#trying to stay positive but I feel so bad for him

[misseverandever]

I CAN READ THIS, AND I WILL! LET’S GOOOOOOO!

omg was not on my 2024 bingo that I’m actually gonna read Melinda’s set for Anya

FRIST CARD: FOUR OF CUPS (the past)

that’s symbolizes Anya past implicating on her present, the cart indicates a need to experiences something new that brings joy and fills this empty space, something we see in our little girl eyes and i’m happy to see she’s doing good cuz in the past she certainly was a person that spends their days with their head down.

SECOND CARD: DEATH (the present)

The upright Death tarot card symbolizes transformation and the beginning of something new. It represents closing a chapter, leaving past experiences behind, we can think about Anya maturing and liberating from the trauma! Well in relationship (anya question) suggests the relationship may be stuck in a stagnant or unproductive dynamic, what we definitely can see, she tell his mother that he bullies her

THIRD CARD: THREE OF SWORDS (hidden influences)

The unseen problem huh? There’s a lot of them, well Donovan, Twilight, Operation Stixs… etc etc….

Whenever this card appears in a reading, it indicates conflict, disappointment, and misunderstanding (Well that’s definitely is the case), maybe Damian is definitely gonna be sad about why her approach to him, we know this is real cuz Damian already say before about people approaching him just because he is a Desmond and we know Anya have the same goal, but no worries is gonna be difficult but it can be resolved (they need to talk about this) !!!!

FORTH CARD: THE STAR (ANYA)

The Star in the upright position symbolizes hope, inspiration, and peace for the future. BUT is in the reversed position, so Anya reflects the feelings of hopelessness, confusion, and doubt as her navigate life's challenges and question circumstances. We see Melinda like that, and surprisingly Anya feel empty for her!

(So cute Anya being the star)

FIFTY CARD: TEN OF PENTACLES (the influence of others)

What kinds of external influences are dominating the situation? Well all of them! This card is important because it influences how others close to the Querent feel about the situation. AND GUESS ITS ALL RIGHT! This is a very positive card, and its positivity indicates that the path of challenges and difficulties has already been traveled, and now is the time to reap what is deserved. INNN THE RELATION WAAAAY (remember Anyas question not just because you know… i’m a shipper) is gonna be an harmony between them, whit a lot of happiness, cuties!

SIXTH CARD: ACE OF CUPS (what Anya have to do)

We see he is receiving, It’s often represents sadness, loss, and frustration, signaling difficulty in connecting. We know Damian is a difficult person, Anya have to deal with his feelings, is an important thing to do cuz if she don’t, they will not be together.

SEVENTH CARD: THREE OF WANDS (final results)

This last card is important because it takes into account all the six previous cards in its response. Here, we have an indicator of what the final resolution to the problem will be.

In this spread, the energy here is one of movement, so Anya cannot (and will not) stay still and she cannot try to handle everything alone.

The card indicates complicity, true love, and a strong connection. Sooo don't worry, as the frendship is real, and they will overcome it together.

SHE KNOWS!

SORRY MY ENGLISH IS KINDA BAD SO CAN YOU GUYS PLEASE FORGIVE ANY ERRORS IN THE TEXT? I was so exited to reed this, if you need tarot read dm me 🫶

[ghostlycod]

thinking about ghost or price (but especially ghost) with plus-size!reader is so 🤤

MDNI ; NSFW

cw: use of the word “fat” (I refuse to view it as a bad word and so does ghost), mentions of being bullied and mentions of mothers being judgmental (weren’t all of our first bullies our own mothers?), piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl, folks. I mean I don’t but I have a breeding kink and don’t mind getting knocked up, so), mutual orgasm, dirty talk, use of the phrase “good girl,” creampie

————————————————————————-

fat

he knows how much you hate that word. it’s the word that’s been thrown at you all your life. playground bullies, ex-boyfriends, hell even your own mother would berate you with it. and you tried your best to tough it out, you know? to not let things get to you, to keep your head high and stay confident. but it’s chipped away at you, he can see it. the way you try to hide yourself, make yourself smaller, thinking if you just don’t talk too loud or don’t move around too much it will make it so you take up less space. clothes that hide the delicious curves he’s been thinking about everyday since he met you.

and that fat is all of what he loves. sliding his length in and out of you slow but hard, watching as the shockwaves of his blunt force ripple across your thick thighs as he sinks home. he’s so greedy with his gaze, drinking in every inch of your perfectly plump body.

“been keeping this from me? trying to hide?” he groans from deep in his chest as he bottoms out inside you, sliding home with a loud, wet squelch from your pussy, making you bite down on your bottom lip and keen.

“askin’ me to turn the lights off.” he huffs a laugh as his hips pick up the pace and you feel him right there, with the perfect tempo and pressure. “nah, nah, nah. you’re gonna let me see ev’ry part of ya, lovey.”

and every part is exactly what he gets. he flips you into every position you never thought anyone would ever take you in. with your legs spread lewdly over his shoulders, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your hips, then ghosting their way over your soft stomach to grip at your jiggling thighs, pussy taking a pounding that can only leave you making those little ah ah ah sounds, squeezing his cock involuntarily because you’re—

“close. soooo close” you moan, trying to bury your face into the blankets bunched up around your head.

“I know, I know,” he coos. takes one hand off your thighs that he’s been holding steady and cups your cheek with it, turning you to face him. “cum for me.” it’s not a request. you hitch your breath, fighting the pleasure for reasons you can’t explain.

“cum for me, lovey” he says again, softer this time, as he stares deeply into your eyes.

and the look in his eyes is undeniable. you do exactly as your told, pleasure surmounting to the most intense peak of your life as it tumbles through your body like an avalanche, stealing your breath and burying your cries beneath the weight of its pleasure.

“that’s it. thas it. thassit.” his words slur together as he loses himself in you. “such a good girl. hmnph,” he cuts himself off with a groan, hips slamming into your gushing pussy wildly. “good girl. squeezingmesogoodgirl.”

he grips you by the hips and clutches you to him as he buries his cock inside of you with one final push, trembling as he folds over you, and you feel the sudden gush as his spend shoots into your cervix. he holds your bodies together like that, not a single inch leaving you as he slowly rocks your two bodies together while his cock pumps his spend inside of you until he’s empty.

you’re both breathless and shaking in the bed, bodies bound together. he focuses his eyes on your face at last, brushing the hair from your face with a surprising tenderness for someone with such rough hands.

“y’alrigh’?” he asks.

you can only nod your head vigorously, making him chuckle. he kisses your temple.

“good. good girl,” he mumbles into your hair, giving your thick thighs a little jiggle with his hand. you almost shy away from him, but one glimpse at his face tells you not to run away. this is exactly what he’s here for, exactly what he likes. and he’ll be damned if you hide from him any longer. so, you don’t. you settle into his hold politely, pressing your body deeper into his, and you don’t shrink away as his hands start to roam your flesh, massaging your fat just as he likes.

“that’s my girl,” he practically purrs at you.

————————————————————————-

[riotwritesthings]

An Agony We Deserve (Throwing Off Sparks)

WinterIron - M, 9.9k, WIP - reluctant soulmates, thriller/horror?, CW salt, not particularly Steve friendly, violence

There are legends. Soulmate bonds have started and ended wars, they used to reshape the world without any warning. People would change in an instant, abandon and betray everything, become completely unrecognizable, but those are just legends- It can’t be- But they are.

