#and you think its another bad dream
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triglycercule · 3 months ago
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i know jk fashion au doesn't have any angst and all and i do not plan on ever making it have angst but whenever i listen to kamihikouki by pepoyo i can ONLY think about the jk!mtt. its gotten to the point that im planning on making a drawing of them based on the song after i finish this horror one because they just remind of it,,,, so,,,,, much,,,,,,,
like they wouldnt DIE and be regretful and all that enough to do a group jumping off roof stuff but like. its the sentiment ok its the SENTIMENT. they wouldn't BUT in an alternate universe,,,,, there would be an alternate triglycercule who would see them doing that (probably because i did make jk fashion au to have angst in said parallel universe)
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do you ever think about right after v kisses kerry how he says w dazed disbelief he wants this gorgeous moment to last forever to a dying man and johnny’s remark about ‘kerry never did get it. only one thing worse than unfulfilled dreams— dreams that come true’ and how quietly gutted he sounds and then you think about how how kerry’s always wanted to get with johnny and how kerry only romances male v because it unconsciously or not fits into that fifty year old want for johnny or do you do yo u… do you
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waywardsalt · 8 months ago
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gonna be a hater in tags real quick
#i need to get this off my fuckin chest its haunted me for ages but for some reason rn its bad#i fucking HATE when ppl act like la’s koholin island and ph’s world of the ocean king are/work the same#HATE IT. also hate ppl treating oshus n the wind fish as the same character bc i think its fucking lazy n uncreative n unimaginative#and makes the loz world feel so much smaller. but like. why do ppl act like the world of the ocean king is another dream world#bc its fucking no??? no one in that place is a dream construct i hate ppl acting like linebeck isnt a ‘real person’ just a former dream#construct if they think hes from that world bc its not a fucking dream world its a real ass world at no point is it suggested that its a#dream world just that link n tetra are simultaneously dreaming in their own world that doesnt make oshuss world fake or w/e#its just a different parallel world or some shit where time flows different relative to the great sea go watch the ending dialogue#literally nothing in the game suggests that its in any way like how koholint works besides it being an ocean place#i feel like i see these ideas in l////u shit a lot (ESP ppl acting like linebeck is the same thing as marin) and it feels like. do ppl in#l////u just not look into the games too hard do they not double check canon material or do they just accept shit parroted around#bc its way too consistent for me to think its just some headcanon thing and it PISSES me rhe fuck off if im being real#the oshus/wind fish thing is annoying as fuck already but i DESPISE ppl acting like oshus’ world is a dream its so fucking annoying#whatever ph is harder to play like look up gameplay then. do some research. its not the same fucking thing#ok yeah do hcs sure but i really dont get the vibe that its just some headcanon i feel like ppl just dont know theyre not the fucking same#its not like koholint its more like fucking lorule if anything. god fucking dammit i hate that im so wound up by this shit#whatever. i do wish ao3 let you mute wholeass tags like with authors so i dont have to see l///u shit ever
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thetangibleghost · 30 days ago
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I've always wanted to wake up from a dream laughing and I just did but I realized after I woke up that I have missed a million social cues :((((((((((((((((( it wasn't even funny idk why I couldn't stop giggling. I dont even giggle irl.
#this also may have been a separate dream#i was in this big aquarium swimming and walking around. it was like. you could swim in a lot of the exhibit and interact with the animals#i had some sort of mission and i also found a baby seal who i picked up and was carrying around as i wandered around#eventually i ended up in this little nook that had one of the adult seals/walrusess? so i let the baby go but the adult was not into it and#i heard someone day something like “aw he still has hope”#theres this kid that works at the aquarium and i tell him to come with me for some reason. its around this time i realize this is some movie#the kids boss is like “next time you leave your post you gotta dive out”#and im worried a bit allready sbout him leavin his post with the adult walrus up there.#then suddenly the glass starts breaking everywhere. like one crack then the whole aquarium starts falling apart#and the kid seems a bit worried.#as were all evacuating i decide that its my fault. because the walrus must have been ramming the glass while the kid wasnt watching.#i remember thinking about how this was a movie or something and feeling really dumv#then yhe dream was over snd there was s recap??? in like drawing form and it showed the main character (me) putting a bomb in the center of#the aquarium in some sort of well or something. so. i guess it really was completely my fault in a different way than i thought#then later im at some sort of party or something and then i leave the party for another party or something? and i feel really bad sn#and socially innept the entire time. the person who i think i reconize we start talking and theyre like the first person whos nice to me#and were talking about following eachother on Instagram? or somth#while their scrolling i see a video eith one of my old friends and shes on the news? the headline is like “me and cathy snd the murder#victim...“ or something. and im like ”hey thats my friend“ and the person just shuts their phone off.#any ways so this person lets me hitch a ride with them back to the original party. they get out of the uber super early but its the right#house and the tell the driver that hes lost and the DRIVER gets out. so im like oh i guess this is their car??#and so they drive up to the drive way and three more people start getting in the car and theyre like putting stuff in the trunk#and talking about where to sit and i just start giggling.#and im still trying to participate like i offer to sit in the middle. theres already someone sitting at the front but he gets out and#everytime someone says anything i start giggling??? and like its sunny and everyone is very attractive in a way that o just found so funny#and then eventually two of then run over to this like panel dash board yhing that on a wall outside and like messing with it opening the#glove box and stuff and i just wake up#and immediately upon waking. well first i was like “teehee. i woke up from giggling” then i thought about it and i was like “oh. i was#take the front seat :(#dream log
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britneyshakespeare · 2 months ago
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well in more positive news
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midge is now the proud wearer or friday night date (1960-1964)
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yamikawaii · 2 months ago
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theres just something about being inherently unworthy of love
#the cycle of i need to make friends. i need attention. why would someone bother with me? i dont have anything to give. are we friends? why#arent you paying attention to me? tell me that you love me. but it could never be sincere towards someone like me. i cant be loved.#love isnt real. i am love. i am the only one who loves. it hurts. why cant i be loved? is anyone else real? is this a dream? am i dead? is#this hell? whats real is fake and whats fake is real. its wonderland. rabbits talk cookies make you big or small everyone is so confusing.#do others love me or hate me or feel indifferent? it seems to switch as random. one day you'll adore me the next its as if we never met. and#i have to keep making friends. i cant keep making friends. if i dont i'll end up with no friends. i dont know how to make more friends.#clinging to bubbles floating up scrambling to catch another as it pops so you dont fall. everyone blends together whats what whos who?#in the span of a few years i feel like an immortal tortured with the despair of outliving all their relationships#except everyone is perfectly alive just out of reach. but i cant just talk to people. thats bad. no one wants me. i cant do that to someone.#every bubble pops at some point. i cant find anything sturdier. fleeting bursts of attention are ok for now#but i cant even get that. so what do i do? i want to sacrifice myself to make people like me but i have nothing left to give.#whats the point of me? if i cant love and be loved if i cant find more than a few people who will stay for more than a second. what do i#have to do? please tell me what you want. i'm sure i can do it somehow. can i do it somehow? i cant. i cant. i cant anymore. im sorry. just#forget about me. you dont need me. youll be happier when you dont even know who i am anymore. i can disappear without a trace for you. thats#all i can do. take the weight off our shoulders. im just using you if you think about it anyways. to feed my own selfish desire for love i#never deserved. keep myself afloat while i drag you down. isnt it time for me to sink? in a shark attack punch it in the gills. youll be ok.#more than ok. free. i didnt want to bite your leg but i just needed something anything. i dont know any better and i never will. thats why i#belong in the depths where i cant hurt anyone. i cant do anything but hurt. what more am i good for? what more have i done? what have i done#for you? think about it. think about it. think about it. think about it. think about it. think about it. think about it. think about it.#its nothing.
