#i will be thinking about this piece forever i fear
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anistarrose · 16 hours ago
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[ID: art of Lucretia from The Adventure Zone. She's a slim Black woman with dark skin and white braids, wearing a flowing white and blue dress. Her eyes are closed, and her braids blow in front of her solemn face, as she floats in the air with her arms spread. The symbols of the first six Grand Relics float in an arc over her head, with a spot for a missing Relic directly over Lucretia. The Bureau symbol is in the background, and the lighting has a red tint. End ID.]
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an entry for taz lady week day 1 - favorite female character! 
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rebouks · 5 months ago
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The first day of the new school year began much the same as any other; being accosted by the hallway monitor for dawdling, having inappropriate footwear and daring to possess yet another pair of headphones, only for them to remember who he was and abandon any hopes of receiving an explanation, or an excuse.
Robin thought he would’ve outgrown his selective mutism by now, but apparently, it didn’t work like that. He’d eventually seen a therapist a few years prior, but the poor man didn’t exactly have a handbook for “strange child who can’t speak sometimes due to other people’s overwhelming head voices but won’t/can’t explain himself to anyone other than a ghost who’s stuck in his attic” so, it’d fallen a little flat. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; but the older he got, the more he started to think he’d been using his gift as a convenient excuse for some of his issues. Maybe. Possibly.
Much less bombarded than when he was little, Robin could usually tune out the everyday chatter within surrounding minds, though he rarely did. He’d become far too accustomed to being nosy, and at this point it was weirder NOT to hear everyone else’s thoughts. It produced an intense itchy feeling that was almost impossible to ignore, as though he’d miss something important the moment he stopped listening.
As a result, Robin struggled to live in the moment, and for himself; constantly juggling other people’s thoughts and emotions as well as his own. Sometimes he wondered if he’d understand his brain better if it belonged to someone else, like if he could observe it from a distance as with everyone else, it’d make more sense-.. or maybe paying more attention in Mr Fitzherbert’s biology classes would help. He supposed he was still overwhelmed after all, just better at hiding it.
Either way, he wasn’t about to admit to all this nonsense out loud, especially not if it landed him in Doctor Abbott’s office again. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out how weird he actually was, least of all a psychologist. Think of all the experiments they’d want to do, all the prodding and poking-.. or worse. Robin shuddered at the thought. No, thank you!
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Previous // Next
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jojolymes · 4 months ago
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france from hetalia is just older sanji if he had stayed on momoiro longer
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bacchuschucklefuck · 8 months ago
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Can you expand on what you mean by Baron being "too cool" to really fit a horror monster? It's a very interesting concept and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Is it that they're too active/involved/tangible and it detracts from their scariness?
I feel like I should preface this with a wall of disclaimers lmao 1/I am a hardcore, down-to-the-marrow, avid, deeply sincere horror enthusiast, esp. horror creatures. this usually means my mileage is vastly different from the average populace's, and my scaredy bone has been disintegrated by longterm exposure. most things in a piece of horror media won't scare me! so I practically never use that on its own as the scale to talk abt horror experiences, but when something does scare me it's always a special occasion to be treasured. 2/canon d20 is never really meant to be horror horror, and for good reasons: it doesn't fit the company's output, it takes a kind of carelessness in production estimation that is always a huge risk, it's often vulnerable in a way that kinda goes against how TTRPGs usually facilitates vulnerability, and for most people it's just! stressful! d20, even with the "horror-themed" seasons, generally just plays with horror tropes and stays focused in its goal of being a comedy improv tabletop theater show. 3/fantasy high's chosen system is DnD, which as I've mentioned before is before all a combat-based game system, which means the magic circle of play is drawn based on stats that facilitate and prioritize combat. want or not this affects every interaction you have in the game, and given fantasy high's concept from the ground up (everyone's going to school of DnD stuff to get better at DnD) it's doubly relevant. 4/This Is Fine I have no quarrel with this. my meters are internal, I do not ask this show to be anything it doesn't advertise itself to be, and what it is is fucking great! I like it! when I expand on this ask's question it will be like a physicist going insane in a lab. that's the mindset we're going in with.
disclaimers done. my stance on horror as a genre is that it's a utility genre rather than a content genre or a demographic genre; it is the discard of narratives. it's the trash pile. horror, above being scary, is about being ugly and messy, it's the cracks on the ground any story inevitably steps over to stay a genre that isn't horror. the genre's been around long enough to develop a codex and a general language that medias and makers and enthusiasts of the genre can use to talk about and build onto, but if you go into individual pieces there's really no unifying Horror Story. one person's beautiful life can be another's horror story, it's just how it is.
this makes The Monster a deeply intriguing piece of the genre. thing is a monster is in a decent percentage of any story - it's just when the antagonist force steps into something past a certain line traced out in the story's world. monstrousness is in pretty much every western fantasy story, it's in any story with a hero and something to vanquish or win; more than anything it's a proxy of that thing up there. the line in a narrative's world. the monster is the guard of the unknown lands, where heroic, civilized people don't tread.
what does this mean in the context of horror? the genre is about that perceived lawlessness, that "unknown land" so to say. we're in the monster's home. that's the literary context that we often walk into a horror piece with; the monster knows more than you about where you are. it may not understand you, but it holds more information than you, and with that it moves swifter than you, has more covered than you, and is more assured in its existence in this context than you. it's a struggle to catch up to it, it's nigh impossible to get one over it, and you're never sure it'll 100% work, because you just don't have the information necessary to.
with that framing you can kinda see where I'm coming from here: horror's often about the breaking of rules. I always think a monster's most effective when it breaks well-established rules of both existence and visual storytelling. think Possum (2018) or Undertale's Omega Flowey or the Xenomorph Queen - unique change in medium, unique change in graphic, unique change in design language, etc. in that sense I actually really like how canon baron plays out: they don't really function like anything else in the fantasy high universe, the bad kids have not managed to kill them when they've felled literal gods, their domain in fhjy literally introduces new mechanics to encompass their existence! from an experience design standpoint they slap mad shit. BUT! I can't help finding their character, like as a character riz (and the other bad kids, eventually) interact with, to be very... coherent? in design. this is kinda hard for me to articulate in words, it's more often a sense you get once you've looked at enough of these scrumptious fuckers, their general design and the way they show up is just kinda too clean, so to say. always kinda newly made? fresh unboxed. it, once again, makes sense for their lore - they are looking for more about themself from riz - and their function - they're an antagonist in a game experience, they're meant to be interacted with in a way that produces results and meshes with the existing magic circle - but that shininess takes away from the implied history they should have dominion over and the person they're haunting doesn't.
from another angle there is kinda something there about how put-together canon baron is as a concept; the domain they call home is riz's deep-seeded fears, extremely vulnerable things he's drawn borders around to quarantine and refused to walk into. things that from his perspective would irreversibly shatter certain pleasant fictions his world is built on top of. canon baron, While Extremely Cool, I feel is kinda too neat to connect with and signify the apocalyticized mess that'd result from this paradigm shift. the part where they're in riz's briefcase and looking through every mirror is Very Cool And Fucked Up! but ultimately the show draws a line around them as well, by making game-physical, tangible spaces they're in (the mirrors and the haunted mordred manor) and put riz and the bad kids there only when they need to confront stuff. riz is meaningfully narratively away from baron's unknown land for most of fantasy high.
with that and all of my disclaimers in mind my conclusion here is if canon baron wants to be a Horror Monster they'd have to cross way more lines. be a Lot more invasive. hence (holds up my class swap baron like a long cat)
#ask#not art#tldr a lot of fantasy high's and d20's nature plays against having a Horror horror piece in it. there's no space for emptiness or dread#that's one of the most attractive things to me about horror. the monster signifying a new world you don't understand#you see something on the deserted streets and you realize: oh. the world doesn't work how I've been thinking it does#if u've noticed how much this has in common with queer experiences haha. yeag#man. actually I should also put the I Am Not White disclaimer in there too lmao a lot of the notion of The Monstrous is! traditionally#about maintaining and upkeeping a ''social order'' (read: the powers that be)#and a Lot of Wilderness Fiction is deeply and maliciously colonialist#so when I say ''the unknown land'' and ''the monster'' I am pretty much speaking From one of those unknown lands#and from the position of one of those monsters#the fear of the monstrous is so very often the fear of being consumed by - or becoming - the monstrous yourself#and well. when you're already there in the eye of the zeitgeist. You Can Do What You Want Forever#all that to say it Is important to me that baron is made of riz's lies. even more so in this funny class swap thing I make for fun#like as a horror protag he makes me insane. he loves lines! he loves lines he drew himself. he replicates these borders in himself#that mirror the world he lives in that's so hostile to him. that kid Loves rules. he bows to even the ones that hurt him#like. u get where I'm getting to right I did make a whole comic kinda near this subject he's Already The Other#baron is a monster's monster. baron is a mirror image. GODs I cant help but wish they were messier#it's kinda why I make class swap baron to be like. an ever nearing realization. like I warble abt all this but I genuinely do also find#canon baron to be just as visually coherent and thematically perfect as riz if not more. it's hard to beat how cool the mirror stuff is#it's hard to beat that doll face in iconic visuals! I have to strike according to my strength rather than trying to beat canon#so instead of reflection it's captured moments. instead of a blank face it's the lack of one. mmm. maybe I'm just kinda breaking things#for fun also but that's My prerogative in my house awooga <3#well. thats kinda my thoughts on the general subject. thank u for listening. I will bake something soon dyou want some
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technikki · 1 year ago
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YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS THATS RIGHT ITS ART SUMMARY TIME. OH YEEAAAH
tpn is definitely one of the longest fixations i've had in a very long time, these kids mean soo much to me and have helped me branch out with my art in really fun ways. i'm really happy with where my style is now, and heres to another year of drawing the same damn anime characters <3
2022 | 2021 | 2020
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love-songs-for-emma · 11 months ago
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am i going to single-handedly create a fandom about jay holt from the video game "as dusk falls"? i just fuckin might
#i Cant stop thinking about him. ive literally been dreaming about him. i Need to help him. please#hes just a fuckin kid!!! (18?? 19??) hes a TEEN and his family is FUCKED and its not his FAULT#none of this was his fault. he deserves so much fuckin BETTER#also i thought i didnt care about vanessa but then shes got dead brother trauma hi hello hiiiiii#and now jay does too#fuck my LIFE#ive never been one for self-inserts but actually me jay and vanessa hang out regularly in a tree house we built#we laugh and shoot the shit and talk about what losing our brothers have done/are doing to our psyche#as dusk falls#jay holt#vanessa dorland#new hyperfix u say ? this one will be brief hopefully. bc the game is fucking. unfinished. stupid ass cliffhanger ass bjtch ass#plus im rewriting canon so jay has a good young life. no timeskip for MEEE#maria is literally just rambling. hi#.txt#the only fic ive ever written/outlined was about alana bloom from nbc's hannibal & she Deserved a rewrite#but maybe i need to indulge in writing jay holt's better reality TOO#theres a quote. hang on. a quote from a beloved piece of media. why cant i recall what its from rn#but theyre talking about different timelines n shish and one of them says ''maybe this *is* your best reality'' and its SO sad. fuck#is it hannibal. i feel like its always hanniba#no but also i feel like its not???#its like ''this is your best life. youre not getting a better one''#what the eff is that. im gonna be stuck on this forever#EDIT: IT IS FROM FUCKING HANNIBAL. BUT ITS GODDAMN FREDRICK CHILTON OF ALL PEOPLE WHO SAYS IT#''The optimist believes we live in the best of all possible worlds; the pessimist fears this is true.#This is your best possible world Will. Not getting a better one''#fucking CHRIST chilton#lines that go HARD
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coldshrugs · 2 years ago
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perhaps 💗 + estinio if you’re feeling it <:
thank you dani!! i am always feeling it 🥴
💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft || 790 words || allusion to nudity/sex, but it's really just morning-after mush.
The sun winks between thick, velvet curtains, the single sliver of light determined to fall across Estinien’s face. The rest of the room is still comfortably shadowed in early morning gray. Realization creeps into his senses like the unusual warmth spreading from the source beside him. He wakes fully, trying to quiet the thunder of his heartbeat in his own ears.
Io is loosely curled on her side, ink-blue hair draped across both their pillows and covered only by his sheet bunched around her waist. She sleeps soundly, unaware of his quiet observation. 
This is the first night they've shared a bed–among other firsts.
It replays in his mind, fragmented and out of time: a dozen images–remembered sensations–of her hands on his body, her just parted mouth, his patient ache for her soothed and amplified in equal measure. She is his, the realization settles in his mind, heavier under the weight of her serenity. In a manner she doesn't and cannot belong to the rest of the world, she is his.
If she were not here now, Estinien might think it a dream. He rolls onto his back, palms digging into his eyes. It feels real enough.
So real that his movement disturbs her. Io stirs and pulls the sheet up to her chest. He watches the sleepy, twitchy smile that creases the skin around her eyes. She’s holding them shut, pretending he didn’t wake her.
“You’re shit at mummery.” His voice is thick, more gravel than teasing sweetness. He wishes he’d cleared his throat first.
Io opens one eye, a sliver of blue darker than the shadows around them glancing his way. She sets her face to firm seriousness before closing it again. “Is this better? Shall I snore?”
“Would it be more believable?”
“Even less so.”
“Let no one say you’re inconsistent.”
Io bolts up into the sunbeam, rounding on him with an open grin and sleep-heavy eyes, ready to wield the steel edge of her wit in this feigned indignance. “I–”
But the banter dies on her lips. She sees him and freezes, clutching the sheet tighter against her chest. Estinien can’t quite name the emotion in her expression. Only sees that she is suddenly aware of the greater context he had the luxury of noticing quietly.
