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strawbabysimp · 3 years

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Loving Dominance || Sub!Illumi x Reader

Genre: Smut

Category: Sub!Illumi x Fem!Dom!Reader

Warning(s): Handjobs, Vaginal Sex, Unsafe Sex, Praise, Pet Names, Mommy Kink

Request(s): "Can I request smut for Illumi with fem SO who likes to be a soft dom and is very gentle and attentive with him? 👉👈 Thank you luv!♡"

"you should do illumi with a mommy kink 🤩 and how are you doing? 💕"

A/N: I really wanted to combine these two requests to show a more sensitive side of Illumi~ I hope that's okay with you both💕

You woke to a small movement coming from beneath you, your clothed chest pressed softly against your boyfriend's as you woke up from your rest. It had been a tiring day for the both of you, Illumi having gotten home from a short yet tedious job and you having to deal with his more unresponsive than usual self left you a bit drained. You didn't mind taking care of the boy, in fact, you cherished his allowance, but it still took its toll on you.

You didn't bring this up though, only shifting yourself slightly so that you were peering up at him. His eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling blankly in a way that would have left you disconcerted if you weren't already used to it. The only thing that bothered you was the reason why he was doing such a thing. He usually slept through the night, only disturbed when there was an unfamiliar sound or disturbance so this was peculiar.

"Illumi," you called out in a quiet voice as you tried not to disturb the calm atmosphere of the room. He turned his head towards you, already sensing you were awake. "You okay?" Your voice was cautious and you noted the way his body was tensed up underneath yours, not having noticed it in your former sleep-hazed state, but you had quickly snapped out of it upon seeing him upset.

You squirmed to get a better view of his face and in the process, he flinched away. Your movements halted. You felt your chest tightened at his reaction, not faulting him for it but your worry did rise. Detangling your legs from his you sat up beside the assassin. He mirrored your movements while consciously keeping his body from touching yours.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke, "I'm sorry that I woke you." He was still getting used to phrasing what he wanted to say especially when in such an intimate place as your bedroom, his eyes bore into yours emotionless and it was moments like this where you wished you could read him better.

"I just need a moment. You can go back to sleep now."

You ignored his words and moved to sit up straighter, pulling the sheet closer to yourself by doing so. The strain in the fabric had it clinging tighter to Illumi's figure. You couldn't help but glance down at his lap for a moment, your eyes drawn to what must have been the problem. He was hard. His unmistakable arousal looking uncomfortable as it moved against the sheets.

"I'm not supposed to bother you when you're resting," he explained clearly. You could sense the slight guilt coming off of his usually maintained aura.

A small smile graced your face at knowing it wasn't something too serious. "Illumi, that's what I'm here for," you cooed at the man before you, "if you need me then I'm here. Simple."

He nodded as he allowed his limbs to relax slightly, looking up at you with a hesitant gaze. You slid in closer to him with your smile still in place. This time he didn't move away. Moving your hand up to lightly graze over his thigh, not yet coming in contact with the source of his discomfort but making your intentions clear.

"Do you want me to help you, Illu?"

He nodded.

"Baby," you moved your other hand to press against his cheek, "You have to use your words for me okay? What do you want?" His hips moved forward slightly before he finally voiced his needs. "I want you to touch me."

Still not good enough. You spoke again. "Where do you want me to touch you, hmm?" Your fingertips drew circles on his lower thigh, trailing up to his hip bone and back in a coaxing gesture. "Please touch my cock," he muttered in the same shy voice he always did when talking in such a lewd way.

The more you continued your ministrations the more noise spilled from your lover's mouth. Even his moans sounded angelic, smooth, and breathy, perfectly fitting for the eldest Zoldyck boy. You allowed your hand to take on a slow and steady pace, sliding your thumb across his cock head every few strokes just to hear his unsteady breathe that urged you on even more.

"You do sound so sweet Illumi," you praised from above him, his glassy eyes paired with the slight flush to his cheeks were a welcome sight and you felt privileged to be able to see this side of him. "I wish you would let me hear you more often." Another soft whine left him as you ran your thumb over the leaking tip once again.

As his breathing began to grow heavier and his gaze shifts around trying to gain awareness, you slowed your pace slightly. "Look at me," you gently prodded, the hand that was once on his thigh coming up to thumb for his cheek. "You're fine," yours whispers calmed his frantic gaze slightly, "I'll watch out for you. Relax." You set your lips tenderly against his, the slow tongue-less kiss calming his nerves as your hand regained its previous speed.

You pulled away from the kiss, choosing to travel down his jaw to give him a small break from the action so he could focus on simply feeling the pleasure as you took care of things for him. You started to suck lightly at the soft skin, lapping over the tender spot found just above his collarbone. You could feel just when the tension started to seep from his body, tenderly muttering praises into the soft skin as you did so. Your mouth left a trail of purple marks as Illumi arched into your adoring touch.

Your hand lowered further to lightly fondle his balls, easing away from his cock before stopping your ministrations altogether. Illumi stared back at you with wide eyes, his need sounding through the air with a disappointed whine.

You dropped a chaste kiss to his shoulder and made quick to reassure him that you weren't stopping, "Shhh... I'll take care of you." Your leg swung over him, successfully straddling the man before you as you look at his appearance from the new angle.

His fingertips grabbed firmly onto your shirt, pleading silently as he pulled on the fabric covering your body. He ground himself against you needily, begging you to remove your clothes and allow him to see more of you.

"Do you like looking at me Illumi?" You asked tentatively. His eyes shined up at you as he hummed in agreement. Without another moment you quickly stripped yourself of your last remaining garment, you never wore much to bed since the room was always a comforting cool temperature and Illumi was usually beside you to keep you warm.

He struggled to sit up more, holding onto your hips with a force that had no right being as adorable as it was. You could feel his hardness press against you in earnest but he didn't move against you just yet. Instead, the Zoldyck pressed your chests together, resting his head against your collarbone as you roamed your fingers through his hair comfortingly. Unable to ignore the arousal yourself, you began to rock into him slowly. He was cautious of his strength as he rests his palms against you, not wanting to hurt you as you cared for him so gently.

As his soft breaths turned more intense with your movements and the pressure against your chest rose with his added weight you pulled his upper body away from you. "Use your words? What do you want?" The question hung in the air for a moment as he worked through his phrasing.

"I want you to touch me more."

Fingers played with the ends of his hair as your hands fell from his scalp. Asking once again, "How do you want me to touch you, baby?" The pet name seemed to ease him into his headspace even more before he answered, "I want to fuck you?"

His words brought a bigger smile to your face as you pressed a kiss against his forehead. You were proud of how far he had come with expressing his wants and you weren't going to hide that from him. "Okay, we can do that."

You ground yourself against him, the material of the shirt no longer creating a thin layer between the two of you. His precum coated your core as you lifted yourself, conscious of how his body shuttered beneath yours whenever his skin came even slightly in contact with your own.

"P-please," the assassin begged, "Please I need you." The words were slow yet filled with bliss, stuttering slightly as he tried to word himself correctly.

"You've been such a good boy for me Illumi. You deserve a treat."

His head titled cutely as he stared up at you, his hands traveling to your waist as his nails grazed the skin found there. Before he could question what you meant, you clarified with your body. Sinking onto his length in one quick motion, you felt so deliciously full. Your mind blanked for a second, eyes shutting as you allowed yourself to adjust to his size. You could hear him whine in the back of your mind, no doubt restraining himself from thrusting against you from how needy he had become.

After a moment you looked down at the glistening-eyed boy in front of you, bringing your thumb to your lips before gently wiping away a stray tear that had spilled from his waterline. You ground your hips against him experimentally, gaging his reaction as your walls squeezed him reflexively. Your walls squeezed reflexively when you ground yourself against him once again, finding a steady momentum as you rode the deliciously submissive boy beneath you.

You steadied your body with a firm grip on the headboard, the slap of skin against skin sounding throughout the room as you yourself struggled to maintain eye contact. The feeling of him filling you up so well was overwhelming and soon after you picked up the pace something far sweeter than any amount of times he hit that sweet spot in you occurred.

"Mommy," Illumi whined as his hair began to stick to his hairline as he got closer to his climax. He only used that title when he was especially wrecked and you knew the sight of him mouthing the affection-ridden word was a privilege no other got to experience.

"Spit it out baby," you encouraged your boyfriend, "Tell Mommy what you want." His whines increased as he struggled to get it out but you trusted in the fact he would tell you if it was too much. "I want to come Mommy. Please, c-can I come? Will you let me come?"

You smiled softly at his request. You were happy to give him what he wanted and you told him just that.

"It hurts," he said, too lost in the blissful torture of being on the edge of his orgasm brought him to be self-conscious about the words leaving his trembling lips. You leaned forward to press a gentle kiss against his lips, reassuring him that he'd be just fine and you'd let him come soon. As you pulled away he quickly scrambled after you, arms holding you tighter than before as his head fell against your shoulder. You could feel his body shake slightly and you allowed yourself to fuck yourself on him as your own need to became too great, confident that he'd come soon no matter what you did.

The feeling of him throbbing inside of you, slowly bringing him to over stimulation as you did nothing to slow your movements, was what quickly brought you over the edge. You tightened around him, shaky breathe sounding between you as it was almost too much for him.

It always took you a moment to get your breath back but once you did you we're sure to give him the praise he deserved.

"You were such a good boy for Mommy."

You felt wetness against your neck but the way he hugged you gently let you know that he was okay as long as he had you there and it would always be that way.

#Smut #Illumi #Illumi Smut #Illumi x Reader #Sub!Illumi #Sub Illumi #Hunter x Hunter #HxH #Anime #Illumi Zoldyck

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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You, Me, and Him | (dark)Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: the worst thing about the man who did this to you is that he’s convinced he isn’t the one who did this to you (or, brainscrambled bucky decides to keep the gift that the winter soldier left for him)

word count: 4k

warnings: smut (noncon), yandere-ish themes, stalking, kidnapping, very unstable/erratic bucky, slapping, creampie kink, praise

When you opened your eyes, you wondered why your room looked so strange. What possible angle could you be looking at your ceiling from that it would be like this?

However, when you turned your head, you suddenly realized that you were not in your room at all. The next thing you realized was that your hands were restrained— shackled, specifically, and suspended above your head. Obviously, this realization shot ice-cold terror through your veins as you began to try to understand how you’d gotten here. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember going to sleep in your room: no, you’d been out shopping, in the middle of the afternoon. Why couldn’t you remember anything after that?

Your head spun when a door nearby opened, and the man that awaited on the other side brought it all back.

He was following me. I tried to lose him, I turned a corner, but he was right there— and there was a syringe in his hand… and he must have—

“Oh my god,” the man gasped, “shit— are you okay?”

You stared at him in confusion, already starting to cry as you put two and two together about all this. Generally, only one thing happened after a man drugged a woman and chained her to a wall. The part that didn’t add up was the terror on his face as he rushed to you and knelt down in front of where you were lying— why was he worried about you?

“Oh no, oh nonononono,” he whimpered, mostly to himself, “oh god, I didn’t— this wasn’t… oh fuck.”

“Please let me go,” you started to plead between sobs, “I don’t know what you want, but I don’t have any money… I’ll give you whatever I have, I won’t tell anyone, just let me go, please—”

“No, no, no,” he shook his head quickly. Either he wasn’t listening (bad) or he was denying your request (worse) and both possibilities just made you cry harder. He, meanwhile, was rocking back and forth in front of you, covering his ears with his hands to muffle your cries. “Oh god, what have I done, what have I done— what did I do?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimpered.

“No, no, I won’t— I would never do that…” he sighed. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

You squinted as you tried to make out what that meant, sniffling as your crying subsided a little (mainly from being distracted by the confusion of it all). “Do I… know you?”

He chuckled a little, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Uh, no, not really, I’m— my name is Bucky,” he explained, “I— you might have seen me on the news, but that wasn’t really me, that was this other guy—”

“Why did you do this to me?” you interrupted.

“No, see, that’s the thing: I didn’t do this to you. It was… it was somebody else. He’s… he’s in my head, and every once in a while he takes control and sort of does his own thing…”

Not that anybody who kidnaps somebody is totally right in the head, but this guy is certifiable.

“And he did this to you. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay,” he assured you, though it wasn’t comforting at all, “I’m not gonna hurt you, I would never— I won’t do that, okay? I’m just gonna… I’m gonna let you go.”

You sighed with relief, although some voice in the back of your head told you not to trust him just because he seemed regretful. Regardless of his strange excuses, this was still the man who kidnapped you.

“You don’t believe me,” he realized with an awkward smile. “It’s okay, I understand. I wouldn’t believe me either— god, I must sound crazy, right? But I’m not crazy. I don’t think…”

This time your sigh was less relief and more irritation.

“See, I was, uh, tortured. Experimented on. That was a long time ago, and I’m mostly over it, but this other guy— he’s a soldier. I guess I am, too, but he’s… more on the war crimes side of things. Like, assassinations and stuff. That’s a whole other story…”

I think I’d prefer to hear that one.

“Anyways, sometimes I get sort of… messed up? Up here?” he gestured to his head, leaning back to sit on the floor in front of you with crossed legs. “Like, I can’t tell what year it is or how long it’s been since I’ve slept. My psychiatrist says I’m ‘losing time’ and that it’s normal for people with… whatever it is that I have. But it’s scary, you know? Because I don’t know what I’ve done in that time. So today, I woke up and had no idea how I got where I was—”

Same.

“And I came down here and… you’re here. I didn’t… I didn’t do this, I can’t stress that enough.”

“So… this other guy…” you tried to understand, hoping that appealing to his twisted sense of logic would get him to tell you something actually useful, “he did this?” Bucky nodded. “Does he do this often?”

“What, kidnap women? No this is… this is new. As far as I know.”

“Why me?”

“Uh…” he stalled, looking away. “God, this is sort of embarrassing, but… it’s probably because I sort of have this, um, crush on you…”

“You don’t even know me,” you mumbled.

“No, you don’t know me, but I… I know you,” he nodded confidently. “Do you remember a few months ago when you went to that art gallery by your apartment? It was raining that day, I couldn’t tell for sure if you came in to look at the art or if you were just trying to get out of the weather but, anyways, you had on this big puffy coat— ‘cause it was cold out— and you took off your hood and you just looked around… I saw you, cause I was in there to look at the art, too, and you looked so beautiful.”

You were getting anxious. He said he would let you go but he hadn’t really made any progress on that goal.

“And I sort of followed you after that, and watched you— I mean, that sounds really bad, it wasn’t like that, I just… I just wanted to make sure you were safe and—”

“Let me go, Bucky, please,” you interrupted, getting more desperate.

He shook his head with a sigh. “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry… I just haven’t had anyone to talk to… you’re a good listener.”

Yeah, everybody’s a good listener when they’re tied up and forced to listen.

“Just let me finish my story and I’ll let you go. I was kind of in the middle of something. You know, it’s rude to interrupt people.”

Oh fuck. You’d angered him. It was subtle, but he was clearly irritated; he looked at the floor, and his jaw tightened a little. It must have been that this candid talk made you forget he was unstable and that you needed to tread lightly. You couldn’t afford another mistake like that.

“I’m sorry, Bucky, finish your story,” you offered.

“Okay,” he nodded, “well, anyways, when you came into the gallery you looked around for a while but there was one painting you kept looking at— do you remember it?”

You shook your head.

“Really? You must’ve stared at it for half an hour. I swear I saw you tearing up a bit,” he smiled. “Clearly it had an effect on you. I wasn’t sure if you were considering buying it, or if it would make you upset to see it in your house every day, but the way you looked at it… it changed everything for me. You smiled at me as you left, just a quick glance— I’m not offended that you don’t remember me just from that, if anything it’s good because it made it a lot easier to trail you, but… I knew then that you were such a kind, soulful person.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “I remember… I remember that.”

It was so cold out that the rain was nearly frozen. You’d gone in to escape the elements, but one painting drew you in. Someone else was there, a man that you remembered thinking was attractive but a little eerie with the way he just stood there, seemingly even more purposeless than you. He smiled at you as you left, and you smiled back. You were just trying to be friendly. No good deed, though, right?

“Do you remember the painting?” he asked again, leaning in a little closer with innocent hope sparkling in his eyes.

“Yes,” you nodded, “it was… it was a woman, and she was looking away from the viewer, out over the water. She looked sad, but determined, like she was thinking about something impossible to describe.”

He smiled wide then, apparently impressed by your description. “Look,” was all he said as he pointed to the wall beside you— and as you turned your head, you gasped as you saw it: it was the painting, even more hauntingly beautiful than you remembered. You started to cry again, because somehow it was this show of disturbed affection that made you more sure than ever that you weren’t going to get out of here.

“Don’t be scared,” he soothed, moving closer again and wiping the tears from your face gently. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“Please let me go,” you whispered shakily, looking back at him, straight into his eyes, as if maybe you could find some sanity there to appeal to.

He frowned a little as he pulled back, bringing his thumb to his lips to chew the nail nervously as he thought. “See, here’s the thing…”

“Bucky, please—”

“I don’t think I can do that,” he sighed.

“Please,” you cried, the word starting to lose all meaning as you just fought to be able to speak past the force of your sobs, “please, please—”

“You could tell somebody— and I know it wasn’t me, but the police aren’t gonna care about that. I always have to take the heat for what he does… and I would just rather not go to prison.”

“I won’t, Bucky,” you feverishly defended, “I wouldn’t tell, I swear— we’re friends! Friends don’t tell on each other—”

He interrupted you as he grabbed you by your shirt suddenly, pulling you towards him as you recoiled. “I don’t have friends,” he growled.

“We… we could be friends,” you offered weakly. “I could be your friend. Do you… do you want to be my friend?”

He studied your face, the gaze of his bright blue eyes burning through you instantly. “I can’t say that I do.”

You whimpered as he leaned in closer, taking a deep breath right against the side of your face.

“You smell so good,” he whispered, his left hand— bionic metal, much to your horror— reaching up to trace over your face and hold you close to him. “We aren’t friends, silly; we’re soulmates.”

You shivered, gut sinking as you closed your eyes and thought there might still be a chance it was all a horrible dream. This isn’t happening to me, this isn’t happening to me, this can’t be happening to me—

“Hey!” he yelled, slapping you on the face suddenly. “Keep your eyes open!”

You cried but tried to do as he asked, knowing it would only be so much worse if you didn’t do whatever he wanted.

“The point is, even if you didn’t tell, letting you go just isn’t… economical for me,” he explained. “‘Cause the truth is, even though I didn’t want to kidnap you, right now I wanna… I wanna keep you.”

He didn’t even let you start crying hard again before he cradled your face in his hands, refusing to let you turn away.

“No, baby, it’s okay— it’s gonna be good!” he promised. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Please, Bucky, don’t do this,” you sobbed.

“Shh, shh, don’t you get it? He did this to help me— he knew I couldn’t do it alone, ‘cause I was too afraid to talk to you, but he brought you to me, and now I’m gonna make you understand how good we are for each other.”

He scooted closer, his hands rubbing your legs through your jeans as you cried silently.

“And that’s why he didn’t touch you,” he continued. “He just left you for me, cause he knows you’re— you’re mine.”

He kissed you suddenly, and it was awkward and sloppy against your unwilling lips. His tongue eventually managed to force your mouth open, exploring and filling it as you struggled and failed to turn away. His hand on your jaw was almost tight enough to choke you, a looming threat of what awaited if you didn’t kiss him back. You couldn’t exactly put much passion into it but you tried your best.

He was smiling when he leaned back and broke away from you, still holding your face and seeming almost proud— of you or himself, you weren’t sure.

“You are so perfect,” he praised quietly. “I can’t believe I finally have you… god, it’s like a dream come true.”

Or a nightmare, you responded internally.

You jumped when he pulled the knife out from a holster on his belt.

“Oh, this? I won’t hurt you with it— so long as you stay still,” he explained gently as he leaned forward and started to cut off your shirt while you tried desperately not to shake.

He looked at you with the reverence of a man at the altar as he tore the shreds of your clothes away, cutting slowly until you were just in your bra and panties.

"Stop," you whispered, but it was so quiet he must not have heard you— or he just didn't care. He gingerly slipped the knife between your bra and your chest, tugging out to snap it off.

He took a breath to steady himself; he seemed nearly as nervous as you, just in an entirely different way.

"Baby," he mumbled under his breath, "god, I just wanna do everything to you."

It was hard not to tense up when he said that, or when he brought the knife between your legs to cut off your underwear, but you willed yourself not to shiver because you really weren't ready to lose anything important if his hand slipped.

With them cut and tossed aside, you forced your eyes shut— because you couldn't stop him from seeing you, but at least you didn't have to watch. As your legs instinctively closed, he gently guided them back open, metal fingers cold on your skin but flesh ones unbearably warm.

“You have such a nice body, I don’t know why you hide it in those baggy clothes,” he chuckled as he ran his hands over your skin. “I watched you shower a few times, you know, and I saw you look at yourself in the mirror before you got in…"

You opened your eyes, but he wasn't looking at your face, instead taking a long moment to take in everything else.

"You looked like you were disappointed," he continued, "but— but you’re beautiful, and you should know that. You need somebody to tell you that.”

You felt your face heating up even though you should be horrified, not flattered. To be fair, it was a bit of both.

“Do you think I’m, you know, handsome?” he asked awkwardly, glancing up to your face again. “People used to say that about me, a long time ago. Are you… attracted to me?”

You shook your head, lying.

“Then why are you so wet?” he sing-songed with a mocking grin, thick fingers spreading your lower lips and gathering the arousal they found there. You whimpered when he brought those fingers to his lips and sucked them hungrily. “Fuck, you taste incredible— I mean, I knew you would, but wow, this is so much better than just smelling those panties he stole.”

You shivered with disgust, realizing that he was responsible for the pair you thought were lost in the laundry.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that,” he laughed. “Yeah, it was his idea and all, I didn’t do anything but… I’ll tell you a little secret,” he smirked as he leaned in, right against your ear, whispering: “I got off with them, and on them, and it felt soooo good…”

He quickly pulled his cock out of his trousers as you started to struggle against the chains again, getting a quick glimpse before looking away as you wondered how he could possibly fit that in you.

“Do you like knowing that? Do you like knowing I stroked my cock and thought about you? I imagined you were laying under me, begging me to fuck you… and now you’re here, and it’s real, and it’s gonna be wonderful.”

You gasped as he suddenly pushed in, trying not to react but knowing he was watching your face intently and saw it all. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, “you’re so tight, god, I knew you’d be perfect…”

You cried as he started moving inside you, holding your hips steady and filling you completely until it actually hurt to be stretched so wide. You were sure nothing had ever been so deep inside you, and it was making your whole body jolt with each thrust.

“Does it feel good? Do you like my cock in you?” he asked— but it didn’t sound like dirty talk, it sounded like he was genuinely asking.

You shook your head, lying again.

“What if I do this?” he offered, reaching down and circling a calloused thumb over your clit. Your back arched into his touch, and he grinned proudly. “See, doesn’t that make it better? I bet I can make you come.”

One final lie for the night, you shook your head.

"Oh, doll," he soothed, kissing away a tear that had trailed down your cheek, "it's okay… it's okay to like it. You don't need to pretend."

He reached down and pressed his hand into your lower belly, making you winced as he applied pressure until it took everything you had not to scream.

"Feel that?" he cooed. "I can feel it. We're finally together, baby, you never have to be alone again… isn't it incredible?"

Sobbing, your back began to arch up against the wall you were chained to. With his hand pushing on you, it was impossible to ignore the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot— hard enough that your entire body shook with each thrust. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, and not just because you’d never been kidnapped before. As he leaned down to suck on your neck hard enough to leave a mark, it was hard not to feel like he was claiming every part of your body all at once. You bit down on your lip, afraid to moan too loud, but he heard the muffled noises and pulled up to tut at you disapprovingly.

“Don’t do that,” he frowned, “I wanna hear everything, pretty girl. I wanna hear you beg for me.”

You whined as you tried to resist it, but getting railed like this made you want to do whatever he told you to.

“Come on, baby,” he encouraged sweetly, “just let go, I know you want to…”

It was bubbling up in your chest faster than you could stop it, each cry louder than the last until you couldn’t hold back anymore. “Bucky!” you shrieked, hating yourself as you heard him laugh happily right by your ear.

“Oh I know, I’m right here, doll,” he soothed gently, holding you tightly; your hands wiggled inside their shackles, and you shamefully realized that you were craving to wrap your arms around him, run your fingers through his hair. The desire to push him away was lost to the need to reach your peak. “Say my name just like that when you come on my cock, sweetheart.”

Your walls were already convulsing and you were moaning so loud you thought you might lose your voice. Pleasure built up faster than you could comprehend, and so intensely that little black dots were dancing on your vision.

