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#muse: James Wilson
stepbackattack · 5 months
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johannestevans · 5 months
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i think a really funny house md plotline would be if after cuddy and house are broken up and house starts actually dating wilson, cuddy's mother makes a snippy comment about how house loves dating jews so house decides to convert to judaism just to one-up her
no one would hate this more than james wilson. just he and cuddy just fucking dying, every rabbi in new jersey hates this man so fucking much
wilson loved it when he learned to cook. loves so many hobbies of his. his new obsession being yeshiva is BAD
i just think it would be a really good running plot where house is getting into fucking fist fights w ppl when he's meant to be fucking davening. house in the bath reading rabbinical literature and diagnosing hundreds year dead ppl based on biographical notes
esp bc you know arlene would be like. but aren't you jealous. because he didn't bother wanting to convert for you but he's converting for this shmuck
and cuddy is like. i'm so glad he didn't do this for me and literally all of us is suffering bc he's doing it "for" wilson
you know that there'd be at least one reform rabbi who just. gets really into this awful guy. you can always do with a good doctor who'll take freak cases whether they're poor or what, so he's actually into having this guy on board
but he's just so AWFUL
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barryroyco · 11 months
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the reason i think i love hilson so much is that they aren’t what either of them pictured for themselves. house probably thought he’d end up with stacy. wilson definitely thought he’d have the white picket fence with a wife and little wilsons running around, growing old and dying with them all surrounding him with their love.
but at the end of it all… they had their chance. CHANCES. and every time, they blew it. sure, you could say house sabotaged him, but wilson always let him. and there was a reason for that.
the person you want when you’re dying isn’t the person you want when you’re living. because while they were living, they were fooling themselves into believing it wasn’t always going to be them in the end. and once the end confronted them, they dropped the act.
no, they’re not the perfect vision of a healthy relationship, platonic or otherwise. but they’re on equal footing, always. they crave it in each other, and they deserve each other. it’s messy, manipulative, and maybe a tad sadistic at times. but it’s a deeper, realer, more intense love than you see either of them experience in the show. doesn’t matter if it’s romantic, it’s there, it’s shown, it’s written, and it’s true.
it always had to be house and wilson. and they knew it too.
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mllychen · 4 months
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so wilson is my spotify icon .... tell me why spotify gives me this today
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cashandandrogyny · 1 day
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Gross House and Cuddy. Sir where is your wife??? Where is your boy wonder boy toy oncologist???
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cupcraft · 23 days
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Others: he's so baby (pure)
Me: he's so baby (freak)
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ironman-tonystark · 2 years
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Continuing along my new thing of assigning emojis to superheroes so I don't have to remember names we have:
Sam - 🦅
Wanda - 🧙‍♀️
Thumbelina - 🐜
Freezer Burn - 🦾
Peter - 🕸
Strange - 🎩
Carol - 🌟
and of course Rhodey - 😍♥️💖💝💗💘💕💞❤️💜🖤💜💛💚🥰😘♥️♥️♥️
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bruisedconscience · 2 years
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"Dont mind me, I'm justing.... hiding, from a jackass." (From Wilson to ned :o)+
Ned usually had Olive approach the customers and speak with them, figure out what they wanted (both in life and in regards to the Pie Hole). Today, she was very busy, and since Ned could see the animated sweat droplets (gross) flying from her despite the ceiling fans in full swing, he was doing double-duty while the pies baked.
He didn't need to watch the metaphorical paint dry, anyway.
About to open his mouth to ask for an order (coffee, pie, ice cream (with the agreement that this would also come with pit)), but then...
"Oh." Ned's eyebrows raised and he tried to smile, awkward a sentiment as it was. "Well... I hope your....person you're hiding from is....not a fan of the flaky, flavorful, decadence of pie?"
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grandhotelabyss · 1 year
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Advice/hard truths for writers?
The best piece of practical advice I know is a classic from Hemingway (qtd. here):
The most important thing I’ve learned about writing is never write too much at a time… Never pump yourself dry. Leave a little for the next day. The main thing is to know when to stop. Don’t wait till you’ve written yourself out. When you’re still going good and you come to an interesting place and you know what’s going to happen next, that’s the time to stop. Then leave it alone and don’t think about it; let your subconscious mind do the work.