He assumes she will shy away. Pull into herself and flee the mortification of this vulnerability. It would not be against her character, and he would not begrudge the instinctive withdrawal.
Instead, she reaches up to smooth her hair, wide eyes drifting across his face, his unclothed chest, and back again. He catches her thick swallow, then the sheet falls away as she leans in. 
Io approaches, illuminated from behind. Slow and golden, like amber. There is a moment, tiny and insulated, in which he considers once more if this is a dream. If there is a more beautiful sight on this star, he has not seen it. He doesn't care to. In the liminal space between her anxiety and certainty, her outstretched hand before it meets his skin, the fading distance keeping him from her affection, Estinien wonders why he should deserve this. Her friendship, her companionship, and if he were keen to wager… her love.
Io’s fingers graze the gnarled scar on his shoulder with the same tenderness they did the night before. He closes his eyes, and she indulges in the privacy. Fingertips sweep along his collar, over his neck, and down to his chest, where her hand rests, finally, over his heart.
There is a question in her kiss. A need for reassurance after sharing something rare, inviting him to see a part of her reserved for few. Her lips drag across his, each gentle press lingering longer than a single breath.
Estinien gathers her in his arms and answers in kind. He matches her unhurried movements and magnifies her intensity, until nothing remains of her self-doubt. She pulls away with an easy smile, but doesn’t go far.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers between them, biting her lip, and he will be thinking about that all day. “I should have more decorum during such an occasion. Instead, I asked you if I should snore.”
Estinien kisses her again, then clears his throat. “And what of it? We sleep together, and now humor is forbidden? Your comfort makes me glad.” His thumb strokes a steady rhythm across her back. 
“You could not make me more comfortable if you tried, a fact that has been well-demonstrated.” Io settles on his chest, proving her point. Her fingers skim over smooth muscle and raised scars without discrimination, and Estinien is in no rush for this to end. “I hope we will have more mornings like this. I like your sleepy voice.”
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recareels · 7 months ago
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Omg the potential and already abundant angst in the backstories of reader x aventurine and reader x sunday are amaziiiing!!! Do you have any snipets or more info about them?? If you ever get around to write something about them i'll die. Regardless thanks for sharing your amazing mind with us <3
thank you!!! eeeee so i’m not entirely sure if you’re talking about my selfships with them or just the lil pieces i’ve written on this blog thus far but either way!!! i really love these characters and i really want to dive into more narrative centred pieces with them!! 
ah i don’t have any snippets to share aside from really unhinged, tangled thoughts (things maisie hears on the daily, really) but you are more than welcome to ask any questions if they ever pop into ur head!!! i’m Dying to talk more about them <333 i honestly did not expect to fall so intensely in love with sunday & aventurine but they’re both just SO fascinating as characters!!!!! WEEE thank YOU for being here with me!!!!! and listening to me gush!!! <33
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salem-witch-slut · 3 months ago
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Prostitution (18+)
Sevika x Fem!Reader
SYNOPSIS: Of all the girls in the brothel, and she picked you.
WARNINGS: Brothel work (prostitute!reader), dom!Sevika, sub!reader, hair pulling, leather lingerie, grinding, fingering, strap-on use (r!receiving), Daddy Sevika, biting (briefly)
WORD COUNT: 2.1K
A/N: In honor of Arcane Season 2 coming out today, thought I would bring back one of my best kinktober prompts with everybody's favorite muscle mommy. Briefly considered making a part 2 for this but lemme know what you guys think?
dividers made by @cafekitsune
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Why did you think this was a good idea?
Well, truth be told, you didn’t think this was a good idea… But it was the only idea you had left. Your family was dead, like everyone was in the Undercity. Your partner got herself killed from a shimmer overdose, and you were facing being homeless. Your entire world was turned upside down and it was all fucked to no end. But now you had to pick up the pieces.
You were hired at the brothel. What the actual fuck were you thinking? Well, you knew Babette, and she was willing to give you a chance. It was decent money, and you were given free food during every shift. How could you turn it down?
It was your first week and you have already been through hell. The women who came to the brothel tended to be high on shimmer and sloppy at best, but the men; they were aggressive, vicious, and you found yourself leaving with aches and pains every single night.
And yet, when you entered the room that you were assigned to today, you were surprised to say the least. The outfit on the bench was… strange. Normally, the clientele wanted something revealing, lace, and soft bright colors. No, you were given something black, made of leather, and matching black heels to complete the look.
“Don’t question it,” You told yourself. “Just put it on.”
You slowly stripped off all your clothes and pulled on the leather bustier and black lace panties. Your fingers twitched slightly as you strapped the heels to your feet and ran your fingers through your hair… Your lipstick was a deep maroon color, and you had dark, dramatic eyeliner. Seems like you thought it all out already?
Who was your client today? Why were you so nervous? What if it was a man that was three times your size? What if it was more than one man? What if you got hurt today?
“Did you hear about who she picked today?” A shiver raced down your spine as you approached the curtains in front of your door, biting down on your painted lip. Who were they talking about?
“Oh, I heard. Cute little new girl is about to get ruined today, huh?” You… they were talking about you! But who else? Who was she?
You’ll get your answer soon enough.
It felt like forever until you heard heavy footfalls in the hallways. Whispers carried in the corridors, along with the aggressive clicks of heels from your fellow ‘coworkers’ running away from whoever was making their presence known inside of the building. Your fingers trembled as you dared a peek out from behind your curtain.
Not even a second later, the curtain was being pulled back and in walked your client… Tall, muscular, handsome, and absolutely terrifying.
The brothel’s most regular visitor. Silco’s right hand… the person that everyone in the underground fears.
Sevika.
You nearly fell down the stairs, heels slipping on the concrete flooring as you tried to back away and give her the space she deserved. But it seemed she had other ideas.
Before your body could come in contact with the ground, the woman reached out and grabbed both of your hips with her hands. Her right hand was warm and calloused, a pulse beneath her flesh, but her left hand? Cold, sharp, and thrumming with the energy of her mechanical arm hidden beneath that cloak she always wears.
“Easy, doll,” Her voice is deep, husky almost as she steps forward and lowers you down to the stable surface behind you. Shivers raced down your back, and you couldn’t stop yourself from trembling in her grasp. For a moment, neither of you said anything. But then her eyes raked all over your body and she breathed, hard. “Damn, look at you… Pretty little thing all dressed up just for me?”
Were you supposed to speak? You have heard so many stories about Sevika… how aggressive and cruel she is out there on the streets, and how she kills without mercy or a care in the world. You were scared of her, to say the least… And Sevika could see it in your eyes. She knew what her reputation was and was more than happy to push the agenda.
“Scared of me?”
You inhaled sharply, your hands slowly sliding from your sides to hold onto her forearms. The whirring of the mechanics of her arm made your thighs tremble. “N-No, miss…”
“Funny,” Sevika reached down and gently ran her rough fingertips along the edge of your jaw before she slid her hand in your hair. “Only dumb girls feel no fear… Now, you aren’t dumb, are you sweet thing?”
 You breathed slowly for a second, fearing you said something wrong to her. She looked amused, but looks could be deceiving… The gap between her two front teeth was cute. You focused on the crease of her jawline, the scars on her face, and the way her brows were pulled down.
She was so fucking hot that you forgot why you were afraid… and then, she grabbed at your hair, making you yelp and submit. Your hands had slid far too high up, and she was punishing you… Fuck, she was punishing you! “Better watch it. I’m paying to touch you, not the other way around.”
“But—” You hiccupped, looking into her eyes for the briefest second. She waited for your words to continue. “S-sorry…”
“Oh, she has manners?” Sevika showed off the smile that made your stomach flutter for a brief moment and reached down with both hands, gripping your thighs and lifting you off the floor like you weighed almost nothing to her. Out of instinct, your hands reached up and grabbed onto her shoulders for stability. “We’re going to have fun.”
Before you could utter another sound, you felt something press against you… something solid, and stiff. Something that felt like it was alive, right against the wet spot on your panties. A low moan left your throat, and you just immediately knew what it was.
“Take it off, doll,” Sevika breathed against your neck. “You know you want to.”
Fingers trembled as you reached for the cloak on her shoulders and slowly pulled it over her head. The brown fabric dropped to the floor behind her, and you looked down, confirming your suspicion. Sevika was strapped under her pants… the bulge was now way more obvious without the cloak.
“Feel that?” Sevika pressed her flesh hand to your rear and stepped forward, spinning you around and sitting herself down on the couch behind you. The second you were in her lap, she was pushing you down onto her hips and grinding the bulge against your cunt like it was her damn birthright to do so.
Your pulse quickened with every passing second, and you dropped your face down against her chest, breathing in the scent of tobacco and her natural scent… Strong, earthy, like a roaring wood fire. You didn’t know what came over you, but before you could scold yourself for knowing better, your tongue came in contact with her bear neck and your lips trailed all over her exposed skin.
Sevika tensed up and her fingers went from holding your hips to sliding under the fabric of your panties, grabbing at your flesh and making you instinctively bite down on her shoulder. Nowhere near enough to hurt, but enough for her to feel it. Sevika looked like she was about to start climbing the walls as she felt your hips roll forward on top of her.
With a simple flick of her metallic fingers, the underwear given to you was ripped off your body and you barely had time to recover before Sevika was lifting you off her lap and reaching to pull the zipper of her pants down. A sigh left your throat, and you could only push your face into her neck; Sevika didn’t like that.
“Nuh-uh,” She grabbed your chin with her flesh hand, pulling you back to look down into her eyes. Her grey irises were staring directly passed your fears and into your soul. It was like she was lighting you on fire from the inside out. “You look at me. Prettiest fucking girl is going to look at me when I fuck her.”
Her words made you blush from the tips of your ears down to your neck and you almost forgot that this was your job… It was easy to think that Sevika had just picked you out of everyone in the underground to have a night with. Not… that she was paying for it.
“Don’t worry,” Sevika smirked, that crease in her brow becoming more prominent as you felt her hand leave your face and slide down between your legs. When you felt her calloused fingers against your soft wet folds, you forgot how to breathe. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”
The sound you made was beyond pornographic. Two of her fingers slipped inside of your wetness without any kind of resistance. Your entire body went rigid, and your eyes fluttered for a brief second before you forced yourself to look at her. Sevika smirked and basked in your expressions, slowly pushing you up and down on her digits.
What did you even say? What were you supposed to do? Sevika isn’t like your other clients… She’s so intense, even when she’s barely touching you. It feels like you are drowning, even if it’s just her presence surrounding you. Your inner walls squeeze at her fingers as she curls them at just the right angle. Sevika smirked.
“Oh, you like that?” Sevika kept you steady on her lap with her metal hand while the other one worked in and out of your pussy. “So wet for me, already? Barely touched you, doll.”
“Fuuck...” You rolled your entire body forward, biting your lip and leaning down just enough to press soft kisses against her face. “P-Please—”
“Please, what?” Sevika said sternly. “Use your words, doll.”
“I… I n-need… ohfuck...”
“Come on,” She smirked, curling her fingers at just the right angle that you almost feel your legs give out. “Just say it—”
“Fuck me,” You whine, finally giving in. “Please, please, please… fuck me, daddy.”
There was a hunger in her eyes that wasn’t there before. It was like a switch had flipped inside of her because in mere seconds, you went from sitting on her lap to her pushing you down into the floor that was littered with pillows, blankets, anything you could desire to make this as comfortable as possible.
Sevika all but ripped her pants to try and free what had been teasing you initially. You only had a few seconds to really look at the strap around her hips before she was lining the tip of the bright purple silicone against your core.
“Pretty little thing,” Sevika growled, almost ferally as she slammed down overtop of you. Suddenly, the leather around your chest felt entirely too tight, like you couldn’t breathe. You began frantically reaching for the ties to undo the restraint on your chest, and Sevika noticed because you gasped at her ripping the ropes off the bustier and pushing the fabric apart to really look at you.
“Now, because you were a good girl…” Sevika gently prodded your opening, making you whimper and reach for her biceps. “You get a warning before you get fucked.”
“Daddy, please—”
That was her trigger. You could only grab at her muscles before she was plunging all of her strap inside of your cunt like it belonged to her. You tried to scream, but nothing came out other than a strangled squeak as your head went back on the pillows and tears filled your eyes.
You aren’t a stranger to being stretched out like this. It wasn’t like it was your first day at the brothel… but it was your first day with Sevika. She only gave you a few seconds to adjust to that cock before she was reaching down with her flesh fingers and gently rubbing at your clit.
Your soft squeaks faded into intense moans, much to the woman’s delight. She chuckled, watching you squirm and look at her like she was an alien of some sort.
“Not what you expected, doll?” Sevika teased, rolling her hips forward and making you moan like the whore you were. “Didn’t think I’d care about making you feel good?”
Very stupidly, you nodded.
“Let me fix that,” She leaned down, and you curled your fingers into the leather of her jacket before bracing yourself for the most intense workday of your entire fucking life.
“Be good for daddy and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll beg me not to leave.”
And that is exactly what Sevika did.
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sinner-as-saint · 5 months ago
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scary? my god, you're divine
Hitman/Mob!Bucky x Reader 
Run-through: Your marriage to Bucky Barnes was crucial in stopping the rivalry that had been getting rather violent recently between the two families. You agreed to it. But there was one little problem. Although people knew of Bucky as being a ruthless, fiercely loyal, and feared hitman, no one had ever seen his face. In the rare occasions when he’d been seen out during assignments, it was rumoured that he always wore some sort of mask which covered most of his face. So you ended up marrying a man, and had no idea what he looked like. But surely that wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like his one touch would get you addicted. Who cared what he looked like? It’s not like you could grow to love someone like him anyway… right? 
