted?"

"I came here because I need help for a victim of fucking WRU right now."

"And why did you have to do that? Because you had to help someone else two nights ago."

Adrian lifted his chin, but Ray cut him off. "Don't look at me like that. Marta tells me everything. You gotta pull yourself together, Adrian. Last shot. Or I'll cut you loose." He paused. "Your sister and I both agree on that."

Adrian gritted his teeth, bit back the nausea bubbling up in his stomach. "Great talk. You're going to punch me now, or what?"

Ray smirked and rolled his shoulders. "Aye."

He grabbed Adrian's lapel and roughly shoved him towards the exit. "Where?"

Adrian stumbled to keep his footing, before he spun back to challenge Ray again, arms spread wide. "Stomach," he hissed.

Ray's hand fell heavily onto Adrian's shoulder. His other fist swung forward to pound into his abdomen.

Even prepared as he was, even with Ray holding back at least a little, the blow was enough to black Adrian's vision out. All air was pressed from his lungs, his knees folding underneath him as if they weren't his own any longer.

Ray was insanely strong. Adrian could never stand a chance against him. And yet, Ray had always needed to rely on him. They'd relied on each other.

Fuck.

"Don't come back." Ray's voice was more vibration in Adrian's bones than actual sound in his ears.

Adrian rolled over to his side. A strangled groan escaped his lips.

Another nurse came running to Ray's side, ready to take to his colleague's side.

"Fuck WRU," Ray called, and then, quieter, to the newcomer, as he was already turning away to return into the building, "Just let him go. Asshole won't bother us again."

-------

--

pet safety tag list (ask to be added or removed!):

@gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses

@pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon @whumpinggrounds @somewhumpyguy

@whumpzone @tragedyinblue @theelvishcowgirl @light-me-on-pyre @whumps-and-bumps

@bilightningwhumper

[maidflowery]

Fortified Wager ♣♣♣ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 8

♦︎♦︎ Aventurine x Reader ♦︎♦︎ 𝕀𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

🄱🄰🄲🄺 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ 7】

𝕋𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥

𝐂𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐕𝐒 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 (𝟏)

╔══ ≪ ♥♦♥ ≫ ══╗

“See? You should have just kept quiet and done as you were told. The truth is, I actually like you. You’re quiet and obedient.”

When Big Baddie stood up, you realized he was twice your size.

So, you let the gems fall, teetering on the edge of the table as bait.

Sorry, Aventurine.

Meanwhile, you let your watch slid over your knuckle as a makeshift brass knuckle. There was no way you’d deal any real damage otherwise.

“I was just trying to save you, you know? I’m sure you also don’t know this, but that Avgin slave over there killed his owner.”

The moment he leaned in, eager to grab a hold of the gems, you swung your fist straight into his face!

“Of course I know, you piece of shit!

Otherwise, what kind of Aventurine’s fan were you?

“Uuoorrggh—!!”

As your fist connected with his nose, you felt the sharp impact reverberate through your knuckles, followed by a sudden, jarring crunch. Big Baddie took the punch square in the face and staggered backward. Soon, he lost his balance and fell, crashing to the ground in a heap.

Regret always came too late.

As you watched your wristwatch fell, shattering its glass on the floor, you realized you still loved it after all!! Also, your hand hurt like a bitch! Shit! Fuck! You could feel tears welling up in your eyes.

Above all, you were furious.

Aventurine never even brought up his past, so who the fuck gave this guy the right to do so?!

You recalled how the pair of violet-cyan eyes looked so lifeless and devoid of emotion the moment his past was mentioned. It was clearly something difficult—something he preferred to keep private, and for obvious reasons.

If Aventurine were a male lead in a romance novel, it would have taken over 100 chapters and three different arcs before he revealed his past!! Even then, it would be only to the person he trusted most, someone he felt comfortable being vulnerable with!! That was just how delicate this was!!

And yet, and yet... this guy, heartlessly, in front of everyone...

In the past, Aventurine's entire family and clan were massacred by their enemies. Though he survived the ordeal, he was soon enslaved. Only God knows the depths of trauma and torment he suffered at their hands—enough to drive him to kill.

“—Hahahaha! Of course! Of course she doesn’t know! That's what you get for letting his looks fool you!”

“Do you know how hard I’ve been holding back my laugh?! I was wondering how to break the news this whole time! Hahahaha!”

Of course, taking a life was rarely, if ever, justified.

But that is not a reason to laugh at or shame him?! Especially not this bastard, who drove two innocent children to seek revenge!!

A single tear rolled down your cheek. Regret, anger, sorrow and pain washed over you all at once—mostly pain.

While shaking your stinging hand like crazy, you screamed at Big Baddie, “But so what—?! So what if he killed his master?!”

If you were beaten within an inch of your life every day and treated far worse than an animal, what would you do?

If you had nothing left to live for but to await your death at the hands of your enslaver, how would you respond?

“—I’d have done the same!!”

Your shoulders heaved up and down as you struggled to regain composure. All you knew was that you were ranting out of sheer rage.

“Shut up!!” Big Baddie stood up while covering his nose. He glowered at you like a beast, blood oozing out of his hands. “You're just a pathetic slut serving tables!! Do you really think I can't destroy you?! That worthless slave won't protect you from me!!”

“...!”

You instantly went quiet.

Seeing this, Big Baddie grinned with triumph, blood staining his gold and white teeth.

...That’s right.

Back when you were merely a third party, you could easily dismiss the whole incident with Big Baddie as "unreasonable." As much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t see it as that big of a deal.

Why didn’t the staff just skirt around the problem, make some excuses, and feign ignorance? Or, even better yet, fight back. Then, call the authority if things escalated. Easy-peasy.

Well, the reason, as it turned out, was plain and simple.

It was the same reason you didn’t pick a fight with every professor who imposed outrageous assignments or feedbacks on you. Or why you hadn’t shoved your middle finger down Erin’s—your actual manager at the restaurant you actually worked at—prissy throat yet.

Because you’d be a dropout and without a job. Now, you wouldn’t say that you knew how every single staff in Primavera felt, but you certainly wouldn’t survive without your job, let alone switch colleges.

Facing against Billy Burnett, the infamous iron-fisted loan-shark, the stakes were even higher. One wrong move, and your entire life could be in jeopardy.

“Need I remind you what kind of authority they have? A single word from them could ruin the lives of many. I wouldn’t care if you’re the only one affected, but I also have something to protect, so stay in your lane.”

You recalled Marius’ words.

You wouldn’t blame him either—or anyone, for that matter. Everyone had their own circumstances. It was called “picking your battles.”

Which was why, only you could do this.

If it wasn’t you—who would?

You grinned.

Thanks for the reminder, Big Baddie.

Thus, as the waiter of the high-end nightclub Primavera, you shot back, “Watch your language! Aventurine is one of our most valued customers, and we do not tolerate any form of abuse or mistreatment toward him!”

“Wha—?!”

Big Baddie had a dumb look on his face. Perhaps this was the first time someone had called him out so boldly.

Also, you weren’t even lying!! Who else could singlehandedly quadruple the profit of a luxurious nightclub?! Calling him Primavera Jesus would be more fitting! Obviously, the staff would want to cling to him—especially after what you were about to do in their uniform, using their name!

While Big Baddie was still flabbergasted, you continued.

“—Given that this behavior has persisted, we are left with no choice but to ask you to leave and ban you from returning!”

After enduring his tyranny for so long, those were likely the words the staff had been dying to say, but couldn’t.

Then, your gaze briefly landed on your crisp, black uniform. Her uniform.

Of course, you wouldn’t pretend to understand how Judith felt either.

Still, when everyone else was too terrified or stunned to do anything, her manager took a punch in the face for her. If you were her, you’d be happy, knowing that most managers out there wouldn’t do even half as much—and at the same time, sad. But above all, angry.

So, you thought of saying this for her.

“—Also, that’s for punching my manager, asshole!!!”

Yes, only you, or specifically, Aschenputtel, could do this.

Aschenputtel, who was destined to lost her job either way. Aschenputtel, who had neither family nor friends, and would disappear past midnight.

Hence, you, Aschenputtel, decided—

—I’m taking you down with me, Big Baddie.