Oh god yes, right there, don’t stop, yes, you would’ve cried out were it anyone else doing this to you. Instead all you could do was whimper his name, somewhere between begging for more and begging for mercy.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, I can feel you coming for me— you’re so good, so fucking good,” he groaned, “I’m close already, can you believe it? I should slow down, so I can make you come again, but you feel too good, I can’t stop.”

Most of that was lost to you, though, because everything had gone numb and fuzzy in the wake of your orgasm, your body limp in his grasp. The way he pulled your hips into his made you feel used, like a— well, like a doll, fittingly.

“Oh god, babygirl— can I come inside?” he asked gently, but when you weakly shook your head, he just smiled. “It’s gonna feel so good to fill you up.”

Before you could make it clear that you were saying no, he leaned forward and kissed you— aggressive and rough as he started to breathe deeply and moan against you. You kicked your legs to try to get him away but all you could do was uselessly scrape your feet against the floor. You could feel him pulsing inside you, growling against your lips until suddenly warmth began to paint your walls. Whimpering, you slouched limply as the fight left you.

“Oh my god, angel,” he sighed, pulling back and smiling as he traced his thumb over your face, following the path of a fresh tear, “that was… you’re incredible. I’ve never come like that, you feel so fucking amazing.”

He kissed you again, gentler and slower than before.

“Is it weird that I don’t wanna pull out?” he asked just louder than a whisper, chuckling as his nose brushed against yours. It was like this guy thought he was in a Hallmark Christmas movie while you were in a Lifetime thriller. “I could just stay inside you forever… but I won’t.”

He watched in awe as his hips pulled back and his softening cock slipped out of you. Your face burned with shame as you felt a gush of his come (and yours) leak from you.

“Wow, look at that,” he mumbled weakly. “Can you push it out, baby? I wanna see how good I filled this pretty pussy.”

It made you feel disgusting, but you summoned the last of your strength to do as he asked, unable to see the results but watching him stare between your legs and bite his lip.

“Fuck, babygirl, that’s… that’s fucking gorgeous. I stretched you out pretty good, and you’re all swollen…”

Strange enough, he pulled you into a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re so perfect, sweetheart… my pretty little doll.” When he pulled back a bit, he moved a stray hair that had stuck to the sheen of sweat on your face, admiring you with a small smile. “God, I can’t believe you’re finally all mine. Guess he was lookin’ out for me, bringing you here. I oughta thank him, somehow.”

He must have known what you were imagining by the way you tensed up, and he laughed softly.

“Don’t worry, baby, I won’t let him touch you. I won’t let anyone touch you but me. Now let’s get you out of these chains and into a hot bath, how’s that sound?”

Weakly nodding, you let your eyes fall shut as he reached up to unlock the metal cuffs around your wrists. Holding your hands in his, he softly kissed the marks left there from when you’d still been fighting, before finally scooping you up into his arms. He didn’t struggle at all to lift you, and you were too exhausted to notice the way you were leaning into his chest as you dozed off.

You dreamt that you were looking out over still water, contemplative but determined, before falling right in.

#dark!bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes non con #yandere!bucky barnes

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ultimateluckystudent-writes · 3 years

Text

Restraint

Summary: You and Nagito's flirtations are sickening. Izuru still sees himself as a cure. As per usual, he only makes things worse.

Word count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: Uneven Power Dynamics, Under-Negotiated Kink, Possible Dubcon, Dom/Sub, Spanking, Bondage, Choking, Mentions of Sickness, Degradation, Slut Shaming, Sex As 'Punishment', Slight Breeding Kink, Orgasm Denial, Female Reader, She/Her Pronouns

General Themes/Tags: Despair!Era, Despair!Reader, Sub!Reader, Sub!Nagito, Dom!Izuru, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism

Ao3 Link

A/N: Reader is a slut and Komaeda's a freak what can I say... also I'm sorry for doing this before requests but no I'm not I'm busy writing smut <3

Izuru found that there was indeed a certain kind of beauty to the handiwork of his knots. The candy-apple red rope, the color of the ruined sky, the color of his chemically altered eyes, the color of her nails, the color of despair, looked rather fetching when tied around Nagito’s pale wrists. His green-blue veins ran under it, visible through his sickly, translucent pale skin. Izuru could smell the cancerous cells on his breath alone. Just like a dog! A voice in his head that sounded just like hers sounded. Just like a dog, his own voice repeated.

“Enoshima tells me that your… indecision and cowardice..." Izuru droned as he circled around the uncomfortable, between the wooden chair Nagito was bound to and the edge of bed (Y/N) sat on. Unlike the rest of the ‘rooms’ the rest of the Despair were afforded in their base, which were really much more like modified holding cells, Izuru’s room was fitted with a regular queen-sized bed with threadbare sheets. He didn’t mind the sheets, but he wouldn’t have minded staying in a holding cell like the rest of them either. He wouldn’t have minded any of it.

“Has affected the operations of all of the Despair.” He glowered down at them, the shadows on his face looming even darker from their seated positions. Izuru caught her hands fidgeting in her lap, and how Nagito’s ever-twitching leg began to bounce even faster. “How pathetic.” He said of both their actions and reactions. The woman flinched visibly. Nagito’s leg stilled. “You are both acting like children. Simpering after each other expends so much of your time that you’ve managed to become even more useless to us than before as you fail to complete assigned tasks.” He crossed the room to stand right in front of (Y/N). Though all of his steps were light- in the way only the Ultimate Assassin, or Spy, or Ninja, and or the countless other multitudes of titles he fit aptly could be- or rather, perhaps because of this, both of their throats bobbed with a heavy swallow.

“Therefore,” His voice was quiet, but in the otherwise silent room, his two captives could hear him clearly. He placed his hand on her cheek. It was such a foreign movement from him, so calm, so sudden, that she almost gasped from it alone. It was much warmer than she expected. She realized as he stood over her, his well-fitted suit accentuating the already sharp angles of his perfect posture, his clothes heavy with the smoky scent of the fires blazing outside, his eyes indecipherable, that he was so much warmer than she expected. He thought idly that he could name every muscle in her face that tensed under his fingers. “You have been left to my discretion.”

“Ah, of course!” Nagito finally gushed, breaking the tension between the other two at once. Both of their heads snapped to look at the shaking, beaming man. He seemed to be enamoured with simply the prospect. His arms twitched and pulled at his bonds, but he had no intention of attempting escape. He merely forgot in his excitement that he could not hold himself. “I see no fate fitting more for my dearest- to be left to the hands of the Ultimate Hope- to be graced with Kamukura-sama’s presence, his touch-” He uttered a little moan, his eyes fluttering for just a bit. “For him to have already tied me up like the pathetic little vermin I am… He could truly do as he wishes with us...” Nobody in the room was surprised at his reaction, however, (Y/N) was a bit amused that he had shown his true colors as a fanatic quite so quickly. “Whatever despair he induces can only be overcome by the hope you two inspire by nearly being around me!” His eyes finally seemed to focus back onto his lover. They seemed to warm just by looking at her, a detail that sent an unfamiliar rush through her. If he had looked at her before, she had only just noticed, and was still unused to such… vulnerability nowadays. She quickly looked away. “I can only imagine what you must be feeli-”

“Enough.” Izuru finally snapped. Nagito silenced at once. He immediately schooled his expression into one of subtle pleasure. His naturally heavy-lidded eyes seemed almost heated in the particular situation. “This inane drivel is precisely the sorts of issues we’ve been having,” Izuru finally brought up his other hand, which contained an identical rope to the one wrapped around Nagito’s wrist like the perfect present. “And you’ve done little to end it.”

(Y/N) found that she had trouble looking at the red of Izuru’s eyes or the rope in his hands. Both cultivated more of the sickening feeling in her gut, the overwhelming dread that conjured images of Izuru idly pressing his foot down onto her fingers holding the edge of a cliff, supporting both her and Nagito’s weight. It felt like bile rising in her throat, only creeping further as she caught glances of either. As Izuru held the rope in front of her face, a wordless taunt, she refused to break her gaze. She wanted to rot in the feeling.

“Turn.” Izuru ordered. She knew at once it would be the first of many tonight. Though she had watched Izuru carefully as he bound Nagito, it was nothing compared to how despair-inducing it was to feel her miniscule chances of escaping reduce to less than nothing. Her breathing grew heavier as she felt those sure hands tie one knot, then two, then three, until she purposefully lost count of how many loops there were around her wrists. Every time his knuckles brushed against her arms, her pulse points, she wondered more and more if it was truly an accident. She had never known the Ultimate Hope to be capable of accidents. When he finished, the silence rang heavy in her ears. She had foolishly half-expected to hear praise, to hear the words ‘good girl’ fall from his lips.

“Pathetic.” He repeated instead, sending both her and Nagito’s teeth deeper into their own lips. She felt it deeply, kneeling on the bed, her back to the man she knew held her life in his hands, the man she cared for so deeply privy to every little thing that would be done to her without being able to do anything. The feeling in her stomach had begun to sink lower and lower, though it felt much more heated. She was a fool, but not a naive one. Izuru always knew what he was doing, including what tone he was setting. She felt her own legs begin to shake. “I’m sure by now the two of you understand where this is going. Bend over.”

She obliged like it was second nature. She obeyed like it might as well have been her own thoughts asking. She bent over and stuck her ass up and face into the mattress, right in front of Izuru, with a speed that surprised most of the room. Izuru, however, remained unfazed. He almost seemed to expect it. Her whole body felt hot, displayed like this for Izuru and subsequently Nagito. She knew he could see her panties he could see below her short skirt. She’d taken to wearing much skimpier clothes recently, especially when she began her… affair with Nagito. Despite herself, she wondered if he enjoyed them. He wouldn’t have been the first. She liked it when it was hard for people to touch her without coming in contact with her skin.

“Let this serve as a reminder to the both of you.” Izuru said behind her. She wondered how much closer he’d have to get to feel the vibrations of his deep voice. “None of you have any room for affection in you. You wouldn’t be with our association if you could. You saw how easily she bent over for me. You’re nothing special, Komaeda, she would take it from anyone if she could.” He paused. She didn’t even get to wonder why before her head was grabbed and roughly turned to the side so she was looking directly at Komaeda. His face was flushing, beginning to turn the red color of so many things around him, giving into the situation. Though his mouth was slightly agape as he took the scene before him, he seemed to be at a complete loss for words. She’d never seen him like this before. “Do you see how aroused he is at this? How eager he was for me? He’s much the same. You two are, for lack of a better word, whores. Easy-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence, as both of the other two released small moans at his words. (Y/N) thighs clenched as she tried her hardest not to back her eager body back up against him. Nagito rocked his own back and forth, attempting to find friction against his growing erection. Izuru sighed. “Precisely.”

With no other warning, he shoved her panties down her hips. A string of her slick connected them for just a second, quickly severed with no regard from Izuru. Nagito stopped rocking. He stared, mouth agape, at her now exposed pussy. She couldn’t even tell him to stop looking. She didn’t want him to stop looking. Behind her, she heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling. Once again, instinct took over, and she spread her legs further for him. The fabric of his pants and underwear rustled as he pulled them down just enough to pull his cock out and stroke it.

“Wow.” Nagito muttered, looking all for the world like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow- t- to bear witness to this- to-”

“You will speak only when spoken to from here on out, Komaeda.” Izuru said without even looking up at him. Nagito swallowed hard. Behind his chair, he pulled ever so slightly at his restraints. Izuru rubbed the head of his cock up and down her lips, spreading her slick around. (Y/N)’s head finally dropped back down, looking away from Nagito, as she tried hard to not let any more noises escape her. Even if she knew Izuru could feel her desperate arousal in her heavy breathing, the way she wiggled and pressed into him, her fingers trembling in front of him, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting it consciously escape her mouth.

“Be honest, (L/N)...” Izuru’s words were so gentle and soft that she knew at once that whatever sharp insult he would throw at her would make up for it. “Tell Komaeda about every Remnant’s cock and fingers you’ve had in your pussy.” She gasped at once, her eyes widening, but as the focus fell heavy on what she would say next, denial escaped hers. She could feel Komaeda’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t even bring herself to look into his eyes. Guilt and shame that she had never felt about her previous dalliances before were searing in her stomach. “Not to mention the people you’ve taken on the outside.” All the while, his cock continued to move back and forth over her hole, never pressing any further. Teasing her, seeing how much she could take. “How many?” He asked rhetorically. “Two dozen? More?”

The enticing idea that it was Izuru’s cock didn’t escape her. It was one of the many details that had made her so wet so quickly. She couldn’t believe that someone so singularly powerful and superhuman was even giving her thought. She couldn’t believe that he had taken the time to notice how big of a slut she was. Nagito wasn’t alone in his obsession with Izuru, she was merely better at hiding it.

“What does it matter?” She spat. A cruel smirk that only Nagito could see crossed her face. “Angry they got to me before you d-” She was interrupted as Izuru’s swift hand came down to firmly squeeze the sides of her throat, literally choking her on her words. Her labored, raspy breathing echoed through the room at once. Next to them, Nagito whimpered, but continued to bite his tongue. Under furrowed brows, his eyes flicked quickly between Izuru’s unyielding face and his hand around her throat. Nonetheless, his smile remained on his face.

“You’re actually less insufferable when you’re just moaning.” Izuru noted. Her eyes rolled back into her head, but she couldn’t do much else. The press of those sure hands was incessant. “I might begin to see why you seem so eager to be reduced to that state so often.” He lowered his mouth by her ear, but his voice was just loud enough to let Nagito hear. “I wouldn’t recommend boring or annoying me. We wouldn’t want me to push you too far past your limits, would we?” His vice-like grip only tightened. Though she could still breathe a bit, every second he held her was a second she became closer and closer to melting like putty in his hands. Beside them, Nagito groaned, deep in his throat, at the idea of pushing her past her limits. Too many thoughts were beginning to swirl in his head, and not having anything or anyone touching him to quell it was only making it worse. Kamukura finally released her. She took a deep breath in and coughed a bit. Izuru’s focus went back to her now soaking pussy.

“Now, as I was saying, the only difference between Komaeda and all of your previous conquests is how… inexperienced he is. That, and his crumbling mental state, means he’s developed quite an obsession with you. Isn’t that right, Komaeda?”

“Yes!” Komaeda practically barked, words bursting out of him like a damn. “Yes, yes, I would devote my body to her so willingly- she’s extraordinary, the- the idea of touching her? The idea of her wanting me,” he rambled, drool finally beginning to spill out of his lips in his practically cross-eyed fervor. His chest heaved with his panting. “Oh, it fills me with such an incredible feeling!” He cried. “I selfishly desire her every day, every moment-”

“Enough.” Izuru sighed. Nagito’s lips couldn’t even shut this time. He moaned once more at the sight and his ideas, hips rocking quickly. “You like the attention. It shows. Look how easy it is for me to take her.” At once, his cock stopped teasing her, and finally sunk in. She yelped loudly at the sudden, intense feeling as Izuru quickly and completely filled her. Her walls squeezed around him, beckoning him to stay as his cock kissed the deepest parts of her. Between the look on her face and Izuru’s hands on his lover’s hips, Nagito couldn’t contain himself anymore.

“What an amazing opportunity this is! What a once-in-a-lifetime chance,” he panted. “To watch hope himself and my love together so intimately… ah, you must think I’m so perverted.” Despite his tone, Nagito’s face remained stuck in a blissed out expression, belaying his enjoyment at his self-degradation. “To be enjoying this so… I’m filthy...” He moaned. There was a pause, for just a moment. His tone changed slightly, but it so happened that Nagito was trapped in a room with the only two people in the world who would be able to tell. “Though… some might call it perverted for you to be doing this at all, Kamukura-sama.”

“Are you... insulting me, Komaeda?” Though he didn’t look back over at Nagito, Izuru punctuated his words with his first thrusts into (Y/N). Her noises were muffled by the mattress, and though the tension in the room eased a bit with it, it still hung heavily above her head between the two men.

“Lowly scum like me? Insult you? I would never dream of it, Kamukura-sama.” Nagito smiled cheerfully. Despite his words, the look that he gave Izuru was not with his usual reverence. Izuru’s own eyes narrowed, rolling the emphasis on his words over in his head. With no other words, Izuru’s hands gripped (Y/N)’s hips tighter until the whites of his knuckles were visible and he was sure there would be bruises the next morning.

"Let me make myself clear. This is only for my relief." He punctuated his words with a particularly rough, deep thrust. A broken keen spilled forth as he bottomed her out. "Both from the constant whining and drivel from the two of you... but yes, also sexually." He tangled his hand in her hair. "Unfortunately, my body is that of a teenager’s. It... is filled with hormones that make my body want to breed." He pulled a bit on her hair. She moaned gutturally, fighting with herself to arch into and out of the feeling. His eyes flicked up to meet Komaeda's. "Komaeda, you would not believe how... exquisite she feels... how warm and inviting she is..." Izuru’s lip twitched into the ghost of a smirk. Nagito didn't miss it, he didn’t miss anything. His eyes eagerly drank in every detail of the two of them entwined.

"St- stop talking about m- me like I'm n- not here." She managed, gasping around every other word. Izuru hummed, like he was considering her words, before shoving her head back down harshly into the mattress. His other hand came down in a ruthless slap to her ass, making her gasp, both for air and in surprise. Her hands clenched around nothing behind her back.

"I've got no need to differentiate how I talk to your face from behind your back." Though his face did not change, his tone held a bit of smugness. It was the only indication that what had left her a panting, moaning mess had any effect on him, besides the slight dampness to his brow. "And this is not so much about you as it is about Komaeda." Once more, his tone carried more of his annoyance than usual. "He is incessant. Obsessive. Possessive. And over all a hindrance to the operations of the Despair in his pathetic desire. I was hoping tonight would see a folly to that… but he’s as worked up over you as ever.”

For a second, (Y/N) and Nagito caught each other’s eyes. Arousal that made her clit throb washed through her as she took in the look in his eye. She had never known Nagito to be possessive, as Izuru had claimed. In fact, he often turned down situations that might lead to being in her presence, citing that she deserved better. However, the completely captivated and hungry look would have made anyone feel like they were his. Even without his words or touch, she felt marked as his. Her noises grew even louder. The pride in his eyes, like she was a beloved toy he was showing off, was almost too much.

Izuru didn’t miss this. All at once, he stopped moving, though he was still buried deep inside her. She whined wordlessly, causing him to deliver another hard slap to her ass. She whimpered quietly at it, clenching around his cock, but said nothing else.

“If you’d like to look at each other so badly, so be it.” His voice was even angrier now. If she didn’t know any better, she would say that it almost sounded like Izuru was growing frustrated with the two of them. She couldn’t tell why though. Izuru finally removed his tie and jacket. Most of his clothes remained on, as the motion was not taxing to him in the slightest, but he felt a bit hot under the collar now. He figured it had to do with her body heat. She was very warm.

He pulled out of her and wordlessly picked her up to turn her and face her towards Nagito. She silently thanked the fact that her hands were tied up for once, since it meant it would be hard to pick her head up and look at him constantly. But as Izuru sunk into her once more, one hand gripped the rope binding her hands and the other her shoulder. He leaned down to speak to her.

“Seems you’re lucky as well.” He murmured to her. Her eyes were wide in surprise. Even as Izuru spoke to her, both of their gazes remained fixated on Nagito. She could feel his hot breath on the shell of her ear. It made her shiver as he held her close. “I’m not so bored I feel the need to hold you by the hair.” He considered her for a moment. Her hands were pressed up against his firm stomach. He felt so solid and tall and imposing behind her. Though he was ruthless and unforgiving in his motions, she also knew he could have done much, much worse had he wanted to. The way he took control of her so quickly, so unquestionably so, was what she had been craving from someone every time she had been with someone else.

She finally realized what he was doing. He was showing both of them that she didn’t need to seek another person to give her what she wanted- didn’t need to seek Nagito to give her what she wanted- because he, and only he, could give it to her.

At once, Izuru picked up speed again. She cried out, her fingers scrabbling at the buttons of his shirt, pulling him close, pulling him closer. The sudden roughness made her cry out, the noises broken by each slam of his hips against hers. She could feel the smooth fabric of his pants, still on him, every time he buried himself in her. His hair began to fall down from behind her, brushing her shoulders and sides, tickling her with their silky softness. For a moment, the mischievous thought of pulling it crossed her mind, before she remembered once more that she was tied up at his mercy.

Her eyes focused on Nagito. He was moaning and mumbling to himself, looking lovestruck and animalistic with his wild eyes and hair. She couldn’t quite hear him over her own noises and Izuru’s breathing by her ear. He was leaning forward as much as he could, taking everything in raptly. She could see his erection pressing hard against his jeans, but he seemed to have completely forgotten about it, at least for a bit.

“Fuck!” She hissed, shutting her eyes tight just to get a bit of respite from the onslaught of pleasure she’d been feeling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck yes!”

“Make use of that mouth without foul language. Tell me, is this pleasurable to you?” Izuru asked, but the gentle, dangerous voice he was affecting was strained now. She squeezed her thighs together, in an unconscious attempt to receive friction on her clit, but she was rewarded instead with a quiet moan from Izuru.

“Y- Yes, Kamukura-sama!” You nodded weakly. In the greatest surprise of your night, you heard him laugh for just a second behind you. Quietly, more of a snicker than anything, but a laugh nonetheless. It was a low, smug noise.

“Mmm. Now admit to both of us, that even with me fucking you right now, you’d rather have Komaeda’s cock.” He demanded, making Nagito’s hips jerk up. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes! It- It is!” You longed desperately to reach out to Nagito, just to feel him, just to touch him, but you were beginning to understand the true reason Izuru had tied both of your hands behind your back.

“Then say it.”

“I’d rather have your cock, Komae- ah- Komaeda-kun!” She practically shouted. Izuru began slamming into her harder when she’d gotten to saying Komaeda’s name. The irony didn’t escape her, that although it was Nagito’s name she was crying, it was Izuru that was making her feel that way. Nagito was always hard to read, but although she couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking about, he was enamoured nonetheless.

“I think we’re well past the point of formalities, (Y/N).” Her first name sounded heavenly on his lips. “Go ahead and try again.”

“I want y- you, Nagito!”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Nagito was panting and squirming almost more than she was. It seemed he’d found a rhythm grinding up against his own pants and thighs. His eyes rolled up. “A- again, please, please, please!” He begged, knowing that he was taking a risk by speaking once more. She opened her mouth, but all that fell from it was a squeal as Izuru spanked her with the hand previously holding the rope.

“I made myself clear, Nagito.” Izuru practically purred as he spanked her again and again. She jumped with every one, but she loved the sting regardless. Each one made her feel a little more used, a little more worthless as anything but a toy for the two men. Nagito didn’t like seeing her hurting, but it pleased something deeply sadistic in him, and he wasn’t the one doing it. The friction was barely enough, but he was getting close.

“I- Izuru! Please, please, please…” She pleaded, beginning to rock herself back against his cock sloppily, not in time with his thrusts.

“Hold still.” He practically growled, smacking her once more before digging his fingers back into her waist. She almost couldn’t take it anymore.

“Izuru, please, my- my clit- please, please!”

“Would you like me to touch you properly so you can finish?” Izuru practically purred. She nodded, noises like sobs escaping her mouth. Izuru laughed once more. The hand on her shoulders let go, sending her falling back into the mattress, before he was gathering her hair and pulling her head up once more. “Stupid little girl. You really thought I had no punishment in store for you?” He continued to slam into her, leaving her too mindless to even respond. He was all-encompassing- she could smell him, feel him around and in her, hear only his voice- but all she could see was Nagito, practically on the edge of his seat, getting off to her abuse. “You really think you’re going to cum? How pathetic. You two are suited for each other. If you’re going to cum you’re going to cum from my cock alone. But as much of a dumb slut as you are, I don’t really think you can do that, so you’ll just take it while I finish inside you. After all, my body still wants you bred.”

“W- Wait!” You choked out. Although the smallest part of you that still retained thought worried about what he was saying, the louder part had flooded with a fresh wave of pleasure and arousal at his words. He made no move to pause, but you didn’t have anything else to say. In front of you, you could tell Nagito was close as well, beginning to heave breaths that sounded like laughs. He was sweating, heated by the jacket he was still wearing, but it seemed like the least of his concerns. His noises were high, breathy, and pleading. More than anything he wanted to touch, to feel anything but the confines of his own jeans, but instead he watched helplessly as another man threatened to finish inside his beloved.

Izuru finally began making quiet grunts of his own right in her ear. They were deep and animalistic, something she never thought she would hear from Izuru. However, as he began nearing his edge, his noises only grew more similar in desperation to that of the other two. For just a moment, all three could be heard finding their own pleasure, before Nagito threw his head back with a sobbing noise and climaxed first, emptying into his own underwear. He wished desperately that he was the one in her, even alongside Izuru.