Also, especially if you're young, you should read more than you write. If you're serious about writing, you'll want to write more than you read when you get old; you need, then, to lay the important books as your foundation early. I like this passage from Samuel R. Delany's "Some Advice for the Intermediate and Advanced Creative Writing Student" (collected in both Shorter Views and About Writing):
You need to read Balzac, Stendhal, Flaubert, and Zola; you need to read Austen, Thackeray, the Brontes, Dickens, George Eliot, and Hardy; you need to read Hawthorne, Melville, James, Woolf, Joyce, and Faulkner; you need to read Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Turgenev, Goncherov, Gogol, Bely, Khlebnikov, and Flaubert; you need to read Stephen Crane, Mark Twain, Edward Dahlberg, John Steinbeck, Jean Rhys, Glenway Wescott, John O'Hara, James Gould Cozzens, Angus Wilson, Patrick White, Alexander Trocchi, Iris Murdoch, Graham Greene, Evelyn Waugh, Anthony Powell, Vladimir Nabokov; you need to read Nella Larsen, Knut Hamsun, Edwin Demby, Saul Bellow, Lawrence Durrell, John Updike, John Barth, Philip Roth, Coleman Dowell, William Gaddis, William Gass, Marguerite Young, Thomas Pynchon, Paul West, Bertha Harris, Melvin Dixon, Daryll Pinckney, Darryl Ponicsan, and John Keene, Jr.; you need to read Thomas M. Disch, Joanna Russ, Richard Powers, Carroll Maso, Edmund White, Jayne Ann Phillips, Robert Gluck, and Julian Barnes—you need to read them and a whole lot more; you need to read them not so that you will know what they have written about, but so that you can begin to absorb some of the more ambitious models for what the novel can be.
Note: I haven't read every single writer on that list; there are even three I've literally never heard of; I can think of others I'd recommend in place of some he's cited; but still, his general point—that you need to read the major and minor classics—is correct.
The best piece of general advice I know, and not only about writing, comes from Dr. Johnson, The Rambler #63:
The traveller that resolutely follows a rough and winding path, will sooner reach the end of his journey, than he that is always changing his direction, and wastes the hours of day-light in looking for smoother ground and shorter passages.
I've known too many young writers over the years who sabotaged themselves by overthinking and therefore never finishing or sharing their projects; this stems, I assume, from a lack of self-trust or, more grandly, trust in the universe (the Muses, God, etc.). But what professors always tell Ph.D. students about dissertations is also true of novels, stories, poems, plays, comic books, screenplays, etc: There are only two kinds of dissertations—finished and unfinished. Relatedly, this is the age of online—an age when 20th-century institutions are collapsing, and 21st-century ones have not yet been invented. Unless you have serious connections in New York or Iowa, publish your work yourself and don't bother with the gatekeepers.
Other than the above, I find most writing advice useless because over-generalized or else stemming from arbitrary culture-specific or field-specific biases, e.g., Orwell's extremely English and extremely journalistic strictures, not necessarily germane to the non-English or non-journalistic writer. "Don't use adverbs," they always say. Why the hell shouldn't I? It's absurd. "Show, don't tell," they insist. Fine for the aforementioned Orwell and Hemingway, but irrelevant to Edith Wharton and Thomas Mann. Freytag's Pyramid? Spare me. Every new book is a leap in the dark. Your project may be singular; you may need to make your own map as your traverse the unexplored territory.
Hard truths? There's one. I know it's a hard truth because I hesitate even to type it. It will insult our faith in egalitarianism and the rewards of earnest labor. And yet, I suspect the hard truth is this: ineffables like inspiration and genius count for a lot. If they didn't, if application were all it took, then everybody would write works of genius all day long. But even the greatest geniuses usually only got the gift of one or two all-time great work. This doesn't have to be a counsel of despair, though: you can always try to place yourself wherever you think lightning is likeliest to strike. That's what I do, anyway. Good luck!