This chapter got a wee bit long, but hopefully it was worth the wait! and yes I took some liberties with the Mark XV armor, but only a couple.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

~~~

Chapter 5: what will I do

An awful mechanical rattling sound snaps Tony awake.

He flails his way upright, his back immediately complaining about the position he’d slept in. His elbow collides with something hard and Bucky grunts beside him.

Tony blinks into the dark of the cabin around him, trying to remember moving to the couch, or when night fell-

It finally clicks that the loud clanging sound is coming from the ancient phone on the wall, and there’s only one person who’s likely to call here.

Bucky’s hands reach out to steady him as Tony climbs clumsily to his feet. He barely detangles their legs in time to avoid falling on his face, and he’s not sure when that happened either.

His head pounds in time with the ringing of the phone as he stumbles across the small shack. When he lifts the receiver the noise finally cuts off, and Tony is pretty sure that Bucky echoes his relieved sigh.

He clears his throat and presses the phone to his ear, trying to ignore the awful taste in his mouth. Like liquor and a mix of the preserves he half-remembers finishing both jars of, and just a hint of vomit.

“Big Bob’s Burger Hut,” Tony says in greeting, his voice still hoarse with sleep.

“Bad news,” Rhodey says without preamble.

"I can’t believe you woke me up for bad news," Tony grumbles, his nose wrinkling as he smacks his lips. He needs water-

He hasn’t even finished the thought before Bucky pushes himself off the couch and heads for the kitchen. The wave of gratitude that rushes over Tony makes him sway on his already unsteady feet, and he watches avidly as Bucky starts filling two glasses of water.

Even in the dark, with just the glow of the moon filtered through the window and the cracks in the roof, watching Bucky move is almost hypnotic. The bunch and pull of his shoulders, the shift of muscle along his back as his tips his head back to down a glass of water in one go.

Tony can still feel the warmth of where they must have been pressed together as they slept, along his legs and his entire left side. As Bucky turns towards him, he’s struck with a half-memory of falling asleep to the steady pattern of Bucky’s pulse beneath his ear-

“And I can’t believe you didn’t answer with a restaurant more on-theme for Lithuania, which is where I know you are,” Rhodey shoots back pointedly, breaking into Tony’s wandering thoughts.

“What?” He demands, his spine straightening in alarm.

“Ross traced your call yesterday, he-”

"How?" Tony interrupts, “how did he get the okay for that? I thought you and your phone both have super-top-secret clearances that keep Ross up at night with jealousy?”

“I don’t know,” Rhodey says with an audible roll of his eyes, "it seemed more important to figure out what he knows, rather than how."

“Good point,” Tony allows, “please continue.”

He gratefully takes the glass of water that Bucky hands him, then shakes his head minutely when Bucky gives him a questioning look. So instead of pretending he’s not listening, Bucky stays close as Rhodey starts to explain.

"It doesn’t seem like he got the content of the call, although it might just be that you told me a grand total of nothing useful," Rhodey says. He sounds tired, and it occurs to Tony that if Rhodey is still in Germany it’s also the middle of the night for him. “What I do know is that he tracked down exactly where you are, and he’s already sent a team to pick the two of you up.”

“Shit,” Tony says with feeling. He flicks his gaze up from watching Bucky’s thumb tap anxiously against his glass to meet the man’s eye, and Bucky nods. “Okay,” he says as as Bucky wordlessly steps away, “okay, we’ll get moving again-”

“That’s not all,” Rhodey interrupts, “apparently Rogers found out too, because he and Wilson just busted out of custody in Berlin.”

“Great,” Tony groans and Bucky pauses in gathering supplies to glance at him.

“Ross has the resources, but Rogers is a man possessed, and my money is on him finding you first,” Rhodey says. “So if I were you, I’d be getting ready to explain why you stole his other half.”

That choice of wording has a strangled laugh bursting out of Tony’s chest. Rhodey has no idea just how right he is, and Tony doesn’t know how he’s supposed to explain it.

Bucky flinches a little as he stands at the sink filling spare jars with water.

“Don’t be jealous, SourPatch,” Tony says, his voice tight despite his best efforts. “I have no idea what to say to him either.”

He’s not sure which would be worse, being caught by Ross' team or being confronted by Steve.

Either way, he’s pretty sure someone is going to try and take Bucky from him. He can’t let that happen, they- They decided to stay together. He won’t let anyone separate them.

But all Tony has on him is a prototype watch gauntlet, which could really use a charge after their last fight to escape. He needs something-

“How soon can you get to one of my workshops?” He asks in a rush, shoving his fingers through his hair.

“I’m almost back to New York, heading there now,” Rhodey replies without missing a beat despite the long pause. “Pepper and I are going to see what we can find and actually share from SI and your files to continue fighting the Hydra rumors.”

Bucky’s lips pull into a frown, guilt flooding through him again. Tony can feel it filling Bucky’s chest as he gathers up the shirt and suit jacket Tony scattered around the shack.

“Perfect,” Tony says, his attention on the tense line of Bucky’s shoulders. “And while you’re at it, tell FRIDAY to run Find My Friend, version 3.15.”

Rhodey huffs, but doesn’t ask. “Will do. Stay safe, Tones.”

“You too,” Tony says distractedly. He hurries to hang up so he can turn his attention to Bucky and say, “Stop being sorry.”

That has Bucky’s head jerking up, and he looks at Tony wide-eyed for a second. Then he drops his gaze and starts loudly gathering up an armful of jars.

“It’s not your fault that people think I might be with Hydra now,” Tony insists as crosses the shack to start grabbing jars too. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long for those particular rumors to start, I’ve heard just about everything else. Plus, it’s not even your fault that people think you’re Hydra, so stop feeling guilty over things that aren’t your fault. It’s really bumming me out.”

Bucky doesn’t reply, but his worried frown lessens a little and his shoulders relax.

They load up their stolen truck without talking, focused on moving quickly. More than once Tony catches Bucky pausing to stare out into the night, like he’s listening for something.

Last thing before they head out, Tony leaves most of the cash from his wallet on the table, more than enough to cover all the jars and the samanė. Just in case whoever owns this place ever intends to come back, although he’s pretty sure it’s abandoned.

As he tucks his wallet away he realizes that Bucky is watching him, an odd look on his face. But he just shakes his head when Tony raises an eyebrow at him.

Without a word they agree that Bucky should drive, and they pull away from the shack with all of the truck's lights turned off.

---

“Are you sure this is apple?” Tony asks, his nose wrinkling.

He squints down into the jar of preserves. Dawn has barely started to glow on the horizon, and in the weak light he can’t quite make out the color.

“Pretty sure,” Bucky says with a snort of laughter. He doesn’t turn his gaze away from the dark of the dirt road in front of them, but when Tony starts to stick his fork back into the jar he protests, “Quit stealin’ my apples if you don’ even like 'em.”

“Excuse me, we both stole these from some poor unsuspecting farmer, I can eat and not enjoy them if I want,” Tony argues. “Plus, I haven’t decided yet. I’m still not convinced this isn’t- crabapples, or something.”

“Give it here,” Bucky demands, holding a hand out.

Tony considers protesting, but whatever fruit is preserved in this jar is leaving a weird aftertaste on his tongue. So he shoves the fork into the jar and hands it over with a final ‘ick’ noise.

Then he has to try not to stare as Bucky shoves the jar between his thighs, pulling the denim tight across thick muscles.

Now that Tony is more awake, last night is less hazy. He remembers moving to the couch when his back started to complain about sitting on the floor. He remembers the liquor hitting him again, and he’s pretty sure Bucky had wrapped an arm around him without protest when Tony tipped over into him.

He definitely remembers their legs tangling as Bucky made himself comfortable, too. Bucky's fingers carding through his hair as he drifted off.

And now Tony is having trouble thinking about anything but Bucky’s warm weight against him, wrapped around him. Their newest stolen farm truck isn’t big, but Bucky still feels entirely too far away.

But not so far that if Tony were to reach out-

“Then what?” Bucky asks, and it takes Tony a second to remember what the hell they had been talking about.

“Right,” Tony says.

He tears his gaze away from the jar shoved between Bucky’s thick thighs, and even manages not to get caught up staring at Bucky’s mouth as he takes another bite of preserves.

“So the UN got together,” Tony says, forcing himself to stay focused. “And 117 of those countries agreed that maybe The Avengers- maybe we shouldn’t be able to run around the world doing whatever we think is best and making, just- a giant fucking mess everywhere we go in the process.”

He starts digging around on the floorboard for one of the jars of water in a useless attempt to hide the way his hands have started to shake, the tremor in his voice. Like there’s a point in trying to hide anything from Bucky.

“I thought they had a decent point, and that we should at least be part of the conversation,” he continues, pretending that opening the jar takes all of his attention. “Steve- He disagreed, we argued, as we do. Then the ratification of the Accords was interrupted by a very convincing frame job. And then Steve and I argued some more, you broke out of confinement, and now here we are. Boom, you’re all caught up.”

Tony takes a big drink of water, although this hasn’t been quite as upsetting to get into as he expected. Sure, the guilt is just as overwhelming, all of his mistakes still weighing heavily enough to crush him if he let them. But the pain of leaving the team, of fighting with Steve-

The wounds are more than healed, they’re completely scarred over. No more painful to think about now than the friends he made and lost way back in college.

He cares way more what Bucky thinks of all his mistakes.

Not that it matters, Bucky is stuck with him. Tony learned the hard way last night that they can't even stay mad at each other, no matter the fucking reason. Bucky can’t leave him.

A sick feeling of relief is trying to grow in Tony’s chest again, and he viciously shoves it down.

When he finally glances over Bucky has a thoughtful look on his face. He must have heard the very basics of what happened with Ultron and Sokovia, but Tony can’t blame him for wanting to know exactly what he’s found himself in the middle of.

Bucky opens his mouth, and Tony braces himself for all the familiar questions. Maybe Bucky can't stay mad at him, but he’ll still probably want to know what the hell were you thinking? How could you let that happen? Why didn’t you know better by now?

“An’ what exactly was the battle of New York?” Bucky asks.

It startles a sound out of Tony that’s caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

“Not relevant at the moment,” he says with a quick shake of his head. “So we are definitely not getting into that whole story right now.”

Bucky’s expression doesn’t change, but Tony can tell that he’s pouting. Which is a little unfair, since Tony can’t exactly interrogate him back.

They’ve already determined that Bucky remembers basically nothing between being taken into custody by the anti-terror taskforce and running into Tony. And touching anything Bucky remembers before that feels- dicey.

“How long have we been on the road? About two hours?” Tony asks instead.

The sun still hasn’t risen, but the sky is light enough now that he can make out the empty fields around them. Apparently it's also light enough that Bucky can finally look away from the road to give Tony a curious look.

“A lil’ over that, yeah,” he replies.

“And we’re going- North? Ish?” Tony guesses.

"No, East," Bucky says with a huff and shoots him another look. “We’re drivin’ into the sunrise.”

“I don’t know, I’m an engineer, not a navigator,” Tony defends himself, glaring at the haze of fog that turns the entire horizon into a glowing golden line. “And for all I know those crabapple preserves are making me fucking- hallucinate.”