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dukeofthomas · 5 months ago
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I feel like you were circling it with that post but I haaaate reading/listening to people talk about Jason when they have the view that his character started with winicks red hood. Like something about it just leaks out and I’m like “oh, okay, I don’t have to listen to anything you say because you aren’t even talking about the same guy as me.”
And like yes, exactly like you said, it’s hard to reconcile the two iterations but it’s the result of massive trauma, which I don’t mean to be snobbish about the pop psyche we apply to our blorbos here but trauma does not mean “bad thing” it means “thing is so impactful that it changes your brain” and like as someone who went through a personality shift from being a happy friendly outgoing kid to a teen/young adult with a lot of fear anger and resentment like. It’s just how life is. Part of Jason that we all love to mull over is that you aren’t the same person even after you heal and you’ll never know how it would’ve been if that hadn’t happened but it doesn’t matter because you’re here now and you matter and the way you are isnt wrong. Thats why I think “oops Jason got turned into a kid” fics are so popular, we just all like to roll around in “you’ll never be that kid again” with him.
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Anon you are so correct <3 but i'm also reeling over the fact i didn't even realize the shift from 'happy kid' to 'angry, deeply hurt and traumatized teen/young adult' was something i shared in common with Jason. For some reason jason is a character i relate to so so strongly but i suck at identifying which parts
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mar64ds · 11 months ago
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jealous dreams parallels
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skenpiel · 1 year ago
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AAAAAARGHH!!!!!!!!! OK FINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I GIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i guess i do like dirk now. whatever
#had another dream we were buddies it was cool actually#so. whatever. i cave#i think its just cause he reminds me so fucking much of my friend like it is fucking uncanny how alike they are#so whenever i read his dialogue im just like. hehe thats my friend#also. his first interaction with dave (thing i was crying about last night) is so. funny and messed up and well written and weird#its just. so sad. he was really really looiking forward to meeting him#like......... for his whole LIFE he was looking forward to it#and he finally gets to meet his hero and hes so nervous and trying to stay cool and all#hes just. starstruck. and he was really really REALLY looking forward to that conversation#and his personal hero just. makes it a point to let him know how much he fucking hates being there#hes like god i cant wait to go fight that bad guy and dirk has 2 sit there like#ah........ so hed rather risk his life to a maniac with lord english poweres covered in blood than talk to me............. ahhh...........#its just. YOU KNOWWWWW#its endearing. they managed to make it so painfully awkward#they made it SO AWKWARD!!!!!!!!! even worse than roxy and dave straight up called her hot multiple times#and she in return kept prying for information about his love life#and also even when dave said normal things he was awkward as fuck. he asked a question then just Didnt work with it#like........ isnt the point of getting to know people that you ask a question they answer it and then you talk about that topic awhile?#isnt it like.......... more of a pointer on what you can talk about to keep the other persons interest rather than. a genuine question#urgh anyway i fucking give up. i like dirk So what fucking sue me#hey btw i totally forgot about this when you said it but jade when you told me you wanted to fuck dirk what was that about#hes also gay. thats like a whole Thing even though it isnt#care to elaborate on that by any chance. cause id like some clarification on what you meant by that#mainly...................... what part of that man is fuckable....................................#AHH!!!!!!!! EVIL SPIDER!!!!!!!!
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jvzebel-x · 1 year ago
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🦋
#one of my least favourite media tropes is the 'bad person w a heart of gold' character lmao#i think its a kneejerk response to my inherent belief that when someone tells you point blank who they are you should believe them lmao#but also maybe its projection bc its not like ppl arent always offput by me for one reason or another#w/o ever actually getting to know me lmao.#so like maybe i just have chosen to disavow all versions of having a 'deeper' self in favour of spitting on the idea that i should have to#prove myself by disproving anything w a Deeper Level of Self lmao. maybe im actually just exactly what meets the eye.#perhaps i am not only totally fine w that but genuinely prefer it that way lmao.#... that is all hypothetical nonsense rambling however lmao. what is objective fact is the Bad Person w A Heart of Gold trope#has done as much damage as the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope&i fucking hate them both the exact same amount lmao.#what is also objective fact is that i have now dropped two books in a row bc i refuse to sit thru the plot points of#'im an asshole but pls get to know me its def not fucked up that i take my bullshit out on random ppl like a toddler pls coddle this'#&'no one could ever understand my sad life story that makes me extremely abusive pls fix me' LMAO#ahhh i just need better distraction. between everything going on back home&the unstable weather making my unstable body heave#i have been going rather stir crazy&usually i can get thru like a book a day when things are like this#&starting over twice is Offensive right now LMAO.
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lecliss · 1 year ago
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Started using hoyolab for the rewards you can get in hsr but my god it's baffling how people act on there. It's like I entered another dimension or something. People have to add disclaimers explaining what headcanons are and that they're not a threat and people are legit freaked out and disturbed by headcanoning sexualites like that's a disgusting invasive inappropriate foreign concept they've never heard of and I just saw someone get horribly bullied for editing official art of genshin characters so they would be black. Like. These people would not survive five seconds on Tumblr. It's like anti-Tumblr over there.