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I got all these issues. Will you be my prescription?
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Bucky Barnes x POC!Reader
Wordcount: 4462
Summary:
A fight about your safety ensues when pictures of the two of you together get leaked by a fellow agent and former one night stand. He's livid that your relationship is exposed to the world and now could be used against him. You could care less who knows about your relationship. You've been together over a year, you knew what dating the former Winter Soldier brought with it. No, you're pissed that some bitch, who doesn't even count as an ex, is trying to ruin the best thing to happen to you.
Warnings:
Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Feels, Some Humor, Protective Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Song Lyrics, Inspired by Music, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, P In V Sex
Notes:
Hello Heathens! This oneshot came out of nowhere one evening when I was listening to music on my phone while working on another fic. A cover of the song "Issues" (originally performed by Julia Michaels) came on and my mind was flooded with this idea and story that I need to flesh out. I have no control of my muse. I just write the stories she tells me to. HAPPY READING! Lyrics for the song Issues by Cameron Bedell will be in bold. ( Here's a link for you to check out the song ) Thoughts in italic.
Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics
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You're trying to get him to understand that the real problem is the agent and not the exposure. Yes you now have to be more careful when you're somewhere without him. But it's not much different than what you were already doing.
"If she leaked us being together what makes you think she wouldn't leak other more sensitive information. Hell, she already could have!" You argue, trying to get him to see the whole picture.
"I don't give a fuck about some jealous drunken hook up who still feels jaded. I never wanted you in danger. That's why it was so important to keep us hidden." He snaps back.
Your emotions finally get the best of you. "I never WANTED to be hidden James! I went along with it because it was something you needed that made you feel secure. One less reason I might leave." 
You shake your head as the tears begin to well in your eyes. "We're over a year in. I thought we'd be out to more than just people with enough clearance to be made aware. Makes me feel like your dirty little secret. I don't want to be that forever."
"Keeping your attachment to me hidden keeps you safe. What about that dont you understand?" He's so lost in his fear that he can't see things clearly.
"No. It leaves me vulnerable and easier to take with no one noticing because they're unaware of my relationship to the deadliest man I know." You calmly state. That seems to get his attention. "How can anyone fear the repercussions of even trying to get close to me like that without knowing who to be afraid of?" 
He just stands there. Tension radiating off his body. 
You let out an exasperated sigh and start walking to your door. "I think you need to go Bucky. I can't do this with you right now. You're so lost in your anger and fear that you're not thinking clearly. And I'm just plain pissed off. I don't want either of us to say something we regret later."
A look of shock crosses his face. "Doll, you can't be serious? We just got exposed. You're not safe."
"No one knows where I live, yet."
"Key word, yet."
"James." You reach for the knob. "Please just give me some time alone. I know where to find you when I'm ready. We both need to think about things from all angles."
He walks up to you and pins you to the door with a soul crushing kiss. Putting all of his fear and love into that one small gesture. He pulls away and allows you to open the door. Just as he crosses the threshold he turns his head your way. "This is far from over, doll. Don't keep me waiting too long."
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You spend the next couple of days working through your thoughts with your guitar. Letting the music take you where you need to be. Mending the frayed edges and soothing the aches.
Through your musical therapy a song develops. Something that you think might help ease things between the two of you. Because, let's face it, you miss your man something fierce.
Every imperfect piece of him. Responding to his texts just to let him know you’re safe and alive, just isn't going to cut it anymore. Someone has to yield first, and it looks like this time around, it’s going to have to be you.
Mind made up on what you are going to do, you decide to give Steve a call.
It rings three times before he picks up. “Rogers.”
“Hey Stevie. How’s he holding up?” You waste no time asking what you so desperately want to know.
“Hey, Dollface.” He sighs. “‘Fraid to say, he’s not doing too great. Seems his already short fuse has shortened significantly. Had to take him off the training roster for the recruits because too many couldn't keep up with his demands or got injured.”