Themes: arranged marriage, age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, bucky’s in his late thirties), mentions of violence and death, hitman!Bucky, smut, fluff, explicit language, virgin!reader, HEA
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Something woke you up in the middle of the night. 
And you’d been staring at the dark ceiling above your bed for the past few minutes now. What had woken you up? It could’ve been the strong winds hitting the large Georgian windows. Or perhaps it was the soft ticking of the nearby clock. Or maybe even the weight of all the incessant thoughts running through your head. 
Gods, you thought, what a day. 
It had started out like any other. Your father was pacing around, worried and barking orders on the phone, trying to find a way to put a stop to this chaos that was quickly forming into a full war between him and his number one rival. Small attacks had turned to frequent drive-bys, threats had turned into taking turns and blowing up each other’s warehouses and clubs. And it would only get worse and worse. 
But this morning, as he watched you come downstairs and into the dining room for breakfast, something in his eyes was different. And you could tell what was coming. You had been thinking about this for days. So when he sat you down and discussed how you could do your part in helping to put an end to all of this. 
“It’s only a matter of time before he sends his son, his favourite weapon after us all,” Your father sounded defeated. “And none of us would survive him. No one ever does. You know that.” 
You nodded, understanding what he meant. “I know.” 
The son of your father’s rival, Bucky Barnes, was a name which could make even powerful men like your father tremble in fear. He was like a ghost. No one ever saw him. No one knew what he looked like. Those who had seen him claimed that he always wore a muzzle-like mask to conceal his identity. He was known for being his father’s most prized weapon. They say he never misses, that his aim is and has always been as sure as Eros’ arrows. He was like an evil Cupid. 
“The marriage would only be on paper of course, you don’t have to live with him.” Your father explained, seeming desolated, “But you being married to him would make us family, and…” He trailed off, sighing. 
But you knew what he meant. Family meant everything in this society. If your family and the rival’s were joined to each other by marriage, all attacks would cease. Because keeping family safe was everyone’s number one priority, even in this line of work. 
So this was all up to you now. Your family’s safety, the safety of people who worked with and for your father, all the allies, and friends, and acquaintances. It was a heavy weight to carry. 
“I’ll do it.” 
Things happened so quickly after that. Phone calls were had, arrangements and deals were made, and by the afternoon, a sheet of paper was brought to you. That’s it. No groom, no fancy shit. Just a piece of paper on which Bucky Barnes had already signed. And with your signature added next to his, you two were now forever husband and wife by law. 
It was weird, being married to a man you had never seen before. He was just a name. Granted, a name with immense magnitude in the society, but still just a name. No face to go with it. 
By the evening, your things were packed. It was an order by your new husband. He wanted his new bride in his home, and things were so freshly mended that neither you nor your father wanted to argue. So Bucky sent cars and a bunch of his soldiers to escort you to his house. It was not unexpected that he was so absent from all this. Bucky Barnes had a reputation of living in the shadows. He was so rarely seen.
Bucky’s house was not too far from your family home. In fact, the closer you got to your new home, the more you realised that despite everything, you did not mind this as much as you thought you would. 
Your husband’s home was this stunning piece of architecture. A lavish Georgian-style mansion. Beige stone, carved details and mouldings around the many windows and main entrance. Dark shingles on the roof, well-manicured lawn, a long driveway giving it a sense of both elegance and exclusivity. The mansion sat on a beautiful, seemingly endless estate. Lush and green. It was a testament to the wealth and the power of its owner. 
You were politely led inside the home by one of the many staff members who took care of the house. And the interior was just as breathtaking. Luxurious, with the right amount of vintage accents. 
“We did what we could with the limited time we had to prepare a room for you.” The kind lady had said to you. She also mentioned that this room would be entirely yours. Bucky apparently had his own on the other side of the mansion. 
You murmured that it was alright, and when she finally showed you to the room they had ready for you, you were pleasantly impressed. The layout, the colour theme, the decor, all of it was to your liking. You even had a personal little balcony which looked over the endless green backyard. 
That night you dined alone, which was not a surprise. Everyone knew Bucky Barnes was a busy man, and he was apparently above trivial things like dining with his new wife. But the silence was welcomed. After dinner you found yourself back in your bedroom, and soon in bed with a book. 
Well, maybe this was your new life now. Grand mansion with an impressive library. Solo dinners and kind staff members. A giant, dreamy bedroom all for you. Dare you say, it wasn’t too bad. 
But here you were now, unable to fall back asleep after some mysterious thing woke you up. You sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You couldn’t even blame your new surroundings for your inability to sleep. Everything here was so quiet, and comfortable. Even this new bed felt like laying on the fluffiest cloud. Perhaps you could read some more–
You froze when you heard it. 
Someone breathing. Someone else’s breaths. A soft exhale, but it was enough to make your heart race in panic. It was the middle of the night. And there was someone in this dark room with you. 
Slowly, you tried to reach for the lamp on your bedside table to turn it on, but then you heard a voice say, “Don’t.” 
A smooth, relaxed, male voice. Sounding like it came from one corner of the room. It could only be one man, couldn’t it? 
“Bucky?” You questioned, for some reasons pulling the covers up to your chin as if he was not a man but a ghost. 
A pause, then he said, like he was gently teasing you, “Hello, wife. Can’t sleep?” 
You blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness better. You strained your eyes until you could see the silhouette of a man in the corner of the room. He was sitting in one of the sofas near the unlit fireplace, quiet, still like a marble statue. 
There was almost no light coming into the room. The thick curtains allowed very little moonlight in, and it was hard to see. But you couldn’t ignore that large silhouette now that you’d noticed him. Something near him was shiny, almost metal like, you couldn’t tell what it was. 
“Do you always lurk around in the shadows like a ghost?” You asked, wondering where the hell you found the confidence to talk to one of the finest hitmen like this. It’s not like he would shoot you if he didn’t like you. A small voice said. Would he? 
A chuckle. Deep, and careless. A boyish sound. 
“It’s my house,” He responded in that same gentle but teasing tone, “I lurk wherever I please.” 
Well, he did have a point there. 
“Well then,” You said in a casual tone, “If you’re done lurking and spying on me, I’d like to go back to bed.” 
A soft scoff. Then he said, “I’ve watched you toss and turn for the past half an hour. I’d say you’re having trouble turning your brain off.” 
Half an hour?! 
“Wouldn’t you?” You retorted, keeping your voice calm and steady. “If you were forced to marry someone who’s so mysterious that no one’s ever seen them before, wouldn’t you have some trouble turning your brain off?” 
“Ah.” He got up, and you could tell by the sound of his footsteps that he was approaching the bed, “No one forced you to marry me. A suggestion was made and you agreed to it.” 
You replied quickly, “The alternative was watching everyone I love and myself be murdered by you, so semantics.” 
Another chuckle as he stopped at the edge of the bed, so close to you. You refused to move. You tilted your head up but could still only see his silhouette. He spoke in that teasing tone again, “They said you were smart, and beautiful. Guess they forgot to mention you were bratty too.” 
You frowned. “What?” 
Silence. Then he began moving away from your bed and towards the door. “Good night, wife.” 
“Good night,” You muttered, slightly annoyed and confused, “Ghost.” 
You heard his soft chuckle right as he shut the door behind him and left you all alone again in the dark. You didn’t dare turn the lamp on even after he left. 
— 
“Is Bucky ever home?” 
You asked one of the staff members at breakfast the next morning. The lady smiled at you and answered, “He keeps to himself. We rarely ever know if he’s home or not. He works at odd hours, you see? Besides, our job is to take care of the house. We clean, we make the meals and leave them in the fridge, we get our paychecks each month. Everyone is happy. We don’t pry.” 
You nodded, sipping on some tea. “So… are you one of the people who don’t know what he looks like?” 
“Oh no. I saw him recently.” She said, smiling. 
“How recent?” You asked. 
“A couple of months ago. He’s a busy man, he’s rarely ever home.” 
Unbelievable. 
“Doesn’t it feel like you’re employed by a ghost?” 
She smiled again, refilled your cup and said, “Oh, we’re used to Mr. Barnes. Sure, sometimes it feels like the house is way too empty. But look, now you’re here! We get to take proper care of someone for once.” 
She was so cheery and kind that you couldn’t help but smile at her words. How on earth did a man that grim manage to have the best staff members in the whole world? 
— 
The following night, Bucky came to see you again. 
You woke up upon hearing the door of your bedroom opening. You sat up again, leaning against the headboard. You didn’t reach for the lamp on your bedside table this time. Instead you said, “Lurking again, I see.” 
“Oh yes,” He answered, taking a seat on the same sofa by the dark fireplace. “How was your day, wife?” He asked, as if this was the most normal way to have a conversation. 
“Good.” You said, “I spoke with your staff members. They say they barely ever see you at home.” 
He sighed, “I barely ever am at home.” 
You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see it. He was too… intangible. Faceless. There was nothing you knew about him aside from his profession. And not knowing was starting to annoy you. 
“Why can’t I see you?” You asked. “I mean it’s not fair. I married you. I’ll eventually see you someday.” 
He was silent for a moment. Then asked, “Will you?” 
“Well, yes.” 
“What for?” There was that teasing tone again. So subtle. But it was there. 
Your face burned. “Well… we’re married.” You stated the obvious. “And it won’t be long till our families start asking for, you know, grandbabies.” 
“Babies can be made in the dark.” His smooth voice felt like a gentle caress. Like the finest, cool silk sliding over your warm body… 
Oh no. You can’t like his voice. Not yet. 
“That’s not what I–,” You sighed, “Why are you so against showing your face? Are you ugly?” 
He chuckled then. Loudly, if you could see him you’d surely see his shoulders shaking. “You think too much, wife.” He got up again, ready to leave. “Good night.” 
You sighed, defeated, and listened to the sounds of him leaving the room. Then almost angrily whispered, “Good night, husband.” 
“It’s because he’s ugly, isn’t it?” You asked two of the staff members one morning while they set the table for your breakfast. “That’s why he doesn’t show his face?” 
The two ladies chuckled to themselves, and one of them said, “No he isn’t.” She sounded confident too. 
“Have you seen his face? Like properly?” 
They both nodded. 
“And? You don’t find it weird that he doesn’t show his face?” You questioned. “He refuses to let me see him. He only comes to talk to me in the dark. Like some messed up Eros.” You whispered the last part to yourself. 
One of the ladies said, gently, “Give him time. He’s not… terrible.” 
— 
“Your staff speaks highly of you.” You said to him when he came to see you that night. Again, sat in that corner like a ghost whose only purpose was to haunt your bedroom specifically. 
“Do they?” 
“Yes,” You made yourself comfortable, leaning against the headboard like you had the habit of doing. “Do you pay them to sing your praises?” 
He chuckled. “Is it that hard to believe that I’m not some sort of monster?” 
You sighed. “If not then why can’t I see you?” 
“Not yet.” He said. 
“Why?” 
“Because I said so.” He replied, and by the sounds of it, he stood up. Surely ready to leave. “Now, is there anything you need?” 
You tried to see if you could tell where he was standing but the room was too dark. However, it seemed like, judging by the sound of footsteps, that he’d gotten closer to the end of your bed. “There’s nothing to do around the house. The ladies take care of everything. I appreciate the library, but…” 
He was quiet, like he was thinking. Then said, “I’ll see to it.” 
“I’m assuming you won’t let me go back to work in my family’s companies.” You could tell he wouldn’t. 
“No,” He said, as expected. “You’re my wife now. I’m well equipped to provide for you and see to your needs for the rest of our lives. But if you have any hobbies, please, indulge away.” 
Something about his calm tone made you confess your little secret, “I like to paint. I’ve always wanted to be an artist.” 
You didn’t know why you were telling him all this. Perhaps the dark helped you open up better. Maybe the fact that you didn’t know him made it easier to talk. Like how people tend to prefer texting over calls. Him being so invisible made it so much more effortless. 
You continued, “I always wonder what it must be like to have an exhibition of my works.” You chuckled. “I know it sounds vain but… I’ve always wanted to let my mind and soul leak all over canvases, and share it with the world. I think it’s such a brave thing when people do that.” 
He was quiet for a few seconds, then spoke in that teasing tone, “Painting, huh?” 
You rolled your eyes. “You don’t get to make fun of me, ghost.” 
He chuckled. “Get some sleep, wife.” 
And then he left. 
— 
The following morning, you woke up to two surprises. 
The first one was waiting for you at the breakfast table. You noticed the box on the floor immediately. It was partially opened, and had a note stuck to it. 
The note read: ‘Since there’s nothing to do around the house…’ written in a messy handwriting. Surely Bucky’s. 
You opened the box and in there, on a folded blanket, was a sleeping, fluffy little puppy. A black lab it seemed. With a pink collar around her neck. You gasped as you gently picked it up and couldn’t resist bringing it up to your face. Puppies always smelt so good. 
The little one yawned and let out some cute noises as you held her up to look at her properly. By now the two ladies whom you saw frequently around the house walked up to you and one of them said, “He left something else for you.” 
You followed the ladies, new puppy in hand, and they led you to what seemed like a newly built studio. It was in an area of the mansion where you didn’t go very often. And as you walked in, you gasped in surprise for the second time that morning. 
It was located on the ground floor. A bright and spacious space. The beige walls felt like a giant blank canvas in itself. The large Georgian windows allowed the perfect amount of light in. And everything in the room was neatly organised. Art supplies, paints, canvases, palettes, easels. 