Bucky snorts and pointedly shoves another forkful of preserves into his mouth. Tony ignores him in favor of doing some quick mental math.

“Good,” he finally decides, “pull over here.”

"What?"

“You wanted to know what ‘Find My Friend’ means, right? Pull over and you’ll find out,” Tony says with a smirk.

Bucky looks doubtful, but he pulls over to the side of the dirt road.

Tony considers getting out of the truck to wait, but that seems like a good way to get spotted by a satellite. So he rolls the window down instead and turns off the rattling heater in the truck, listening carefully.

All Tony hears though is the soft sounds of wind through the dry grass around them. He can feel Bucky’s curiosity spiking, and Tony keeps his gaze fixed out the window to hide his smirk.

The minutes tick by without another sound. Even the wind dies down, and Tony’s confidence wavers.

Just as Bucky starts to get twitchy in response to Tony’s growing worry that something has gone wrong, Bucky’s attention jerks around to the right. A second later Tony can hear it, too.

The dull roar gets louder, quickly moving closer, and Tony grins when Bucky shoots him a worried look. Within seconds the sound descends on them, whipping the air around before dying out with a soft crunch of grass. Because he’s looking for it, Tony can barely make out the distortion of the air a couple of feet from the passenger side of the truck.

“Found you,” comes FRIDAY’s familiar voice from the spot of shimmering air.

Bucky sucks in a sharp, alarmed breath.

“Took you long enough,” Tony says to the empty air. “Now get in the car before you give the old man a heart attack.”

Tony glances over in time to see Bucky shoot him a quick, unimpressed look.

The back door of the truck opens, and the suspension groans in complaint as a heavy weight settles into the back seat. Once the door has closed, the air shifts and the dark gray Mark VI armor is revealed as it drops its visual camouflages.

The quiet sound that Bucky lets out this time sounds much closer to impressed. Tony doesn’t bother trying to hide his smug grin.

"Bucky, meet FRIDAY, my AI, currently playing the part of my armor," he says, gesturing to the mass of metal awkwardly crammed into the backseat. Then he turns his attention to the armor and says, “FRIDAY, meet Bucky, m-my- Apparently, we are s-soulmates.”

Tony is a little surprised to find himself still stumbling over the word, after their conversation last night. Almost like ‘deciding’ to stick together doesn’t change how goddamn weird it is that he has a soulmate. To find out that soulmates are real.

FRIDAY takes a split second longer than usual before replying, “A pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Nice- uh, nice to meet you too,” Bucky says slowly.

His eyes flick from Tony to the armor and back again. He’s trying to play it cool, but Tony can feel Bucky’s awe as a warm ball in his own chest. He tries not to let his smug grin get too wide.

“Any trouble?” Tony asks the AI.

“None, Boss,” she replies, “there were lots of eyes on the tower, but Colonel Rhodes ensured I was not detected leaving.”

“Good-”

“How’d- how did she find us?” Bucky asks quickly, looking torn between being confused and concerned.

“Homing devices under my skin,” Tony says dismissively, but Bucky’s concern spikes. So he adds, “Don’t worry, the suits are the only things that can access them.”

Bucky looks like he wants to ask more questions, but Tony waves him off and turns back to FRIDAY.

“Hand over the helmet, I need to check the news,” he says, turning a little more to face the backseat.

“Of course,” she says and the arms of the suit start to lift before pausing. FRIDAY’s voice sounds almost hesitant when she adds, “Boss, Captain Rogers has been trying to reach you near-constantly on the Avenger’s emergency channel, and I have several messages from Agent Romanoff-”

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Tony cuts her off quickly, shaking his head. “We’re not dealing with that right now. Just the news, thank you.”

He’s aware of Bucky watching with fascination as FRIDAY has the armor nod shortly before grabbing either side of the helmet. There’s a hiss and clack as latches open, and then the helmet lifts away.

“Wow,” Bucky mutters under his breath, craning his neck to get a better look down the empty neck hole of the suit. His voice is distracted as he asks, “So that’s th- that’s your armor?”

He’s more than just impressed, Bucky is awed and almost painfully curious. Tony has to struggle to fight down his smug grin as he twists forward and drops back down in his seat.

“One of them,” Tony says, holding the helmet up for a moment. “This is the Mark VI, codename Sneaky.”

“Sneaky?” Bucky repeats slowly, quirking an eyebrow.

“What? Tell me that wasn’t sneaky!” Tony protests with a huff. “Radar, sonar, pathetic human eyes, nothing can track this baby.”

Bucky hums thoughtfully, then points out, “We did hear it comin’, though.”

Tony nearly chokes on his offended gasp when he can’t completely fight down a laugh. He knows that Bucky is teasing, and for once there’s no tiny part of him wondering if there’s a hidden barbthat he’s missing. If Bucky is just waiting to catch him off guard.

“Yeah yeah, well you let me know when you figure out completely silent flight,” Tony mutters and slouches down pointedly in his seat. He drops his chin in an attempt to hide his twitching lips as he continues grumbling loudly under his breath.

“Will do,” Bucky says easily. He ignores Tony’s top-notch pouting in favor of pulling back out onto the road, the truck’s suspension creaking much more loudly than before.

“Mean to me,” Tony accuses, shifting his grip on the helmet so he can cross his arms. He’s still struggling to stop a smile from spreading across his face.

Bucky isn’t fighting down his grin at all and Tony’s breath catches to see the way it crinkles the skin around his eyes, the hint of a dimple in his cheek. It’s a real smile, one that Tony vaguely remembers seeing in photos of Bucky from before the war. Seeing it in person, because of him-

Then Bucky glances over at him just long enough to wink and blow him a kiss.

Tony chokes on nothing as his heart lurches in his chest. Bucky’s gaze is fixed firmly on the road again but Tony can see the way his eyes go wide, like he hadn’t been expecting himself to do that either. There’s a faint pink rising in Bucky’s cheeks, and Tony can feel a matching warmth on his own face.

He quickly yanks the helmet down over his head in a useless attempt to hide his blush.

Everything is dark for a second, and then the internal battery kicks in and the familiar lights of the helmet’s HUD fills his vision. FRIDAY has already pulled up a multitude of news sources on the display for him, and he starts to pour over them. But in the back of his mind Tony can’t think about anything except how dangerous this is.

Talking with Bucky- being with him, it’s just-

It’s easy.

He knows exactly when Bucky is teasing and when he’s being genuine. He knows there’s no actual judgement in Bucky’s dry tone, and he knows that Bucky isn’t playing up how impressed he is just to stroke Tony’s ego. He can feel all of Bucky’s emotions somewhere in the complicated mess that’s taken up residence in his chest.

They’re not always clear, but Tony is quickly learning how to decipher them.

Tony is so used to second-guessing everything, every move someone makes and every single thing they say. He’s been doing it his entire life, but now- Now he can’t even force himself to go through the familiar routine of over-thinking all of Bucky’s motivations.

He knows why Bucky is here, why they’re both here. He knows what Bucky means by every single thing he says.

It’s all dangerously easy.

Even if the bond would let them stand to be separated, why would Tony want to?

Why would he want to be away from this feeling of easy familiarity, even if it isn’t real? It feels real.

And there are so few people that he can read completely, that he can trust completely. Why would he not want to stick with Bucky? Even if talking to Rhodey hadn’t felt so- so different than it did before, it wouldn’t compare to what he’s feeling now- The level of connection-

How could he want to walk away from that?

When they ‘decided’ to stick together, they both knew that it was for show. They just needed to pretend for a second that they have a choice. In any of this.

But he’d also heard the sincerity buried in Bucky’s voice when he’d agreed. And Tony had felt the strange mix of resignation and relief that had flooded through the other man.

So does it matter how real the choice actually is?

If the soulmate bond was only half as strong, if it did give them some semblance of a choice-

At this point Tony is pretty sure that he would choose to stay right here. In a stolen truck, on the run from everyone he knows. With Bucky and this easy familiarity.

He isn’t sure how he feels about that realization.

---

It takes Tony a couple hours to go through all of the info he can find, and by the end he can determine that Rhodey was wildly sugarcoating things.

The gossip mill is running rampant, as expected, and no one can even begin to agree on why they ran off together. Tony is a little amused that not a single person, from reporter to blogger, has guessed the truth.

But Tony is much more concerned with the military response to their little escape. Basically everyone is looking for them, the US, Wakanda, and every country in between. All things considered, he’s a little surprised they haven’t been swarmed by half a dozen strike teams yet.

The only upside is that SI was quickly cleared from any suspicion of ties to Hydra, which makes one more reason he was right to put Pepper in charge. The ratification of the Accords has also been delayed until the ‘mystery bomber’ is caught, and at least that buys him a little more time on that front.

He already has a couple ideas about how they can fix this, how to clear their names and maybe even make some progress on the Accords front. But all of his possible plans start with figuring out who’s trying to frame Bucky, and why, and then actually finding the asshole.

And they can’t exactly do that here, without access to any of Tony’s computers or equipment. There’s only so much he can do from the suit without pinging an alert and drawing attention to themselves. They can’t even stop long enough for Tony to rig up some kind of relay that will let him do a little more digging.

All of his ideas require them to be not on run, which means at some point they’ll have to stop. It’s just a matter of who will find them first when they do, and hoping like hell they’ll at least let Tony get on with one of his many plans.

As if to really drive that point home, he gets a notification that Steve is calling on the emergency line. For the fifth time in the past hour.

Tony rejects the call for the fifth time in the past hour.

Talking to Rhodey was one thing, but he is not ready to talk to Steve. He’s not ready to- to have to finally explain all of this to someone else. And Steve will definitely demand an explanation, he won’t settle for ‘I’ll explain later’ after- after everything that happened with Ultron.

He can’t put it off forever though, and he’s pretty sure Steve and the Avengers will be their best best to actually solve this mess. He’s just-

He’s not ready yet.

The helmet isn’t exactly stuffy, but the rush of fresh air over his face when he pulls it off is still a relief. Tony drags in a deep breath and then lets it out slowly as he rests the helmet in his lap, his mind still racing.

“We still most wanted?” Bucky asks, the words casual but his tone soft.

He can probably feel how quickly Tony’s thoughts are spinning and colliding into each other, and Tony feels a little bad. No one should be subjected to the inside of his head.

"The most wanted," Tony says with faux-excitement. “Not to brag, but hanging out with me is probably one of the few things that could make you more dangerous and wanted. And here we are.”

“Hooray,” Bucky says dryly, and Tony laughs.

The sun is high in the sky now, and Tony glances around at the identical fields around them. Not quite identical, he realizes, the randomly scattered houses have increased in frequency. He glances into the backseat to make sure the armor is still cloaked.

“Where are we going, anyways?” He finally thinks to ask.

Bucky snorts and glances over at him with a grin as he asks, “Did you get kidnapped a lot, as a kid?”

“Haha,” Tony says, rolling his eyes, “three and a half times. Now answer the question.”

"‘An’ a half?’ How does that work?"

“Keep dodging the question and find out,” Tony warns, reaching for the handle of the car door.

The laugh that Bucky lets out is deep and rolling and so real. Warmth spreads through Tony’s chest and spirals out through his limbs, melting away a lot of the tension that built up in his muscles as he read through the news.