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todayisafridaynight · 2 years ago
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but would you say Yakuza 6 is out right bad or just the weakest link?
i'd say it's the weakest link. like it's such a mid game there's no loss or gain by playing nor skipping it- it's a non factor in your gaming experience
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oh fuck lovebomb started playing and it set off my fight or flight instincts
#my post#i hear that opening Wom Wom Wom Wom and sit up straight in a cold sweat#i still hear it in my dreams sometimes#i captain chip do solemnly swear to fuck shit up to help those in need and to be the best goddamn pirates anyone has ever seen we need to#get these pirates inside now did we ever get a name for what theyre called the riptide pirates BAAANANANANANANANNANANANANAA hey guys check#this out YES whos laughing now fuckers fuck you ok if anyone can clear the gauntlet its the riptide pirates get to the center of the prison#thats your out we need to hget him out of here is he even still alive its worth a shot BLOW YOU AWAY gillion youre not actually the chosen#one chip i think youre irresponsible and incompetent and honestly youre a danger to everyone around you chip arlins probably dead and you#need to move on and live for yourself and your own destiny jay i think youre ugly and no one will ever love you gillion i think this place#is playing more than one trick on us its not us chip its this place stay back dont make me do this do what you have to hey there little nei#wait a fucking minute wait drey who put you in here it wasnt one of hey brother you have a lot of explaining to do but come and maybe ill#let them go and what if i dont come with you youd rather be a pirate then i will show you what youre up against you wanna take on a pirate#im right here stop please just stop if i come with you will you let them leave we swore an oath chip its gonna be okay discipline them jay#you wanna know my secret so bad chip i convinced the navy to let me go undercover i was just using you i dont care what you were before thi#youre a riptide pirate now what do you really want jay and just say it so i can fight for it i wanna keep adventuring with you guys gill#thats all i want right now jay because you are my duaghter i will give yoy a headstart but when i catch you you will no longer be a daughte#to me just another piratee BAAAHHH gill youre not going down that easy buddy were not leaving you behindAUAGDSHGH jay my anme is jay ferin#co captain of the riptide pirates im gonna trust my friends were gonna fuck shit up im gonna be the best goddamn pirate youve ever seen#i dont doubt it sureshot
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lobotomysyndromez · 4 months ago
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Ford Pines they'll never make me hate you
#man#hes rotting my brain i think i like him a lot#i havent related this hard to a character in awhile after rewatching it actually like hurts how much i get it#i get WHY people dont like him he is an asshole who didnt get much screentime but i do think sometimes people are unfair#He is a victim in like multiple ways his father was crummy and all that shit with Bill hes literally an abuse victim#and isolated from like human people for 30 years#i mean im not excusing him but i feel like that fucks up a person yk#this fanbase has a need to absolve a character of actions then deflect it onto another instead of like realizing the growth characters went#through#i relate to ford a lot so idk maybe im biased i understand his need for the validation of someone whos bad for you because hey at least you#have someone even if its messed up#if youre teased all your life for being a fucking weirdo whos a nerd you fall into those traps#i get him unfortunately he makes my heart ache#you view yourself as this lone wolf so to say who thinks they dont fit in or are different and youre seen so differently#so when someone fucks up what youre known for in his case like his intellect and dream college yeah youll be pissy#again its not an excuse its reasoning#i wasnt a gifted kid really but i was weird i knew i was weird. Quiet and nerdy and#gross#youll do anything and hang out with the wrong people to not be weird for once#not to mention i deeply deeply understand his vague aro-ness#this is long sorry#tldr ford is me and he makes me sad#wait one more thing i understand his bluntness and tone accusing rude thing i struggle witj that a lot and it sucks
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gamblersdoll · 9 months ago
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so sukuna usually goes for a woman who holds her own in a fight. its believed that he was more attracted and would even become a flirt even mid fight…. tw for sexual themes.
so imagine how confused you would be when you are with yuuji in your dorm and having a nice time and sukuna just stares at you through his cheek, somewhat a glare but smile. in confuses you, almost making you tilt your head.
“im going to put a brat in you.” he says, then suddenly leaving the scene, causing you to fret and be on guard anytime and anywhere. and leaving such a frantic and apologetic yuuji.
whats even worse is if your group were to exercise a curse spirit somewhere and its on you and yuuji, sukuna would definitely take the time to potentially force a switch or convince the poor baby to switch. and sukuna is doing his best to try and wound you– youre fast, and you already landed three good blows on him.
but things do come to an end, you being cornered and having to hear sukuna say the most disgusting things.
“you wouldnt be a bad wife, could make you have at most two brats.” or holding you while you squirm, groping at a fat breast and squeezing, hoping you dont moan. and he goes “these things dont hold you back? i just wanna bite into them… would taste so good.”
it also occurs when you sleep too. the intoxicating feeling of his fingers are still on your skin, he had to be an incubus. but you were suddenly dreaming about him eating your precious fat pussy too, suckling on your clit and have two hands hold your hips down, two hands hold your legs up while he eats you so sloppy. he can always be a messy eater, and he mumbles .. praise?
“havent had good pussy in years.”
“fuck, that brat hadnt eaten you at all ?”
“i demand your cum, i want you to cum.”
and when you wake up your folds are soaked with spit drooling down your ass cheeks. and with your shirt scrambled up and a bra pushed up.. was he in here? was it a dream? you didnt know. why was he so suddenly interested?
its only the next time you saw him, the cut you had given him had scarred up and he smirks at the sight of it. this only caused him to think of little exchanges for you to show yourself raw to him.
“if you land another three blows, ill have you sit on my face.” he said, eyes lidded and his signature grin plastered.
you ended up with a swollen clit, from its poor abuse and with bruised thighs, because he just had to make you sit still while he ate you out.
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darkdemeter · 4 months ago
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THE THREAT OF INTIMACY
⚤ Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Angst — insecure reader and depictions of negative thoughts and fear of sexual intimacy — profanity — SMUT 18+ mdni — virgin!reader/loss of virginity — unprotected sex — hurt/comfort — oral (female receiving) — le dasha of body worship —cream pie — mafia bucky being a huge softy for his wife — I think that's it ✎ 7.4k A beautiful bride marrying the man of your dreams. But when faced with what comes after the vows and first dance as Mr. and Mrs Barnes, you suggest that a particular arrangement be made.
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↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────
It’s not so much of a grand show once the curtain falls. There hangs a greed of mischief and ominous silence. He looks at you, blue eyes piercing the exposed skin of your back, the white gown hangs an elegant silhouette on you. Its embroidered sculpts become melded into the fabricated folds as you stop midst the gate of your saunter forwards, each step a reminder drawing nearer as you do to the bed. 
Did you really have to do this? 
It was an era of change after all. But his seniors were old school, and so you expected him to be as well in the matters of the marriage bed. It is expected of you — the both of you. Your hands fish through the elaborate style of your hair, musing it loose and gaining a comforted scalp as you turn away from the bed and walk over to the large windows that extend from top to bottom, overlooking the twinkling space of stars fallen to earth. 
Being far away from it means you are torn from it. Once you step foot back in that place, you are no longer the girl you once were.
You are now Mrs. Barnes. A wolf among sheep. The queen of the Bratva. A cooperation of mobsters who have bought police eyes and silenced officials of the government. But was this status and power worth what is intended to follow? 