Oh, it was perfect. 
The ladies left you to explore on your own, saying something about bringing you breakfast in here. But you were distracted by the bright yellow sticky note on one of the easels. You walked up to it and it read: ‘For your mind and soul to leak all over. Paint me something. I’ll consider it a wedding gift.’ 
You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read and re-read the note left by your mysterious husband. You whispered to your sleeping puppy, “Maybe our ghost isn’t so bad, huh?” 
-
Hours went by. 
The ladies brought you and the puppy your meals, a bed for the pup, snacks for you, all while you were busy letting your creativity flow as much as possible. 
The first few canvases were horrible according to you. You hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in so long so it felt like day one all over again. But gradually, over the next few canvases, you could see what your brain was trying to create. 
The blank canvas soon turned into flowy shapes. Curves, facial features, hands. Entwining bodies. Two of them. And the colour purple, lots of it. It didn’t make too much sense at first, but the more you worked on it the more you realised what you were painting. 
It was your version of ‘The Abduction of Psyche’. How fitting. 
By the time you were done and happy with it, your back was aching from sitting on that stool all day. It was almost time for dinner. The sun had set. The puppy was awake so you held her up to show her the canvas and asked, “You think our ghost will like it?” 
She let out the tiniest, softest howl. 
“Yeah, I think so too.” 
You left to shower and have dinner. Then once it was time for bed you asked one of the staff members, “Does Bucky have some kind of an office?” 
She replied saying yes he does, and that she could show you where it was. You grabbed the not yet dry canvas and carefully carried it all the way to where Bucky’s office was. The lady again left you all by yourself to explore. 
At first you didn’t want to spend too much time in there. It was Bucky’s space after all. But then you thought, if he was comfortable walking into your bedroom at odd times during the night, why shouldn’t you check out his office? 
So you did. You left the canvas where it could dry without any problem and where Bucky would see it upon entering the room. Then you began exploring. The room was not what you were expecting for someone like Bucky. You thought it would be less… old school. 
He had a vintage looking typewriter on his desk for gods’ sake. Not one he used of course, but it added layers to his character you thought. Dark wooden furniture, comfortable looking chairs, more bookshelves filled with cloth-bound books. It was… cosy. 
So cosy in fact that you grabbed a book and made yourself comfortable on one of the chairs. You’d read for an hour or so then head off to bed, you thought. 
But soon, you drifted off to sleep. Right there. In Bucky’s office. 
-
You woke up and felt something soft and fluffy moving around on your lap. You opened your eyes and quickly realised you weren’t in bed. The room was dark. With very little light coming in from the outside. There were no curtains in this room, but also it was situated in an area of the mansion where very little moonlight came in.
Before you could panic though, a voice spoke up from not too far away, “You’ve been busy today, I see.” 
Ah, Bucky. And fuck. You’d fallen asleep in his office. 
You refused to feel embarrassed. So you asked, “Did you like your wedding gift?” 
“Yes.” He replied, and gauging by the sound you could tell he was sitting at his desk, in the darkest corner of the room. “I’ll hang it in my office.” 
You smiled in the dark, feeling a little proud of yourself. “And where’s my wedding gift?” 
“In your lap.” 
Fair. 
“What should we name her?” You asked, reaching to caress your puppy who let out an adorable grunt. “Hedone? Donnie, for short?” 
He let out a chuckle. “You are really leaning into this whole Eros-Psyche thing, huh?” 
You shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t have to if you’d just show me your face. But you keep choosing not to, so deal with it.” 
A pause. Then he asked, “You like your new studio?” 
That made you sit up straighter. “I love it. Thank you.” Then you added, “My family always thought painting was a waste of time. They said it kept my head in the clouds too much. That it was… pointless.” 
He was quick to say, “It’s not. Besides, your hobbies don’t have to make sense to anyone else but yourself. And I’ve seen the other canvases you left in the studio. They’re good.” 
You turned to face the dark corner he was in. “You think?” 
“Yes,” He said. “We can hold an exhibition if you want. Let me know when you’re ready.” 
You let out a surprised chuckle. And when he didn’t laugh you realised he was serious. “Bucky, it's not so easy.” You explained calmly. “There’s so much work that goes into it, there needs to be some cohesion to the art pieces. There’s marketing, there’s research, there’s…” You exhaled, “There’s a lot of work to be done. Art exhibitions aren’t as easy or quick as you think it is.” 
He replied, “Leave all that to me. Just let me know when you want to hold one.” 
Just like that? 
“I… okay.” 
You felt warm in a way you’d never felt before. No one had ever taken your interests so seriously before. You’d never even been able to discuss this freely about your hobbies. And here Bucky was, ready to listen and interact with it. 
You got up to leave because this was… a lot to process. “Well then. Good night, Bucky.” 
A soft scoff. “Think I liked it more when you called me a ghost.” 
You smiled as you approached the door, puppy in hand and amazed at how well you were able to navigate in the dark. “Night, ghost.” 
He gave you a satisfied hum, then, “Good night, wife.” 
— 
It was bizarre to admit but you’d gotten used to those conversations in the dark with your husband. Days went by quickly given how engrossed you were with painting. Especially with the thought of a potential exhibition now in the back of your mind. Gods, that would be a dream. 
And while your days consisted of painting, playing and training your puppy, exploring more and more of the grounds and your new home, making quick trips to the stores to get more supplies, catching up with your friends who were still trying to grasp the fact that you got married so quickly, getting to know the household staff and the guards better, your night consisted of waiting and fighting your sleep until Bucky came to talk to you. 
It was always short conversations. Filled with easy banter and teasing tones, sarcastic comments and you asking each and every night if he was in the mood to show his face. Bucky always said no. And you always sent him off with a ‘good night, ghost’. 
You had gotten used to your ghost. As had your puppy. She would bark happily each time Bucky would enter your bedroom door at night. She’d run to him for playtime and cuddles as he sat in his dark corner and spoke with you until you fell asleep. 
Bucky would often leave you some kind of a note, for you to read in the morning. At the breakfast table, or in your studio. Sometimes he would leave compliments and comments on your dry canvases. Eventually, you stopped fighting the smiles which formed on your face as you read his notes. 
But all of it only made you want to see him more. Not that it would change anything. Bucky had quickly become… a friend, you’d say. A confidant if you will. He had become a habit. Part of your routine. 
And then one night, he didn’t come to see you. 
You waited. He usually came around midnight. It was well past 2 a.m. and he never came. 
At some point you went downstairs, pretending as if you just needed some water. One of the guards caught you trying to peek out into the driveway from the kitchen window. 
“Boss is not home yet, ma’am.” He said. 
You acted like you didn’t care. But still asked, “He does this often?” 
“Sometimes.” 
You nodded. You took your drink and with your puppy in your arms you walked back upstairs, passing by the many guards who were on duty inside the house at nighttime. 
“It’s alright, he’s probably just busy.” You whispered to the sleeping pup as you made your way up. “Or maybe he’s hurt and tending to his wounds somewhere else.” You felt a gentle pinch in your chest at the thought of Bucky hurt and alone out there. So you forced yourself to think of something else. Something way worse. “Or maybe he’s with someone else.” You scoffed, nuzzling the soft fur of your pup, “This marriage means nothing to him anyway. But that’s alright, we don’t need him. I’ve got you. We’ve got each other. Don’t we?” 
Safe to say, you went to bed slightly annoyed that night. And in denial too because you refused to admit that you missed him. 
– 
There was a note waiting for you in your studio the next morning. 
It read: ‘No I did not spend the night with someone else. I’ll explain later. See you tonight, wife.’ 
Huh. Looks like the guards have really good ears. 
Well, whatever. It’s not like you were impatiently waiting for night to come just so you could talk to your ghost of a husband. Right? 
Except you were though. So much that you couldn’t paint a decent thing. You were easily giving up on each canvas, and leaving a trail of unfinished work the more time went on. 
Eventually you sighed and left the studio. You tried reading but that wasn’t happening either. So you did the only thing you knew would take your mind off things. You asked the ladies to show you where everything was kept in the kitchen and you got to baking. 
Which you did until it was time for bed. Your mood was off, and it was all because of a faceless man. And that somehow annoyed you even more. 
You grabbed a plate of the mini muffins you’d made earlier and made your way upstairs. Your puppy had just gotten used to the stairs so she happily followed you everywhere you went now. 
You proceeded to sit in bed, and eat your muffins angrily and forced yourself to try to sleep. 
-
You woke up sometime later. And you just knew who was in the room with you. 
Except he wasn’t in his usual spot. 
He was standing by the windows which faced your bed this time, with his back to you. The curtains were pulled, the moonlight came and there was his dark silhouette. And… you frowned as you noticed the shiny metal arm. 
“You’re home.” You said. 
Bucky turned his head to the side, “I am.” He said. 
You took a second or two to admire the side profile. With the moonlight shining all around his silhouette he looked like a fallen angel of sorts. “You didn’t come home last night.” 
“I was out working,” He said. 
“Maiming and killing?” 
“You know me so well.” 
“Is that a… metal arm?” You questioned. 
“It is.”  
“Were you hurt?” 
“I was.” 
You sighed again. “Is it always going to be bland answers and mystery with you?” 
“Get used to it.” He said in that teasing tone. 
You got out of bed as quietly as you could. “I think I liked you better without the attitude, when you sat in the corner like a ghost.” You took some steps away from the bed, approaching the giant windows. The room was rather spacious so it would take some more steps to get close to him. If you’d only– 
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” He warned, but remained in the same spot. 
You groaned. “Don’t you think this is getting tiring? I mean, I’m married to a man I’ve never seen before. In fact, no one has ever seen you. Why? What are you hiding?” You added, sounding defeated.  
Bucky lowered his head, which only accentuated how broad his shoulders really were. He sighed. “Do you know how much trouble could’ve been avoided if only Psyche trusted Eros?” 
You rolled your eyes. “I think she had her reasons. A mysterious, faceless lover who only shows up in the dark and hides in the shadows is bound to raise some doubts. Don’t you think so?” 
He chuckled. You blinked and he’d turned around to face you. But despite that, you couldn’t see his face at all. Even though he was inches away. 
He was quiet. Observing you with interest. The moonlight allowed him to see all of you, and he just… stared for a moment or two. A shiver ran down your back. An unfamiliar, but pleasant shiver. 
Without a word said, Bucky reached out and gently touched the thin strap of your silky night dress resting on your shoulder. His metal finger gliding along your skin and making you gasp at his cold touch. 
“What’s this?” He asked in his usual teasing tone. “Trying to tempt me with this excuse of a night dress, wife?” 
Fuck. Had his voice dropped lower? 
Fuck! He was so close to you. You didn’t even notice that your heart had begun racing. Your breaths had deepened. Shit. Why was this so hot?! 
“Are you? Tempted?” You asked with a steady voice, without thinking obviously. You just needed to say something so he wouldn’t notice the way you were basically panting after him like a thirsty dog. 
He chuckled. But remained quiet. 
So you said, “Thought so.” You sounded smug but you were feeling the complete opposite. 
Bucky scoffed in that arrogant way he often did. It was insane how easily you were able to pick up on his mannerism when you hadn’t even known him for that long. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to sleep with you?” 
Oh. 
Oh this was bad. Because now your brain was making up hot, steamy scenes in your head. Scenes involving you and your faceless, mysterious husband in the dark. Entwining bodies on soft bed sheets. Fuck, you should paint that. No, what?  
“Then why haven’t you?” You found yourself asking. 
Okay then, bold as fuck it is. You’d gone past the point of no return now. Guess it was time for this conversation. 
Bucky’s fingers remained on your shoulder, tracing the thin strap there. And you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the smirk in his voice when he asked, “You want me to?” His metal hand dropped to your waist and before you could fully process it, he pulled you closer, leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You want my hands all over you, wife?” 
You could feel his slight stubble against your skin as he spoke. His lips brushing against your ear, making you gasp and tremble. Your hands found their way to his shoulders. And oh, he was pulling you even closer. Your chest pressing against his. The cool material of his suit felt amazing against your warm skin. 
“Look at you,” He cooed into your ear. “Is this what you want? Hmm?” He placed both his hands on your waist, pulling you into him. His lips moved lower, brushing against your neck as he spoke. “You like how rough my hands feel?” He moved his hands up and down your sides. “Do you know how many people I’ve hurt with these hands?” He chuckled when he heard the tiniest moan leave your mouth. “You’re so soft and warm, aren’t you worried what these hands might do to you?” 
He nuzzled your neck, hands roaming all over your sides and back and squeezing your butt. You became so pliant under his touch. Tilting your head back to allow him to kiss all over your neck, pressing your chest more and more against his like you couldn’t get enough. The layers of clothing, you wanted them gone. 
With a shaky voice you murmured, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to scare me or turn me on.” 
He laughed. And it was the best sound you’d ever heard. 
“You’re sick in that pretty head, huh?” He teased. “That beautiful brain is filled with filthy, dirty, dark thoughts, isn’t it?” His metal hand reached up and carefully wrapped around your throat. 
You gasped as he squeezed just a little bit. Those dirty thoughts he spoke about really started to fill your head. 
“Are you just all talk or–,” 
He cut you off by dragging you all the way to your bed, still holding you by the throat. 
The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he gave you a slight push, ending with you falling onto your bed on your back. You looked up at him, hovering above you, his lower body pressing into yours. 
“Do you just run that mouth?,” He asked, supporting himself with one hand while the metal one remained wrapped around your throat, his voice low and menacing but in a way that made your legs part on their own so his hips settled in between them. Your bodies fit together like the most perfect puzzle pieces. “Or do you know how to take it like a brat as well?” 
