09/23/2023 02:06 PM  dusk til dawn You weren’t supposed to be here, Lucifer knew this well. They always had a sense when someone entered their realm. But somehow you managed to crawl your way into their kingdom, their place, hell.  Why on earth would the goddess of spring ever be in a place where there's no life? No beauty? Just the agony screams of the tortured souls and the dammed.  Nobody else could ever know why or how, you were one of the princesses of the famous goddess, Demeter, though at birth you were called persephone the sea nymphs however, called you Y/n, that’s what you liked to call yourself. Those same nymphs you’d used to like to play with when you were little and you’d go by the fountain just to see them. Persephone was just another name where olympian gods have to have names like that, which comes with meaning and power.  Though Lucifer wasn’t going to admit it outloud, they have been keeping an eye on you for quite some time, they saw you eyeing the place with such curiosity in your eyes, it was sweet, there was something different about you, with you, your touch brought life, with theirs, their touch only brought misery and pain.  Even when they were an angel, god's favourite. How could your own father send you to rule over the underworld for all eternity, leaving it to you responsibly and you get nothing out of it? Sure, some might say Lucifer loved being the ruler of hell, yes, they certainly loved the attention, the respect, the title does matter a lot to them, how their demons show them the utter most respect to their ruler, their master, even mazikeen, who was considered a friend to Lucifer, which was rare, Lucifer didn’t consider anyone their friend, just mostly saw anyone as either their ally at war or another enemy. But they saw an expectation in Mazikeen, and even Maze knew that, she knew she was closest to Lucifer more than what any other demon could be in the hierarchy.  So, as Lucifer had their eyes on you, something about you intrigued them. But if it was with anyone else, they wouldn’t even give them a glance, they just wouldn’t care enough for that person at all, but Lucifer saw something in you, that called out to them, and that hasn’t happened to them in a long, long time.  Not when you fell into their kingdom that night when the ground swallowed you whole and they could hear your screams from all the way down to your knees, you had touched the flower that was dead, one of theirs from their kingdom, from the underworld that somehow made its way to you and you brought it back to life, and when you stared up at them, looking so fragile and frightened, all they wanted to do was protect you against any harm that could come your way.  “What a surprise we have here,” Lucifer smiled, their tall figure towering over you as you looked so tiny compared to them, “the daughter of zeus, persephone,” they chuckled like it was amusing to them, it sent a shiver down your spine, “what a surprise indeed.”  You’ve heard stories of the fallen angel, how they go by many names in the human realm, avenrus, Tartarus, hades, this place was cold, there was no life here, the sky was dark, misty, kind of like there was smoke everywhere, or even ashes, there was no beauty, no life,  but when you had stared into their eyes and their gaze met yours, you saw beauty in them.  “Y-you’re beautiful” you said with a whisper, before blacking out onto the ground.  And for the first time in so long, Lucifer was stunned.  – When you awoke, you weren’t in your room, in your bed, you were in a completely different place, because nothing felt familiar to you the way home did.  “Hello.”  A voice that came out of nowhere startled you as you gasped and looked for where that voice came from, until the most beautiful being stepped closer into view, they wore a white gown, and your eyes widened at the sight of their large dark wings that they had that fluttered behind them.  Their lips curled into a smile.  ”I do hope you slept well, yes? Someone will bring you some food shortly” they said, walking around this room that was now supposedly yours.  “W-where am I?” you asked, groaning slightly at the pain you felt that rushed to your head and you got a bit dizzy, your legs were as if they had turned into noodles, you couldn’t possibly stand straight on your own without a helping hand.  “Where are you?” they repeated your question, in a slight teasing mocking tone, watching as you nod, “why your in hell, darling. The underworld I should say, hell is what mortals call it,” they shrugged.  “The underworld?” you said with a frown, but then you gasped, “I’m in hell!?”  Lucifer then let out a laugh, shaking their head.  “Yes, my dear, you are in my realm” they said so casually as if you weren’t on the verge of freaking out even more than in the current state you were in, trying to process everything and what’s happened to you.  “Did you kidnap me?” you accused, “take me back home, now!” you demanded.  They chuckled again, taking a step closer to you and you fell on to your back against the soft silk sheets, your heart was thumping loudly in your ears, from either fear, arousal, you had no clue, but Lucifer certainly had an effect on you.  “Why would you want to leave when you’re the one that brought yourself here in the first place?” Lucifer smiled, tilting their head to the side as if they were observing you, “it was you who fell on my steps, it was you who came to me, I did not force you nor did I have to, you just found your way into my realm.”  “W-what?” you were stunned, confused, lost, tired, you didn’t know what they were saying, but there was a part of you that knew they were telling the truth. “I-”  “Sshh, my darling, let me help you and make you feel more at home here, okay? You need to just relax and let me in” they cooed, gently caressing your cheek with their hand, which brought a smile to your lips as you leaned into their touch.  You couldn’t help but melt under their touch, that sent a sensation right throughout your body, a sensation of pleasure, how could, the devil, in the flesh right before your eyes be making you feel such things? Is this what they called corruption in its finest most beautiful form? How could evil look like this and make you feel all kinds of pleasant things when wouldn’t they be doing more harm than this? You didn’t understand, Lucifer saw that, your naivete was so clear to them it amused them, they couldn’t help but keep you close, even if that does mean corrupting you, making you theirs.  You weren’t sure if you were allowed to touch them, they only smiled up at you as you watched them, kissing down your navel as you were completely naked under this gown or robe they had given you when you first arrived, perhaps your other clothes had gotten dirty on your journey here when you stumbled into the underworld. The more you looked around the room, your new ‘bed chambers’ as they like to call it, the high ceilings and grand openings of the entrances to each room all gave off a dark victorian feel to it, the underworld was certainly different from your home, in the gardens, where you bloomed the brightest like the day you were born. You wondered how Lucifer can live in a place like this, to rule hell, where there was no life, no blossoming flowers or trees, no nothing!, it felt lonely, gloomy and quite depressing. Even if Lucifer had their demons who they ruled over, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you had to be in their position.  Maybe you understand their craving, whatever it is they want with you, because being here, alone for a millennium, ever since got shun them to this place.  That doesn’t seem fair at all.  Lucifer hummed, kissing down your navel as you gasped at the soft contact of their lips on your clit, they grinned up at you, placing more teasing kisses at your clit, causing your body to shudder as you whine, feeling more desperate for their touch, for a release.  “Oh Lucifer,” you moaned, “please, stop teasing.”  Their head shot up at the sound of their name falling from your lips like dripping honey, it was so sweet, Lucifer thought they have never in all eternity have heard their name sounding like that from someone’s lips, unless it was only out of fear, they were so used to that, with their frightened looks staring back at them, trembling at the sight of the devil, but in this light, there was something else, you didn’t look at them like they were the devil, you saw them out of the darkness.  Which was certainly enticing, it intrigued them immediately, wanting to bring out more pretty noises out of you.  Lucifer chuckled.  “Come on, little one, don’t shy away from me now” they cooed, cupping your face within their hand, “I want to hear you scream my name at the top of your lungs.”  And heavens above, did you sing.  Lucifer was f***ing skilled with their hands, their fingers were long, slim, easily slipping into your wet cunt that clenched around them and they moaned as you relished in the feeling that overtook you, something that you haven’t felt ever in your life, they knew this, of course they did.  You gripped onto their shoulders for dare life as whimpers and moans fell from your lips, the sound was so sweet to Lucifer that even if they had to let you go, they wouldn’t allow it, they would keep you here all to themself however they want.  You’re theirs and they were yours.  It’s only fair.  “L-lucifer” you gasped, your grip tightening, your hands now moved up to their hair, and it’s like you had imagined, their hair was just as soft as the clouds, “I’m gonna cum.”  “I know, darling, I know” they coo, their tongue swirling over your clit as they pump their fingers harder into you, “come for me, but you must vow to me, that you’ll never leave my side ever again, that you will rule beside me in the underworld for all eternity, and that I shall love you until the end of times.”  And of course, you agreed to their wishes, with a cry of their name falling from your lips like dripping honey.  You didn’t know what was to come after this, what you expected after you signed your soul away to Lucifer, the devil themself, but it was you that brought light into hell, it was you that brought a smile to Lucifer’s face, who never smiled, unless it was with wickedness, it was you who touched a dead flower in their kingdom and made it bloom for the very first time like a baby crying after being born, it was you, who melted lucifer’s cold heart and saw what others didn’t see in them.  After your arrival into hell, flowers began to bloom, even in the underworld, where all is lifeless. 0 Comments