You didn’t have a real choice in the matter. Well, maybe you did. You fell for him, you won’t deny it, and you fell hard for him. Other pickings were not as savoury, nor did they explode with the chemistry you shared with him. But this wasn’t the only factor. 
It’d been clear that your hearts were set on one another. With the subtle whispers into the other’s ear, hugging and kissing, fingers entwined, or the more assuring hand on the low of your back. This intimacy had been a flavour sweet – loving – and you came to embrace these softer textures of your life at his side. His proposal was impossibly expected but even then, you couldn’t contain your surprise and eagerly said yes.
You never gave the thought of what came next exactly. The very intimate aftermath. Until his mother pulled you aside, a smile on her painted ruby lips as she guided you to walk with her through the hedged gardens. That conversation is one you will never forget. Her love is shocking, her devotion to her husband and family, you can hardly stand the thought of not loving her in return. 
But that talk shocked you. 
Half of it because of the gory details she regaled, but the other half because of your own mind. Your poisoned mind that festers with anxious insecurities. 
Of course it’s expected. Your virginity doesn’t exactly wave you as an expert, no matter what talks of womanhood you are subjected to. But by the standard of Mr. Bucky Barnes, his former bachelor days had given him what you lack: experience. 
What if I’m so bad that he’s repulsed by me? 
He’ll only need to take one look at me and that’ll be enough.
What if I can’t make him cum? 
What exactly am I supposed to do— I don’t think I’m ready. 
You continue on in your panicked, internal reverie, hand raised to rest your lips against your knuckles, the shine of diamonds catching in the dark reflection, a momentary blindness befalls you that then causes your stomach to writhe with unease.
“Hey,” your husband whispers, breath warm over the shell of your ear and his lips tease the curve of your exposed neck with light kisses. Your body flinches at the suddenness of his appearance right behind you, his chest to your back; you feel tears deep into the corner of your eyes, hot and wet and annoying. The stronghold of air chokes you in the back of your throat.
“Mm, hi…” 
Your forced smile is quick to fade, just barely passing back a glance at him before looking away. He catches this falter. His expression is shadowed by a troubled frown. He noticed the way you flinched before him. And that glistening of tears is hard to miss when it comes to you.  
“Talk to me,” he presses gently, “you okay?” 
His hands are strong and sure as he holds you, turns you to face him directly now, putting the window to your back. Your ring bound hand massages over your face with a breath hollowing out in a deep sigh. 
“Yeah. I’m good, I think we should get some rest. It’s been a big day.” 
Before you can step around him, his hand circles the entirety around your forearm, holding you in place.
“You don’t want to…” At the trailing end of his words with his blue eyes alluding to his meaning, the sting of tears prick your vision again and a flush paints your cheeks and neck red. He lets you walk away with the train of your dress flowing behind you like a silken shadow. 
“I don’t think tonight.”
Or any other night… 
Bucky’s throat bobs with a thick swallow, nodding as he watches you. Always a man who knows what to do, how to maintain composure — his power — he feels that confidence wane like the fading moon. Powerless.
The words brewing on your tongue are tart, poisonous and unpleasant. Not the sort you would ever want to say to your husband, no less on your wedding night. 
You’d ventured over to the vanity by now, you say beneath a shaken exhale, “I’ll look to hire a mistress.”
“Excuse me?” He gasps sharply. 
Your reply, voice short of anything joking or playful. You sit before the vanity and bend forward, unfastening the golden clasps on your heels before you set them aside. “I’ll have a mistress contracted for you. We’ll do everything else together but she will… provide the sexual affairs.”
“And you?” His question makes you pause midway of turning fully towards the mirror, only barely do you see him trail the outskirts of the room, just only in focus of your view. With a sigh, you pluck your earrings out, saying more so to your own reflection than him, “I’ve gone this long without sex, Bucky. I’m sure I can go on the rest of my life without it.” 
“No, no, we’re not doing things like that. I married you — I want you.” Why is that just too hard to believe? You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes in the mirror, so you look away, anywhere that doesn’t meet his gaze. “Honey, where the fuck did this come from?”
You don’t answer. The man is practically brought to his knees before you like a servant ready to obey you like a goddess. Treatment he committed to you, though you don’t feel deserving of. He spins you slowly on your stool until you face him, knelt before you, he tries to find the stunning awe of your eyes only to find you hiding away from him. “Did somebody say something to you? Who was it?” 
Quick to spare someone needless bloodshed, you stand abruptly, almost knocking him back and storm away from him by some feet, putting distance between you both, your voice carries over your shoulder, “Nobody said anything. I just think this arrangement will be better for us.”
You’re blinking back a curtain of tears that threaten to unleash. A wave rises high like a tsunami in your soul with these stupid, incessant thoughts. 
You’re imperfect. 
You’re ugly. 
Let another woman – a beautiful woman – please him. 
He’ll regret marrying you once he sees you.
Fingers ringing the course of massaging your temples, you are slowly being drowned by many, many thoughts like these. They're endless. They’re relentless and they are loveless. Not once do you give yourself the internal piece of mind that maybe, just maybe, there is hope in this relationship. That they are wrong. That he won’t judge or run from you. But who can say for sure?
It’s best to play it safe and keep what dignity you have left. Despite the spitefulness of seeing him become satisfied by another woman, it would be better than depriving him for the rest of his life. And you care more for his own happiness. It’s all you want for him. 
He speaks up again, his voice going stern in his verbal study. “So, let me get this straight: I marry the love of my life, the very essence I love and breath for, only to… fuck another woman. After I swore a vow to you.” 
“Bucky, you’re making it sound—”
“I’ll go without sex for the rest of my life than have some whore in our bed.” 
You spin on your heel, mouth agape. Finally you look at him long enough as he works to slowly approach you and he sees just how badly you’re hurting on the inside. “Bucky—” 
How quick he is to cut you off before you can even utter another heinous thing, now reaching you. “I wouldn’t stand at the altar for just anyone. I gave up that bachelor life to have you. I chose you. I want to have all of you.”
You mutter, mumble off-centred excuses that come out as broken noises on a record, and then you let out a shaken breath, chest feeling like it's being cleaved and ripped apart to the point your body trembles. You try your hardest to suppress your quiet sniffles as the flow of tears begin, fingers hastefully dapping away as to not smear your makeup; your only means of perfection that you’ve felt in a while.
When you saw yourself in the white dress every little girl dreams of for the first time in a bridal shop far too expensive for the average, then again in the dressing room with hair and makeup done to the nines, it all almost made you forget about the gut-wrenching aftermath once the reception concluded. That you were walking down that aisle with a purpose you would never come to regret. 
Was it all a foolish fairytale to idolise this facade of beauty?