“There’s a safehouse near the Russian border,” Bucky says slowly, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "One of th’ generals kept it- It was off th’ books. An’ that was years ago, so- I don’t think anyone still knows about it. If it's still there."

“That’s the spirit,” Tony says, and Bucky snorts again.

“Dunno how old they’ll be, but these should still be a computer or two lyin' around,” Bucky adds, glancing over at him with a small grin.

Tony clutches at his chest and slumps back against the door, pretending to swoon. Bucky smiles wider, until his blue eyes practically shine with it and crinkle around the corners.

“And what are the odds we’ll find some old weapons lying around?” Tony asks knowingly as he sits upright again, and Bucky smiles innocently. Tony shakes his head with a chuckle and then asks, “So, where near the border, exactly?”

Bucky’s expression pinches again as he haltingly admits, “I’m not- I don’ remember, exactly. But I- I know I can get us there s’long as- as I don’t think about it too hard.”

That raises the question of how often Bucky had to navigate his way to this ‘off the books safehouse’, but Tony knows better than to voice it. He doesn’t need the bond to tell him to keep his mouth shut, it's obvious in Bucky’s tight shoulders and the haunted look that’s completely replaced his smile.

Tony is once again flooded with the urge- the need to reach out to him. It’s just like when he saw Bucky sitting miserable and dejected in the corner of that one-room shack and Tony had been physically incapable of not doing something. And when he’s not futility trying to keep hold of an unfair anger, he doesn’t want to resist.

But he still doesn’t know what to do. For all of the ‘need to comfort’ that the bond throws at him, it doesn’t exactly come with instructions on how to comfort a stranger. Especially one who used to be, and sometimes still is, a deadly assassin.

“Well, three cheers for muscle memory, I guess,” Tony says after a pause that stretches just a little too long.

A weak smile twitches at the corner of Bucky’s lips. Much more importantly, Tony can feel the chill receding from Bucky’s mind as he lets go of the half-memories. As he realizes that Tony isn’t going to ask him to drag them up.

Bucky relaxes back in his seat minutely, and Tony gets a little more brave. Under the flimsy guise of getting a look at the dash, he scoots awkwardly across the bench seat until his shoulder brushes against Bucky’s.

“We’ll need more gas before that,” Tony remarks, fighting down his grin as Bucky shifts to lean against him the tiniest amount. “And by gas, I mean a new car.”

“There’s a town not far from here,” Bucky says with a small nod.

His fingers tap against the steering wheel for a second, and he starts to lift his hand away before quickly wrapping it tight around the wheel again. Like he was going to reach out but then stopped himself. Tony has the strangest urge to pout, but he settles for leaning a little more heavily into Bucky’s shoulder.

When Tony drops his gaze he catches sight of the helmet still clenched between his hands. He’d almost forgotten he was holding it, and his grip tightens as reality tries to make itself known.

There’s a good chance he’s missed at least one more call since he took the helmet off. And he still hasn’t even looked at the message from Natasha, it makes his chest pull tight just to think about after he- he attacked her-

Tony is fighting and running from his own team. He’s running from everything, all of his responsibilities. And Steve apparently thinks he’s abducting people for unknown reasons now, that’s how low his credibility has fallen. It’s no wonder people think he’s gone rogue, or that he’s working for Hydra.

He doesn’t even realize that he’s started anxiously tapping his fingers against the metal of the helmet until Bucky’s hand spreads over his, his fingers slipping between Tony’s to gently still them.

Tony drags in a shuddering breath as warmth rushes up his arm and through his chest, trying to wash reality away again.

It nearly works. The amount of calm he gets from the simple contact is absurd, honestly, but it’s hard to care about the why when Tony can literally feel his heartbeat steadying.

“I- We should- Once we get to this safehouse, we should probably call Steve back,” Tony reluctantly bites out. He curls his fingers around Bucky’s, making it clear he has no intention of letting go, and uses his free hand to set the helmet beside him on the bench seat.

“‘We?’” Bucky asks, glancing over at him with one eyebrow raised. Tony doesn’t miss the pleased warmth that floods through him at the word, though, or the way Bucky’s fingers tighten around his.

“We,” Tony agrees with a firm nod, trying to pretend the word doesn’t make him a little breathless too. “You are not getting out of dealing with this with me. And by this, I mean your best friend. Who thinks I kidnapped you. He’s going to want proof of life.”

“Okay,” Bucky says easily. “Should we pick up a paper with today’s date, too? Send 'im a photo?”

Tony lets out a snort that turns into surprised laughter, once again caught off guard by Bucky’s dry humor. Bucky keeps his attention fixed on the road, but he’s also not trying to hide his wide grin as he carefully twists his hand in Tony’s grip until their palms slide together. Their fingers slip together again easily, and now they are officially holding hands.

The heat that floods Tony’s face and the way his heart skips in his chest over hand holding makes him feel like a pre-teen again. But that doesn’t stop him from tightening his grip on Bucky’s hand. He settles back in his seat a little more, pressed a little more firmly against Bucky’s side.

They fall into comfortable silence as a small city starts to grow in the distance. Bucky’s thumb drags absently along the side of his hand, and Tony smiles as he tips his head back against the seat.

---

The town seems to have already quieted down for the evening as they drive in. They find a delivery van is an empty alley, and its suspension complains way less about the weight of the armor in the back.

Spending this long in a vehicle that he’s not driving is making him a little crazy, but Tony slides into the passenger seat without complaint. The passenger seat that is entirely too separate from the driver seat.

Tony’s left side feels cold, and his hand feels painfully empty. It doesn’t matter that Bucky is less than two feet away in the other seat, navigating them out of the narrow alleyway. Without that physical contact Tony feels-

He feels untethered.

And he knows that should freak him out. It would have just a couple days ago, but Tony-

He can’t care about that right now. He has so many bigger problems right now than the urge to hold hands, so why worry about it?

Especially when he also knows- knows it to his core- that when he sticks his hand out and wiggles his fingers expectantly, he only has to wait a second before Bucky’s fingers are lacing with his. Instantly he feels calm and grounded again, and Tony lets out a slow breath.

As they drive out of town without incident, he makes a mental note of yet another place on their tour of Europe that he’ll have to make a little anonymous donation. The list is getting pretty long.

Tony ends up dozing on and off as Bucky drives them through Belarus. The entire time, Bucky's fingers stay laced through his, thumb running absently over the side of Tony’s hand.

The sun is going down when Tony wakes up, but there’s still enough light to see that they’re driving through a sparse forest. Tony’s arm kind of aches from hanging between the seats, but he squeezes Bucky’s hand and smiles to himself.

“Pretty sure I’ve seen this horror movie,” Tony says, his voice thick with sleep.

Bucky huffs out a laugh and squeezes his hand back as he asks, “So what’s your fate gonna be?”

“I- do not actually remember,” Tony admits, “but I’m pretty sure I’d rather be found by a strike team.”

“Think we’re about there, so let’s find out,” Bucky says, still grinning as he pulls off the small dirt road and onto a smaller dirt road.

“Uh-oh,” Tony says dryly. Then the house comes into view, and he says, “Oh.”

It’s not nearly as bad as he was expecting. Instead of a creepy log cabin, the house looks like it’s been plucked out of a suburb and dropped in the middle of a forest. There’s only one story, but it looks solidly built and probably has multiple rooms, at least. And indoor plumbing.

As much as Tony is looking forward to that, he’d also sworn to himself that he’d stop putting off calling Steve as soon as they got here. He probably owes that to Steve, he did run off with the man’s oldest friend, and all of their best chances to find the real bomber involve getting some kind of help.

But still, he really doesn’t want to call Steve.

Bucky does a couple sweeps around the perimeter of the house while Tony uses the armor to scan the woods for any signs of life, and eventually they determine that the place is about as abandoned as they can hope for. Another quick scan tells Tony that the house doesn’t have power for any kind of security system, so he waves Bucky on and the man easily rips through the multiple rusted locks on the back door.

“From farm house to weird, forest safe house,” Tony says as he looks around the dark kitchen. “We’re really moving up in the world.”

“Next time I’ll find you a safe-mansion,” Bucky promises, sounding oddly sincere.

Tony clutches his hands to his chest and flutters his eyelashes, but he knows Bucky can tell that his heart isn’t in it.

All of his thoughts are on the phone call that he has to make. And figuring out what the hell he’s even going to say, because he still hasn’t done that. The idea of saying to someone that he has a soulmate is still- It still doesn’t feel quite real.

Tony is way past trying to deny the bond between them, but- But if it gets out, other people will. He has no doubt there will be demands for some kind of proof, despite the fact that no one has ever found hard proof of the soulmate bond. There are only stories, and now Tony is living one of them.

Who is even going to believe him-

“I need a shower,” Tony decides, using the helmet like a flashlight and pointing it down the narrow hallway. “Shower, and then dealing with things.”

“I’ll try’n fix the power,” Bucky says, peering around the corner into the living room. When Tony hesitates Bucky turns to him with a small smile and says, “Save me some water, if there is any.”

“We’ll see,” Tony says, but they both know he will.

He’s halfway through a dark, cold shower when the lights flicker on, and apparently Bucky found the generator.

Spending the day eating preserves while driving down rural roads has left his suit pants flecked with bits of fruit, and Tony winces as he pulls them back on. Even with the lights on, he doesn’t really want to go raiding the closet of a Hydra general, so dirty slacks it is. His button-up is a lost cause though, and he has to face the chill of the house in just his undershirt.

Bucky blinks at him as he walks into the living room, then hurries off to the bathroom himself with his chin ducked low.

After getting the suit inside and making sure that turning on the power didn’t trip any of the out-dated security systems, Tony manages to dig up some old military rations while he waits.

When Bucky does come back, it’s with a wide grin and a large knife that he must have found somewhere. Tony shakes his head with a huff and doesn’t ask.

They eat in tense silence, sitting across from each other with their legs tangled under the small kitchen table. When they’re done, Tony solemnly sets the helmet in the center of the table.

No more putting it off.

“Ready?” He asks.

“No,” Bucky says with a weak attempt at a grin, and Tony nods in agreement.

“FRIDAY,” he says, “get me- Get us Captain Spangles on the emergency emergency line.”

The eyes of the helmet light up, and Tony drags in a steadying breath.

“Tony!” Steve says in a rush of air as soon as the line connects. His strained, frantic voice fills the small kitchen as he demands, “Where is- what did you do to Bucky?!”

"What- nothing," Tony says with a roll of his eyes, “why would-”

"What did you do?" Steve interrupts to demand again, sounding beyond panicked.

However low Steve’s opinion of him might be at the moment, Tony can’t imagine what Steve thinks he’s done that has him this worked up. When Tony glances up at Bucky, he seems just as confused.

“Steve,” Tony tries, “what-”

"It wasn’t his fault," Steve cuts him off again, and Tony huffs. “He wasn’t- you don’t understand, you- You can’t blame him,” Steve insists, skipping from one thought to the next without finishing any of them. “It wasn’t his- he’s-”