You felt the need to let him know then. “I don’t know,” You said, sounding both breathless and bratty. “I’ve never had to take it.” 
He paused for a moment. Then asked in subtle surprise, “What do you mean?” Even his grip around your throat loosened completely. 
You squirmed in slight embarrassment but that only caused your hips to grind against his and for a moment there both of you let out a strained moan. Fuck. The tension between the two of you was almost physical now. Even in the dark, even with Bucky being nothing more than just a shadow above you. 
“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, still feeling his cold fingers all over your skin, “I’ve never been with anyone before.” 
He was quiet. As if thinking. You tried your hardest but you couldn’t see any of his facial features. You knew he had a slight stubble because you’d felt it earlier. But aside from that, you knew nothing. Not even his eye colour. 
“You want us to stop?” He asked, shifting his body slightly as if he was ready to pull away if you asked him to. 
“No,” You answered way too quickly. Then you got bold again and let your hands find their way back to his shoulders. You pulled him down, closer to you just a little and said, “This is okay.” 
His fingers moved up, from your neck to your mouth. “Yeah? You want this, huh?” He mumbled, tracing your mouth with his fingers. You shivered under his touch. “You’ve been a whiny little brat lately, haven’t you, wife? Pouting and all just because I wouldn’t show myself to you.” He whispered, leaning in to just brush his lips against yours. You gasped at the sensation of his soft lips rubbing against yours. Bucky chuckled at your reaction. “Don’t think my staff doesn’t report back to me. I’ve been well aware of all the times you asked the ladies to give you details about me.” 
Now that made you squirm in embarrassment. Still you said, sounding a little annoyed at being caught. “Can you blame me?”
“Can’t you just trust me?” He argued. 
The danger and authority in his tone had your thighs clenching together to try and alleviate the torturous pain in between your legs. You were almost certain you had never been this turned on and annoyed at the same damn time before. You sighed in frustration. “This isn’t fair.” 
“No, it isn’t,” He said, pulling away and began undressing you to your pleasant surprise. “Deal with it.” 
Oh fuck. 
Fuck… You had to hold back from whimpering each time his hands rubbed against your skin. He took his time in sliding the straps of your night dress down your shoulders, dragging the silky fabric down your body, leaving you more and more naked under him. 
You shivered once he left your night dress bunched around your waist carelessly. It wasn’t just because of the slightly cold air. It was because even though you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was staring right at you. 
You spoke in a hushed voice, not daring to speak loud in fear that it might break whatever spell you were under. “So you get to see me naked all you want, but I can’t see your face?” 
He chuckled. “You want me to leave this room right now? Leave you here all wet and squirming? Or do you want me to take care of it and make you come? Huh?” 
That shut you up really quickly. 
“I thought so.” He sounded smug again when he said that. “I should spank you for the brat you are. But since it’s your first time… I’ll be nice.” 
His hands touched you everywhere, your thighs, your stomach, your sides, your chest, your neck… everywhere. He left you gasping and trembling under him. 
“Please.” You caught yourself whispering. 
Bucky leaned down, his soft mouth brushing against your cheek as he said, “Please what?” 
You squirmed, “Touch me, please.” 
He chuckled. You felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your naked body. “Look at you,” He murmured, lips brushing against your stomach, “You’re so eager already.” 
You heard the faint chuckle which left his mouth the moment he noticed your legs spread apart for him naturally. Your face felt like it was burning but fuck, you were too turned on to even be properly embarrassed. Also, being in complete darkness helped. 
Damn. You were really getting intimate with your husband whom you hadn’t even seen yet. And somehow that fact was making you want this even more. 
But that mystery stopped being an issue the moment Bucky leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease.
He poked at your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than before. Back arching off the bed as you let out a soft moan at the foreign feeling. Fuck he felt good. You whimpered as you felt his tongue stroke your most sensitive parts. Your immediate reaction was to pull your hips back from the overwhelmingly good sensation his mouth was causing. And that made him grip your thighs tighter, keeping them pinned to the bed. 
“Stop moving.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble. 
You whined as you felt his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to his mouth. The metal hand on your warm skin made you shiver and tremble so much that you were thankful for the darkness. 
The small amount of moonlight which came in allowed you to only see the silhouette of his broad shoulders, and his head moving slowly, sensually in between your legs. Fuck… somehow the mystery only made it hotter.
Oh you were fucked in the head for real. 
And oh, Bucky was a fucking tease. Once he noticed how easily you cried out and moaned for him, he slowed down and began kissing around your clit just to purposely mess with you. He kissed your thighs, purposely avoiding touching where he knew you needed him the most. He kissed down all the way to your core, and gently bit your skin around your inner thighs. 
“Bucky, please!” You cried out, hand reaching for his hair. When you managed to grab a fistful of his soft hair, you gave it a gentle tug. “Stop teasing me.” 
“You don’t get to give me orders, wife.” He said, sounding all proud and mighty. “I could just walk out of here and leave you like this. Naked and squirming.” 
“Please,” You begged again. You could feel your arousal trickling out of you. 
A scoff. Then he leaned in again. You whined and whimpered under him, with your legs wrapped around his head. Fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp instinctively as he flicked, and sucked, and teasing your clit as much as he could. 
“You’ve been a brat because you wanted your husband’s attention so badly, huh?” He taunted. “Is that what you wanted? Just my attention?” He chuckled. “You’re as calm as a happy kitten now, aren’t you?” 
His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of. You wanted more of him. 
“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” You murmured, throwing your head back, moaning as he kept teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. 
“Come for me, wife.” His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. 
You couldn’t even hold on for much longer, and ended up coming undone all over his tongue. Heart racing, legs trembling in his grip as you came. Your moans were soft and incessant. 
Fuck… that felt amazing. 
You had barely gotten your heart to stop racing, and Bucky was already standing up and in the dark you couldn’t see very well but it did look like he was moving away from the bed. 
“You’re leaving?” You asked, unable to stop yourself from sounding a little upset at his departure. 
All he said was, “Good night, wife. See you tomorrow.” 
You scoffed after he shut the door behind him, leaving you in darkness yet again. “Ghost.” 
— 
That night ended up being the first of many. 
Your days consisted of painting, and finally finding a flow in most of your pieces. Perhaps if you’re able to make a decent collection, you could start thinking about the exhibition seriously, you thought. When you weren’t painting you were either training your rapidly growing puppy, or baking. You’d begun taking your puppy out for walks around the mansion, consequently doing some more exploring of the grounds. 
After all that, each night you’d get in bed and wait for Bucky. It became part of your routine. And each night with him was different. He’d spend his time touching you slowly until you were purring for him like a kitten. Kissing you all over your body in the dark. Making you come all over his tongue and fingers. Kissing you until you moaned and pulled him closer just to feel his weight pressing down on you. 
But he would always leave after making you come. And you two never actually fucked. Neither would he let you make him come. 
On nights when he wouldn’t make it home, you’d worry yourself to sleep. But then each morning you’d find a note from him either in your studio or the breakfast table. He would always say some cheesy shit. And he would always promise to come see you later that night. 
On nights when you two didn’t engage in anything sexual, it was still just as fulfilling. Bucky would tell you things about his work, his past, his family. You learnt that he was over a decade older than you, and teased him about being an old man until he pinned you to the bed and tickled you until you couldn’t breathe. 
You learnt that he liked to keep to himself and stay as far away from his family as possible. He liked peace and quiet, which would explain his lovely home being here away from most people. 
The more you learned about him, the easier it was to grow fond of him. But the more you grew fond of him, the greedier you got. You wanted more. More of his time, his touch, his attention, and most of all, you wanted to see him. 
The mystery, while hot as fuck, was killing you. 
One night, things changed. 
Bucky came into your room as usual. He’d gotten bolder lately, he wouldn’t sit in the corner like a ghost anymore, instead he would find his way to your bed and only leave that bed after making you come hard. 
Tonight started out the same way.  
You felt his hands all over you as he pulled you closer to him under the covers. You giggled as he bit and licked that one sensitive spot on your neck. Your fingers had a habit of finding themselves in his hair. It was insane how easily you’d gotten used to being with him in the dark. How easily you could find his mouth with your own. How easily you’d find your way into his arms. 
It was weirdly comforting. His warmth, his voice, his touch. 
“Tell me about your day,” He murmured, kissing your neck while his hands grabbed you and caressed you wherever he could reach. 
You squealed when you felt his metal fingers wandering dangerously close to your clit. Then said, “It went pretty well. I went out to buy some supplies, made a new friend at the store, I went to see my father but he wasn’t home. I took our dog for a walk, I painted…,” You gasped when his mouth trailed down till he took a nipple into his warm mouth, while he slid two fingers inside you gently. “Oh fuck…” You whined. 
He kissed his way up to your mouth again and said, “You sound so good when you moan for me, wife.” His lips brushed against yours. 
He was so close. And it was dark. And you wanted so desperately to see him. 
He moved his fingers expertly in and out of you. Making sure to brush against your most sensitive spots each time, turning you into a whimpering mess under him. He gave you a gentle kiss, swallowing your moans as he brought you closer to the edge. 
You whimpered and whined, then in the moment you just blurted out, “Can I please see you now?” 
Bucky stopped. He pulled away from you, making you whimper again as he got up and got out of your bed. 
In the dark it took a while for you to figure out where he was, whether he was still nearby or already making his way out the door. But he was here, standing near the bed. 
“We talked about this.” He said, sounding grave and disappointed. 
“But it’s been so long.” You argued. “I trust you.” 
He let out a loud exhale and said, “Then trust me when I say, it’s better this way.” 
You let out a sigh. “You can’t keep me in the dark forever, Bucky. Literally!” 
“Yes I can. I will.” He said arrogantly. That tone of his bothered you. “It’s better this way.” He repeated, but it sounded a lot like he was trying to convince himself instead of you. 
“Oh screw you!” You said with enough bitterness to make a grown man flinch. “If you won’t let me see you then stop coming into my bedroom. I don’t want to see you unless you agree to let go of this weird persona.” 
“Fine.” 
That night was the last time you heard from Bucky. 
He didn’t come home the following day. Nor the one after that. 
And no one knew where he went. 
You could tell something was wrong when you began noticing that the guards were talking in hushed voices whenever you were around. You noticed that the amount of security around the house doubled. That’s when you began to worry. 
By the third night, the entire house was filled with this almost tangible tension, worry, and fear. The house staff wouldn’t talk to you as much. The guards were always in and out of the house. The head of security advised you to not wander too far away from the house while you roam the grounds. 
You noticed the guards would follow you whenever you left the property. Be it when you left to visit your father at your old house or when you went out to buy supplies. 
Then you worried some more. But no one had answers to your questions. Nobody knew where he went. Whether he’s away for an assignment or if he’s simply choosing to be away from home. 
You tried your hardest to pretend that you didn’t care. You were still a little angry. After all, why couldn’t you see what he looked like? You’d spend so much time with him in the dark, running your hands all over him, tracing the outline of his facial features, he never had an issue with that. But why couldn’t you see him? 
You were angry, but also very much worried by the fourth day. You missed him, you realised. He had become such a habit, such a constant in your days. His sarcastic humour, his gentle hands, his comforting embrace, the way he left you notes in the morning, the way he took your art seriously. 
Fuck. You sat up in bed one night, patting ‘his’ side of the bed softly. You missed him. Badly. You felt a pinch inside your chest which you had never felt before. It hurt. You wanted him home. You admitted to yourself with a painful sigh. 
“Where are you?” You whispered, looking at the dark corner of your bedroom where he used to sit in silence like a ghost. “It’s okay if you want to stay in the dark forever.” You looked around the dark room which now without him seemed so much bigger and empty, “Just come home.” 
The next morning, as you half-heartedly approached the kitchen, you overheard something. And quickly realised you shouldn’t have heard it. It was the two ladies talking in hushed tones, the ones who usually served you your meals and often kept you company while you baked. 
“...cannot tell her, she’ll be heartbroken.” One of them said gravely. 
Sudden panic made your body freeze. You pressed your back against the nearest wall to keep yourself hidden while you processed those cryptic words. No, no, no. Is he hurt? Do they know something you don’t? 
The other replied, “But she deserves to know. Even if it’s not confirmed yet. I mean, do you see how she smiles when she reads his notes? Clearly she had grown to care for him. She needs to know.” 
The other argued, “I know, but I cannot imagine how hurt she will be when she hears about the rumours that her own father kidnapped her husband due to some past rivalry which was supposedly laid to rest after their wedding.” 
“They’ve been looking for him for days now. It’s been too long, he should’ve been found by now.” 
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! 
No. This cannot be happening. 
You carefully walked away from the kitchen. Thinking, processing, analysing. 
If your father did it, it must’ve been for some shitty, arrogant reason. He probably just wanted to rub it in Bucky’s family’s face that he could still eliminate his biggest threat if he wanted to. To show that he could still get rid of them by holding their most precious weapon hostage. To toy with them by making them wait in anticipation. Your father had done it before. Not with Bucky, but other people. He usually never asked for ransom but he liked having his rivals beg him for mercy. 
Shit. He’s had Bucky for days now. 
You moved without thinking twice about it. For some reason, your brain knew exactly what to do even though your heart was still bothered by a multitude of emotions. It felt like you were on autopilot. 
You rushed into Bucky’s office and grabbed a handgun from his desk drawer, checked if it was loaded. It was. You knew Bucky kept it there for safety, he had told you that one time when you two were in bed together. 
You let out a frustrated sigh, then felt movement around your ankles. You looked down at your puppy and gave her a sad smile as you bent down to pet her. “I’m gonna go find daddy, okay? I’ll be home soon.” You left her with a kiss. 