The hand bearing his ring uses a force so gentle you think it’s the end, that when you look up, he will be gone. That your wedding dress will fade into your everyday jeans and grandmother’s patchy sweater you treasure too much to throw away, her scent still lingering there to inhale on a bad day. 
He drives your focus upwards until your eyes meet, your vision hindered behind a blur that wets your lashes as you blink. A vibrant colour of blue that once intimidated you now attends to assure you, to quiet your riled fears, but there is a reluctance to let your guard down this time. 
His hands cradle your jaw in his hold with a promise to never let you go. To never let you know this fear again.
“I won’t judge. I won’t run in disgust or whatever you think I’m gonna do. I think my vows can be credited to that, yeah?” 
Your bottom lip sinks inward slightly, teeth biting down hard on the plump of flesh, muttering a softly broken, “I-I guess.” 
“You’re scared.”
It is shame that brings your eyes to falter, chin wobbling until it crinkles. “Yes…”
It’s like he could read you, knowing that your next move is to shove him off – push him away – he leans down and presses his lips to your own. Warm, a little roughened yet still retaining a softened plush of texture, he breathes some sort of cooling flame that soothes you if not for a short while. A rattled, sharpened gasp teeters on the edge of your voice and he parts from the kiss with a low and silky drawl. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. We can take our time with this.” 
You’re hoisted into his arms, strength unyielding as he carries you over to the bed and sets you atop the mattress like porcelain. For him, he’s scared how easily it is to break you, no matter how hard you hide this fragility. You use the outside of your hand to wipe at your nose and exhale loudly, mind prattling on with your swirling thoughts. 
Pathetic. 
He’ll definitely need a mistress after that display. 
And all you’re better off getting is a toy. 
His family will ridicule you. He’s going to tell everyone that his little wife refused to have sex with him on his wedding night.
Poisonous thoughts. They aren’t going away. With a sniffle, you watch Bucky begin to strip himself down, leaving himself to his boxers. However much you admire the act in itself, it’s far too intimate than anything else. The idea of you doing that for him sickens you. You become repulsed by yourself. 
Your mind is a hideous beast. 
Like you.
Shut up!
You make this wedding dress look ugly.
“Come on, doll,” Bucky’s voice breaks through the hazardous cloud like a lighthouse awaiting for you ashore, guiding you to safety. He offers you a smile you try to match only to feel your lips twitch, muscles cringing as you keep the well of tears and cries inside. He invites you to join him and you move up the bed. You can’t bear to shed the second skin of your dress to reveal the lavish, risque lace and frilly lingerie you’d picked out at the encouragement of your bridesmaids.
You never really gave it much thought before until it was too late. This culture of intimacy you perceive as a threat. 
Your husband doesn’t question you. Instead he lays beside you, arms stretched out to invite you into his embrace. An invite you half-heartedly indulge in, inching yourself awkwardly to his side but remaining to keep some inches from him.
Head laid on the tucked shelf of your arms, hair mused to fall over your features, you intend to wallow in silence until exhaustion overtakes you into sleep. 
You’ve ruined his day.
“What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours?” The question is directed to you, you’re sure. But it also sounds like he’s asking himself for the answer to a riddle he cannot begin to understand. 
“I’m sorry I ruined your day…”
The contortion of his features almost has your body locking up into a tightly wound position, the form of his dark brows bevelling in the middle, eyes widening until the blackened pupils shrink into tiny dots. 
“What?” he sputters, “No– no, honey. This is our day.”
Our day?
There is a storm of emotion battling in his own eyes, however, he is just as quick to hide it from you. He trails again to caress the line of your jaw, his thumb strokes along your bottom lip. “Love, I will never force you into anything. Not your first time, not your hundredth. You hear me, yeah?”
Your eyes only look to stare at him with a stillness, before you absently nod. Then you turn, putting your back to him. You cannot bring yourself to look at him out of sheer guilt that no matter what, he cannot silence the honest and cruel torment of voices in your head. Not forever. They will find something to pick out and gnaw at to send you into this spiral. 
If you could do so without the judgement of your husband, you would cry and howl into your pillow for hours until the perfect mirage of your makeup fell apart, you’d spare the dress from being a ridiculed taint by being on you any longer. You’d be on the phone to your sister pleading for her to keep you company and distract you from this pain, you’d cry into her chest as she held you with all the strength she possessed. You’d ask your parents to call you beautiful, even though it’s a lie. 
But you keep it all in. And it breaks you so harshly on the inside that it cuts you like thousands of shards shredding you apart. 
You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed between the void of silence. You can’t sleep. The tyrannical storm of emotion swarming inside you makes it impossible to even try lest you break and let it all out, letting it show. 
“B-Bucky?” you squeak, clearing your throat and you hear him hum immediately in response, the weight of him rolling over until his body is a ghost along your back. “Can I… uhm, can I ask you something?” 
Aside from the odd hiccup and sniffle here and there, you hold firm to sounding as you were before, the bubbly and playful girl Bucky couldn’t help but tease until you were a flustering mess, the girl who attempted to flirt back only to fumble over your words and proceed conversation with a shy smile. The girl he fell in love with. The one he gladly stood at the altar for. Before the voices.
“Of course, doll. Anything.”
 Nervously your fingers flex and wind together, thumbing the fabric over your breasts, the enclosed circlet of cleavage pressed closely together. You wish you could giggle at the way you caught Bucky gawking numerous times in supposed awe of you throughout the day. He often is like that every time he sees you though, now that you come to think about it. 
Supposedly.
Not likely real…
I’m going to regret asking this, aren’t I?
With a heavy swallow coated heavily in your hesitance, you take a breath in hope that proves to fail to settle your nerves. “You’ve been with plenty of girls before me… you know how to please them, what did…” you pause upon a whimper, “were they all the same?”
The amount of strain behind your vocal cords makes you cringe in disgust. You sound like—
“No, they were all different. Unique to each girl.” You can almost sense the way his head props up to look at you. His eyes staring a cool layer of heat into your back. “Just like you.”
“How can you say that?” Your voice betrays the toxins of a heart and mind poisoned together over far too long. Bucky hears the loathe of self in your words, dry and cynical, unbelieving in his words and your own image. “You’ve never even seen what I look like… you don’t know how I’ll be, I’ve never—” 
Your hands press over your eyes in hope to suppress the tears glassing over your vision. 
“Hey,” Bucky admonishes with a low drawl, tutting you, “hey. I’m not expecting the fucking grandios of perfect sex. I’m expecting you and only you. I want what makes you and your body unique.”
You turn your head to see him, chin wobbling slightly. How he’d crawl through hot coals and glass for you, seeing the beauty of what you see are flaws. He then grins and for a moment, it disturbs you how he could smile when you’re like this. 