“I know,” Tony interrupts this time, his annoyance spiking to match his confusion, “Dammit Steve, I’m trying to tell you that I know he wasn’t in Vienna.”

“You- Vienna-” Steve repeats slowly, “That- okay, good. Right. That’s good.”

Tony gets the distinct feeling that they’re having two different conversations. Talking to Rhodey had felt like- like talking to a stranger, but at least a familiar one. This, though-

This is something else.

“So, so where is he?” Steve asks and he’s trying not to sound panicked now, but he’s not fooling anyone.

“Right here, drama queen,” Tony huffs, distracted. Steve hadn’t been talking about the Vienna bombing, he’s sure of that, but what-

“'M here, Stevie,” Bucky chimes in, his voice hoarse.

Tony fixes him with a look, trying to convey that he’d hoped Bucky would sound less like an abused hostage during this phone call. Bucky’s lips twitch weakly and his legs shift against Tony’s as he clears his throat.

"'M fine, I swear," he adds and Tony is all too familiar with the complicated mix of emotions behind the words, because he’s feeling it too.

They are fine, but they’re not sure that they should be. They’re more fine with all of this than they were yesterday and they should be concerned about that, right? But Tony isn’t, and he can tell that Bucky isn’t either. Why would he be, when he hasn’t found a reason yet that he wouldn’t choose this? Choose Bucky? When it feels so-

Right.

“You- g-good,” Steve stutters, clearly caught off guard. Like this conversation isn’t going the way he expected, and Tony knows that feeling too. “T-That’s good, so wh- What happened? I mean, w- why’re you-”

He trails off, struggling for words, and Tony is pretty sure he should be offended again.

Bucky bites his lip so hard the skin goes white and Tony is momentarily distracted from trying to figure out what the hell is going on with Steve. He’s already reaching across the table to pull Bucky’s lower lip free before he catches himself and drops his arm back to his side.

“Why’m I with Tony?” Bucky asks, his gaze flicking up from the helmet to meet Tony’s and the tiniest smile pulling at his lips.

Tony’s breath catches and he wonders if Steve can hear the same thing he can, the way Bucky’s voice curls warm and familiar around his name. Like he’s been saying it forever.

A surprised inhale from the other end of the line means that Steve probably did.

"Well, yeah," Steve says in a hard rush, like all the air is being knocked out of him. “I mean, I thought-”

He cuts himself off, but Tony is dying to know what exactly Steve had thought was going on. Before he can ask, though, Steve is talking again.

“I know I told you about Tony, but I didn’t think you’d hit it off quite that fast,” Steve says with a strained laugh, and Tony isn’t buying it.

Something is off-

“Uh, yeah, we-” Bucky starts and then his voice cuts off as he looks up at Tony again, like Tony has any idea how to start explaining this. Bucky abruptly laughs softly and shakes his head as he says, “You’re not gonna believe me.”

Steve lets out a frustrated, incomprehensible sound that almost manages to make Tony smile.

“Listen Stevie,” Bucky says and then pauses, swallowing hard.

He blinks rapidly, expression twisted, and Tony’s heart clenches in his chest at the sight. When Bucky’s right hand starts to creep across the table Tony doesn’t hesitate to reach out and wrap his fingers around Bucky’s again.

Bucky jolts slightly, like he hadn’t even realized he was reaching out. But then he grips Tony’s hand back tightly and his lips curl up at the edges. Tony has no idea what Bucky is going to say, no idea what he would say. But he knows they’re in this together.

“I had to leave with Tony,” Bucky finally says simply, like that explains it.

To them it does, and Tony feels a small smile spreading across his own face. Steve makes another confused, frustrated sound.

"I don’t- I don’t understand, " Steve says slowly, "why- I mean, is that- are you sure-"

It’s obvious he’s trying to choose his words very carefully, and now Tony is sure there’s something Steve isn’t saying. Before he can demand answers, however hypocritical that might be at the moment, Steve is cut off by another voice in the background.

For a minute all Tony can make out is hushed conversation. Bucky frowns down at the helmet, like if he just focuses hard enough he’ll be able to identify voices or words. It might be working, because Bucky’s frown deepens a second before a new voice comes on the line.

“Start from the beginning and tell us exactly what happened,” Natasha says briskly.

The air rushes out of Tony’s lungs as the image of the last time he saw her flashes through his mind. Crumpled against the wall in that brightly lit building, her hair a mess, unmoving. He hadn’t even known if she was still alive when he’d turned and left with Bucky, hadn’t even thought to check, he’d just-

Tony can still feel the burn of the repulsor against his palm and he flexes his hand anxiously, stomach churning. Bucky leans across the table and captures Tony’s shaking hand in his.

It’s almost like they’re having some kind of strange seance, sitting on either side of the table with their clenched hands framing the glowing helmet. The image makes Tony smile weakly, and Bucky smiles back as he drags his cool metal thumb over Tony’s palm.

After dragging in a steadying breath, Bucky says, “I- I remember bein’ in custody.” His expression twists as he struggles to remember, that same deep chill creeping over his mind again. Tony clings to his hands tighter. “I- someone must’ve a-activated the solider-”

“We’re pretty sure it was someone disguised as a doctor,” Steve interrupts, his voice getting louder as he no-doubt leans over Natasha’s shoulder. There’s a soft ‘oof’ as she elbows him in the gut.

"Do you know who? Or why?" Tony can’t resist breaking in to ask.

“We’re working on it,” Natasha says, a subtle iciness in her voice that Tony hasn’t heard in- he doesn’t know if he’s ever heard it directed at him. “Vision is trying to track where he went after Berlin,” she continues, "so if you can remember anything-"

She trails off pointedly and Bucky’s forehead creases as he squeezes his eyes closed. His foot taps against Tony’s as he thinks, and the cold is sinking deeper.

“The doctor-” Bucky says slowly, his voice hoarse, "he- he wanted to- to know something."

Bucky’s grip tightens on Tony’s hands. The cold is sinking deeper into his mind, deep enough that it sends a shiver down Tony’s spine.

Tony has to bite his lip so he won’t tell him to stop, that it’s not worth it. He knows they need answers, he just- he doesn’t care.

On the other end of the line he can hear Steve whispering to someone, still sounding a little more worried than Tony thinks the situation really calls for.

Bucky’s eyes abruptly fly open wide, so blue and fixed on Tony.

“Siberia,” he says shortly and the other end of the line falls silent. “The base, the other soldiers in cryo- He wanted to know where it is. And I- I told him.”

Steve swears colorfully in the background of the call, but Tony isn’t in the mood to tease him about it.

Natasha gets what Bucky can remember of the coordinates and then asks, “Anything else?”

Bucky nods silently, then huffs when Tony squeezes his hand.

“Yeah. He wanted to know about one of my- my missions,” Bucky says, dropping his gaze. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself, and then looks back up at Tony. “He asked about- about December 19th.”

Tony feels his expression pinch as he tries to figure out why this doctor-imposter would want to know that, and he’s about to ask-

On the other end of the line, Steve sucks in a sharp breath. Alarmed, almost panicked.

It doesn’t make sense.

Unless-

There’s a buzzing starting in Tony’s ears.

He can feel Bucky watching him with concern, but Tony is staring at the helmet on the table. Like he’ll be able to read Steve’s face through it.

There is one reason Steve might be so damn worried about Bucky being with Tony, but he shouldn’t know about that.

Tony only found out about his parents yesterday, there’s no way that Steve- He would have said something if he-

“Did you know?” Tony asks, his voice flat. He can barely hear himself over the roaring in his ears.

“About the Winter Soldier program?” Natasha asks, sounding caught off guard by his tone. “Yes, I-”

Tony isn’t listening to her though. He’s listening to Steve in the background, breathing a little too quickly. He can hear Steve coming up with some excuse.

Tony knows him better than most, after all. Or at least he used to. He thought he did.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers!” Tony snaps and Natasha cuts off abruptly.

There’s a shuffling sound as she apparently hands the communicator over to Steve.

“Did you know?” Tony grits out, his voice rough.

Steve swallows audibly and then says, “I didn’t know it was him.”

The laugh that tears its way out of Tony’s chest startles even him, harsh and edged with hysteria.

Someone in the background of the call gasps.

When he looks up again Bucky’s eyes are wide, pained and surprised.

“Tony, listen,” Steve starts, like he’s going to explain himself.

"That’s worse!" Tony snaps, cutting him off. "That’s so much- you knew that Hydra had my parents m-murdered and didn’t tell me on the chance that it was your brainwashed best friend?! That’s fucking worse!"

Steve is silent, and Tony can just picture the flexing of his stupid jaw.

“How long have you known?” Tony demands and he’s dimly aware that he’s shaking. Bucky’s hands are still clutching his tightly. “Did- Did you know while you were giving me shit for keeping secrets?”

“I- I thought-” Steve starts, which isn’t a no.

“Stop, I don’t care what you thought,” Tony hisses, “you should have told me, I-”

‘I talked to you about them,’ Tony doesn’t say. ‘I told you that I blamed Howard for the crash and you just kept letting me.’

“No wonder you didn’t want my help looking for him,” Tony says instead, shaking his head.

Laughter is trying to bubble up his throat again, but it can’t make it past the thick knot of hurt. Even with the artificial distance of the bond, he’d never questioned if he could trust Steve-

But Steve hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him. Steve never intended to tell him.

“Tony,” Bucky says softly and Tony blinks, dragging in a ragged breath.

His lungs burn. His eyes burn. Bucky is watching him with that same sad, guilty look.

Apparently this is another thing Bucky is going to blame himself for. Tony wants to tell him to stop, but he can’t get any words out past the lump in his throat.

“Buck,” Steve says and Tony is sure that his sad, hopeful tone would have made him feel something, before.

Now he just feels angry. And he feels the gentle warmth of Bucky’s thumb running over the back of his hand.

“You should’a told him,” Bucky says softly, shaking his head. “He deserves t’ know.”

In the background, Natasha is trying to insist that they get back on track. Someone else is demanding to know what they’re talking about.

Bucky meets Tony’s eye again, one eyebrow raised in question and a tiny smirk pulling at his lips. Tony nods in relief, letting out a hard breath.

“I didn’t know if- I wasn’t sure-” Steve is saying as Tony reluctantly lets go of Bucky’s hands.

He grabs the helmet and disconnects the line, cutting off Steve’s excuses.

Silence falls over the kitchen, broken only by Tony’s still unsteady breathing. He grabs for Bucky’s hands again almost desperately and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to lace their fingers together.

“That-” Tony says slowly, “did not go the way I expected.”

Bucky huffs out a soft laugh and taps his foot against Tony’s again as he asks, “You okay?”

“Nope,” Tony says easily, “you?”

“Been worse,” Bucky says with a shrug and a tiny grin.

Tony manages a weak laugh of his own, and then sighs.

“So, Siberia,” he says, and Bucky simply nods. After a second of thought Tony admits, “I know Steve and the others are probably going to be heading there now, but-”

“You don’t wanna just leave it to 'em?” Bucky guesses when he trails off, and Tony smiles a little wider. “It’d take us a couple days to drive there,” he warns.

"Or, we could fly," Tony suggests. “We might be spotted, but I’d rather that than more Winter Soldiers running around.”

Bucky doesn’t look at all thrilled with the idea.

“I would never drop you,” Tony adds, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“Okay,” Bucky says reluctantly, “okay, we- We can fly.”

He still looks far from excited, so Tony resists the urge to cheer.

“We probably won’t get there before the team,” Tony admits, “but at the very least we’ll hopefully get there in time to have a chance of tracking down loose murder puppets.”

Bucky nods, looking thoughtful, and then that guilty expression starts to creep across his face again.

