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taintandviolent · 4 months ago

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Something 'bout Her ; Jimmy Darling x Reader

summary: Jimmy Darling has fallen hard for the new lemonade stand girl (reader). She consumes his every thought, and one summer day, he decides to invite her on a picnic date. Little does he know, she's had a thing for him, too.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 2.4K | female reader, smut, use of pet names (mainly baby since I overuse that in Jimmy Darling fics), no use of y/n, some light fingering, grinding, and good ol' fashioned fucking (p in v).

a/n: a quick little somethin' somethin' - requested by @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re! divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / playlist here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

There was something about her.

Something that had wound Jimmy up so tight; his heart gave a squeeze every time he saw her. He knew he was in too deep, too deep for a gal that he’d have to leave in a few months, but there was just something about her.

But before he’d gotten himself in trouble… he’d met her. It was Elsa’s fault, if anything. The Freakshow had gained popularity, a moving, breathing machine that was ever-changing. One of the most recent additions was that they now needed to provide refreshments for the patrons. With that, came the need for employment – and Elsa, of course, had only hired the prettiest girl to run the lemonade stand. It was good for business, she said. And, it turned out, it was. People flocked to her during their open hours.

She was everything Jimmy dreamt about when he laid his head against his pillow; from the way she moved, to the light, breathy sound of her laugh, she was a gem. A diamond. One that twinkled so bright, it had blinded him. So, really, could anyone blame him when he decided to lay the flirt on nice and heavy one summer day?

“Hey there,” he said.

“Well, hi,” you replied, a slight lilt in your voice. You leaned forward on the podium, resting your elbows on the painted wood.

Jimmy grinned a lopsided smile and leaned against the edge of the stand.

“What can I getcha’?” You asked, innocently. His heart thudded in his chest. There she went again, just living and driving him crazy.

“Well,” he started, scratching the side of his face with a conjoined digit. That was another thing, he didn’t have to hide himself around her; she accepted each member of the troupe with open arms, treated them as if they were normal. She was kinder to him, to everyone, than most girls ever were. “I’d like a lemonade… but most of all, I just came to talk to you, baby.”

You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks flush at the mention of baby, your heart fluttering desperately in your chest. Every interaction you’d had with Jimmy Darling had been viewed through rose-tinted glasses. You were enamoured with him and his undeniable charm. You licked your bottom lip and leaned back a little, questioning his response. “Talk to me? About what? Lemonade?”

“No…” He trailed off, looking into your eyes.

Thud-thud. Your heart skipped another beat and you had to fight to control your breathing.

“Then– then, what?”

“What’re you doin’ tomorrow… before the show?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Nothing, I suppose.”

Jimmy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He had to just come out and say it, it was now or never. He’d mustered up the courage and if he waited any longer, he’d lose it. “Wanna’ have a picnic?”

You clasped your hands together, your eyes glittering with excitement. “Who is going to be there? I can bring cherries… I just bought some from the mark–”

“No, baby. I mean, you can bring the cherries, but nobody’s comin’. Just you n’ me.”

“Just you and me…” You repeated, trailing off. “Jimmy Darling, are you asking me out on a date?”

“What if I was?”

“Well, I suppose I’d have to say yes.”

“Yeah? You would?”

“Yeah… I would.” You leaned forward on the podium again, your eyes flicking towards the empty field. A few cars were pulling in, arriving early for the show. “I’d love to.”

So, Jimmy had performed that night with an unusual energy in his step. Eve noticed. Paul noticed. Elsa noticed, but didn’t care enough to speculate why. Performers… a fickle bunch. He’d spotted you in the audience, at your usual spot at the entrance, with your arms crossed over your chest. He’d winked, and you’d blushed.

The next morning, Jimmy was up early. No earlier than he usually was; Ethel was a hard worker, and was usually up with the first birds and Jimmy had inherited that habit from her. Today however, he had a reason. He’d showered, and was in the kitchen tent, making chicken salad sandwiches before the sun had even started to warm the tent.

At around 9:30, he’d knocked on your trailer door. You, too, had already been up, your nerves making it impossible to sleep past 7:00. By 9:00, you’d done your hair and makeup, and sat on the edge of your bed, picking at your manicure. The bowl of cherries sat on your small table, along with a few Cherry-A-Let’s, as a treat for afterwards. You’d made an extra pitcher of lemonade the night before and stored it in your trailer. So when Jimmy’s big knuckles rapped on the door, you bolted towards it, smiling wide.

“Hi Jimmy,” you cooed, dreamily.

“Hi, baby…” He had a folded, checkered tablecloth tucked under his toned bicep, and his hand was wrapped around the handle of a basket full of sandwiches. There it was again – baby. He had a real habit of making your heart go berserk underneath your rib cage, causing it to hammer against the bones like it was trying to escape.

The walk was a short one, but the summer heat still coated you in a thin layer of sweat as you walked, carrying the pitcher in your arms. The ice had long since melted, but you hoped it would still be refreshing. The field was surrounded by long, slender trees, and up ahead, you saw another clearing. It was smaller, and a large Willow tree provided some shade. Once you were upon it, Jimmy dropped the basket, shook out the table cloth and laid it on the ground.

“Sit.” He demanded, walking you towards the fabric. You set the lemonade pitcher down next to the tablecloth and sat, smoothing your dress out as you did. Jimmy made quick work of laying out all the food, and got you and himself a sandwich from the basket. He pulled a radio from the basket and set it down, using his thumb to twist the knob until a clear station came in. Music floated on the warm air, and you began tapping your toe against nothing in time with the beat.

“You take all the girls up here, I bet…” You took a bite of a sandwich and set it carefully on the tablecloth.

He cleared his throat, readjusting his position. “Would ya’ believe me if I said I didn’t?”

“I don’t know. I see the way you look at all the pretty girls in the audience, Jimmy. I’m no fool.”

“Yeah, well… none of ‘em even hold a candle to you. And I mean it, this is uh… where I come to clear my head. Only Eve knows about it. She found me up here once.”

Your gaze softened at his confession. Whether or not it was true, the sincerity in his voice had you believing every word. You reached for a cherry, before popping it in your mouth. Your teeth punctured the flesh and the sweet juices flooded your mouth.

“Lemme’ have some of that sweet lemonade you made, would ya’?”

You reached for the pitcher and looked around, a disappointed expression muddling your features. Jimmy furrowed his brow, wanting to know what had upset you.

“Oh…” you said sadly. “I forgot to bring glasses… how foolish of me!” All that prep, and you had no way to drink the lemonade. Suddenly, a lewd idea popped into your head. Your cheeks and neck immediately flushed, and your hand came up to your chest, where you pressed it softly. No… I couldn’t…. But I could.

“Jimmy,” you started. “I could pour some in your mouth… I’ve got real good aim, I promise.”

Jimmy’s dark eyes widened and he swallowed, cocking his head to the side. “You wanna’... uh… alright.”

You brightened up at his acceptance and got to your feet, bringing the pitcher with you. He didn’t have to know – but he did – that this was also selfish, because the idea of pouring lemonade into Jimmy Darling’s mouth was oddly erotic.