“Shit.” You shake your head even though you know he can't see it. “I was hoping he had calmed down some by now. I’m sorry Steve. I didn’t think he'd still be affected this much.”
“It’s not your fault. You know how overprotective he is in general. Add a threat, from the inside at that, and he goes nuclear.” He excuses.
“Well, I think I may have a solution to our problems.” You admit. “If not at least a band-aid for the time being. I’m going to need you and Sam’s help though. If you're willing of course.”
“I’m all ears. Want me to grab Sam so you don't have to explain it twice?”
“That would be great actually. I’d appreciate not having to spend more energy than I need too.”
“Alright. Hang on a sec.” You hear shuffling, followed by a door opening. Then the tell tale sound of a knock and a muffled voice before a door opens once more. “Hey Sam. Mind if I come in? I’ve got Buck’s best girl on the phone and she has something she wants to go over with us.”
“No problem man. Come on in.” Sam replies.
Once safely behind Sam’s door he places the phone on speaker. “Okay, doll. Tell us your plan.”
“It’s pretty simple really. I’ve used my time alone to reflect and process things the best way I know how. With my guitar.” You lightly chuckle. “Anyway. Long story short, I wrote something for James and I want to surprise him by performing it in front of you all.”
“All of us?” Sam asks.
“Well, just the Avengers. A small little private concert type of thing. Though I'll only be singing the one song halfway through. My friend has a great band that I think you all would love. If you can get Tony to hire them for the night to do a private show for you guys, I can sneak my performance in.”
“So Bucky will know about the private show but not that you're a part of it?” Steve questions for clarification.
“Yup.” You pop the ‘P’ for emphasis. “Think you can sway Tony to make this happen?”
“Seeing as how this should improve Bucky’s temperament and save us doing extra recruit rotations and paperwork. I don't see Tony being a problem. Text us when you know if your friend's band can do it and we’ll take it from there.” You can hear the relief in Steve’s voice over your plan.
“Thank you guys. I owe you big time.” You declare.
“Just help us get the normal grumpy old man back. That’s all we ask.” Sam imparts.
“That’s the plan.”
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Tonight’s the night. You rub your hands anxiously against your thighs as the town car Tony sent for you cruises leisurely down the long Compound driveway. You surpass the front roundabout and make your way around to the back, near the private entrance and garage the Avengers use.
You text your friend Marco, the lead singer of Bow & Dagger, that you’ve arrived and to send someone out to get you. Of course your ex Chase, the bassist, is the one to greet you. He leans his body against the door frame, a smirk plastered across his face, as he scans your body from the bottom up. “Looking good Firefly.”
You roll your eyes at the use of your old nickname. “Still using that outdated moniker Chase?” 
He quirks a brow at you. “You’ll always be my firefly. Maybe even more so now that you’ve gotten away. I’ll forever be chasing your light.”
You can't help but laugh at him. “Does that lyrical prose still work on the female population nowadays?”
“I’ve had no complaints.” He shrugs. “It used to work on you just fine if I remember correctly. Hell you used to toss it right back at me.”
“The blessed naivety of youth. Thank the Goddess that I grew up and my priorities shifted. I’m a more well rounded individual now. Less in search of useless validation.”
“Ouch.” He clutches his chest. “Still got those talons, I see.”
“Never leave home with them.” You wink at him. “You gonna let me in so you can make that paycheck I’m sure is well above your normal fee, or stand there all night?”
“Get in here smartass before Marco lays in to me for wasting time.” He moves aside.
You walk into the pseudo green room and are immediately smothered in a bear hug. “Hiya Stu. I’m happy to see you too.” You say into his barreled chest. “Mind letting up a bit. I kinda need to feel my fingers in order to play.”
He quickly lets go, only to place his hands on your shoulders and stare at you with a dopey smile across his face. “I’m sorry girlie. I’m just so happy to see ya. It’s been too long.”
“It has. I’m sorry ‘bout that.” You wince. “Life kind of got away from me. You know how it goes.”
“I’d say all is forgiven, seeing as you booked us this sweet gig.” Marco butts in, scooping you up in a hug himself. 