“Stop it,” Tony says seriously, and Bucky doesn’t even need to ask.

“Fine,” Bucky says with a weak laugh. “I just-” He sighs and his expression turns grave again, “I can’t believe he didn’ tell you.”

Tony can feel the mix of emotions tangled in Bucky’s chest, but picking out individual feelings is difficult. Disappointment and confusion and something that- it might be loss.

It’s similar to what Tony felt talking to Rhodey, but more. Like a wire that’s been cut, too short to be reconnected.

Bucky sighs and shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear it. When he looks at Tony again his eyes are clear, a small smile on his face, and it takes Tony's breath away.

“I’m gonna eat more before you fly me through the Russian skies,” Bucky says with a tone like he might as well be facing a firing squad, and Tony laughs. “Want anythin’?” He asks, grinning and pleased with himself.

“Crabapple preserves,” Tony says without hesitation, smiling wide.

“You and the apples,” Bucky huffs as he starts pushing himself to his feet, “you-”

The small window above the sink shatters.

Bucky falls silent, his eyes going wide.

Red is spreading across the front of his shirt.

It’s blood, Tony realizes slowly.

Everything is happening so slowly.

Shards of glass are still falling to the tile floor with oddly musical sounds.

The fingers of Bucky’s right hand are still tangled with Tony’s, and they start to go limp.

Distantly, Tony can hear a door slamming open. More windows breaking.

Bucky’s eyelids flutter and start to close.

It’s blood, it’s blood, it’s-

Tony doesn’t remember getting to his feet. He doesn’t remember speaking, but he must have. The armor is closing itself around him even as he tries to catch Bucky’s falling weight.

He can hear approaching footsteps. Someone is shouting.

More muffled gunshots ring out.

Tony barely feels the impact of the bullets bouncing off his armor.

He tries to curl himself around Bucky protectively, but there’s red spreading from his stomach and his leg.

Red.

It’s blood.

All Tony sees is red.

The charge and blast of the repulsors sounds like screaming.

Gunfire.

His HUD inside the helmet flashes warnings and Tony ignores them.

Men dressed in all black continue pouring into the house. Holding rifles. Firing them.

Red.

Shell casings rain around the feet of the armor as Tony moves.

Someone is shouting. The repulsors scream.

Red. Red. Red.

The roar of gunfire.

Repulsors scream. Or maybe it was a person.

All Tony can see is-

Shine of metal. Muzzle flash. Light and sparks.

And red.

Red.

Red-

Tony yanks the helmet off ungracefully and gulps in fresh lungfuls of air.

His hands are shaking.

He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the red from his vision.

Everything is too bright again and he needs to find Bucky- he needs to feel settled-

Tony’s eyes land on a blood splattered figure and he gasps, going tense until he realizes that it’s- It’s him.

His reflection stares back at him. His armor is splattered with blood, standing out bright against the Mark IV’s shades of gray.

He was in the kitchen, but this- there’s a dusty mirror and chipped sink in front of him. Where is he?

As he continues staring at himself Tony realizes that there’s blood on his face, somehow. It must have gotten there before he put the helmet on, which means-

It’s Bucky’s blood.

Bucky.

Tony remembers Bucky falling, the red- the blood spreading across his clothes.

What happened after that? He remembers-

Red.

Tony’s breath wheezes in and out of his chest. He needs to find Bucky- He needs- he needs to remember-

“Tony.”

The weak croak makes Tony jump again and he spins in place. The heels of his armor make an awful sound as they drag against the tile.

Bucky is slumped against the wall in a walk-in shower that looks vaguely familiar. Blood is running sluggishly down the drain. Bucky’s eyes aren’t quite focused as they move over Tony.

It looks like they’re back in the bathroom of the safe house, but how- When- Tony doesn’t-

“Wha’ happened?” Bucky asks, his voice weak and wet.

“I- I don’t-” Tony chokes out, his own voice breaking, "I don’t remember."

[polydamnory]

Oh it's gonna be BAD.

TW for obsessive, unhealthy and controlling relationships, stockholm syndrome, power abuse, mental/verbal abuse, all that fun stuff

Let's ignore everything in Cataclysm for now (minus Angel being dead RIP)

Damien is pulling everything he did with Angel and more with Freelancer and Vin, especially Vin. And by more I mean worse. He's keeping him and Freelancer close by, and probably has their magic muted pretty much around the clock. Definitely has Huxley guarding/keeping an eye on them, even if that's the last thing he wants to be doing (at least at first). He's not letting what happened with his last consort happen again. Of the two of them only Freelancer is allowed the "freedom" to leave, but only if they're with Lasko, and even that's rare because of how distracted he gets at work with them near. It can't be known to the public that the King Imperial has allowed a demon to live, let alone share his bed. Huxley and Lasko have more freedom because basically their whole lives have been dedicated to the Imperium, they have nothing to prove.

Lasko is weird about Damien in a similar way he is to Freelancer, but to a lesser degree. His mother was human born and that's not nothing to him, but him being the King of the giant cult that he views as basically saving his life definitely helps. I'm flip flopping on whether or not he would basically worship Damien for it or if they'd have a sort of rivalry dynamic due to them both being in positions of power, even if Damien outranks him. Maybe both. He probably still doesn't hold the highest opinion of Huxley though. Based on the established dynamic he has with him, I think the most I can see for those two is like they love each other but they also really hate each other. Lasko probably treats him in a very condescending manner, thinking his supposed stupidity and lack of power over him in anything other than physical strength is cute in a weird way, and belittles him in a very saccharine manner. Huxley knows this and it infuriates him, but what can he do? He's nothing but an Enforcer, and as much as he hates him, he can't stay away from him, even outside the context of his job. The moments when he is being kind to him, even when they are mocking, always seem to outweigh the times where he isn't, when he's talking down to him and making their power imbalance clear in the most hurtful ways possible. We already know how he feels about FL, and I think it's through his weird obsession with them that he starts to "like" Vin. Maybe he realized isolating them wasn't working and figured the best way to keep their relationship from progressing while also getting closer to FL was through personally supervised visits. Spending more time with both of them made him grow to tolerate him, then more. That being said he has a very similar viewpoint of him that he does of Huxley - he likes having power over him which has in turn endeared him to him, but it's still not healthy. In some big ways it's actually worse than with Huxley on account of Vin being a demon, and at that an incubus. But I don't have the mind to totally delve into that dumpster fire right now.

Vin and Freelancer are the last of the group to "come around", and only do so because of stockholm syndrome. It was bad enough when Lasko was just creepy towards FL, but now he's weird towards both of them and they can no longer get any alone time. They had plans of trying to escape, but somehow they've caught the attention of both an Enforcer and the King Imperium?! Worst yet, said King has now taken them into his home and hardly ever lets them interact with anyone other than himself and eventually Lasko and Huxley, sometimes even separating the two of them too when they act out too much. And Huxley, despite initially being cruel and rude to them (albeit he is no longer allowed to physically hurt them like before) even as their guard, has also seemed to come around to them in his own twisted way. There's no chance of escape now. So their brains do the only thing it thinks can make this better - trick them into thinking they're okay with this. That these people holding them hostage genuinely love and care about them, and that they love and care about them back. Better than rotting away in misery.

"poly damn this, poly damn that"

poly IMP damn

how would that work yall

[raeathnos]

.

[hplonesomeart]

Hey. Sorry about the inactivity, but pretty sure no one cared that much anyways lol. Been a looooong time since I kept that distant from Tumblr…at least now I know I’m able to survive without checking posts every day/being chronically online! I’ve got an intense love-hate relationship with this lifestyle I’ve dug myself into. Think I’m getting a little bit better with the balance even if school isn’t really giving me an option. Got a load of work I need to keep catching up on if I don’t want to disappoint my professors. We’ll survive somehow. Here take a quick batch of Puzzle doodles k bye

[angelsdean]

and i just keep crying.

[reporpoisedphantasies]

.

[tariah23]

Now he’s trying to lie when he literally tagged Princeton like 5 fucking time. White people are so evil, bro. They always know what they’re doing when they do shit like that. With the attempt to bring harm to Black people who they want to “get out of the way,” because they don’t think that we belong in the same spaces as them while at the same time, believing they should be allowed INTO our spaces and afforded hospitality and a whole red carpet rolled out. The sad thing is, she has connections to the industry because of her uncle and name so what if this was just a random Black woman who worked for Princeton without this kind of protection at all…?

[stunfiskz]

was going to give td reddit a chance but do not like the way a majority of them talk about emma at all ☹️ i do NOT trust them with her!!

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

So it looks like that job might have fell through and I’m lowkey kind of devastated if that’s the case

[turtelini]

sigh

[poppyseed799]

I have this problem that’s like the opposite of nostalgia or something where some things I remember liking a lot as a child I look back and only remember the bad times.

This is specifically about Animal Crossing, loved that game as a kid, but I have literally no idea why, cuz it was just pure hell for me from what I can remember.

[itsoutrageouss]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley being ready to go on his knees for his favorite nurse… but he has no idea how to show it.

Then he sees you at the pub.

It settled inside of him as a feeling of uselessness because he’s so used to knowing what to do. He takes action. He fixes things. And now he gets all flustered when you tend to his wounds, absentmindedly stroking his thigh and talking to him so so sweetly. Calling him a good boy when you finish the stitches, biting your lip as you focused on making them as neat as you could for him. He would stare at you the whole time, his cheeks heating because no one ever showed him this much care and you didn’t even seem to struggle with it- it was all natural.

You had labelled him ‘favorite patient’ in your phone but he didn’t know that. He figured you behaved like that with all the soldiers who came in- the reason you were such a good nurse.

After a well succeeded mission, the task force and the bases Staff all crowd down to the nearest pub. It was an excuse for you to finally be out of your work attire, adorning a black lacy top that made you feel sexy along with your glossy lips. He was already there, leaned back in a booth with Soap and Price as you walk in, looking around nervously.

He has to grit his teeth as he sees you. Fuck fuck fuck. This was gonna be a long night. He fisted his hands beneath the table.

This feeling of hopelessness, of not knowing what to do was so foreign that it bubbled into anger. Price frowned, noticing the rigid way his Lieutenant suddenly sat. Soap was too busy telling some story to notice anything, slamming down a hand, the beers rattling. Your colleagues crowded you into a booth that so conveniently faced him.

Why did he look at you like that? He was positively fuming, glowering, brows lowered and face set. You cowered under his gaze, eyes flickering away nervously.

His lips parted in soft surprise. Why did you look so nervous? Had he done something?

Because of course he was no clue how damn intimidating his so called love stare stare is. He follows you as you walk to the bar, leaning over, your skirt riding up. He has to blink up at the ceiling because it felt simultaneously like a gift from above, being allowed to see you like this, and like a curse from hell.