You rushed back downstairs and found a group of armed guards in the foyer near the front door. You didn’t have the time to explain it all to them, especially since you were driven by a gut feeling. Instead you asked, “Do you guys have a way of tracking my phone, or my car?” 
One of them nodded. The rest frowned in confusion. 
You tried to keep your calm as much as you could even though your heart was racing. “Okay, I’m gonna go to my father’s house. Don’t follow me yet, but I need some of you to come find me as soon as I begin driving away from there.” 
Surprisingly, they just nodded and let you go. 
The whole time you drove to your father’s house, it felt you were constantly having to force yourself to keep calm. After four days of having no idea where he was, and now as all the puzzle pieces fit together, it was hard to remain calm. You just wanted to get to him. 
And while you drove, unanswered questions tormented you. 
Was he hurt? Where was he being kept? Was he beaten up? Was he even conscious? Would this end badly? How far would your father take this? Would he hurt him? 
Before you knew it, you were entering your father’s property. The guards let you in like they always did. You had to take a minute to breathe in your car before stepping out and going inside your old home. 
Luckily your father was home. 
You walked in and stopped in the middle of the foyer as you saw him making his way down the stairs. He slowed down when he noticed the glare you sent his way. And when he stopped in the middle of the grand staircase, with you still glaring at him, the guards who were scattered around the entrance noticed. You caught the way they silently got closer and closer, slowly reaching for their guns. 
Good thing you’d brought your own. 
The guards, as well as your father, froze in place the moment you pulled out Bucky’s gun and pointed it at the man responsible for all of this shit. No one made a single sound. No guard moved to even try to disarm you. 
You looked at your hand, which was surprisingly steady as it held the gun. And there, on the side of the shiny metal, you spotted Bucky’s initials. Your heart throbbed in a painful way, but you refused to be emotional right now, even though you needed a good cry after having bottled up your feelings for the last few days. 
You glared at your father, who was still shocked, and asked in a cold tone you’d never used before, “Where’s my husband?” 
Your father frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?” 
You repeated, “Where is he?” 
Your father scoffed, “You’ll shoot your own father? Is this how I raised you?” 
“And you’ll kidnap your own son-in-law? For what? To show that you’re still the shit?” You questioned in a slightly raised voice. 
He sighed like he was disappointed, “You don’t know what–,” 
You cut him off. “We had a deal, right? That these petty attacks would stop after the wedding? That’s why I got married, isn’t it? Because we’re supposed to keep family safe?” 
He was quiet for a moment. Then began talking again, “If I could just get them to–,” 
“Enough!” You sounded just as tired of his bullshit as you were. “Whatever plan you have, just stop!” Then it came spilling out of your mouth, “You were supposed to protect me. All of us,” You said, referring to your older siblings, “Instead you married each of us off in exchange for whatever or whoever was going to benefit you more.” 
He argued, “If this works, you can come back home. Don’t you want that?” 
“No,” You said, and realised you meant it. “This was never home.” You admitted. “He treats me better than my own family ever did. He doesn’t tell me that my art is a waste of time. He doesn’t keep me imprisoned inside his home. He doesn’t choose who I should mingle with and who I shouldn’t. He doesn’t force me to join family businesses because it’ll be good for his image.” You taunted your father. “And he’ll never sell me to the highest bidder.” 
Your father made a sound like he was disgusted. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him?” 
You remained quiet. I care for him, you wanted to say, deeply. But that would be lying, wouldn’t it? Truth was… you did fall for him. His calm voice. His gentle but playful demeanour. His dark humour. His brilliant mind and sharp tongue, always ready to argue and debate. His gentle touch… you loved him. 
“What I do and who I care for is none of your concern anymore.” You concluded, stepping forward and keeping the gun aimed at his face. “Now, where is my husband?” 
The smirk on your father’s face was maddening. “You’ll never find him,” He said. “I’ve hidden him well.” He added.  
You gave him a smirk as well. One which mirrored his. 
“Oh don’t make me do this.” You cooed. “Did you forget all those times you got drunk and confessed all the bad things you did?” You began listing, “All those times you spilled all your little secrets. About our family businesses, about your allies, the lies and betrayal. The bodies that are buried on this very property. The skeletons in your closet.” You gave him a sick, sweet smile. “Imagine if all that information just magically ends up in the ears of your rivals, dad. Imagine the carnage.” 
His smirk disappeared. “You would betray me by siding with them?” He asked in disbelief. 
You were getting tired of this. So you lowered your gun and said, “I am one of them.” 
You walked out without a single glance back at your father, but you could tell he had his jaws clenched in anger. He hated being outsmarted. But his mistake was underestimating you. 
And as for Bucky’s location, well your father gave it away when he said ‘I’ve hidden him well.’ 
There was only one place he believed you knew nothing about since at the time that he told you about it, he was drunk out of his mind as he confessed more of his crimes: the rundown warehouse which he used as a hideout/storage for weapons and arms. 
Your father had always referred to Bucky being a ‘weapon’ so it was only fitting that he would think to hide him there. Thinking no one would find him. 
But you would. 
As you drove to the warehouse, you hoped that the guards were tracking you as you had instructed them to. Because if Bucky was truly there, there was a high chance that there would be some guards, and that Bucky must be injured. And you’d need help getting him out of there. 
Driving to the warehouse, you had silent tears streaming down your face. Not just out of sadness, but also frustration. Fuck, what had your life become? 
The warehouse was a disaster, you realised as you approached it. Large, crumbling, windows boarded up with rotting wood, broken machinery scattered around the outside. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades. And it was exactly the type of structure no one would bother to look twice at. The perfect place to hide illegal things, and son-in-laws you hate. 
There weren’t as many guards as you expected. Which would mean that Bucky was either chained and locked up like an animal, or that he was injured to the point where he was too weak to fight his way out of here. 
Or both. 
You shivered as you got out of your car. The few guards who were around noticed you and one of them began walking faster towards you the more you got closer to the entrance. 
“Miss, you can’t be here. Your father explicitly said no one is allowed–,” 
You scoffed and said, “Oh, I know what he said.” You kept walking. “What will you do? Shoot me?” 
“Miss,” He tried again, “I can’t let you–,” 
You turned towards him and placed the barrel of Bucky’s gun right under the guard’s chin. “You were saying?” 
Then you heard it. A fleet of cars approaching. The guards heard it too. You heard them yelling at one another while the one in front of you remained frozen in place. You smirked at him and said, “Now go play with them.” 
You had just enough time to duck and run inside before the gunshots began. You didn’t stop. The interior of the warehouse was just as dilapidated as the outside, and by the sound of it, there were quite some guards on the roof. Their heavy footsteps as they ran to duck and try to escape the bullets raining down on them echoed inside the empty warehouse. 
It was fairly easy to spot Bucky. But fuck was it painful to see him that way. 
He was chained to the wall, shackles around his wrists and ankles. His body slumped on the ground, his breaths ragged. You could tell he was tired. Perhaps tired of fighting against the chains. You couldn’t hold back your soft sob as you ran to him. 
They had left his muzzle-like mask on him, covering the lower half of his face. The leather jacket and gloves he wore were covered in blood and dirt. A lot of blood. You knelt down in front of him and that’s when you noticed the bullet wound on his thigh. It looked fresh. 
“Bucky?” You called, reaching a hand to touch his face. He was cold to the touch, but stirred at the sound of your voice. “Bucky, come on. Wake up. Please.” You sniffled and inched closer to him, “I’m here, I’m gonna get us out of here, okay?” 
He let out a weak cough. You could barely hear it over the sound of the gunshots outside. 
“Bucky,” You tried to get the chains and shackles off of him, “Come on, wake up. We need to go home.” Your own voice cracked as you felt the silent tears streaming down your face as you were unable to get the shackles off. “Please,” You begged. 
Then as the gunshots outside faded away, you heard Bucky’s faint voice saying, “Use the gun.” 
You turned to face him. “What?” 
He spoke again, his voice raspier than usual and sounding muffled due to the mask. “Shoot at the chains.” 
Your hands trembled just a little as you reached for the gun you had brought. His gun. And you said, “Okay, don’t move.” 
You did. And only missed twice. 
Breaking the chains left the shackles still around his wrists and ankles but that could be dealt with later. You were panicking, wondering how you’d get him out of here but the guards barged in just in time. And you let out a sigh of relief when they ran straight to Bucky and carefully picked him up. 
As a couple of them managed to get Bucky in the backseat of your car, one of them let you know that there was a doctor and his assistants already waiting at home to tend to Bucky. Another one asked you what to do regarding the warehouse. 
“Burn it.” You told him. “I’ll deal with my father later, right now we need to get Bucky home.” 
On the drive home, Bucky kept trying to talk. But he was so weak he could barely get full sentences out. 
“Weren’t you mad at me?” He asked.
You sniffled and said refused to answer that. Instead you said, “Try not to talk. You’ve been shot, we don’t know how much blood you’ve lost,” You rambled. “Let’s get you to the doctor, okay?”  
“S’okay,” He mumbled, “It went through.” 
That only hurt more. “Bucky please, you need to save energy, okay? We’re almost home.” 
“They… shot me with my own gun.” He refused to keep quiet. 
At first you thought his brain was being delirious and making him ramble. Because of the pain, exhaustion, thirst, hunger. But then a weak sound left his mouth. Still muffled by the mask because no one removed it, and it sounded a lot like a very weak, faint laugh. 
“Eros got pierced by his own arrow after all.” He mumbled. 
You held back a sob. Then muttered, “I hate you so much, Bucky Barnes.” 
Another weak laugh. “No, you don’t, wife.” 
Then he passed out cold. 
— 
The next few days which followed Bucky’s rescue went by so fast and so painfully. The medical team kept close watch on him for days. Bucky was in and out of consciousness a lot. All the meds and the exhaustion kept him constantly out cold. 
The nurses and the house staff were constantly around him. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to go into his room. Not yet. You’d linger near the door and the doctors and the staff would constantly update you about his condition, but you never went in. 
Mainly it was because of shame. At what your father had done to him. But also you were still making peace with and processing your own emotions and you couldn’t face him until you were fully ready. What was important was that he was rescued and safe in his home. 
About a week later, the medical team finally left. And promised they would do frequent check ups and told you that Bucky needed a lot of rest. 
And that night, you managed to find the courage to finally step inside Bucky’s bedroom. It was a lot like yours, just larger. The room was dark when you walked in. But the open curtains allowed some light in from the outside. 
Okay. You spoke to yourself as you approached Bucky’s bed. It’s high time you find out who you married. 
Your hands shook a little as you reached for the dim lamp on his bedside table. But you turned it on quickly before you could talk yourself out of it. 
The golden light illuminated the room partly, and there he was. A little bruised, with a cut on his lip. His handsome face made you smile and tear up at the same time. You couldn’t hold back from reaching to touch his face softly, carefully. You ran your knuckles along his cheek and whispered, “There you are, ghost.” 
He stirred. And soon, a pair of sparkling blue eyes look up at you. For a moment you panicked, wondering if he would be upset. But instead he said, “This is cheating.” 
You let out a soft laugh and asked, “How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for days.” 
“I feel like beating your father up.” He mumbled. 
“Oh, same.” You agreed. Then added, “I’m so sorry for what he did to you.” 
Over the past few days, the guards had gathered what had truly happened the day Bucky went missing. Turns out, he did leave for an assignment but your father and his men had been keeping a close eye on him for days, and since the wedding was supposed to have ended all rivalry, Bucky had his guard down as he entered your father’s territory. And your father had the upper hand for once and took advantage of it. Bucky was cornered, outnumbered and taken. He was kept in that warehouse up until you found him. 
“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered, reaching for your hand on your lap. He gave your hand a soft squeeze and said, “You saved me.” 
You couldn’t look away from Bucky. It felt so intimate to finally be able to see his face. Then rather sheepishly, you asked, “Can I sleep here? I’ll be careful.” He was still injured and in pain, but you just wanted to be close to him. You needed to. 
He smirked, “Come on.” You walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers, keeping some distance between you and him. He turned to look at you and said, “Want me to leave the light on?” 
You nodded. And he did. 
— 
A lot changed after that. 
Bucky was healing from his injury and was starting to walk again. Which meant that he was home a lot. He did ‘work’ but it mainly consisted of him ordering people around on the phone. 
Him being at home meant that he followed you around as much as he physically could. He would spend time in your studio, sometimes he’d stay for hours and watch you finish your pieces. He also spent a lot more time with your dog, taking her on short walks and teaching her new tricks. 
He’d stay with you in the kitchen while you baked. He’d go with you whenever you went shopping for supplies. Bucky became your shadow. And consequently, spending this much together made you feel closer than ever to him. 
He became your best friend. 
He also became a lot more… bold. 
One night Bucky found you in his bathroom. After that night when you first slept in his bed, you hadn’t gone back to your bedroom. So now, most of your things slowly found their way into his space. Like your night time skin care products. 
Bucky crept up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. 
You met his eyes through the mirror and gave him a smile. “Your limp is nearly gone.” You announced, noticing the way he walked was so much better now. 
He gave you a look which meant nothing but mischief, “And you know what that means?” 
You could already tell where this was going. You immediately turned him down. “Bucky, we cannot. You’re still injured.” 
“But it’s been weeks.” He said it like it was the ultimate torture. “Don’t you miss those nights we spent together? Hmm?” He whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck. He knew it was one of your weaknesses. “Remember how good it feels when I make you come?” 
You sighed, letting him kiss you and hold you for a moment. “Buck… you’re still healing.” 
