#tw noncon mention

[confessyourship]

I think that getting off on dubcon/noncon is pretty common in religious ppl because thats the only way they can safely think about sexuality—by taking away that choice. Then it wouldn’t be a sin to have sex. You know what I mean?

🩷

[inkblot22]

(PS I don’t actually know the source material for idia I just stumbled upon one of your fics while looking at FFXIV Yandere fics so sorry if this sounds OOC)

I’m not super creative but what do you think might actually be Idia’ routine with his darling? Does he fall into any routine, does it change a lot?

Have a wonderful day (and happy late bunny day!) 🫶

I actually am of the opinion that this is a very creative thought! You should give yourself more credit. I like to idealize the day to day life, but it never occurred to me that writing it down might be a good idea. On that sentiment, I think maybe Vil or even Leona would have a better day to day routine. Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Also, wow, what a pipeline, FFXIV to twst?? You've got good taste lmao welcome to my blog.

I'll put this under the cut, and I'm also not promising that this will be very good. I use the 24 hour clock. I am constantly getting told irl that American people don't do that, but I'm evil, so I'm putting the times in 24 hour clock format.

TW for mentions of noncon, coercion, captivity, someone keeping someone else awake, a hint of Idia being an asshole

+ Idia doesn't really seem like he has much of a set schedule, but Ortho absolutely does and Ortho is lowkey kind of bossy, so...

+ Yeah uh, Idia's partner is absolutely out of luck. Idia likes night gaming a lot, and he gets loud, so good luck sleeping. Idia himself goes to bed late and wakes up whenever the heck he wakes up. He could go to bed at 0300 in the morning and wake up again at 0700.

+ As his kept partner, the schedule is a little more normal, like I said. Ortho doesn't really need to sleep from what I understand, (I haven't read all of book 6, no spoilers or else I WILL temporarily block you) but it's silly to imagine that he doesn't wake up or attempt to wake up everyone else around him as early as 0600.

+ After waking up, Idia will eat breakfast. I think it'd be delivered usually since Idia and his partner are basement dwellers, one by nature and the other by force. After breakfast begins work...

+ Or procrastination. Idia flip flops between extreme focus on what he should be doing and what he should not be doing. He manages to get his schoolwork done, but more often than not, he's asking his partner to cuddle up and watch a movie, drama, or his fingers flying across the keyboard. Idia will not ask them to cuddle if he is doing schoolwork or virtually attending classes.

+ I like to think that he smells smoky, on account of the flaming hair, and he runs hot, so prepare to SWEAT. In the case his partner doesn't really want to hang out with him, he will usually sulk and only occasionally get upset to the point of doing something about it.

+ I don't think he showers every day. I think he's an every other day type of showerer, based solely on him not being particularly active. This means that his partner doesn't have to run on his showering schedule and gets extra hot water on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

+ By the way, in the case that Idia's darling ever gets peckish, Idia has a snack stash that he proudly pulled out and showed them as soon as they were allowed to wander a bit. I figure they get hungry some time around 1400, especially if Idia is also eating at that time.

+ I think his metabolism is fast, but also a bit odd. He is a young person, and therefore he strikes me as the type to get randomly hungry. If asked very nicely (and with the promise of physical affection in some form) he'd be incredibly willing to make his partner something to munch on when he makes his own.

+ Despite Idia's partner being literally held captive in his room, with all his suspicious items and, worst of all, himself, Idia is about as respectful as a kidnapper can be about demanding sex. He doesn't like to be physically forceful about it, and he often will just jerk off in the bathroom.

+ The reason for this is very simple: If Ortho ever saw Idia having sex with ANYONE, Idia would spontaneously combust. Well, obviously he doesn't know that for certain, but it's a theory that he is not willing to test. He won't even talk about his preferences around his little brother.

+ As far as I'm aware, most people in captive situations do not tend to ask their kidnapper to fuck them unless they're being threatened in some way, but Idia's partner isn't typically being threatened (ignore the shock collar,) so they never ask Idia to have sex.

+ This does not stop Idia from being a whiny bitch about not having sex enough as soon as Ortho is gone for a few hours. The close quarters and sudden advent of a human being who he doesn't mind touching him is a big thing for Idia.

+ Ortho goes on "walks" in a sort of unusual schedule. That is to say that he doesn't have a schedule. If something needs to be picked up, he's tired of Idia not listening to him, he has his own stuff to do, or he just feels like it, Ortho will go out, sharing his location with Idia. From there, Idia will typically calculate how long it'd take Ortho to get back paired with whatever Ortho said he was going to do before he left, and see if he can squeeze in some coerced touching.

+ So. Good luck, Idia's partner. Idia will make a big stink until he gets bored or his partner gives in. His partner usually gives in, based on fear of what he might do alone.

+ Bedtime is somewhat randomized. If Ortho was out, when he comes back and it's any time after 2000, he will very subtly try to get Idia and his partner to start winding down. If both or one ignores him, he'll start getting upset.

+ Like I said, Ortho is kinda bossy. He will nag someone, and the worst part is that he's usually got their best interest in mind.

+On the off chance that Idia decides to go to bed at a decent time, he curls up behind his partner. He runs hot and smells smoky, and at some times it's not the worst thing. Some times.

+ By the way, a lot of this flies out the window in the event that Idia decides to attend classes in person. This is rare, so don't expect it to happen often, but it's not as good as it could be. Ortho goes with him and he locks up any way to reach the outside world, so all his partner has to entertain themselves is his manga collection, or the fun pastime of destruction of property. (This is a very bad idea, and I can expand on punishments later.)

+ In Idia's partner's case, every day is much of the same but just a little different, which makes it hard to keep track of time. The fact that Idia prefers low lighting and no natural light doesn't help this whatsoever.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Riot Kings, page 179.0

first // prev // next

[lady-phasma]

You can't ignore it

Part 2 of 2 (cross posted from AO3) - part 1

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; from my AO3 - "Bucky's metal arm kink"; mostly p n v sex, fluff, canon typical discussion of Bucky's past and violence, implied/referenced past noncon, discussion of ptsd.

Summary a/n: (copied straight from my AO3 because I am chaotic) I changed to 3rd person pov for this one because I needed more Bucky. Also, my OC has a name now! Hang in there, this is a long one. What is wrong with me? No beta. 4.5k words

I'm totally normal about his arm

His body twitched and jerked. He mumbled Russian words. His hands clenched into fists. Victoria sat up and reached for him, thought better of it, and dropped her hand to her thigh. She never knew how to wake him from a nightmare. Or if she should.

“Bucky,” she whispered. More Russian in response. Louder, “James.”

No reply. Dammit. He was in deep. This was a bad one. They had plenty of nights without these, plenty of restful, peaceful nights. There were some not-great dreams that weren’t as bad as nightmares. Then there were the nightmares. More like sleeping flashbacks. His body remembered and almost acted out the memory.

Bucky’s arm caught some ambient light and looked slick like oil. She was never afraid of him, that he would hurt her, but that arm… that arm was made from the most indestructible substance on the planet. It was intimidating. She wanted to comfort him, soothe him, stroke his forehead and tell him he was safe. That could so easily backfire. They had even discussed how dangerous it could be if she tried. They hadn’t come up with a plan, not exactly. In fact, he didn’t like staying over at night because he didn’t want to hurt her. Sometimes he fell asleep holding her but if he didn’t, if she fell asleep first, Victoria would wake up to find him sleeping on the floor.

She could see the shadows of pain on his face, the grimace and strain from some terrible thing she would never know or understand. She heard him groan. It was unbearable. That sound hurt. She slid closer to him on the bed, kept her eyes on his arm, and moved to lay behind him. As she cautiously placed her hand on his temple, caressed his brow, she whispered: “Otlichnaya, soldát, otlichnaya.” Well done, soldier, well done.