“Fuck yeah! I finally get to shoot my shot with the Black Widow.” Stu exclaims.
“It’s the least I could do. You guys have no idea how much you're helping me out here.”  You walk over to the couch and place your travel case down.
“What exactly are we helping you with anyway?” Chase inquires.
“Some Rom-Com grand gesture type shit” You smugly state.
“No shit?” Stu asks.
“I speak only the truth.” 
“You gonna tell us who the unlucky schmuck is?” Chase snipes.
“With that attitude, you’re just going to have to wait and see.” You give him a smile to rival the Cheshire Cat’s. “The look on your face is going to be fucking priceless. I can’t wait.”
Before he can respond with some dickish comment, there’s a knock on the door, followed quickly by Tony and Steve entering the room.
Steve makes his way over to you. “Hey Dollface. You ready to get this show on the road?”
“I’m all set if these knuckleheads are ready to head on out there.” You turn towards the boys. “Have you guys met your benefactor for tonight's little private concert?”
“Negatory little lady.” Stu speaks up first, walking over to Tony. “Howdy Mr. Stark. The name’s Stu. Bow and Dagger’s drummer and loveable goofball. That’s Chase. Bassist and resident fuckboy. And the merose looking fucker over there is Marco our lead guitar and vocals.”
“That suits you.” Tony imparts. “You certainly give off drummer vibes. Lots of energy. Any questions on how this is gonna work?” 
“I wouldn't mind a breakdown.” You pipe up.
"Here's how it's going to go." Steve grabs everyone's attention with his Captain voice. "We're going to gather the team in the common room where Sam and I set up a stage earlier. Tony is going to introduce the band. You'll play 3 songs and announce your taking a 5 min smoke break. That's when Dollface here is going to make her way on stage and do her thing." 
He smiles over at you. "Hopefully if all goes well you guys will finish your set and then you're welcome to stay for dinner and hang out."
"Solid plan golden boy. You come up with that all on your own." You joke.
"Always with the smart quips. I'll remember that. Now let's get moving before the team gets restless and wanders off."
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So far the evening was flowing seamlessly. As Bow & Dagger played the last notes on your third song, your nerves decided to make themselves known. You watched them announce their break and leave the stage. 
Before you could sabotage yourself, you made your way onto the tiny stage and turned to the group of mostly stunned superheroes. “Hey guys. I hope you don’t mind me interrupting. I have some things I need to get off my chest and thought I might provide some intermission entertainment in the process.”
You roam the space for Bucky and lock eyes with his Steel blues, seated on the sofa next to Steve. Taking a deep breath, your fingers begin to strum the opening chords, the team looking on in curiosity over what may come out of your mouth.
Sustaining eye contact you let the lyrics flow out of you as if there is no one else in the room.  
Mmm mm mm I'm jealous I'm overzealous When I'm down I get real down When I'm high, I don't come down I get angry Baby, believe me I could love you just like that And I could leave you just this fast
You take in his demeanor, stock still but engaged nonetheless.  
But you don't Judge me 'Cause if you did, baby I would judge you too No, you don't judge me 'Cause if you did, baby I would judge you too
The only thought in your head is Here goes nothing, as you put your whole heart into the chorus.
'Cause I got issues But you got 'em too So give 'em all to me And I'll give mine to you Bask in the glory Of all our problems 'Cause we got the kind of love It takes to solve 'em Yeah, I got issues And one of them is how bad I need you
You breathe a little easier when you notice him start to soften. Just absorbing the piece of your soul you're sharing with everyone. 
You do shit on purpose You get mad and you break things Feel bad, try to fix things But you're perfect Poorly wired circuit And got hands like an ocean Push you out Pull you back in
A subtle smile crosses his face at the truth in your words. The picture of him that many do not get to see. You really get into it as you run through the bridge and chorus one more time. Now it’s time to bring it home and woo your man.