╚══════╝

🄾🄽🅆🄰🅁🄳 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ９】

I realized that at the rate I was doing it before, the update will only come once a month, or even 2 months in case anything happened. ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა I don't want to keep you guys hanging for that long. So I decided to post it as soon as a part is finished. Do tell me if any of you prefer that I just finish it as a whole before updating :D

[lakesbian]

“I knew he was the reason she had texted me for help, from the moment I saw her reaction.  Maybe I’d suspected there was something going on even before that, from the way her emails and texts had changed in tone.  It would explain that gut feeling I’d had that made me get over there as fast as I did.  I saw her shrink back, I felt her hold me tighter, and I went cold inside.

okay so just to set down the WoGs about this so we all know where i'm coming from

i think the biggest lie here aside from the obviously false constant reiteration he's doing that he Had No Idea Who The Man Was, No Sir is that he went cold inside...or rather i think 'i went cold inside' is a perfectly true statement, but he wants it to be taken as "i went emotionally dead inside and beat the man up like a cool and tough manly older brother and saved the day" when the reality is that he was frozen/chilled with fear from coming face-to-face w/ his abuser, and he hated himself for feeling so weak and incapable of moving/acting to protect his sister. his desire to be big + scary mixed w/ both his desire to run away/hide himself and aisha from their abuser and his mental conflation of "being able to care for people" and "being masculine/not being weak," and it resulted in the ability to generate darkness. darkness to scare people, darkness to hide him, darkness that makes him look bigger if he generates it around himself. all, of course, while he remains fundamentally vulnerable at the center.

like.

you know? You Fucking Know? brian laborn, man. & he explicitly details how this mindset was beaten into him as a child, while completely oblivious to the fact that there's anything wrong with it:

“Well my father is a hard man. Not the kind of man that’s meant to raise a son alone. I wouldn’t say he was abusive, but there’s never been any warmth to him, no charming anecdotes, no fatherly wisdom, no throwing baseballs in the backyard. The extent of our bonding was in the gym, him holding the punching bag in position while shouting at me that I was doing something wrong, staying grimly quiet if my form, my timing, the raw power of my hits were all flawless. Or we’d be in the ring, with boxing helmets and gloves on, a thirty five year old man in peak physical condition barely holding back against his fifteen year old son. He just expected me to keep up or take the hits, and I didn’t have much choice in the matter.

he has to be strong and masculine, because he's been taught that if he isn't, he will be demeaned and hurt.

so, my theory on the matter is that after he triggered from beating himself up over freezing, the little moment of him being distracted/staggered from coming out of the vision was enough for him to yell at himself in his head and kick himself into "fight" gear.

“So even if I was only fifteen, I was tall for my age, I was fit, and I knew how to throw a punch. I didn’t say a word, didn’t make a sound. I put my sister down and beat my mother’s boyfriend within an inch of his life, my mother screaming and wailing the entire time. When I was done, I picked my sister up and returned to the cab. We went to my father’s that night, and we went to the police station in the morning.”

i think the emphasis he puts on Not Saying A Word And Not Making A Sound is an indicator that that's another part of the memory he really wants to revise, just like how his constant reiteration that he didn't know the man is exactly what indicates that not only did he know the man, knowing the man was very significant and scary to him. i would put, like, 20 bucks down that he's insisting that he was dead silent precisely because he was choking back tears. as 4 the last bit of his big fucking lie....

“When you throw a punch barehanded, it doesn’t leave your hands pristine. A few good swings, you connect solidly with someone’s face, someone’s teeth, and it tears the fuck out of your knuckles. It was at my father’s place that night, washing and cleaning my hands, when I saw it. It wasn’t just blood leaking out of my torn up knuckles, but there was the darkness too, like wisps of really black smoke. You hear about the trigger event, you might think it’s all about rage or fear. But I’m a testament that it can be just the opposite. I didn’t feel a fucking thing.”

i think the fixation on the violence of the thing is in part a desperate desire to prove that he's strong enough--an indicator that he's still the same scared little boy he was 3 years ago, the boy with no route out of being beaten up by his father but violence, the boy being taught that knowing how to hurt people is what keeps you safe. he's trying to turn that into something good, by hurting the "right" people, by hurting people for aisha, but he's still fundamentally under the dysfunctional impression that being a strong, masculine man who can hurt people without flinching is good and impressive and a way to keep himself and his loved ones safe. i think it's also in part that this was the first time he ever really, seriously, intentionally hurt someone, and he's still got the vivid traumatic memories of the wounds to his knuckles to prove it. i do buy that he didn't notice the darkness until he was washing his hands--incredibly vivid and compelling symbolism, and one of the top all time worm things i wish people would redraw.

i also think it's really, really funny how he's insisting that he "didn't feel a fucking thing" RIGHT after a conversation between everyone about how trigger events are the worst day of your life. it's so comically teenage-edgelordy and fake as a trigger event story! and he is telling it because he wants taylor to think he's cool! and it works! she buys that shit! so so funny that he's telling this entire ass huge fucking lie right in front of lisa too. everyone on this team is always fucking lying in front of lisa like ooh good thing no one knows i'm lying. she is basically the bravest and nicest girl on the planet ever for not tattling on him.

[ivymarquis]

Ivy's Belated Kinktober 2k24 Extravaganza

A Quiet Corner

Day Two - Risky Place Soap x Reader WC: 1771 Content: Risky sex, semi-public sex, oral (F!receiving), PiV

Kinktober Masterlist Day One: Dirty Talk | Day Three: Stuck In The Wall

“Johnny, we can’t!” You hiss, trying to sway your boyfriend from doing the thing he is very obviously planning on doing. 

(The thing being fucking you within an inch of your life inside a supply closet.)

“Think you’ll find tha' we can, bonnie. Very, very easily,” he assures you with lust rolling through his words like velvet.

Your protests are, admittedly, half hearted. It’s not that you’re not interested- you very much want to climb him like a tree. But good God you’re in public. It’s not even like they returned home at 3am where there’s some plausible deniability that your tryst will go unnoticed. 

It’s broad daylight, and you kinda want to throw something at Ghost’s head because you know he knows Johnny is trying to sweet talk you into something illicit.

“It’s the middle of the day!” You point out the obvious, like that’s going to even remotely sway him. 

“It’s been three weeks,” is Johnny’s equally reasonable counter to you stating the obvious. 

And, damn him, he makes a fair point. But you’re not animals in heat, you can wait until the pair of you are somewhere private. You don’t have to-

-let Johnny drag you into a supply closet that he swears is far enough off the beaten path that no one should need it for the time this will take. 

How did you go from “We are not fucking in a closet” to being dragged into said closet?

Should you put your foot down and tell him unequivocally that the answer is “no”, you have no doubts that he would immediately yield to you. He would not push the matter. 

But he knows when you’re protesting in a mock outrage for propriety’s sake and not because of your own desires or a lack thereof. 

So yes, he’s running amok and trying his best to charm you out of your panties. Much to your annoyance, it is working. 

No sooner than the door clicks shut behind you- shut and not locked, a part of you remembers- Johnny devours you. Three weeks of longing and desire and unbridled lust welling up and spilling over as the pair of you pry at each other's clothes, lips locked together. 

The clock is officially ticking, and Murphy’s law dictates that at some point the pair of you are going to get walked in on no matter how rarely this closet is used. 

As much as you’d like to take the time to strip down to nothing (and strip Johnny down to nothing), that’s a bad idea. 

It seems that he is on the same page as you, pawing at the buckle of your belt so he can yank your pants down your thighs.

Johnny’s never been one to fear chasing what he wants. It’s obvious what he wants from the moon eyed expression fixated between your thighs and the way he jerks your pants down more to get better access between your legs and drops to his knees. 

The way he descends on you immediately has you leaning against the wall behind you for support.

There is nothing protecting the pair of you if someone walks in. Sure, Johnny kneeling in front of you will provide some coverage for the most important bits, but there’s absolutely no hiding what he’s up to. Not with the sound of his tongue lapping against your pussy like his life depends on it. 

It’s hard to keep quiet with him putting forth his best efforts to make you squeal. You’re really in trouble when he shifts between your thighs to quickly work one finger into you, only to make it two when he thinks you can take it. 

“Fuck, Johnny,” the pleading whine escapes you. Even you don’t know if you’re begging for mercy or for him to finish you off. 

“Three fuckin' weeks,” he admonishes with his head still buried between your thighs. Like it’s your fault he’s the one who gets sent to fuck-knows-where at the drop of a hat. 

His fingers find the spot that makes your legs shake. One of your hands buries in his hair, the other clamping against your mouth to muffle the noises threatening to escape.

“Almost a month without this sweet cunt,” he groans against your skin. It’s all you can do to breathe and let out a low moan as he alternates between pointedly latching and sucking on your clit, and letting go with a lewd pop just to tease your lower lips with the tip of his tongue before starting the whole cycle over again. 

His fingers haven’t let up on the abuse of your g-spot once. 

“Need ye tae cum, lass. Need the taste o' ye squirtin' all over my face.”

With all the focus he’s put into achieving his mission, it’s no surprise at all when you do exactly as told. 

One hand doesn’t feel like it’s enough to keep you quiet, but if you release the death grip you have on his hair with the other hand you worry you might fall over from how your legs are shaking. 

It’s a fight to get the necessary stability in your legs, but you breathe and shiver as you come down from your high about the same time Johnny is getting to his feet and whirling you around to face the wall. 

There’s little fanfare as he lines himself up and sinks home into you. For once he seems to acknowledge that other people could hear the two of you if you’re not quiet, his hand clamping over your own to help silence you. 

“That’s a good lass,” he groans low in a way that sends jolts straight to your pussy. “Be a good girl an' take it,” he instructs, like there’s anything else to do other than to be pliant and good. 

Like some cruel twist of fate, the knowledge that you need to be quiet just makes it all the harder to keep things down. Another knot of pleasure coils in your gut, clamping down and twisting tighter the more you think about getting caught. 

Johnny’s low grunts and curses don’t travel as well as your pitched, breathy little ah ah ahs that are timed perfectly with his cock burying itself inside of you. God- leave it to the sniper to have perfect aim, hitting that spot in you that makes your eyes cross and your knees buckle over and over and over again. 

“Missed ye so damn much,” Johnny huffs against the back of your neck. “Ye and this perfect fuckin' cunt. Had nothin' but ma hand and imagination for almost a month.”

You garble out something against your palm vaguely in the realm of Johnny I’m gonna cum again. Your reward is one of his hands dropping between your thighs.