The other two now took their own turn watching Nagito as he finished, their eyes focused on his trembling, his white locks falling back, the way he rutted into the air in his desperation. Izuru’s orgasm took even him by surprise as he watched, and he seated himself in her fully with a loud groan as he filled her up even more. Her noises now sounded broken and pathetic, pleasure overriding her thought process as she let him empty within her without fuss. When he was sure the last of it was inside her, he finally pulled out and set her carefully down on the bed. She didn’t even complain about the loss, since she could still feel his seed dripping out of her twitching core.

She felt his hands on her wrists, which she had grown accustomed to, before realizing that he was undoing his knots. In a couple of tugs, his work came undone, and he laid the rope down next to her. She still couldn’t find the energy to sit up. He then moved around her and to Nagito, still recovering from his own orgasm. Nagito smiled weakly at him. Izuru took Nagito’s hair into his hands, but didn’t pull.

“Clean me up.” He ordered. Nagito seemed shocked, but didn’t waste time. He wrapped his lips around Izuru’s cock, still slick with his cum and her natural lubricant, and began to lick it clean. He moaned and his eyes fluttered shut like it was the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted. Izuru’s nose wrinkled a bit from overstimulation. Nagito’s pink lips moved back and forth hypnotically over Izuru, until finally, he tugged him off with a ‘pop’. He nodded curtly, and tucked himself back away in his pants. Nagito licked his lips, from which drool had begun to escape him again. Izuru moved behind the chair and undid Nagito’s knots before going to redress in his tie and jacket. “Clean up your mess.”

He turned slightly away from the two, listening as Nagito quickly got to the bed, he assumed to tend to her. He looked back when he finished, realizing she was moaning once more. Instead of attempting to help her sit up or speaking to her, Nagito was kneeling between her legs, lips around her pussy, eyes dutifully closed and hands behind his back. Izuru quickly leaned over and grabbed Nagito by the collar of his shirt, pulling him away from his task.

“I told you she’s not to cum.” Izuru growled. “You’ve already gone against my wishes by finishing yourself-”

“My sincerest apologies, Kamu- Izuru.” Nagito’s head was bowed respectfully. “I truly meant only to help put your seed back into her.” His eyes flicked up to meet Izuru’s. They were not filled with the subservience his posture suggested, but instead flickered with his own machinations. “Who better to be filled with your cum than her? The despair of breeding her during such a time means nothing compared to the hope your progeny would bring! If I’m blessed with the taste of the aftermath of your intimate act in the process... well, that’s just my luck.” He practically giggled. “I suppose I’d merely gotten used to not using my hands.” Despite his mad words, Izuru expected something of the sort from him. He sighed, and let go of his collar.

“I’m leaving now. I expect not to see either of you in my room when I return. Let this be the last time we must have this… discussion.” Izuru said, making his way to the door. “Next time,” He paused in the frame. “I won’t be so kind.” With one last nod to the two of them, he shut the door behind him.

*****

A/N: I'm not sorry, except that this is my first time writing something like this w/ three characters so I know it jumps around a lot but eh here you are! Love, love

#nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #nagito x reader #izuru x reader #danganronpa #dr2 #restraint #bunnywrites

159 notes · View notes

satanwritesfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Title: Cicero lives to serve

Ship: Cicero x f!reader

Triggers: only smut and the absolute cringe I experienced by proofreading

Characters: Cicero, f!reader

Wordcount: 1922

a/n: idk man, hope you enjoy the den of iniquity-

***

Bodies against one another, gasps, moans.. a piece you'd not exactly voice as the thoughts turn in tune with the hand desperately working between your legs.

You had pictured him, as inappropriate as it may have been, it wasn't the first time either. You pictured him behind you this time, hand locked into your hair and using your body as he wished. He would pull you flush against him and whisper obscene things against your skin before biting down and you'd cry out.

These thoughts would on occasion bleed over into reality as you'd audibly voiced your frustrations and ecstasy, being away from the sanctuary so much, it has never quite been an issue, just something that brought a heat to your cheeks when you had been coherent enough to notice it.

You knew you made the mistake again and listened for any sound but nothing seemed amiss as your body froze and then, you continued, thoughts of his hand on your bare body, pushing and pulling and bruising in the most delicious way.

And then everything was brought back. "Cicero lives to serve." The voice came from outside your illusions and you froze, eyes shot open in fear as it went to the source.

You hadn't been dressed exactly decent with only the covers to hide some of your bare body. No doubts of what you were doing, hand almost knuckle deep within your warmth. You were flushed, heat burning on your cheeks, searing almost.

He smiled but you were unsure if it was his usual demeanor or a new grin at your predicament. Presumably caught with your most inner thoughts of him on the table, exposed.

You removed your hand from you and pulled the covers to at least cover some parts of you that were on display. "I'm sorry, Cicero, I didn't mean to-"

You were at a loss of words but luckily you didn't have to give more as Cicero spoke again. "Oh no no no, Listener. No apologies needed for dear Cicero. " He stalked closer and in this moment you felt like prey as his eyes were trained on you. "Cicero lives to serve." He repeated the phrase. "Listener should've told Cicero, Cicero is more than happy to help."

He leaned over, placing a chaste kiss to your lips and grinned. "Cicero will make it right, Cicero will take care of you."

This time when your lips met it was all fire, hand curling around your middle and pulling you to him as he hovered over your body. Your arms locked around his neck, barely processing as barely covered legs rested at the side of his hips.

He broke the kiss and for a moment he looked down at you, face unreadable and then he placed an open mouthed kiss to your bare neck and then your collarbone, pulling the cover from your body to reveal your breasts. Hands cupped your breasts harshly, a tongue flicking over the left bud while fingers teased the other, the tip of his jester hat tickling your skin as he moved. Sensation not of your own making, making you gasp into the night air.

Your eyes flicked to the ceiling as he moved lower, covers removed from your body and exposed to him completely. This couldn't be happening, it was too good to be real and still, you were terrified of your own actions.

"Cicero has a question for the lisener." He hummed, your thoughts were jolted back to reality as he spoke. "Did listener think of Cicero like this, between the listener's legs."

When his tongue made contact you gasped for air, him licking a line through your folds while he held your hips down. His eyes were trained on you and then he pulled away slightly.

"Answer the question." He spoke but it felt less like a command than the words would suggest.

"Yes." You said, cheeks burning as a hand clasped over your mouth as if it would stop the confession from reaching his ears.

"Then Cicero has something to live up to, hmm?" His lips closed around your clit, he sucked softly and then flicked with his tongue. He removed his one hand that had a vice grip on your hip and placed it at your entrance, pushing a single digit in slowly and watching your body give way to the new sensation when he pumped leisurely within you.

He added another finger and then another, pumping into you as his tongue played with your clit. Not long before it all came together and snapped, your cunt convulsing against his fingers that were still pumping slowly inside you as the world came back to you.

When he pulled away he licked his fingers clean, sitting on his knees while you were sprawled out on the bed, breathing heavy. You bare as the day you were born and him still fully clothed including the now slightly crooked jester hat with a certain hardness pressing against his pants just below his abdomen.

You bit your lip as you got onto your knees, hands working to rid him of his shirt. You were shaking a bit to which he wrapped a hand softly over yours to halt your actions. You looked up at his eyes and he wasn't grinning anymore. There was a faint smile but it was a look you couldn't decipher. Your heart pounded against your chest as you wondered about the reason he would stop your actions. Perhaps this was just serving your needs and nothing beyond the duties he has for the Brotherhood and your title as listener.

Your mind recoiled, feelings clashing against each other inside you. Pleasure and pain mixing into something toxic until the reason for him stopping presumably reared its head as he quickly rid himself of the jester jacket.

Your mind slightly agape as you were faced with skin you had never seen before, a chest covered in scars from his past as an assassin and from a time more recent when you had refused to take his life.

Your fingers softly ran across the lines on his chest, muscle and scars alike, and he allowed you that moment. If not for you then certainly for himself. It had been a very long time since someone had seen so much of him nevermind touched him so delicately, furthermore, that person was you, his listener.

Cicero had been so taken by you, the intelligence and strength. Someone to be feared and admired, it was an odd throught to him that everyone didn't praise the ground you walked on like he would. You were all these apposing qualities meshed together into something otherworldly. Strong but soft, killer instinct but caring... Perfect.

You looked into his eyes, pressing your bare body against his as you kissed him deeply. Unsure hands rested on your hips and then experimentally roamed your back until a hand tangled into your hair giving him the ability to keep you flush to him as your body rocked softly against his with the motion of your lips working against each other.

He broke the kiss but still held you close to him. Your hands moved towards the pants he was still wearing to which he pushed you closer to him to halt your actions.

His eyes closed momentarily and from this close you could see the clench of his jaw. It was a few moments before he looked back at you. "Is the listener sure this is what the listener wants?" His voice was less high and a bit cracked at the end.

You nodded and he let go of the hold he had on you only to push you back against the bed. He quickly rid himself of his boots and then the rest of his clothing including the jester hat. He hovered over you, nothing in between the two of you now, bare as the day you were born.

He pressed a kiss to your lips. You felt something blunt press against your core and then his hips moved, running his cock up and down your folds as he groaned softly. The slight friction was electrifying but not quite hitting the spot.

"Cicero.." you pleaded, voice barely above a whisper.

"Tell me what my listener wants. " He purred, placing a few open mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

"Please.. " you breathed, eyes closed as different sensations teased you but was just short of enough. "I need you inside me."

A grin spread across his lips and he pressed another kiss to your temple before fiddling between your legs, taking hold of his cock and lining up to your entrance. He pressed slowly, cautiously filling you up. You bit into your palm as your body gave way to the new sensation, a slight sting but not unpleasantly so.

"Cicero wondered.." he breathed as his hips slowly moved in and out as your body gave way. "What it would... Oh, be like... thoughts don't compare.. to this. Close.. So tight.. wet."

His thrusts turned sharp, body screaming with each thrust of his hips, filling you so deliciously. Your breath had been stolen and soft cries for the jester falling from your lips as praises left his.

Nails dug into his shoulders, bed groaning with every thrust. Your memories, your illusions, none could compare how he played your body now. The angle of his hips, the power behind his thrusts, the way he spoke when he said you were being so good to him, it all pushing you further and further until you were right on the edge.

The grunts of 'listener' echoing inside your mind as legs wrapped around his hips. The new angle elicited a new cry that originated from deep within, involuntarily. Your nails dug into his back as you felt your release crawling ever closer.

"I-I'm close." You breathed, eyes clenched shut you tried to hold onto the world around you.

"Come for me, (Y/n)." He grunted against your skin, delivering an especially powerful thrust before pressing your lips to his in a quick kiss.

You gasped as the words reached you. A name, unimportant from anyone else but coming from him it felt so intimate and raw. Special. You cried out, back arching as you let go, jumping off the edge into the sweet waters that waited below. Muscles tensed impossibly, making it hard for Cicero to move and then your body relaxed around him.

The tightness of your body pushed him impossibly further, another few sharp thrusts and he stilled buried inside you with a groan. You felt warmth spread inside you as he came. Chaste kisses were pressed to your heated body as he held your bodies in place. Neck, collarbone, shoulder. Featherlight, his lips moved as you caught your breath until he pulled himself from you, small sounds falling from your lips when he did.

He laid down beside you, head held up by the elbow he had planted on the bed as he looked at you, grin playing on his lips. "Did Cicero serve the lisener well?" He asked, fingers softly running across the skin on your stomach and drawing elaborate patterns there.

A soft blush scattered along your cheeks as you giggled softly. "Yes, Cicero."

He nodded and there was silence for a few moments before the movement against your stomach stopped. "Listener should let Cicero know when the listener requires.. assistance. Cicero is more than happy to help."

You smiled. "I'll remember that." You said and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

#cicero #smut #satanwritesfanfiction #skyrim

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xiaomoxu · 3 years

Text

Lucien - Intimate Date

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

A date from CN server which hasn’t been released on EN server yet. Might contains some spoiler. Happy Qixi Festival~

Translations under the cut~

Whistle: Speaking of which, Mr. Lucien...

When the "whistle" spoke, I did not hear him clearly. He had to knock the steering wheel twice before I came back to my senses.

MC: Yes, what are you talking about?

Whistle: I said that this mission goal is rare to invite you to travel with. You must seize the opportunity and strive to completely gain his trust.

Whistle: You must record his destination, what he ordered on the train, and who he met.

MC: Yes, I remembered it.

My answer seemed to make him dissatisfied, and he looked at me warily through the rearview mirror.

Whistle: MC, It can't be... Are you tempted by that Mr. Lucien?

With a stern expression only face, I sat up straight up steeply.

MC: What are you kidding about, how can I be tempted by that kind of person?

Whistle: Hmm, you just have to know it.

There was no more words in the carriage, and the car continued to drive towards the train station. Looking at the bustling city outside the window, I tightened my lips.

How could I be tempted by Lucien?

If there is someone who fascinates me, it should...

I lowered my head and glanced at the book in my arms.

"Awakening" Snow fox.

ㅡThis "Snow Fox" who can guide me and give me strength first.

The first time I read Mr. Snow Fox's article, I seemed to be drunk, and all the confusion and perplexity I had been dispelled.

He used his pen as a knife to attack injustice and pave the way for peace.

He is a lonely walker with a torch in his hand, walking in the long dark night.

I am a small streamed firefly attracted by the hot flame, chasing this light silently.

Finally, with all efforts, I joined the organization of Mr. Snow Fox

Although I haven't seen his true face yet, but he once asked someone to forward me a book to encourage me.

MC: You are shimmer, you want to hide under the darkness.

I opened "The Awakening" and mumbled out a line of text on the title page—this was also a personal message from Mr. Snow Fox to me.

MC: I will never disappoint Mr. Snow Fox.

The car stopped by the train station, I put the book back in the secret compartment of the suitcase, and carefully sorted out my cheongsam.

The Whistle opened the door for me.

Whistle: For the last, check the mission target situation again.

MC: Okay.

Whistle: Who is your goal?

MC: Lucien.

Whistle: Who are you?

MC: Lucien’s blind date, which is a rich lady who has lived abroad since she was a child and returned to China for less than half a year.

Whistle: Your task.

MC: Monitor Lucien and find out his purpose of leaving Loveland City this time.

Whistle: Very good. One more thing, if there is a suitable opportunity in this trip...

Whistle: Kill him.

MC: Assassinate Lucien?!

This order was a little unexpected, and I couldn't help being taken aback.

Didn't the previous organization say that Lucien maintains the balance of the Loveland market and asks me to focus on surveillance and not to move?

MC: Why did you suddenly kill Lucien? Was it a temporary decision by the organization?

Whistle: What do you ask this for?

MC: Because this is contrary to my previous actions, so I want to confirm again...

Whistle: This is a private order from Mr. Snow Fox.

MC: Mr. Snow Fox...will give me a private order?!

My eyes widened in surprise, and when I wanted to ask a few more questions, a horn suddenly interrupted our conversation.

At the intersection not far away, three black cars approached us one after another.

The black goat logo on the front of the car was plated with a dazzling silver in the sun, like the cold light on the tip of a knife.

The original noisy street became extremely quiet, and only the tires made a slight rubbing sound on the ground.

The convoy drove slowly across the road, and after such a long distance, I still saw the clear profile face of the mission target in the car window at first glance.

It’s Lucien.

Whistle turned his face and saw Lucien's motorcade, and he frowned.

Whistle: You don't need to be too nervous, I will pretend to be an ordinary tourist at the next stop and sneak into the third-class carriage to meet you.

Whistle: Remember what I just said, once you find the opportunity to do it, use the transmitter in your suitcase to contact me.

Whistle: Okay, it's time to play, Miss MC.

MC: Mmhm.

I took a deep breath and got out of the car with a small suitcase.

The door of the middle car across the street also stopped at the same time. A group of black subordinates lined up, and one of them opened the door.

The first thing that catches my eye is a hand holding a cane. The fingers are white and slender, and the nails are neatly trimmed, like the hands of a literati.

Only the thin calluses at the knuckles indicate that this hand can hold a pen or a gun.

The owner of the hand, leaning on a jade cane, stepped out of his right leg first.

With his figure, it may be more suitable to wear a slim dress, but even if the gown is tightly wrapped, you can still see the straight and slender legs.

The silk gown bends like flowing wrinkles between his knees, and the dark lines on the satin surface reflect the shimmering light as he moves.

He raised his other hand again, took a trilby from the hand of his respectful subordinate and put it on his head.

In the silence, Lucien got out of the car slowly.

It was so quiet all around, it seemed that he was the only protagonist of this silent film.

And after Lucien's gaze slowly looked around, he finally stopped at my face across the street at this moment.

In an instant, his indifferent eyebrows were stained with the temperature of the early morning, and the lip line also bends in a pleasing arc.

Lucien: MC.

MC: Mr. Lucien

Obviously his appearance is so harmless, three points gentler than the teacher in the school.

But when I think of the rumors about this "Mr. Lucien" in the market, I still can't help but feel a palpitation.

He held back his subordinates and walked towards me with a smile.

Lucien: Sorry, did you wait for a long time?

MC: Fortunately, I also just arrived.

I took a step forward, trying to maintain my innocence and asked

MC: Mr. Lucien, where are we going this time, why would you think of inviting me with you?

Lucien: What we are going to is a very beautiful place. As for why I brought you...

Lucien: I think a smart girl like you shouldn't be surprised.

MC: You praise me like this, I'm so embarrassed.

MC: Now that Mr. Lucien decides to keep the sense of mystery, I will keep looking forward to it.

I reddened my cheeks pretending to be shy, but my heart was beating wildly because of the other party.

Whistle hurried to the trunk to help me take out the luggage, and Lucien also leaned down and naturally took the suitcase from me.

Then he straightened up, smiled and stretched out his other arm to me.

Lucien: Let's go.

MC: Okay.

I happily wrapped his arms, leaned my body against him-and walked towards the train station.

There is still a short distance from the start of the train. As VIPs, Lucien and I have already arrived in the luxury carriage in advance.

And after the whistle sent my luggage onto the train, he left immediately. Before leaving, he didn't forget to wink me a warning.

Lucien leaned on the sofa. He glanced at the back of the whistle through the window and whispered.

Lucien: Miss MC, your driver...

Subordinate: Mr. Lucien.

The subordinate's knock on the door interrupted Lucien's words, and he frowned slightly.

Lucien: Come in.

The subordinate walked in quickly and whispered something in Lucien's ear.

I tried to prick my ears, but I could only hear a few scattered words-"clue", "check", "eradication"....

While listening, I calmly poured myself a cup of scented tea.

As Lucien listened to the report of his subordinates, the corner of his mouth moved.

Lucien: Don't worry, continue to follow him.

Subordinate: Did you mean...

I don't know if it was my illusion, Lucien's eyes seemed to turn to me.

Lucien: If you want to do it, do it thoroughly.

Lucien: After all, an excellent hunter wants to lure the "Snow Fox" out of the hole, and it can't do without enough delicious bait.

Snow Fox!

Suddenly hearing these two words, my fingers trembled, and the scented tea almost spilled from the cup.

Lucien: Miss MC, what's wrong?

MC: No, nothing, my finger was accidentally scalded by the teacup for a moment.

Lucien: Let me see.

MC: It's okay, it's just hot.

But Lucien had already held my hand, his strength was very light but I couldn't refuse it.

The cool fingertips rubbed my red fingertips, bringing out an ambiguous itching.

He observed it carefully for a while and saw that there was nothing serious, so he pulled a white silk kerchief from his arms and wrapped it around my finger.

Lucien: The walls of this porcelain cup are relatively thin, so you will remember to put something on your hand next time you drink hot tea.

MC: Alright, I remembered it.

Lucien smiled at me, and lightly shook my fingers wrapped in the kerchief.

When he spoke again, his words were directed to his subordinates.

Lucien: Follow the previous plan. I hope to hear some good news when I get to the station.

Subordinate: Yes Sir.

At this time, the sharp siren finally sounded, steam gushing out, and the steel wheels began to move forward steadily.

The people on the platform waved their hands, saying their last blessings and goodbyes to their loved ones, lovers, and friends.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, there is also the persevering cries of newsboys, one after another, like cicadas in the late summer, so ear-piercing.

News Boy: Sell newspapers! Take a look! Mr. Snow Fox's new work "Dark Night Flame" is on the market!

Before I knew it, I had been on this train for three days.

During these three days, I was not restrained and could walk around in the train at will. The scenery on both sides of the train was beautiful, and the companion accompanying me was considerate and gentle.

If it is said that the only flaw is that there is still no intelligence.

MC: Lucien...

This man is indeed too perfect and too tricky.

I sighed and looked at the figure on the platform unconsciously from the gap between the curtains.

The train will stop next to a small station, and Lucien is talking to the owner of the food stall, he looked gentle and humble.

He paid the money and was about to return to the car with the paper bag. Suddenly, a boy with a cart next to him slammed his feet and slammed forward, exclaiming.

Seeing that the cargo is about to collapseㅡ

Lucien's eyes were quick, and he held the cargo box with one hand and the boy with the other.

Lucien: You all right?

Boy: You are?! sorry! sorry!

When the boy saw that he almost hit a noble person, he trembled with fear and apologized again and again.

Lucien: Don't be so nervous, you didn't hit me either. Go ahead.

Boy: Thank you sir, thank you sir!

The cargo boy ran away without looking back, pushing the front of the car.

-It seemed like a small accident, but from my perspective, I clearly saw the cargo boy quickly stuffing a note into Lucien's hand when he left.

Why did Lucien use this method to deliver messages?

I watched Lucien's calm and composed face, and suspicions gathered in my heart. I raised my head and met his gaze.

MC: ...!

I drew back abruptly, avoiding his sight.

Subordinate: Mr. Lucien?

Lucien: Nothing, go up, don't let the kids wait in a hurry.

After a while, Lucien appeared at the entrance of the carriage. He smiled and raised the paper bag to me as if nothing happened just now.

Lucien: Today is Chinese Valentine's Day, there happens to be a fruit seller in the station, wanna try it?

MC: Huh, today is Qixi Festival?

I couldn't help but froze. The spirit has been tense recently, but even the days have been somewhat forgotten.

Lucien: No wonder you forgot, it was my fault that kept you in the train for too long.

Lucien: But it doesn't matter if you forget these festivals, I will help you remember them.

When he made a promise, his brows were dazzling and his tone was solemn, as if he really was a caring beloved.

Lucien sat next to me and handed me the paper bag.

The small and lovely fruit inside exudes a fragrance, I picked up one and said with a smile to Lucien.

MC: "Begging every year is a coincidence in the world, and there are too many inhumanity in the world", my pleasure.

MC: Hmm... delicious!

MC: Mr. Lucien, do you want to taste it?

With a smile, I picked up another dessert and handed it to Lucien's mouth. He fixedly stared at me for a moment and bit it with a smile.

MC: How is it, isn't it delicious?

Lucien: Well, this is the first time I have eaten this kind of dessert. It is sweet and slightly salty, with a crunchy texture, and it tastes really good.

Lucien: What makes me even more happy is... You really like the taste of this hometown.

He just bit the word "hometown" a little bit harder, and it made my breath stagnate.

MC: I don't understand what Mr. Lucien's words mean.

Lucien: I remember that Miss MC who came back from studying abroad. Both your parents are abroad, right?

Lucien: It just so happened that my subordinates went to a country where Miss MC's parents, so I asked him to inquire a little bit.

Every time Lucien said a word, he leaned forward by a point, and the distance between us was closer.

His breath was burning, with the sweet fragrance of fruit, but it caused a chill in the back of my neck.

Lucien: In his reply to my telegram, he said...in the local area, there has never been such a family.

Lucien: So, Miss MC.

His hands are still cold, and when it touch me, it's like touching rare fragile objects.

His fingertips went from my brow bones, to eyelashes, to cheeks, and finally gently twisted away the fruit crumbs from the corners of my lips.

Lucien: Can you tell me who you are?

Silence flows between us. The train has not started yet. What can be heard is the shouting of the platform not far away, as well as the breathing and heartbeat close at hand.

As Lucien's breath enveloped me, there seemed to be a flame igniting in the place where he had just touched. I bit my lower lip and tried not to shift my sight.

MC: Is the answer to this question important to Mr. Lucien?

Lucien: Of course it is important.

MC: Why?

My question made Lucien raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Lucien: Haven't you noticed MC? You are a very important person to me.

MC: Haha, Mr. Lucien's words really flatter me.

tugged at the corners of my mouth stiffly, but my mind was spinning.

What does Lucien mean by "not found"? What does "very important" mean?

How much did he find out about my identity?

With Lucien's ability, as long as he catches any slight loophole in my words, it will be enough to destroy everything.

No, I can no longer answer any questions from Lucien.