“Tilt your head back,” you said, as you moved to slot him between your legs, kneeling down over him and looking down at him with an unbridled lust in your gaze. Jimmy, the wonderful, willing man he was, obeyed and tipped his head back, looking up at you with a slightly nervous expression.

“This is one of my good shirts… don’t miss, huh?” He chuckled warmly.

You shook your head, your coiffed waves bouncing with the motion. You lifted the pitcher above his face and lined the spout up carefully with his mouth, before tilting it forward and letting a healthy stream of the liquid fall down his throat. The sun caught the lemonade as it went down, a glittering flow of sunlight and lemon juice. You couldn’t help but stare at his throat, stretched and exposed, sunkissed and warm. Jimmy swallowed once, twice, and then reached up to tap your leg, signaling that he’d had his fill. You brought the pitcher upright and silently congratulated yourself on keeping your focus.

With his cheeks full of lemonade, he swallowed again, and looked to you, grinning. You were still happily on his lap, your knees on the outside of his thighs. Though originally innocent, the heat between your bodies was quickly doubling, tripling even, and you felt him shift his hips back. You immediately shifted yours forward, pressing your core against his.

“Can I taste…?”

Jimmy’s eyes went wide. Wider than before. “I don’t know about that baby, I’m afraid I’d…”

“No, I meant…” You leaned forward, pressing the tip of your nose against his. “Can I taste it? Here…”

Jimmy’s eyes searched yours for a moment, his heart pounding, before he crushed his lips against yours. They were soft and sweet, and your breath rushed out into his mouth, smelling faintly of cherries. Your tongue darted out, slipping into his mouth, and sure enough, the taste of lemonade met your tastebuds, sugary and refreshing.

You deepened the kiss and readjusted your legs, bringing yourself closer to him. Jimmy let out a deep, throaty sound that reverberated in your mouth. You felt your core clench with arousal, twinging with heat and couldn’t deny the wet pooling between your legs.

“Jimmy,” you murmured into his lips before pulling away. “No one is going to find us up here, right?”

Still reeling from the kiss, his jaw hanging slack, Jimmy shook his head. The silence hung heavy, but he blinked, forcing himself out of the daze. He cleared his throat before down the length of your body. “No, babydoll, no one is gonna’ find us up here. Eve knows we’re up here, and she’d stop anyone that tried.”

“Good,” you said, your hands snaking underneath the side of your dress, to your waist. Your fingertips brush along Jimmy’s cock, which is already hardening rapidly. You gasp and pull back, looking at him with big, bright eyes. “Jimmy!”

“What?!” He harshly whispers. “You can’t… kiss me… like you are and not expect me to get all riled up.”

You look at him, a slow smirk twisting around your lips.

“C’mon baby… touch me. I know you wanna’.”

“I do, Jimmy… I have for so long.”

“Then, go ahead. Nobody’s gonna’ find us. I promise.”

Your hands drifted in between your bodies again, and that time, when the hard bulge met your fingers, you didn’t pull back. Instead, you palmed him outside of his trousers, rubbing your hand in a vertical motion. Jimmy tipped his head back, his big, wide hands climbing your backside up to your waist. “Hoh’, god…”

It isn’t long before you’ve undone his belt buckle and reached into his pants to pull his cock free. Every touch brings a carnal reaction from Jimmy and it fuels you, pushes you forward. You’d been waiting weeks for this, to have any sort of attention from the Lobster Boy, and now, you had him underneath you with a hard-on.

“You wanna’ do it, baby?”

“Uh-huh.”

Jimmy hooks his thumb around the hem of your underwear, pulling them to the side and moving his hand to your thigh. With his cock now free and bumping into your swollen clit, he adjusted his hips, and tapped your backside once. “Lift up a little, baby.”

You do and Jimmy quickly reached under your dress to line his cock up with your entrance. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Come on down…”

You started to, and the velvety soft head presses against your slick hole, pressing past it. You hesitate at the fullness, but Jimmy bucks his hips up a little, forcing him in halfway. He nods encouragingly, and with his hands on your hips, slowly urges you down onto his cock. The sensation is overwhelming at first, but the ache is quickly replaced by something you need more of – a dull throbbing, a hunger.

“Oh my god, mmph!”

You fell forward into Jimmy’s sunshine-warmed neck, and pressed your lips against the skin there, sucking it gently into your mouth. Jimmy’s hips bucked up into yours, his dick sliding wetly from you with each thrust.

Jimmy found his rhythm and fucked you hard in that little clearing. Your moans were muffled by his skin, but his weren’t. He couldn’t help himself and groaned loudly with every movement, tilting his head back. The way you felt, the way your cunt clenched around his cock, squeezing him in a wet, slick heat was unbelievable. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt something so good… even the last time he fucked.

“Yeah,” he slurs, lust-blown and heavy. “Yeah, baby. It’s okay, I feel those hips movin’...”

You whimpered. He’d brought you so close to the edge of ecstasy that your hips had unconsciously started rocking back and forth, forcing yourself against him, forcing friction on your clit. Never losing his rhythm, Jimmy coaxed your orgasm out of you, taking fistfuls of your ass in his conjoined fingers. He used his grip as leverage, pulling you hard onto his dick as he chased his own orgasm.

“Lemme’ hear those moans, honey… C’mon. Don’t be shy.”

The overstimulation started to build in your core, and you couldn’t help yourself – whether Jimmy Darling had asked for it or not. A moan left your lips, one that came from your core. That was enough for Jimmy; his thrusts went erratic, losing their steady pace.

“Oh god,” he groaned. “Oh god!”

You felt immediately full, your insides pumped full of white heat. Jimmy felt it drip out of you, onto his legs, and grinned. There were few things greater than filling a gal up… especially one as pretty as you.

#Jimmy Darling #American Horror Story #American Horror Story Freakshow #AHS Freakshow #Jimmy Darling x reader #Jimmy Darling x you #Jimmy Darling x y/n #fem reader #female reader #x female reader #american horror story fanfiction #american horror story smut #evan peters smut #myfics

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artficlly · 5 months ago

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king of pentacles [one-shot]

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x fortune teller!reader when your travelling circus rolls into town, you are warned that bucky barnes is the outlaw who rules these lands. you plan to keep your distance, but he and his men can not resist a little entertainment.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, blowjobs, begging, p in v, cowgirl position, bit of teasing, soft sub bucky??, if you squint theres some plot, fortune telling, tarot cards, violence, choking, blood, mention of death, mention of torture, mention of beatings, implied previous non-con to reader (not from bucky), protective bucky barnes, smoking, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i literally cannot even tell you where this idea came from. i had a vague thought about a travelling circus, tarot reading character. i wrote this out and edited it in like two days?? insane. i don't normally write smut so let me know your thots lol. if you enjoy western marvel aus, please check out some of my other works. i have a one-shot called 'me & the devil' and a mini-series called 'a dish served cold'! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

It was a windy autumn night when James Buchanan Barnes and his pack of vermin invaded Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow.