Bucky froze. He let out a breath and his body relaxed. Vic kissed the back of his neck. She didn’t like using those words. But he had told her that it was safe, safe to stop the nightmares that way. She had wanted the words to be a last resort but he had explained that the part of him that was so deeply the Winter Soldier would respond only to them.

“James?” she asked as she removed her hand, careful not to touch him anywhere else. “James, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” But her words weren’t heard. He was calm at least. She slowly moved to get out of bed. She felt a hand on hers as she sat up and let out a small gasp. The vibranium never felt like one expected it to feel.

“Vic,” he muttered. “Don’t go.”

She turned. He looked away, avoiding eye contact. His bare chest glistened with sweat. He released her hand. She sat curled up on the bed behind him, anxiously adjusting the bedsheets tangled around them. She was cold and her nipples were hard and obvious in her tank top. She crossed her arms to cover her chest. He gradually rolled onto his back and slid up the bed to prop himself against the headboard. Wearing only his boxer-briefs he looked very… vulnerable. Not powerful like he often did, muscles rippling and arm gleaming, but young and frightened.

In that moment she saw him as he might have been when HYDRA first captured him. Before the years of missions and horrors had written their histories on him, in pain and scars. She wanted badly to comfort him. She had no idea how. She moved next to him, placed her hand on his arm. He looked up at her. That look broke her heart. Without thinking she leaned back on the head of the bed and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. She coaxed him into her arms. His vibranium arm curled against her stomach as he lay on his side. She ran one hand over his hair, down his shoulder, and rested against his back. She laced the fingers of her other hand into his metal ones and kissed the top of his head.

------

The mechanisms whirred and clicked as he removed his arm. It was more than a little disconcerting. Even in motion and moving as a part of him it was odd, now it was lifeless. Nothing like it on earth. This wasn’t a prosthesis. His arm was a weapon but, also, not. Lying there it was passive and non-threatening. But knowing him, knowing his past, it wasn’t benign. It held immense potential under its shiny surface.

He rubbed his chest where the shoulder was grafted on. It must hurt sometimes.

“What’s up?” Vic asked, standing in the door to the bedroom.

“Nothing really,” he replied. “Feeling kinda old today maybe. Tired.” He sighed and looked up from the incongruous arm on the bed. His eyes swept over her and up to her face. “After nightmares like last night it feels…. heavy.”

“Do you go without it often?”

“No,” he said, hesitantly. “I enjoy the freedom of having both arms but, occasionally.” He randomly fingered his dog tags then dropped them to his chest and ran his hand through his hair.

“Come over here, Vic?” he gestured toward her. She walked to the bed and sat on the edge. The edge that put his legs between her and his disembodied arm.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m okay,” he looked directly into her eyes. “In fact, maybe we make a standard procedure. If I’m going to be sleeping over here often. I don’t like that anyone has to see me like that but my therapist says I have to ‘nurture relationships’.” He rolled his eyes then winked at her. He slid his right hand into hers.

“Maybe we just figure out what’s most comfortable with you, safest.”

“Right,” she said. “I don’t want to make things worse but it worked. Whatever you were dreaming, remembering, those words stopped it. I’m not scared of you, you know. I just care about you.” She squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek.

“Look, I’m going to make some coffee. Come join me? We can talk more when I have caffeine, kay?” He nodded as she stood up.

Bucky looked at it, immobile on the bed. So odd and so yet completely natural for him. He got off the bed and went to the bathroom. Almost always grateful that he was right handed; it made tasks like this much easier. When he returned to the bedroom he looked at yesterday’s clothes piled in the floor and decided he wasn’t ready for that. Somehow, putting on clothes meant putting on the arm. He let out a shaky breath. Coffee, he thought, yeah, okay something normal.

Victoria set the coffee up to brew and grabbed a few mugs. She set them on the bar with half and half and some sugar substitutes. She wasn’t sure how he liked his coffee. She heard footsteps behind her and then felt his arm around her waist. He kissed her shoulders and back, then the top of her head.

“That smells nice,” he said. “Thank you.”

She turned to face him. She stood on the balls of her feet just a bit and kissed him. He was only just tall enough that she had to reach if she didn’t have shoes on. Vic took a small step back and turned to pour the coffee. From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of his boxer briefs stretched tight over his thighs and, well, not just his thighs. She grinned at the coffee pot. Maybe he was a gentleman, old fashioned still, but he hadn’t rubbed up against her like most men who spent the night. Not that there had been any since she met James.

She handed him a mug and deliberately walked too close to him on her way through the kitchen. She held her coffee in both hands using the steam and mug to hide her smile as she gently brushed her hip against his erection. He inhaled audibly.

She slipped onto the bar stool and gestured for him to come sit next to her. After adding her cream and sweetener she noticed he was drinking his black. Military thing? she wondered. He was sitting on her left and after placing his mug on the bar, swiveled just a bit to put his hand on her thigh. Her panties were barely any fabric at all and her tank was basically see-through, she felt suddenly naked. Vic took a sip of her coffee to try to hide her vulnerability. She didn’t meet his eyes and stared fixedly at his dog tags. She was trying to avoid his stare and not get caught glancing at his crotch. Jesus, she thought. Then: oh, right, Super Soldier.

She felt his fingertips touch her chin. He coaxed her to look at him and he leaned in to kiss her as she lifted her head.

“Victoria, does it make you uncomfortable if I don’t wear it?” he asked, continuing their earlier conversation.

“Not really, no,” she paused. “I think I could get used to it but it’s not something I’m accustomed to. Plus, well it’s not who you are but it’s so much a part of what you look like. Unless you’re in long sleeves.”

“I went for years without one at all. In Wakanda.”

“Right,” she said. “Yeah, I knew that. And you told me you had long hair too.” She ran her fingers over his ear at his hairline. He took a sip of his coffee and his eyes half closed, soothed.

He placed his mug on the counter. His scowl was back on his brow when he turned to face her. He moved his hand back to her thigh.

“Come with me,” he said and stood up.

She followed him. They headed back to the bedroom. His ass was high and tight in his underwear. She could follow that anywhere. He continued through the bedroom into the attached bathroom. She watched him make himself at home. He moved with a silent grace and never fumbled with using just one hand. He got towels out of the cabinet, started the shower, and turned to her. By now his erection straining against the fabric looked almost painful. She watched, breathing heavily, as he deftly slid his underwear off his hips and stepped out of them. He stepped toward her and lifted her flimsy tank. She raised her arms and let him undress her. He dropped the shirt on the floor. Before taking off her panties he grazed the back of his hand over her hard nipples and down her belly.

Victoria had no idea why she wasn’t self conscious with him. She let him touch her stomach without flinching or cringing. She let herself enjoy the feeling of his hand sliding into her panties, slowly pulling them off her. She closed the distance between them when she tossed them aside with her foot. His eyes moved up her legs and body to her breasts. He leaned in and kissed one, sucked a nipple between his lips, licked it. She stifled a moan.

Bucky slid his hand around her and pressed their bodies together. His kiss was hard, impatient. She kissed him back and instinctively reached up to grab his biceps. The empty air on his left startled her and she opened her eyes. He kissed her forehead, maybe knowing what she had just thought, and led her by the hand into the shower.

Without words he directed her movement. She let herself be guided by him. Once her hair was wet and she reached for the soap he swapped places with her and stood under the water. She watched him closely as he closed his eyes and leaned back under the shower. The water ran down his face, pooling and spilling over as he moved. His dog tags caused rivulets to form on his chest and she let her eyes follow these to his stomach and that lovely spot, that “V”, where his perfect torso met his hips.

She wasn’t really using the soap as much as she was just holding it. His erection was taunting her. He was acting like it didn’t exist. She stared a moment too long and felt eyes on her. She blushed.

“Yes?” Bucky grinned.

“Uh, yeah, huh?” she mumbled.