It just so happened that the train whistle sounded again, and I put my hands behind me and pretended to pull the tablecloth inadvertently at the moment the train started.

The tea cup on the table swayed twice and poured in response. The remaining tea in the cup was spilled on me and Lucien.

I took the opportunity to sit up, lowered my head to help Lucien wipe his clothes, and apologized to him again and again.

MC: Oh, Mr. Lucien, I am sorry!

Lucien looked down at the tea stains on his silk shirt and smiled.

MC: I'm okay, but you have water stains on your body, so go back and clean it up.

As a pardon, I nodded and left immediately.

Lucien: By the way, I asked the train restaurant to prepare a candlelight dinner tonight, and I hope Miss MC will appreciate it.

MC: With Mr. Lucien's invitation, I will definitely be present in full dress.

Lucien: I believe MC, no matter how you dress it up, it will look good.

Lucien lifted the teacup on the table, seemingly inadvertently added another sentence.

Lucien: After all, such a good day as Qixi Festival cannot be easily let down.

I was sent back to my car by Lucien's subordinates. The moment I closed the door, I felt my strength slip away and plunged into the mattress.

MC: (sighed)

Being vigilant all the time makes me exhausted physically and mentally. Only when I’m in my car, I can breathe a sigh of relief.

My identity will be revealed sooner or later, and once exposed, would Lucien behave like a merchandiser who is pushing goods, showing me a touch of kindness?

Do I really have a fluke with Lucien like the whistle said?

I opened my eyes and slowly spread out my palms.

In the palm of my hand is the little note I just stole from Lucien.

There was a line written on it: Snow Fox is in the car, be careful.

At the moment when I saw these words, all kinds of scenes flashed past my eyes quickly.

Lucien: After all, an excellent hunter wants to lure the "snow fox" out of the hole, and it can't do without enough delicious bait.

Lucien: Haven't you noticed that you like ink? You are a very important person to me.

Could it be that... Lucien discovered that I was an organizer and wanted to use me as a bait to draw out the "Snow Fox"?!

Since this is the case, should I act first to be the best-obey Mr. Snow Fox's order and kill Lucien.

Snow Fox , Lucien...All the emotions in my heart are like a tangled mess. I can't help but reach out to the suitcase by the bed.

Across the wall of the box, the "Awakening" lay quietly there.

After a long time, I took a deep breath, sat up from the bed, and started preparing for the action tonight.

I first took out the wireless transmitter hidden in the suitcase and told the whistle that Lucien and I would have dinner in the dining car tonight.

Then quickly took off the pink dress and put on a purple cheongsam. Opened the secret compartment of the suitcase, took out a pistol from the inside and tied it to my thigh.

While putting on makeup, there was a knock from a subordinate outside the door.

Subordinate: Miss MC, Mr. Lucien is already waiting for you in the restaurant.

MC: Got it, tell Mr. Lucien that I will be there soon.

I put the lipstick back in the box and was about to get up when the light from the corner of my eye suddenly swept over something on the table.

It was the white handkerchief Lucien wrapped around my finger when I lied about being scalded.

When I returned to the car, I put it on the dressing table and didn't move it again.

Lucien's handkerchief is as simple as his clothes, and there is no other pattern except for the embroidered mark of his name on the corner of the handkerchief.

The moment I saw the handkerchief, Lucien's abrupt eyes suddenly appeared in my mind.

Why does a rumored "Mr. Lucien" who is obsessed with power and cruel, has such a pair of calm and sober eyes?

Obviously in my imagination countless times, only the "Mr. Snow Fox" in my mind would have such eyes.

MC: Mr. Lucien... is it really just Mr. Lucien?

I was shocked by the nonsense that I blurted out, and I took a step back abruptly.

I was a little flustered inexplicably. Just about to put away the handkerchief, my fingers suddenly felt strange bumps on the silk surface.

MC: Hmm??

I looked down and found that beside Lucien's name, there was a Morse code embroidered with silk threads of the same color.

I held my breath and fumbled for the code with my fingers, and finally found that they formed a words.

MC: My shimmer?

The setting sun outside the window was sinking, and the fluent sunset glow was gradually replaced by the night.

The lights are lit on each train, and the train shuttles through the mountains and forests like a golden dragon.

When I arrived in the restaurant, Lucien was still writing a letter at the table by the window.

When he saw me, he put away the half-written letter and smiled at me.

Tonight, instead of wearing the daytime gown, he changed into a slim-fitting suit, and his temperament became more capable and chic.

MC: Sorry to let Mr. Lucien wait for a long time.

Lucien: Compared to Cowherd who can solve the pain of lovesickness only once a year, I only waited a while for "Little Weaver Girl", considered to be very lucky.

Lucien: Have a seat

He opened the table seat for me, and I took a seat happily.

Lucien: How have you been on the train these days?

MC: Mr. Lucien seems to ask me this every day.

Lucien: Do you think I'm long-winded?

MC: No, this is your thoughtfulness, I like it very much, and I have had a good time these days.

MC: Even too comfortable, I don't want to get out of the train

Lucien: This is bad.

MC: What's wrong?

Lucien: After eating this dinner, we are almost arrived at the station. If MC don't want to get off the train, I can only use other methods to get you off.

I quickly glanced at the closed door of the dining car, settled, poured a glass of wine, and continued to laugh with Lucien

MC: What other method does Mr. Lucien want to use?

Lucien: It depends on what approach Miss MC likes.

MC: Me, of course I want more....

Before I finished speaking, the ground suddenly shook! A hot air wave overturned the railroad tracks and hit the carriage!

Before I had time to react, I felt like the sky was spinning.

The next second, I fell into a warm embrace.

Lucien: Ugh...!

Lucien held me firmly in his arms, but his whole body was knocked to the ground by the air wave.

The world in the carriage was upside down, and Lucien's letters and official documents on the table were scattered all over the

The ornate decorations turned into fragments, and the wine in the glass was spilled on the brocade like drips of red blood.

The disaster came without warning, and the steel giant leaned on the rails, uttering a heavy mournful cry.

I turned my face to look at the mess on the ground. The crying and screams from the front and rear carriages made my brain go blank.

MC: What exactly is going on...

Lucien: The train was blown up. It should be coming for me.

Lucien took me up with one hand, and with the other hand drew the pistol from his back.

The explosion plunged the train into chaos, and Lucien's subordinates was at the other carriages and it was too late to arrive.

He turned around and looked at the exit of the carriage warily, while admonishing me.

Lucien: MC, If the other party wants to cut the grass and roots, it is estimated that they will take the opportunity to return to the restaurant to confirm my life and death, you have to be careful....

The words after were swallowed back, because a gun was hitting his abdomen at the moment.

MC: Don't move.

Lucien's gaze moved up from the muzzle a little bit, fell to the hand of my gun, and finally stopped on my face.

For the first time, his eternally calm eyes rippled, and his lips opened slightly, and then he pressed tightly again.

In the next second, a smile suddenly appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Lucien: Miss MC wants to kill me.

Lucien's somewhat helpless expression made me feel embarrassed, as if I was just a little girl making trouble with her lover unreasonably.

MC: Why are you laughing?

Lucien: Nothing, the other side of MC really surprised me and couldn't help but laugh.

I glanced at him and opened his tie with the muzzle of my gun.

Then freed his other hand and groped his waist and chest roughly to make sure that there were no other weapons or wiretapping on him.

And Lucien opened his hands very cooperatively, as if he was at my disposal.

After searching, I glanced at the door again before turning my gaze back to Lucien.

MC: Mr. Lucien, before killing you, I want to ask you a question.

My fingers slowly touched his heart, and said word by word with an voice that only the two of us could hear.

MC: (Do you believe I will be shimmer?)

Lucien's eyes were suddenly bright, and he also answered me with his mouth.

Lucien: (From beginning to end.)

Bang!!

The moment his voice fell to the ground, I shot.

Lucien also slowly fell to the ground under the gunshot.

MC: ....

Holding the gun tightly, I kept my eyes locked on the doorway of the squeezed carriage.

Finally, after a while, a figure appeared at the door.

MC: Whistle..

Whistle: MC? You didn't...

MC: I was lucky, and it happened to be blocked by the sofa when it exploded.

Whistle: Y-Yes...what about Lucien?

MC: Didn't you hear the gunshot just now, I've finished him.

MC: Whistle, You seem to have expected this explosion?

The whistle glanced at Lucien, who was motionless, then glanced at me, his mouth suddenly grinned from an arrogant angle.

Whistle: Of course, this is my plan.

As he said, the hand of the whistle rose sharply, and the black hole pointed straight at me.

Whistle: Because you and "Snow Fox" both have to die.

However, before he had time to pull the triggerㅡ bang! A gunshot sounded faster!

Lucien: Finally bit the bait.

Lucien, who was lying on the ground, opened his eyes. He slowly sat up with a gun in one hand, looking at the whistle for an instant.

Whistle: You..

The man's eyes were full of things, his shrunken pupils were printed with the figure of me and Lucien standing side by side.

When he was about to attack again, the sound of footsteps came from both ends of the dining car. Lucien's subordinates who had survived the explosion finally rushed over and subdued him to the ground.

Subordinate: Mr. Lucien, are you okay!

Lucien: I'm fine.

Lucien: Apart from this person, there must be other pests in this train. Clean it up immediately.

Lucien: Also, immediately contact the headquarters and the nearest hospital, check the conditions of the front and rear carriages, and take all passengers out of here.

Subordinate: But you...

Lucien: Hurry up.

The subordinates' throats stagnated, and they didn't dare to defy him, dragging the seriously injured whistles towards the two carriages.

There were only two of us in the carriage at this moment, and Lucien turned his eyes back to me after watching the last subordinate leave.

Lucien: I just saw, Miss MC's acting is a little bit flamboyant, and she still needs a lot of polishing.

I didn't reply immediately, just stared at Lucien firmly.

At this moment, Lucien's face was strangely clear in the twilight, eyebrows, lips, cheeks... finally merged with "Snow Fox".

MC: ...Mr. Snow Fox's acting skills are outstanding, and the little girl is deeply impressed.

Lucien smiled deeper, and he carefully helped me straighten my temples.

Lucien: When did you discover that the whistle had a problem?

MC: From the beginning. When he faked "Snow Fox" orders and asked me to assassinate you, I began to doubt him.

MC: But at that time I was still not sure about his motives, then...

I took out the handkerchief, and picked up the letters scattered on the ground—the writing on it was exactly the same as the writing in "The Awakening" message.

MC: Did you also find out that there is a problem with the whistle from the beginning?

Lucien shook his head.

Lucien: No. I only found out that he had betrayed the organization and he also found out that I was Snow Fox.

MC: Then when you first got in the car, you said you wanted to get rid of "Snow Fox"....

Lucien: In addition to the whistle, there are other inner ghosts.

Lucien: I arranged this train and wanted to use this excuse to catch them all.

Lucien: But I didn't expect these people to blow up the train in order to get rid of me.

This is a journey of life and death. In the confrontation between righteousness and evil, everyone's identities are constantly changing.

Everyone feels that he is a hunter and the other is a prey. Lucien the Snow Fox. Whistle the traitor.

ㅡOnce Lucien dies on the train, the entire Loveland City may face a bloody storm.

When Lucien said this, his voice became more and more apologetic.

Lucien: I insisted on taking you in the train, because I was afraid that you would be silenced by the whistle while I was away. As a result, I almost made you fall into danger with me. Sorry.

MC: I am not afraid of danger, darkness must accompany danger, I just... a little angry.

Lucien: Why are you angry?

I blushed, and finally threw the gun to him, hold my breath to say the words.

MC: You... the big liar who always talks around the bush!

Lucien laughed loudly. The first time I heard him smile so clear, it was like the early morning when the clouds saw the sun.

He took me to the side of the carriage, supported the window with one hand, and dexterously take off from the carriage.

MC: What are we going to do?

Lucien: There is much more to be done.

Lucien: "Snow Fox" can disappear, but Lucien still has to exist.

Lucien: We have to continue this scene until the darkness fades.

He stretched out his hand to me outside the train. I held his hand and felt the solid strength of his arm.

MC: You are talking around the bush again.

Lucien: Hmm... Would you like to hear me say something less convoluted?

MC: Of course I do.

The glow in the distant mountains has long since faded, and the long night is approaching, and the wilderness will rise from the starting point of the firefly.

Lucien's eyes are brighter than stars and fluorescent lights.

He smiled and took me out of the trainㅡ

Lucien: It happens MC for me, it is indeed a very important person

Lucien: I am very satisfied with the result of this blind date, how about you?

Notes from me: You’ve done reading~ thank you for always read Lucien’s date~ I really love the interaction between MC and Lucien in this date, the way Lucien always want to protect MC and MC who wants Lucien’s kindness, is really make my heart fluttered. Again, thanks a bunch for everyone, HAPPY QIXI FESTIVAL! (*≧ω≦*)

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc lucien #lucien #mlqc date #mlqc translation

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olivemac · 3 years

Text

1300 miles | chapter one | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, Sarge), smut (f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, slight dom!Bucky, praise kink), angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

A/N | It’s my birthday, so to celebrate I’m sharing chapter one of my new WIP. This started its life as a one-shot but then my enneagram 4 brain took over and now it’s looking like it’ll be a multi-chapter short. Enjoy!

Also, feedback – comments, likes, etc. – is always appreciated, my loves.

AO3 link | 1300 miles playlist

_____

The sun is just starting to sink in the sky as Sam and Bucky finish the latest repairs on the boat. Sam has spent the last hour pestering Bucky about things he’s missed over the last 80 years — things he needs to do, shows and movies he needs to watch, music to listen to, places to go. Bucky is considering the consequences of putting his vibranium fist through the new Captain America’s face.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been to New Orleans?” Sam half-shouts at Bucky in amusement.

“Sam, besides the airport, when would I have been to New Orleans?” Bucky sighs.

“We’re going. Tonight.” He stands up. “But none of that Bourbon Street bullshit. I know a place,” he says.

_____

The bar is crowded on a Saturday night, but they manage to find a table near the small stage where a band is setting up.

“I’ll get drinks,” Sam says, heading to the bar.

“Sam said he knows the owners?” Bucky asks Sarah.

“Jo and Danny. Yeah,” Sarah says. “Danny served with Sam on his last tour. Real young kid when he served. Took some shrapnel to the chest and face in an RPG explosion and got out early. He and Sam kept in touch.”

Bucky watches Sam talk to a man with a mop of curly, brown hair and an auburn beard behind the bar. From where he sits, Bucky can see a jagged scar peeking out from the top of the man’s beard over his cheek, stopping just below his right eye.

Sam returns with three beers. "Danny says hi," he tells Sarah. "Says he'll come over when he has a free minute."

"Jo around?" Sarah asks.

Sam nods toward the stage. "She's playing tonight. Danny says she's in the office rewriting the set list."

Bucky sips his beer and looks around. When they entered, there was a wave of enthusiasm as people recognized Sam as Captain America, but it seems to have died down and now no one is paying them much attention. Bucky prefers it that way, though he’s happy that people are excited for Sam.

“Speak of the devil,” Sam says, smiling and nodding toward a woman emerging from a door beside the bar marked ‘Employees Only.’ She’s wearing a loose-fitting white tank tucked into light-wash jeans cuffed just above a pair of black combat boots. Her wavy, dark hair fans out behind her as she rushes towards the stage. She's clutching a piece of paper in one hand, and the smile on her face makes Bucky's heart stutter for a moment.

Sam catches the way Bucky is watching Jo as she jumps onto the stage. He elbows Sarah and nods at the lovestruck look on Bucky's face, and they share a smirk. Bucky doesn't notice the exchange. He's too busy studying Jo. Her arms are covered in tattoos, from shoulders to fingers. When she tucks a strand of hair behind her left ear, Bucky can see the row of piercings adorning the curve of her ear. There's a gold ring between her nostrils. Bucky's seen some of the kids in Brooklyn with that piercing, but he doesn't know what it's called. He's seen plenty of women like her since moving back to New York — with tattoos and piercings and dark hair — but there's something about the combination with her green eyes and soft smile that makes his mouth go dry and his palm sweat.

He takes another sip of his beer to ground himself.

Jo picks up an acoustic-electric guitar from its stand, swings the strap over her shoulder, and plugs the guitar into a small amp at her feet. She raises her right hand in the air and sets a count with her fingers — one, two, three, four. The band starts, and Jo strums the guitar, smiling at the crowd. When she steps up to the microphone and opens her mouth, Bucky is surprised at how sweet her voice sounds. He was expecting it to be rougher, but it's gentle and warm, and he likes the way her mouth looks as it forms the words to the song.

Next to him, Sam taps his foot along to the music. Bucky can't remember the last time he saw a band play live. God, he thinks, it was before the war, before everything. He takes another sip of his beer before Sarah hands him a fresh bottle. He hadn't even noticed that she'd left the table and gone to the bar. He smiles and nods his thanks.

Sarah leans over and whispers to Bucky just loud enough for Sam to hear, as well, "You should ask her out after the show."

Bucky grimaces and shakes his head. As he told Yori once, there's a dance to these things, and he's eighty years out of practice. Plus, his last date didn't exactly go as planned.

But he can't stop staring at Jo's painted black nails and tattooed fingers as they move across the guitar strings. LOVE is written across the top knuckles of her right hand, HATE on the left. A series of lines and dots decorate her lower knuckles. There’s a snake curling around her left wrist, its inked head resting on her hand, and several large peonies cover the back of her right hand and up her forearm. Bucky wonders what her tattooed hands would look like wrapped around his cock. He also wonders where else on her body she has tattoos and what that voice would sound like when he's between her thighs. Fuck.

The band transitions into another song, and Jo's eyes land on Bucky. She's used to people staring at her, especially when she's on stage, but she's caught by the way his eyes never leave her, never wander to look at the band's female bassist or to Sarah sitting next to him. She's certain his stare could burn a hole right through her, and she wouldn't even complain. He’s fucking gorgeous.

She knows who he is, of course. She’s seen the recent footage of him with Sam in New York and read the Times article detailing his move from assassin to almost Avenger. Plus, her twin brother, Danny, was a bit of a history nerd as a kid so she’s definitely seen a Captain America documentary that mentioned the Howling Commandos. And they may or may not have hidden a fugitive Captain America and Falcon following the Accords.

Jo tears her eyes away from the super soldier and focuses on the rest of the audience. She can see Danny behind the bar, flirting with the man he's been trying to sleep with for the past two weeks. She catches his eye and smiles her encouragement between lyrics. Get his number! she tries to say with her eyes. Danny's usually pretty good at reading her mind. She doesn't know if it's a brother thing or a twin thing or just a Danny thing, but when he holds up his phone in surrender and smiles back at her, she knows he got the message.

The first half of their set ends with a crash of drums and a long guitar riff. Jo takes a swig from the mason jar full of water she keeps on stage. Her eyes meet Bucky's again as she swallows, and he licks his bottom lip. Heat curls in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what else that tongue could do.

Willow, the band's bassist, steps over and whispers in Jo's ear, “If you don’t fuck him after the show, I’m going to."

When Jo looks at her, she can see the amusement dancing in Willow's eyes. She rolls her own eyes and avoids looking directly at Bucky for the rest of the set.

_____

After the last song, Jo thanks the crowd and helps the rest of the band tidy up the stage, unplugging amps and turning off the mics. She's still trying not to look at Bucky, even though she can feel his eyes on her.

"You have to stop staring, man," Sam whispers to Bucky.

"I'm not staring," Bucky grumbles.

Sarah laughs, "You're definitely staring."

“Here," Sam says, "I'll introduce you." And before Bucky can protest, Sam is waving Jo over. "Josephine," Sam says, hugging her.

"Samuel," she returns, smiling. "Congrats on the new gig." She punches his shoulder lightly. "Better you than that John Walker douchebag," she says. Bucky snorts, and she catches his eye and smirks before turning to Sarah. "Hey, Sarah." They exchange pleasantries while Bucky tries to get his tongue to turn back from lead.

Sam points at Bucky, "This is—"

Bucky stands. "Bucky. Barnes."

Jo smiles and shakes his gloved hand. "Jo. Landry," she says, matching his cadence.

Sam was right. Bucky can't stop staring at her. This close, he can see there's a bit of gold in the green of her eyes and a slight gap between her two front teeth. She smells like sandalwood and citrus and just a little bit like pot.

Jo returns his stare. His five o’clock shadow doesn’t hide the dimple in his chin, and she briefly imagines pressing her lips against it. She’s trying to name the exact shade of blue of his eyes when Sam clears his throat.

She’s not usually so easily flustered by attractive people, but Bucky's blue eyes and chiseled jaw have done a number on her self-control. “Let me grab a drink,” Jo says, turning quickly.

“No need,” Danny says, appearing in front of her and handing her a glass. He leans in and whispers in her ear, “He’s cute.”

“Please fuck off,” Jo hisses in return, widening her eyes at him. She’s only half-serious, and Danny knows it. It’s a twin thing.

When she looks at Bucky again, he’s smirking, and she wonders if enhanced hearing is a super soldier trait. Bucky pulls out the fourth chair at the small table for her to sit, and Jo can't remember the last time someone did that for her.

"The show was great," Sarah says, grabbing Jo's attention.

"Thanks," Jo replies. "Took a while to get back to it after…” she snaps her fingers but doesn’t finish her sentence.

"You were snapped?" Bucky asks.

Jo nods. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

"Cheers," she says sarcastically, raising her glass in a toast. She shakes her head again and pushes her hair behind her ear. "Five years just," she holds her hands open, "gone. Danny was still here, holding all this together by himself."

She tucks one leg under the other, and her knee bumps Bucky’s beneath the table. When she moves to pull her knee away from his, he places a gloved hand on her thigh, holding her leg in place.

Bucky surprises even himself with this move. He hasn’t been this forward with a woman since an auburn-haired nurse in Italy during the war. With her, it was all hands and mouths and skin on skin because he was certain he was going to die any day. Now he supposedly has all the time in the world. He just isn’t sure what he wants to do with it.

But in this moment, he's comfortable here, in this tiny bar, with a beer in his hand and Jo's knee pressed against his. He's confident that Sam would never introduce him to someone he couldn't trust.

Bucky's flirted with Sarah, sure, but that was mostly to irritate to Sam. And as much as he doesn't want to admit it, the thought of something happening between himself and Sarah and then ending badly and ruining his relationship with Sam makes his stomach hurt. Pursuing Jo seems safer in that regard. She and Sam are friends, but if — when, he thinks — he ruins things, he can just go back to New York instead of losing his only friend.

Jo asks Sarah about AJ and Cass to distract herself from the butterflies forming in her stomach at Bucky’s touch, and Sam starts a story about the boys' latest interests. Bucky is content to listen to the three of them talk, his eyes barely leaving Jo. When she flicks her gaze over to him every now and then, she doesn't seem phased by his staring, and she hasn't pulled her knee away from where it's softly touching his. After a while, Danny emerges from behind the bar and joins their table, introducing himself to Bucky with a firm handshake.

While Danny and Sam trade updates about people they know, Jo leans towards Bucky and asks, “You want another drink?”

“Sure,” Bucky replies.

Jo doesn’t say anything else, just nods her head toward the bar, stands, and offers Bucky her hand. He takes it, the leather glove of his right hand warm against her palm. He wishes he could feel her skin without the gloves between them. He doesn’t usually wear them around Sam and Sarah and everyone in Delacroix, but he wasn’t sure how the metal arm would be perceived at this bar he’s never been to. Sam told him not to worry about it, but Bucky doesn’t like to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Jo leads him through the sea of tables to a barstool, then moves behind the bar and grabs him a fresh bottle of the beer he's been drinking all night. "Unless you want something stronger," she says, pausing before she hands it to him.

"This is good," Bucky replies.

She pops the top and hands him the bottle. He takes a sip as he watches her maneuver around the bartender on duty to fix herself another whiskey sour before taking a seat on the barstool next to him.

"Full disclosure; because it's only fair," she says, taking a sip of her drink. "I know who you are, Sergeant Barnes. Not the whole story, but bits and pieces."

Bucky pauses. He searches her eyes for the fear he's expecting but finds none. "And you're okay with that?" he asks.

Jo quirks the corner of her mouth up in a half-smile and says, “If Sam trusts you, I trust you."

“I’m not great with meeting new people, and I was telling myself the same thing about you," Bucky admits, almost sheepishly.

“You know we can never tell Sam about this, right?" Jo says, conspiratorially. "We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Never,” Bucky agrees, and knocks his beer bottle lightly against her glass in understanding.

They talk for a while, just the two of them alone at the end of the bar. Jo asks him how he likes Louisiana ("Hot, but the people are friendly"); where he's staying ("Sarah's"); when he's heading back to New York ("A week from tomorrow"); what he likes to do for fun ("Still figuring that out"); his favorite place ("Wakanda") and favorite book ("The Hobbit"); and a myriad of other questions — some of which Bucky answers easily and some that make him pause. He makes her give her own answers to each one in turn.