There were scarcely few in the area who had not heard of Barnes and his gang of outlaws. From the moment your caravans had pulled across state lines, you had been warned not to cross Bucky Barnes or his dogs. The law did not concern itself with this place, a place so far west that civilization had been left behind. The memories of cities, people, and culture were a mere whisper on the winds, a fleck of sand in an endless desert. This place was ruled by barbarians, and Bucky Barnes was their king.

You had heard stories of the fabled man. Some said he was the devil himself, that he sported horns and hooved feet. Others said his eyes were black as the night but reflected the light as if he were part beast. Those terrified people would recall his wrath and how his enemies were never afforded a simple, painless death. No, those who crossed the King suffered for their crimes.

So when that twisted, cruel man of legend stood before you... You were surprised to find he was none of what he was rumoured to be.

It had only been an hour since the nightly show had wrapped up, darkness falling quickly due to the colder months looming. The gang of outlaws had stormed your small campsite, locating your leader and employer, Duke Elkhorn, and demanding they be entertained! The candles had been lit, and the music was playing. The animals had been brought from their cages once more, and dancers and performers were laced back into costumes. Barnes had asked for entertainment, so you would provide it, lest you find yourself dead in a ditch.

Thankfully, you had not yet taken off your own outfit and makeup. A kohl to line your eyes; your lips painted red; hair loose with intermitten beading and braids. You wore large jewled earrings and layers of necklaces that partially covered the deep v of your neckline. Your dress was tightly fitted, your breasts were pushed upwards by the corset beneath, and your skirt was a deep green that swirled around your legs with each movement. Your small tent was filled with a haze of incense, lavish velvet, and silk used as draperies. Your tent was divided into two sections—your working space and your personal quarters. You had been checking your appearance in your cracked mirror when the ruffle of fabric alerted you to his presence.

He stood with an unquestionable air of confidence, a cigarette in hand. His eyes narrowed as he looked you over, a cruel smirk playing across his lips. He was large and burly, with muscular forearms that bulged against the fabric of his sleeves, which had been pushed up to gather at his elbows. Blood stained his collar and sleeves, and a gold pocket watch was tucked into his vest. His dark hair was windblown, bits peeking out from under his black, cattleman hat.

As he flicked his cigarette, you realised his knuckles were bruised and split. A subtle splatter of blood across his cheek, smeared, as if somone had reached up and grasped his face in their dying moments.

“Our mutual friend, Mr. Elkhorn, told me that if I was lookin’ for a pretty thing to come find ya.” His voice was deep when he spoke, gravelly and rough. It sent a shudder down your spine. Damn Elkhorn. You always knew he was a coward, even though he thought himself a big man. You and the other performers were not strangers to his temper and desperation. You all tended not to challenge it, as he could be a cruel man as equally as he could be fearful.

“He weren’t lyin’ was he?” He lets out a low whistle, exhaling smoke. “How’s he kept you a secret for so long, huh? Guess mah boys don’t come pokin’ in the tents that often. Too busy pokin’ their bits into them dancer girls.”

You remain silent as he chuckles to himself. He eyes you greedily; his icy blue eyes are anything but discreet. You could feel how his gaze rested on the curves of your hips and breasts, watching how your skin moved with each breath. Desire was a strange thing—how easily you might shift from feeling confident and powerful to nothing at all.

You certainly felt like a squirming idiot under his gaze.

“I’m not a whore.” You speak up, though your voice is hushed, hesitant, or even uneasy. You knew men like Barnes would not take being denied well. If you thought Elkhorn’s brutality was something to fear, your knees would positively buckle before Barnes.

Barnes barks out a laugh, his brows raising in something between delight and surprise. He strides towards you, grinning as you flinch back. “Yer employer seems to think differently.”

Your eyes slide closed as he reaches forward, a finger sweeping a strand of hair from your face to better look at you. You swallow hard as he chuckles, smoke blowing across your face. Teeth grit, you slowly open your eyes, a shuddering exhale leaving your nose as he runs a finger across your cheek.

“He’s a spineless excuse of a man.” You dare to bite back, your voice wavering, but you stand tall. His amused expression has morphed into one of intrigue. His actions falter; hesitation is clear in his demeanour.

“He make ya do things ya don’t wanna do, darlin’?” The outlaw asks, his voice surprisingly genuine. He is still close to you, close enough that you can smell the tobacco on his breath and feel the vibration of each word in his chest.

“Sometimes.” You admit, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze. He curses under his breath, rubbing his jaw in annoyance. Barnes backs off a few paces, putting out his cigarette on one of your sidetables. From your side view of his chiselled face, you see a muscle in his jaw tense.

“Well, sweetheart. I ain’t in the business of bein’ with women who don’t want it.” He says with a roll of his shoulders. He has stalked over to your reading table, bruised knuckles white as he grips the back of your chair.

You are at a momentary loss for words. You had anticipated being repulsed by this man, the one who repeatedly terrorised these lands and enabled his dogs to do what they wanted and take what they pleased. There was something strangely endearing about his care for your consent.

“Well, I am glad to hear it.” You finally uttered. “Can’t say the same for some of your boys, though.”

A tense silence washes over the tent, and you almost immediately regret your words. Against your better judgement, you creep towards him. He doesn’t flinch away from your touch as your hands smooth over the top of his hands and wrists. Beneath you, he feels like stone, each tendon and muscle expertly chiselled like the statues you saw in the big cities back east.

“Yer right. Pack o’ wild mongrels they are. Good for puttin’ folk in their place. I think I’ll get ‘em to pay yer employer a little visit. Remind him whose land he’s on.”

Barnes goes to leave, pulling away from your touch. A wave of horror washes over you at his implication. You find yourself reaching for him again in an unexpected panic. Your hands latch around his bare forearm, tugging him back an inch.

“Wait.” You shake your head, gripping his forearm. The outlaw looks back at you in curiosity.

“I ain’t gonna hurt anyone else, sweetheart. Just him. ” He drawls, eyes darting to where you hold his arm. You drop it immediately, backing off. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“He will think your lesson is because I turned you down or because I wasn’t good enough for you.” You explain desperately. His eyes narrow, as if offended on your behalf. “Whatever you do to him, he will do to me twofold. As punishment. He is a cruel man, you understand?”

“Yer definitely not pleading his case well, darlin’.” There is impatience in his tone and ire that you could not even begin to comprehend. Your eyes flicker to his bruised knuckles, the splatters of blood. If Elkhorn found out, well, you would have to wear a veil for the rest of your life. Your face would be so mishapened and destroyed that you would bring fear into the hearts of anyone who laid eyes upon you. You would no longer be a fortune teller but a featured freak of Elkhorn’s sideshow. Men and women alike would pull faces, with children throwing food and rocks. The deformed woman— another beast in a cage.

You have seen this fate play out too many times. Too many were lost to Elkhorn’s wickedness.

“Please.” You beg. His brow arches and his adams apple bobs.

You swallow nervously, then hesitantly step forward. With gentle hands, you take his forearm once more, guiding him to your reading table. “Just… I will entertain you for a suitable time. I can read your cards. Then, you can tell Mr. Elkhorn that you laid with me; embellish it if you wish.”

Barnes seems too intrigued to protest.