“Oh he’s down bad for her ain’t he, that fucker?” Soap exclaims, finally catching on as he lets out a hearty laugh. Simon glares.

“I think LT needs another pint” Price muses. Soap, ever the sergent he is, groans and gets up, patting Simon heavily on the shoulder before walking up to the bar next to you.

“You got him weak in the knees, Bunny” Soap grins casually, ordering the pints. It takes you a few seconds to comprehend before you lean backwards slightly, catching Simon’s gaze. This time he averts his eyes immediately. He was fucking fuming inside, not knowing how to get these feelings to go away. The only solutions he could think of were violence or sex. And violence he’s had enough of- and he’s sure the training dummies had too. Every damn night these past days he’s been punching his knuckles bloody, hoping it would satiate his restlessness. It didn’t.

And as for sex… he didn’t- well he didn’t not want that but that’s not where he wanted to start. He always threw himself into hookups or fiery flings that burned out too quickly, leaving embers he didn’t care for. He didn’t want that with you. He wanted to be genuine, slow, proper. And he had no idea how. He didn’t like not being good at things.

Your eyes stay on him, forcing his head to turn back to you. Your expression is unreadable, his fingers curling beneath the table before he rapidly stands up. You almost jolt at the action, the floor creaking from his weight as he stalks over to you and Soap, grumbling something.

Soap leaves, Simon trying to casually lean his elbows on the bar. “Just gonna wait for the pints” he tells you, then his jaw ticks because why did he say that? You probably don’t give a fuck what he’s doing there.

You smile softly, intrigued. “How’s your shoulder?”

It startled him, his head whipping to yours like you said something totally out of sorts. His shoulder? Right— It takes him way too long to answer.

“Fine. You did a good job. As always,” he said gruffly, looking down at the chipped wood of the bar, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“You look good.” The words slip past his lips, eyes quickly giving you a once over.

“I know.” He looks at you, sees a small glint in your eyes and the smile you smother. He wants to groan out loud at the sight.

A dry, almost laugh escapes him, shaking his head softly. “F’course you do.”

There’s a long, awkward silence where you both look anywhere but at each other, spines straightening, then slumping, then you both look at the bartender to keep busy.

He places your drink in front of you, three pints clattering in front of Simon. Neither of you move to take them.

“So I’m gonna go” Simon rumbles and turns, the pints clutched in his hands. He was overheating, fumbling in ever possible way he could and he couldn’t take it. You opened your mouth but he was already halfway across the room.

The pints rattle as he sits down. “So?” Soap asks as he leans forward. Simon grumbled that this isn fucking high school. But it’s not Soap he’s mad at. It’s himself. He had you right there.

You can’t focus the rest of the evening, laughing hollowly and sipping your drink with disinterest. Did he not find you interesting? It was so hard to read him that you started to doubt if he was playing with you. Maybe this was just the way he… was.

You hadn’t noticed everyone going out for a smoke. You hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you through the window like some kind of fucking stalker, only the glow from his cigarette giving colour to his shadow.

You down the rest of your drink, pulling your coat around you. The night is crispy, air poking your cheeks like needles.

“Are you ever going to ask me out? Because if not then I’d like to know- I don’t really know if you don’t like me or if I scare you or if there’s something entirely different at play but you cannot just stare at me and expe-“ a cold, chapped pair of lips silence you. They’re gone as quickly as they came you Simon’s eyes are wide, dropping his cigarette to the ground.

“I’m sorry- do you wanna- can I ask you out? I didn’t mean to do that but you talk a lot” he said bluntly, stuttering his way through his own mortifying actions.

He kissed you. To shut up your mindless yapping he… you shake your head in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable” you say, but there’s absolutely no malice in your tone- only wonder.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, his throat feeling tight.

“Yes. It’s a good technique you have there- do you do that on everyone? Kiss them when they talk too much? I can just imagine how Soap would rea-“

He did it again, eyes closing and inhaling sharply as he covered your cold cheeks with his hands. Christ you were a talker but he didn’t mind so much, if he was allowed to quiet you like this from now on.

[simpforboys]

let me b-a-n-g baby

rafe cameron x fem!virgin reader

summary: “she told you she celibate, but she told me i can nail her shit” - nle choppa

warnings: smut, loss of virginity, dirty talk, reader seems sweet and innocent but is secretly dirty, dom!rafe, sub!reader, oral (m + f receiving), unprotected piv sex, a spank, creampie, slight breeding kink, daddy kink, cheating, reader has a boyfriend that is not rafe, degrading, praise, cursing, celibacy but not specified why

obv this is based on gang baby by nle choppa

God, you drove Rafe fucking crazy.

Wearing those skirts that were normal length around your family, but hiked up to barely cover your ass around him.

Whenever Rafe would see you with your boyfriend, you always seemed so uninterested, giving him looks with your pretty eyes.

He just wanted you so bad.

You currently stood in Rafe’s living room as he threw a party, one of his lavish ones that everyone in Figure 8 knew about.

Sipping on whatever little drink was handed to you at the beginning of the party, your boyfriend, Miles, spewed on and on and on about some side project at work.

“Good job, baby.” You hummed, not paying attention, eyes locked on Rafe’s icy blue ones.

Rafe was smirking at you, drinking a glass of scotch on the rocks as he noticed you not even paying your poor boyfriend any ounce of attention.

“Y/n.”

You snapped your gaze back over to Miles.

“Hm?” you hummed.

“I think I’m gonna head back home, you coming?” Miles asked sweetly.

Miles was genuinely an okay-ish boyfriend. He obviously cared, the two of you had been together for three months.

But when you first got with him and told him you were waiting til marriage, it set some kind of tension in the relationship.

“No, I’m gonna stay. I’ll get a ride home, though. promise.”

You felt Miles give your kiss a soft cheek, patting your knee as he stood up to leave.

As soon as he was gone, a familiar voice loomed over you. “not desperate to leave with your boyfriend?”

You glanced up, making eye contact with Rafe as he towered over your sitting position. You swallowed, licking your lips.

“The party isn’t over yet, is it?”

Rafe smirked at your response, taking the last sip of his scotch as he moved to sit in the seat that was previously occupied by Miles.

You had spoken to Rafe multiple times before, always seeing him at events.

“You’re not wearing your little skirt?” Rafe hummed, his eyes trailing your form.

You crossed one leg over the other, heart pounding at his intimidating gaze.

“Decided on wearing some jeans… ‘s too cold at night for a skirt.”

Rafe didn’t respond, not bothering to hide the fact he was blatantly checking you out. But he always did that.

“You don’t seem very into your boyfriend.”

Your eyes widened as he randomly called you out. Face feeling warm, you broke eye contact with him.

“I don’t think he’s very into me,” you murmured back, feeling suddenly shy.

“Yeah? How come?”

Rafe leaned closer, his large, veiny hand coming to rest on your knee. Goosebumps erupted on your skin from the contact, and you were grateful you decided to wear jeans to cover them.

“Told him I’m celibate on our third date… been a little awkward ever since,” you admit softly.

Rafe was shocked, but he masked it well. His eyes widened a little at your confession, those soft wrinkles tightening a little on his forehead.

“You practice celibacy?” Rafe hums, his thumb running along your knee still. No way this girl who hikes her damn skirts up so much to show him her ass was celibate.

“I try to, yeah.”

“Try to?” Rafe questioned, a small smirk curling on his lips.

“Guess it depends on how horny the person makes me,” you blurt out, feeling your face immensely warm from your admission and the cocky grin Rafe gave you, you sank back into your seat.

“Oh, pretty girl. You tellin’ me your boyfriend doesn’t get you all worked up? Doesn’t know how to make you all needy?” Rafe cooed.

Oh god.

His voice was enough to send shivers down your spine and a throb in your clit.

Rafe took your lack of response as something good, his self-assured smirk still plastered on his sexy face.

“I… uh… don’t really know how to answer that,” you murmur shyly.

“Mhm. How about I take you somewhere more private? Can’t hear your sweet voice surrounded by all these people,” he suggests.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea, no way in hell was following Rafe Cameron to a private bedroom ever a good idea.

He currently had your plush thighs over his shoulders, fingers digging into the sheets, noises escaping your mouth as he ate your cunt as if he was starving.

His eyes were locked onto your face, watching how with every delicious swirl of his tongue against your clit, it contorted up in pleasure.

“That feel good, pretty girl?”

All you could do was mumble something incoherent, the pleasure completely new and overwhelming to you.

Miles hadn’t offered to eat you out, despite you sucking his dick once. You were fine doing other sexual things, just not penetration, as that was what you wanted to wait for.

But when Rafe’s long fingers slid into your soaked hole, the idea of penetration was driving you insane.

“Clenchin’ around my fingers so much… never had someone pleasure this sweet pussy?” Rafe murmurs, sucking on your clit.

“no… fuck, Rafe,” you gasped.

Rafe had that stupid cocky smirk on his face as he purposely hummed around your clit, the vibration making your body twitch.

“I can tell, baby. So turned on but still so tight… you gonna let daddy put his dick in here?”

Your brain was so fuzzy, the coil in your stomach tightening as the pleasure started to get overwhelmingly good.

Rafe just chuckled against your cunt, watching as you came undone on his mouth and fingers.

Panting for breath, you were out of it for a good minute. No one else had ever made you orgasm, only used to your own fingers or a vibrator every now and then.

The tall man pulled away from your cunt, unbuckling his belt and tugging down his pants and boxer briefs.

“Taste so good, baby.” Rafe leaned forward, connecting his lips to yours in an attempt to pull you back down to earth.

“Mhmm, Ray…”

“Yeah? What do you need?” Rafe smirks.

You lifted your head, finally looking at his dick. Eyes widening a little, mouth growing a little damper with drool.

He was big and thick. A pretty mushroom tip that was leaking precum, two prominent veins that ran along the whole shaft.

“Can I suck your dick?” you mumbled.

“What was that? Speak up, pretty girl. Tell Daddy what you want.”

Of course, Rafe heard you, he was just an asshole.

“Can I suck your dick, daddy? Please?” you asked a little louder, staring up at him with your pretty eyes.

“Good girl, askin’ so sweetly for daddy. You gonna let me fuck this mouth?” He placed a large hand on the side of your head, guiding you over to the side of the bed.

You lay on your stomach in front of him, eyes still locked onto the leaking tip.

“Open your mouth.”

Wasting no time, your mouth dropped open, a small lick being delivered to swipe off his arousal.

The little noise he breathed was enough to give you more encouragement, slowly wrapping your lips around the head.

“Relax that throat f’me… good girl.”

He slowly guided your head down more of his base, tears pricking your eyes. he was bigger and thicker than Miles, again, giving you a whole new experience.

He threw his head back slightly, a soft moan leaving him. You took your hand up, starting to stroke whatever couldn’t fit.

His hold on your head never released, but he stopped guiding you. As badly as he wanted to just hold your head still so he can ram his cock in and out of your mouth, he knew he had to be patient, as you were a virgin.

“Mhm, yeah. Suck that cock, pretty girl. You’re so fuckin’ naughty, huh? Lettin’ daddy eat your sweet pussy and now you’re suckin’ his dick. What would your boyfriend say?”

You would never admit this, but his words were spurring you on. Just the idea of being in Rafe’s room, having only talked to him a few times, both of you doing oral on each other, while your boyfriend sat at home.