09/01/2023 07:27 PM  What I missed the most(Zemo) It's strange to stand like this—so stiff and detached, practically naked in the lingerie and robe the madam had picked out for you. You're used to sitting coyly on the edge of a couch until someone makes their approach, skin glittering prettily in the partial darkness of the club. The room looks much too large when it’s flooded with the emergency lighting—used during the daylight hours when the club is closed—and the air is chilled with the lack of bodies. The mysterious patron, who had everyone in such a fuss this morning, is making his way down the line with the madam at his side—a quiet, thoughtful frown on his lips. It’s difficult not to stare, but your instincts keep your eyes from resting on him for too long. You’ll have to settle for the small details you catch in glimpses. He's well-dressed—a long coat thrown over his shoulders, and a well-fitted turtle-neck sweater beneath it. It sits snugly over his torso, hinting at a muscular build. The rest of him is unkempt in comparison; his hair just a bit shaggy, a few tendrils curling against his forehead. Most of his face is taken over by a dark beard, and he can't keep his hands away from it, scratching at his jawline beneath or dragging a palm down over his mouth. He must not be used to keeping facial hair. "And who is this?" He stops before you, his voice low and pleasant, carrying an accent you can't identify. You do your best to look demure, glancing up at him shyly through your lashes as the madam gives him your name. Dark brown eyes trace over your features carefully, the seconds melting into minutes under the warmth of his gaze. The intensity brings a heat to your cheeks; you find yourself staring at your reflection in his well-shined shoes. “How much?” The madam clears her throat awkwardly, but it's all part of her act. She could smell money on a man like blood in the water, and she always knew which veins to open first. "You wouldn't want her, Baron," she says, trying unsuccessfully to usher him down to the next girl, "we're charging quite a price for her first time. Why don't I introduce you to Cassandra here—" He stops her with a raised hand, tilting his head curiously. "Her first time?” "Oh yes," the madam confides. She leans in, whispering up against the shell of his ear, so close it’s incredible she doesn’t leave traces of her bright red lipstick smudged against his skin. "I have a few loyal customers who are quite eager to, let's say, take her innocence." She pets her bony fingers down the side of your face, and you purse your lips, trying hard not to roll your eyes. You'd hardly call yourself innocent. “How much?” The madam's lips stretch open over her too-white teeth, and she whispers again in his ear. He doesn't pause to think on it. “I’ll take her.” Your eyes grow wide, jaw clenched tight. No doubt the number she named was outrageous, preparing for his attempts to bargain. Accepting the very first offer would be insane. "Perfect." Her voice is dripping with glee when she addresses you, "why don't you show our guest to one of our private rooms?" You nod, taking him by the hand. The main floor of The Elysian is a veritable minefield of chintz cushions and plump couches, and you weave with him between the empty furniture, hoping he doesn't notice the growing layer of perspiration coating your palm. The silence between you grows more noticeable as you shut the door to the sound-proofed room, the plush carpet crackling with every step. You glance around. You haven't spent much time here, but you’re glad to see that the private rooms are a little more tasteful than what you’re used to. There's a leather couch up against the wall, and a large, low bed with silk sheets, a few multi-colored lanterns hanging from the ceiling, throwing specks of light across the bed. He busies himself near the couch, oblivious to your presence—removing his coat and draping over the back, taking the watch from his wrist and placing it in the pocket. He pushes the sleeves of his sweater out of the way next, revealing toned forearms dusted with bronzed hair. You clear your throat, brushing the top of one foot over the back of your calf, unsure if you're meant to be doing something. This is your first time, after all. You were hoping for some direction. "You may take a seat," he says, nodding towards the bed, and you do as you're told immediately, perching on the end of it, hands folded in your lap. "I am Baron Helmut Zemo," he says, coming to a stop beside you and dropping to one knee, "but you may call me sir." His fingers wrap around your bare thigh, hand shifting back and forth as he caresses your skin, acclimating you to his touch. He has nice hands—long, thick fingers and clean nails, and his palm is warm and soft. "Thank you, sir," you say, addressing his hand. "Look at me," the command is gentle, but it is still a command. You tilt your chin up just far enough that you can meet his eyes. "Is it true that you're a virgin?" Your mouth is dry. "Yes, sir." His fingers flex subtly, hand shifting higher. You try not to squirm. “You don’t need to lie to me.” Given how much he probably paid, it would be in your best interest to lie to him. If you weren’t already telling the truth. "I am a virgin—" you confirm, and he quirks one brow, waiting for you to remember, "—sir." The baron hums, deep in his throat. "That is good news. You see, I had selfish reasons for my choice. It has been a long time since I have been with a woman. I did not want to embarrass myself." That’s a surprise. A man as handsome as him shouldn't have any trouble finding someone willing. You chance some contact, stroking your fingers lightly over his shoulder, hoping you’ve found the correct balance between sympathy and flirtation. "Why so long?" "I've been in prison for many years. A high-security facility called The Raft, for only the most dangerous of criminals." Your hand stops. He watches you, waiting for a reaction—surprise, or fear. You certainly feel a bit of both. But which does he want? Some men certainly liked to feel you shiver, liked to murmur violent stories low in your ear as you perched on their laps. The feeling of their hands never left you, phantom limbs still gripping at your waist, ensuring that you couldn’t pull away, laughing at the way you squirmed. Fear sated better than sex ever could for men like that. The baron doesn’t seem that way. "Really?" you ask, sounding a little more naive than you feel. He seems to like it, moving his hand to the back of the neck, thick fingers wrapping around it, hot and tight against your skin. His eyes bore into yours; with the way he's holding you, you can't drop his gaze. "Do you know what I missed the most while I was there?" You manage the slightest shake of your head. His skin is dotted with freckles where the beard doesn’t reach, and there are dark shadows like fingerprints beneath his eyes. “This.” He breathes the word, breath warm with the scent of money and men, and then he's kissing you, mouthing gently at your parted lips. Oh. It's not like you'd never done this before—you hadn't gotten such a dedicated customer base batting your eyelashes—but he is leagues better at it than the others, his beard a little rough against your cheeks, the cashmere of his sweater soft beneath your fingers. He groans faintly, pressing closer, the tip of his nose digging in against your cheek as his tongue finds its way between your parted lips. His hand shifts from your neck, cupping your jaw, and he uses that leverage to his advantage—adjusting your movements to his liking, controlling the pace. Your fingers encircle his wrist, hoping to keep him there. It’s not like you to get so caught up in something like this, but you find the more you touch him, the more you want to feel—a warmth like whiskey blossoming in your stomach at the thought of the full press of his body against yours. He shifts off his knees, pulling away from your lips despite your attempts to keep him close. His thick fingers are at the buckle of his belt, unlatching the metal and pulling the leather strap free. Your thighs press tighter of their own accord, an unfamiliar anticipation enveloping your core. “You may be a virgin, but given the circumstances I'm sure you're not completely ignorant,” he says over the metallic jingle of his belt buckle and the rumble of his zipper, “show me what you know.” The baron steps forward, looming, coming closer and closer until your eyes are level with his waist, your line of sight filled completely by the thin sliver of skin and coarse, shining hair that stretches up from the band of his dark black boxers. Your gaze trails lower—slowly—examining him like a fine work of art, lips parting in surprise when you spy the thick bulge straining against the expensive fabric. He’s bigger than you expected. He must notice your apprehension, a smirk on his lips staining the words he speaks next. “Go on,” he encourages, taking your hand delicately in his own, leading you where he wants, pressing your palm against the hard length, the rush of blood and heavy weight of his c*ck solid beneath your fingers. Your lips part with a pop, mouth flooded with saliva that coats your tongue. You press it between your teeth, wetting your lips, picking up the latent taste of him. It’s irresistible. You want more. He exhales sharply through his teeth, bracing himself with a hand in your hair as you pull his c*ck from its confines. Jesus, he’s thick. Even half-hard, he’s bigger than most—the tips of your fingers just barely brushing your thumb when you stroke him experimentally. You’re not sure how much of him you’ll be able to take, throat aching at the thought. The air in the room is heavy in your lungs. “Don’t tease me, hase,” he admonishes, pulling you forward until your mouth brushes against the tip of his d*ck, painting your lips with sticky pre-cum. “I have no desire to be patient right now.” Swallowing, you pull closer, taking the tip into the warm center of your mouth, tonguing softly at the slit, sealing your lips and pulling your cheeks in tight. He sighs, shifting his hips forward, filling your mouth and stretching your jaw, pressing down until your lips meet your curled fingers. Spit pools against his skin, and you spread it with your hand, stroking in the space where your mouth can’t reach. You can feel him growing thicker, the muscles in his fingers tensing against your scalp as you begin to bob your head, sucking your cheeks in tighter. “Oh, you’re a very good girl, aren’t you? Just like that, hase.” You can hear