He unbuttons his vest with a soft grunt, taking a seat at the table. His legs are spread wide in a domineering pose as he leans back into the seat with cool confidence. As you take a seat at the opposite end of the table, he reaches into his vest pocket.

“So, how does this work?” He asks. You can tell he is irritated from the way his brow twitches and jaw muscles are still tense. He is playing along for your benefit, you realise. He is looking to you for amusement to stop himself from marching out of the tent and dealing with Elkhorn as promised.

“I will shuffle the cards, then draw three. Each card has meaning, and all together, it will tell you the message you need to hear.” You explain. Barnes had pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. You decline with a wave of your hands, instead taking the cards into your palm. He shrugs, lighting it with a half-interested sigh.

As he inhaled and you shuffled, you noticed his interest lay closer to your exposed skin. Even if he had backed off per your request, it did not seem to stop him from undressing you with his eyes from the opposite side of the table. He seemed emnamoured by the layers of necklaces and how they clinked and rolled across your skin.

As you shuffled, the first card fell out. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip as he watched you work. You slid the escapee card onto the table, facedown on the red tablecloth.

“Anything in particular that you want to hear, hm?” You ask. As you lift your gaze, you find Barnes enraptured by your movements, so much so that he has forgotten to take another drag. “Most people want to know about their careers… their families. Love.”

“I don’t believe in love.” He says, sucking in a breath. You tilt your head. He didn’t believe in love, no. He believed in lust. Desire. From the way his pupils were blown and his lips parted in awe, he was positively eating out of your hand. A second card falls. You slide it next to the first.

“Business it is, then.” You breathe. The final card falls from the deck just as the words leave your lips. You put it in place, then place the stack of the remaining deck to the side. Barnes is transfixed as you lean your arms parallel to the table and tilt forward. “Flip one.”

“Does it matter which order?”

“No.”

With unwavering confidence, he reaches forward, flipping over the first in the row. Your gaze falls downward to view the card, a frown pulling at your lips. You examine the familiar figures on the card. Two figures stood on either side, naked and chained. Behind them, in the darkness, loomed a beast with claws, horns, and wings. The Devil.

How fitting.

Barnes seems to find it ironic as well, as he scoffs in disbelief. “Ya playin’ a trick on me?”

You look up at him. The tension in the small tent is as thick as the smoke that hangs in the air. “No. The cards tell the truth, if you want to hear it or not.”

You reach out, stroking a finger over the card.

“The figures, they are chained. They don’t want to be there, but if you look closely… their chains are loose. They could escape at any moment.” If Barnes had a snarky comment, he does not say. He hung on to your every word. “And the longer they remain, the longer they become more like the devil. He represents the darkness within them, their shadow selves. It is the evil within you—the short-term pleasures—to ignore the long-term pains. Instant gratification. Greed, violence. You think you have free will, but you have sold your soul to the devil.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t already know darlin,” The outlaw says with a chuckle. You notice that his shoulders have relaxed, a cool amusement embodying him.

You hold his gaze. “Next card.”

His fingers brush yours as he flips over the centre card. The King of Pentacles.

“The Devil and now the King? You’re spoilin’ me, sweetheart.” He chuckles.

You eyed the card. The king sat upon his lavish throne, surrounded by wealth. You tap your nail across the yellow pentacle symbol, humming in thought. “King of Pentacles. It represents wealth and abundance. He has influence and is a skilled leader.”

Your head tilts. “It’s a warning.”

“A warnin’? Sounds like a good card to me.”

“The king has all that he wants. An abundance of wealth. Everything he touches turns to gold, like King Midas.”

“King Midas?”

“It’s an old tale. One of caution. About a king who was blessed with the power to turn anything he touched into gold. His kingdom flourished with wealth, but he soon found himself to be unhappy. He could not eat, as any food that touched his lips turned to gold. He could not know the comforts of the flesh, for the women would also turn to gold. Everything he once cherished…gone. Then, one day he lost the one thing he loved most, his daughter. She kissed her father upon his forehead and instantly became a statue of gold.”

“I would be a far richer man if I were this…King Midas.”

“But don’t you see? You are him. You are a king who is flush with wealth; your influence is strong. Your people flourish. Everything you do and everything you touch becomes profit. But at what cost? How much more will you lose? How much more will you give up for greed?” You finger turns to point at the Devil card. His lips are set in a straight line as he scowls at you.

“You best be careful now.” He warns. You shudder, leaning back in your seat, motioning for him to flip the final card.

You stare down at the table, your breath held in horror. The figure in the card sits up in bed, hands to their face in anguish. Decorating the wall behind them are a row of swords, two of which could be seen to be piercing through the figure. Stabbed through the back. The frame of the bed is carved, illustrating two figures fighting. Nine of Swords.

Your mouth feels dry as Barnes peers at you expectantly. “Well?”

You can’t find the words; your brows are scrunching as you try to find the best way to articulate the meaning without triggering the brooding outlaw’s wrath. Your finger taps on the table, and you clear your throat, squirming in your seat.

“Nine of Swords.” You utter quietly. “The figure… they are troubled by their own thoughts. Their worries, speculations… so much so that they manifest it into reality.”

Your fingers trace over the fighting figures. “You worry of a rising conflict.”

You ghost over the swords next. A backstabbing.

It was all very clear to you how it all intertwined. Barnes was a man possessed by evil and greed. He had sacrificed much to accumulate his wealth; like King Midas, he had all the gold he could need, but at what cost? His followers, his people—they were afraid. Weary of their cruel leader. A coup was in the works. Jealousy brewed within his men; all they knew was evil, so all they could give was violence in return.

“A betrayal.” You breathe. Your eyes snap up to meet his. His pupils were no longer blown, instead replaced with an icy rage.

“How do ya know this?” His voice had dropped, low and threatening. His cigarette was discarded, flecks of burning ash glowing across the floor. His shoulders were tensed, straining against the fabric as he began to loom over you, slowly standing from his seat.

You shrunk back. “I don’t, I just read the cards—”

You let out a shriek as Barnes gripped the table, flipping it in one solid motion. The cards fluttered to the ground around you, the glossy paper flickering in the low candle light. You recoiled in your seat, limbs trembling as Barnes stood over you.

“Did Rumlow put you up to this, huh? I know what him and his little pack of vermin have been whisperin’.” He spat on the ground beside you, and you flinched back. Barnes reached down, gripping your throat as he forced you to look up at him.

“I don’t know anythin’. I swear—” You begged, tears prickling at your eyes.

Barnes scanned your face, then released you with a huff. You scrambled away, retreating to the furthest corner of the tent. Barnes waved his hand at you with a sigh, re-buttoning his vest and straightening his shirt.

“I’ll give ya the benefit of the doubt, darlin’. But if I find out you’ve been lyin’...I’ll kill ya myself. Ya understand?”

You nodded wordlessly, whimpering as the outlaw marched out of your tent without a glance back.

—

“Where is she?” The enraged roar of Bucky Barnes sent a nauseating wave of panic through your body.

A couple weeks had past, and Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow were wrapping up their stay. Duke Elkhorn wanted to push further west, bring entertainment to the drivers and rustlers of the far reaches of the country. Within two days, you were set to leave this awful place and flee the clutches of Barnes and his boys.