“Fuckin' do it, then,” he goads as you gasp and wriggle in his hold, trying desperately to breathe through the orgasm threatening to overwhelm you as your pleasure starts to peak. 

He shouldn’t be surprised, really, when the only thing you can do at that point is buck against his hand and squeal. 

It’s taking all you have to keep your legs under you as your second orgasm washes over you. Johnny’s frantic circles around your clit get audibly wetter as you squirt, soaking his hand, the wall, and your thighs.

Johnny knows the routine, easing off of your clit while his pelvis claps against your ass. Knows that the sensitive little bundle of nerves needs a break from the direct stimulation, but you’re fine with him chasing his own end and getting his.

His hand slips from your mouth to a comfortable hold on your neck- not choking, but firmly in hand. 

“Fuck, Johnny” you groan lowly, voice now uncovered by either of your hands.

The feral grunt that escapes him as he thrusts against the plush of your ass keeps the embers of your pleasure rolling. Content in the sensation of him using your body to get his own pleasure, a well earned reward as you lean against the wall loose-limbed and compliant. 

“Want you to cum in me, Johnny,” you plead ever so sweetly to him, and that’s what does it. 

Your body stiffens at the sensation of his teeth digging into the meat of your shoulder, yelping in shock as you realize he’s biting you as he crosses the finish line.

Your arm twists so you can bury your fingers in his hair, “Johnny- fucking- teeth!”, yanking sharply to make him let go.

The ass is using you to muffle his own grunts of pleasure, his teeth loosening their grip on you about the same time as his hips stop canting against yours.

Pleasure is still the overarching sensation coursing through your veins. You’re tired, content with your climaxes and the knowledge the love of your life is safe and back home relatively unscathed. Even if there’s now a perfect imprint of his teeth in your skin.

The haze of the moment is lifted when you hear a high pitched giggle outside. Oh mother fucker-

“Looks like someone had the same idea we did,” you don’t recognize the voice, but do feel Johnny’s hands grabbing at you to haul your clothes back into place with a muffled “Shit”.

“I know another spot, come on,” the other voice is hushed, their footfalls leading away. 

Thank God you don’t recognize who they are, and can only assume likewise they don’t recognize you. 

Johnny doesn’t dress himself until he’s satisfied you’re put back in order- dick out of his trousers the whole time, just hanging until you’re situated and only then does he tuck himself back in..

“We should head back before someone walks in here,” you caution, aware that while you’re both clothed that you’re not exactly out of the woods for getting caught just yet.

Johnny grabs you, turning you to face him before he crowds your body with his own. “Come here,” he instructs and pulls you to him, kissing and groping at you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep a hold on you. “Just another minute,” he pleads. You can’t possibly tell him no. 

You kiss him back, happy to have him home and whole and safe in your arms. 

It’s an odd sensation, living in a moment that you just know is going to be forever burned into your memory.

Not even an hour ago, this closet was just a door you’d pass by without a single thought given to it. Now every time you pass by it, or think back on your time at this base, you’ll remember this moment rather fondly.

[logansgaar]

the more I'm thinking about this "Bucky Barnes is a mutant who just happened to have a mutation that kinda looked like the super soldier serum's affects" AU the more it makes plausible sense with everything we know about mutants across the marvel cinematic omg

Dormant mutant genetics can be triggered by one of two things: extreme torturous circumstances or exposure to an Infinity Stone (evidence: this is how Wade Wilson and Wanda Maximoff respectively had their x genes triggered.) Pick your poison, Bucky was exposed to both of these things around the same time. He was literally forced to build weapons made from the Tesseract's energy like all the other POWs were, Bucky had extensive exposure to Tesseract radiation (also something Shuri canonically confirms). Bucky was also undergoing extreme conditions being worked to death, he had pneumonia before any of Zola's experiments even began and was on deaths door... how did a man who was practically dead already survive the intensely traumatic experience of having the serum when many men had died on Zola's table before him? Even before Bucky makes it onto Zola's table, a guard beats him nearly to death, breaking his ribs, because he's not strong enough to work anymore due to his pneumonia.

Why did Zola pick Bucky? Out of all the able-bodied men available, after a string of previous stronger men, Zola picked the one who was basically already dead? He risked exposure to a guy with an infectious disease no less who'd just been brutally beaten within an inch of his life with a fucking empty bomb shell thing?, to the point warring inmates teamed up to murder the guard in front of the whole camp, damn the consequences? Gabe Jones didn't think Bucky was going to make it another day and yet he survives without medical treatment, in awful dirty cold damp conditions in the cell, and even less food due to the group punishment for the guard's death for an indeterminate length of time before somehow ending up in Zola's lab.

Unless Bucky was already displaying unusual phenomenon. He was suffering with extreme exhaustion, pneumonia, broken ribs, deep contusions, likely the beginnings of body wasting through the disease and lack of food...his survival is shocking, I think anyone would be shocked to see a man with all that going on getting up and just continuing to live for who knows how long, Zola actively working on replicating the serum might've taken an interest because of this.

What were the Soviet soldiers doing all the way out there where they picked up Bucky? Why did they pick him up? Someone smarter than me also deduced that Bucky likely got himself out and walked some distance before the Soviets found him. Zola hadn't had time to get any messages out as far as we know and his deal with the Colonel didn't start until after Bucky was "gone". Unless the Soviets saw some real freaky shit going on with this random American soldier missing an arm, potentially the same thing Zola saw in the prison camp, and thought hmm we're not sure we want to give him back to the Americans who already have their super soldier (proto cold war with super soldiers instead of nukes...)

From what we know so far, none of the serums currently in use come from Bucky's blood. They come from the multiple different attempts to replicate Steve's serum. The CIA developed a lot of them and Isaiah Bradley's was just the one that happened to work, and Isaiah came before Howard's, and we can infer from that that all current serums stem from Isaiah's blood. Alexei says his serum was developed from stolen blood from a "semi-stable" CIA test subject, which was most likely Isaiah, since not only is Bucky's considered the most stable serum after Steve's, it's hinted that Zola lost whatever he might've done to Bucky when the facility exploded. He was given no time to pack anything up and would've had no way of knowing a possible serum used on Bucky worked at all given Bucky was still strapped down when Steve arrived. It seems unlikely HYDRA never tried to replicate Bucky's serum and it seems they weren't able to, I have two theories about that: they didn't have an Infinity Stone anymore, which Shuri believes was used in the place of Vita Rays, so they couldn't get whatever Bucky's got cooking to work on anyone else for that reason, or Bucky was never a super soldier at all, with no serum in his blood to attempt synthesizing from.

Just for fun: Bucky teleports. He just...pops around. This is complete crack but a common thing with Bucky is him just disappearing and reappearing in new locations that are implausible to reach even for a super soldier. And it's not just weird editing post-production either, characters react to it, it's a deliberate plot detail. Bucky's somehow able to disappear in seconds in front of T'Challa, the Black Panther, and a lobby full of people and none of them know where he's gone. It was a helipad btw. He somehow ended up on the helipad... dunno how he got there. Bucky jumped off a building with nowhere to go and a second later Steve looked, had a clear unobstructed view, and couldn't see where Bucky went. He does it more as WS than Bucky, so maybe as Bucky he's just not consciously aware he can do it so he doesn't, like the whole "I'm right handed so I don't always think to use [the arm]" thing whereas WS uses everything available to him.

Going with the Infinity Stone exposure theory, the stone Bucky was exposed to was the space stone, and the one Wanda was exposed to was first off the mind stone, and she had mind powers (along with the energy we've seen from all the stones) up until after the Infinity Wars where she came into contact with all the Infinity stones then boom, upgrade. Bucky gets shot once by the Power stone, that's it.

[damnfandomproblems]

"I had a friend in the past who cheated on their (now ex) partner. They cheated because their partner was physically, emotionally, and financially abusive to them. They couldn't leave at that time but they still wanted their romantic and sexual needs to be fulfilled by someone they loved, so they dated someone in secret behind their partner's back."

Let me preface that I'm saying this as a now adult woman who grew up in DV/homeless shelters and run down trailers/mobile homes because my mother was someone who would cycle between dating physically, financially, emotionally abusive men and not dating at all.

I am either calling bullshit on your friend, or as rude as it, I'm calling them fucking braindead.

Unless you actually saw them getting abused, evidence of them getting abused, and can confirm it wasn't just explosive retaliation/reaction abuse from their partner becayse they were actually the more abusive one, I struggled to see how someone can be so fucking stupid as to cheat on an abuser. You know why?

BECAUSE THAT'S HOW YOU GET KILLED! That is how you get your CHEATING PARTNER KILLED! That is how you get beaten within an inch of your fucking life when they find out or even just suspect! It is how you get a gun brought over to your affairs place and get them fucking shot! This is something that was common ass sense for some reason for every battered woman I met in DV shelters because one the threshold of physical abuse was crossed, murder is on the table, and you don't fucking temp a potential murder. Your partner is so fucking likely to attempt to kill you and anyone else close enough to you once they start abusing you physical it disgusting. And literally every abused person I has met knew this!

So either this is bullshit your friend made up to justify themselves or they were genuinely fucking mentally defunct and risking their own life and someone else's life just to abuse their partner back. Yes, I say abuse because you can be both the victim and a perpetrator at once. Just because one partner hits the other doesn't make the emotional abuse the other inflictes invalid. It doesn't make the risk they're subjecting the new third party okay in the slightest. There's the "nuance" you've been talking about.