Ooohhh, Need you OOOOOOH AHHHH I got issues You got 'em too So give 'em all to me And I'll give mine to you Bask in the glory Of all our problems 'Cause we got the kind of love It takes to solve 'em Yeah, I got issues And one of them is how bad I need you Ooh hoo hoo I got issues  One of them is how bad I need yoou Issues And one of them is how bad I need you
You could hear a pin drop in the room as Bucky rises from his seat and makes his way over to the stage. You swallow and try to get your breathing under control as you have no idea what is going to happen. 
Before you know it, he’s standing in front of you, broad chest heaving. He brings his hands up and cups your face before pulling you into an earth shattering kiss.
You forget that you have an audience until the sound of their cheers and clapping reaches your ears. You think you not only hear but see the muted flash of a camera through your closed lids.
You come up for air to see Bucky with the most lovesick expression on his face. “You did all that for me?” 
You nod your head. “Figured it was the best way to get you to listen and understand.”
“Fuck I love you.”
“Love you too James.”
Sam rushes over to the stage. “Man, I live streamed the whole thing. The people are going crazy over ya’ll.”
“You did what?!” You both blurt out.
“I streamed it. The world already knows about you. Might as well milk it. No need to thank me, damn.”
Bucky moves to jump off the stage and rush Sam. You barely catch him in time. “Hey. Don't let him get to you okay. You know how much he loves to rile you up.”
“Sorry, doll. He’s just such a douchebag sometimes. We were having a moment.” He apologizes, running his thumb along your bottom lip.
“It’s fine.” You nip at the flesh as it passes over once more. “What I really want to know is if performing the song in front of everyone was okay? I just wanted you to hear me out and understand my side of things. I didn't want to embarrass you or anything.”
“Doll. Stop rambling.” You shut your mouth. “I loved it. Honestly I liked that they got to see how much you feel for me.”
You beam up at him. “Good.”
“Now I have some displays of affection I need to show you myself. Come on babygirl.” He pulls you off stage and heads towards the hallway that connects with his, Steve and Sam’s wing of the compound.
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You’re pulled inside Bucky’s room, tripping over your sneakers as he hurriedly maneuvers you through his space. “James, slow down. I’m gonna eat shit if you keep it up.”
He stops in front of the bed, turning toward you. “Shut up.” He grabs your waist and tosses you down on to the mattress, climbing on and caging you in with his massive frame. “You’ve used that mouth enough tonight. Now it’s my turn.” 
With no time to catch your breath, he renders you incapable of responding by capturing your lips with his own. Kissing life back into your body, as your tongues dance a tango only you know. 
He takes his time as his hands roam your curves. Sneaking his cool metal digits under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He begins to remove your shirt, placing his flesh hand  underneath your lower back as he slowly lifts your torso to pull your shirt over your head. You raise your arms in aid, grazing your fingertips across the stubble along his jaw when he tosses your shirt aside.
He trails his hands down your flesh until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. With a quick snap of his vibranium fingers your button is undone, your zipper quickly following suit. He starts to slide the denim down, tapping your hip to get you to raise them so that he can remove them entirely.
Leaning back on his haunches, he grabs the back of his shirt with his flesh hand and pulls it off. His lust blown blue eyes focused on you draped over his bed sheets.  “So fucking beautiful.” He runs his hands up your legs, gripping the waistband of your panties when he reaches your hips and takes his time removing them from your body. 
“Take your bra off for me, babygirl.” You lean up on your elbows, reach behind your back and unclasp the garment, letting it fall away from you body. 
Leaning forward, he ghosts kisses along all of your exposed skin. Mapping out a trail of pleasure and gooseflesh. Teasing first one and then the other nipple with his tongue, ending each with a deep suction. 
The slow paced teasing continues, driving your need for him higher. He stops his trek at your mound, hot breath blowing puffs of air on the cooling slick leaking from your folds. “So beautiful and all mine.” He runs a cool metal finger along your drenched lips. He ensnares you in his gaze. “That’s right, isn't it, babygir? This pretty little pussy is mine to do with as I please?”
“Yes. All of this is yours.” You pant out. Delirious for him to do something more than tease.