Well, it seemed that had been hopeful thinking.

You were in your tent, in your personal quarters. You had pulled shut the draperies to allow yourself privacy. The strong men, slick with oil and always sporting toothy grins, were always eager to deliver you water to bathe in. It had become a sort of ritualistic routine of yours to undress and wash the makeup from your face. After hours of sitting in a stuffy tent stinking of incense, it was a relief to wash the smell from your body.

You wore a silk robe, loosely tied at the waist. It had been a gift from a patron back east—some rich city boy who had a fascination with you. When Barnes crashed through your draperies into the back of your tent, chest heaving with a livid look in his eye… you froze. You were perched on a stool before your cracked mirror, pulling a brush through your long locks of hair.

You stumbled to your feet, stool knocked to the ground.

Barnes was covered in blood, his shirt so drenched that it clung to his skin. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his teeth were bared in a growl. The blood was still fresh on his arms and neck, the liquid glinting in the candlelight. He had not bothered to wear his hat; instead, his hair was messy, with a splattering of blood across his cheek.

“I told ya I would kill ya myself.” The outlaw snarled.

You backed away, back meeting the tent wall. “I didn’t do anythin—”

You were cut off as Barnes marched forward, large hands wrapping around your throat. He squeezed tightly, a breathless whimper escaping your mouth.

“How did ya know?” He demanded, his face twisted into a look of rage.

You claw at the front of his shirt, sticky blood coating your palms as you struggle.

“Ya knew about Rumlow. Ya warned me of a betrayal.”

He releases the pressure on your throat, and you meekly gasp in air, nails digging into his shoulder as you try to keep your knees steady.

“I didn’t know, I just said what the cards showed—” You rasp. Barnes doesn’t seem pleased by your answer, jaw muscle ticing.

“I don’t believe in yer magical horseshit. I know it’s all tricks and acts. How did ya know?”

“The cards aren’t magical. Each card has a meaning that can be understood in different ways, it’s my job to apply them to whoever walks into my tent. The cards just reveal thoughts you have not quite spoken aloud—ideas at the back of your mind. They ask you to confront your inner self. You knew Rumlow was a traitor before the cards, you had a suspicion, but you did not act on it until prompted by the cards.” You wheezed out. The outlaw slowly releases your throat, his face controrting into something closer to frustration than rage. Your palms brace flat on his chest as you steady yourself against him.

“Deep down, you already knew he was a traitor.” You reiterate.

“You’re a fuckin’ witch.” He breathes, then runs a hand through his messy hair. Blood streaks across his forehead, clumping his strands of hair. His head tilts as he looks down at you. His face has relaxed, as if a silent clarity had overcome him. “Even if ya deny it… ya did warn me.”

You clear your throat, hand raising to your neck as you brush your fingers over the tender flesh where he had gripped you. “You warned yourself.”

He stares down at you, then frowns guiltily. “Apologies, darlin’. I shouldn’t have done that to ya.”

You believe him.

You hold your breath as his fingers briefly skim over your neck. His gaze falls deeper, his eyes following the curve of your breast that was half-exposed by your robe. The fabric was bunched into a deep v, leaving the swell of your breasts, sternum, and skin down to your belly button exposed. The outlaw sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, then stalks away with a frustrated growl.

“Barnes—” you call to him softly.

“Bucky.” He corrects.

You catch a glance at yourself in the mirror. The silk robe hangs perfectly from your curves, blood smeared across your chest and neck. You suck in your own deep breath, sweeping your hair over your shoulders as you hesitantly approach the outlaw. He paced like the beasts Elkhorn kept caged up, endlessly forced to perform for cruel crowds. You knew what he needed. A delicate touch, a sweetness to lean on.

“Speak to me.” You whisper to him, gentle hands guiding him to the edge of your bed. The canopy was draped with deep purple fabrics, furs, and blankets over the straw mattress. He silently obliges.

“One of my boys, one I thought I could trust. He betrayed me. Thought he could make a little gang of his own and overthrow me from the inside.” The outlaw explains. His voice is stiff, and his posture is tense. You smooth a palm over his forearm, and your thigh presses against his as you sit closely together.

There is a distant look in his eye as he stares past you at the wall of the tent. It shifts with the cool breeze outside, rising and falling like the night itself breathes. “I dealt with it.”

You cock your head to the side, hand running up his arm as you examine his face with a frown. “Dealt with it?”

His eyes snap to yours, and your hand wavers in hesitation. There is a darkness in his eyes. His expression made goosebumps rise across your skin. You could only explain it as something primal, something caught between violence and arousal.

“I made them pay.” He explains, his body twisting as he faces you fully. A bloodied hand raises, his thumb rubbing across your cheek as he cradles your face. “After two days, they begged me to end it. To end their lives.”

“And did you?” You dare to whisper back. His thumb traces inward, across your lower lip.

“No.” He says simply. “I cut out their tongues so they could no longer beg. I made them pay.”

Your eyes must have been wide in shock because he chuckled, his hand sweeping through your hair. Then, with an uncharacteristic softness to his tone, he utters a question. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart thunders in your ears, a short gasp leaving you as your lips part. In all your travels, you have heard stories of women who could make men fall in love with them with just their eyes. Women who used their bodies and seduced their way to the top. Even violent men like Bucky had one weakness—a woman who showed them kindness. A woman who could momentarily take control. The men would let their minds drift away; the burdens were lifted, if only for a night.

Heat pools between your legs. You nod, a hand reaching to stroke across his jaw. The two of you meet in mutual desperation and touch once gentle, now needy. His tongue brushes against your lips, effortlessly parting them as he licks into your mouth. A moan escapes your throat at the taste of his tongue.

Your hands find the front of his shirt, blindly unbuttoning as he grips your hair in one hand. The outlaw groans as his hand slides across your shoulders, pushing away the robe. Your top half is exposed, nipples have hardened, and silk has pooled at your waist.

As your tongues tangle, Bucky tilts his head to gain better access to your mouth. Your gasps meet his as he moans heavily into your mouth. His hands trace along your body, one squeezing your waist and hips, the other coming to grasp your breast.

With a tug, you pull his shirt free. The two of you part, your head lulling back as he paints sloopy, feverish kisses down your neck. A groan rises in your throat as you lean into him, one hand gripping his dark hair and the other beginning to palm him through his pants.

His kisses move further down, head dipping as he licks a stripe across your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, kissing and sucking as you gasp and lean into him. The space between your legs is throbbing; a wet neediness rising.

You clutch his thigh, squirming with desire. The stubble along his jaw prickles your flesh, and a shudder runs down your spine. Your hands find his, easing his grip on your hips as you slide off the bed. Lowering yourself to the floor on your knees, you sit between his legs. Bucky lets out a groan as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown, and his lips are swollen and glossy. Your hands trace up his thighs, and your quick fingers relieve him of his belt.

“Let me.” You hum to him. You tilt your head, your cheek brushing against his knee. His adams apple bobs as he swallows hard. “I can make you feel good.”