Jo leans close to Bucky so she can hear him over the noise of the room, and he takes the opportunity to study her features more closely. He's practically mapped all of her face when her eyes leave his for a brief second and land on Sam, Sarah, and Danny staring at them from the table across the room.

"Don't look now," she whispers, leaning even closer, "But we seem to have an audience."

Bucky makes a big show of looking over his shoulder at the group.

"I said 'don't look!'" Jo laughs and swats casually at his arm.

Bucky takes the opportunity to pin her hand with his own, holding it tightly and licking his bottom lip before smiling at her. He can see the blush paint her cheeks and creep down her neck and chest.

He likes Jo, likes how easy it feels to be around her. He isn't used to that. He isn't used to feeling comfortable with people. Hell, he thinks, I barely feel comfortable with myself. But there's something about Jo that makes him feel safe and calm. Of course, there's attraction there — plenty of it — but he's sure it's more than that.

For her part, Jo is enamored with Bucky. She likes his hard edges and his snark, but she also likes the small glimpses he's given her of the man beneath all of that. She doesn't usually fall for people so easily, but she's found herself drowning in the sea of blues that make up Bucky's eyes, and she doesn't want to be rescued. How fucking cliche, she tells herself.

"We should probably go back over there," Bucky says, squeezing her hand once before releasing it.

They both stand and make their way back to the table. Bucky pulls Jo's chair out for her again, but this time, he makes sure to pull it a little closer to his chair in the process. This doesn't go unnoticed by Sam who smirks at him. Bucky returns the smirk with a thin-lipped smile of his own before scooting even closer to Jo.

Jo finds it hard to focus on the conversation in front of her with Bucky's warm body so close to her own, and she realizes she misses the pleasant feeling of his gloved hand around hers. She places her own hand on his thigh and hopes he gets the hint.

Bucky’s fascinated by even the slightest movements of Jo's tattooed fingers, and when her hand rests on his denim-clad thigh, he thinks the sight alone might kill him. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls the glove off his right hand and links his own flesh and bone fingers with hers.

Jo doesn't look at Bucky — she's trying not to draw attention to her hand in his lap — but Bucky watches the corner of her mouth quirk upwards into a smile, and he squeezes her hand in response.

The conversation continues a bit longer before Danny leaves the table to check in with his bartender. Jo excuses herself to get another drink, and Bucky watches her pop behind the bar to fill a glass for herself.

"I need to get home, relieve the babysitter," Sarah says when she finishes her beer.

"We're heading out then," Sam says, then turns to Bucky, "You coming?"

Bucky looks toward Jo and says, "No, I'm gonna stick around. I'll get a cab back or get a hotel room in the city."

Sam smirks. "I don't think you're gonna need a hotel room, man."

Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Just promise me you'll use protection," Sam laughs. "We don't need any little super soldiers running around just yet."

Bucky gives him a sarcastic smile, but realizes Sam's probably right, and he definitely doesn't have any condoms in his wallet. He's not planning on sleeping with Jo tonight — he just met her, and he's not sure he's ready for that yet — but if the army taught him anything, it's to be prepared. As if reading his mind, Sam pulls out his wallet and places a condom in Bucky's palm before pulling him in for a hug and clapping him on the back.

"Have fun, man," Sam says.

Sam and Sarah say their goodbyes to Danny and Jo on their way out, and Bucky joins Jo at the bar, sitting on the barstool next to her where they sat earlier.

"Sticking around, soldier?" she asks. She reaches for his dog tags and tugs them gently. The drinks have been strong, and she's feeling more flirtatious than she would otherwise.

"If you don't mind," Bucky replies.

Jo smiles and reaches for his hand this time. "Not at all."

"Are you gonna finish your interrogation of me?" Bucky asks, amusement apparent in his voice.

Jo laughs in return. “I thought I'd read your palm instead," she says, turning his hand over in her own.

Bucky snorts but doesn't pull his hand away. "Is this a trick you use on all the guys?"

"And girls," Jo says, meeting his eyes. Then she studies his hand carefully, running her index finger across the lines that crisscross his palm.

"Your dominant hand," she continues, "determines your future, while your non-dominant hand is tied to your past."

Bucky snorts again at the truth of it all.

"I'm not making this up!" Jo laughs. "I mean, someone did, but I'm not!" She can see the laughter shining in Bucky's eyes, so she goes on, "Your head line is deep, meaning your thinking is clear and focused, but it's also curved downward which indicates a creative spirit and an appetite for literature and fantasy." She looks up at him, "Explains the love for Tolkien."

"I'm not sure I'm buying this," Bucky says.

"You've literally fought aliens, and you're gonna give me a hard time over palm reading," Jo laughs.

"The aliens were real," Bucky deadpans.

"And in New Orleans, palm reading and psychics and crystal balls and voodoo are real," Jo says, still laughing. "But I promise not to read your palm again or read your aura or get out the tarot cards."

Bucky likes the way her slight accent makes New Orleans sound more like Nawlins. He also likes the sound of her laughter and the way her face lights up when she smiles. She's still holding his hand in her own, so he turns his palm over in hers and brings her tattooed knuckles to his lips.

_____

Meanwhile, the bar closes, and Danny and the bartender clean glasses and close up for the night.

Danny points at Jo as he comes around the bar. "I’m locking up then heading upstairs," he says.

"Thanks, love," Jo replies.

Danny walks the bartender out and locks the front door, then retraces his steps to the back of the bar. On his way past Jo, he stops and kisses her on the cheek, saying, "Be good. And set the alarm."

He turns to Bucky. "And you, Sergeant Barnes," he says, pointing at him now, "I know you're an Avenger or whatever, but if you hurt her, I'll kill you."

"Bye, Danny," Jo says, rolling her eyes as he disappears through the door marked 'Employees Only.' "Don't worry about him," Jo says, turning back to Bucky.

“Older brother, right?” Bucky says. He understands; he was an older brother once.

“Twins, actually,” Jo smiles.

Bucky takes a sip of his beer. "Sarah said Danny served with Sam," he says.

"Yeah. Afghanistan. A lifetime ago," Jo says. “He only had one more mission before he could come home so he switched with someone. An RPG barely missed the helicopter he was in, and he was pretty badly injured in the explosion and the resulting crash. Almost lost an eye. He came home, got out of the Air Force, went to business school. Now we own the bar..." She pauses to take the last sip of her drink. "...and the building. Sam's really helped Danny get past everything."

"He's good at that," Bucky says.

"Another thing we can never tell him," Jo laughs.

"Agreed. So, when do I get to ask about your tattoos?" he questions.

"What do you want to know?" she asks.

Bucky licks his bottom lip. "Anything."

He likes her dagger tattoo the best. It’s inked on the inside of her right forearm, nestled amongst the peonies, the hilt facing the crook of her elbow and the knife’s tip pointed toward her wrist. It’s feminine and dangerous and incredibly sexy. She blushes when he tells her how much he likes it. He doesn't tell her it reminds him of one of his favorite knives, currently tucked at the bottom of his backpack back in Sarah's living room.

"In some ways, they're my armor," she explains. "When I'm on stage, people look at the tattoos, not me, and I kind of like that. It lets me be whoever I want to up there."

Bucky understands the desire to hide better than anyone. But she knows who he is so there's really no point in hiding from her any longer. Plus, he feels like his arm is something she would understand, something she could accept — not just because of her brother's military record but because of her own unique body modifications.

He pulls his left glove off and shrugs out of his leather jacket, revealing the vibranium arm beneath his black t-shirt.

Jo takes in the black metal and gold details. "That," she says, pointing to his arm, "is lovely."

"It's lethal," Bucky warns.

She cocks her head to the side and says, "If you're trying to scare me, it won't work, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky can't stop the corner of his lip from pulling up in the slightest hint of a smile.

"Okay,” she says, placing her palms flat on the bar top. “You want another beer?" she asks.

Jo stands and turns to move behind the bar, but Bucky's vibranium hand on her arm stops her. She looks at him curiously, and he slides his arm behind her back and pulls her flush against his chest. She settles between his open thighs, her palms resting gently on top of his legs. He's staring at her so intensely she's convinced he willburn that hole right through her, but she can't bring herself to look away.

He leans in, his lips only a breath away from hers.

"Can I kiss you?" Bucky finally asks, his flesh hand moving up to cup her cheek.

"Please," Jo whispers, desperately.

Bucky closes the distance between them, and his lips meet hers. He's hesitant at first, but when he feels Jo respond, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing even closer, he runs his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opens them for him. She tastes like bourbon and lemon from the whiskey sours she's been drinking, and Bucky loves it. His tongue sweeps along the roof of her mouth, and Jo moans. Bucky is determined to hear that sound again.

He kisses across the corner of her mouth and over her jaw. The hand that was cupping her cheek moves to her hair to angle her head backwards and give him better access to the bare skin of her neck. He laves his tongue over the corded muscles there, then nips at the skin with his teeth. She moans again, and Bucky is on fire.

Jo's right hand weaves into his short hair and tugs until his mouth comes away from her neck. He catches his breath while Jo nuzzles his nose with her own and places a soft kiss against the Cupid's bow of his upper lip. His eyes meet hers, and her pupils are blown wide with lust.

The need to kiss her again is overwhelming. Bucky’s lips find hers, and Jo somehow leans even closer into his body, her hands tracing down his chest to his waist. Bucky lets his own hands move to Jo’s ribs, resting just beneath her chest, his thumbs teasing the underside of each breast. Jo gasps when Bucky’s right thumb moves across her taut nipple.

Fuck, he thinks, I need to slow down. While he’s shared kisses with the handful of women he’s met on dating apps, he hasn’t done anything this intimate in a lifetime.

Bucky pulls away, panting. He rests his forehead against Jo's and stares into her green eyes.

"I should leave," he says. “I’m getting carried away. I…I want to do this right.”

And he does. Desperately. He wants to buy her flowers and take her out and learn what makes her swoon. But he also wants to map every tattoo on her body with his fingers and tongue and then fuck her until she can’t walk straight.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Jo laughs breathily. “We don’t have to do anything, but it’s almost three o'clock in the morning and your ride already left. You can sleep on my couch if you want to be a gentleman.”

Bucky groans. “I should be a gentleman."

She kisses him again, lightly, then moves away to set the alarm and turn the rest of the lights out. She leads him through the 'Employees Only' door and up a set of stairs to her apartment.

"You're not allergic to cats, are you?" Jo asks, as she unlocks the door.

"No," Bucky says. As far as he knows, he's not allergic to anything thanks to the knock-off serum, but he doesn't say that.

Inside her apartment, Jo kicks off her combat boots at the door, and Bucky does the same, leaving them both in their socked feet. There's a fluffy black cat sitting on the back of the green velvet sofa.

"That's Toulouse," Jo says. "Or Louie. He doesn't answer to either, so it really doesn't matter what I call him."

The cat regards Bucky with indifference before standing up, stretching, and leaving the room.

"Guest bathroom’s just there,” she nods. “Let me get you some blankets and pillows for the couch," Jo continues. "Unless you've changed your mind about being a gentleman." She smirks at him.

Bucky laughs through his nose. “Don’t tempt me.”

Jo leaves the room for a moment, which gives Bucky a chance to look around. He's standing in her living room; one wall features a set of French doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the street, and the opposite wall holds bookcases stuffed from floor to ceiling with books, framed photographs, and various knick-knacks. From where he stands, he can see a small room with an upright piano and guitars hanging on the walls. The exterior walls of Jo's apartment are brick, and everything else is set in jewel tones. He likes it. It's dark and cozy, and from what he knows of Jo so far, her living space matches her well.

When she returns, Jo is holding a stack of blankets and pillows. She sets them on the ottoman and moves across the room to close the curtains.

"There are some sweats and a t-shirt there that should fit you" she says, turning to Bucky.

"Thanks," Bucky says, smiling softly.

Now that they're here, in her apartment, Bucky isn't sure what he's supposed to do or say. He can still feel the heat of Jo's lips on his, and he's painfully aware that the condom Sam gave him is still in his pocket.

Jo must sense the hesitation rolling off him because she crosses the room to stand in front of him and takes his hands in hers.

"Get some sleep, Sarge," she says, squeezing his hands in tandem before dropping them.

"Goodnight, Jo," Bucky returns.

_____

Bucky lays on Jo's couch in the dark beneath blankets that smell like laundry detergent. He wishes they smelled like her. He unlocks his phone and looks up the distance between New Orleans and Brooklyn. Just over thirteen hundred miles. He sighs and drops his phone onto the coffee table before closing his eyes and reliving each kiss as he falls asleep.

On the other side of the wall, Jo falls across her bed, deflated. She likes this guy. She wants him — painfully so. But leave it to her to fall for the one guy in her bar who lives half-way across the country.

_____

next chapter

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes romance #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff

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sintheyokai · 3 years

Text

No Father of Mine (Part 2)

[Part 1]

**for additional information, Arabella is originally French living with her found family in Mexico and she's multilingual. Translated French will be italicized and translated Spanish will be bolded, unless presumed otherwise. This is pre-Belphrelease.

Arabella is many things- an assassin, an actress, a spy, all of which require a mask she's worn since childhood. All of which, as she learned in her previous home, require a heart of stone. Because of this, Arabella does not see herself as kind, unworthy of praise where praise is due. Despite these thoughts, however, she is determined to pay off Mammon's debt, even if it means dragging in others to do so. While doing so, the topic of a name comes up, which brings along other, revealing topics.

"You got all that written down? It's a lot, I know, and your handwriting speed isn't exactly the fastest... You've been taking your medicine for that, right?" The demons watched as Arabella began pacing the room, on the phone with the third person so far.

"Still can't believe she's been hiding the fact she's multilingual." Asmodeus sighed, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I find it absolutely sexy when someone speaks in another language."

"Asmo, quiet." Satan ordered, "I can't hear her."

"Okay, okay... Yes I spoke with Charlotte, Ji-yoo and Bibi, they'll be... No! Goodness no, of course I didn't force them to give up more than necessary, the latter are planning their wedding for all sakes! Charlotte will be giving the same as I am giving, and the soon-to-be newlyweds are giving the same between the two of them, totaling to about 250 million. That leaves 750 million between the three of you. Can you handle it?"

There was silence for a bit longer before a small laugh left Arabella as she sat down on the ottoman.

"Okay... Thank you... I'll send my portion of money to you all and we can go from there. I love you too Abuelita... Tell Chime and Lilith I said hi... Bye."

Six spines straightened and tensed, eyes widening as she hung up.

"Lilith?" Beelzebub was the first to speak, Arabella's head snapping towards the brothers.

"Ah, yes. That's my sister. Not by blood, mind you, I was adopted into the family while she has been a part of it for a long time. She's an angel, you see."

Blood ran cold.

"Didn't you specifically say you weren't Christian?" Mammon asked, remembering an old conversation.

"I'm not. No one in my family is. Lilith used to be, but she decided to join us in Aztec worship."

"Isn't that really bloody and violent? I'd never take you for the type." Asmodeus failed to hide the frown that spread across his face.

"I wouldn't say so much as you think. Besides, I work in a profession where the deceased are common. And even without the bodies, we find the gods are seemingly content with sacrificed animals- the larger the better. Even so, regardless of sacrifice, when I call upon the gods of Aztec religion, they actually answer."

"I'm curious," Satan mused, "What lead you to worship nearly forgotten gods as opposed to the one a majority praises? And how did you get your supposed angel of a sister to join you?"

There was a still silence as Arabella slowly got up and approached the fireplace, staring into the golden flames that cracked and sparked on occasion.

"To answer your second question... I believe she realized she was abandoned."

She paused, and hearing no questions, she continued, fidgeting with her fingers.

"Lilith has very vague memories of her past, and the most prominent of them all is appearing amongst a small Aztec settlement, barely conscious, in a ray of light that slowly diminished. Most of the other memories she has are fleeting flashbacks of faces she says she cannot remember, but they all look familiar. 'I am above the clouds!' she would tell me, 'It's gorgeous, and yet... I feel as if I no longer belong.' Everyone in the family came to a mutual agreement," she turned back towards the brothers, all of them still in anticipation, "That wherever she had been before, this God she praised before she fell, it no longer loved her, He no longer loved her, and thus she needed to cut the painful memories of those places. She's been doing wonderfully so far too. She curses and despises the 'Almighty Father' she grew up with. She hates him immensely, as does my Abuelita, my brother-in-law, and me."

She sat down again, returning her attention to the fireplace, seeming to lose focus on all else around her.

"As for why we hate him, well... We do not respect the God of Christianity. We do not bow to a God the holds other by their necks and says 'Worship me, fear me, respect me, lest you be damned by my hand." She paused, hands fidgeting and grip tightening on her legs and notebook, "My brother in law is a literal demon. He does not respect God out of spite. My Abuelita had it taught in her from generations past, and does not agree with aspects of the bible. She knows things about Lilith that only we as a family know, things that only further our hatred. As for me... I have had things happen to me that I know now I did not deserve. A hell placed on me that I wasn't released from for years."

Her legs were now bleeding from the pressure of her nails digging deep into her skin.

"Where was He when I called? Why did I have to endure what I did for years when He is supposedly an all loving and caring God? Those I knew before do not deserve love. They do not deserve forgiveness. The new family I am a part of, however, showed me that the Aztec gods answer. They listen. They do not stand by and hold you by a chain- put you through a living hell while proclaiming that they love you. With each of our stories, each of our hardships and thoughts, we have each decided unanimously on one thing, one thing we still agree on to this day and will agree on forevermore."

She stood up again, this time approaching the window, seldom flinching with the blood dripping down her legs. When she reached the sill, she gripped it with such strength, such ferocity, it creaked and nearly bent from the force.

"If God is so willing to kill His children simply because of 'fate', so willing to watch the world burn and only cause little miracles that barely contribute to the main problem, He is no God. He's a tyrant grasping at the puppet strings of others to keep power." she turned to the eldest, her eyes dead and cold, a scowl etched into her features, "If God has no regrets about tossing his own son, his dearest Lucifer, out of Heaven for only feeding the curiosity of the humanity he formed in his image, and still refuses to forgive him? I do not want that God's praise upon my lips. He is no loving God. He is an abuser who, upon realizing he was losing his power, tossed his children out of their home and said 'Be damned, for you no longer blindly worship me.' I do not want that God's practice upon my lips. I refuse to worship an abuser. I refuse to simply please a tyrant. I would never call this God 'Father'..."

For He is no Father of mine.

************************

And with that, No Father of Mine is finished! I’m really happy with how this particular story came out, and I actually finished it for once! Please reblog if you can, I would really appreciate it, and if you can, tell me if you enjoyed this little tidbit I thought of at 3 in the morning after being awoken for no reason.

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harryspet · 4 years

Text

rogue angel [2] bucky barnes

[Warnings] darky bucky barnes x reader, noncon forced aged regression, daddy bucky, dd lg dynamic, ab dl dynamic, very light bondage, drugging, angst

A/N: I got a wayyy better response on the first chapter than I expected! Thank you all so much for reading! I guess I would call this chapter more of a filler with the reader just adjusting to her new life.

In which someone actually starts to care for you.

series masterlist

word count: 2.9k

You were strapped to a table, serums of their making pumping into your body, a contraption attached to your head designed to send electric waves through your skin. You screamed for hours. Why didn’t you stop screaming? It never helped. It never made them stop the pain. Perhaps it was because your mind was so empty.

You sat up straight, startled, at the memory. That’s when you realized Bucky’s hands were undoing the gag around your mouth, “I’ve got ya, angel,” You heard him say, finally able to close your lips together. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d carried you upstairs and ran a bath for you until you were actually sitting in the tub.

It wasn’t the being naked that frightened you, it was the soothing hand on your back and fingers rubbing soap into your skin. The traumatizing memory had taken you away for a moment but now you were back in reality, where something even worse was happening.

You had wet yourself in front of him and, like you were a child, he had cleaned you up. You couldn’t remember what it was like to be a child, you only knew what they had taught you about youth. In your opinion, the milestones seemed a bit boring, something you didn’t mind skipping. What use would pink overalls and bubble baths be to Hydra?

It wasn’t like you had much choice when Bucky brought the washcloth between your legs, you had much control over them as a baby doe.

“Is your arm waterproof?” You asked, your curiosity striking you.

Bucky chuckled, “For the most part, yes, but I try not to shower with it.” You nodded and had a feeling that Bucky was just happy that you were interacting with him in any capacity.

“What … what are you going to do to me here?” There had to be other reasons why he was keeping you in the middle of nowhere.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.”

That wouldn’t be your name. No matter how much he said it, it would never belong to you.

“But you want to turn me against them? Like Steve Rogers did to you?” Bucky pressed the cloth against your shoulder, swiping down your arm. The soap smelled like warm vanilla and, you wouldn’t admit it, but you liked it.

“Steve and I already had an emotional connection, we were friends. That’s what helped me realize their lies. You don’t have any ties so I thought I could help build you one, with me.”

With him. As your Daddy.

Maybe you could pretend, you thought. As soon as his guard was down, you could make a move, “I’ve never needed anyone.”

“It’s not a bad thing to need someone,” Bucky spoke earnestly but you only rolled your eyes.

You didn’t protest when he lifted you from the tub or when he held your body as he dried every inch of your skin. Your teeth were gritted the entire time but your current plan was to comply and cause him to let his guard down. Even Bucky seemed surprised that you weren’t fighting him.

He carried you from the bathroom into your “new room” which you didn’t get a chance to fully take in before. The walls and the furniture were both white but everything else seemed to be full of pastels. There was a bed fit with light pink sheets, mint green pillows, and lots of stuffed animals. A toy chest sat beneath the window and a giant, oversized rabbit sat right next to it.

It was eerily calm in the room and you could see the last shreds of sunlight coming in through the white curtains on the windows. He set you gently on the twin bed and you watched as he crossed the plush white carpet towards a large white armoire. Your eyes widened as it opened, revealing a rainbow assortment of clothes.

You took a wild guess and assumed they were all in your size. How long had he been planning this?

“What’s your favorite color, angel?” You met his blue eyes and found a soft expression on his face. You thought for a moment before shrugging. You hadn’t thought about it nor did you think it really mattered. He continued, “Hmmm, unicorns or spaceships?”

He held out the options for you to see and you winced, “Why can’t I wear normal clothes?”

“You’re too small for big girl clothes,” He spoke, making the decision for you. Spaceships it was.

“I am a-” You stopped yourself. You could do it, you told yourself.

You let him slip the onesie over your head which was white and had little planets and spaceships printed on it. He urged you to lay down flat and that was when he reached into a drawer beneath a bed. As soon as you saw it, your plan went out the window, “No, no, I’m not wearing that!” You stared at the pink pull-up he’d grabbed, “I’m not a baby, you fu-”

He pinned your hands down above your head and you desperately tried to move your legs, “What if you have another accident?” He continued, slipping one of your feet into one of the holes.

“Please,” Bucky paused, and even you hadn’t expected the word to leave your mouth, “I won’t have another one.”

“Say ‘Please, Daddy’” You scowled at him, “It’s hard for me to listen when you don’t address me properly, angel.”

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before swallowing the small shred of pride you had left, “P-Please … D-Daddy,” You stuttered out.

Bucky smiled, the hand that wasn’t pinning your arm was rubbing your legs soothingly, “Good girl, angel, now ask Daddy for what you want. Use your big girl words.”

“Can I … Can I please wear regular-”

“Big girl panties,” He interjected, correcting you.

You gritted your teeth, “Can I please wear big girl panties ... “ He waited patiently, knowing the word was on the tip of your tongue, “Daddy?”

Bucky smirked, loving the name on your lips, “How about this, angel?” You struggled as he continued to slide it on you, “If you eat all of your dinner and you keep this dry all night, I’ll let you wear big girl panties. I’ll even let you pick the pair.”

Clearly, he hadn’t completely gotten rid of his sadistic side when he left Hydra. You felt that as soon as he buttoned the onesie closed.

You hated him but you had to admit he was smart. You couldn’t refuse to eat or you’d risk further embarrassment tomorrow. Tomorrow. It was starting to sink in that you’d be here for a while.

After he’d put the clothes on you, he’d brushed out your hair, tying it back for you. His movements were a little clumsy but you could feel his happiness as he accomplished each task. It seemed like he had been practicing.

He was even more excited to present you with a small, bear plushie that he thought would bring you comfort.

He brought you down to the living room, setting you on the plush couch before ordering you to sit still while he went to retrieve something. Something he wanted to show you. As he walked out of the room, you looked around, noting the coziness of the room but also the locks on every window.