“I wasn’t the best for my first time. In fact, I’m telling you–”
“Bucky, no, you don’t have to,” you interject with a stifled cough. You shoot to sit up and your husband follows, chuckling. 
“No, I will tell you I was shit at sex. Horrible. My first time—”
Your hands paw and pat at his mouth to silence him to no avail, your chorus of hiccups and sniffles turn into shy giggles. 
“I–couldn’t–”
You giggle a little louder this time. “Shush, Bucky! No-ho!” 
“Couldn’t even– find the cl—”
Your fingers are a heavenly pillar even as they hold his lips prisoner from speaking aloud. He smirks behind them and plants delicate kisses to them, enamoured by the faint smile on your face and the softness of your eyes. Seeing you cry and be tied to these human emotions makes a fire burn in his chest. Like for the longest time, he’s finally found someone who can make him feel whole. If only he could help you feel the same. In the make of those blue, puppy dog eyes, you crack and scoff out a snort. “New York’s infamous Mob Lord…” 
He beams from ear to ear at the unfinished implication, taking the time to fall so hard in love with you all over again. He leans his forehead against yours with a rumbled, “Mhm.”
Mascara smudged under the barrage of wet lashes and tears, your lips part with a shaky breath. “Bucky?”
He hums again, so you press on, throat suddenly tight. “Do you think you could make me feel that way?”
His response is instant, deep voice trailing along the bridge of your neck, much like it had done earlier as his arms circle the lower curve of your arse and hoist you until you balance atop his thighs, keeping his weight on his haunches. “Moya zvezda, that and more.” 
Your arms drape over the burly muscle of his shoulders, breath mingling with his in hot gusts laboured with anticipation, you hear him groan as you ever so slightly lower your hips against his and he pushes you that little higher on the pedestal he holds you on, it’s height greater than any earthly accomplishments men can dream of. 
It’s why you’re his star. 
I love this man.
With all my heart. 
His front presses fully into you, he works to weave one hand beneath the shower of your gown and feeling along the sheer stocking attached to your garter; he groans again, more feral sounding in his sensational marvel of how perfect you are. How blessed he is to be the one to touch you like this. To hold and have you so intimately. 
At his touch, your body erupts with a shudder, momentarily staggered by the electric push and pull and thriving buzz between your legs; though the stir of arousal isn’t foreign to you, it certainly is a stark contrast with his attentive action. 
His lips smother the embers of your trembling gasps with a kiss, passion tasting as a fine wine on his tongue. The kiss is paced slowly to attend to your cautious nature, an utter surety that he won’t make any move against you. You take no part in stopping him as he pushes aside the obstructive barrier of your panties. 
The way his fingers are gentle to stroke your core has you keening, teetering on a choked whine, his work deliberate in focusing on the pearl of your sensitive clit and the slickened beginnings of your folds. His hands that have sinned many times now amend themselves with the purity of worshipping every inch, exploring you with the intent to please. His thumb rolls in drawn circles, eliciting from you mewls and heated pants of air too heavy to stay in your lungs, cooing at your slow induction. 
“Atta girl.”
I’m alright. 
“You’re doing amazing.”
I’m safe. 
His two fingers run along your entrance, causing your spine to arch slightly and he smirks, pulling from the kiss. 
“You like that, doll? Yeah?” he asks smoothly, seeing you nod shakily with eyes half lidded. 
Your hands entangle themselves to the bedded roots of his hair, tender as you can to pull with each spark that has your stomach tying knots and your muscles tensing, his thumb begins to roll a little harder and faster. At hearing the apparition of a moan escape you, he applauds you with his encouragement despite the way your hand covers over your mouth to silence these noises.
“Fuck, please again, zvezda. Please.”
“I want to hear you.”
“Please… fuck you sound so beautiful…”
In your stun over his pleas, your hand lowers away and you continue to let your moans lull him, hips moving at a slow crawl against his fingers that press to your core and with a single look you let him know you’re willing. He fights the tantalising grip of your fingers to reach your lips as he pushes two fingers past your folds. Your gasp is a sharp sound to his ears, one of alert that he seeks to comfort you through the kiss.
The trajectory to pull your hips away stabilises and you begin to find that rhythm with each grind and thrust onto his fingers, the waves of pleasure coming from your clit has your stomach tightening. 
“B-Bucky…” you whisper and he swallows your words with a deep moan. Your walls clench around the intrusion of his fingers, moreso when he adds a third, curling them as if to beckon your body furthermore to his touch, to yield your fears and let him set alight that bloom inside your core and unto your bliss. 
You pant harder, “B–ngh… Bucky… th-there.”
“Right there?” He asks with a sultry grin. Your voice comes out in a strangled response. “M—mhm.”
The voice of your whine is his commandment. He installs a level of dedication at gently fucking you with his fingers right where you needed him – wanted him. That swell inside you grows and grows, furthering into a maelstrom that leaves your body shivering, unexpected of where this sudden burst will implode. 
“Good girl, you’re doing so well, doll,” he praises with a low timbre, groaning with a prided grin when you tug a little harder at his hair, your softer nature betraying to act out this darker side of yourself; this almost forbidden wanton. 
I feel…
Your hips move to become greedy and much to Bucky’s approval, feeling the swollen bulge of his cock straining against his boxers has you weak and some instinct to move against it drives you, a louder moan slipping past your lips. Bucky’s mouth leaves a heated trail of passionate nips and teasing flutters of kisses against your neck, spoiling you. 
You gasp and your hands fly to his shoulders to hold you at bay, the sudden shockwave a prelude to ride as your orgasm ascends upon you, he hears the feverish whimpers you make and he purrs, pumping his fingers, “That’s it, love, let go. C’mon, let me feel you cum for me. I’ve got you.”
The suppression of a scream hides in your chest, leaving only a choked sob to rack through you as you thrust and claim your first release, a hot flush of white behind your eyes blinds you, your muscles convulse in tensing and relaxing as you ride out your high. 
Your arms that wound around his shoulders squeeze a little tighter in your recovery, your breath timed to slow down after a few minutes but your body remains to quiver against him. The form of his aroused cock clear and unhidden has your core weeping for more.
“There you go, that’s it,” he coaxes softly with a smile while he eases a kiss to the corner of your lips, “how’re you feeling?” 
“G-good… really like… wow.” The words come out jumbled to you, as if you were still influenced by the strong wine at the reception, having made you reserve your consumption to a very limited amount. 
Bucky hums and withdraws his fingers, leaving you to mewl at the loss. The sight before you has you in some chokehold, a crimson heat flushes into your cheeks and down your neck, rendering your blood into fiery rivers beneath your skin, a sudden jerk picking up in your heartbeat as Bucky cleans the slick of your release from his fingers, the crystalised shade of blue dimming with a certain darkness as the taste of you rolls over his taste buds. 