“Damn right it is.” He runs a stripe from taint to clit with his skillful tongue. Circling your sensitive little bundle nerves, pulling a moan out of your throat. Having had enough of taking his time slowly torturing you he thrusts his tongue inside your aching center. The thick muscle massaging your silken walls, giving them something to finally clamp on to. 
“Mmm. James. Fuck. Your tongue feels so good baby.” Your hands anchor themselves in his hair, just enjoying the ride. But that’s not enough for him. He wants you desperate and begging before he gives in and makes you come apart on his cock.
He pulls his tongue out, swirling it along your folds, seeking out every drop of your essence. Moving the appendage upward to lightly circle figure eight patterns on your clit, bringing you right to the edge. So close to falling over that cliff into utter bliss before he pulls away.
“No! Why’d you stop? I was so close.” You sit up, reaching out for his face, wanting to drag him back to your pulsing center.
He scoots back off the bed. “The first time you come after sending me away and keeping your distance, is going to be while my cock is deep inside you.” He unbuckles his belt, drawing your eyes down to his hands working on divesting himself of the last of his garments.
You're hypnotized by his movements. Mouth watering as you wait for his thickness to spring free from its confines. Time seems to stand still as his pants drop to the floor. “You went commando.” You whisper out, licking your suddenly dry lips.  
“Wonderful coincidence. I wasn't expecting to see you tonight and Steve came pounding on my door right as I got out the shower to tell me I had to come be a part of the festivities. I just threw on the closest clothes.” He shrugged, wrapping his metal fist around his length, giving himself a few pumps as he drank you in with a predatory gaze.
“Lay back down, babygirl.” He husks out. The command sends a fresh wave of slickness to your core, anticipating what’s to come, as you slowly lie back.
“Spread those luscious thighs for me, doll. Present me with my perfect little pussy.” He grunts out as he continues to stroke himself, a bead of precome precariously close to dropping from the tip as he places a knee down on the bed.
You open your legs wide enough to show off your glistening folds. Following his command, but holding back just enough to make him growl and push your thighs open the rest of the way. 
“You really wanna play with me right now, babygirl? After keeping this body away from me for days?” He rubs his cock between your cleft, tip bumping against your engorged and still so sensitive clit.
You squirm and whimper, just wanting him to be inside of you already. That halted orgasm, inching its way back to the surface every time his hot length grazes your bundle of nerves. 
“I’m sorry, James. Please. Need you inside me.” You plead. “It’s been too long since you filled me up.”
“You’re sorry huh?” You quickly nod your head. “Gonna let me wreck this pussy? Ruin you for anyone else? Milk me dry like the cumdrunk little slut that you are?”
“Yes. Yes. Please.” You beg, just wanting him to finally take you, reclaim you as his own.
“As you wish, babygirl.” He slams forward to the hilt, splitting you open with his girth.
He doesn't even give you a moment to get reacquainted with the size of him deep inside you. He just pulls back and thrusts in harder. Setting up a pace that just makes your brain go fuzzy and every nerve-ending sings in pleasure.
“Fuuuck. Look at you doll.” He grunts out. “Already cock drunk and I’ve barely gotten started. Pussy’s gripping me so tight baby. She doesn't want to let me go.”
Your mind can't function enough to produce anything other than moans, whimpers and wails of pleasure. You’re flying a serotonin high you are not ready to come down from yet. The coil in your core tightening as you dance closer and closer to the knife's edge of orgasm. Waiting for the moment when you dive off the edge into ecstasy.
Almost as if sensing that your climax is impending, Bucky picks up the pace, swiveling his hips and grinding his pelvis down on your clit for added stimulation. “Come on, baby. Come for me, pretty girl. I can feel your walls quivering around me. Give in. Fall apart on my cock. Show me how good I make you feel.”
That’s it. That’s all you need to lose yourself and let go completely. Surrendering to the euphoric bliss, screaming out for the whole compound to hear.
A rainbow of stars detonate behind your eyes as you writhe beneath him, back arching off the mattress before you go limp, laying in a state of bonelessness.
“Don’t pass out on me now doll. I’m so close. Little pussy is squeezin’ me so tight.” His pumps become erratic as he chases his own high. “Don’t you want me to fill  you up? Have me leaking out of you for days?”