“Come on, baby,” He cooed, nuzzling your neck, “I’ll make it so good. I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts.” 
You almost gave in the moment he playfully bit your neck, his hands finding the belt of your robe and shamelessly undoing it before sliding in to touch your warm skin. “But,” You tried to find something even though all you wanted was to drag him to bed, “Your stitches…” Your words ended in a soft moan as his metal fingers found their way in between your legs, circling around your clit. 
Bucky growled. Growled. Then said, “Fine, you get to be on top then.” 
You froze, and let out a nervous chuckle. “But I…,” You opened your eyes and met his through the mirror. “I–,” 
“Shh, it’s okay.” He reassured you, remembering the time you told him you’d never done anything with anyone before. “I know.” He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’ll teach you.” 
And he did. Patiently. 
He took his time in undressing both of you and held your hand in his as he laid down and pulled you on top of him. 
“I’m scared I’ll hurt you.” You murmured. 
He gave you a reassuring smile. “You won’t, baby. Now come on.” 
He watched as you carefully straddled him, settling comfortably around his waist. One hand holding his metal one tightly while the other remained splayed over his chest. 
Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust as he tugged on your hand, pulling you in for a kiss. You leaned down gently and pressed your mouth to his. His warm hand immediately rubbed up and down your side lovingly. He pulled away just a little and whispered against your mouth, “We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with, okay?” 
You nodded, already breathless. 
“Tell me, baby. What do you want?” 
You told him the one thing you desperately wanted. “I want to touch you.” 
Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist, your core pressing down on his crotch. “Go on then, touch me.” He murmured. 
He watched you intently as you reached out and touched his face first. Bucky’s heart was racing, you could tell by the way he breathed, as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs, so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch. 
You gave him a teasing smile when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your naked body. 
“Don’t tease me,” He mumbled. 
You chuckled and leaned in to give him a brief kiss before hesitantly wrapping your hand around his cock. Part of the reason why you kissed him while doing it was because you were worried about your lack of experience, so you did it to distract him. 
But he caught it. And wrapped his own hand around yours, making you grip him tighter. You pulled away from the kiss and looked into his pretty eyes. Bucky was breathing heavily. You let his hand guide you as you gave him an experimental stroke, a gentle up and down movement. 
He felt thick and hard, and big. You looked down for a quick minute as you let him continue guiding your hand, lazily stroking his cock, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you looked back up at him and kissed your way down his neck, around the base of his throat, making him gasp in pleasure. 
“See?” He whispered, “You’re learning already.” He said as he slowly let go of your hand and let you touch him on your own. 
You continued exploring this new feeling. He was completely fine with just being there and letting you take your time. And you did take your time, touching him everywhere you could, stroking him as slowly or as quickly as you wanted to. Until he was so close to the edge, eyes rolled to the back of his head, lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth as  pre cum started dripping down his cock. 
Oh he was a sight to behold. But you were getting impatient, and you wanted him in you as soon as possible. So you stopped, earning a groan from him. 
“I want you,” You said. 
Bucky looked like he was barely able to hold back either. “Come on,” He held your hand again, pulled you in for a quick kiss as you straddled him properly. His hand reached down and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole, teasing you with it by sliding it up and down your slit a few times until you were whimpering. “Now sit on it baby come on,” He encouraged you as you began sinking down on him, gasping as his cock stretched you out. “You can do it.” He murmured, breathless as he watched his cock disappear inside you more and more. “That's it. All the way down, come on baby.” 
You were a moaning mess by the time you sunk all the way down, impaling yourself down on his cock. Fuck. You had never felt so full before. So fucking full. 
“You okay, baby?” He asked, holding you by your hips, moving you back and forth just a little bit to create some friction. 
You nodded, moaning at the slight movement. 
“Want me to help you move?” He asked, lips parted and he had that wild look in his eyes.
Fuck, he was beautiful. 
“Yes, please,” You whined, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself for what was coming. 
He wasted no time. Bucky grabbed you by the hips and helped you move up and down his cock. Your wet warmth wrapped all around him, making him swear under his breath and groan at how good you felt. 
You couldn’t look away from his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and feeling him twitch inside you. 
“Look at you.” He cooed. “Look how well you're taking it.” 
You couldn’t help but lean in to kiss his open mouth. He was so perfect. He was everything you had ever dreamt of, you realised. 
His metal fingers moved to touch your clit while you rode his cock, teasing you and bringing you closer to that edge. It wouldn’t take much. You were so overwhelmed already. 
“Bucky…” You whined, dragging your hands down and pressing both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him around his thigh area, where he was shot. 
Bucky watched you, your breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you got so, so close to the edge. 
And he knew. So he quickened his pace, still moving you up and down his cock while he rubbed your throbbing clit. 
“Baby, I’m gonna need you to come for me, okay?” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. His desperation was quite clear. He began to thrust his hips up even harder, matching your movements.
The air around you got hotter, and that look in his eyes made you want to live in this moment forever. Bucky was the most beautiful mess you’d ever seen. A sweaty, moaning mess under you, messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. 
You were sure you looked like a mess too as you felt your walls clench around him, gripping him and milking him perfectly. 
“Come for me,” He whispered, “Come on, baby.” 
You came without a warning, crying out loud and impaling yourself down on him one last time as you did. Bucky thrust up into you one last time and came undone as well, both of you breathing hard and fast. 
You carefully got up from his lap and laid down beside him, body limp and slightly sore in between your legs. 
You were still catching your breath as you asked, “Did I hurt you?” You sounded just as worried as you were. 
Bucky chuckled. “I should be the one asking you that.” 
You smiled and snuggled into his side, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer. 
“I’m fine, baby.” He said and kissed your forehead. 
You both laid there in silence for a while. 
Cuddling and relishing each other’s warmth, caressing each other’s skin. 
You felt his fingers drawing random shapes on your back as you laid your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeats against your cheek. You felt the need to ask him, “Why were you so against showing yourself to me?” 
He gave you a soft chuckle. “You just can’t let that go, huh?” 
“Nope.” 
He sighed, pulling you closer. “I was… afraid.” 
You frowned. “Afraid of what?” You pulled away and looked up at him. “Why did you hide this pretty face from me?” You gave him a quick kiss on his chest as you waited for his answer. 
He sighed again. “Everywhere I go, I… whenever people see me up close, it’s already too late. They don’t see a human anymore, they see death staring back at them.” He paused. You remained quiet. He continued. “I see it, you know? In their eyes. When they look at me and plead, or beg, or curse me.” A humourless laugh, then, “After some years of that, I began seeing it in the mirror as well. I saw the same thing they see. After years of brutality, and killing, and spilling blood,” A soft chuckle, “Years of being an evil Eros as you call it, I grew to hate my face.” 
You felt tears forming at your waterline but you couldn’t look away from him. Not when he was being so brave and vulnerable. 
He continued. “And then before our wedding, I looked you up.” He confessed, a little embarrassed. “And you were so beautiful.” He looked you right in the eyes and repeated, “You are so beautiful. I guess, I didn’t want you to look at me and see death, and ugly and all the other dark stuff. I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes, the same one I see in everyone. That look of fear and disgust.” He finally admitted, “So I thought, I’d just hide and be a ghost.” 
“My ghost.” You corrected him, reaching out to cup his chin in your palm. “And I’m gonna need you to never stop haunting me.” You said, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on his lips. “I want you to always be in the shadows. Be with me, even in the dark.” You gave him a smile. “I look at you now and you know what I see? I see a man who treated me with respect. A man who wouldn’t touch me unless I asked for it. A man who gave me so much space for my creativity.” A faint smile, then you added, “You made me fall in love with art all over again, and now everything I paint, I paint with you in my mind.” 
He gave you a smile which both broke and mended your heart. 
“Oh Buck,” You cupped his gorgeous face with both hands and said, “You’re not death, or scary, or any other dark shit. You’re mine, and I love you.” 
He pulled you in for a kiss so quickly you barely processed it. “And I love you.” 
You giggled into the kiss and only pulled away when you were breathless. You kissed your way down his chin and nuzzled his neck, sighing in delight. 
Bucky said, “I think I should retire.” 
“Hmm,” You asked, “And what would you do in retirement?” 
“Watch you paint, raise our dog, adopt some more animals, attend your art exhibitions, and eventually make some babies with you.” He listed it all so easily. 
“Sounds like a plan.” You agreed.
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two-white-butterflies · 1 month ago
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you'll live forever | part one
Description: Hwang In-ho joins the newest edition of Squid Games as Player 001. He sees the wife that he believes to be dead, and she cannot remember him.
Pairing: hwang in-ho/reader
A/N: I love Squid Games but let us not allow the capitalism-fication of this franchise to let us forget about the series' core message. capitalism sucks. Don't let violence desensitize us. Warning: idk if I used the word hyung correctly... multipart, comment to get tagged.
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There were times when he'd wake up too early in the morning when the sun would greet his sensitive eyes, and he'd take a longer time to adjust to the brightness. In those rare moments, he sees the faint silhouette of your body, in those rare times, he even smells your cherry blossom perfume.
A sigh escapes his mouth as he sinks further into the sheets.
No matter how far his hands reach out - you won't be there to hold it.
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"I have work tomorrow, I don't want to drink." A complaint escapes In-ho's mouth as his younger brother drags him to the nearest bar. In-ho has never been fond of spending time around other people, he'd much rather focus on work and getting that new promotion...
"Who said anything about drinking, hyung? You promised me that you'd make time to meet my girlfriend," the younger man rolls his eyes, dragging his brother to the center of the room where everyone was huddled near the television. Yep, soccer. "My schedule is cleared next Saturday," In-ho raises an eyebrow.
"Oppa!!" He hears someone scream at the top of their lungs, and his brother quickly makes her way towards the woman - greeting her with a hug. 'Young love,' In-ho thinks to himself, as he turns to look the other way - he suddenly catches a glimpse of someone.
You.
One.
His eyes trailed upwards, soaking in the sight of your face. He sees his future inside of your eyes, your perfect lips, the way you slowly begin to smile at him.
Two.
His gaze trails downwards as he sees the beautiful dress that you're wearing. He begins to praise the summer days, his eyes brushing against your creamy thighs, making his heart thump erratically.
Three.
"Hyung, this is my girlfriend Hee-jo and that's her friend. What was your name again?" His brother turns to look at you, and that smile deepens - your eyes meeting his. "My name's In-ho," he greets, and you mumble your name underneath your breath, shaking his hand.
"I'm sorry for tagging along Jun-ho. Hee-jo's dad made me come with," You blushed. In fear that you were intruding on the couple's personal moment. "Don't worry, you're like a sister to me." Jun-ho chuckles, sitting beside Hee-jo - leaving his brother with no choice but to sit beside you.
As Hee-jo raises her hand to drink a glass of beer, the entire bar erupts into a cacophony of cheers - South Korea has earned a point! Everyone stands up, but In-ho and you remain seated.
He smiles, watching you cheer for the motherland.
This particular memory has been burned into his mind. It only took him three seconds to see you and fall in love. "Yay," you giggled after the bartenders announced a round of drinks on the house. And after that encounter, fate seemed to smile on you both.
He remembers all the memories, the good and bad.
He also remembers your first date. It was the first winter of 2008. "You were born in 1976?" You raised an eyebrow, continuing to stuff your face with beef and lettuce. "Yes, is there something wrong with that?" He pretended to look offended.
'How old is she?' his eyebrows merged together.
He places a piece of kimchi inside his mouth. "How old are you?" He asks, cursing himself for forgetting to ask Jun-ho. "I was born in 1986. I honestly thought that you were much younger," you pouted.
'That would make her...' he calculates your age in the back of his mind. Ten years younger than him! He almost bites his tongue. "Is that going to be a problem?" He tilts his head. He definitely does not have a chance with someone like you, so beautiful and young.
"No, I like older men." You say bluntly. He almost spits out his drink, earning a giggle from you. "Ouch," he pretends to be hit. "So, what is it exactly that you do for work?" You ask with a smile, happily eating your meal. "I'm a police officer. I mostly do detective cases, what about you?" He inquires with interest.
"I just graduated. I work at the hospital." You informed.
"Are you a doctor?" He asks.
"No, I'm a nurse. It's always been a dream of mine," your eyes sparkle at the mention of making your dreams a reality. "Saving people," you quickly added. "- I guess you feel the same way too, since you're a police officer." You pointed out.
In-ho nods.
"I guess we are the same," he continues nodding. The entire date, the smile does not leave his lips...then,
One date, becomes two, becomes a thousand.
And finally, you are getting married to him.
"Hey, are you okay?" In-ho wraps his arms around you, preparing to meet your guests who are waiting in the reception. A deep sigh escapes your mouth. "I'm scared," you confessed. He wraps his arms around you, already aware of your fears.
"I mean everyone's going to be from your side of the family - and everyone's already talking about how I don't have parents." You chuckled nervously. All these ajummas won't stop talking about your personal life. In-ho has even contemplated not inviting them at all, but his father insisted. "Fuck them," he shakes his head, cupping your cheeks and pressing a tender kiss on your forehead.
"Let's enjoy our wedding," he smiles.
"I love you, In-ho." You repeated.
"I love you more," he responded.
He has always loved you more.
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The beautiful days of the roses were over, he was only left with the darkness of the night. "ESRD," the doctor opened his mouth to speak. "How dangerous is it?" In-ho fights against that heaving feeling in the back of his throat.
"ESRD, End Stage Renal Disease is where the kidney can no longer support the body's needs. Most typically, I would recommend dialysis in moderate cases, but for severe cases, I strongly advise a kidney transplant. Your wife has a very common blood type, it will be easy to get a match, but that's not the problem." The doctor hesitates, In-ho recognizes the man to be one of your closest friends.