the smile in his voice, it’s brightness echoed in the warmth at your core. It’s easy to imagine how he must look, those broad shoulders dropping lower, neck stretched long and tense, his molten eyes leaving cigarette burns on the backs of his eyelids and his lips parted in prayer. As soon as you’ve pictured it, your body screams for more—desperate to watch him fall apart in your mind’s eye, addicted to the idea of undoing such an enigmatic, powerful man. Your fist tightens around his d*ck, and you stretch yourself farther, taking more and more until the head of his c*ck nudges your soft palate, eliciting a quiet gagging sound with each press. Stinging tears pool at the corners of your eyes. His fist tightens in your hair, urging you away from him with a few whispered curses, pouring from his lips in a language you don’t understand. You do as he asks, pulling back until you’re only connected to his c*ck by a few strings of saliva. “God, schatz—” he strokes his thumb over your wet and swollen lips, “you are beautiful.” Your nails press crescent moons against your thighs. He’s breathing heavily, standing before you like a god, or an emperor. He’s the kind of man who could have you willingly on your knees. “Thank you, sir.” He strokes his hand down over your shoulder, eyeing the delicate lace that covers your body. “Lay down.” You shift back against the pillows as the baron stands at the end of the bed, stripping off his sweater. He’s well-toned, but not bulky—arms corded with muscle he’s clearly put to use for more than just vanity, broad chest peppered with ruddy hair, and constellations of freckles on both his shoulders. “Do you like what you see, hase?” he asks once he’s fully naked, standing before you without shame. He observes you closely, noticing the way your eyes travel over the ruddy skin of his neck, the gentle swell of his stomach, his c*ck hard and thick and ready for you. Your cunt aches at the sight of him. “Yes, sir.” You’re unable to control the shift of your hips, the way your body yearns. You want him on top of you, want his hands at your waist, want his lips against every inch of your body. You want him inside you. He climbs onto the bed, stradling your body, and you support your weight on your arms in an attempt to bring your face in closer proximity to his own. His eyes wander over your features, lingering against your lips. You resist the urge to close the gap, despite the overwhelming strength of your desire. You're here to meet his needs. But maybe your needs align in this moment—or maybe he likes the hint of desperation in your features—because he cups your jaw in his warm palm, eyes exploring the recesses of your soul as he pulls you in. You kiss him back eagerly, letting your hands caress his neck, stroking your ankle against his calf until he grants you the contact you've been hungry for, his chest and hips against yours, forcing your body further into the mattress. You relish the wandering burn of his hands, the wildfire path from your hips to your waist to your breasts. His touch lingers there, and your skin grows warm with a rush of blood as he pinches at the stiffened peaks of your nipples. The air punches out of your chest, and the sound it makes is embarrassingly close to a whine, your hips canting off the sheets. He leans back, watching your lips tremble as he continues his ministrations. "I think it's time for this to come off," he whispers, leaning in towards your thudding pulse as his hands reach for the clasp of your bra. The lace tickles at your skin, stripped forward until you're bare. He tosses the garment to the side, pressing firm kisses across your jaw, down your neck. "I may have lied before, hase," he says, and the air is filled with quiet reverence as he stares at your naked breasts. "This is what I truly missed the most." There’s no space for you to reply before his lips are on you, lavishing the tender skin of your chest with hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses, the gentle bites in direct contrast to the sharp burn of his beard. He's fully engrossed in the task, ignorant of the way you watch him partake in this thorough worship, nibbling meticulously at the surrounding area before closing his lips around your aching nipple, sucking it between his teeth. Your back arches harshly, head thrown back, and you let his strong arms support your weight as he turns his attention to the other breast. You dig your nails into his skin, gripping the back of his neck, hard enough to make him bleed. Maybe if you peeled the skin from his bones, he'd finally feel close enough. “Oh god, please,” you grind against him, your voice going shrill when the tip of his c*ck nudges haphazardly at your cunt, “please, sir. I want you inside me.” He pauses his assault, stills his hips which had been rocking against yours with the same unchecked desire. He stays still enough for you to catch the gold flecks in his eyes, the wet shine of spit coating the dark hairs at the corners of his mouth. There’s a tremor in his throat, a subtle shift as he adjusts his hands, pulling one arm tighter at your waist to give the other range of motion. His fingers tremble in the corner of your vision, and whatever it is he plans to do, he hesitates. “Of course, schatz. Whatever you want,” he whispers, committing to the movement, stroking the tips of his fingers down the curve of your cheek, and you finally understand. Tenderness like that doesn’t belong in a place like this, between people like you. He cups the back of your neck as your spine meets the cool sheets, his other hand at your hip, sliding the lace of your underwear down off your thighs and tossing them to the side. “God . . . you’re so wet for me.” He strokes one thick finger between your thighs, just enough pressure to part your lips and gather your slick on the tip of his finger. “Are you always this wet, hase? Do you get like this when you're f***ing yourself?" You shake your head, although you can tell based on his tone that he already knows. He adjusts, shifting the bulk of his weight onto his thighs, removing his hips from yours and you stifle a whine at the loss. It breaks through your parted lips moments later as he presses the head of his d*ck against your swollen entrance. He lingers there for a moment, stroking gently between your folds; there's not enough force behind the movement for him to slip inside you—only enough contact to make you squirm. “Do you think you’re ready for me?” You’ve never felt more ready for anything. You can feel the pressure of his eyes, and so you know he must see the way your brows crease as your cunt stretches to accommodate that first, thick inch, must notice the rhythmic tensing in your core, the tremors in your thighs. You know he hears the strange cry that bursts from you—an intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain—because he stops, petting a hand over your hair. “You can take me, hase. I know you can. Relax.” His breath is hot against your neck, and there’s a hand at your hip, holding you in place. “Relax.” He mouths at your neck, tracing a meandering path to your lips. He moves closer, and closer, the tension draining from your body, putting a slight shift in your hips. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he warns, but the message is lost on both of you, his mouth fully on yours in a messy, desperate kiss. His thrusts grow more fervent, a little chorus of moans echoing in the space between you—his deep with attempted restraint, yours high and aching. You can feel the thrum of his heartbeat under your hand. "You’re doing so well, hase,” he says, once he’s finally fully seated inside you, “tell me how it feels.” You manage a breathy moan. The world is dark on the inside of your eyelids. He gives you a moment to adjust, and you need it—overcome with a fullness you can’t quite comprehend. Your cunt bears down on his cock, muscles clenching like you’re trying to find the edges of him in the dark, like you’re trying to keep him in place. You close your eyes tightly, hard enough that white spots appear in your vision, jaw open wide. You can’t imagine how devastating it will feel to be empty again. His hands are harsh at your cheeks, biting against your skin. “No, hase. Keep your eyes open. Look at me.” You don’t dare disobey, not that he gives you the opportunity to do so, his grip on your jaw tightening, the full force of his eyes on yours. He doesn’t let go, thrusting in and out of your dripping cunt, filling the room with the measured sound of skin against skin. His hips never stutter, his pace never fails, pounding you into the mattress as the friction builds into a white hot heat in your core. He’s absolutely relentless. He stares openly, intent on cataloging your every expression—from the slightest twitch in your temple to the wide stretch of your lips. You watch his eyes roam your face, watch the thin sheen of pride and sweat bead across his forehead with every successful moan he loosens from your throat. You’re only getting wetter—each thrust echoing with the wet splash of your cunt. You can feel it dripping down the curve of your ass, pooling beneath you. He grunts, the first hints of his restraint fracturing, his jaw tight. “God, schatz. You are a miracle.” His body moves against yours, adjusting your position, posing your body like a marionette with his free hand, his other never leaving your jaw. Your knee presses higher towards your chest under the weight of his palm, and you feel the burn of the stretch at the mouth of your p**sy, every sensation heightened as he thrusts into you at this new angle. Your neck stretches back, forcing your head against the pillow, and you can’t decide if there’s a ringing in your ears or if those noises are coming from you, in time with every thrust. The borders of your body grow blurry, dissolving as more and more of you is consumed by the feeling of him. Every muscle in your body goes tight. He’s so deep you can feel the head of his d*ck nudging at your soul. “Are you close, hase?” he asks, and you nod into his palm, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes. His whisper reaches you through the oceans of your pleasure. “You can cum, schatz. Go on. Let go for me.” The light inside you breaks once he’s given permission, pouring out in jagged shards, leaving no part of you untouched. Chill air brushes against sweaty skin, your back arching from off the sticky sheets, cunt clenched tight around his cock, holding him deep inside you. You feel remade, taken apart and put back together by his steady hands, forged anew