Obviously, you couldn’t respond. Not when he was beginning to buck his greedy, sculpted hips into your mouth, making you choke on his dick.

You bobbed your head, eagerly trying to please him as your manicured hand stroked the bottom of his shaft.

"Fuck, where'd you learn to suck dick, hm? You secretly a slut?"

Rafe leaned over onto the bed, delivering a harsh slap to your ass. His forward motion caused his cock to slide deeper into your tight throat, his balls tensing.

He was going to cum sooner than he wanted to, but he slowly stopped caring. Not when a pretty girl like you was sucking him off so desperately.

"You gonna swallow my load? Drink it all down like a good fuckin' whore?" He grunted, his hand starting to guide you again.

Spit was dribbling down your chin, small gags leaving your dirty mouth as he choked you on his member.

You took your left hand and began to gently massage his balls, feeling the way they tensed up, signaling he was close.

He twitched in your mouth, sexy, deep grunts leaving his filthy mouth.

"Shit, take my cum."

Hot spurts of semen slid down your throat, the sensation and taste of it weird, but not disgusting. You swallowed it down like a shot, gasping and panting for air when he finally released your head from his crotch.

"You look like a cheap whore, spit and cum dripping down your chin. But you love it, huh? Bet that little cunt is just throbbin', desperate for this cock."

A small whimper escaped your mouth involuntarily. He was right, and you hated it.

"Want daddy to take that sweet virginity?" He cooed, watching as you laid on your back and spread your thighs, showing him your leaking cunt.

A guilty shiver ran down your blood, the idea of Rafe Cameron, someone who you had barely any romantic involvement with, taking your virginity instead of your boyfriend or future husband.

But the way his throbbing cock was staring at you, hovering over your aching clit, the idea of just saying fuck it was stronger.

"Ray?"

"What, baby?"

"Can you... nail my pussy? Fuck me hard?" You asked softly, staring up at him with those fucking eyes that drove him insane.

"Yeah? You want daddy to break this cunt in? What about your boyfriend?" He snickered, loving how needy you looked for him.

"He can't please me like you can, please, daddy. Want you to take my virginity, don't wanna wait til marriage." You were pleading pathetically.

His smirk was downright evil as he slowly slid his leaking tip up and down your drenched lips, making sure to tease your clit nice and slow.

"You're not as sweet and innocent as you make it out to be, hm? You're just a desperate cock-whore for daddy."

Another small whine escaped your lips at his degradation, clit throbbing with need.

"Please... need you s'bad."

He leaned down to gently capture your lips in his, although it slowly became more rough as he dominated your tongue and mouth.

He began to gently slide the tip into your leaking hole, the sensation making you gasp into his mouth.

"Relax f'me, yeah?" He murmured, sucking hickeys onto your throat as he began to slide further in.

Desperate fingers dug into his muscular back, eyes squeezed shut as he stretched you out. Luckily, you were soaked, so it was easy for him.

"Feel so good, stretchin' you out on my cock. You're not celibate, huh? Just wanted to wait for daddy."

A soft moan left your throat, feeling him suddenly stop moving. Your chest rose and fell as you gasped for breath, trying to relax enough to make it feel good for yourself and him.

"Rafe, fuck..."

"I know, sweet girl. 'm fully in, just loosen up f'me so I can show this little pussy what 's been missing," he cooed.

It took a few moments, but you finally felt him start to push his hips in and out. Your painted toes curled as he continued to press kisses to your neck, getting sloppy the quicker his sculpted body moved.

"Takin' this dick so well, this pussy was made f'me, yeah?"

You nodded your head, brain fuzzy from the sensation and his naughty words. Rafe fucking Cameron was taking your virginity, inflating his already high ego.

He brought a calloused thumb down to rub your hardened clit, your legs tightening around him at the added pleasure.

"That's it... let daddy claim this needy cunt. Your boyfriend is gonna be so mad, huh? Knowing you're Rafe Cameron's bitch now."

Your walls fluttered around him at his words, a low groan leaving his lips.

"feels so good, daddy," you whined.

He just hummed, his skilled hips rolling roughly into yours, the added pleasure of his thumb on your clit was only driving you closer to the edge of release.

"You gonna cum f'me? You gonna cum on daddy's dick while he takes your slutty virginity?"

"Yes, yes -- shit."

Your orgasm hit you hard, your body shaking as the coil in your tummy snapped. Eyes squeezed shut, walls clenching around his twitching shaft.

"Good girl, good girl. You want daddy to cum in this needy cunt? Give you a baby to remember your first time?"

An embarrassing sound escaped you, head nodding quickly. If you were able to think rationally, you would have said fuck no.

But his body was so warm, his grip was so tight, his thrusts were so rough yet deep, you just begged.

"Please, Ray? Please fuck a baby into me?"

He grunted at your pleading, voice so sweet, how could he refuse?

His hips snapped quickly against yours, grunts and filthy words being poured out from his mouth as he chased his release.

Finally, you felt him twitching, and the new sensation of his cum coating your vaginal walls instead of your throat made you whimper.

"Fuck..." he gasped.

All you could do was pull him down into another sloppy, breathy kiss. Lips smashed together, tongues brushing and fighting.

He rolled over onto his back when he disconnected your swollen lips from his, a big, calloused hand caressing your hip.

"How was that?" He asked softly, a tone you had never heard from him before.

"Really good," you nodded, still out of breath.

He hummed, letting you rest for a moment.

"C'mere, pretty girl."

He guided you onto his lap, still caressing your hip with one hand, the other going to grope your left boob.

"Daddy's gonna teach you how to ride dick now."

Your eyes widened slightly, knowing you were in for a long night.

[shrimpybbq]

rafe experiences the comfort of a mother

synopsis: rafe appears on his girlfriend’s doorstop, badly burnt and in need of care and affection

Rafe stood in front of the guest room, body stiff and hand frozen against the wooden door. He wanted to knock, he really did, and yet he was hesitant. Only the day before had the couple fought, screaming and shouting until both were out of breath. Rafe had watched his sweet girl leave with teary eyes and he’d felt bad, his heart twisting as she had slammed the door in his face. It was the same door he finally knocked on after realising he’d been motionless for too long. The rap of his knuckles echoed and for a moment, he wondered if she wouldn’t answer the door at all, until a creak sounded. Rafe raised his gaze to see his girlfriend standing in front of him, her fists rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.

“R-rafe? What are yo-”, she began to ask, voice heavy with tiredness, the hour late. It wasn’t until she looked at him properly that she paused, taking in his entire state. Rafe was standing there, clutching his arm to his chest protectively. It wasn’t the childlike pose that caught her eye though, no - it was the way Rafe’s eyes were filled with unshed tears and his bottom lip wobbling ever so subtly.

“Are you ok?” She asked gently, as if she were talking to their son. Rafe could only shake his head side to side, slowly pulling his arm away. At the sight of the red and blistering flesh, she gasped loudly, “Oh my god! What happened?”.

“I-uh, I got into some trouble,” Rafe responded timidly, full of shame and in pain.

“Come here,” his girlfriend said, gently ushering him into the guest room, “sit down. Have you cleaned this?” She asked. Again he shook his head, leading her to hum lowly. “Ok, I’ll need to clean it. Gimme a sec.”

Rafe sat on the bed patiently as he took in the room. He’d never been in there since she began sleeping in there, now taking in all the little trinkets she had lying around. He had been trying to get her to move back into his room but she still refused, and the pair used the nursery as a mutual zone.

His musings were cut off by a gentle voice questioning him.

“What happened Rafe?”

“It’s nothing, just an accident, you know?” Rafe grumbled out as she began to wet antiseptic pads in front of him. She looked up at him, gaze incredulous.

“This is bad, Rafe. You don’t just get something like this accidentally! You said you got into trouble before - what did you mean by that?” She questioned. Rafe sighed, having underestimated just how much she would question him, but he should’ve expected that, he thought to himself. When he didn’t answer, she began to clean his arm.

The sharp stinging sensation that travelled through him as the antiseptic touched his burn made Rafe jump, his voice exclaiming in shock. It was that sudden pain that caused the unshed tears in his eyes to spill over, and it was like once he started he couldn’t stop. All his pain and worries spilled out of him, the tears streaming down his face.

“Oh baby, it’s ok, come here,” he heard her say, cleaning forgotten as she pulled his head into her chest. Whenever she had comforted Rafe in the past, this had been his favourite position, curled up against her chest and having his hair stroked. So she did just that, soothing his heaving sobs with each pass through his hair. “It’s ok Rafe, you’re ok here baby. I’ve got you, ok? Breathe, Rafe.”

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, his sobs wetting the fabric of the tank top she wore. He’d almost completely exhausted himself by the time his sobs stopped, only able to breathe deeply now. It was then his muffled voice could be heard, “it was Barry.”

He felt her stiffen before she tentatively probed further. “Barry, your dealer?”

At the feeling of him nodding, she pulled him away from her chest. Her voice was stern, as if she was talking to a small child,

“Rafe, why is your dealer burning you? What did you do?”

He looked up at her, eyes wide and rimmed with red. He looked just a like their son, she thought, his features so innocent and needy.

“I-I couldn’t pay him back in time… I tried, I really did, but I had this thing and I couldn’t get it all there in time, and I said- I said to him I would get it bu-but he didn’t care,” Rafe began to ramble, his voice pleading with her to understand him. He had been trying to do better, for her - for his family. He watched her sigh, before she returned to clean his wound in silence. Rafe wanted to speak, to explain himself more but he didn’t know what to say, and the idea of her disappointed gaze upon him once more sealed his lips. The feeling of her fingers smoothing a burn cream over his wound tenderly had him curling back into her chest.

She began to card her fingers back through his blonde locks, feeling Rafe relax against her. When he was upset he would be one of two ways: angry and reactive, or clingy and touch-starved. Today, it was clear he was the latter. She couldn’t bare to leave him alone like this, and so she gently whispered,

“Come here baby, let’s get you into bed, ok?”

Rafe pulled away, his eyes wide as he looked up upon her face.

“Here?”

She nodded and began to pull the covers away, creating a space for him to shuffle in. Rafe allowed himself to be guided under the quilt and he couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of her fingers tenderly brushing his messed-up strands away from his forehead. As he made space for her beside him, Rafe watched his girlfriend pull away from the bed.

“Nononono-” he began to mutter, only to be cut off. His hand was outstretched pathetically to try and keep her by his side, scared to be alone.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’m just going to the nursery. I thought you’d want him to stay with us tonight,” she soothed, watching surprised as Rafe shook his head in response.

“No, let him sleep. Just c’mere,” he mumbled, dragging her into his side and under the blankets. Within seconds Rafe had found his position for the night, curled up into her side, his head resting on her chest once more. He was so sullen and quiet as he listened to her heartbeat, hands clutching at her waist.

“Goodnight Rafe,” she uttered sleepily, the events of the night catching up to her.

“I love you,” he said quietly, his voice muffled against her chest. He didn’t say it often, preferring to show his love for her through actions, but she always knew it. With a soft kiss against the crown of his head, she echoed those words back to him, before slipping into unconsciousness,

“I love you too, baby.”