You can see his bulge under the fabric. He eagerly helps you pull his pants down, his cock springing free already fully hard. You press a kiss to the tip. His cock twitches in response and a low moan vibrates in his chest. You look up at him through your lashes, biting your lip. He leans back, looking at the tent roof, as his chest rises and falls with a loud, satisfied sigh.

There was a power that resonated in your chest, seeing the outlaw so vulnerable under your touch. He did not protest your lead, instead eagerly following your command. You take him into your mouth slowly, one hand running up his thigh as the other wraps around his length.

You bob your head, feeling him tense with pleasure beneath you. As you come up, you whisper to him quietly. “Relax.”

As your tongue swirls over his tip, then down his broad length, you feel his hips rock beneath you. His hand comes to fist your hair, subtly guiding you as you take him fully into your mouth once more. You follow his needs, taking notice of each pleasured twitch or motion in response to your touch. His fingers tangle in your long locks of hair, tugging as you pull unimaginable, explicit sounds from the outlaw.

“Fuck—” He groans above you, his breath coming in short pants. You hum in response, relishing the sensation of him falling to pieces beneath you. The spot between your legs was slick, and wetness was beginning to drip down your inner thigh. There was a selfish urge within you that desired to reach down between your legs to gift yourself some friction.

You swallowed him down deeper, flattening your tongue against his ridgid length. His hips started to jerk, stronger than the previous gentle rocking. You could feel him growing undone, his breath coming shorter, and his nails desperately digging into your scalp as he desperately tried to guide your head deeper and deeper.

You obliged, but only as you felt his cock twitch once more did you pull away fully. Not yet. You weren’t finished with him yet. The outlaw let out a pained grumble. His hands caressed your shoulders as you rose to your feet.

“Darlin’—” Bucky protests, but you shush him.

“How much do you want me, hm?” You ask him. He has propped himself up onto his elbows to look up at you. His cock was still erect, glistening in the candlelight from your saliva.

“I want you.” He affirms.

“How desperately? Would you get on your knees for me? Beg for me?” You say it breathlessly. You take one of his hands in yours, pressing a kiss to the palm.

His breath stutters. “Yes.”

“Go on then.” As the words leave your mouth, your eyes flicker upwards. You look at him through your lashes.

“Please, sweetheart—” He whines. You cock your head to the side, peppering more kisses along each fingertip.

“Louder.”

“Please.” He begs. You smirk down at him wickedly, shifting closer. Your palm meets his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed as his elbows buckle beneath him.

“Lie back.” You instruct, helping guide his legs so he lies flat along the bed. In one fluid motion, you straddle his waist, his silk robe still pooling around your hips. You lean over him, taking one of the waist straps of your robe. With slow breaths, you move the soft fabric across his bloodied chest, tracing each vein and muscle before finally grazing it across his nipples. He shudders beneath you, his grip bruising where he grasps your hips.

“Say it again.” You breathe. You are embarrassingly wet as you sit perched upon him.

“Please. I need you.” He obeys, and another wave of arousal washes over you. Only now did you give in to your selfish desires, dead rolling back as you ground your hips slowly. Your lips parted, a small mewling moan leaving you as you clenched around nothing. You flatten a hand over his chest, allowing him to help guide you as you raise onto your knees.

With one gentle movement, you lower yourself onto him. Your wet heat engulfs him, and the two of you groan in unison. You feel yourself stretch around him, and you moan as you allow your body to take him in completely. His hands tighten their hold on your waist.

Bucky looks at you with a slightly slack-jawed expression. “Fuck, sweetheart. I think I’m gonna make ya my wife.”

You manage a smile through your own arousal, your hand gliding up and down his chest as you move your hips in a grinding motion. You gasp out a low, “Oh yeah?”

His head tips back with a moan as you clench around him. You experiment momentarily, brows drawn and biting your lip, until you find a grinding rhythm that ignites a fire within you. Bucky meets you halfway, helping guide you with his hands still gripping your hips. Your head lulls forward, small panting gasps leaving you as your eyes squeeze shut.

“I’ll make you beg for that too…Fuck—” You whine, and Bucky chuckles beneath you. He continues to help direct your hips, and your thighs begin to shake as you lower and raise yourself.

A strangled cry leaves you as Bucky’s hand lowers, his thumb circling your clit. Pleasure spikes up your spine, your knees wobbling as you nearly double over at the sensation. His fingers swirl with purpose, pulling all manner of illicit words and sounds from your throat.

“You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky hummed.

Just as you feel like sobbing from the pleasure, you cock your head to the side. With a deep breath, you tug Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him upright to meet you. The two of you clash, breath hot. His arms wrap around you, pinning you to his chest as he kisses you with a primal hunger. You moan into his mouth, your tongue sloppily moving against his as he begins to thrust vigorously.

You could feel your climax building steadily within you, the peak of a tumbling wave that had not yet crested. Bucky was a panting, sweaty mess beneath you. He greedily kissed and sucked along your neck, head dipping as he ran his tongue along your collarbone.

Your own head fell, teeth grazing across his neck. He tastes like salt and copper. You nuzzled your nose against his jaw, taking his earlobe between your teeth. Deep within you, you felt his cock twitch.

You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your fingers tugging at his hair. That pulled a groan from him, the noise vibrating across your skin. With a devious smile pressed against his cheek, you lean in close to his ear. Breath hot, you whisper into his ear.

“Come for me.”

As if he had been waiting for those exact words, he explodes within you. The sensation tips you over the edge, a thundering in your ears defeans you as your eyes roll back into your head. You clench around Bucky tightly, your body milking every last drop of him as he lazily ruts the last of his energy into you.

The two of you pant, catching a breath as you both come to a halt. The outlaw nuzzles your neck with a content sigh, then laughs against your sweaty skin.

“I wasn’t jokin’ earlier.” He finally speaks up, his voice somewhat more dignified now that he wasn’t a moaning mess beneath you.

“Hm?” You respond sleepily, too fucked-out to be bothered opening your eyes.

“I’m gonna steal ya away from here. Make ya my goddamn wife.”

Against your better judgement, you believed him.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel #western au

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art-beyond-the-stars · 6 months ago

Text

The Amazing Digital Virus AU Masterpost

[The Amazing Digital Virus Playlist]

Boundaries

Q: Can I make OCs for the AU? A: Absolutely! I'd be flattered!

Q: Can I make fanfics/fanart? A: Yes!!!! Please please please tag me in it if you do!!!

Q: Can I make NSFW? A: I'd prefer if you didn't, thank you! <3

Q: Can I ship the characters? A: You can do whatever you'd like! But be aware that there are a couple ships that are canon/semi-canon/implied in this AU that may contradict those ships! Specifically, they are Abstragedy (Gangle x Zooble) and Chewtoy (Ragatha x Caine)

Comics

The Void Remember You Rag Dolly

Concept Art

First Look Caine Pomni Gangle Zooble Ragatha Jax Kinger

Portraits

Pomni Gangle Zooble Ragatha Kinger

Lore/Misc Drawings

Zooble v. The Abstracted Zooble v. Caine Ragatha v. NPCs Planning Close Call Asleep on the Job Run, Rabbit, Run Back Already? Breakout They can handle it, right? Short End of the Stick Workout Bubble Jax the Guard Kaufmo? Squimble HE SAW YOU Relic Freak Comedy Mask Do You Remember?