"Were they a bad person for that? Did that make them an abuser themselves?"

Yes and if they're telling the truth, it made them extremely stupid too. They should have been focusing on how to safely escape, like sneakily connecting with family and friends and informating them of their situation and looking for a safe place to go, not doing something that they know will cause their partner extreme hurt and possibly (if not likely) make them homicidal against ALL involved parties.

"Were they just as bad as their ex for it?"

We could play the trauma opympics all day, but ultimately, one abuse being "worse" then the other doesn't make the first abuse any less abuse. One partner abusing the other doesn't give them the right to abuse their partner back and put someone elses life on the line so they can have a fuck. Now, defending themselves? Of course, even lethally so if needed. But abuse never justifies abuse, and abuse never justifies risking another person's life.

It's why rapists aren't sentenced to be raped. It's a cruel and unusual punishment and as individual people, we need to save that shit for own personal power fantasies in our head. Plus, in no world is knowly risking giving ANYONE a STD or STI fucking okay! No matter how evil. Just lock them up or spread awareness about their behavior. Fucking hell.

"I can acknowledge that this situation is a one in a million case, but the people saying "everyone who cheats is a scumbag" need to realize that real life is messy and almost every situation has nuance to it."

Cheating is one of the few things that doesn't have any nuance to it. Just like how rape doesn't. Obvious not "as bad" as each other before you whine about that, but both are are the same in sense they are fundamentally choices one willing made knowing they will hurt someone else. Choices only ever made out selfishness.

Your friend was fucking selfish and stupid. They knew what they were doing was hurting and putting both of their partner at risk of STDs ans STIs, and if they were fully honest with you, they knew they were putting themselves and their cheating partner at risk of a beating at minimum. They knew, and maybe it was there way of getting revenge or trying to commit indirect murder-suicide or to anger their partner so much they'd abused them back so they could play the biggest victim, who knows. Regardless, it was a choice deliberately made to hurt someone else and risk the well-being of another, and them possibly getting hurt first doesn't justify it.

They should have been working on what they had to get out, not fucking around. They cared more about a shag then their own and their cheating partner(s)'s safety.

That alone makes them revolting to me.

Along the lines of what another replier said, maybe this is just you trying to solve the trolley problem and make up a scenario where cheating is justified. Wouldn't surprise me.

Either way, you're a deranged fool.

Also adding on to my already long reply: The desire for romance and sex is not a need. You will not die without either. And if you get depressed when lacking one or both, you need therapy to learn to be happy single and celibate. This whole "need" language is made up just up justify cheating and rape. No one is entitled to romance and sex, and people are not cruel if they deny it to you and your life isn't worst or more sad without it. I say this as someone who loves romance and sex. IT IS NOT A NEED! It is a WANT! You can live a good happy life without it. Got a leftie or a righty or a vibrator? USE IT INSTEAD AND SHUT UP! Fucking hate this "needs" rape-culture bullshit.

Posting as a response to a previous ask.

[kristannafever]

Big Sky Ranch - 24

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: Explicit WC: 2950

Chapter Index

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

Anna pulled up to the cabin slowly and cautiously, on alert.  There was a truck parked in her usual spot and a figure sitting in one of the chairs on the porch.  As she got closer, her eye’s widened to see who it was, and it struck fear into her heart.

Immediately she stopped the car and called Kristoff.  No sooner was the phone to her ear and the man was standing slowly, looking at her. 

“Anna?  Everything okay?” he answered.

“Get home now, Kristoff.  Boone is here.”

“What?” he said, voice sharp with panic.

“Get home.”

“Yup, right now.”  He hung up so Anna did the same as Boone descended the steps towards her car.  Anna wasn’t sure what to do.  It crossed her mind quickly to throw the car in reverse and get the hell out of there.  She put her hand on the gear shift, about to execute the maneuver, when he stopped advancing and his hands came up in a surrendering gesture and he said something to her.

Anna shook her head he repeated himself, hands still up in the air.  “I came here to apologize,” he said, barely audible through the rolled-up windows.

Anna reached down and fished the knife out of her belt buckle and opened it, thankful she’d worn it today.  Slowly, she opened the door of the car and stood, keeping a laser focus on him.  If he moved towards her, she was going to get back in the car and get out of there.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here,” Anna warned.  “Kristoff is on his way.”

Boone nodded, and seeming to recognize how on guard Anna was, took a step back.  “Good.  I certainly need to apologize to him too.”

“So, that’s what this is all about?”

He nodded.  “Part of the program.  Atoning for all my wrongdoings and all that.”

Anna was about to ask him where he got off just showing up like this when she heard hooves in the distance.  It surprised her.  Kristoff must have already been on his way home with Kosta when she called.  Still, she didn’t look for him.  She kept her gaze locked on Boone, who now looked incredibly nervous. 

“Look, I meant what I said,” he began, outstretched hands shaking slightly as the hooves grew louder.  “He’s not going to wait for me to explain.  He going to beat the shit out of me if you don’t tell him why I’m here.

“Yeah, I can see that happening,” Anna agreed, sparing a glance to her left where Kosta came charging around the berm.  Kristoff’s face was twisted with rage.

“Please, I really am sorry.  I really just want to apologize so I can put all this behind me.”

Kosta came to a skidding halt as Kristoff flew off the saddle and ran towards Boone.  Yeah, he was definitely going to beat the shit out of him before the man could get a word in edgewise. 

Anna took one last look at Boone’s pleading eyes and decided he was on the level.  Anna snapped the blade back in the knife, slid it in her pocket and stepped forward quickly, putting herself in front of Kristoff and placing her hands firmly on his chest.  He stopped.

“He’s here to apologize, Kristoff,” she said loudly and sternly.  He wasn’t looking at her, his furious gaze was focused on Boone.  “Baby!  Look at me.”  He did so, reluctantly.  “To apologize.  No harm.  Okay?”

Kristoff blinked at her, scanning her eyes.  After confirming she was comfortable, he nodded, only his brow did not unfurrow.   Anna slowly took her hands off his chest.  When he remained where he was, she turned around and stood beside him.  Boone, understandably, looked incredibly relieved.  His hands were still up at surrender and still shaking.

“I came to apologize,” he started.  “I don’t mean you any harm, I promise.”

“What’s a promise from you worth to me,” Kristoff growled through gritted teeth.  “You hit my girlfriend and you deserve to be beaten within an inch of your life for that.”

Boone’s hand slowly went to his neck, touching it gently.  “Nearly was, if you remember.  You almost crushed my trachea.”

“You deserved it,” Kristoff warned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, you are correct.  I certainly did.”  Boone slowly lowered his hands to his side.  “Look, I am really sorry for all the seriously fucked-up things that I did.  I have no excuse.  I own all my wrongdoings and I will have to live with them.  I just wanted you to know that I am on a path to making myself a decent person.  And I know that I can in no way make you accept my apology, but I offer it nonetheless.  I am very sorry.”  He looked at Anna.  “And I am incredibly embarrassed by my actions towards you, ma’am.  I am very sorry.”

Kristoff let out a tired sigh as he uncrossed his arms and turned towards her.  Anna looked at him.  He was asking her with his eyes for approval before speaking.  She gave him a small subtle nod.  He looked back to Boone. 

“Well, I am still mad as hell about it all, if I’m going to be honest.  But you seem sincere, and any man that can admit his faults and work on fixing them, is worth something.  So, I accept your apology.”

“I do as well,” Anna chimed in, curling her hands around Kristoff’s bicep. 

Boone nodded and clasped his hands together as in prayer.  “Thank you.  I truly appreciate you accepting my apologies.  I will get out of your hair.”

He turned towards his truck when Kristoff spoke.  “I’m glad for you that you are working on being a better person, Boone, but don’t get me wrong, I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Boone looked over his shoulder with a sly smile.  “The feeling is mutual.”  Then he got in his truck and backed down the laneway and out of sight. 

Kristoff pulled his arm out of Anna’s grasp and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him.  “That certainly had me worried,” he muttered, slight smile on his face.  “Is it bad that I am a little disappointed that I didn’t get to beat the shit out of him?”

Anna laughed heartily.  “As much as I would have loved to see that, I’m glad that you didn’t have to.”

He sighed, looking down at her lips, then back up to her eyes.  “I love you so much, Anna.”

She smiled back at him.  “I love you too, Kristoff.  Now go stable Kosta and get your ass in the house and make love to me.”

He grinned back.  “Yes, ma’am.” 

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

“Anna, do you understand social media?”

Anna looked up from the onion that she was dicing for the stew she was preparing for dinner.  It had only been a week since he announced he was cancer free and Anna still felt relief wash over her every time she laid eyes on him. “I do.”

Art was looking at brand-new phone that he’d wandered into the kitchen with only moments before.  “And you use it yourself?”

She set down the knife on the cutting board.  “Yeah, I have Instagram and Facebook, but nothing else.  I deleted some others I didn’t use not long after I moved here.”

He looked at her. “Facebook I kind of understand.  What is Instagram?”

“Oh, you can post pictures and tag them to share with your followers.”

Art blinked at her.  “Tag them?”

Anna smiled.  “I can go through it all with you if you’d like?”