You were mapping it out when suddenly heard the subtle sound of nails scratching against the floor. A dog ran into the room, jumping onto the couch and attacking you with a lick to the face, “Y/N, meet Archer,” You were unsure of how to interact with the creature for a moment until you decided to brush behind his ears. The husky dog seemed to like it, nuzzling further into you.

You couldn’t remember ever petting a dog before and you had no idea they could be so … friendly. Archer seemed to already love you as he continuously lapped at your face.

Bucky could see you letting your wall down and, deciding not to interrupt that, he left to start on dinner. He figured Archer would keep you busy and also let him know if you tried to escape.

When dinner was almost read, Bucky walked back into the living room to find you sitting on the living room carpet, playing tug of war with the stuffed animal. Archer easily ripped off the bear’s head and you giggled … Bucky actually heard you giggle.

“Bad dog, Archie,” He scolded the dog as Archer dropped the bear’s head into Bucky’s hand obediently, “We don’t chew on Y/N’s toys.”

“No, look, he likes it!” You protested, insisting that Archer get to destroy the rest of the toy, handing archer the rest of the bear. You clapped your hands as Archer ran around the living room, shaking it in his mouth.

Bucky sighed, figuring he could try to tame an assassin but he couldn’t stop her from liking to watch things be dismembered.

“Alright, dinner time,” Bucky lifted you from the carpet, carrying you into the kitchen, Archer in tow. He helped you wash your hands before sitting you down in your seat at the dining table. You were like a little doll, helpless but it didn’t seem like Bucky mined doing every little thing for you.

You and Bucky were eating the same meal but his plate looked vastly different than yours. Your plate was flower printed and was separated into sections. Your steak was cut up into already tiny pieces and your fork was barely sharp enough to pick up your food. And then there was the dreaded sippy cup that he expected you to drink from.

You held your fork, staring at the plate as Bucky started to cut his own steak, “Big girl panties,” Bucky winked, bringing a piece of steak to his mouth, “Remember? You have to eat all of it. I know you’re starving.”

Whatever leverage Bucky he could get, he used. He had to get her used to eating regularly and not using it as a way to protest.

You poked at your broccoli before bringing a piece to your mouth, “Good job, angel,” He praised you as you continued to eat. You were starving and this is exactly what your body was craving. You finished your plate faster than either of you expected and Bucky asked, “Do you want more?”

You immediately shook your head even though it was far from the truth.

Bucky could tell you were lying and you flashed him a look of surprise as he slid the rest of his food onto your plate, cutting up the steak into small pieces for you, “Eat some more,” He told you and you lifted your fork again.

It confused you, why he even cared about you. No matter how sinister his intentions might be, you found it was strange that he showed you even a little bit of compassion.

Bucky watched you as you finished the rest of the food and he was satisfied when you cleaned your plate again. Thinking about the condition he found you in, he figured that you hadn’t been eating much since you were forced to abandon Hydra.

He understood the mental battle you were going through right now and he was expecting it would be a while before you slipped into little space but he’d be patient.

Bucky watched from the doorway as you played with Archie on the floor of your bedroom. You seemed to already have him better trained than Bucky ever did. Bucky noticed the less he interfered, the more you seemed to slip into things. He even noticed you sipping at your sippy cup and, as your actions grew lazier, he knew the sedative was kicking in.

He had to get you a sleeping schedule as well. You’d fall into things better with patterns. Consistency was another thing that made humans feel safe.

Your eyes felt heavy as you laid down on the carpet. Everything in this house was so … soft. Archie pranced over to you, licking at your chin and you pushed him away, a lazy grin on your face.

You felt Bucky’s arms around you before you even noticed he had approached you, “I think it’s bedtime, princess,” Princess, that was a new one.

“I’m not tired,” You moaned, sleepily, as he scooped you into his arm, “Archie save me … I’m being taken.”

Bucky chuckled, setting you down into the bed, and pulling a blanket over you, “It’s Archie’s bedtime too,” Bucky spoke softly, “Why don’t you say goodnight?”

You watched as she raised her hand to wave at the dog sitting idly by, “N-Night Archie,” Bucky’s heart warmed at the sight, noting how cute you were when you were tired. Bucky whistled and the dog pranced out of the room, his tail wagging.

“He’ll be here in the morning,” Bucky assured you, sitting down at the edge of the bed. His hands touched your hair, soothing brushing it back with his fingers. Your eyes were already closed, a stuffed giraffe tucked into you.

“What … about … you?”

“I’ll be here too, angel,” With that, she seemed to drift off into sleep.

You awoke to sunlight on your face and the sound of birds chirping. For a moment, you looked around and felt safe … until the panic settled in. You started to move your legs, realizing you could finally move them a bit but, as you pulled the blanket off, you saw a cuff wrapped around your right leg.

You investigated, finding it attached to a chain that seemed to be connected to the bed itself. You pulled at it with all the strength you could muster and nothing. It was a powerful magnet just like that gag he had put on you.

You had fallen asleep? You couldn’t think about it that long as Bucky appeared, opening the door slowly. Maybe there was some type of camera in here that was tracking your movements for him. You didn’t put it past him.

“Good morning, princess,” He greeted you and you noted his dark t-shirt and basketball shorts. You didn’t think he’d look normal in clothes typical for relaxing. He walked over, reaching down to undo the restraint but he paused, “Don’t you have something to say to Daddy?”

Great, you thought, sighing, “Good morning, Daddy,” Bucky imagined a point in the future where you spoke words like that enthusiastically. With that small sign of submission, Bucky undid the restraint and you noted he didn’t even use a special key. Maybe it had something to do with his arm?

“Sleep well?” You nodded though you knew that was probably due to whatever he had put in your drink, “It’s nice out so I was thinking we’d go out after breakfast, what do you think?”

“Go where?” You raised an eyebrow. He only narrowed his eyes at you, expecting you to add a formality, “Go where Daddy?” You corrected yourself, a fake smile on your face.

“Down by the lake, for a picnic,” How romantic, you thought, wanting to roll your eyes, “What would you like to wear, angel?”

“Something normal preferably,” You were long overdue for a spanking, Bucky thought. He had to remind himself that it was only your first day here and there’d probably be lots of punishments in your future.

“I thought you wanted those big girl panties... maybe you’ve gotten used to you little girl ones?” You paused, unwilling to admit that you had forgotten about them.

A staring contest ensued as he waited for you to back down and, as he expected, you did, “I like the color red … Daddy.”

Bucky was satisfied and you were glad you were getting a little bit of your womanhood back. You hadn’t even noticed how subtle he was with his system of rewards and punishments. With every good thing you did, he praised you and when you made snarky comments he threatened to put the pampers back on you.

He brought you to the bathroom to relieve yourself, very awkwardly, and to brush your teeth. After, he picked out a red gingham dress whose skirt barely covered your bottom and allowed your bubblegum pink underwear to peak out beneath it. He matched it with a pair of black mary jane shoes and, as a cherry on top, he tied a red bow into your hair.

You sat on the bathroom counter, watching him as he did his work. Looking at his face, you could tell he liked dressing you up, and, although you didn’t hate the dress, you didn’t like the unfamiliarity of it. You’d never dressed like this before and it made you feel a little insecure which made you even more frustrated.

You looked back into the mirror and your eyes widened. You had never looked so … feminine. Your face had even gained some color and you had to poke your face to make sure it was real, “You look beautiful, angel,” Bucky’s words took you back. You’d never heard that from someone other than the old men you were forced to flirt with on missions.

You shook your head, embarrassed, but Bucky continued, “You do.”

You looked at him, trying to read his blue eyes, and you froze as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Never had someone done that either, “You’re heaven-sent, I’m sure of it. You’ve just been lost for a little while, that’s all.”

You felt something foreign, like that thing inside your chest was finally beating.

Send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! If there’s something you want to see in this series, I’m open to ideas, just send me an ask! Hope you enjoyed!

#dark fic #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #bucky fluff #dark bucky x reader #winter soldier #marvel #marvel smut #dark marvel #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader #mcu smut #avengers x y/n #florence pugh

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shedobewritingalittle · 4 years

Text

Do I Wanna Know? (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: cursing, unprotected sex (don’t want gunk? Wrap your junk)

Summary: You and Bucky spend a night together.

You hated ending up here. You really did.

Pushed up against his door, your dress bunched up around your hips. Legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked together at the small of his back. Your heels were on the floor, dropped immediately when your crossed over the threshold of his bedroom. His mouth on your neck, your jaw, your chest-all at once. His metal hand was gripping your bare thigh while the other slid up your abdomen and cupped your breast through your dress. Cupped was too nice of a word for what he was doing but God, it felt great.

"Fuck, Bucky." You breathed out, arching into his hand. Eyes flickered shut as he sucked on that little spot on your neck he knew all too well. Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair, tugging him away from your skin for a moment so you could crash your lips against his. He tasted like whiskey and that mead Thor has brought around.

"You look so fucking beautiful in this." He murmured against your lips and you smiled. You wondered if he knew that you bought this yellow sundress just on the off chance that he'd like the way you'd look in it.

In the moment, it always seemed like a good idea.

Your hands slipped from his hair to quickly unbutton his shirt, your fingers surprisingly nimble and quick even though you had more than a few drinks in your system. Barnes deepened the kiss, moaning into your mouth as you raked your nails down his chest. His hand slipped from your breast, slipping down and behind you. Bucky gripped your ass as he picked you up, carrying you a few more feet to his bed. Pulling away from your lips only to set you down. You looked up at the super soldier standing over you, illuminated only by the light streaming through the windows from the city outside. Bucky moved to sit down on the leather chair he had in his room, not bothering to readjust himself in his pants. You knew what he wanted.

You promised yourself that this would be the last time. But you always told yourself that this time would be the last time.

There was never a last time.

Standing on slightly shakily legs, you kept your eyes on the ex-assassin as you reached down and grabbed ahold of the hem of your yellow sundress. You pulled it up and over your head, standing in front of him in nothing but the baby pink lace panties that you knew all too well that he loved. Bucky leaned back in the chair, patting his thigh. Your legs carried you over to him until you sank down on his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. His flesh hand moved to rest on your ass while his vibranium one slipped in between your thighs, making you gasp. You rolled your hips forward, which in turn made him groan.

You two hated each other. Couldn't stand each other. Anytime you were in a room together for longer than twenty minutes, insults would be thrown about and fight would surely ensue. You couldn't stand Bucky Barnes and your teammates knew this. Bucky disliked you as soon as Steve introduced you to him. Everything you did aggravated him. You laughed a little too loud, smiled a little too big, talked a little too much. What pissed him off the most was that you were too fucking pretty and he was always focused on you, never able to let his eyes stray for more than a few minutes.

"So fucking pretty." Bucky says in a low, low voice that just went straight to your core. His metal fingers slipped under the pink lace, his index finger immediately seeking your clit. You inhaled sharply, mouth falling open. His finger moved down to coat itself in you before moving back to your clit. You hated how he started to trace the letter "B" on your clit. Hated how good it felt. Bucky grins as he tells you, "Soaking wet. All for me, doll?"

"Bucky please." You beg. God, you hated the fact you were fucking begging Bucky Barnes for more. He just fucking smirks at you.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N." Bucky orders and in any other situation, you'd feel the need the slap him across his face, but not now. He moves his finger a little faster.

"You. I need you." You moan as you tug on his hair, rocking against his hand. Bucky's nails dig into the flesh of your ass, watching as you as you move on his lap. You whine softly when he pulls his hand away from you. Bucky stood, lifting you up with him and laid you back down on the bed. He shed his button down, then took off his white tank top underneath. You watched, leaning back on your hands, as he took off his belt, kicked off his shoes.

"What? You like what you see?" Bucky questions and you grin, eyes landing on the noticeable bulge in his pants.

"Yeah, something like that." You respond as he drops his pants, stepping out of them.

Sometimes it was just a quick fuck, full of anger and hatred. Nails digging into skin, marks being left where they can be hidden. Bruises on his skin and yours. After a bad mission, it'd be slower. Wasn't full of love-God, no. You two would just take your time. Then there were times like this. Both of you having a nice little buzz going on, made everything seem different. Like the two of you weren't at each other's throat at every given moment.

His boxers hit the floor next, his socks are soon tossed in opposite directions. Bucky's hands hook underneath the back of your knees, pulling you forward, toward him. You laugh, honestly laugh at his actions. His fingers slip under the band of your panties, rolling them down your legs and tossing him over his shoulder.

"You don't know what you do to me, doll." He groans as you spread your legs for him. Bucky climbs onto the bed, his metal hand sliding your abdomen and moving to palm at your breast.

"I have some inkling." You groan, which makes Bucky grin.

Tonight it had been glances at the party when the two of you thought no one was looking. It was you swinging your hips a little more when you thought he was looking. Bucky's hand moving to squeeze your ass when he leaned over you to grab the drink he left at the bar. You pressing your ass against him when you squeezed by him. He was watching you when you were dancing with Natasha and you watched him as he was talking with Sam and Steve. Then the signals that you two had to indicate where tonight was going to leading.

Bucky presses his lips against yours, his hand moving to your hip. You wrapped your leg around his waist, cupping his cheek as you kissed him back. He rocked his hips against yours, groaning into your mouth.

"Need you, Bucky. Please." You pleaded into his mouth as he starts to trail kisses down your jaw. The scruff covering his jaw scratched at your sensitive skin.

"Patience, doll." The super solider murmurs against your neck, smiling. You roll your eyes, annoyed that he was going to take his time tonight. He continues to kiss down down your neck until he gets to your chest. Right there, where he is sure your shirt will cover, he sinks his teeth into your sensitive flesh. You tug hard on his hair, toes curling.

Bucky knew that Steve had the biggest crush on you. Hell, he knew that the kid had a huge crush on you. Steve would always talk Bucky's ear off about you. He wouldn't shut up about you. Bucky hated it, hated that his best friend was practically in love with you and here Bucky was, leaving marks all over your chest where no one would be able to see them. He was a shitty friend for continuing to have this little thing with you, especially knowing how his best friend felt.

"Fuck, Bucky." You cried out softly as he sucked at your nipple. His hand slips back in between your legs, slipping in between your folds.

"Really got you all riled up, don't I?" He looks up at you, slipping two vibranium fingers inside of you. You can't stop the noises that fall from your lips as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

"Barnes, please-Fuck." You groan, throwing your head back against that stupid grey comforter. He looks down, watching as his black fingers disappear inside of you over and over and over.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N." Bucky's eyes are on you again and you look at him. You wish you could glare at him, but he's making you feel too good.

"Need you. Need your cock." You gasp out as he curls his fingers in such a way to get that spot deep inside of you. He loves the way your pretty little mouth says such foul words. Bucky pulls his fingers out and before you could even complain, he slides in slowly. Moans fall from both of your lips and you watch as he licks his black and gold fingers clean.

You hated how much you loved this, how much you loved being around him. It was so much different when it was just the two of you. His kisses always seemed a little sweeter when more time passed between them. Only three weeks had passed between your previous mistake and now and you hated to say it, but you missed him. You had missed him-not the sex-him. It terrified you.

"You always feel so fucking good, baby." Words of praise flow easily out of Bucky's mouth as he fills you completely. He holds himself up with his metal hand as you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together. You rolled your hips against his just as he leans down to capture your lips with his. Your fingers entangle themselves in his long hair, holding him close as he starts to move.

"Fuck Bucky." You moan out, tilting your head back slightly. Eyes fluttering shut as Bucky litters kisses all over your jaw. You hold onto him as his hips snap into yours a little faster. One of your hands grips his flesh shoulder tightly, your other hand moving to hold onto his neck. Your nails dig crescent shapes into skin.

His hand is gripping your hip in a way that will surely leave bruises. There is still green and yellow bruises from the last tryst in the same spot. The marks on your chest from last time have already been replaced by the ones he made tonight. Marks that'll remind you of tonight every time you look in a mirror, that'll remind you of him. Bucky doesn't know but you love every single mark he leaves on your skin.

You're not his. Bucky knows that. Bucky knows that you don't belong to him, that what you have isn't a real relationship. You guys aren't even friends but you have this thing together. God, the super soldier doesn't know that to call what the two of you have together. All he knows is that he definitely doesn't want you to be with anyone else.

"You're so beautiful like this. Always so fuckin' pretty." Bucky tells you, his lips against the column of your neck. He continues to quicken his pace, rolling his hips into you. The movement was driving you insane. You just wanted more, more of everything, more of him. Noises pour out of your mouth, which only spurs him on.

"You feel so good." You cry out, eyes opening to look at him as Bucky pulls away from your neck. He's pushing you towards your end. His metal hand moves from holding himself up, a black and gold thumb swiping across your rosy lips. Bucky was looking down at you with something in his eyes. You couldn't quite place it, but it was different from all the other looks he gave you. He slams into you a little harder, hitting that spot deep inside of you that made almost unholy sounds come from deep inside. You were getting close and it didn’t help that his hand moved down in between the two of you, seeking out your clit.

“Let go for me, Y/N.” He all but commands as he circles that bundle of nerves. Your toes curl at his efforts. Bucky doesn’t stop driving into you.

“Oh fuck-Bucky!” You shout out as Bucky sends you toppling off your edge and into pure euphoria. It’s like every nerve ending is on fire, but you can still feel Bucky twitch inside of you. His hips were seemingly unstoppable and that only heightens your orgasm.

“F-Fuck, Y/N. I’m close.” He groans out, which sounds like music to your ears. You tug on his hair hard, just the way he likes. Bucky’s finger doesn’t stop moving.

“Come on, soldier. Cum for me.” You purr, his movements quickening and becoming sloppy. Your nails rake down his back, surely leaving lines to hide tomorrow. Moans keep slipping out of both of your mouths as you both chase your ends.

“Fuck!” Bucky cries out loudly, snapping his hips into you one last time before he paints your walls. That and the fact he hasn’t abandoned your sensitive clit is more than enough to send you toppling over once again.

“Bucky!” You can’t help but scream out and God, Bucky loves the way you scream his name. Bucky slows his movement, riding the two of you through your orgasms. Both of you are panting and he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. Your heart was racing in your chest as you loosened your grip on his hair. Bucky gave you a lopsided smile.

“You goin’ to be able to walk tomorrow, princess?” He teases as he tries to catch his breath. You roll your eyes, slapping his shoulder.

Bucky wished he could always have this thing with you. This joking type of thing that you two get post-coitus. He loves it, loves that you can actually stand him. But you don’t want a relationship with him. You deserve way more than that. He was a shitty person who did shitty things and you didn’t deserve that. You deserved someone like Steve, someone who could give you anything you wanted.

“Oh fuck off, Barnes. I’ll smash in your kneecaps, old man.” You reply, a smile stretching across your face. Bucky couldn’t stop himself from smiling right back at you. He wrapped his arm around you, holding you close as he moved so the two of you were resting on your sides.

You wished there could be more moments like this, times where you felt so close to Bucky. But there wouldn’t be, there’d just be another time when you’d tell yourself that this was the last time.

#bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes/reader #avengers #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

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arshipweek · 3 years

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AR Ship Week - Fanwork Recs

Banner credit

This is the fourth and last weekly post in the lead up to Alex Rider Ship Week. Only 1 week to go!

This week we’ve got a selection of shippy fanwork recs submitted by members of the AR fandom. Enjoy and hope to see you next week!

**Please note that I haven’t listed all the details for the fics so take care to read the tags on AO3 before diving in!

Yassen/Alex

Our Endless Numbered Days by Galimau Just your run of the mill heartwarming look at the quiet beats of Alex and Yassen's relationship...after the apocalypse. Soft and sweet this fic focuses on the very still and quiet moments of two men at the end times trying to hold onto the things that bring them joy. It's an intimate view of what Alex and Yassen's life could be like of all their cares were quite literally wiped away - excellent world building and writing make this a must read.

Yalex art by Ireliss Alex and Yassen in a lake! Everything about this picture is perfect - the light, the colours, the feeling of stillness... Probably the most beautiful picture of Alex and Yassen I've ever seen.

Sun Poisoning by fElBiTeR Angsty, beautiful, slowburn soulmate fic with a twist on the usual tropes and gorgeous imagery

Twisting, Turning, Tumbling by ShiruyTheSecond A glacially slow burn, road trip au, and sick fic all mashed into one fic, in non-chronological order based on 100 themes. I'd say this was one of the gateway fics into Yalex for me; there's nothing like reading a longfic you thought was gen and wishing it were slash, only for the realization to hit you in the face like a brick 50 something chapters later. Alex is on the run for a variety of reasons after a mission for MI6 goes spectacularly wrong, so he surprisingly finds himself leaning on Yassen for help, experincing whumpage along the way. Absolutely delicious.

Specific Performance by BurntWhisper Alex is a good spy, good enough that SCORPIA has tasked Yassen with killing him. Yassen can't do that but he can give Alex a very...enthusiastic going away present even Alex hasn't been a very good boy. It's a fun look at Alex and Yassen's first fling with callbacks to the original gen fic. That hits every perfect note and hits a few other things too.

Interlude by Suzie_Shooter Incredibly soft and fluffly Yalex that ends with an unexpected top!Alex and bath sex. Will absolutely warm your heart the way it does mine every time I read this fic.

Medicine by Suzie_Shooter The other fic in response to the prompt of "Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth" except this one is praise kink while the other is humiliation kink! Specifically focused on a smoking hot blowjob and Alex's reluctance turned enthusiam, plus, there's a second chapter, just in case one dose of the antidote isn't enough.

One Year by BurntWhisper The slowest of slow burns featuring Alex and Yassen on the run from MI6, SCORPIA and their own feelings. Covering 3 months of their life on the run this fic features action as well as the slow, quiet moments where the budding relationship can truly shine through and behind it all the intelligence world continues to grind on threatening to take their happiness with it. It's a beautiful fic with strong, detailed writing and the emotional weight that it deserves.

Midnight Smoke by Hijja If you're in the mood for darker fics with plenty of Yassen hurting Alex complete with violence and heavy dubcon, Hijja has you covered. This particular fic features a mission-type premise with Alex being sent to investigate a spate of teen abductions only to be captured. Yassen is there, and he has his own goals...

Hello Alex by anonymous Fanart: a reunion hug between Yassen and Alex.

Face The Truth by capeofstorm Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth. Yassen is absolutely a man to take advantage. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Lights Out by Suzie_Shooter Yassen and Alex left tradecraft behind for a new life in the Greek islands. Ten years on, their relationship is still going strong and they've become island locals, the proprietors of a sailing club and a windsurfing business. Their idyllic life is disrupted by a new threat that wants them dead. I just love the premise of Yalex riding off into the sunset and not looking back. This fic not only has suspense, action, hot sex, and the intimacy borne of ten years...but once you're done, there are two excellent sequels and a prequel to lap up!

Villa in the Sun by BoldAsBrass A multi-chapter story within a story as Yassen and Alex keep in touch over the phone through a tale of a Russian bodyguard's encounters with a young English man. This is so cleverly done and beautifully written; I could re-read it and re-read it (in fact, that's exactly what I've done).

Sting in the Tail by Suzie_Shooter With the world hanging in the balance, MI6 presses an imprisoned Yassen into service. They use Alex to convince him, but also a nasty "sting in the tail" incentive to guarantee results. A thrilling Yalex mission!fic where Yassen and Alex forge their trust in each other by facing mortal danger and saving the world together. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, eating up the slow burn and wondering how on earth they were going to succeed with all the obstacles Scorpia and MI6 threw in their way.

Rarely Pure And Never Simple by fElBiTeR Non-con > dub-con > fuck-yes-con speedrun. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Just Say I Do by Nanimok I'm possibly biased because this was written for me, but 'woke up married' is a great trope and this is both snarky and adorable. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Open Invitation by Suzie_Shooter After Ian's death in TV 'verse, fifteen-year-old Alex is living alone in a depressive, self-destructive spiral. He realizes someone is watching him at home...and decides to give them something more compelling to watch. I am squicked out by creepers, but the characterizations tackle the thorny elements head-on: Yassen's mixed feelings and understated pursuit tactics are 100% believable, as is Alex's volatility; he's alternately confused, provocative, and defiant. Exhibit A:“Does that make you a victim, or a slut?” The question came casually, but it had the unexpected sting of a slap. Alex blinked. “What, I can’t be both?” he countered after a second. Plot ensues, because how can a relationship possibly form from such a premise? Mind the tags (you might trip into your next kink because the sex is mind-blowingly hot).

Flirting with Danger by BoldAsBrass Basically THE gateway fic into Yalex for me - short and sweet, snappy narration and dialogue, a sleekly dangerous Yassen and Alex who might be a skilled, pragmatic adult but quickly realises he's in over his head. Sprinkle in a bit of dubcon and scorching hot writing and you get this perfect fic.