under his warm, soft lips. Your body fizzles, the result of some chemical transformation you don’t understand, only partially aware of his continued thrusts, the warm spill of his cum as he’s buried tight in your p**sy, chest heaving against yours and his hand at your neck. Puffs of hot air from his lungs dissipate against your collar bone, cooling the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you over him like a blanket holding you close until long after it dries. His fingers trace soft patterns over skin, tapping a melody only he can hear. You give up on keeping your eyes open. His chest makes a comfortable pillow, with the untroubled beat of his heart and the safe harbor of his arms. It’s tempting to allow yourself to drift off; your heart twinges at the idea that you could fall asleep and wake up in his arms. Like every other man, he must be able to sense the thoughts of commitment, because he sits up, shifting you from his lap—gently, at least. You can’t help the whine you let out when he slips his c*ck from inside you; your body left emptier than it had been before. He smirks, sitting at the edge of the bed with his eyes directed between your thighs. Your skin grows flushed—feeling the slow drip of his cum slide out of your aching cunt. Your legs move to close, a sick feeling crawling over your skin. It feels wrong to have him look at you now that he’s gotten what he paid for. He slips his fingers in the space between just before your thighs meet, catching the dripping spend on his thumb, spreading it across your tender opening, just barely brushing your clit. Your lips part with an unbidden moan. "Still so needy, even after i just f***ed you, hase?” he asks, the corner of his mouth turned up proudly, “that's good. I like my women insatiable." He stands, all business as he grabs his clothing from the floor, reassembling his wardrobe. “We should be going,” he says, “there are places to be; I can have someone collect your things.” He doesn’t notice your confusion, shrugging his coat over his shoulders, only turning back to you once he’s reached the door. “Aren’t you coming, hase?” “Coming? With you?” “Of course, if you’d like,” he says. “You’d be taken care of, for as long as you choose to stay.” There’s a warmth in your bones at the thought of it, even if it doesn’t make sense. “Why me?” “Schatz,” he walks back to you, petting a finger under your chin, “when I find something I like, I must have it.” 0 Comments

[ This blog post is private ]

08/31/2023 10:16 PM  Frustration "God f***ing damn it!" Your frustrated curse echoed off the walls of your bedroom, followed by a dull thump of your vibrator falling on the mattress. You sat up begrudgingly and flopped over the bed, reaching for the charger and plugging in the toy. You huffed, sitting on the bed for a few moments before tugging your shorts back on and standing, leaving your bedroom to go explore the great unknown: your apartment. The sound of the television was more audible when your door opened, the white and blue lights from the TV tinting the entire living room and kitchen area in a cold glow. While your eyes needed a second to adjust to the change from the dim, warm light of your room, Bucky, your roommate, was staring blankly at the television, listening to the newscaster droning on while sifting through a bowl of cereal with a spoon. You didn't greet him, despite the tiny alarm in your head telling you it was bad manners. You stomped past him, headed for the fridge to find leftover pasta. Once a bowl was heated up, you stomped around over to the couch, flopping down beside him. Bucky raised a brow. "You doin' alright?" He asked through a mouthful of cereal. "Yeah." "Then stop stabbing your pasta." You looked down to see your fork digging into the bottom of the bowl, spearing through the noodles with more aggression than was necessary. "I'm fine." "Wanna tell me?" Your mind raced just at the thought of his suggestion. "No. Nothing's wrong." "Ah." He turned back to the television, one leg crossing over the other. "Thought it might have somethin' to do with your vibrator dying on you." You nearly choked, head whipping around to watch him incredulously. "How-" "TV ain't on that loud." He snorted. You buried your face in your palms, cheeks warm. Bucky only laughed at your mortification. "Hey, it's all good." Bucky waved a hand in dismissal, you caught it as you lifted your head. Your gaze somehow got stuck on it, specifically, his fingers. The thought of them on you made the heat in between your legs flare up again. You could practically feel them tilting your chin up, tugging your hips closer, prodding into your cunt... Bucky seemed to notice your sudden interest, looking between your eyes to his hand and back with curiosity. He let out a soft 'ah', a grin of delight splitting his face. When you finally clocked in on his understanding, silent but knowing, you looked down in what was definitely the least subtle way possible. "Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I can't remember a time when hands didn't get the job done." That didn't help your embarrassment, and for some reason you continued the conversation. "Well, I can't get the right angle..." Bucky exhaled, passing his tongue over his teeth. "Tell me to shut up if I've got the wrong idea. But I have hands." You peeked out from your hands. He wiggled his metal fingers slowly as if to prove the obvious. "I think you've noticed." All of the thoughts you'd wrestled with moments ago came flooding in again. Sparks of excitement shot down your belly, and you swore your heartrate doubled. You attempted to keep an even voice, but nonchalance definitely escaped you for the timebeing. "So... what's your point?" You were terrified you might have misread the situation. That this excitement would die down and you'd be left wanting him. You needed him to tell you. "My point is," Bucky uncrossed his legs, turning to face you and leaning forward. "That I'm offering to do what your vibrator can't." You were shivering with excitement, voice shaking as you sighed, "Please." Bucky stood slowly, pushing off of the couch with his hands. His gaze was fixated on you, bordering on ravenous as he eyed you up and down. He relished the way your eyes followed his, and as a result, when he finally towered over you, he was met with a sight that made his c*ck throb. You could feel your head turning cloudy, anticipation bubbling in your stomach as you peered up at Bucky. A single, metal hand came up to your chin, stroking slowly over the bone. Your eyes fluttered, leaning into his touch. "Poor thing." Bucky tutted, shaking your head side to side a bit. "So pitiful. Can't even get off right, needs a toy to get the job done." You whimpered when he used his grip on your jaw to make you nod yes. "Shh, you're okay. 'M right here, gonna take good care of you. Yeah?" "Yeah," you replied weakly. "Good." Bucky let go of your face, opting to sit on the couch instead, legs spread wide. He patted one of his thighs, gesturing with the other. "C'mon, take a seat." You crawled over him, hands resting on his shoulders tentatively. Bucky traced a finger up the column of your throat, sending a shiver down your spine. The pressure on the underside of your jaw brought your gaze upwards. "Gonna need you to keep your eyes on me, dove, think y'can do that?" You nodded slowly, itching to move but frozen in place by his attention. "Good." Bucky's hand was a whisper around your throat, quickly finding its home again on your jaw. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, to which your mouth fell open oh so slightly. His lips quirked in amusement. His thumb pressed down, earning your jaw lowering further. Two fingers slipped past your lips to settle on your tongue and you happily took them, one hand coming to hold his wrist in place while you suckled. His free hand began rising up your hips, and you straightened your posture at the feeling, almost tickling. They descended just after his thumb grazed your lower chest. You gasped around his fingers, and his subtle raise of brow made your cheeks heat. You squeezed his wrist, and it moved from your mouth to your waist. Hands reaching for the back of his neck, you tugged him forward into a sloppy kiss. Bucky wasn't sure where the line was before. He understood that he had struck a purely sexual deal offer, so kissing for some might be too intimate an exchange under those circumstances, but Christ did he love the feel of your mouth on his. The clash of teeth and spit, your soft moans swallowed up into his own mouth sounding like heaven. Even more so when he sucked on your tongue, pride coursing through his veins when you squeaked. And oh, you just couldn't help it, when you started rocking your hips back and forth. It was his fault really, teasing you so much. "So f***in' needy, angel, just can't wait, huh?" Bucky groaned, head falling back for a minute before jerking back up. "Need to get you taken care of, isn't that right?" You nodded pathetically, brain long turned to mush. Your senses, every atom in your body was on fire and so, so sensitive, but your head was empty. And Bucky knew it. Which is why he lifted you up, strong hands supporting you under the thighs, which wrapped around his torso to keep you up. Bucky groaned, the feel of your legs around his waist sending blood rushing to his cock. It was a messy trip to your room, to say the least. Bucky had to stop multiple times in the hallway to press you up against the wall and stick his tongue in your throat, rutting into you and breathing heavy into your mouth. His groans were pure sin and you wanted to pull as many of them from him as you could. Bucky set you down gently, but as you laid, he remained, towering over you with hungry eyes and bated breath. "Look at you," Bucky grazed his metal fingers over your cheek. "So f***in' needy, hm? So desperate, you just hop on the first d*ck you see." His words didn't even register, not when his leg was pressed right between your legs, so you nodded along dumbly. He chuckled, almost a bark of a laugh. "Lucky I'm here to take care of you, hm?" "Yeah," you sighed, your feeble grip on his shirt attempting to tug him closer. "Please, Bucky, need you to take care of me, please..." "Alright, alright, I've gotcha." Bucky leaned in, pressing wet kisses to your neck whilst his fingers slipped under your shirt, grazing feather-light over your nipples. You could feel him smirk when you arched into his touch. "Can we take this off, baby?" His voice was soft, and you nodded, pulling your hands up