He hands In-ho a stack of files.
"It's expensive to pay for kidney transplants in this country. There is a waiting list for donors, but it'll take decades - there are some who sell their kidneys but it costs almost a billion won, and then there's the medicine, the operation, and the hospital. It takes a lot of money and she's one of my closest friends so please feel free to reach out to me. I can give a bit of what I have." The doctor rambles.
Whatever it takes, even when the cost is too high.
₩649,344,412
In-ho stares at the cost of your transplant, and he knows that he doesn't have that money. "We'll be fine," he tells himself.
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"I need to borrow money," In-ho stares at the loanshark. The man looked like a typical gangster, with tattoos all over his forearm, and the smell of cigarettes looming over the air.
"The high and mighty detective borrowing money from someone like me?" The man teased. In-ho has been watching this man for the past two years, waiting for a mistake - the loanshark's #1 enemy, and now begging at his doorsteps for money. "10% interest rate, you pay every month." The loanshark emphasized.
His cronies laugh, and one of them continues to massage him.
"5% and you give me the cash today," In-ho demands, an air of authority radiating around him. "Borrow money from someone else," the man scoffs. "- I know about the money laundering." In-ho leans cooly on the chair, pretending to be confident about the situation.
"6%," the man clenches his jaw.
"You have yourself a deal," In-ho agrees.
After the secret meeting, the loanshark got arrested. In-ho was fired from his job - the superiors believed that he was bribed to hide the loanshark's secret. And then he got a call from a random number.
He played ddakji with a strangely well-dressed man in the middle of the subway station, and he joined the 28th Squid Games.
He won the 28th Squid Games.
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He exited the black van, his white shoes meeting the dirty ground. He stands to look at your home, everyone is staring at him. "What are you doing here!" Hee-jo screams at him. "She's dead, you didn't even visit her, she's dead!" Hee-jo yells.
In-ho stares in shock, looking around him, to see different types of flowers scattered all over the porch. 'I have the money,' he wanted to say as tears spilled out of his irises. "How dare you come here." Hee-jo continued crying as her grip on his forearm tightens, hurting him.
"In-ho," his younger brother looks shocked to see him.
"I'm sorry," In-ho mumbles.
I'm sorry.
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Comment to get tagged for PT. 2
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femmeroll · 2 months ago
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okay i fear i enjoyed writing about older!sevika too much so here’s more i guess!
sevika x fem reader
cw: fluff and a tiny bit of smut, age gap, modern setting, sexting, sevika is old bless her heart
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older!sevika is so bad at technology it’s insane. she’s gen x, okay! she didn’t grow up with it like you did! it takes her forever to figure out apple carplay in her truck. once she does she plays the playlist you made her every time she drives.
she has no profile picture on spotify and her username is ‘Sevika123456’. you’re her only follower.
older!sevika gets so awkward when you take pictures of her. she’ll turn her head away or cover her face whenever you get your phone out.
“baby, no pictures please. i don’t wanna be on your snapchats or whatever.”
“it’s just for my camera roll, sev, relax. smile for me, handsome. so cute!”
older!sevika has a framed picture of you two in her office at work. (thank you to my friend who said modern sev would be a psychologist bc im obsessed)
one of her clients asks about ‘the girl in the picture’ after a session. she goes twenty minutes overtime gushing about you to her client who literally doesn’t care at all.
older!sevika still has cable and refuses to get rid of it. CNN is the default channel of her tv. she doesn’t understand paying for a million streaming services even though she pays for like…so many channels that she doesn’t even watch.
“look, sweetie. i recorded all the episodes of your favorite show for you. can netflix do that?”
“yes, sevika. netflix absolutely does that.”
older!sevika doesn’t understand any of your niche internet references. if you’re hopelessly chronically online like me, you are constantly quoting the most random shit.
she tried on a suit for some event for you once. you looked at her and said “who is the diva?” and poor sevi was so confused :( she has no idea what all that means.
older!sevika has a piece of masking tape over her laptop camera because she’s convinced that the government is watching her.
when she gets an add for something online that she was talking about the day before, she’ll immediately tell you that the government heard her.
older!sevika freaks out when you start sexting her randomly. she’s hella confused at first but sorta gets it after a while.
‘i’m touching myself thinking about u sev :/ i miss ur body so much’
‘Wow! 🔥🤤 I will be home soon.’
‘were the emojis really necessary’
in conclusion older!sevika has my fuckin heart🤍 i’m so in love with her it’s insane
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splatfest · 1 year ago
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18, 20, 23 (Music asks) <3
from the year that you were born (2002):
+ headfirst for halos - my chemical romance + the fix is in - ok go
that has many meanings to you:
+ cable through your heart - bryan scary
that you think everyone should listen to:
+ sad boys - dazey and the scouts + saturdays for the boys (saturdays for the boys) - 1 trait danger
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misteria247 · 4 months ago
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I think one of the most tragic things is Caryn Pines and motherhood.
Like when we see her, it's quite obvious that she loves her sons. And that like many families, has a soft spot for Stanley. Because he's the possible baby of the family, her little surprise, her free spirit. Out of everyone other than Ford, Caryn was someone who loved Stanley. And who was in his corner. An example of this was when her husband and Ford were excited about the school and she immediately cut in to ask-
"What about Stanley?"
Just from that little bit we can see that she loves him. That she's always thinking of her son. So imagine you're her, and then you lose your son because your husband kicked him out. A teenager who can't face the world yet, and yet you're powerless to do anything. So you have to wait for your boy to reach out to you, and every day you wonder if he's somewhere safe. If he's someplace warm, and if he's eating a hot meal and sleeping in a warm bed. And for awhile that gives you some sort of comfort, because your baby's still out there somewhere. Not with you, but still in this world.
And then you hear about it.
The firey car crash.
And the person in that inferno was your son. Your free spirit, your baby.
Can you imagine, how devastating that'd be? To learn that your son is dead, and had died alone and in pain and fear. And the kicker?
There wasn't even a funeral held for him.
It's almost as if Stanley never existed. Like he was never important. And that probably ate at Caryn Pines in ways that cut deeply. Because Stanley was important to her, was important to Stanford and now he's gone and she didn't even get to say goodbye to her boy. She'll forever have a hole in her heart, a piece missing because her Stanley is gone. And she'll never be able to fill it because no one can replace her baby. And we don't know if Caryn's still alive or not, so there's the horrifying possibility. That she died believing that Stan was dead. That she died in her grief that only a mother can feel. That she died, unaware that the boy she grieved for was next to her the entire time. Forced to pretend to be his brother, in order to save him from his own creation and fix mistakes that he believes he made that hurt Ford.
So close to her son, yet so far away.
A tragedy.
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justporo · 9 months ago
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So you'll see tomorrow
A/N: Seeing a beautiful piece of artwork by @velnna and listening to Half life by Livingston I got a very angsty idea for a drabble (so be warned, it's sad). This idea came to me first a while back listening to Just a Man (you know from *that* BG3 edit). @velnna as always thanks for letting me play with your son - and sorry I hurt him... Also thank you to Dad on Maf's discord server for the inspo for the final line.
Warnings: implied character death (but this is just an alternate timeline ok??), self sacrifice
~~~
So this was it.
This is how they would all die.
There was no way they would defeat the Netherbrain. All their endeavours that led them here, all for naught. Unless…
Staeve saw it in his eyes first. How their expression changed from swimming and hopeless to hardened and determined. Astarion’s brows drew together - the crease they created between them as sharp as his daggers he lifted up once more.
“Staeve.”
He had never heard his voice like this. The tone as sharp as a knife and hard as rock.
It scared him.
“I’m going to create an opening for you. Be ready.”
Fear dug its claws into Staeve’s throat, choking him, as he began to realise what was about to happen.
“No,” the half-drow whispered, weakly grabbing for his lover’s wrists with all of his remaining strength.
“Astarion, no! You can’t do this!”
Panic gave Staeve new power. Helped him to forcefully turn Astarion around to him. Helped him make his love stare into his eyes as he screamed at him again. And again.
He shook him, even making the daggers drop from his pale, blood-speckled fingers.
Staeve kept screaming, feeling his voice become hoarse, hot streams of tears washing away the grime and gore as they made their way down his face.
But as he kept throwing everything at Astarion he noticed ruby eyes remaining hard and unfaltering. The decision had been made.
The last of his strength went with his last drop of hope as Staeve’s hands fell weakly from Astarion’s. His legs gave up, knees hit the ground hard.
And only then did Astarion shift, taking a final step back before making the run-up.
He dropped down in front of Staeve who could only stare up at him anymore.
“Let me do this one thing right, Staeve,” he whispered solemnly, cupping his love’s face. “Just this once let me make things right.”
Staeve’s vision was blurred, his head swimming. But he still clearly saw the warmth in Astarion’s eyes as he leaned his forehead to Staeve’s.
Astarion’s hand wandered to the nape of his neck as he pressed his eyes closed. “Promise me, you’ll live for me, Staeve. To the fullest.” When the vampire opened his eyes again, Staeve was sure there were tears in Astarion’s eyes as well.
There was nothing in Staeve to do or say. He wasn’t in control of anything anymore it felt like. Not even his own body as he solely kept listening to Astarion’s final words.
“And promise me,” the vampire continued, voice breaking, “sometimes - when you sit in the sun - you’ll think of me, Staeve. Promise me.”
Astarion only waited only long enough for Staeve to weakly nod, seemingly the only thing he was still capable of.
Then he crushed his mouth to his lover’s, the motion so forceful their teeth crashed together.
Desperation had them kiss so hard it hurt, that it felt like perishing already. Astarion’s hand on Staeve’s neck pressed down so hard it felt like bones might crush. A single last breath was passed between them as their lips moved against each other as they tried to make this the most vivid moment they had ever experienced.
One so he could never possibly forget this final kiss - how it had felt.
The other so he would go to his end, with the taste of his lover on his lips.
When a small eternity ended and Astarion broke away he grabbed Staeve’s face a final time.
“I know in another life, I would have loved you forever,” Astarion uttered with a smile.
Then he let go, Staeve almost toppling over, suddenly void of anything still lifting him up.
Astarion grabbed his daggers, turned around with a last glance and a smirk - and then he leapt.
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yanderenightmare · 7 months ago
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TW: yandere, domestic violence, abuse, suicidal ideations, suicide attempts, accidental murder, death
gn reader
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You should have never fallen in love with someone so brash, but you like seeing the good in people much to the abuse of your own. Still, rough around the edges as he was, you’d never thought he’d become such a monster.
The first time he slapped you, you were so shocked you’d ended up the one who apologized—all the way convinced you must have deserved it. And ever since then, you’ve only accumulated more bruises in areas you can’t explain.
You’re in the bathroom now. The door’s locked, but you don’t think it’ll keep him out for long.
“Open the door, babe—I didn’t mean it.”
You don’t even know if he has himself convinced of that or if he’s just saying it to soothe you. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that your wrist and rib are broken. You’re so terrified you think you might end up dying from the fear alone, sitting in the bathtub just waiting for the inevitable.
You don’t have a phone—it was taken when an old boyfriend had texted. You’d share his from then on, he said—better that way so he can keep track of you. It’s strange, but somehow, you believed it was rather romantic. 
You were going to leave this time. It would be so simple. He was at work, and you’d just leave everything and walk right out the door. But there was an incident at the office which made him come home early only to catch you red-handed heading out the door you know you’re not supposed to open without him.
You’d been so panicked you’d tried running—but there was really no chance. His arms caught you hard, and the floor he threw you back on met you even harder—hence the snapped bones.
Still, you’d managed to scramble to the bathroom with just enough time to lock it behind you.
And now you were left all out of options.
“Open the door, we’ll talk. Maybe I misunderstood.” His voice had calmed down now. He’d been at it for a while—he sounded more airy, teetering on frantic, and it only served to scare you even more. “I know it can get pretty cramped in ‘ere all alone. Maybe you were just getting some fresh air, is all?” He left the question a couple of seconds worth of breath before sending his fist into the door. “Come on, answer me!”
You were sobbing. He might actually kill you this time. God knows you’ve thought he would other times with both his hands wrapped tight around your throat, stringing you up, making you lose voice for days.
You thought about it—the razor blades in the drawer. It seemed like the only option left. Better you than him, right? He’d make it painful. Or worse, he might not go through with it at all, and you’d be stuck living with him forever.
That really did seem worse than death, you thought, sitting on the floor while holding the shiny metal piece to your wrist. Which way was best to cut again? Right. It’ll be quick, and then it’ll be over.
You don’t even hear the door breaking down before he’s on you. You don’t even realize you’ve cut before you see the red. You don’t even know whose blood it is before he gags on it—before it splutters from his mouth upon your face and the slice on his neck splits upon and gushes out like a waterfall all over your clothes.
He drops to the floor with a heavy thud a moment later.
The blood is so warm you don’t even understand how he’s dead.
You even think about stopping the bleeding for a moment, but then it suddenly settles. And then along, shortly after, the understanding that you’d killed him.
The razor hits the bloody tiles with no sound—it’s all so thick it splats before sinking, disappearing slowly. You swallow once, but you’re throat is all but dry. Even the tears had stopped in the shock.
You spot the phone on the floor, having slid from his pocket—moments away from drowning in the blood that seems to just continue seeping and spreading forever. Something within you grabs it before it can.
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
“Hi! Uhm… I’ve just killed my boyfriend.”
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♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Enji, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ DS – Akaza, Inosuke, Sanemi
♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist
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