He’s tasting me…
He moans with a thunderous growl. “Fuck… you taste amazing,” he grins, teeth gleaming with that cute, charming esteem. 
I do?
The warmth in your cheeks glows ten fold, bringing a sight for Bucky to admire. That cute girl who’s face becomes rosy with embarrassment. It’s like he could read your mind and the way he says your name has you at a loss of breath, drawing your attention back to the shine of his eyes. 
“You are exquisite…” 
Following in action as the continuation of his proclamation, his hand finds the spine of your dress and upon reaching the apex between your shoulders. He seeks to pause and his eyes seek out your permission, brows slight to bevel. “May I, Mrs. Barnes?”
The crescents of your palms brush the exterior of his stubble, every inch of your hands covered by the sensational prickling that leaves you like putty. How he stares at you with this amass of love and fondness that feels overwhelming at times. 
He’s just so… perfect.
The return of tears glasses over your eyes and you smile, brightly and toothy and nod, cupping his jaw in your hands before you press a softened kiss to his lips. You feel it in unison with him; it steals the breath from you both. 
“You may, Mr. Barnes.”
With your approval, he draws the zip undone. Anticipation lines your nerves like a trail of gunpowder ready to be set ablaze. He’s testing the waters, ensuring that this is what you want and when you give no indication of refusal, he glides the dress from your shoulders, revelling in the delicate sculpt of your body; the warm, ambient light hitting the surface creates a heavenly glow upon your skin. With the overhanging light above, it frames a golden halo around you as his sights steer upwards. 
Your gown drapes a sultry form over you, accentuating the mounds of your breasts pushed close together and the nakedness of your shoulders and neck. Bucky growls under a vice of hunger. But something lays in the glassy waver of his stare. 
“Please be real?”
His voice barely rises above a near shattered whisper. A man who fears losing you just much as you fear losing him. His voice pleads with you. Your lips part, jaw coming to drop slightly as your eyes widen.
Please be real for me?
“I-I am, Bucky. I’m real…”
The man before you exhales loudly, gasping for breath to keep himself drowning. “Good. Because I want this to be real.”
He doesn’t waste another moment. His mouth clashes against yours, hunger succumbing as he ravishes you with the heated intensity of his kiss, tongue running a pleaful line along your bottom lip. You part them and he awakens the stir of arousal flooding through your veins, tongues dancing in an artistic battle for dominance he undeniably wins. You moan a muffled song and he drinks every lyric of it, intoxicated by it. 
His hands are wild in their exploration, peeling your dress lower to reveal the laces and frills of your lingerie, not permitting you to shy away and hide from him this time, his hands feel every inch of it, mesmerised by the way it fits to you so beautifully that even the most talented of sculptures would struggle to capture your raw and enticing beauty to its complete and apex design. 
Your hands scour to claim the roots of his hair again. This time, you hold no restraint and he loves it. He loves the radiance of confidence you find in every following second. You are claiming what is rightfully yours as his wife. As his one love that he will kill and die for without question. Though time and mortal breath dares to intrude and part you, you find ways around the schemes, momentarily gasping for air within the clash of your lips, too far entranced to pull away. 
His hands glide up your sides until his thumbs are able to tease your stiffened nipples through the thin fabric, groaning at the noises you create from it, his touch sending those blissful tingles throughout your body. When time comes to see you both departed from your kiss, you each still remain to linger, tasting one another in the inch spared between you, chests heaving madly and brushing together. Dress pooled to a rolled belt over your waist, Bucky drinks in every detail of your body. 
Why does he look at me like that? 
His nose buries into you, nestling into the warmth and softness of your body as he utters phrases of praise to your skin, a trail of his devotion painted upon your skin with the invisible ink of his love and adoration for you. 
“You feel what you do to me?” he asks, strong hands guiding your hips down to roll in unison with his, the swollen mound of his erect cock still suffering in confinement has you hiccuping in your stun.
Though your voice is light, you nod as you answer. “Yes.”
“That’s how fucking hot you are,” he says with a deep, velvety drawl, his words slightly muffled by the way his mouth caresses you. “You have me so hard right now, fuck, the things I wanna do to you, doll.”
His confession has you blushing. 
He can’t possibly mean that…
He can’t help himself. He’s a man enslaved at your whim. Though you try to bring this madman to his senses with an embarrassed huff of his name, he only leans in to claim your lips with his, the melding of hunger brings you both into that feverish haze again. Tongues entangled with one another, Bucky’s hands paw and pluck the garments of your lingerie from your form, peeling away the details of floral patterns and lacy sheer to feel the heat of skin below, the way your muscles twitched under his touch. 
You moan between the kiss and allow your hands to feel the soft tresses of his hair between your fingers, carefully weaving through the darkened locks and nails scratching at the roots against his scalp, a rumbling purr escaping him. 
The rock of your hips move together, a desiring fire burning in your core to the point it borders on a painful ache between your legs. Your dress is discarded, left aside with your undressed garments to be reclaimed at a later time. He lays you on your back, your head nested atop the plush cushion of the pillows, bodies flush together without leaving so much as a morsel of space apart. 
Entrapped by his lustful kiss, you thrust and grind your heated sex against him with shocking eager, a whine is tugged from your throat, unsure.
Bucky is quick to assure you of your arousal, that its intoxication is a vice wanted. He uses one arm to support his weight above, caging you, as his other takes hold of your thigh and gropes at it fervently while somewhere in the mixture haze his boxers are tossed aside. His swollen tip oozes with glistening, droplet streams, his size heavy and long that has a gasp escaping you. 
W–will he fit?
Such worrisome thoughts are snuffed out like speckled embers as he deepens the kiss, tongues gliding together and moans and limbs entangle. His tip brushes over the sensitive spot of your clit and your hips take languid actions against his practised thrusts. 
“It’s going to hurt at first,” he mutters across the skin of your jaw, “but it won’t for long. I’m right here, moya zvezda, I promise.”
A crystalline glint appears on the waterline of your eyes, a tender smile on your lips as your lips connect with a chaste kiss. 
“I’m ready, Bucky…”
His blue eyes take the time to carefully read your expression. For a man so immersed in being so gentle and caring with you, you have come to know that with the very same hands he caresses you with – he has broken jaws, bloodied and bruised noses and strangled the very life of more than one person. He can tell when a man is lying just by looking into his eyes. 
He sees you’re telling the truth. That you want this with him. You want him. Cock nudging at your folds, you push your legs a little wider to better accommodate his size after hearing him chuckle at the crimson blush creeping into your face, flustered at the thought of his entire cock sheathing inside you. 
“Gonna fit all of me, my sexy little wife?” he’d teased with a wink. 