Burning a Dead Man's Fingertips by GreenQueenofClubs Multichapter slow burn, MI6!Yassen AU - an excellent premise done extremely well and feels fresh and new, balancing mission-style fic with character development! The dynamic between Yassen and Alex is somewhat different here compared to most Yalex fics as they don't meet until Alex is an adult; a really intriguing glimpse into what could have been...

A Little Pat Down by Nanimok Airport security can be frustrating at the best of times but couple it with being edged like none other by an assassin turned security guard and it can really be a pain in the ass. A filthy but extremely well written premise. Crack taken seriously is this author's strong suit so not a single one of their works will steer you wrong.

Yalex Ballet AU by anonymous Yalex ballet AU with absolutely gorgeous imagery and slow burn. Fluid prose and in the background, the shadows of past histories and things unsaid.

Gentleman's Agreement by Valaks Yassen and Alex have a "gentleman's agreement" for handling their business in the field. No one ever said anything about parent-teacher conferences. Claims to be gen, but deserves a place on this list for subtle genius alone, because with lines like "Like a fine wine, Alex Rider was improving with age" and "How interesting that Alex Rider would be that interested in his hands", what are we supposed to think....? UST in all caps is the best description.

Salty the Sweat on my Fingertips by Galimau A fun little romp of Alex visiting Tom and having to call his overly protective boyfriend? because he's pregnant and everything hurts. Beautifully written, this fic explores the ending of Oceanbreeze7's Moonfish and follows the extremely creative monster biology to its logical conclusion of Alex getting knocked up.

Slipping Through My Fingers by Nanimok This kink meme fill hits in all the right places as we watch through the eyes of a very jealous Julius as Yassen gives Alex all the attention he needs. The writing is, as always, on point and the characterization of Julius gets absolutely nailed (almost as much as Alex). Julius/Alex, Yassen/Alex

Other

Miss Julia by DantesThird Very creepy and traumatic noncon but really believable with Julia Rothman's obsession with John Rider. Alex/Julia Rothman

gone loose inside the shell by cyanides Fantastic messed-up fic where Julius keeps fantasising about killing Alex, but then the fantasies take a different turn. The possessive 'If I can't have you no-one can' dynamic really encapsulates the ship for me, and the fic stuck in my mind afterwards. Alex/Julius

smoke haze by Ireliss Dubcon, gun kink. A really intriguing and quite dark exploration of a young Yassen's situation with Scorpia and his very complex relationship with Hunter. John/Yassen

Our Settling Bones by Galimau A multi-chapter slow burn focused on a former assassin who has lost everything...and Yassen Gregorovich. The tension is off the charts and the characerization is on point. Everything you could want from the rarest of pairs. John Wick/Yassen

Lemniscate by Ireliss A look at what awaits Yassen when he arrives back at Scorpia after killing Vladimir Sharkovsky. This is deliciously dark as well as being entirely plausible. The sensory descriptions are fantastic. Yassen/Julia Rothman

#alex rider #ARshipweek #yalex #....#.....#mod posts #recs

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okaywitheverything · 3 years

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Konoha X Reader ♡1

A/N: So I’ve been really inactive I know but its because I have a lot of tests coming up. Here is fun series I wrote long ago which is sort of everybody flirting with you in Konoha. Hope you like it. Here’s part one of three.

"Yeah, it would be a nice change of space. I've been cooped in one place for far too long I feel. I've always had a nick for travelling and exploring." You answered with an adorable smile on your face.

"Is that the only reason? Pardon me for questioning you but I need to be completely sure about approving your request to move here to Konoha. I can't take any duty of mine lightly."

"Nothing less would be expected of you Hokage-sama. You truly are as intellectual, perceptive and ingenious as people say."

The Third Hokage laughed lightly at this. "As flattered as I am dear, I am not cutting you any slack." He replied smugly.

"I'm an okay Jounin-level kunoichi that feels the urge to start anew. Oh come on, I'm not an assassin in disguise! I could have fooled you if I actually wanted to." You replied as serious you could, slightly staring at him to try and intimidate him.

Don't think it's working at all.

"I'm actually in a disguise right now."

That's seemed to have caught him off guard. You smirked a little. "You haven't even checked my ID yet. The photo it has right now, doesn't match my current self. Wait! Don’t peek! Let's make this interesting. You'll see my abilities as a ninja as well. What do you say?"

Tempting the Hokage was probably not a good idea, but you have never been one to shy away from risks.

"Oh I'm not doubting your ability of deception. Say what, that door leads to a bathroom. If you manage to amaze me with a different disguise that matches whatever is in your ID, I'll let you move here, no more questions asked." He said, propping on his elbows, leaning forward. This old man was surely fun, you had to give him that.

"Alright, give me five minutes."

You looked at your appearance right now. Really big dorky glasses that hid your beautiful features under its frame. A really tight braid with middle parting of your hair. You looked oh-so-nerdy right now. But only you knew that on the removal of these two things, your entire appearance did a one eighty degree. And that's what you intended to do as of right now.

You looked at yourself with awe in the mirror. You never bragged about your appearance or thought of yourself as superior to basically anyone.

But you weren't one to willingly drag yourself down, you remained confident with whatever you wore, whatever you had. Sure everyone had bad days, but to make a routine out of it? That was not you. Right now, your beautiful (h/c) tresses cascaded down your body to (whatever your hair length is).

Your cherry pink lips glossed more as you reapplied the lip balm. Your (favourite colour) blouse was the one thing that remained the same. You swapped your baggy pants with a similar (favourite colour) skirt that reached your mid thigh that matched your painted nails. You had removed your glasses already and replaced it with contacts. (Or just removed if you don't need contacts)You were thankful for all the accessories you kept in your (favourite colour) purse in case you needed to party anytime.

But you really outdid yourself by taking out matching heels from the bag and replacing your flats.

Guess the female purse is really a mystery.

You readied yourself and stepped out.

Go big or go home, right?

The Hokage looked up from some documents he was checking and Kami, you could have sworn you saw blood trickling down his nose. You instantly grew worried, was he having a seizure?

You then saw him frantically grabbing your folder and snatching out your ID. His widened eyes darted back and forth from the photo on the ID to your confused face.

"Are you going to say something?" You said after few minutes of silence.

"I think I need to check the bathroom to see if you swapped places with someone. As shocked as I am to admit this, I was totally not expecting that. Keeping my end of the deal, as you have truly amazed me, I can only hope this will help our undercover missions. Anyways, welcome to Konoha!" The Third replied with a grin, a narrow strip of blood still gushing down.

You responded with another charming smile of yours. However, before you could say something, the door abruptly opened revealing a large man with really long white hair and a lady close behind who had beautiful golden locks."Hokage-sama, did you hear about Oro- Oh! Hello there. I don't believe we have met. I'm Jiraiya, a renowned writer and appreciator of beauty and grace. And you seem just the kind of elegant lady that I was looking for."

The man started but changed his composure entirely when his eyes met yours mid sentence. You tilted your head in slight confusion and saw the lady behind him come ahead while smacking the back of his head. However, as soon as she saw you, a slight pink tinted her cheeks.

Maybe at the embarrassment of realising someone else's presence?You wondered.

"Hello I'm Tsunade. I haven't seen you around, you seem new." With pink cheeks, she put her hand forward which you gladly accepted giving her a small smile.

"Yes, I arrived here today. I'm (Your first name) (Your last name)." You replied.

You didn't realise at what point exactly did the white haired man had moved to the corner of the room during your conversation. You saw him squatted down, vigorously writing down something and mumbling incoherent words along the lines of 'new characters initials will be (your initials)'.

What surprised you was the river of blood gushing down his nose, blood almost thrice the amount you witnessed on Hokage's face earlier.

He seriously looked like he was about to pass out.

Is the weather here really this hot and cruel? Good thing I'm wearing a mini skirt right now.

You came out of your thoughts when you heard knuckles cracking quite loudly and saw Tsunade glaring at Jiraiya that he totally ignored as his eyes only travelled between your face and his book.

The Hokage, about whom you had completely forgotten until now stood beside Jiraiya, leaning to read what he wrote, giggling like a lovestruck teen.

"Is this how you are supposed to behave?!" Tsunade pulled Jiraiya up by his ear, and to be honest she even scared you. "And you sensei, supporting him like that?!" She continued and you praised her confidence and unwavering voice.

If you hadn't witnessed the scene, you would never believe she was talking to The Lord Third.

The Third sheepishly scratched his neck, embarrassment coating his cheeks. You felt you should excuse yourself before the situation escalated to another level. "If my request is approved, I'd like to look around the Village." You said moving towards the door. "Let me assist you with that. I know all the exclusive spots in the vill- Oww ow what?!" You heard Jiraiya exclaim from the corner.

"Have you forgotten about the important matters we came to discuss here? It's not like I'd rather stay here than show her pretty ass around but we have some duties." Tsunade said making you blush.

'Pretty ass' caught you off guard. Both the curse and the compliment.

You grabbed your folders and put them inside your purse and headed out, not before flashing a bright cheeky smile to all the three people in the room as you heard Tsunade say, "We hope to see you around soon."

The two guards outside almost didn't recognise you as the same girl who entered the office. They exchanged quizzical glances while all you could wonder was how could they let Jiraiya and Tsunade intrude like that. Maybe because it was an emergency. You gave them both genuine smiles and shrugged to yourself while moving to find the exit.

This wasn't how you planned on exiting and roaming, in such a short skirt but you had no choice because of the intrusion in the office. You didn't mind though, Konoha seems to intrigue you in a good way and you found yourself excited to explore, looking like a total bomb in that sleek, sexy (favourite colour) outfit of yours.

A/N: this was just some meaningless drabble of sorts. Hope you enjoyed.

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hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 4 years

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The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 34: AMJ #6.1

Previous Part

Next Part

Master Post

You know I considered ending this series after the initial arc. I may well discontinue it after awhile. But for now at least I am going to press on. Thus begins the second of what I and dead certain will be a shitty arc of AMJ. Pray for me.

Before we dive into the issue I want to quote for you the solicit for this issue:

WELCOME TO NY, MJ! After the CAN’T-MISS events of AMAZING MARY JANE #5, your favorite redhead is back home! First stop: Spider-Man! But has her relationship with Mysterio changed things with the love of her life? Next stop: a press tour! Complete with iconic New York guest-starring gigs, and OH NO WHAT’S THAT?!?

We spent over 10 years of seeing Peter and MJ separated in the 616 universe.

Thanks to Nick Spencer they blessedly got back together.

Across 25 issues we got to see Peter and MJ interact and 99% of the time it was awesome and helped some old and open wounds get a little better.

It wasn’t every issue, but that was good. Don’t want to get indulgent right?

Then this series came along and Peter/MJ interactions got limited again due to the nature of the story.

That was a shame but at least we were going to get a great MJ story right?

Except we didn’t. We got a story that paradoxically simultaneously celebrated MJ whilst also inadvertently character assassinating her and just being a disgusting fucking mess in general.

But here we have MJ back in New York where Spider-Man is. This issue is even promising us an interaction between them.

Sounds good right?

Let’s see if it will deliver.

As always here we get the recap.

And once more it gives us the full title of the movie in spite of the comic yet to have done that.

As for the ‘strength of his vision blah blah blah’, you know the drill by now. That’s all bullshit, Mary Jane would never connect to Beck over that or allow him to walk free because of that.

There is also a passage in the recap claiming that MJ connected to Beck over familiarity with his situation. The idea of this being their last chance to make it big. I’ve already talked about how that’s bullshit, see part 12.

Finally, the recap confirms that MJ has still failed to tell Peter the truth. Nice to know MJ will continue to be hardcore out of character moving forward into this new arc.

As the issue starts we see MJ introduced as a guest on some kind of chat show.

As has been the case throughout the series, the art is (stylistically at least) gorgeous.

Beyond that there is little to about this page. Except of course the fact that Mary Jane has thought captions.

Let me repeat that.

For the first time in six issues the readers are being given an insight into the thoughts of title character!

You know, if this were a brand new run, a re-launch or even say the beginning of an outright new era for a series maybe that’d be okay.

But it isn’t. It’s the same run, the same volume, the same story, merely the next arc. This is like if Nick Spencer hadn’t used thought captions throughout the first five issues of his ASM run but then randomly did for the Trivia Night storyline with Boomerang.

Thought captions are perhaps one of the single most potent weapons in the arsenal of a comic book writer. It allows for immense development of characters and enables writers to combine the strength of prose stories with those of more visual mediums.

Now, it’s not that it’s bad to simply not use them. But be consistent. Thought captions would’ve gone a long way in helping us understand Mary Jane better in the first arc along with elaborating upon her asinine decisions there.

Not to mention for a character so often written off as shallow or just eye candy wouldn’t an insight into her thoughts have helped dispel such accusations? Jed Mackay has been doing that pretty consistently since the first issue of his Black Cat run. There it has done wonders for Felicia and fleshed her out more.

It’s especially bad when we consider we got more of an insight into MJ’s thoughts and feelings in one issue of Nick Spencer’s ASM run than in the entire five prior issues of her solo title.

Anyway, as her interview with Reilly Redding begins there is some quips and verbal jousting going on. Reilly asks if the movie has wrapped but MJ explains that McKnight and the crew are still shooting in L.A. Reilly asks if MJ is sure about that.

This isn’t a positive, more a general observation. I’m not overly familiar with chat shows, let alone American ones, but to my eyes the host seems influenced by Ellen DeGeneres.

Anyway, let me dispense with the pettiest of gripes first. I hate Reilly’s hairstyle. I hate that hairstyle in general. To me it looks really stupid, like you went for a haircut but gave up halfway through. That’s not in anyway shape or form a fair criticism. I totally own that. It is just a tiny point that really bothers me personally.

On the more positive side, Williams continues her frustrating tendency to nail MJ’s personality traits within a problematic context. MJ’s social skills are one of her greatest powers and here her charisma and ability to play verbal tennis with Reilly is executed superlatively. When Williams does stuff like this she delivers some of the best Mary Jane writing in a long time. Which is why I hate saying and believing that she shouldn’t work on the character over all. She makes traits of MJ shine whilst nevertheless damaging the character over all.

Case in point, the movie is still filming right? And the Vulture (and probably the other members of the Savage Six) are still out there. Let’s be kind and presume they are in a new secret location. That means Vulture will still want to find out where they are, so all the people (and their families) from issue #4 are still going to be harassed by the Vulture’s paparazzi gang and potentially threatened by the six themselves.

Oh well, MJ still DGAF I guess.

Guess she doesn’t care that she’s appearing in public (in NYC of all places!) in spite of six villains now holding a very direct grudge against her.

Also, we FINALLY get the full name of the movie in the story itself, not the recap pages.

As the interview continues, MJ takes questions from the audience. One man asks what it’s like for her to play a real hero for the first time considering she’s played normal female roles before.

MJ responds that they are all heroes to her. She doesn’t really make the female role distinction quite the same way either. It’s more like she plays a hero who is also a woman.

The next question is about the weird press speculation about Cage McKnight’s conduct. The woman asking the question wants to know what he’s really like. MJ responds that he’s great, just dedicated to the craft and protective of his crew. She points out the paparazzi didn’t take kindly to him because he in turn didn’t take kindly to them hounding the movie.

Reilly then reveals McKnight is here for the interview.

Once more, Williams (with a huge help from Gomez’s art) conveys the charisma and social savvy of MJ here. Gomez’s body language demands particular praise. He conveys MJ’s beauty, flirtation, charm, etc. And he does it on multiple levels. The subtle genius of this page is how Gomez captures MJ putting on a performance for the public, to convince them she’s being utterly genuine and casual.

As for the dialogue, the best faith interpretation of the man’s question, he meant MJ has never played a super hero before, just normal non-powered women. He didn’t mean stereotypical female roles. That interpretation makes MJ’s response make more sense than if the former was the intent. So I’ll give Williams a pass and presume that was in fact her intent.

As for the second question it further highlights the unethical nature of allowing Mysterio to impersonate McKnight. The real McKnight has a lot of gossip and a new public image that was not of his own making. It wasn’t even an unfair fabrication by the press, it existed specifically because someone else was using his name, face and reputation for personal gain.

Also the audacity of Williams to directly reference issue #4 where Ken was harassed by the Vulture’s paparazzi squad but just ignore the fact that that should still be going on.

To MJ’s confusion Cage McKnight joins the interview. However, he doesn’t seem to know anything about the movie at all. He says the first he heard of the movie was when he was contacted for the interview. Meanwhile MJ frantically contacts Beck on her phone. Reilly notices and calls MJ out just before Beck confirms he’s still in L.A.

To MJ’s horror she realizes she’s sitting next to the real Cage McKnight who’s returned from his penguin expedition. Reilly asks why he came on the show if he doesn’t remember movie. Cage responds that just because he doesn’t remember making the movie doesn’t mean he didn’t. he explains that in the past he’s made movies in ‘artistic fugues’ and presumes this is just one such time.

*pinches bridge of nose*

Oh my Gooooooooood this is so dumb.

I get the desire to have humour in a story for the sake of levity. But the world of Spider-Man is not even remotely a borderline Deadpool or Harley Quinn or Lobo comic book. The humour doesn’t come from absurdity or a cartoonlike breaking of logic and reality.

And make no mistake, this is absurd. Scratch that, it’s contrived to the nth degree.

First of all I’m not that well read up on fugue states so I briefly consulted Wikipedia who had this to say:

Dissociative fugue, formerly fugue state or psychogenic fugue, is a dissociative disorder[1] and a rare psychiatric disorder characterized by reversible amnesia for personal identity, including the memories, personality, and other identifying characteristics of individuality. The state can last days, months or longer. Dissociative fugue usually involves unplanned travel or wandering and is sometimes accompanied by the establishment of a new identity. It is a facet of dissociative amnesia, according to the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5).

-Wikipedia

Basically a fugue state is a sort of similar condition to Dissociative Identity Disorder, more commonly known as having a split personality. Only instead of an individual’s psyche fracturing into different personalities that take dominance, it’s someone’s mind running away with itself and becoming someone else. The individual forgets aspects of who they are and becomes someone else.

A very good example within fiction can be found in the Doctor Who episode ‘The Next Doctor’. In it a man named Jackson Lake suffers a traumatic experience and in the midst of it (through a sci-fi gizmo) absorbs a lot of information on the character of the Doctor. His traumatized mind consequently decides to imitate what it regards as the Doctor.

youtube

What I’m saying is McKnight’s dialogue about his fugues are very probably bullshit unless someone can cite evidence to the contrary.

Using the above description though McKnight has gotten this rare psychiatric disorder multiple times and specifically in conjunction with his job as a filmmaker. Yeah, no. Not buying it and neither should you.

Being a film director isn’t a muscle memory skill you can’t forget no matter what. People with amnesia or Alzheimer’s disease do not forget how to play the piano or how to drive. But directing a movie? There are so many moving pieces to that job that rely upon you knowing how equipment and more importantly individual people operate. You have to bear a shitton of theory in mind too. It is physically impossible to repeatedly have fugues and then maintain that job.

And even if it was, oh my lord, that is the single most contrived thing in this series yet. Are you SERIOUSLY telling me that Mary Jane and Beck and the entire production got this lucky. The guy who’s reputation is what the movie is riding on happens to be someone who repeatedly deals with this incredibly rare mental condition?

Holy shit. That’s Superior Spider-Man levels of contrived.

And yet if you still swallowed all of that it still wouldn’t make sense!

McKnight presumes he made this Mysterio movie in a fugue state right? But he wasn’t, so he would remember his life during that period of time. Meaning that there are lots of public records and personal accounts testifying that he was making the movie at the same time that he knows he was observing penguins.

If you suffer amnesia or blackouts or DID then there are obviously gaps in time you cannot account for. The overwhelming majority of people who deal with those conditions make a point of keeping track of those gaps, for practical reasons if nothing else. So McKnight would know that there isn’t a gap in time he can’t account for and certainly not for the time period the Mysterio movie has been going for.

Shit, the movie is still filming! How the Hell does he believe he is still making this movie in a fugue state if he’s consciously aware of lacking any knowledge about it?

Not to mention if he’s been in the Falkland Islands this whole time. A quick Google search informed me that by plane it’d take over 14 hours to travel between the islands and Los Angeles. How the fuck is anyone supposed to ever commute that distance, let alone regularly. And McKnight sincerely believes he was doing both at the same goddam time?

You couldn’t even argue that McKnight believes he made the Mysterio movie before his penguin expedition. Because the movie is still being made and all his other ‘artistic fugues’ would have a movie as proof of what he was doing during the fugues.

This is just mind-numbingly stupid and lazy writing. It smacks so hard of Williams trying to desperately paper over the holes in her initial story.

More importantly, how fucking stupid is Mary Jane or Beck to never considered this possibility? I don’t mean the fugue bullshit, I mean the idea of McKnight just coming back from his penguin adventure.

Was Mysterio honestly so incompetent as to have never accounted for that? He seriously never had anything in place to make sure McKnight wouldn’t just decide to cut his journey short? Jesus, and I was dumb enough to buy his line about McKnight spending a year with the penguins.

Even putting that aside, what the flying fuck was MJ and Beck’s plan for when he eventually came back in the first place? Say he really did spend a year with the penguins then came back to the USA. Suddenly he has a movie with his name attached to it and lots of controversy. Let’s say McKnight’s fugue bullshit added up, there is no indication MJ or beck knew about them. So how the Hell were they planning on getting away with the obvious questions he or his friends or family would have had?

And if they did know about the fugues, why didn’t Williams address that before? That was kind of a lingering question hanging over the story until now wasn’t it?

God I can’t believe I paid for this!

On the next page MJ spots a guy in an Oni Mask backstage. She presumes he’s there to scare her as part of the show. However, she notices that the P.A.s haven’t seen him. Meanwhile Reilly set up a stupid game for them to play.

I got nothing to say about this page beyond McKnight’s dialogue. Williams is clearly trying to frame the real McKnight in a less than sympathetic manner. There could be many reasons why. I suspect one of the reasons is to incline us more towards Beck’s version of McKnight and to make us not feel as bad about Beck (and MJ) exploiting his identity.

Because being vaguely and lightly sexist means you deserve to have your career, public image, sense of self and life violated and damaged I guess?????????????

As Reilly brings in people from the audience to compete against McKnight and MJ, the latter thinks that there is something weirdly familiar about the Oni-masked man.

I have little to say about this page too.

Reilly’s attitude and facial expressions make me dislike her, even beyond her stupid haircut.

And as for the Oni-Masked man (I’ll just call him Oni for now) my only guess is that he’s affiliated with Mister Negative somehow. He had his goons wear Oni masks at times. And MJ interacted with them and Mister Negative himself in the popular 2018 Spider-Man video game by Insomniac; and it’s adapted comic book City at War. As such perhaps Williams is trying to tie-in or capitalize upon audience familiarity with that.

As MJ plays the dumb game he ponders if Oni could be a lesser member of Peter’s rogue’s gallery. Observing him again she notices him murder a civilian.

The dumb game annoyed me, but that’s just me.

Beyond that all I can say is that MJ’s dialogue about Peter’s rogue’s gallery is interesting. It proves that MJ has at least a working knowledge of Peter’s major foes. Which just further proves she would have been familiar with Mysterio and his crimes, just in case anyone was still clinging to the idea that she wouldn’t.

Also, the art and especially that splash page were beautiful.

Unfortunately for MJ, Oni notices she witnessed his crime. MJ is nervous and backs away in fear, annoying McKnight when she bumps into him. Meanwhile Spider-Man swings across town yelling for to hold on as he is on the way.

Gomez draws a nice Spider-Man.

Anyway, more of Williams making us dislike McKnight, see above for more on that.

MJ backing away in fear has me apprehensive. I don’t know if that’s in character for her. I guess the shock and surprise could’ve thrown her for a loop. And if Oni doesn’t notice her then it gives her a better chance of raising the alarm and capturing him.

I must say, I do like MJ being on the backfoot here after issues #1-5 made her often overconfident and over capable at times (see her nonchalance over the Savage Six in issue #5).

Also, isn’t MJ going to give Oni the benefit of the doubt? Maybe he’s sorry for murdering that guy just now. Maybe he wants to make amends by creating a movie about his life. So why is MJ so scared?

Sure, he just murdered someone, but what is that next to the laundry list of Beck’s crimes?

As it turns out, Spidey wasn’t on his way to save MJ. He was in fact en route to a French restaurant to have dinner with her. He is actually before MJ for a change.

I know Gomez isn’t the only artist on this issue and this doesn’t look like his work. Who ever is drawing it though is doing a very bland depiction of Peter with a overly wrinkly forehead.

The joke about him arriving first for a change was funny though.

Back at the studio, the show wraps up. McKnight insults Reilly’s profession just in case you’ve not realised he is a jerk yet. MJ thinks about persuading everyone to evacuate and searches for her phone. She notices Oni leaving and decides to leave her phone behind.