Funnies

Harkness Test (suggestive)

Crossovers!

Freakshow Caine Freakshow Pomni Pomni Pomni Pomni

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jazzyblusnowflake · 9 months ago

Note

I saw your post about your Nuzi headcanons and I have to say THEY ARE ADORABLE!

But it got me thinking, do you have any Vuzi headcanons?

I don't why but I've become obsessed with them in the past while and I wanted to know if you had any ideas for them since you made that incredible Vuzi comic a while back.

oh jeesums, i didn't really expect people to like my HCs enough for it to get over a hundred likes 😭😭😭💕

but yesss id love to take a swing at writing down my subconsciously decided vuzi headcanons too XD so lessee-

Some Vuzi Headcanons i got òvó:

[once again only the drone version ones and as sfw as i can manage lmao sorry asddjfkdfl-]

This version being for AFTER everything is over with and V is ALIVE //or I'm going for Liam's neck personally//- but whether she's with N too or not is for your own interpretation, cuz for ME personally she gets with Uzi AFTER N and Uzi were already a thing together-

Starting a bit similar to the previous HCs, unlike with N, Uzi and V looooooooooooove calling eachother names- ranging from pet names to petty insults, they very hardly call each other their actual names lmao; and Uzi is probably the ONLY person that could get to call V pet names or flirt with her and get away unscathed- V has very little tolerance for anyone else. when actually trying to be intimate or flirty- Uzi loves calling V "Kitty" [cliche i know] and its one of the more acceptable pet names that V allows, but sometimes Uzi goes for pet names to actually make V blush and feel flustered, and those are usually from Uzis more compassionate side since V is allergic to romance apparently 🙄. calling V things like "my pretty", "gorgeous", "you wild thing"- drives V up the wall and she's stuck between wanting to bite Uzi's face off or rip her own off- and likewise when V wants to fluster Uzi she has her own range of heat fueled pet names like "baby bat/batsy", "cutie", "my little snacc"- and overall their job is to try and drive eachother insane lmao. less romantic names on both their sides would be=> [Uzi]: fatty, insufferable nutcase, dumb boob// [V]: shorty, edgy toaster, lil freakshow- and etc etc. TLDR: names.... they call eachother alot of names. that's it lmao.

They have a more avoidant relationship, where N and Uzi would seek comfort in one another, Uzi and V realize when the other isn't feeling well they need space to let off steam and trust one another enough that the other will come to them when they are ready. this isn't the most perfect way to deal with things given they are usually on a time crunch and need to get over their traumas quickly, but in the end they both know they are there for eachother when it matters the most.

teasing.... they do alot of that- although one would argue that V is the only one winning here 😭. V would not let the subject of Uzi being short go- if there's any moment that she could make the joke, she will not let the opportunity pass- anything relating to flustering or embarrassing Uzi absolutely goes- its not uncommon for N to walk in on the two fighting while V is just laughing and cooing at the other that she's just a cute lil baby while Uzi is trying her best to strangle the other without actually harming her. but then Uzi says that V is just a big dumb boob cuz that's all she could see from her pov and N is desperately trying to keep himself from laughing in the background-

V loves picking up Uzi.... that's it... she would never admit it out loud, but holding Uzi up, whether on her back or holding her from the front and feeling Uzi cling to her for support gives her immense internal joy, even if she doesn't show it in her expression. she often prefers picking Uzi up when they make out and this works in both their favors too cuz Uzi loves being taller lmao.

V wouldn't admit it but she is terrified of Uzi getting angry. like actually, genuinely, furiously LIVID level of angry Uzi is enough to make V curl her tail between her legs and just step away slowly. and Uzi.... when Uzi is mad, she talks sickeningly sweet to V. that's how V knows its time to fucking RUN or PERISH.

V is a lot more traumatized than N from Cyn's influence. during her comatosed state she can still vividly remember all the things Cyn had done to her in her mindspace, the same way N got to see all of his own mangled bodies in his own headspace, but unlike N she remembered all of it, hence why she turned into a neurological murder bot. So while she is with the others shes often scared opening up emotionally, and to fix this Uzi tries to force her for some cuddle times. don't get me wrong sometimes both N and Uzi have to literally WRESTLE V til she no longer has energy to fight back just to drag her in the cuddle pile. she usually doesn't talk much and even more rarely breaks down into crying but she's secretly grateful of having Uzi to sometimes force her into things she should do more often in order to heal, and one of those is learning to trust again.

V and Uzi have sparring sessions every now and then- tho sometimes V fights dirty- if you catch my drift lmao- and Uzi is weak for that shit, sadly 😔 Uzi finds herself contemplating her life choices when V is constantly giving her new kinks to consider smhhhh. it doesnt help that V doesnt treat Uzi as weak or breakable, she goes all out and Uzi is thankful to her about it. tho N would not touch this particular catfight between two wild ladies with a 100ft pole- [which would probably be the distance he's standing and watching from...just in case...]

funny enough most of their arguments end with makeout sessions. N cant tell if this is their way of flirting from the start or their way of making up after a fight....

V is secretly protective of Uzi, not interfering when Uzi is dealing with someone but standing a few steps behind her, brandishing her claws just in case, to send an obvious message.

V is absolutely rough when trying to be intimate. Uzi needs lots of energy to heal from bite marks but they always make sure the other is comfortable about it. but when Uzi is soft and gentle with her and focuses on being reassuring and loving towards her, V's a flustered incoherent mess-

despite being the more avoidant one, V is usually the one who initiates any intimacy- [mostly because Uzi is too short or busy or embarrassed to do so 🙄] and when she gets needy, Uzi feels internally giddy as though a cat has chosen her or something-

Uzi likes to ask V sometimes of any HAPPY memories she had back at the mansion.

OKAY- damn that was LOOOOOONG- hope these are good enough- i had a lot of fun writing them :D

once again, left out any nsfw hcs 😇 enjoy the dumpster fire lesbiams-

i also tried my best to leave out the N x Uzi x V headcanons so it would seem more specifically for Vuzi :"3

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation v #serial designation n #vuzi #nuziv #vuzin #violetviolence #violentbitingbiscuits #snowballflo #snow rambles #took 3 hours this time #i love writing but DAMN it takes so much time smhhh

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maxwell-grant · 1 year ago

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Any thoughts on AKI in SF6?

I haven't had a chance to play the game yet and I might do a more thorough look into the newcomers after I do sit through World Tour, but yeah I got some AKI thoughts. Holy shit what a design. Top 15-20 in the series, it is one hell of a different thing to watch it animated by the character's personality and moveset and vibe. We expected some FANG-isms, some Juri-isms, but certainly not that. We expected a cold, even generic assassin, not someone who merrily treats the penal code like a list of chores.