“Funny enough, that’s not what I wanted to show you. Here,” he reached out for her hand holding the soap. She stepped closer to him, almost under the water with him. He nodded at the soap, so she lathered a bit in her hands. Then he took the soap and set it on the ledge. He guided her hand. She swallowed, gulped almost. Her mouth had gone dry with anticipation, a bit of fear, and a good deal of anxiety. He gently laid her palm on his ribs, on his left side, and slid both of their hands up to the seam between flesh and metal. Her eyes darted from their hands to his face and back. He was watching her face. But he kept moving their hands, using her hand the way he would his own, washing the vibranium shoulder prosthesis. His muscles rippled and stretched as he moved their hands over and behind him. She had to step closer and onto the balls of her feet to reach. He let go of her hand to steady her, placing his hand on her waist. She almost didn’t notice, like she almost didn’t notice that his incredibly hard dick was now pressed against her stomach.

She was entranced by this intimacy. Taken aback that he was so vulnerable with her but simultaneously beyond what the word “flattered” could convey. She slid her hand back to his ribs, technically his armpit, and looked up at him. He was smiling. That flat, kind, Bucky smile. No one she ever knew smiled like that but she also didn’t know many 106 year old men with a metal arm.

“Vic, I want you to be comfortable, okay?”he said. “I have had decades to get use to this and you haven’t. I don’t want it to be a ‘thing’ as they say now.”

She blushed again and leaned into him. She pressed him back into the running water and kissed him. While they were kissing, tongues slipping against each other, she used her hand to rinse the soap from his shoulder. He smiled and she felt his teeth against her lips momentarily. He laughed a little. She pulled back, unsure of herself, but he didn’t let her go far. Bucky leaned down and kissed her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. And he didn’t stop.

His fingers dug into her hip, using her for balance, as he knelt. Kissing her body through the entire movement. He kissed the hollow of her hips. Gently kissed the bare skin above her pussy.

“Back in my day, grooming wasn’t so…” he trailed off. “Complete?” She blushed harder than she thought she ever had in her life when he looked up at her. Eye contact with Bucky while his lips were on her shaved skin made her feel a wave of faint panic. All of the blood seemed to have run out of her head and straight to his mouth. She closed her eyes, put a hand on the shower wall, and felt his laugh vibrate through her.

Then his tongue. His tongue dipped further down and she was immensely grateful that he had a firm grip on her. She had barely noticed that she had begun to part her legs for him and that she was leaning precariously into his hand. Trust. So much trust that she wouldn’t collapse and die in the shower. No, trust that he wouldn’t let her fall. But these thoughts, if they were even concrete enough to be called that, were forced out of her mind when his tongue went inside her. She groaned. He pulled back and licked the length of her, back to her clit, and toyed with it. Sucked it in gently between his lips then passed his teeth lightly over it. Her hand found the back of his head and clutched at his short hair. He laughed a bit and the vibration was intense. Her pressure on his head increased slightly. He took this as his queue that playtime was over.

Bucky sucked and licked her clit but took his time. Slowly, firmly, tasting her, exploring. He pushed his tongue as far into her as he could. He pulled out and licked everywhere, anywhere. Then, guiding her with his hand so he could find a better angle, he placed the tip of his tongue in the wetness just before her ass. The sensation sent an impulse through her and she pressed on the back of his head. He quickly, gently, licked her ass then in one movement licked back to her clit.

“Oh fuck James!” she yelled. “Just. God. Damn.” She panted. He sucked harder on her clit, barely breathing, rolling his tongue over it. He squeezed her hip tight so she would know he had her. He pressed his face hard against her and sucked and traced circles on her clit with his tongue. He felt her orgasm start as a faint shake in her hips.

She leaned against the shower wall, overwhelmed by the sensations: the water from the shower, Bucky’s mouth, the strain of holding herself up, his goddamn tongue. Then she started to shake. She came in waves. She almost screamed his name but bit it back, cursed, then let herself go. She yelled a string of expletives. The last rush of her orgasm passed through her and she let go of his head. He inhaled deeply. She looked down at him and laughed.

The towel was fluffy and soft. Through her drowsiness she followed Bucky to the bed. He sat, hair dripping water onto his back and shoulders. His towel was around his waist but didn’t do much to hide his… anticipation. She giggled to herself. She thought about how uncomfortable he must be by now. But at almost the exact moment the thought entered her head it was pushed out by what she was seeing. Yup, Bucky had picked up his vibranium arm and laid it on the bed next to where he sat, purposefully, where she couldn’t avoid it.

She wasn’t afraid or turned off, had no negative feelings about it. What was bothering her, the roadblock she kept running into, was whether or not it was appropriate. She bit her bottom lip and looked at him as she sat down.

“Well?” he asked. “What do you think?”

“Um…” she swallowed hard. “I think I don’t want you to judge me and I don’t want to offend you. No, that’s not the word, I know it isn’t but I don’t know. I…” She let the sentence end before it had begun.

“Go ahead,” he said. “It’s okay. Do you honestly think I would lie and tell you it was okay if it wasn’t?” That Bucky smile again.

She looked from his beautiful face to the beautiful black metal and back again. He nodded. It was laying palm-down on the bed, slightly bent at the elbow. She gingerly traced a finger over the back of his hand, up the forearm, following the gold seams around the vibranium plates. From the corner of her eye she saw Bucky move his hips, adjust a little. She pressed her palm onto the warm metal of his bicep, caressed the muscle and slid her hand back down to his wrist. She flattened her hand on the back of his, right on top of left, and because that looked odd somehow because that was the only odd part of this she slid her hand underneath, palm to palm. It was somehow light and heavy at the same time. She could have lifted it but the weight of his and on hers felt natural.

When Bucky moved she jumped the tiniest bit but didn’t pull her hand back. He reached under her arm and picked up the prothesis, not separating their hands completely. The clicking sounds were jarring but the actual process was fascinating. Complicated parts opened, moved, adjusted and then accepted the arm seamlessly. Nearly instantly she felt him gently squeeze her hand and she jumped. Se let out a nervous giggle then stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. His muscles flexed and moved like flesh.

Vic leaned over to kiss him and he met her halfway. She placed her hand on his chest, gently pushing him back on the bed. She let her towel drop as she straddled him. She loved the feeling of his erection between them. His hips moved to accomidate her. She let out a sigh. Moving slowly she put their clasped hands above his head, grabbed his other wrist and pinned him to the bed. His chest heaved and she felt his heartbeat race. Bucky let her hold both his hands above his head while she kissed his vibranium arm. Wrist, forearm, bicep, shoulder, even nuzzling under his arm. She breathed hot against his chest before licking his nipple.

He moaned and pushed his hips up. She bit him playfully and smilled when she felt him twitch between her legs. She let go of his hands so she could slide down and continue kissing and teasing. Moving with purpose to her goal. She ran her fingertips gently over the tip of his dick and felt his precum slick beneath them. She looked at him as she licked it off her fingers. His eyes closed and he groaned.

“Damn,” he breathed.

She adjusted to get a better, easier position and wrapped a hand around his dick. He was so hard and sensitive. She kissed the tip and lapped up the new drops of precum. She squeezed a bit tighter as she slid his foreskin down. The noises he was making and the slow movement of his hips encouraged her. She licked the length of his dick, wetting her palm with her tongue. Then she slid him into her mouth. Her lips were tight around him. He tangled his fingers in her hair and tried not to push into her. She felt the head of his dick against the back of her throat and stopped just before that annoying spot, swallowed, felt him respond, and picked up the pace. She ran her free hand up his inner thigh, making him shiver and grip her hair tighter. She lightly scooped his balls into her hand and squeezed and released as she sucked and licked. It took all of her focus to coordinate her movements but it was worth it. He squirmed and moaned. His other hand went to the back of her head as well. She ran her finger along the smooth skin behind his balls and he broke. She stopped sucking and let her jaw relax as his hands held her head. He fucked her mouth. Muttering her name, obscenities, and then suddenly stopping. She looked up at him as he dropped his hands to his sides.