so he could bare your chest. Bucky gave a groan at the sight, his mouth traveling downward to press licks and kisses over your chest. He pressed his palm over your ribs, indicating you to lie back. Bucky followed, propped up on his arm. His other hand walked up the inside of your thigh, making you shudder into him. "Buck, please," you breathed, eyes rolling back. "Nuh uh, none of that." Bucky's hand was quick to reach up and grasp your jaw, this time with more force. "Eyes on me." He nodded your head for you. He maintained a more intense stare as he moved, slowly and deliberately, down between your thighs. He watched you as he kissed up and down your thighs, pressed his thumb into the junction between your cunt and your leg, pressed a firm kiss to the area just above your clit. Your hips jerked up, following his touch. "I know, I know. Bein' so patient, so proud of you." Bucky purred, tugging your bottoms down in one go. "And would you look at that, no underwear. God, you're soaked." Bucky actually moaned at the sight, like the idea of going down on you was pleasurable for him. And Lord, was it. He started with, for lack of better word, toying with you, thumbs pulling your lips apart to watch your slick web from them. Even though he wasn't watching your face anymore, your eyes were glued to him. His fascinated expression, his strong arms holding your legs apart, his toned back rippling under every movement- somewhere along the line he had lost the shirt; you couldn't remember when but Christ was it better he did. You nearly levitated off the bed when a finger came to collect your slick onto your clit, followed by lips attaching to the nerves and tonguing over it lasciviously. Your hesitancy to make noise had gone out the window the minute his mouth was on you, jaw falling open to let out your sounds of bliss. The only thing keeping your head from falling back was the sight in front of you; Bucky was pure sex incarnate. His head swayed back and forth, groans and muffled praises vibrating against your skin, hair tickling your thighs. "Taste so damn good angel, so f***in' wet." Bucky tugged you impossibly closer- you swore you saw his hips moving into the sheets. "Should let your vibrator die more often." Your breath had all but escaped you, coming out ragged and whiny. Your hands reached for his hair, tugging at the roots softly- harder when he groaned louder, sending both of you into a frenzy. "F***, Bucky, right there, f***f***f***-" your noises, if even possible, got louder when the man under you found just the right spot to prod his finger. It slipped in so easily, the wetness helping you welcome him in. It didn't take Bucky long to figure out where that spot was inside of you, pulling moan after gasp after cry of his name once he bullied his fingers into it just right. He repeated the motion until there was a sheen of sweat on your forehead, grasping onto his hair, his arm, whatever of him you could find as if he was your lifeline. "Oh, just like that, so close Buck..." You kicked your hips up into his face, rolling them for any kind of friction you could get- friction he was elated to give you. You nearly sobbed when he pulled his face away from you, fingers leaving your p**sy feeling unbearably empty. "I know, honey, I know. Gonna give you something even better, hm? Gonna give you my cock, fill y'up real nice." You almost drooled at the sight of Bucky sat up, nothing but sweats being hastily pulled down until the bulge fell heavily over the band. He kicked his bottoms away to some forgotten corner, stroking himself languidly a few times, kicking his head back. You whined a bit at the lack of attention, thighs pressing together. That seemed to have alerted Bucky, as he tilted his head back down to face you. "Sorry, sunshine. Won't keep you waitin' any longer, yeah?" Bucky lined himself up with you, teasing your sopping entrance with the tip. However, when your legs hooked around his waist, just like before, all notions of control were lost on him as he sheathed himself inside of you. A guttural groan, more sensual and more animalistic than before, ripped through him and sent sparks shooting into you. He stretched you deliciously, the friction electrifying. "Don't f***in' clench, holy sh*t- not gonna last long," Bucky huffed, rocking slowly into you. He was leaned over your body, almost folding you in half so that he could mutter filthy praises into your ear, tonguing at the shell of it lightly. If he wasn't gonna last, what could be said of you? Your orgasm was approaching fast, if your throbbing cunt and frantic moans were any indication. "There we go, y'gonna cum? F***in' cum for me, honey, make a mess on my cock, go on." White-hot pleasure drowned you as you scratched faint pink lines down Bucky's chest. This time your eyes screwed shut, but Bucky chose instead to help you ride out your high, pistoning into you until he let himself go, filling you up in a way that left you feeling warm and full and very, very satisfied. Only the sound of yours and Bucky's panting could be heard in the room, the air suddenly thick and musky with the smell of sex. After a moment, he pulls out, murmuring 'sh*t' to himself a few times. "Gonna get you cleaned up, 'kay?" Bucky pressed a kiss to your temple, picking his boxers up on the way to his ensuite bathroom and coming back with a rag a minute later. "Feeling alright?" Bucky asks. "Didn't hurt you, did I?" "No, you were great." You huffed, a stupid hazy grin tugging your lips. "Bit thirsty, that's about it." "Noted," he mused. "I meant it, by the way." You cocked your head. "Meant what?" "You should let your vibrator die more often. I'm just two doors down, and I reckon I know a few more tricks than that piece of junk you've got." He gestures to the vibrator, which had fallen onto the floor at some point. You definitely made sure to keep that in mind. 0 Comments

08/31/2023 10:11 PM  Bucky time It was almost four in the morning, and Bucky woke up following a bad dream, unable to fall back asleep. He crept out of bed, shuddering as the chilled air flirted across his bare chest, and walked softly to the kitchen. Blue-hued moonlight slid in through the windows, casting rays on the linoleum floor, pushing back the shadows. Bucky crossed the cupboard above the sink and removed a glass, filling it with water. Sipping at the cool liquid, he stared out the window at the moon-lit yard below and cleared his head of the day's thoughts. A noise behind him caused his focus to shift. Bucky turned and saw you standing there, his faded old shirt hung down below your waist, the only thing you had on. As you stepped into the moonlight, he felt a stirring between his legs, and flushed in the darkness. Bucky realised that you couldn’t see the growing bulge in his boxers, not in the shadows of the night. You stepped towards him, removed the glass from his metal hand and took a sip yourself. You placed the now empty glass on the counter and as you did, Bucky caught the briefest of glimpses of your exposed ass as the shirt you had on momentarily rose. You wore nothing but a white lace thong underneath. His boxers tightened, doing little to hide himself from you. Turning back to face Bucky you closed the distance between you both with each breath. You stood barely inches from him, your eyes glimmering in the darkness. "Can't sleep?", you asked innocently enough, your finger traced the contours of the muscles on his chest across to where his skin met the metal of his arm. "No...Not tired", he murmured, as he stepped forward, sliding his hands around your waist, cupping them down over your ass. Metal and flesh. He pulled you closer, letting you wrap your dainty arms around his neck. "What shall we do, now that we're awake..?". "I can think of a few things I'd like to do...", Bucky grinned, as your lips met in a passionate kiss. Your lips opened and your tongues sensuously explored one another. You broke your embrace, walking backwards towards the kitchen table. You beckoned Bucky with your finger, a slow, sensual movement. He followed, stepping across the broken shards of moonlight on the linoleum floor. The odd ray glinting against his metal arm. You sat up on the kitchen table and slid backwards, spreading your legs ever so slightly, allowing him just a glimpse of your core. That brief tease drove Bucky on. He stepped towards the table, reaching forward and pulled the old t-shirt over your head and tossed it behind him. It floated like a leaf to the floor, a soft crumple met your ears. The cool moonlight played across your skin, creating a perfect contrast of shadows and light, basking you in an ethereal glow. He reached forward, wrapping his arms around your back and you kissed again. In the moonlight your tongues explored one another in the dark. Slow. Bucky sighed into the kiss, you tasted sweet, like ripened strawberries, freshly picked. He wanted more. Once more, you broke the embrace, pulling back ever so slightly. He stepped back, curious and eager. You leant back on your hands, spreading your legs. Bucky’s gaze shifted, from your intensely beautiful eyes, to your breasts, down to the crevice between your thighs, hidden just behind the flimsy fabric of the thong. "Something caught your eye Barnes...?", you whispered in the dark. "Yes", he breathed heavily, although the growing warmth in his groin spoke for itself. You took one of his fingers and delicately licked it, up and down before placing it in your mouth and sucking on it. Bucky groaned quietly and you saw the shiver run over his skin. Removing it from your mouth, you left behind a slight strand of saliva that fell from your lips onto your breasts. You gazed down at yourself, grinning impishly in the steel-blue moonlight. Your finger traced the curves of your breasts, leaving a trail of sticky, wet, glistening saliva, across them, around to your nipples, pebbled and erect from the cool air and the warmth radiating inside your body. You stared at Bucky intently as you circled your nipples with your wet finger. He could feel a shortness and quickness of breath coming on, a fever beginning to kindle inside his body. You slid your wet finger down between your glistening breasts, over your smooth stomach, and down to the darkness between your legs. Bucky couldn’t see between your legs, the light of the moon not reaching there, but he watched as your finger disappeared into it, moving in slow circles around it, as your eyelids half-closed in pleasure and private thoughts while you teased yourself. You know how much he likes to watch when you do