I already know MJ is going to pursue Oni herself. The stupidity of that aside why the fuck wouldn’t you grab your phone before doing that? You could use it no matter where you wind up and it wasn’t so far away that he’d get that much of a head start.

In fact, if Oni knows MJ is a witness why did he bother hanging around in the first place.

And why didn’t MJ raise the alarm immediately, the worst that would happen is the guy would run away. He’s just stealthily murdered someone and is in a mask. He obviously isn’t going to take the audience hostage, so if her priority is protecting innocents then raising the alarm immediately (or in fact earlier would’ve been her best bet. Yes that’d probably mean he’d have escaped but unlike with say Peter’s origin, getting him the Hell out of there would’ve reduced the immediate threat to the civilians present.

And on top of that if she figures he’s targeting her because she was a witness to his crime then by alerting everyone to his actions she’d have removed his need (at least for the moment) of sticking around to eliminate her, thus getting him away from the audience.

If he’s leaving anyway, MJ could also just grab her phone and put a call in to Peter, her super hero chums or the police and get them on the case immediately. If she was really so determined to go after this guy herself she still could but would’ve had a back up just in case he escapes or kills her. If she fails then she’s insured someone will still pursue him.

And as I copiously detailed in parts 19-22, MJ is not a super hero (and she knows that). She has no idea what this guy’s skills, weapons or powers might be, nor does she know what resources or assistance will be nearby to enable her to survive or subdue him. This isn’t like an armed cop, a martial artist or a super powered person going after a regular crook. She really doesn’t know what she is in for. Even if he is just a normal man, he clearly has a height and weight advantage over her, is obviously willing and capable of chocking a man to death and is armed. MJ meanwhile has little self-defence training, no weapons and hasn’t got the weight or muscle capable of taking him on if she’s backed into a corner. And she’s pursuing him back stage where presumably there is a fair chance of encountering many corners!

I understand that she doesn’t want to endanger innocent people, but there is no point in risking her life there is a much more practical and likely to succeed option available to her. Live to fight another day and all that. Yes the guy might hurt people during or after his escape but that’s a lesser evil vs. going after him herself when she is very unlikely to subdue him, far more likely to die and then the guy will get away without her having passed on any valuable intel on him to someone more qualified to pursue him.

Also once she sees the guy leaving she could just tell everyone the situation and ask the audience to stay put.

Basically if raises the alarm right there on stage and/or calls Peter or the authorities she is over all putting less people in danger and increasing the chances of the guy being apprehended in the long run. But no, instead she is going to gamble on the far slimmer odds that she can capture the guy.

Not to mention, why would the guy even give a shit that MJ saw him? Why would MJ give a shit that she is a witness to his crime? He is wearing a mask! She couldn’t identify him even if she went to the police. It is literally part of the reason her goddam boyfriend wears a mask!

And by the way, are there no security cameras backstage? Wouldn’t MJ consider that or Oni himself?

McKnight apologises to Reilly (so not that much of a jerk I guess) as MJ pursues Oni (barefooted) backstage. As she does this she rehearses what she will say to Peter in her head. This entails telling him that she had to get away from the killer. As she is thinking about this the body of Oni’s victim is discovered. Backstage she comes face to face with Oni who refers to her by name.

Yay. MJ deliberately planning on lying to Peter again. It’s so awesome that Williams understands why this isn’t a really bad idea for the reasons I pointed out in part 17.

By the way, I suspect Oni knows MJ personally rather than just recognizing her work.

I’m actually going to leave it there for now as the next part of the story has a shitton to unpack.

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#Leah Williams #Amazing Mary Jane #Mysterio #Quentin beck #Spider-Man #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #mjwatsonedit #MJ Watson #peter parker #Doctor Who

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

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How about: “I wasn’t lying when I told you I loved you.” + “Who cares what they think?” for Valdo x reader? :3

A/N: A slight tweak of the exact wording of the prompt, but I think you’ll forgive me :) Word Count: 1772 Content Warning: a PG-13 level of swearing (exactly one), self-pity/self-depreciation

“Valdo Marx!” the high, somewhat nasally voice rang out over the banquet hall as some countess you couldn’t name approached. “It’s been so long since you’ve graced us with your presence. There were even rumors that you had died!” Her big, bright blue eyes batted coquettishly at him.

“Well,” he said with a smirk and a chuckle. “How dramatic. As you can see, I am quite alive and well. I simply took some time away from court to chase a particularly…ornery muse and create new material.”

You shot him a playful glare and caught his smirk at the descriptor.

“Will we hear some of it tonight?” she clasped his hand in both of hers and drew it to her chest entreatingly. “It would be oh so grand for you to perform.”

You rolled your eyes from beside him, familiar and bored of this courtly song and dance.

“I’m sure something can be arranged, my lady,” he acquiesced. “Although, I am here as a guest tonight, so I may have to talk it over with my dear Y/N.”

“Oh!” the lady gasped, as if only just noticing you standing there. “Y/N? I’m unfamiliar with the name. Where is your family from?” the cock of her head reminded you of the little spaniels many nobles had recently decided it was fashionable to carry around.

“Nowhere,” you said tersely before smiling coldly. “I got here on my own merit. You’d be surprised the doors that open when you save a queen’s life.”

Valdo beamed proudly by your shoulder as the lady stammered and floundered for how to respond. It was true that you had been invited to court for as long as you wished to stay, and promised any number of lavish rewards after your quick thinking had halted an assassination attempt in the market earlier that day. And most of the court had been smart enough to catch the gossip quickly and pay you due respect.

“Yes, it was a quite the sight to witness,” he purred. “Had I more time before tonight, I would surely have crafted my greatest ballad yet about their daring rescue. And done without ever so much as a hair out of place. Such a clever thing, my Y/N. Nearly as clever as beautiful. I am so lucky to love them, and hardly deserving of it.”

You preened under his praise and the lady murmured some excuse to duck away, flushed with embarrassment.

“There was no need to tease her like that,” you scolded playfully as soon as she was out of earshot.

“Who was teasing, love? I meant every word of it. And she was the one who didn’t know who you were.”

“None of them actually know. Or care. I am a merely the newest, shiny little toy. Like the lapdogs. By next week, I’ll be back in the kennels, muzzled and forgotten in favor of something else when the novelty wears off.”

‘It’ll wear off for him to,’ a treacherous voice whispered in the back of your mind. ‘How long do you really think you can carry on this charade before Valdo Marx finds something prettier and more agreeable?’

“Muzzled? Now there’s a thought…” his eyebrows wagged salaciously and you slapped his chest just hard enough to make him gasp out a breath.

“Don’t you start, Valdo Marx,” you threatened, a finger pointed into his face.

“Oh, pearl of my heart, but it is so much fun to tease you.”

“I want to get through tonight with a modicum of dignity. And I’m frankly surprised that you don’t.”

“Dignity is all in the presentation, darling.”

“Speaking of,” you sighed and dropped your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That very large and imposing looking man in armor is staring at us pointedly. I think it’s time to go meet the royals.”

Your face burned with humiliation. The queen had been kind enough as you stumbled through appropriate courtly greetings, the motions and words feeling stiff and unfamiliar, disjointed, like a puppet with tangled strings. And the king had, perhaps even more blessedly, been aloof. But the crown prince – a skinny, pimply, young monster not yet through puberty – had brayed like a donkey and called the attention of a half-dozen courtiers to your every error, and they all tittered behind handkerchiefs and fans and gloved fingers. You had stared down at your own, exposed in all their calloused, bitten-nailed glory. For some reason, that small difference had been enough to spur tears in your eyes and, mumbling an apology and a thanks for their graciousness, you had fled.

Valdo found you, leaning with a white knuckled grip, on one of the balconies far from the throne room.

“If you’re planning to vault yourself over the edge and escape into the lawns as your pose suggests,” he called softly as he approached. “I would point out that not only are we on the second story, but there are rose bushes right below us and I would hate to see the most wonderful face on the continent so torn up.”

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you close so that he could press a kiss to your temple just in time to hear you mutter “idiot, absolute idiot.”

“The prince? Absolutely,” he answered, trying to pretend you were doing anything other than disparaging yourself. “But he’s young, there’s still a chance he’ll grow out of it before he takes the throne. Or someone will beat it out of him.”

“No,” you scoffed. “Me. I was a fool to think I could even remotely fit in here, even with your tutelage this afternoon.”

“In your defense, I wasn’t the best instructor, but I was…distracted.” He pressed another kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Horribly distracted.”

“I’m serious Valdo,” you tried to pull away from him, but he kept his hold firm. “I’m a joke. They’re all in there laughing at this idiotic country bumpkin playing at courtier. I wanted to belong, for you, so that you weren’t so embarrassed to bring me to functions and could go back to performing in palaces and grand estates where you belong but I just can’t. I was stupid to think I could.”

“Stop.” He moved his hands to rest firmly on your shoulders. “Y/N, listen to me.”

He ducked his head to force you to look in his eyes, and though you tried not to, you gravitated naturally to meet his emerald gaze, a natural sense of calm flooding over you at the tenderness you found there. “Are you listening, dearest?”

You nodded meekly.

“Good. Because what I’m about to say is very profound and important. Ready?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile at his dramatics.

“Fuck ‘em.” He whispered, leaning close so that the words, and his facial hair, brushed against your ear.

“What?” you laughed incredulously at hearing him swear, especially in such a serious and impassioned tone.

“Is that not how you would put it?”

“I see. I’ve been a terrible influence on you, and ruined your genteel demeanor.” You tried to keep the joke light, but couldn’t help the darkness that crept over your face at the thought of it being just another thing you couldn’t do right for him.

“I’m serious, Y/N. Who cares what they think?”

You paused, biting your lip and looking down at the sliver of ground between you. “Well I mean…I thought…you did? You’re Valdo Marx. You should be here, courting rich patrons and lovers and charming the all sorts of people. Not burdened by me.”

He sighed, leaning one hip against the railing and crooking a finger under your chin to pull your face back up toward his.

“I would be lying if I said I never considered my reputation. But there are things much more valuable to me than it, and I can’t be bothered anymore with anyone who thinks less than the absolute highest of you.”

You felt the tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes and reached up anxiously to brush them away before they could fall.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you, Y/N. I truly do. With all my heart. And I will give all of this up a thousand times over to live in a hovel if that’s what it takes to have you in my life.”

“A hovel? Really?”

“Yes. I mean I would much prefer not a hovel. A modest townhouse at the least. In a city, a capital or near one of the universities, I’ll still need to ply my craft somewhere. And I’d be terribly frightened that you’d get bored or sick of me and use your innumerable talents to make my body disappear if we were out in the middle of nowhere. But if isolation is what you truly wanted, I would find a way to make it work.” His eyes shone in the distant candlelight as he carried on.

“Take it easy, Valdo,” you laughed. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say all that talk sounded very,” you gestured vaguely as you sought the right word. “Future-y. Like you’re expecting us to settle down soon.”

“Well…” he carded a nervous hand through his curls and your fingers itched beyond reason to replace it with your own.

“What? Why would we do that? I thought we both loved this wandering life…Do you know something I don’t?”

“It’s…well…a bit more hopeful than that…” you had never seen him so worked up, and his nervous energy was beginning to bleed into your own.

“Out with it.” You ordered, hoping some firmness would get him to pull himself together.

He sighed. “I hadn’t planned to do this tonight, or so shortly after you had been insulted and upset, which it is only by virtue of him being a future king and therefore an important ally to cultivate that I did not challenge him to a duel for that you know…”

You raised an eyebrow. “Right, and him being only about twelve-years-old had nothing to do with it?”

He shrugged, as if to suggest that he would in fact have challenged a child to a fight in your name.

“Y/N. Sun and stars in my sky. Deity made flesh and stooped low to love me. Grandest muse, all I could ever ask for and more. I have no right. I am a cad and a wastrel and do not deserve you. But I bare my heart before you, and ask you to take it, let it be yours forever, let me be yours,” he slowly sank down in front of you. “As your husband?”

#Valdo Marx #Valdo Marx x Reader #reader insert #The Witcher fic #requested #The Witcher #does Valdo Marx babble when nervous? he does now #am I a soft mushy romantic/lovestruck disaster? quite possibly #that could have been far more angsty #(story of my life these days honestly)#if nothing else I think I'm funny

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

Text

Cerebus #3

Time for some good chafing gags!

I love Cerebus. Once I began buying the monthly issues, I stuck with it until Issue #300, no matter how bored I had become with Cerebus's explication of Genesis. I stuck with it because it had entertained me so much and because I loved the idea of a comic book series with a character who grows and changes and eventually dies as an old, decrepit, huge delusional mess. Or was he delusional? Yeah, I think he was. By the end, I think we're supposed to realize Rick was the protagonist? Whoops! I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm still in the issues where I don't have to think too hard about anything and can just sit back and laugh at jokes about chain mail bikinis and a woman who will only fuck somebody who overpowers her physically! What I meant to say before I interrupted myself like usual, I kept with the series because I loved so much of it. Not all of it, of course. Who could love all of it?! Dave Sim was writing things that kept himself interested and wasn't too worried about, say, keeping the audience that loved Church & State while writing Melmoth, or expecting people who loved Guys to be enthusiastic about Coming Home. I appreciated this comic book so much that it's the only reason that I kept purchasing monthly comic books as I entered my thirties. I had gotten to the point where my brain was having too much trouble remembering all the different comic book story lines with a full month long gaps between each twenty-four page bit of story. So at some point just past the year 2000, I decided I'd stop reading monthly comics altogether after March 2004, the final issue of Cerebus. After that, I kept up with Fables and Walking Dead via collected editions. But I was done reading monthlies (until The New 52 somehow dragged me back in to do that blog project!). So yeah. I was (and still am!) a huge Cerebus fan. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to be critical of the series and the writer. Dave Sim makes a lot of mistakes and I'm going to have a lot of fun pointing them out! You might not think they're mistakes but I ask that you hold your comments until the end (you know, my review of Issue #300!) because why would I want to argue on the Internet with other huge comic book nerds? We're the worst! One person I'll never criticize because I don't think they ever do anything wrong: Gerhard! That fucking work horse nails it throughout the entire series! Nothing much to say about Deni's "A Note from the Publisher" since all she says is how she has nothing to say. I was hoping she'd admit to rubbing one out over one of Dave's finished Red Sophia pages but my horrible male nerd projections about how women act once more didn't come to fruition. How is it everything I learned about women from female comic book characters turned out to be so wrong?! I refuse to believe it's because most of them were written by men. Men are so rational and logical! They wouldn't have steered me wrong!

I should probably do a little research on Frank Thorne.

Frank Thorne was best known for his work on Marvel's Red Sonja. Yes, I lifted that directly from Wikipedia. But I typed it myself! Another thing I learned from Wikipedia (I'd do more research than just Wikipedia but I don't want to wind up on YouTube where I'll not only learn about Frank Thorne's artistic history but also that the American Democratic party runs a pedophile sex traffic ring and also something about cannibals? I mean, it sounds like something I'd like to believe!) is that Thorne wrote a book called How to Draw Sexy Women. So, you know, he's probably one of my heroes? Frank Thorne is currently 90 years old and he might have the most adorable picture of anybody on Wikipedia.

I want to be best friends with him right now. Six year old me would have been over the moon in love with him (I had a Grandfather Fixation when I was really young that probably had nothing to do with my father leaving when I was two).

This issue not only introduces Red Sophia but also the wizard Henrot. That's an anagram of "Thorne"! Red Sophia is an anagram for "Hi! Do Rapes." I don't agree with that at all. I'm just the anagram messenger. I'm also not suggesting that Dave Sim knew what he was doing anagrammatically! I mean with the Red Sophia anagram. He definitely meant the Henrot/Thorne one! Cerebus has returned to civilization but now needs some quick cash because one thing Cerebus always needs is quick cash. He's only wealthy a few times and those times don't usually last long. He goes to see Henrot (who allegedly gets his power from two of the five Spheres of the Gods! So now we kind of know more about those things even if it is just a rumor) to question him about any paying mercenary gigs.

You might think the missing word in Henrot's dialogue was a mistake by Dave Sim but later we'll probably learn in, I don't know, Issue #143 that Henrot's first language is Borelean to account for this seeming error.

Cerebus doesn't usually take assassination or torture jobs because he finds them distasteful but he needs the money. Sure, he'll take any job that has him killing people in battle or invading private wizard's towers to murder the owner and steal the owner's stuff. But assassination and torture? So wrong! Once Cerebus takes the job, he learns that he was to take Henrot's daughter, Red Sophia, along with him. The target besmirched her honor so she needs to watch him die slowly and painfully. Is this where the MeToo hashtag goes?

Red Sophia drawing tutorial: Draw some big tits, some big lips, and a big mass of hair. Connect them with some kind of woman shaped lines. Ta-da!

Red Sophia chatters incessantly and dances around while Cerebus carries all of the gear. It's funny because female characters get to represent all women instead of being a unique character! Ha ha! Women really do talk a lot, right? And they're always all, "Carry my purse for me!" And guys are all like, "Stifle your emotions like a normal person! Carry your own purse! Stop dancing around whimsically and try to act tough and cool like regular people do! Play some sports already! Take care of me like you were my replacement mother!" In the "A Note from the Publisher," Deni wrote that since the first issue (remember the first issue? So many issues ago!), Dave had wanted to write a story where Cerebus interacts with a female. She doesn't say Dave wanted to write a female character. He just wanted Cerebus to interact with a female. So I guess that's what this is! Cerebus interacts with a female stereotype who is also a sex fantasy. Not because she's hot but because she constantly tries to fuck Cerebus throughout their adventure! What sword and sorcery reading nerd didn't dream of that three or four times a day in a dark room? I'm being harsh on Sim because it's more fun than lavishing praise on him. You can tell Sim realizes the inherent problems with Red Sonja because that's the bulk of his parody. The problem isn't Dave's take on the character; the real problem is simply the character Red Sonja! In 1978, Sim was already commenting on the ridiculous armor artists draw on women (there will be chafing jokes!)! And in this story, Dave Sim expresses how ridiculous it was to create a female character who was raped and then given great fighting skills by some Goddess with the catch that she can never fuck a man unless he beats her in fair combat. Just looking at it from a guy's point of view, I'd probably be all, "You know what? I don't want those powers. Could you maybe just strike down the asshole who raped me and let me not have to attempt to beat up every woman I'm attracted to?" Is that enough hot takes on Red Sophia? Cause I want to get to the part of this review where I can admit that I fucking love her so much. Later Cerebus meets Elrod who is really just Foghorn Leghorn. I'm pretty sure Red Sophia was less Red Sonja than Pepé Le Pew. I know, I know! There are probably some sensitive reasons why I'm not supposed to like Pepé too! But he was my mother's favorite Looney Tunes character! Anyway, I can't blame Dave Sim for making his first female character about 75% stereotypes of women. He's still a young writer! You've got to give him about another 183 issues to really clarify his stance on the interactions between genders! I'm sure it'll be more layered, nuanced, and rational.

Cerebus might be an Earth Pig but he's not a chauvinist pig. He doesn't take sexual advantage of Red Sophia here; he just makes her carry all the gear. It's a good joke that I'm ruining by explaining it instead of scanning in the punchline!

Just for comparison, let's take a look at a modern interpretation of Red Sonja by Ed Benes. I bet just that artist's name alone gives male comic book nerds a chubby. Not a full on hard on though. Those are probably reserved for hearing the name "Frank Cho."

What do they teach in art school? Women can turn 180 degrees at the waist? Not that I'm complaining! Dark room, here I come!

Oh shit. I forgot I was reading this comic book! Okay, um, so Red Sophia attacks Cerebus for besmirching her honor. Or Cerebus attacks Red Sophia for knocking him into a bush with her ass. Maybe it's a little bit of both. Anyway, Cerebus defeats her so Red Sophia begins throwing her ample bosom at Cerebus every chance she gets. Cerebus is not interested for some reason. Maybe it's because he stuck a sword in his vagina when he was younger? That happened, right? Or was that a flashback about him having his period? Now that I'm thinking about it...what the fuck is this comic book? I think maybe I hallucinated some of it! Cerebus isn't a fucking slut, man! He doesn't just fuck any hot woman whom he defeats in battle! He needs to fall in love and/or get completely wrecked on Peach Schnapps. So he has no interest in Red Sophia. I suppose a woman trying to kill you is a bit of a turn off. And then later, when she gets you into a fight with Thugg the Unseemly, it's less of an aphrodisiac than you might think.

I think Borelean might be Red Sophia's first language as well. I mean, she is Henrot's daughter.

The Letterer part of Dave Sim has already fucked up twice this issue. I bet he was too busy having his sword and sorcery fantasies in a dark room to pay close attention to the script. This is probably why Dave Sim eventually gave up masturbation. Later, Red Sophia feeds Cerebus granola and it totally cracks Dave Sim up. He said so in the Swords of Cerebus essay! Didn't you read it? I, for one, prefer the joke on the following page about Cerebus being a cannibal. Or an aardvark who eats human meat, anyway. I think that's close enough to cannibalism. We learn later that aardvarks can have offspring with humans so I feel like the aardvarks in this book are less sentient funny talking animals and more severely deformed human beings.

Red Sophia's tent. If this we were well into Mothers & Daughters when this tent made an appearance, I'd think Dave purposefully drew it this way. Since we're only on Issue #3, I think he was just feeling horny when he drew it.

If at any time during this review I've referred to Red Sophia as Red Sonja, just remember that English is my second language. I'm Borelean. I apologize to Dave Sim for earlier suggesting that Red Sophia was simply a bunch of female stereotypes mashed together into a character. As I said, I love her. I figured I probably started loving her after she makes several more appearances but I'm pretty sure this is the page where I knew needed more Red Sophia in my life.

How can you not be completely charmed by the "I'm pretty good at hand-holding" line?

This is a good reminder that I shouldn't be judging early Dave Sim by Issue #186 Dave Sim and beyond. He should always get the benefit of the doubt and, even after #186, he should retain it. I need to be reading the material both with fresh eyes as if reading it for the first time and with the knowledge of the whole in an attempt to understand it better. This scene is just so fucking charming that I hate that it might be ruined for many people based on their "knowledge" of Dave Sim. I put knowledge in quotes because, really, how many people who think of Dave as a misogynist have actually read Cerebus or Tangent? How many have just heard they're supposed to despise him because he's been called a misogynist? I mean, sure, you just have to read a bunch of his Biblical explications to understand you're dealing with something other than neurotypical! But it'd be nice if more people came to their Dave Sim conclusions themselves instead of just jumping on the bandwagon. I'm not saying people who think he's a misogynist aren't automatically wrong! Dave thinks they are but come on. He eventually gives out a lot of slack with which to make quite a few nooses to hang himself with. Um, okay, back to not judging Cerebus based on future Dave's rants about the Marxist/feminist/homosexual axis! Cerebus and Sophia finally reach the target where Cerebus discovers that the target, Tanes Feras, loves Sophia. And just like that, he figures out how to get rid of Sophia while also torturing Feras (possibly to death? Time will tell!). He commands Sophia to marry Feras because she must do whatever he asks. Sure, she thought it would involved his super long tongue and her metal-chafed butthole. But that's the great thing about love! It doesn't care what you want. Henrot seems to accept this conclusion for now. He'll definitely be back later. And so will Red Sophia. I can't wait!

The map of Cerebus's world by Deni's brother, Clovis. He ran out of ideas when he got to "Ocean Sea."

I'll have to remember to keep referring back to this map throughout the series. Although I'll probably only need it for the first twenty-five issues. And then maybe after Mothers & Daughters. Nothing noteworthy in Aardvark Comment this month. Just some Canadians saying things like, "Glad to see a Canadian comic book from Canada about Canada!" Which is confusing because I didn't realize how much of Cerebus was representative of Canada. I've really got to rethink my Canadian stereotypes. Now I'll be sure to picture Canadians as 50% Cerebus and 50% Joey Jeremiah. Cerebus #3 Rating: B+. Sim's art remains a bit more on the amateurish side than the professional side. But that's to be expected. Already you can see improvements in the consistency of Cerebus's look and I think maybe his snout is already getting shorter and girthier. This was the first issue where he drew a woman so I can't fault him for drawing a blow-up doll in a chain mail bikini. Why would I? I'd never fault anybody for drawing a blow-up doll in a chain mail bikini! I also just thought up a new category to search on eBay. This issue begins to show where Sim really excels: his characters. The first two issues basically highlight Cerebus dealing with a few generic characters. But Red Sophia (and Henrot to a lesser extent) captures the spotlight this issue. Ignoring some of the shallow aspects of her character creation (if you even believe those exists. Don't take my super-professional critical opinion on it!), she's really rather charming and a competent foil for the Earth Pig. Just knowing that she's the tip of the iceberg in the gallery of recurring characters excites me more than those fantasies I keep having in my dark room.

#Cerebus #Dave Sim

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