“I can’t, I don’t want to, well,” he stammered as she slid her lips off him one last time. “I want to, you know.”

“You are so eloquent,” she laughed, still massaging his balls. “They have a lot of words for ‘cumming while you fuck me’ in the 1940s, huh?”

He half-grunted a laugh and let his head fall heavy onto the mattress.

“Okay then,” she said. “Fuck me until you cum.”

She pressed her body into his as she moved up to kiss him. When their lips met he kissed her back with ferocity. With his inhanced strength he flipped her onto her back and spread her legs with his thighs. Her head spun. She wrapped her legs around his hips. He kissed her neck, her chest, her nipples. She pushed her hips against him. Her wetness on him made him kiss and lick more fervently. Her hands went to his biceps like always. She arched her back when she gripped the slick metal.

“Oh god, Bucky,” she moaned through gritted teeth. “Fuck me please.”

He reached a hand between them and guided himself into her. She was so tight and hot and wet. He shut his eyes and dropped his head next to hers, breathing heavily into her ear as he slid all the way in. Her muscles tightened around his almost too thick dick as he moved, slowly at first. His hips made slow, grinding circles. He propped himself up on his elbows, grabbing onto her neck and shoulders for leverage. He pulled her hard onto him, going even deeper.

Victoria gasped but met his force with her own. She pushed against him with her hips and grabbed his ass with both hands. This was all the encouragement he needed. His thrusts became longer but quicker. Nearly pulling out of her each time. His hand reflexively tightened and released on the back of her neck each time. She knew they couldn’t keep this up long. She was going to cum soon and thought that would probably send him over the edge with her. She seized this moment of clarity.

“James,” she whispered. She moved her hand from his ass and lightly touched his left shoulder. She trailed her fingers down his tricep. He didn’t pause, didn’t miss a beat. He continued sliding in and out of her wet heat but lifted his head to look at her. She increased the pressure of her fingertips on his arm and smiled softly at him.

He moved his weight to his right arm. He looked straight into her eyes while he slid his vibranium fingers around her fragile throat. She moaned and pushed down on his thrust into her. He started to squeeze. She exhaled and closed her eyes. He pressed his fingers harder into her flesh watching her face. He felt her contract around him, he squeezed harder. She let out a small gasp and her eyes opened. Her orgasm rocked through her and she arched and pushed against him. He tightened his hold on her. Then he felt the heat pour out of him. He growled and buried his face in her hair. His cum filled up the space between them, hot and sticky. With his last spasm he released her neck.

“Goddamn, Vic” he sighed. He pushed into her, filling her up one last time. She panted and clutched at him. She welcomed his weight as he almost collapsed onto her. Neither wanted to move but he slowly withdrew and rolled onto his side. She felt his cum drip out after him. She stretched and sighed and smiled at him. He watched her with heavy-lidded eyes. While she had his full attention she slipped her hand between her thighs and felt his cum. His eyes widened just a little. Then she brought her fingers to her mouth, his eyes following her hand. She licked them clean. He smiled that Bucky smile. He wrapped both of his arms around her, pulling her closing and kissing her. She kissed him back and crushed herself against him.

[eviltothecore13]

Hi, may I ask if you were also surprised when it turned out that Wesker has a son? And your opinion on Wesker having a child and on Jake as an character?

I was surprised, because it had been a fairly common fandom assumption that he was either gay, or among those who didn't ship Willsker or Chrisker, that he was aroace.

That being said I actually quite like Jake as a character and his dynamic with Sherry.

I've also very much come around to Wesker being bi and really don't like it when people claim that RE6 "is homophobic because it made Wesker straight" as if bi people don't exist. On the whole at this point I don't find the idea of him having a son implausible, I can find it believable enough that he had some kind of relationship with a woman who ended up (apparently without his knowledge) having a kid...

I just wish the fandom did more interesting things with it. Admittedly it's been a while since I looked for this kind of fic but I feel like a lot of what I've seen either involves noncon (which there's really NO evidence for in what we've been told about their relationship), or the OC woman Wesker's being paired with (who's meant to be Jake's mother) is of the "passive, submissive blank slate" trope (think, Bella in Twilight, Ana in 50 Shades), which tends to fail to convince me of what he'd see in her.

[justproshiprants]

What is with antis repeatedly claiming proshippers go out of their way to expose minors to "proship content"??? Proshippers existing in a fandom that also appeals to minors isn't them going out of their way to show "proship content" to kids.

Minors that are proshippers aren't helpless babies who need antis to patronize them, especially since if that proshipper says they don't need help they will still get sent death and rape threats because that's totally a perfectly normal thing to send to a minor and doesn't automatically make you the worse person in this scenario. (/s)

Tag your shit appropriately but that's pretty much it. If a minor looks straight at a fic of mine that's clearly tagged with a tag like rape/non-con and reads it anyway that's not on me. They should've been taught in the first place to not go out of their way to look at 18+ content. The internet isn't and has no obligation to be a child friendly space, especially when we have warnings to tell minors to stay away from certain types of content.

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 5

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” | Bite

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Contains: lady whump, magical restraints (cursed jewellery), suicide mention, magical forced contraception, forced labour, captivity, reference to dubcon/noncon sex as well as consensual sex

WC: 910

Docile as a lamb

As always, the maidservant tried to conceal the garish bites and bruises on her skin. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said, not for the first time. “They don’t hurt.”

As always, her friend—her only friend, a fellow servant with wispy yellow hair and kind golden-brown eyes—prodded her with a tone gently teasing, yet with an expression full of sorrow and concern. “I should hope not.” She carefully, tenderly positioned the maidservant’s hair so it partially masked the marks. “Otherwise, I’d fear that  . . .” She paused. “That whoever you’re using to make me jealous hasn’t the faintest idea what they’re doing.”

The prince, the maidservant thought bitterly, had known exactly what he was doing.

She sometimes wondered if he knew or cared that the girl who shared her bed was, many nights, more than a mere friend. If sometimes he took petty revenge by branding her the way he did. “We should be off,” she said, trying not to let too much gloom creep into her voice. “Shall we go?”

Her friend sighed, letting the topic drop, moving on to lament the dawn of another long, ordinary, mind-numbing day of work.

Or so the maidservant thought.

After supper, when work was done and she was ready to tumble into her cot, nestled against the warm, welcome body next to her, a knock sounded on the door of the servants’ quarters.

A guard, trimmed in smooth leather and glinting steel. “You’ve been summoned,” he said, jerking his head. “Come with me.”

Of course, the prince made her wait. Not in his bedchamber, but a counsel room—hollow stone, dark and windowless. Stomach twisting with nerves, she stood with her head bowed, wondering what he wanted.

Had she displeased him? It took very little, most days. Spoken out of turn? Left a stain on a priceless silk tunic? Did it have to do with his secretly harboured jealousy that he was not the only one she bedded? What if it had nothing to do with her at all, but her brother? Had he tried to kill another guard? Escaped his chains? Tried to flee?

The possibilities swirled relentlessly through her head, biting and snapping, until the prince finally appeared.

She dropped to her knees when she saw he was not alone.

“You see?” the usurper prince crowed to his mother. “Obedient as a little pup. Docile as a lamb.”

The maidservant bit her tongue.

“It certainly seems so,” said the queen, her voice harsh and suspicious. “Look at me, girl.”

Despising herself for proving him right, the maidservant obeyed.

It had been a long time since she’d laid eyes on the queen at such a close distance. There she stood: the woman who had ordered a whole family slaughtered and then stolen a crown still steeped in royal blood. Jealously, the maidservant observed that unearned power suited her well: her locks were glossy hazelnut-brown, streaked with elegant grey, and she was resplendent despite the late hour in a gown of silver and cream velvet, trimmed in dainty pearls and hand-stitched lace. Her cold moonlight eyes, matching her son’s so perfectly, swept over the maidservant, cruel and unimpressed.

The sharp, disapproving line of her mouth twisted ever so slightly. “How can you be sure she won’t run? Or squawk?”