It was pretty funny seeing the reaction to her develop from "oh she's FANG's apprentice, okay I guess, not sure anyone was asking for that", to "is she the new Juri, she's got a really similar vibe", to "holy shit Juri's got NOTHING on her". In reaction to her popularity, SF6 had been doing a lot of great character work on Juri that, while making her much more developed and entertaining as a character (cringe failgirl Juri was such a revelation) and dramatically more interesting as a person, also really limits the extent to which she can be a straight-up villain anymore. Much like how FANG was designed to fill the void left by Sagat, AKI here crashed the scene to fill the void left by Juri, and so she gets to be not just completely 100% horrible (where as Juri is like, 70-80% horrible), but also SCARY in a way Juri never could be. She gets so, so much out of not being designed for sex appeal and coolness first and foremost, she's like the D'Vorah to Juri's Mileena.

She's a horrible, predatory character, and much like Marisa, I don't think she would have been allowed at all to exist the way she does had she debuted prior (you just know they would have not given her those sick ass pants or given her a different haircut or a cleavage window or something stupid like that). The development team for V repeteadly stated that there were ideas for a new assassin apprentice character related to Gen thrown around and that some of those made their way into FANG and Seth, and AKI is the end result of that very long refinement process. She's the resident freakshow character in the tradition started by Blanka and Dhalsim, and she's the outrageous over-the-top counterpoint to the more traditional martial arts like Chun-Li or even Jamie (much like Adon, or Necro). She's the understudy of the kung fu assassin villain, and in a way akin to Menat she's the young new apprentice of a prior character who acts as a stand-in for that character on the roster and driven to prove her worth before said character, while also being a modern do-over of said character.

(And for the record I actually like FANG quite a bit, a lot more than most of the other V characters. He played like garbage and his execution was lacking and couldn't make up for a terrible first impression in the fanbase, but the design and character and concept I thought were very solid and I'm glad AKI shows they didn't give up on it but took steps to improve on it, I'm glad to see him again in 6).

She breaks new ground for the series by leaning strongly into a horror wraith vibe no other character had before, and she's the Street Fighter equivalent to characters like Voldo, a horrible contortionist slasher villain who doesn't fight you so much as she just passionately and exquisitely butchers you while getting off on it. Her moves are incredible, superbly characterized, she feels vicious and oppressive to watch but still hits that note on FANG's where the playstyle is meant to be tricky but overspecialized and beatable at close range. And while she's designed to be a much more explicitly serious and deadly-looking character than FANG, they even give her goofy little flourishes like blowing bubbles shaped like FANG (and getting pissed if you pop them), his propensity for bird-like arms flapping, and an uncharacteristically childish victory dance akin to Chun-Li's.

She is as cadaverous as Juri is tempestuous, openly referring to herself as a ghost, and when she isn't losing her shit in contorting fits of laughter over success, she has a remarkably chill, upbeat disposition when spouting horrible things to the protagonist or fake poisoning them for laughs. She has an incredibly distinct personality more so than any especially developed inner life, and that's kinda the point: that she has wholly and completely sublimated herself to her role as FANG's tool, by choice and intent of her own, and that's part of why she's a real deal villain.

She was raised by him, she likes what he likes, she is obsessed with everything he is and has done and will do, hates everyone that isn't him, considers him her master and teacher and father and husband all in one, and her romantic fixation and love for him is meant to be deeply disturbing in every way imaginable (and only not a total dealbreaker for me because FANG in no way reciprocates or encourages it or is able to do so, even AKI understands as much), and that they may eventually have to kill each other doesn't deter her one bit.

Despite those surface similarities, there is quite a lot that sets AKI apart from Juri, chief of those being that Juri was victimized by Shadaloo and in response fashioned herself into an instrument of vengeance and turned monstrous as a result, where as AKI actively chose her life and chose being molded by someone else, running away from home and following FANG every step of the way without any regret. Even FANG himself had little choice in his own life, kidnapped as a child and forced to partake in horrible training under which every day could be his last, raised to value nothing but survival at all costs.

Perhaps this in itself is the strength that FANG saw in AKI, that she gets to choose and does so with far greater intent than even himself. That she's someone who could fully understand the horribleness of the Nguuhao methods and lifestyle and want for that and nothing else, to consciously partake in such grueling torture of mind and body and lovingly decide that she can't get enough of it.

And in itself this pairs interestingly with the very idea of giving FANG a dedicated protege sidekick, a character beat that the series has come back to again and again, and takes on an entirely different tone here. I think a lot of what makes AKI's obsession interesting to me in a way these usually aren't, is not just because it's creepy, but because it's ultimately sad and pathetic, and parallels FANG's own craven worship of Bison. It's such a great dynamic, a miserable cycle perpetuated by miserable people caught on the wrong side of that glorification of self-improvement, inner strength and the great heroes and masters who can pass it onto others that the series uses so frequently, and it makes AKI even greater as a character for it: because now we have a true dark mirror for the driving motivation of many of our characters. We have our fucked-up toxic counterpart to every Sakura, Mika, Menat, and Sean out there.

She sees him as he saw Bison and more, and the fact that she is much more threatening and overtly competent and scary than FANG is offset by the fact that worshipping Bison is a wholly different thing than worshipping, y'know, FANG. We comprehend, on some level, FANG's worship, because M.Bison is supposed to be, at minimum, a cool imposing megavillain we're meant to like on some level, which is certainly not true for FANG. SF6 has been very clear on that, that even though he's been given a much slicker outfit, and is keeping a low profile to plot from behind the scenes, this is still very much FANG, every bit the conniving, petty control freak from before.

AKI is a cool, hypercompetent death machine able to scare the pants off the main villain, and she labors desperately day and night, to the point of crying if she fails, to meet the approval of a ridiculous, pathetic man who, no matter how deceptively cunning or dangerous he may be, is only cool to her. Much of why I think FANG worked and was necessary in the first place was because he was designed around the vacuum left by the Four Kings and to contrast them, as what kind of man would it take to work himself ragged running Bison's schemes and being unfailingly loyal to him and Shadaloo, opposite Vega and Balrog's sporadic barely-there alliances and Sagat's outright betrayal. We needed an anti-Sagat, a proper bastard of a Number 2 to run the show in secret. And AKI adds a lot of poignancy to that in that she is much of what FANG can't be, even as she wants nothing more than to be like him.

It's one thing to have somebody who really looks up to and makes an effort to imitate the cool and impressive and heroic World Warriors, or someone influenced by imposing villains like Balrog or Sagat but ultimately decides to carve their own path. It's another thing entirely for maybe THE most obsessive protege character in the series, someone who actively has no identity outside of servitude to her master, to revolve around FANG, the dastardly bird man, who made his debut in a story by hunting down and melting an innocent woman, and grossly and animastically licking her ashen remains off his fingers. What kind of person would decide that this sickening, vile creep is deserving of worship and following until the ends of the Earth?

(art by @remy2fang)

Well, maybe the same kind of person who would consciously look at the likes of M.Bison in the first place, someone they intuitively understand "will reign death on all living beings", and upends their life on the spot towards becoming that man's eternal servant. Someone who seeks self-fulfillment through no other means than the pursuit of strength and knowledge as tools to subjugate others and appease their master. The darkest corruption of the master-student dynamic that defines so much of the series. You couldn't ask for anything more fitting, for the poison specialists.

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