Her boss shook his head.  “Let me just cut to the chase.  I am too damn old to ever get how this shit works.  I want to start a social media for the Ranch and I want you to run it.  I’ll up your wage for the added work.”

Anna’s eyes went wide.  He was already paying her very handsomely for a cook/housekeeper.

Not giving her a chance to respond, Art continued, holding out the phone to her.  “Here, I got this phone just for the social medias.”

She smiled, taking the phone.  The idea of running the Ranch’s social media sounded really fun.  And the added pay was a huge bonus. 

He said, “I want us to come across as we are.  Very grass-roots.  Very rural focused.  Supporting local farmers and ranchers and all that.  Maybe educating the nay-sayers on how we actually do things.”

Anna nodded.  “Absolutely.  I completely understand what you are going for.”

Art went to the kitchen table and sat, motioning for her to join him.  She took a seat across from him.   “I want Facebook and Instagram for sure,” he said.  “What else do you suggest?”

“Um, I think those two are the best places to start.  YouTube might be interesting.”

“And that is?”

“You post videos.  You can do a series and get subscribers to your channel.”

“Good.  Have the boys help with those.  I imagine those fools will be entertaining.”

Anna laughed.  “Okay.  I can set up a LinkedIn account for the Ranch too.”  Art stared blankly so Anna continued.  “It’s a way to connect through business.  Job seekers can view potential employers and look for work.  In turn, you could scout out potential employees if you find you are in the need of one.”

“Interesting.  Alright, lets do that.”  He leaned back in his chair.  “Is there more?”

She shrugged one shoulder.  “A couple, but for what you want I think those are plenty good places to get some footing.”

“Excellent.  Set it all up for me please.” 

“Absolutely.  Do you have a specific email you want to use to create these accounts?”

Art stood.  “No idea.  You can set that up too, can’t you?”

Anna grinned, standing with him.  “Yeah of course.”

“Great.”  His eyes scanned the island where Anna had just started the dinner prep.  He looked at her.  “You know what?  I feel like going to town for dinner.  Why don’t you clean up and knock off early.”  He winked.  “No dock in pay of course.”

Anna’s face warmed with gratitude.  “Sure thing.”

Art smiled at her and left her to it.  She cleaned up quickly, anticipating helping the guys get a start on their dinner and setting up these new accounts.  She already had a bunch of ideas floating in her head for some fun content. 

-------

Kristoff rode up on Kosta, sexy smirk under his cowboy hat, looking hot as hell.  Anna sighed deeply.  There was no way she would ever tire of seeing him up on a horse.  The man was utter perfection.  She watched him the entire time as he made his way over to stable.   

Sven and Dixie rode past a short time later, her sister giving her a little wave and smile as Anna stood at the grill.  Peeking in the fridge, she’d concluded that the guys were either going to make burgers again, or chicken.  Anna figured she’d elevate the meal and do honey-glazed chicken kabobs with mushrooms, peppers, onions and zucchini.  On the side, she planned on doing rice and a balsamic dressed salad.  Over the months, she’d gotten quite good at her cooking techniques and could now whip up a dish based on what was in the fridge with no problem.

Buck shambled up to her.  Him and Tuck had been the first one’s back after riding all day to push the cattle one pasture closer to the Ranch house.  “That smells heavenly, Anna.”

Tuck appeared at her other side, opening the lid of the grill.  “Oh, wow!  Those look amazing.”

Anna smiled at them.  “Thanks.  How went the day, gentlemen?”

They both laughed.  “We ain’t gentlemen, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Buck said.  “It went great.  Nice weather, easy herd.  Can’t really get any better.”

“Awesome,” Anna smiled. 

The older men wandered into their house as the rest of the hands came in.  Everyone told her how wonderful it smelled, and Anna started to blush with the compliments.  It warmed her heart, grateful all over again to be living this wonderful and amazing life.  There were still times she didn’t recognize herself in the mirror.  Her hair was lighter from being out in the sun, her freckles more prominent.  She’d gained weight with muscle, and her body was fit and toned.  She knew she was smiling more that she ever had in her other life.  There wasn’t a thing she felt want for, besides her sexy cowboy of course.  They never even turned on her TV once.  A month ago, they’d put it in the closet since it covered half of the front window.   And Anna did not miss her shows one bit. 

She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  The meal smelled as wonderful as she felt. 

Kristoff appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her stomach and hugging her back to his chest.  “Baby, you have no idea how excited we are all to eat whatever smells so good.”

Anna laughed and lifted the lid of the grill for him to see. 

He let out a low whistle.  “Damn.  We feast as royalty tonight.”

She turned her head so that she could kiss him.  His lips, as always, were warm and inviting.  Just delicious.

Everyone gathered around and helped Anna finish the rest of the dinner.  Coop took over the sides, preparing the rice as Anna had showed him, then tearing and washing all the lettuce for the salad.  Someone brought over the table and someone else got plates and someone else, Buck of course, passed out a round of beers, and suddenly country music playing out the window of Sven and Dixie’s place.

Anna took it all in, her heart swelling with happiness at the way all of them moved together.  Levi rarely stayed for the meals, as he wanted to get home to his wife, and yet he still helped before he left by grabbing Anna the roasting pan so she could stack the kabobs in when they came off the grill.  It was wonderful the comradery that they all had. 

They all ate together in the circle of lawn chairs, plates balanced on their knees.  Everyone raved about her food, making Anna feel that swell of gratitude all over again.  When they were done everyone cleaned, demanding, as always, that since Anna made the dinner, she wouldn’t be lifting a finger to clean up.  She sat smiling as everyone took a task and completed it quickly.  Many hands make light work.

Kristoff was the first one finished, likely kicked out of the kitchen inside Sven’s place so that he could hang out with Anna.  Then Buck and Tuck joined, followed by Jett and Coop.

Sven appeared at the door to his house a moment later.  “You’re singing tonight, Kris!” he said jovially as he descended the steps with Dixie close at his heels. 

He laughed.  “Am I now?”  He looked over to Anna and she just gave him a shrug.  He knew she loved it when he sang. 

“Alright,” he said, pretending to grumble when Anna knew full well he had come to love singing to everyone.

They all grabbed their chairs and hauled them around to the back of the houses where the fire pit was.  Buck went to get his guitar while Sven worked on getting the fire going.

Anna leaned over to Kristoff after they sat down.  “I know exactly what you’re going to sing.”

He looked at her sideways.  “You’re not tired of listenin’ me sing it are you?”

“Of course not.  I love that song too.” 

He grinned back and started strumming the guitar with gusto for the happy, upbeat song by Stephen Lee Olson.

“Bought a little land Had to have a barn Landed me a woman with horses in her heart True what they say grass is greener on a farm It'll make a long day worth it The sun goes down it gets colder So yeah, the closer I hold her Where it's going, it's moonshine clear Shootin' stars out the sky Talkin' a hood hot night The kind, that can only happen out here

With a bonfire flicker, and a red solo sipper Catch a heel to toe on a Lucchese Out here we bump a little Strait Make a acre shake Roll up and get a Backwood blazing Honey so thick it make a weekend slower Beer is better on a John Deere mower Static automatic music to my ears Wouldn't have it any different Good God, I love livin' out here, out here…”

He continued to sing the song, taking in all the happy smiles around him, driving up his own joy in life.

*****

Art stood leaning against Sven’s house out of the sight of the people around the fire.  He had tears in his eyes.  Slowly, he turned and shuffled back up to the house, trying to rein in his emotion.

To see them all like that, happy, laughing and singing a song like that, hit home in the difficult decisions he’d been wrestling with making.  He’d been wrought with worry over making the wrong choices.  It would be a big change for everyone on the ranch, and he expected to be met with a certain amount of reluctance.  Especially for what he knew about the men who worked for him.  In the end, he only wanted his wishes to be respected. 

He figured after the weekend he would call them in for a meeting on Monday morning and let them know where their futures lay. 

---

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

The Outsider: Part 6

Hasil Farrell x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Swearing, Alcohol (Mostly Farrell Wine) Gun Violence, Broken Established Relationship, Cheating, Domestic Violence, murder

- Part 5 Here -

——————————

18+ Only

——————————

You knew it would go wrong, you just had a gut feeling.

But you also knew it was the only way to lure Wyatt and his people away from the clan, from the woman and children and elderly folk that couldn’t stand up for themselves, and that alone was worth the risk.

Hasil hadn’t liked the thought of it when G’win pitched the idea, but she promised him you’d be safe.

You promised Hasil you could handle it, and Hasil promised you, that no matter what, he’d protect you.

The plan was for you to lure them to the caves, where you’d be strung up and feigning a kidnapping.

You’d call out for Wyatt, and then distract him with a story, tell him you’d been tortured, beaten, that you’d longed for him to save you, all the while Hasil and his clan who would be hiding in the trees, behind boulders and in the caves, would encircle the Losties, ambush them when they were distracted.

Only it hadn’t gone that way, not exactly.

You’d felt nervous, you hadn’t wanted to see Wyatt again, let alone pretend to need him. You were hoisted just off the ground, your hands bound above you, your feet tied together. Chicken blood smeared across your flowing white dress to make it look like you were injured.

Hasil was gentle when he tied you up, and by the look on his face you could tell he just wanted to cut you down and run away with you, but it was too late for that now.

“That’s not too tight is it?” He asked gently.