In a few surefooted strides, the prince stood beside the maidservant, jerking her roughly to her feet with a hand on her elbow. “Get up.” To his mother, he said, “Please. Give me some credit. I’m good at what I do.”

As if she were a puppet, built of long-dead timber and manipulated by fine, invisible strings, he lifted one wrist, showing off the tiny charm hanging off her bracelet-shackle.

“This one keeps her inside the palace boundaries.” Fondling carelessly the one at her throat, making her wince as the chain cut into her skin, he added, “And this ensures she cannot reveal her true name.”

Despite the mistrust clear on her face, the queen smirked. “And the others?”

“Oh.” He snorted. “So she can’t kill herself.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot that was a necessity with this one.”

“Both of them,” said the prince, and the maidservant watched, numb, while the two of them laughed.

He didn’t explain, or perhaps didn’t need to, that the charm in question also prevented her from harming not just herself but anyone else, even in self-defence. Even if her life depended on it.

Nor did he bring up the last charm, the one she both loathed and was grateful for, which meant there would be no unwanted bastard heirs growing inside her as long as the cursed ornaments remained.

“Please, Your Highnesses,” she said, twisting her hands and staring at the floor. “Why . . .” She paused, thinking better of her phrasing. “How can I serve you tonight?”

There it was—that slow smile she hated more than anything in the world. It crawled over the prince’s face like an infestation of insects, dreadful and sinister.

“Not tonight, little lamb.” She blanched, fearful of whatever malevolent promise those four words held for her. “Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow—the festival. The ball. “I—But—?” She choked back a protest. “Your Highness?”

Surrounded by strangers—visitors and courtiers who would look right through her. Unable to plead for deliverance from this hell. Unable to even whisper her own name.

“That’s right, pretty thing. You’re going to make yourself useful, finally. Really earn your keep. I have a job for you.”

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[spreadingawarenessandlove]

TW!!!! PLEASE Read The Tags And Help Me Reblog!!

The author of "Flowey Is Not A Good Life Coach" made a Fontc*st fan fiction. Please help me spread this information.

[dreveel]

hi! being proship is just believing in ship and let ship and freedom of fiction. this is a lot of misinfo about it online but being proship does not mean you necessarily ship problematic ships it just means you believe in peoples right to express themselves

This is an incredibly loaded statement, while I think people should be allowed to do things I also believe there is a line. My line is legality, child abuse, beast content, necrophilic content, incest content, and noncon content are not welcome here. There is a time and a place for all of that primarily in different kinds of therapies, vent works and other non sexually gratification based content.

but as there are children that follow me I don’t feel comfortable with my content being used for any of it. I can respect people who have a paraphilia they cannot control but I do not want my content used for that kind of stimboards, writings, ect.

however if you choose to use it privately in a small group with everyone of a consenting age and mental state, for just yourself, or for you and your therapist as part of your treatment that is fine.

However, if a ship is just unpopular, or not a positive ship, has horror elements, and or is just toxic I don’t care. As long as it is legal, tagged properly, and you aren’t using it to actively harass people I do not care.

TLDR; No child, animal, corpse, or sibling ships everything else is on the table as long as it’s legal. Tag your stuff properly and do your best to keep it out of the hands of those who should not view it.

[sharper-than-a-serpents-tooth]

The possibility that being sickly and weak after giving birth to a healthy son didn't stop the Emperor from continuing to rape Claude's mother and he still expected her to have sex with him...

[ravenzeppeli]

🩸Twisted Fate |Yandere Ghiaccio x Reader Angst|

Warning: strong/violent language, threats, kidnapping, murder [random men], physical abuse, dark thoughts [thoughts of - noncon, abuse, torture], verbal abuse, torture [broken bones, choking, beating]. Extremely dark - MA.

Comission

Ghiaccio's POV

Ghiaccio could clearly remember the day that you vanished away from him eight years ago, your entire family, as well as you moving away. For years, he's tried to track you down, searching for you, for any signs of your existence so he could return you back to himself. You belonged to him, and one day, he felt as if you would return to him.

As the years passed, he started to lose hope, his mafia affiliations being no help in tracking you down either. How could someone just up and vanish? The pain of losing you was hard for him, his sadness turning into a permanent, icy rage that he could no longer control. How dare you just up and leave him after he promised to marry you once the two of you turned 18. You've wasted so much of his life with you, and now he's going to be all alone forever. All alone because you fucking left him.

Months had finally passed since he'd last continued his long search for you. Despite him thinking of you every single day, he tried his best to distract himself heavily with work. At night when he got home he would pull out an old picture of you, staring at it until his eyes were fucking blurry and watering. You were permanently burned into the back of his mind. All he was left with was one single fucking picture of you as a reminder of what he lost forever. A reminder of a perfect love that he thought that he lost forever.

As a folder with your picture appeared on the mission table, Ghiaccio's heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he snatched up the folder. Instead of lying to his capo Risotto he explained who you were and how much you meant to him, how you were his high school sweetheart that he lost once the two of you hit adulthood due to you vanishing. Lying to his capo was something that he never did, Risotto was understanding when it came to his men. He was a great captain and someone he trusted deeply.

The man who placed a hit on your head was a random male, a male having no ties to the mafia, but it seemed that you had ties to a completely different mafia organization, a new organization that was trying to rise above the rulings of Passione. The group was small, only five men and you in total, and he planned to fucking kill all five of those bastards. In fact, Risotto gave him permission to kill not only those five men but the man who placed a hit on you as well. As fate would have it, you would be returning to him after all. He would be allowed to keep you. To have you as his again.

Risotto made it clear to Ghiaccio that he would have to complete this on his own, and that if he messed up he may just lose his life, but it was a risk that he was willing to take. It was a risk that he was always willing to take, especially now, considering the stakes were so high. The stakes of you being all his again, rather you fucking liked it or not. You didn't have a choice. You belonged to him, and he would make sure that you would never leave his side again.

It only took him one day to take out the pathetic hitman team that you were a part of. Smaller mafia families always disgust him, and the fact that his beautiful beloved was a part of that? It pissed him off, and it pissed him off even more when he realized that you actively were living 30 minutes away from him. Right under his nose.. for years you've been fucking right here, right under his fucking nose, purposefully avoiding him. How dare you. Why would you not want to be with him?

Tracking you down now that you had no protection wasn't hard. In fact, it seemed as if you were waiting for him. He entered a cheap apartment complex, the dim lights flickering as he pushed into the apartment complex where you lived. One of your fucking teammates ratted out where you were in exchange for his own life. After the man disclosed your location, Ghiaccio blew his fucking cock off with three quick shots, watched him bleed out, enjoying every second of it. That's how he killed all five of your teammates as well as the man that placed a hit on you, feeling enraged with the fact that those men were around you while he was stuck without you for the past eight years.

Sitting right on a worn-out dark leather couch was you, your head raising slowly, body immediately going stiff once you saw him. You looked so much older, so much more beautiful than he remembered.. that pissed him off, his hands balling into fists as he slammed your apartment door shut as he stepped in, locking it with a swift motion.

The tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife, a knife that he wanted to slice across your soft skin as punishment for leaving him. Your soft, beautiful flesh.. he wanted to fucking tear into you for leaving him. He wanted to beat you bloody, bruise up your pretty little face and break your nose. He wanted to make sweet love to you, filling your cunt with his seed. So many things.. he wanted to do so many beautiful things to you.

"You fucking cunt," Ghiaccio growled, his heart skipping a rapid beat as he approached you. With no hesitation, he pulled out his gun, pointing it straight at you. "Eight fucking years.. I've been waiting eight long years to see you again. Where the fuck did you go!?" He pressed the barrel of the gun to your forehead as you raised your head to look up at him. You couldn't fucking run away from him now, he would blow your goddamn brains out if you tried anything stupid. Or he would crack your head open with the gun, whichever he was feeling.