His eyes retain their focus with yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your cunt, meeting the slight of resistance and surged forward, a sigh heavily laced on his breath that has his head bowing to press his forehead to yours, eyes scrunched tightly. 
A hitched note on your throat is silenced, cut out with a high pitched whine as he sinks deeper and deeper, breaching past the wall of your hymen. Your nails mark their bite into his shoulders and down his back with angry red scars, tracing over the blackened inks already imprinted there. 
Your walls constrict around the intrusion of him with a searing pierce that brings your tears to streak down your temples, chin slightly trembling, you feel Bucky’s lips hover over yours. 
“O-ow,” you mewl, “It hurts…”
“I’ve got you, zvezda, I’m here.”
Your chest feels tight, suffocated, but his words comfort you. You cling to him tighter, thighs trembling at his sides and you feel his hand resume its place there, gentle to knead and rub soothing circles as he coaxes you through the blight of your pain. 
“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he whispers to your lips, the crinkle of a smile forming on his features. Just as quickly as it had come, the pain subsides and you feel so full at the point where your bodies meet, you finally nod for him to continue. 
He goes slowly. 
He sets a rhythm paced to ease you into the forcing motion of his cock gliding through your hot, velvety walls that clamp and shudder with each movement he makes. Your gasps turn to softly sung moans as you begin to grind your hips to meet his and he smiles down at you. “There you go, love. That’s it, you’re taking me so well.” 
“This body… so perfect, so beautiful… I love it, I love you.”
Another moan escapes you. He heaves a deep breath with every thrust, still focusing hard to keep this steadiness, until you moan for him, 
“Bucky… please, I-I need…”
“What do you need, love? Tell me.”
“I– need more– please.”
He groans, the thought of ruthlessly fucking you with abandon crosses his mind in flashes, the way you’d look spread out while being pummeled by his cock that ruts into your pretty pussy until you’re stuffed full of his cum that it overspills as a creamy ring around his girthy base. 
To fuck you the way of a mafia lord. 
“You want that, sugar?” he asks, his voice sudden to drop lower into a silken, deepened purr with a darkened smirk. “You want to be fucked the way a mafia queen should be? H–hmph, you want it harder? Faster?”
You choke on the release of your words, sounding breathless, “Y-yes!”
Your walls clench tight around him, a series of moans spilling from your parted lips as he then picks up his pace, the incentive of your permission driving him to thrust harder, his hand fists and squeezes the flesh of your thigh within his grasp, holding you fast to him as he strikes deeply into your pussy. His muscles bend, curve and tense and your hands greedily explore every single portion of him, granting you this chance to be upheld by the prison of your thoughts that may hold you back later.
You howl, whine and cry – all for more, for him to keep going, to not stop. His body arches over yours, hands now ahold of you at the hips he uses the advantage of his strength and position to forcefully piston himself back and forth, back and forth until you’re writhing beneath him  Your hands attach themselves to the veiny reins of his wrists, your hips arched up until your lower half is lifted for his leisure to fuck into that spot that has you seeing an galaxy of stars.
“Bucky– Bucky, oh Bucky!” you cry out. 
“Fuck— yeah baby, fuck you sound beautiful, shit— baby, keep screaming my name, I want to hear you.” Each word is intensely laced with an exerted breath or guttural groan. “Fucking hell, zvezda, you look fucking amazing like that—” 
“You’re taking my cock so well.”
“I’m never getting over the sight of this.”
His eyes burn with lust at the sight of your breasts bouncing without restraint, the shudder of your body with each clash of your thrusts, how your face contorts so beautifully with pleasure and the holstered grip of your legs hooking around his waist repeatedly only to falter each time after several pumps, only kept upright by his hold. A knot coils inside you, a tidal wave of pleasure coursing through your veins that sets your nerves aflame and your vocal cords to strain with every sound you make. The more and more he slams his cock into you, your neck is forced to arch back against the pillows with a pleasured shriek. 
You call out to him, “Bucky, I— I’m gonna… ah!” 
“Cum for me, doll, I wanna feel how tight your pretty pussy is around me.” Your back arches further as his tip continues to hit that spot and the sensational toying of his thumb rolls on your clit, eliciting a flourish of sparks to ignite until you’re suddenly overcome with a flush of white, that euphoric hit crashing over you while heat pours into every inch of your skin with your eyes rolling back.
You chant his name like a sacred prayer, the meaning of your vows imbued within your slurred, intoxicated mantra. He pants, hot and heavy in your ear,
“Shit, shit— fuuuck, baby— ‘mgonna cum, gonna cum for you. I want my seed in you, I want it in you so bad.”
His thrusts increase, the sound of skin slapping skin is erotically loud. You don’t want it to stop. You don’t want him to stop and so you beg him to keep going. 
You continue to whine, low and cooing, walls stretching and clenching around him, milking him of his release that sweeps over him with a long, baritone and throaty moan. His head presses into the crook of your neck to suck at the skin of your collarbone, marking you with dark bruises of his love and possession as he paints your pussy with his seed. The air is faintly filled by the sound of oozing slick of your combined orgasms that leak and drip around his still thrusting cock.
The erratic pace in which his rhythm held eventually wanes, instead he moves to a slow-crawling grind to ease you off your combined highs. His chest rises and falls and you allow your eyes to admire his form above you, A balance of skin and ink layered in a thin coating of sweat, as is your own, the muscles of his body rippling with each motion he makes. 
His hands release from your hips after he’s lowered you back down to the bed, allowing your body to succumb to the exhaustion undoubtedly taking hold of you. Your gaze meets his own, the colour of them haloed by the shine of tears and his heart yearns for you. 
He fears he’s done something wrong and his hands quickly raise to caress your face, thumbs stroke over your cheeks. 
“Moya zvezda, are you—”
“I’m…” you trail off, blinking rapidly to see him through the watery veil and you grin up at him and nod. He’s relieved to see that smile, coming to mirror it himself. 
She’s okay. My girl’s okay.
You reach your hand up, the warmth of your palm contrasted by the cool adornment of your ring. Bucky leans his face into your touch. “You stayed… you didn’t—” Though your words fail you, Bucky sees what you mean to say in your eyes. 
“Of course. You’re everything I ever wanted…” Your brows furrow, touched by the sincerity in his words. Before you is a man whose heart is held in your very hands. And his heart is one you wish to cherish, hold dear and never break. To think you almost bargained him off to another woman— 
“Have me again tonight, zvezda. Have me any other night. I promise, I will be there every time, every moment.”
He doesn’t want a mistress. He wants me. 
Those voices are gone, replaced by newer, kinder ones.
You’re perfect. 
You’re beautiful. 
I’m not scared anymore. Not with him. 
You now realise that intimacy was never the threat. The voices in your head were. 
THANKS FOR READING!
✎ a note from the author, Did you want some tissues?
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