You shook your head, “I’m okay, Hasil. Are you okay?” You forced a soft smile.

He feigned a smile back although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah…”

“Hey… it’s gonna be okay.”

Hasil nodded, and stepped back slowly, hesitant to leave you there. “I love you, you know that right?”

You grinned, letting out a soft laugh, “Impossible not to know. I love you.”

Once everyone had taken their positions, you had to just wait. Wait for Wyatt to come and find you, the exact opposite of what you’d been doing for the last few weeks, but you hoped this would be the last time you ever needed to see his face.

——————————

Wyatt and his men were growing tired, the mountain proving to be more difficult to navigate than previously thought.

The air was heavy, thick, warm. They struggled upwards, almost as if the mountain was trying to fight them, push them to give up, turn around, go back down below.

But Wyatt was determined, he only had one thing on his mind.

When he found you, he was going to beat you within an inch of your life. He was going to show you why you should never even think of leaving him again, and he was going to kill Hasil, and anyone who tried to get in his way.

A few hours passed, and the group had to stop, exhaustion burning their lungs and muscles, their weapons weighing them down into the fertile mountain soil like the ground itself was feeding on them, swallowing them into the mountain.

Wyatt’s friend Garrett sat down on the ground, panting and fighting to catch his breath. He placed his backpack down, and reached for his bottle of water.

Something glistened in the undergrowth, shiny and out of place against the dark greens and browns.

He bent over and reached for it, holding the cold, shiny object on the flat of his palm.

“The fuck is that?” Wyatt asked, walking over, having noticed the curiosity on his friends face.

He took the object from Garretts hand, holding it to the light.

His jaw clenched, fury filling him the second he recognised it.

Your wedding ring, discarded and forgotten, just like him.

You would never know it, but it had sealed your fate in the palm of his hand, his one purpose shifting to something entirely different, and far more sinister.

———————————

You were beginning to grow sore, hanging from the tree for god knows how long, but Hasil periodically poked his head out from his hiding spot to blow you kisses, mouthing to you to check you were still ok.

You lied and nodded, smiling at him reassuringly. Part of you wanted to call it quits. To be cut down, to try and formulate another plan in the little time you had, but you knew there wasn’t time and this was, somehow, the best plan.

Eventually there was a shift, and it was almost as if the mountain told you you weren’t alone anymore, woodland creatures scattering from their homes and birds cawing in the trees above.

Everyone got into position, and it was suddenly, almost too suddenly, time.

Hasil gave you one last look, gave you the signal, and you took a deep breath.

Wyatt and his men were close, so you let out a loud cry, and your voice carried effortlessly against the gentle wind that floated down the mountain.

“Help!” You cried, in your best distraught voice. “Please! Somebody help me!”

Hasil and the others watched you from their hiding spots, and Hasil’s heart lurched at every cry.

He knew it was a ploy, but he couldn’t help the way your voice made him want to drop everything and cut you down. To hold you in his arms and protect you against all bad things in the world. You were everything, nothing compared to you, and nothing was worth doing if it was without you.

Every breath he took was for you, and it took every ounce of willpower not to fall to your knees, carry you in his arms and make love to you until the sun came up.

He had to snap out of it, to hold on just a little longer, it was the only way to protect his family and ultimately, you.

“Please!” You cried out, “Is there anybody out there? Help me!”

Another stab to poor Hasil’s heart.

“Y/N!” You heard Wyatt’s voice call out.

Your stomach dropped, and you began to shake.

“Wyatt! Is that you? I’m over here!” You forced out, but every part of you screamed to just stay quiet.

You could see Wyatt in the distance, and you were surprised by the number of people that had followed him, suddenly worried you’d be outnumbered.

You felt a pit of nausea build in your stomach at the sight of him.

Forcing the bad feeling away, you cried out again, wriggling against your constraints as he got close enough to see you.

“Wyatt! Thank god, please help me!” You sounded desperate, a great actress in your own mind.

When he walked into the small clearing, you noticed that the look on his face was far darker and more void of emotions than it had ever been before. There was no sign of relief, no smile to indicate he was happy to see you, just a disgusted frown under his brown moustache.

He stopped just in front of you, his men filtering in around him and some moving to you for help.

Wyatt held out a hand to stop them.

“Baby?” You whimpered. It may have been directed at Wyatt, but you were calling out for Hasil now, fear rippling beneath your skin like nettles.

You pulled at the constraints against your wrists, your nerves getting the better of you. You wanted out, something on his face telling you you’d made a horrible mistake.

Wyatt stood below you, his entourage lingering behind, confusion on their faces as to why he wasn’t rushing to your aid. His helpless wife, injured and tied and calling out to him, something that would cause any normal man to break.

Suddenly, Wyatt cracked a sickening smile, chuckling menacingly, “You really think I’m that fuckin’ stupid?” He said softly, calmly.

“What do you mean? Help me, Wyatt, get me down from here, please!” Your chest began to tighten as you struggled against the ropes, real fear beginning to take hold.

Wyatt held your wedding ring between his fingers up to the light, watching as the fat diamond shone, a reminder of better times now long buried.

“I should have known, before I married you, that were a fuckin’ whore.”

Wyatt threw the ring to the ground, reached behind his back, and pulled out a pistol from his waistband.

“Wyatt…” your voice quivered.

The air stilled as he pointed the gun at you and pulled the trigger.

The sound rippled through the trees, Wyatt’s followers flinching, covering their ears in surprise, and birds left their perches and scattered noisily into the air above.

Hasil’s body turned cold, and for a split second he couldn’t move, but he forced himself to stand from his spot behind the trees.

“What the fuck, man?” Someone yelled.

“I didn’t sign up for this-“

Hasil’s knees buckled as he watched from his vantage point as you gasped, hot blood spreading across the white dress from the centre of your stomach.

“No… No!” Hasil cried, stumbling forward. “What have you done?!”

Wyatt, still expressionless, turned and pointed his gun at Hasil. He moved to pull the trigger again but Lil Foster was quick to appear from his

spot behind a tree and pull his crossbow on him.

The rest of the clan, one by one, stood from their hiding spots, and Wyatt and his men watched wearily as slowly, they grew outnumbered.

Although they had more firepower, they were cornered, and there was no chance of getting out unscathed. Wyatt and Lil Foster now stood head to head, both ready and prepared to make the first move as Hasil made his way down to you.

He didn’t care that there were Losties with weapons, all he cares about was getting to you, panic tearing at his lungs and muscles as he stumbled over dirt and roots and rocks.

The air was silent, thick with regret and anticipation as he pulled his knife and quickly worked to cut you down.

You fell into his arms, your hands desperately clutching the gunshot wound in your abdomen.

“Hasil-“ you choked, “I…”

“Shhh, shhh…” he stroked your hair with watery eyes and laid you back gently.

Hasil’s heart was colliding against his chest at a dizzying pace, he felt sick, disbelief stunning him for a second, but the blood that poured over your fingers only solidified what was happening, and he moved your hands to take over.

Pressing against the wound was no use, you were bleeding too profusely, the colour in your skin quickly ebbing.

“You’re gonna be okay, y’hear me? Baby? You’re gonna be fine.” He picked you up in his arms and held you tightly against him, kissing your face desperately.

You tried to tell him you loved him, to thank him for showing you love could be beautiful, but words were failing you as you gasped and choked.

“No darlin’, please, please… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He peppered desperate kisses into your hair, terror and heartbreak washing over him as you began to shake.

One of Wyatt’s followers dropped his gun to the floor and held his hands up, backing away.

“Wyatt man, I didn’t sign up for this. You said you wanted to get her back, this isn’t what I thought you meant.”

Still pointing his gun at Lil Foster, Wyatt turned his head to look at him, then at you crumpled and broken and lifeless in Hasil’s arms as wept and wailed.

“Bitch got what she deserved.”

Hasil stilled, the cold feeling in his bones turning white hot as rage ran through him.

Carefully, Hasil placed you down on the ground, his tears stilling and his jaw clenching.

“The fuck did you just say?” Hasil’s voice was low, but he knew Wyatt heard him by the way the clan adjusted their stances, ready for what was coming.

Hasil stood to his feet and turned to face Wyatt, covered in your blood, at the point of no return.

“You got my scraps, anyway, you fuckin’ animal.” Wyatt spat.

“You never deserved her. She never deserved what you gave her, and now… this?” Hasil’s face was the embodiment of fury, and he gripped his knife at his side.

The last thing you saw before your vision blurred and turned dark, was Hasil throwing the knife to the ground, and his tired voice as he marked Wyatt with glimpses of your premonition, something you suddenly remembered seeing in your dreams.

“No… you don’t deserve a quick death.”

————————————

You remembered how it felt to be on deaths door, and how it really didn’t feel as bad as you’d expected. You remembered seeing you parents there, waiting.

You’d cried, held them close, but you were confused when they wouldn’t let you go any further.

“It’s not your time, my love.” Your mom had said.

“We’ll still be here when your time comes.” Your dad replied. “It’s very important that you go back.”

And before you knew it, you were sinking. That falling feeling in the pit of your stomach growing quickly until you were suddenly in the medical cabin again, a sense of chaos returning.

Only you weren’t you, you were watching yourself on the bed, colourless and clammy.

Hasil was outside, trying to get in, and you so desperately wanted him to, but he was being restrained, held back, growing increasingly more stressed and angry as G’win worked on your wound and demanded he be kept away.