A tad bit of fear washed over your cute little face, your eyes slightly widening as he pressed the barrel of the gun deeper into your forehead, forcing you to look up at him further. "Ghiaccio," you whispered, venom dripping from your voice. How dare you not speak to him with love. "I didn't want to marry you so I left. We were graduating in a week so I panicked and left, I left you a note behind." The disrespect.. he couldn't believe the disrespect that he had endured for so long.

A dry laugh escaped his lips as he dropped the gun from your forehead, a small circle imprint being on the center of your forehead due to how hard he pressed the gun against your forehead. His free hand balled into a tight fist, crashing into the side of your head with force, your body limply falling to the side. "NO!" He screamed, rage filling his body. "Your shitty note only said bye and nothing else, you dumb cunt!"

Anger completely took over his body in this moment as he climbed on top of you, his fist raising, crashing into the side of your face, making a low pop sound, a pained cry escaping your lips. "Cry, fucking cry you unloyal whore! I know you let those men fuck you, they said you didn't but I know they're lying! You're mine, you're fucking mine!" He raised his body slighly, his fist raising again.

A sharp sting across Ghiaccio's cheek caused him to freeze up, his glasses flying off of his face, making a light thump sound as they hit the ground. In the past, when he beat you up, you would cry and beg for mercy. Never did you hit him back in the past. These eight years have changed you. They've made you unclean. He didn't like the feeling of not having control over you. He expected to slip into immediate control.

"Fuck you," you spat up at him, your blood coating his face. "I hate you, I never loved you!" Tears were rolling down your face, that causing a grin to appear on his lips, despite your words and you slapping him, your tears meant that he was breaking you again. What he was about to do to you, he would take much joy in it. He would enjoy this so fucking much, because as beautiful as you are, as much as he wanted to marry and impregnate you, you needed to be hurt. If he hurt you badly, he would just fix you up. It was fine, he could fix you up and buy you things later on once he finished destroying you mentally as he did oh so long ago.

Your entire face was bloody, blood pouring from the side of your head, your entire left side of your face sporting a large purple bruise that had blood seeping from a small cut the middle of the large bruise. Your bottom lip was slightly rolled out, swollen with little bite marks from where you bit down on your lip. You must have done that to muffle your pain. How fucking pathetic.

He grabbed the hand that dared to slap him, bending three of your fingers back until he heard three snaps. "Dumb cunt, think I care about your love!?" He snapped, low sobs escaping your mouth, your body finally trembling beneath him as he held up your hand, your three broken fingers starting to swell and turn purple. "I will rip your fucking fingers off and shove them down your throat if you ever slap me again! Now apologize before your entire arm gets broken, you brainless bitch!"

"S-sorry," you gasped out, his other hand quickly wrapping around your throat, beginning to squeeze.

Killing you would be so easy, so easily he could squeeze your fragile little throat until your body went limp. He could leave you here to rot, leave your body in this dump of a place for the rats to pick at you. No.. he's waited this long. He's waited for you to come home with him and marry him. You belonged with him, he couldn't just end your life. Ending your life would mean that you would be gone forever. He wanted to kiss and fuck you, he wanted you to be his property again.

He continued to squeeze, watching the life slowly drain from your eyes as you weakly wiggled beneath him. "Come back with me or die." His hand squeezed harder as your mouth muttered 'die', his other hand raising, beginning to repeatedly punch you in your stomach, not using his full strength so that you could still answer him. "Come back with me! Marry me! I'll beat you to death, I'll strip you naked and beat you for weeks until you die! I know how to keep someone alive for a long time, I've tortured countless men to death!"

Pained moans escaped your lips, your tears mixing with your blood, staining your neck red. "Fine!" You cried out, blood spilling from your mouth. "S-stop, I'll do it!"

He let go of your throat, leaving a dark bruise behind, the blood that coated your neck caked onto the side of his hand. He didn't mind. After all, you deserved this beating. You deserved to have your throat fucking slit for leaving him those many years ago, but he would push that from his mind. After all, he loved you. He didn't want to kill you, he only wanted to beat you so that you would love him and be submissive. He would beat all of the ignorance out of you, beating his love into you.

"I love you baby," he muttered, his throat sore from all of the yelling that he's done all day. He's yelled more today than he's ever has in his entire life, and that was saying a lot. "I've searched for you these past years, I'm so happy that you'll be returning to me." He let himself lean down, his body leaning over you as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your limp body into a tight hug. "My sweet girl, did you think I wouldn't find you? It was fate, we are meant to be!" That folder showed up for a reason. Fate wanted you to be his. The universe had brought you back into his arms, and he was so grateful.

"P-please," you sobbed, but he didn't know why you were sobbing. Shouldn't you be happy that he found you again? "I don't wa -"

"I don't give a fuck!" He snapped, raising his hand, roughly smacking the back of your head. "Now hug me back. I'm your fiancé now, and soon I'll be your husband. You'll be beaten and fucked until you are perfect."

Weaky, your arms wrapped around him, sobs escaping your mouth as you clung to him. You said nothing, and he liked that you weren't saying anything. You just needed to shut the fuck up and accept his anger. You being submissive and kind will get you treats, fighting back and being mouthy would get your teeth knocked down your throat. Either way, he would get what he wanted. All he wanted was you, he found you beautiful with or without a fucked up face and missing teeth. The choice was up to you.

"Good girl," he muttered, sitting up as he pulled you into his lap, placing a kiss on your forehead. "I'm so glad to finally have you back. Isn't fate perfect?" He got no reply, a satisfied hum escaping your lips as your head weakly rested on his chest, your low sobs providing him with comfort, a smile appearing on his lips as he listened to you sob and shake in his arms. He was so happy to have you back, so relieved. Relieved because now you were his again, and he wouldn't ever let you slip away from his grasp again.

[absolute-flaming-trash]

I love your blog because at this point finding Mahito fans on tumblr is becoming more impossible than breathing in water

I swear his hashtag is pretty much just hate and I even saw someone saying that he was "rapey". It's genuinely becoming a bit unbearable, as someone that likes the guy

Yeah I saw that too, and I just want to make a little cautionary note before continuing to answer this.

Gentle reminder this is a yandere/DC blog. One of the main things I write is noncon. I happily welcome any and all Mahito lovers who want to spend time here, and you don't have to read that kind of thing if it is not your fancy, but I'm just giving full disclosure there.

Moving on, however, I shall namedrop a few fellow Mahito lovers for you and those who are looking and want to enjoy in whatever degree they feel comfortable (if you do not know about these lovely people already).

@after-witch - Fellow DC creator, adore them with all my heart, and one hell of a writer.

@meefy - Most of their work on AO3, but also so so so wonderful. Eating their fics with a spoon. Love them to death.

@redcallisto - When I tell you this artist has my soul...

[lady-phasma]

Зимний Солдат (Zimniy Soldát)

Part 1 of 2 (cross posted from AO3)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; from my AO3 - "Bucky's metal arm kink"; mostly p n v sex, fluff, canon typical discussion of Bucky's past and violence, implied/referenced past noncon. Written in first person fem!reader.

Summary a/n: Some feels but mostly reader and Bucky are simmering at this point. (This is how old this fic is: Events take place after F&WS Episode 5 - I want to add some plot and character details but there are only 6 episodes so I’m waiting until we find out what episode 6 brings us.) No beta. 3k words.

“Like dancing, it’s been a while,” he smirked as he looked down at his gloved hands. A pained smirk. He ran his thumb across the knuckles of his left fist.

“I’m sure it has,” I said. I reached up and brushed my fingers along his jaw, coaxing him to look at me. “Dancing has changed a lot in 78 years, this hasn’t.” I smiled and his face softened. His shoulders relaxed a little.

Without speaking I took his hands in mine and started to slowly remove each glove. First his right hand, grazing his palm with my fingers, then his left. The vibranium was warm to the touch. He flexed his fingers as if taking off the glove reminded him that his arm was metal. I held my hand out, palm up, offering it to him. The warm metal folded around my hand.