this. Your hand began to move rhythmically, methodically, your eyes completely closed, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Bucky felt a voyeuristic thrill, as if he was watching something private. Something that's only supposed to take place behind closed doors, where there were no prying eyes. The motion of your hand between your legs stopped, and you slowly withdrew your fingers from their hidden place of pleasure. You re-traced the trail of saliva on your stomach, leaving a wetter, stickier path this time. Made from the product of your own excitement. You circled your nipples again, until they glistened with beads of your slick, and then you took your fingers, almost dripping with your wetness, and placed them up to your lips, ever so delicately. “Doll…”, Bucky murmured into the silent air. You teased your fingers around your plump lips, as you did the folds between your legs, until they, too, glistened in the moonlight. You opened your mouth, licking your fingers up and down, sucked on them, drawing them into your mouth, tasting yourself, tasting your arousal, your sex. You popped your fingers from your mouth, still dripping with your sex and your saliva, and offered them to Bucky. He stepped forward, taking your wrist with his hand, and kissed your fingers, tasting the nectar, tasting you. He traced his tongue along them, mildly disappointed that the taste of your arousal was almost gone, lost somewhere in your own mouth. He tried to recover it. Your lips locked, tongues dancing once again. This time, Bucky tasted your desire, the very essence of your arousal, and he wanted more of it, badly. The bulge in his boxers brushed against the darkness between your legs as you wrapped them around him. He felt the already soaking wet cloth of the thong dampen his boxers. Bucky thrust against your hips, ever so slightly, but he knew you could feel it when you arched your neck and moaned. He kissed along your throat, tracing his wet tongue down to your breasts. He followed the trail you left for him, the sweet, sticky path that followed the voluptuous curves of your breasts, your hardened nipples, down your toned stomach, into the tempting darkness between your legs. Your thong was soaked, your slick, dripping onto the surface where you were perched. Bucky slipped it down your smooth, silky legs with his teeth, his calloused hand massaging your ass and the undersides of your thighs. He slowly guided your legs apart, gently kissing the insides of your thighs, licking up and down the insides of your legs torturously slow. Feeling you tremble in anticipation. You couldn’t restrain yourself any longer, as Bucky teased the outside of your wet folds with his tongue. You reached down with two fingers, rubbing your swollen clit in anticipation, purring his name low in your throat. Finally, he gave you what you both wanted, his tongue flitted across your clit, causing a moan to escape your pursed lips, head tilted back as waves of pleasure radiated through your body. He pushed your hand away and replaced it with his own, inching them slowly into your p**sy. Your hips began to buck and tremble with the combined pleasure of Bucky’s tongue and fingers. He probed deeper with his tongue, sliding it deep into your dripping slit, then flicking circles across your clit. You squeezed your thighs and started rolling your hips in rhythm with his fingers, his hot tongue driving you wild. Bucky could taste you cumming, he could feel it in the way you drove your hips, in the way your breath came shorter, harder. You panted, as another long, low moan breached your lips. His fingers slid in and out of you faster, his lips wrapped around your sensitive clit. Your body shook hard, causing the table you were sat on to rock with you. With a sharp cry of his name, your body spasmed beneath his tongue. Another gasp of pleasure erupted from deep within you. Bucky groaned against your core and continued, curling his tongue through you. Your body jerked, as the ecstasy rolled through you bitterly, edging you into another intense climax. Bucky gently kissed your folds, then planted more along the insides of your thighs, your sweetness still on his tongue and lips. He mapped up your trembling stomach, your panting chest, still glistening from your sweat and sex, up your neck to your mouth. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled your trembling body up, so that you were sat on the edge of the table. You looped your arms behind his neck and pulled him in close, until your mouths merged. Your lips trembled as they met his, your body still pulsed with the echoes of your orgasm. Bucky kissed you softly, slowly, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. The tang of your slick made the coil in the pit of your stomach twist, igniting the desire again. Aroused by your own taste, you pulled him on top of you, on the table. His boxers were ripped away urgently, your hands dragged him closer to whisper in his ear, "I want you inside of me…I need you inside of me…now”. He obliged and kissed you passionately, before slipping into your tight, wet slit. You moaned loudly, feeling his thick c*ck stretch your p**sy. He slid in and out of you, grasping the back of your neck with his metal hand, caressing your face with his flesh fingers, as he thrust harder. Time ceased to exist as pleasure enveloped both of your bodies, the sensations ebbed and flowed. Increasing in strength and intensity. The tingling of euphoria burst through every nerve in your bodies. Waves of intense pleasure washed over Bucky as your wet walls clenched tightly around his shaft. Your eyes started to roll to the back of your head, your thoughts hazy with lust and desire wrapped up in all that was Bucky. Just as you were both about to approach release, you locked eyes with him, a sly grin playing across your moonlit face. You stopped, pushing his solid chest. "Wha-", he couldn’t spit the words out, as the sensation of pleasure dissipated from his body as you slowly disengaged yourself. That look still on your face, mischief and arousal shone in your eyes. You placed a finger upon his lips, shushing him softly. You pushed him back, gently, from the table's edge, and slowly slid off until your bare feet met the linoleum again. Bucky stared at you quizzically, not quite comprehending what was unfolding before him. You lowered yourself to your knees, smirking up at him. Suddenly, he understood and took a step towards you. Extending your tongue, you met his throbbing cock, tracing the vein on the underside slowly. He gasped as you blew on the tip of his length, the combination of your warm breath on the end, your tongue running its length and your soft, smooth hand gently grasping and stroking pushed Bucky into a storm of bliss. You plunged your lips over the head of his cock, sliding your tongue along the length of his shaft. All the way down, and all the way back up, making a soft smacking sound as your lips released him. You glanced up at Bucky, witnessing the intense pleasure pass over his handsome face. You smiled and repeated. Again. And again. And again. Bucky stroked your hair, threading his vibranium fingers through the strands, wanting to whisper his gratefulness, his appreciation, his love. Anything. But he found himself at a complete loss for words as a wave of euphoria passed over his body, causing him to gasp aloud. A shuddering sigh escaped the moonlight, along with his hot, sticky release. You swallowed most of it, but you didn’t stop the bobbing motion of your head, the swirling of your tongue or the caress of your lips. The ecstasy was almost more than Bucky could bear, as you swept up the last physical remnants of his release from his shaft and head, swallowing it down. Groaning, Bucky lowered his trembling body to the ground next to you. He wrapped his numb arms around you, kissing you sweetly as you both embraced, tasting himself on your tongue. He groaned quietly, enjoying the tang. You both laid quivering on the kitchen floor, the aftershocks of your orgasms buzzing through your bodies. In the moonlight, Bucky could see the sheen of sweat covering your skin, making you glow. You both sighed happily in the moonlight. Basking in your own sonata. 0 Comments

08/31/2023 10:06 PM  Part 2 arranged marriage Bucky Barnes was sitting right across from you. His long brown hair was neat and smooth but hiding his face. He wore a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. That's really hot, was the first thing that popped into your head. You immediately chastised yourself - now is aggressively not the time. He had a subtle stubble and dark circles, which made his light eyes stand out. The look on his face confused you. You could tell he was pissed, but when his eyes met yours, it turned to...pity? Guilt? Embarrassment? He could barely look at you. Before you had time to analyze the meaning behind his expression, his lawyer started talking. "Sergeant Barnes has a few stipulations regarding this study. He WILL participate, as his contract demands, and he will do so without resistance. However, he will only be paired with one test subject. If this young lady is the only viable candidate you have for the study, after all these years, then I would assume she will be the one." "You can't make demands like this, the study may require more than one test subject who could produce offspring. His request is denied," the woman flatly responded. "With all due respect, you've spent years looking for a subject who has even the slightest possibility of moving forward with the study. It would be foolish to jeopardize his complacency for the chance you MIGHT find another subject. Now if you don't mind, I was not finished with his request," the lawyer retorted. "Sergeant Barnes would like to uphold the young lady's honor. If he is to produce a child with this woman, he would like to do so properly. He would like to propose a marriage arrangement, along with their own house free from your poking and prodding." The woman looked to the others in the room, took a deep breath, and relented. "Alright, if Barnes wants to live his little apple-pie life, we'll sign off on it. But the timeline for an expected pregnancy just moved up. And let me make this very clear: you are not in a position to make any more demands. After your little stunt last week, you're on thin f***ing ice." With that, she and the others left the room, leaving you alone with Bucky and his lawyer. "I'll get the marriage license in order, as well as negotiate your living quarters. I'll keep in touch. Who knows what timeline they're expecting now." The lawyer finished packing his briefcase and walked towards the door. No no no no, please don't leave me alone with him, you thought. I don't know what to do or say. Where do I even go? Back to the hotel? After all of this? The sound of the door closing made you jump, even though you knew it was coming. You looked down at your wringing hands, bursting with nervous energy, unsure of what to do next. Do you introduce yourself? Make small talk? Was someone going to escort you back to the hotel? Your mind was reeling. You knew for a fact your face was flushed and your eyebrows were furrowed, which made you even more embarrassed. You decided you'd ask him what happened last week that put him on thin ice. Just as you mustered the courage to ask, he spoke up. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. His voice was raspy and low, barely a whisper. This confused you. Isn't he just as much a victim as you are? "I don't understand," you responded, "this isn't your fault. We're both trapped." He nodded slowly, trying desperately to keep composure. "If it weren't for me, there would be no study. You wouldn't even be here," he said. He was getting angry, his volume slowly increasing. So much for keeping his cool. "Now you're stuck. With me. I'm trying to do the right thing, but you don't understand, I'm not a good person. I've killed people. A lot of people. And now you're stuck." He stood up and started pacing the room. You felt the need to console him, but you weren't quite sure where to start. How do you calm down the Winter Soldier? "Bucky listen to me. This is not your fault. We're in the same boat; we need to be a team. That's the only way we're gonna get through this." You stood up and slowly made your way towards him. "You're not getting it - we don't 'get through this.' This is forever. This is the rest of our lives. The rest of our kids' lives. There is no happy ending, it's just being lab rats until we die." His words were starting to sink in and you realized he was right - this little science experiment will never end. As you struggled to say something - anything - a couple agents entered the room to escort you back to your hotel room. Part of you was relieved. Maybe with some quiet time, it'll sink in that you're about to become Mrs. Barnes.   0 Comments

08/31/2023 10:05 PM  Arranged marriage A genetic test for antidepressants. That's what got you into this mess. When the paperwork asked if you wanted to use your data to "contribute to future studies," you thought sure, whatever I can do to help. Little did you realize that those studies had absolutely nothing to do with antidepressants. What you also didn't realize is that little box you checked was legally binding. It was a completely boring Wednesday when you received a fancy letter with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo inviting you to participate in "a scientific study that could change the future." Get some bloodwork done, maybe answer a few questionnaires, what more could they need from you? In hindsight, you should've questioned why they'd need you to fly you out just for that. But the fact that the study was from S.H.I.E.L.D. made you giddy - yes, you were a major Captain America fan. In fact, growing up you've done several school projects on Captain America and the Howling Commandos. You always thought his right hand man, James Buchanan Barnes, was the most handsome of the group, and of course your friends gave you plenty of sh*t for having a crush on a guy from the 1940s. So yes, you were very much excited to go. Once your plane landed, you were taken right to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Damn, this study really must be a big deal. You were escorted to a small room with no windows. There was a round table with four chairs, a very fake-looking plant, and some nondescript art hanging on the walls. For being such an impressive building, this room was mediocre at best. You sat in a chair facing the door, anxiously wringing your hands and trying to dispel nervous energy. Right as you let your mind start to wander, a man in a suit walked through the door and greeted you. He held a locked briefcase that he set gently on the table. Sitting across from you, he opened the briefcase and pulled out a folder stuffed with papers. His nonchalant attitude calmed you down. Just some boring paperwork, you thought, nothing crazy. The first packet he pulled out looked familiar - it was the paperwork from the genetic testing you did years ago. You saw your signature at the bottom of the page. Then he pulled out other packets of paper and set a pen in front of you. You were trying to gather what it might be by the questions he was asking, but you were still clueless. Do you have a history of seizures? Are you or could you be pregnant? Do you have asthma? High blood pressure? Those are so generic it could be anything. He started flipping through the pages and pointing to where you needed to sign. Did you ask why? Nope. Did you question it at any moment? Absolutely not. You signed all over those documents and never considered that it wouldn't be in your best interest. Once you were done, you were escorted into an exam room. This is what you were expecting. They did a physical and some lab work and asked even more questions. They told you to get dressed and a car will take you to your hotel room. They'd give me a call tomorrow when the results come in, and we'll go from there. Easy enough, I can spend the rest of the day to myself. The anxiety of what tomorrow could bring was eating you up, but you willed yourself to go to a local restaurant and walk around. This was partially a vacation, after all. The next morning, you got up early. You contemplated sleeping in, putting your phone on loud so you don't miss their call, but your nerves got the best of you. You showered, got dressed, put on some makeup, and headed down to the lobby for complementary breakfast. By the time you were done eating, it was 9 AM. Still no call. Give them time, you thought. You headed back up to your room and decided to read your book. Lame, you're in a new city and reading in a hotel room, but what if they called? You had to be ready. Just as you were really getting into your book, your phone rang. You jumped from the sudden noise in your quiet room. Quickly calming yourself, you answered the phone. The results were in, and a car would be at your hotel in 15 minutes. Finally, the wait was over. Unlike the last time, you were escorted to a room with giant windows overlooking the city. You once again sat across the table to face the door, mentally preparing yourself for whatever came next. Nothing exciting, it's literally going to be more paperwork, you told yourself. Stop hyping yourself up over nothing. Once again, a man in a suit walked through the door. This one seemed just as indifferent as the last one. "The results came back, and we're quite impressed. You're the perfect candidate for our study. In fact, you're the only one in this group of recruits that match our criteria. You've been cleared to move forward," the man said. That's good, right? You inquired about the next steps, which again seemed vague. You were told that you'd get to meet your fellow candidate and get acquainted, and the experiment can begin shortly after. But then he started saying things that made you realize you made a horrible mistake: "potential for a viable pregnancy" and "genetics that could withstand the serum" were the only two you heard, after that you couldn't pay attention. What the f***. What the actual f***. Your spiraling thoughts were interrupted by two men walking through the door. They helped you out of your chair and lead you down the hall to a room that already had people inside. You were too dazed to actually look at who was in the room, you just sat down in the chair that was pulled out for you. At one point you realized someone had asked you a question. "Sorry, what?" "Have you been briefed about your duties in this study?' It was a tight-lipped woman standing at the head of the table. "I think so," was the only response your little brain could spit out. "Perfect, I believe Barnes has some stipulations regarding details of this experiment. Shall we discuss them?" You snapped out of your daze and looked at the people sitting across from you. Holy sh*t. Bucky Barnes was staring right at you. 0 Comments

08/31/2023 10:03 PM  Potential Shield headquarters, noon.  You try to go faster, switching from every exercise effortlessly, acing every test and scoring better than anyone else in your class. Yet he was still not satisfied. You watched him as he shook his head after every movement, after every perfectly executed technique, even when everyone else gave you perfect scores, he only sighed and told you ‘ he expected better from you.’ Brock Rumlow was your boss and trainer, a tall, chiseled, broad-chested, and brunette man who looked absolutely menacing. You had joined the shield academy only a year ago but your progress and your talents were quickly noted so you ended up here today getting trained by him.  But he didn’t seem impressed with you.  Not at all. Not even in the slightest.  He always had some sort of complaint, some kind of observation to make.  Today you were feeling frustrated, utterly and utterly frustrated. When he picks up his files to walk outside the training room, you call after him, grabbing his arm.  It only takes one quick movement from him, to hold you by your throat and push you against the wall. Something about this sudden burst of power had your legs closed together. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t dreamt of him every night and day since you two had first met. “What do you want, kid?”  You struggle a little under his strong grip, gazing deep into his almost dark eyes. You love being in this exact position but you can’t let him know. “I want another chance. You know I aced that stupid test. “ He rolls his eyes and lets you go, turning around with a chuckle. “Hey, you know I’m good, stop ignoring me!” “You’re good. Sickeningly so. But there’s zero original bone in your body. Very predictable and not at all spontaneous or innovative. Unfit for any mission.” He doesn’t even turn to look at you as he presses the elevator button, the doors opening for him to get it.  “I am not predictable!” You protest and walk after him inside the elevator. “You are the most f***ing predictable person I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet.” He announces and turns around staring at the door, pressing his floor button, and setting his bag between his legs.  