He was hysterical, needed to be with you, but he’d only get in the way.

You don’t remember seeing it, you were sure you weren’t present for it, but some part of you knew Wyatt was gone, and that there had been a few casualties alongside him.

What you didn’t know was how it happened, or that Hasil had killed Wyatt with his bare hands.

How he’d bare knuckle fought him to the ground, adrenaline pumping through him to the point he was blinded by it, and he snapped Wyatt’s neck.

A gun fight between the Losties and the clan had ensued, but ultimately the Losties had backed down, deeming it not worth any further loss.

Only Hasil swore that if you died, he’d never let those involved rest, and there would be further blood shed, because without you, there was no point to him anymore.

Hasil didn’t know what to do with himself, he felt sick to the stomach not knowing if you’d make it and that he’d been the one to put you in that position.

His knuckles bled, his body ached, but he didn’t care about any of that. Not while you lay there, without him, unsure if you’d even make it. Did you know he was there? That he was trying? Did you remember him screaming that he loved you, or were you already too far gone?

G’win had refused to let him see you, because Hasil had lost it. He couldn’t cope with seeing you like that. He’d been hysterical, and G’win needed him to leave. So now he paced, desperately praying you’d be ok, because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if you weren’t.

Impatient with waiting, Hasil stormed back towards the medical cabin, trying to shove passed the men on guard.

“Isaac, let me in.” Hasil said, his tone warning.

“You know I can’t do that cousin, Bren’in’s orders.”

“If she dies, and I’m not there with her, I will never be able to forgive you. Please? Just… think if it were Missy, what would you do?”

Isaac thought for a moment, his eyes searching Hasil’s as he thought about his predicament.

Nodding slowly, he stepped to the side, letting Hasil into the cabin.

G’win turned to look at him over her shoulder and tutted. Hasil held his hands up in surrender.

“Please… I’ve calmed down, I just… I need to be with her.” His eyes were watering, but he tried to maintain some composure.

G’win sighed, turning back to you. “Okay, I’m near finished anyway.”

Hasil quickly moved to your other side, clasping your hand in his. You were so colourless, and your breathing was shallow.

“I got the bullet out, managed to stop the bleeding some, but Hasil I’m not gonna lie to you, it’s not lookin’ good.”

Hasil pressed your knuckles to his lips, savouring the feeling as he breathed through the panic that threatened to take over him. He let a tear roll over his lash line.

“Bren’in… could I have some time alone with her, please?”

G’win nodded, “I have some others to tend to anyway, take all the time you need, cousin.”

She walked out and closed the door behind her, and Hasil let out a shaky breath, stroking your hair back.

“Oh darlin’ girl, it was never meant to be this way. I’m so sorry, I’ll never forgive myself for this.”

Hasil sniffed as tears began to stream down his face, “You can’t leave, I’m meant to run the gauntlet for you, start a family with you, show you what real happiness is…” he rubbed his face, frustrated with his show of weakness, but his heart was shattering. “If you go, I go…”

He lay his head against your arm, fingers intwined with yours.

He was silent for a while, listening to your shallow breathing, your heart beat that thudded irregularly.

“Don’t you dare.” You suddenly murmured. “Don’t you dare do… anything stupid, Hasil Farrell.”

Hasil’s head shot up, his heart racing.

Your eyes had opened just enough to look at him, and you had a small smile on your face.

Hasil let out a shaky breath and he stood, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m not going anywhere any time soon, Hasil…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about… it’s my fault they even came looking in the first place.”

“I killed him, Y/N… with my bare hands, I killed him.”

You were reminded of your vision, when you stood outside of your body. You remembered dreaming about Hasil holding Wyatt’s face in his hands and snapping his neck.

You felt a twang of guilt as you thought briefly of the times when things were good between you and Wyatt, but then the memories of the bad times hit you again, far more overpowering and more frequent than any good times you’d had, and you felt a sense of relief wash across your body as you looked into Hasil’s gentle blue eyes, love warming your sore body once more.

“Good.”

——————————

- Final Part Here -

Taglist:

@starry-eyed-wild-child @kappasbbgirl @prettylestrange

[its-in-the-woods]

Chapter six (Final for now), Life's Too Short

Chapter one , two, three, four, five, <- if you missed it.

Cooper howard/The Ghoul x Lucy Maclean

Post end of season 1

No beta.. I tried to edit 🫠

Leaving it here from now.

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

This is fluffy and a lot of smut. Biting, riding, finger fucking, leaving marks, screaming.. it goes on. V and P. Deviates from canon clearly.

🚨+18 only - MDN🚨

Slow burn is over!

Please be nice this is my first fic in almost a decade 🫣

Will eventually post on AO3 once I can get access... or where suggested 🤷🏻‍♂️ Like please tell me I am old and don't know things anymore.

Getting out of the Deathclaw’s territory proved to be tricky. Particularly with a Brahma, the beast was not really happy about being dragged along. There was also the Deathclaw’s head strapped to it. Making sure it got water and something sort of like food was difficult. It made the traveling slow.  By the time they got to the next outpost, Lucy was out of water and Cooper was dangerously low on chems. They had gotten a lot of looks as they walked through the big pieced-together gates. Most went back to whatever they were doing. But some stared. Lucy made sure to keep herself close to the Ghoul. They hadn’t really discussed anything since the warehouse, much too busy trying not to die. But something had changed, the leather-cladded man didn’t scoff when she ran into him. Didn’t mind when she snuggled up to keep warm overnight. The idea of a bed and not being hunted by giant damn monsters sounded amazing. 

The head of the Deathclaw that Lucy had blown up hit the front desk of the outpost hotel. Well if you could call the two-story pieced together building that. The small man looked at the head for a moment, then back at the two of them. 

“I am guessing you want a room?” He raised his eyebrows at the two, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. 

Cooper also grabbed a paper from beside the hotel manager's head and slammed it down beside the head. “Also take the caps for its bounty, and where we could offload a Brahma.”

“Well,” The man looked up over his glasses at Cooper. “The bounty is for the full body of the Deathclaw, and the beast can go to the farm east of the town.”

Cooper leaned closer to the little man. “Want me to ‘ive yah directions to the thing? Or should I walk yah over to the corpse ‘yself?” 

The man had tried to lean away from the Ghoul but he had followed him. Making sure his face was within the inches of the man. Lucy bit her lip, something about watching him take charge did-. Well, it made things get hotter in the room. 

The man stammered, “Let me get my manager and we will sort your caps.” 

Cooper stood up and gestured dismissively at the small man, as he scuttled away. Coop leaned against the desk as Lucy watched the door hand on her pistol. The man came back looking flustered and plopped the bag of caps onto the desk along with the room key. Cooper snatched it up, tipping his hat at the man. 

They walked back into the town, Lucy bartered some of her bits and bobs with a merchant getting herself some radaway and a few stimpaks. As well as some better-fitting clothes, and a new poncho. Then she and the Ghoul walked a little ways outside the camp to trade the Brahma. The farm had looked a little flustered but offered to give them a good supply of dried foods and moonshine. They didn’t want to owe Ghoul but a Brahma was something sorely needed. Cooper had accepted the offer as he was not interested in hauling the animal around. 

Then they were back in town with all the eyes on them. Cooper had disappeared into a particularly shady spot. Dogmeat standing guard in the dingy alley. She made sure to keep her wits about her. The place wasn’t bustling but it wasn’t quiet either. Women sneered at her muttering about Ghoulfuckers. It made her stomach flip again. Was it that obvious? After being on the road for weeks, being beaten to shit by various creatures. She figured she’d had to have started to blend in a little. She looked around again. A couple more men had walked out to look at her. She moved closer to the alleyway entrance, her finger on the pistol. 

“Come on Coop, get the chems.” She muttered her hands mindlessly running over Dogmeats soft fur. 

The longer she stood out there the more people she saw looking at her. She licked her lips, they had become permanently chapped at this point. Maybe they'd be callous over time, like the rest of her. The wounds in her back and thigh still ached. The mark on her shoulder had healed, for the most part, but it still aches if she overused it. A hand touched her hip. She jumped hands on her pistol as she turned Cooper’s crooked grin greeting her. Her shoulders sagged as she leaned against him. 

“Come on Vualtie, let's go see what accommodations we got.” He guided her back toward the hotel.

***

Coop locked the door behind them as they got into the room. It was more of a closet with a somewhat functional toilet and standing shower. But at least they weren’t hiding from any deathclaws tonight. Maybe some pissed-off townsfolk but they’d take that as they came. Right now his eyes were on her. He had gotten a nice stash of Chems from the backdoor pharmacy, they had water and some decent food. As far as wastelanding went they were better off than most. Dogmeat had already settled into the bathroom closest to the door. 

Lucy had placed all their weapons within reach and laid out some food. She had even drunk a good slurp of water, and they could get more too. 

“What do you feel like? They said this was mole jerky, but I don’t know how reputable the vendor was. Plus I haven’t seen a mole that wasn’t glowing in a long time.” Lucy rambled, waving the offending jerky in the air. 

“Not really feeling like eatin’ food,” Cooper stated licking his lips. 

Lucy turned her brows furrowed, she looked up at him. “Oh. Well.” She looked back down at the food and then back up at him. He could see her piecing it together. 