“How much can you feel?” I asked him.

“Everything,” he said and made small circles with his thumb in my palm.

I stood up from the couch and let his hand fall to his lap. He looked up at me as I slid my hand into his jacket. I slowly started to remove it but he got the hint and shrugged out of it. I straddled him and surprised him by sitting on his lap. I gently pressed on his shoulders, getting him to lean back on the couch, relax a little. His chest heaved with a sigh. My hands rested lightly on his t-shirt clad shoulders. “Well maybe it has changed a little,” I grinned as I teased him.

“Yeah, I don’t remember it quite like this,” he smiled and winked at me.

“I hope that not all changes are bad,” I whispered as I leaned in to kiss him. My hair fell by my face and he reached up to tuck it behind my ear. He placed his palm on my cheek and kissed me back. I wanted to pace myself, not rush anything, but it was proving difficult. I wanted to feel his tongue, to part his lips with my own tongue, but I was really enjoying this 1940s kissing as well. I pulled back a little so I could look at him. His eyes were closed. I pressed my cheek into his hand.

He opened his eyes, seeming to wonder why we stopped kissing. When our eyes met I turned and kissed the palm of his hand. His hips twitched slightly underneath me. I put my hand on top of his and pressed my lips harder against the metal. I began to make my way down his palm and wrist to his forearm, weaving my fingers between his. I glanced up at him as he leaned his head back on the couch. I watched the rise and fall of his chest as I kissed his arm. I slid my free hand up his bicep to his shoulder, fingering the ridge at the connection of metal and skin briefly before resting it on his chest. His heart wasn’t racing but I could feel it beating. I closed my eyes, sighed warm breath against his vibranium, and kissed the inside of his elbow. I released his hand as I kissed his bicep and he placed his hand on the back of my neck.

“Damn,” he sighed. “Definitely not how it was in 1943.” He raised his head and smiled, blue eyes sparkling. He gently pulled me toward him and kissed me. His hand moved into my hair and pushed me harder against his lips. His tongue slipped past my lips and I opened up to let him in. I pressed my chest against his and breathed deeply into our kiss. Bucky moved his hips as if he were uncomfortable so I spread my legs a bit wider. I moaned, deep and quiet, when I felt him hard against me. I shifted my weight in his lap and he inhaled sharply and grabbed my ass with both hands. He raised up to kiss me and lift me off his lap in one motion. Before I knew what was happening I was sitting on the couch and we were no longer kissing.

“What? Is everything-““Yeah, yes,” he cut me off. “It’s… fine. I just need a breather. You know… just don’t want to end this too early.” He looked down at his hands.

“Okay,” I said. “Do you want to talk?”

“Sure.”

“I have wanted to ask you something for a while now,” I stammered as I looked at my own hands. “It’s strange but I was curious if you really had never, you know, in all those years…”

“Is that a question?” he asked but didn’t wait for me to answer. His voice got lower and his tone was immediately serious. “Um, yeah, a few times I guess. I remember every mission, every encounter, every command. So, consenting? Not in almost eight decades. As him at least a handful of times.” “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “God that sounds so lame when I say it out loud, but I am very sorry.” I reached out for his hand. His skin felt cool when he took my hand in his. I slid closer to him so that our legs touched. I placed my hand on his thigh.

“Well, I’m only in a little bit of a hurry,” I winked. He smiled and leaned in to kiss me. He placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed a little. I immediately noticed how much more intense that touch was. Not more forceful but there was no give, no softness, in that hand. I moaned a little into our kiss. He pulled back and looked at me. I couldn’t meet his eyes so I smoothed my hair behind my ear. I intertwined our fingers and pressed my shoulder into his other palm. I encouraged him in a feline manner, pushing against his hand. He understood. His hand slid down my arm, onto my breast. When he paused I inhaled deeply and forced my chest out. His hand tensed and relaxed. He started to make small circles over my nipple with his thumb. Feelings like electricity shot from where he touched me to my crotch, making me jump a little. I finally met his gaze and languidly smiled at him.

He untangled his hand from mine and placed it on the small of my back, guiding me with the slightest pressure. I followed and moved back into his lap, straddling him again. So many sensations all at once: his hand pressing harder against my breast, his dick hard against me, his hand sliding up my back under my shirt.

“Bucky,” I moaned. I leaned into him, breathing near his ear, pinning his arm between us. I ran my hands through his hair, down the back of his neck, and over his biceps. I nibbled at his ear and kissed his jaw. Slowly, his hand slid away from my breast, toward the top of my jeans. “Yes, please,” I encouraged.

He cursed under his breath a bit as he got closer and fumbled with my buttons. I straightened up long enough to help him then pushed my body against his. His vibranium was smooth and warm against my belly. His fingers brushed against me not teasing but taking his time. I wanted so badly to speed things up but I didn’t want to pressure him. This was on his time but my hips twitched involuntarily and he inhaled sharply. He seemed to hold his breath as he slipped one finger over my clit.

“You are so… wet,” he mumbled.

“I know,” I replied. “I want you that much.”

Almost timidly, he slid his finger further down, then inside me. I rocked my hips on his lap and kissed him, hard. He slipped a second finger in. I moved slowly with him inside me, watching him. I held his face in my hands. He seemed so relaxed, so peaceful. For the first time I saw the scowl fade away from his brow. He closed his eyes. His fingers curled slightly inside me while his other hand travelled down my back and onto my bare ass. My jeans needed to come off but I didn’t want to stop him. I groaned and ground my hips into his hand. The vibranium seemed to match my body temperature and where I expected to feel metal I felt only him. I kissed his forehead, his cheek, his neck, his shoulder and then… I was back there, my lips on his arm. The metal worked and flexed as he moved with me.

I couldn’t take it anymore and began to move to take off his shirt. He looked at me and picked up on the hint. Neither of us wanted him to move but both of us wanted more. More skin, more contact. I lifted his t-shirt up and he moved his hands out of my pants. Oddly, I noticed his his left armpit was also metal. The crazy things we think in these moments, my brain said to me I bet he saves money on deodorant. I felt myself smile. I dropped the shirt on the floor, ran a hand down his bare chest, around a nipple, and over his stomach. Wow. Super soldier indeed. I think he blushed at my touch. I gently lifted his dog tags and then let them clank back onto his chest.

“You still have dog tags, Sergeant?” I teased.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he mumbled, looking down at them. “Steve gave them to me. I guess, after HYDRA got me, these got stashed somewhere. He never said where he found them but they’re mine from the war.” My eyes widened at the thought of what these tags had been through over 70 years. I ran my fingers over them, the chain, and up to his neck, barely touching as if they, and he, were fragile.

I slowly reached down to unbutton his jeans but he grabbed my hands and gently began to push me back. I stood up. Before he could start I slipped my shirt off and stood in my bra and jeans. He kissed me just above my belly button. Smoothed his hands up my back to unhook my bra. I shrugged it off. He pulled me to him. His face was hot against my nipples. The cool air in the room and feeling him on me made them hard. He kissed one then the other. With his face still close to me he pushed both hands into my jeans and panties and slid them down until I could step out of them.

I was normally too shy to be this naked, this vulnerable, standing in front of a man but James made me feel enough. I didn’t rush to hide my stretch marks or try to distract him from looking at me. I let him look. His eyes followed the curve of my hip as he trailed his hand down my thigh. His vibranium hand slid to my ass and squeezed. He smiled and pulled me closer, covering me with kisses. I sighed deeply and ran my hands through his hair. I wanted him so badly. Why was he still wearing pants?!

I bent down slowly and ran my hands down his sides. His smooth skin taught over strong muscles. I got my fingers just in the waistband of his jeans when he understood and leaned back. He unbuttoned them and raised his hips to let me pull them off. Taking both underwear and jeans off at once required some awkward movements but then there he was. Just as vulnerable as I was. The scars at his shoulder stood out in contrast against his lightly-tanned chest. I reached out and touched the edge of the vibranium just where it met his skin. He shivered.