You are seething, heat rising in all of your body and that’s when you reach out for the stop button. Once you press it, he manhandles you again, grabbing you by your shirt at the back of your neck and pushing your body against the elevator mirror, your bag falling off your shoulder to the ground. “What the f*** do you want?” You realize you let out a moan when he does so, only when you hear him chuckle. “You’re unfit for any mission because simply you are just too horny.” He smirks as he says so, and you can see it against the foggy mirror. “No, I’m not!” “You are going to deny that? What you think that I am stupid and I can’t understand when a little girl has her little p**sy in a twist for me?” Oh, it sounds like music in your ears. You feel both a wave of desire and a wave of embarrassment washing over you. His hand on your back moves further down to your ass cupping it. “You think I don’t know how soaking wet your pretty p**sy must be right now?” His hand feels big and rough against the thin fabric of your training shorts and he begins to rub the palm of his hand against your ass line. “Bet she will be much nicer to me than you are.” “I…” You wanna say something, you wanna protest, you wanna beg him to touch you more but you also don’t want to seem so desperate, so you stay like this, arching your back for him, praying he is going to touch you more. “I don’t really care about your p**sy.” He circles your a**hole with his middle finger, feeling so big against your now responding hole, his ear so firm against yours, hot breath feeling your mouth.  “I want that ass that can’t seem to stop begging for attention. Tell me do you think I don’t know you ordered a suit a size smaller? That you bend and lean down and shove your ass down anyone’s faces?” He chuckles. “So f***ing desperate for attention. Can’t find any pathetic little boy to f*** you?” “No-no…” You whisper, your hands keeping your body from crashing against the mirror. ‘’Pathetic.” He bites your earlobe as he pushes his finger down your a**hole over your fabric. “Wearing the tiniest f***ing thongs so I can look it. Do you think I like desperate girls?” “I…” He rips the fabric apart and then spanks your ass hard.  “No, I f***ing don’t.” His movements suggest otherwise though, he spits on your ass, as it’s perking up for him and so he begins to circle your a**hole with his finger round and round and round until he pushes it inside and starts moving it inside and out. “You ever been f***ed in the ass before?” It’s very obvious what his favorite place to f*** is. “Yes.” You moan out, the pleasure is going to your head already.  “Of course, you have, you little whore.” He pushes the finger deeper inside you scissoring it around. It feels so good, you shut your eyes as he seems to be setting a rhythm, scissoring you around with two of his fingers until is finally time.  You hear the sound of a package being ripped off and you momentarily wonder if he ever thought about f***ing you before. Why was he walking around during a training session with condoms in his pocket?  Your eyes must look confused inside the mirror as he decides to explain but you can’t help but feel a sting of jealousy. Maybe he was planning to f*** someone else. “I like clean things. I am a man of tideness.” He smiles at you through the mirror and then places the condom on his length, spreading the pre-cum down the length of it first. He looks big and lengthy and you know he definitely doesn’t wear underwear either.  He keeps his hands firm on your hips as he pushes his cockhead inside, praising you for your tightness in his own way.  “Damn I never thought a little whore could be so tight. Knowing how you looked at me like that, I thought you’d be f***ing yourself with every dildo you can find.” Looks like he has never been inside your room thankfully. Your little dildo collection was ever-growing.  Then he gets brutal and meaner. He started slower pushing his c*ck inside you, allowing you to adjust, but once he knew you could take him, he grab you by the back of your shirt again and pushed you down on the floor. You struggled to keep your hands still but you know this was his punishment for your alleged non-existent spontaneity.  He is big, and he can overpower you easily. Gripping your waist tightly as he thrusts hard and fast inside your, raising his shirt up with his hand and gripping it with his teeth, obviously wanting to watch his c*ck swallowed by your ass. Your p**sy was dripping on the floor and so far he hasn’t made any movements towards it or even looked at it. You wanted to protest about it but you knew he wanted to punish you for something.  He keeps it like that fast and rough and animalistic, f***ing you like how you deserved to for not being good enough. According to him. And then he pulls out and pushes you against the floor, turning you around to face him. Finally, you think to yourself and reach out to kiss him. He responds to it and it feels passionate and hungry and sticky until he pushes you away from his lips. He grabs your legs, places them on his shoulders, and pushes his cockhead inside your a**hole again, ignoring your p**sy completely.  You try to balance yourself on your hands, and you admire how utterly gorgeous he looks like that, with sweat dripping down his neck and his face getting redder. You were very happy you were the one responsible for that.  You also knew that he kept you like this cause it would be difficult for you as well to touch your p**sy. His thrusts went back to slow motion, as he looked at you, waiting for you to budge or to beg.  Little did he know that you loved getting f***ed anyway, every way.  He pushes your shirt up, revealing your breasts to him finally and he shakes his head when he sees them. “Were you pulling your nipples desperately hoping you’d get to f*** me?” “How!” He cuts you off by slamming his body against yours and then picking up a very fast pace. He was rough, his hands grabbed your waist, as he watches now your breasts jiggling fast up and down with his movement. Your hole felt incredibly tight for him and he knew he was getting close to finishing.  “You wanna cum too?” He bites his bottom lip as he is using your body for his pleasure and you nod desperately as you finally utter the one word he longed to hear.  “Oh, please, please, please, let me cum.”  By the way, he laughs, you know very well you shouldn’t have said that. And with a few more slow strokes, he shoots his seed inside the confinement of the condom, and you can feel it as it makes you feel warmer. Your p**sy is desperately wet and aching, as you are watching him finish and twitch his neck and his body tremble above you. “Pathetic. F***ing pathetic.” He scoffs and pulls his c*ck out, your legs trembling as he pushes them down, he takes the condom off, as you are settling on the floor watching him, and throws it at you. Confused you take it between your hands and stare at the liquid. You can taste it. You don’t need permission.  Brock is breathing heavily as he sits next to you, watching your movements. As you tilt your head back and raise your arm, to let the liquid fall in your mouth, he quickly presses his palm against your p**sy. The cum starts falling inside your mouth as he rubs your clit making you cum with a loud groan of his name.  His cum truly feels like heaven to you. He stays with you in the elevator cuddling you and kissing your forehead until you are ready to face the world again and he even fixes your clothes for you by lending you a second pair of trousers of his from his bag.  When you both exit the elevator half an hour later, he shoots you a ‘do better’ and leaves for the higher-ups' offices. Momentarily you think about who he could possibly be f***ing up there and for the rest of the day, you can feel him everywhere.  The next day he goes back to ignoring you. Expect now you knew how to get his attention. 0 Comments

08/31/2023 09:58 PM  Brock time It was the sound of his growl, the way his hips snapped into yours, how his fingers dug into your skin as you clawed your nails into his back, teeth sinking into his shoulder to muffle your cry. There would be bruises in the morning, you'd walk a little slower, you could deal with that so long as you got this right now. "Fuuuuuuuck," he breathed into your ear, "so tight.." Brock grunted softly. Warmth spread throughout you as you wrapped your legs around him tighter, lifting your hips to meet his, dragging him closer, little whines and whimpers escaping you as he f***ed into you. "Brock!" You sounded broken, you could hear it, knew he did too and it didn't matter. Brock only responded by going faster, driving you to that edge, watching as you dropped your head back into the pillow and screwed your eyes closed, mouth falling open slightly. After, after you screamed his name, after you clung to him fiercely, body shaking and softening under him– after he rode through your orgasm chasing his own, he kept himself propped up on his elbows, still buried inside of you wishing this wasn't a thing that both of you never spoke about. In the morning you would be gone, his bed would be cold and empty, still your scent clung to his sheets and it drove him crazy. When he spotted you later in the day he would jeer and Jack would make a joke, you would scowl and threaten to call HR. But right now? Right now he pressed kisses to your lips, kissing along your neck and soaking in the sound of your soft hum, a thrill working through him as you rolled your hips up. "Again?" You asked, laughter coloring your voice. "Got a problem with that?" He asked, voice rough, god only you could do that to him. You didn't know that he struggled to keep from coming as soon as he pushed into your tight cunt, that as you stumbled into his place his heart skittered slightly as you undressed in front of him. He touched every inch of your soft skin, lips following the trail of his fingertips, he loved the way it made you squirm and gasp. Left little bite marks that could be hidden, grinned like a mad man when you cursed at him for it. There was something in your eyes for a second before it disappeared behind mischief, "f*** it, if you think you're old man heart can take it!" Brock growled, nipping your neck, "show you what this old man can do–" You cried out at the nip, "Brock! No marks!" "Uhh- huh," he rolled his eyes and kissed the mark that was already appearing, grinning as he already had you distracted. 0 Comments

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