“Oh. Oh. Do you mean?” Lucy blushed and looked down at her feet. 

“Don’t get bashful on me, killer. You nearly blew me up with a grenade and dragged me across the desert barefoot. Stripped me down to my unmentionable and pulled out a damn piece of bone out of my chest. You don’t get to play coy with me anymore.” He stated plainly as he walked towards her, his hand tilting her chin up so he could look at those big doe eyes. 

Lucy licked her lips looking up at him. He didn’t know what she saw in him but whatever it was had her melting in his leathery hands. 

He couldn’t fuckin take it anymore his free hand grabbed at her hips pulling her into him. His mouth clashed against hers as he kissed her. Not gentle like the first time, or even the second time. No, this was hungry. The months of being together, watching her move and change. Her lying on the floor of that fuckin warehouse. No, not anymore. He wanted her and he wanted her now. He wanted her more than he had wanted anyone in two centuries. 

She started pulling at his duster fingers, shaking as she pushed the leather off of him. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and dragged it up off of her. She untucked his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Hat falling onto the ground behind them. Lucy giggled and snatched the hat placing it onto her head, before leaning back into kissing him. She pushed him down onto the mattress sliding herself onto his lap. He groaned as she ground her hips down onto his crotch. He grabbed her hips rocking up against her, eyes rolling back in her head as she felt him press. 

He grabbed one of her breasts in his hand rubbing against the smooth flesh there, fingertips rolling nipples that had Lucy biting her hand trying not to cry out. Cooper batted her hand away. 

“No, no, I want everyone to hear you.” He hissed, pulling her down so he could bite at the top of her breast. 

A small cry squeaked out as he left an indent on her skin. She ran her hands over his head holding it against her skin. He rolled her so he was on top, leaving a trail of fresh bite marks that had the Vaultie rolling underneath him.

His hands trailing along the edge of her pants, she tried to wiggle free of her pants but he held her firm. Licking and kissing along the top edge. Tomorrow if her shirt rode up everyone would see the marks. He wanted them to see the marks. To know that her screams came from him. He bit hard right below her navel and she bucked 

“Oh, Oh, dang it that hurt.” Lucy groaned and pushed his head down. 

“Come on darlin’ tell me whatcha want.” Ghoul grabbed at the edge of her pants pulling them slowly down.

“Just-” Her voice cracked.

“Come on. Say it.” He growled, pulling them a little further down. Her hips moving and wiggling trying to get him to take them off.

“I want you to lick me.” She swallowed looking down at him eyes so dark 

The man grinned, yanking her pants down. Leaving her underwear on, he pushes his shoulder in between her knees pressing his face against her. Breathing her in, she smells so good. 

Lucy lets out gasp her knees pushing against the side of his head as her ankles lock behind his head. His tongue flicked out to go over the thin fabric. 

“Come on, tell me. Tell me what you want me to do.” 

Lucy let out a few strangled sounds as her hands grasped for purchase. He sucked at the wetness coming out through the underwear. 

“Say it.” 

“Ohmy, if you-” She choked again as he kept sucking. “Please- ughn- I want to feel your tongue in me please.” 

“Good girl,” He grinned using a finger to push the thin fabric aside he leaned in and ran his tongue along her. She tasted so good, he groaned and sucked on her lips. Before sliding his tongue down using his fingers to separate her folds, she was dripping as licked in there. Her fingers gripped the sides of his head, as her back arched up pushing him forward. He moved his hands under her ass, lifting her hips towards his face. 

“Oh, don’t stop.” She trembled her body, vibrating as he licked inside of her. 

He pulled his head away licking at his tattered lips and sitting back to admire her. Lucy’s legs trembled as he pulled her underwear off, leaning in to nip at her thighs. She cried out as he left a line of marks up where her thigh and hips met. 

Lucy pushed herself up, staring at him, her eyes lidded, lips red and swollen. “If you don’t-”

“Don’t what?” Cooper hummed, taking his fingers to run up and down between her lips.

Her eyes rolled and she shuttered,” Torturing me,” Her words were stuttered and hardy formed as a finger sunk into the wetness. 

“Not torturing you,” He hushed, “No gulper bait here.”

She gasped as he pushed back and up, hitting a soft spongy spot that made her toes clench.

“Motherfucker,” Lucy gasped as her hips started to push down onto his finger.

The Ghoul leaned forward sucking at her clit as he pushed another finger in slowly. Purposefully dragging it out, making her keen and grabbed at the bed as he scissored and edged her. He watched her for a moment more before he began to a steady pace the wet sounds filling the tiny room. Her hips rolling with him, insides sucking him further in and squeezing tightly.

“That’s it, let it go.” He murmured licking and sucking against her clit. 

Her legs began to shake as her fluids gushed forward as his fingers kept going until she was trying to push him away. 

—

Lucy was a puddle, and there was actually a puddle under her ass at the moment. The damn man between her legs was going to kill her. Nothing in her very small sexual history had felt like that.

Cooper rested his bald head against her thigh as he lazily made circles around the bruises. Then he was moving before she had time to recuperate, his pants clattering to the floor as he snatched that hat off her head. 

“Think this belongs to me, little lady.” He grinned down at her, gold eyes almost black as he pushed his hips forward against her. 

Reaching up she pulled him down on top of her, she was so overstimulated but the hard line of his cock against her was making her want more.  Damnit if she didn’t want it right now. She rolled her hips up and kissed along his jaw. She could taste herself on him, they tasted so good together. 

“Fuck me,” She whispered into his ear taking the lob into her mouth, her hand found away between them fingers running over his hard length. 

“Come again,” He grinned and sucked at a new mark along her neck. 

Her toes curled as she stroked him, fingers pushing at the slit on top making his hips stuttered forward. 

“Fuck me, Cooper,” She said into his ear as her hand tried to get him where she wanted him to be.

He leaned back looking down at her like he had never seen her before, as if he was trying to memorize her features. Then he pushed his way in, and both their mouths opened slightly. The girth made her inside ache as he seated himself as deep as he could go. They stretched a hot fire that made her inside shiver. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.” He groaned and began to pull out, Lucy immediately wrapped her legs around his hips trying to get him pushed back in. 

“Nuh-uh,” He grinned as he grabbed her legs and bent her in half. He slid back out and then slammed himself back in making Lucy see stars as he bottomed out. “I am in control here.”

Each word was punctuated with a snap of his hips, Lucy felt like her brain had gone foggy, her mouth hanging open as she pushed back against him. His pace started to increase as he held onto her hips bouncing off of her hips, her breast bouncing. She let her fingers grab at her nipples pulling at them, how was she so close already? Heat spills into her stomach as another orgasm builds up again. 

“I am gonna-” 

He pulled himself out, making her scrambled to try and get him back. The Ghoul placed one large hand on her stomach holding Lucy in place. Cooper grinned from under his hat the tip of his penis sitting right at the entrance. 

“Told you, Princess. I am in control.” 

Lucy growled fighting herself up from under him rolling so that she was on top of him. She grabbed his cock without a second thought and pushed it back in. 

“Oh, oh yes,” Lucy groaned, tipping her head back as she started to move her hips in circles. His hands grabbing at her breast, squeezing, started to move his hips up against her. She tucked her legs a little, hands on his scared stomach pushing herself up and ridding him as he fucked her. 

The heat built as the man’s fingers rubbed at her clit. There was no stopping it now heat uncoiling as her hips moved wet making his dick slip in and out with slick wet sounds. Lucy’s voice came in as she called out his name, her second orgasm making her tremble and bite her lip hard enough that she felt blood. 

Cooper took the opportunity to roll them again, one hand grabbing both of hers and pinning her to the bed. He bit onto her collarbone hard enough to make her wonder if he was going to take a chunk out of her. His hips snapped so quickly as his other hand held her hips close, his eyes rolling close as his own pleasure slipped deep into her. Hips stuttered from overstimulation in jerky motions till he stilled. The Ghoul let go of his bite, a deep mark blooming, his head resting over her pounding heart. His tongue licked out over his lips.

Then he was up, Lucy groaned. Trying to get him to come back, she watched as he walked over to his saddle bag. Muscled body moving swiftly as it dug around for something. She sighed staring up at the ceiling. Her body hurt in many different ways. The marks would be visible for days. Lucy’s fingers came up and felt at the one on her collarbone, clear indents where his teeth had sunk in. Her face flushed realizing that everyone would be able to see that.

The bed dipped and Cooper handed her a bottle, the label was barely readable ‘Rad-x’. Reaching across he also grabbed the flask with water.

“Take two,” He said firmly before getting up again despite her small whines of annoyance. 

She looked the bottle over and uncapped it, taking out two of the pills. They smelled awful, not nearly as awful as some of the bugs she’d eaten. She popped both in and swallowed, they burnt a little but it could have been worse. Sighing she stared at the ceiling, it was stained. Lucy rubbed her face as Cooper came back in with a towel. 

His hand grabbed her ankle and he dragged her to the edge of the bed. She squeaked as he spread her legs and started to clean her. Biting her lip she watched as he carefully wiped her down. Leaning in to kiss the bruises before he tossed the rag into a corner. 

“Thank you,” She giggled, reaching for him, he climbed in dragging her to his chest.

“Anything for you. Life's too short."

I may come back to this, I haven't decided yet. But I like it where it is fo now.  

Let me know! Thanks for reading. More to come <3