I moved toward him but he shook his head. He gently guided me to lay down on the couch instead of sitting. I smiled. He slid to half-kneel between my legs and pulled my hips close to him. My small giggle surprised even me. He ran his hands down my thighs, placing my legs so I could wrap them around him. Then he leaned forward. His biceps quivered as he propped himself up on his hands, one on either side of my head. The black and gold vibranium catching the light in the room, his dog tags swaying between us. I could feel him watch me looking at his arm. He kissed my neck. The movement resembled a push-up and I couldn’t take my eyes off the flexing of his arm. He kissed my collarbone, my shoulder, my breasts, each kiss accompanied by that flex and release. I ran my hand along the vibranium tricep, feeling it move under my touch.

“Bucky,” I started.

“Mmmm?” was his reply.

“Do you, well, I don’t know how to ask really… Does it bother you?”

“Not at all,” he looked into my eyes. “It turns me on actually. I like that you like it. Instead of it being this weird, shiny elephant in the room. Hell, you could be disgusted by it I suppose. But, no, not bothered in the way you mean.” He grinned that half-grin and raised an eyebrow. “Plus, it’s not going anywhere.”

“Good, that you aren’t bothered, I mean” I looked away. “One more question… are you sure you want this, now I mean? It’s not too fast?” He replied with a deep kiss. He slid his hand under me, to the small of my back, leaving his vibranium arm by my head. Then, for the first time, I felt him hard against my naked skin. I groaned and bit my lip. He slid his dick over my clit and between my lips before tentatively sliding inside me. His face was a little scrunched with concentration and his eyes were closed. I took that as a cue not to move or take things beyond his pace. So I kissed his forearm. I moved a hand to his back and then to the curve of the top of his ass. I didn’t pull but pressed my fingertips enough to let him know he could keep going if he was ready.

I felt every inch of him move into me, so slowly I thought I would lose my mind. I was so used to fast fucking, little intimacy, and not near-virgin sex. I reminded myself that he wasn’t a virgin and I let out a deep breath. He opened his eyes and kissed me as he began to move, began to pull out and return, a steady pace. His hand on the small of my back moved to grip my hip and pull me toward him. Harder. I moaned. I lightly grazed my fingernails over his back. He shivered.

I squeezed him tighter between my thighs and felt him deep inside me. Tiny drops of sweat were starting to bead up on his forehead. He was concentrating so hard. I buried my face in his neck; kissed and nibbled my way to his shoulder. I wanted to try something but I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. I tried to think of a way I could ask. It was selfish, of course it was, but I was going to cum soon. If I were going to ask it needed to be while I could still make a coherent sentence. His hips rocked between us and the feeling of his entire body against mine was the incentive I needed.

“James?” I whispered close to his ear. I moved my face directly in front of his and placed my hand on his cheek.

“Hmm?” He slowed and looked into my eyes.

“Um… would it… would you like me to say it? To call you that?” I didn’t take my eyes from his. I didn’t know of a better way to ask without just being direct.

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second when he understood. He blushed. He stared at me and nodded. Then he tucked my hair behind my ear with his vibranium hand and leaned down to kiss me. As he did, I arched my back to meet him, our bodies pressed firmly together. We kissed for a long moment.

He pulled back, took his hand from behind me, and propped himself on both hands again. I loved this safe space, this intimate place between his arms. I could barely see anything but him. I caressed his back and shoulders and kissed his vibranium. He increased his pace every time I did that. I felt my muscles start to tense and the heat build from our connection. I couldn’t catch my breath. As I came I put my lips near his ear, moaned as the orgasm rushed over me, and said:

“Zimniy Soldát”

He drove hard into me and his breath became shallow. I put my hands on his neck and the back of his head, making soothing noises in his ear.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “You are safe. I want you to cum because you want to. I want to feel you do that. I want you, Zimniy Soldát, all of you.”

He let out a sound, somewhere between a cry and a moan, and bit his bottom lip. He dropped his face into the crook of my neck and fucked me as the waves of pleasure shook his scared, beautiful body. He dropped to his elbows and pulled me into a fierce hug, fucking me deeper. I groaned so loud neighbors could have heard me. Something warm was on my shoulder and I wondered if he had shed a few tears. Before I could even think to turn his face toward me to sooth him, he moaned and froze. He whispered my name. All of his muscles seemed to tense at once and I felt him twitch inside me, the last of his cum spilling into me. I didn’t want to move, to make him feel like he should move yet. I turned my head slightly and kissed his jaw. His vibranium hand slid up my back and he curled his fingers in my hair, tugged just a bit.

He raised up and kissed my neck, my jaw, and then looked down at me. He brushed his lips against mine. I tensed around him and he groaned into our kiss. Our breaths mingled together. He slowly pulled out of me. It was my turn to groan. I moved my legs so he could sit up. Instead, he moved one of them and laid down behind me on the couch. He pulled me to him, the full length of our bodies pressed together. He ran his hand down my side, my hip, up my belly, and over my breasts. I listened to the slight mechanical whirring with every movement. He tucked my hair behind my ear, then gently kissed my neck.

Part 2

[linkspussy]

Shout out to this message I got a few months back because the OP literally never posted on Tumblr again after this

[depths-of-the-boundary]

((Frankly speaking... Why has there been no approach to females raping males (at least from what I've seen)? Woman don't need dick to have that much power.))

[angrelysimpping]

this is kinda a odd request but how would rémy and bailey react to finding their s/o was stealing money from them

Contents: Remy (they/them); Bailey (they/them); Reader (you/your); noncon, not explicit; punishments, not that explicit either

Words: ~200 each

The fact that you're their significant is the only thing saving you, really. Anyone else would wake up on the farm or the underground brothel and left to rot. 

Remy

Deeply hurt, but also a little concerned. Why are you stealing their money? Don't they give you everything you need? Is someone blackmailing you? If it’s something like that, they’re more likely to go easy on you. Yes, there’s still a punishment even if you’re being blackmailed. You should have gone to them, after all. If you had just told Remy everything from the start, they wouldn’t have minded giving you money. Sure, there might have been a few teasing remarks about paying them back, but, really, in the grand scheme of things, they wouldn't have minded. 

Stealing from them though? And not even for a ‘good’ reason? You better talk quick before Remy loses their temper and does something they’ll later regret. Won’t send you to the farm if you’ve been a long-term partner, they don’t like the optics of someone close to their standing being reduced to cattle. That won’t stop them from branding you, though. Or locking you in a breeding dummy to take out their frustrations on you. Not likely to publicize your punishment, at least?

Then, after Remy feels you’ve paid them back enough, or, enough for that session at least, they’ll take you up to a room in their manor. Washes any wounds, tucks you into bed. Kisses your forehead goodnight and then starts again in the morning. Rinse and repeat until they feel you’ve truly paid them back and learned your lesson. 

Though, expect to have a few jobs around the farm now, if you didn’t have any before.

Bailey

Good fucking luck. 

It’s immediate violence. A hand around your throat, Bailey snarling and right up in your face as they ask what the fuck you think you’re doing, stealing from them. Your answer won’t get you a lesser punishment, but they need to know. Being blackmailed is just as bad as if you were doing it for kicks. 

They’ll make you pay them back, and you don’t get the luxury of paying them in weekly installments or choosing how you make that money. Bailey’s personally renting you out so you can make the most money as fast as possible. Still, you’re their partner. Even if you were stealing from them like a fucking snake, they’re not letting you go. Really, once you’re Bailey’s partner you’re stuck with the fucker. 

This means they vet the people they sell you to and sit in the corner of the room, sending emails on their phone, while you’re…doing whatever. Getting fucked, working as a maid, whatever the person with enough money and the ability to pass Bailey’s background check wants you to do. 

Never lets you have the ability to betray them like that again.