You just nod and whisper out. “Please. Full.” Not able to formulate more than two words in your current state.
It was all the validation that he needed to hear to stop holding back and release the days worth of his seed into your waiting womb. Painting the walls white with rope after rope of his spend. 
It felt like it went on forever with how much he was pouring into you, until his dick stopped twitching and he collapsed on your chest. Catching his breath and covering your face in sweet kisses as you both come back down to earth.
You stayed locked together, your pussy warming his cock, as you both let your fingertips roam along the other's skin. Allowing yourselves time to just revel in the moment of the new direction your relationship is heading.
"You sure you're okay with the world knowing about us, doll? You’re not afraid that you'll no longer be safe?" He asks into your neck. 
"Like I said before, I feel no less safe than I did before, James.” You tell him with conviction. ”Plus now, I get to rub it in everyone's face that the White Wolf is all mine.” You grin like the cat that got the cream. “You're truly stuck with me now, Bucky."
He chuckles. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He places a soft kiss on your lips.
Just as the kiss deepens and you start the journey towards round two, there’s a knock at the door, followed by Sam’s muffled voice. "You guys done making up yet? Steve wont let us eat until you guys get back out here."
You both can’t help but laugh. "Tell Stevie we'll be right out but we're not staying long. I've got time to make up for."
“TMI man! A simple ‘Be right out’ would have been enough, Buck.” Sam scoffs as we walks back to the common area.
“Come on, doll. Let’s get dressed before Stevie comes looking for us next.”
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If you made it to the end, THANK YOU! If you liked it please feel free to let me know (but it's not required); and if you didn't, that's okay too, I still thank you for even giving it a chance.
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spiderben2011 · 7 months
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Closed RP w/@my-many-muse-rp-blog
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It was yet another busy day for the people of New York. Not because of traffic, but more because of an attack by the Sinister Six. Enemies of Spider-Man, who was unfortunately not in the city due to being in space for another mission. Thankfully, the Avengers are here to help keep his home safe.
Abigail Stark aka Iron Maiden is seen fighting against Electro, who was trying to absorb more energy to overpower the iron hero. Kymera aka Black Panther is seen fighting against Anastasia Kravinoff aka the Hunter as the two are seen battling on the rooftops of the city.
Christopher Strange is seen battling against Rosalie aka Doc Ock as she had gotten her hands on a magic amulet that made her power rival with that of Strange. Lyra is seen going up against Jason Gargan aka Scorpion as she avoids his poison stinger and the venom he's shooting at her.
Alexis Wilson aka Captain America after James passed the title to her is seen flying in the air going after Alexis Toomes aka the Vulture as she avoids her sharp wings cutting her. Leaving Arthur to go up against the Rhino as the two juggernauts go at it, while Arthur is hoping to get things done soon so he can go see a certain lady friend of his who he met some time ago.
@my-many-muse-rp-blog
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johannestevans · 1 year
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wilson fucking house to milk his prostate and keeping house pinned under him as house goes from half-jokingly begging for mercy to hoarsely wailing into the pillow bc wilson is absolutely taking him to pieces is just. so precious to me. house deserves to be tortured and wilson deserves to be the one to torture him
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imitationgame77 · 6 days
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Musings on "(Faked/Temporary/Apparent) Death of A Significant Other" in Fiction
[Mentions contents from Network Effect (The Murderbot Diaries), Sherlock Holmes, BBC Sherlock, and House, M.D. (Season 8), Good Omens. So, potential spoiler]
Losing someone you love is probably the most traumatising experience that can change you forever. In "Life Change Index" by Holmes and Rahe which gives a score (max=100) that indicates how much stress a mojor/minor change in life causes. Since even potentially good change, like starting a new jow, can cause some stress, it includes both positive and negative life changes. But "Death of a Close Friend (37)", "Death of Close Family Member (63)" have high levels of stress, with "Death of Spouse" comes to the top with 100 points.
It is also stressful to experience loss vicariously through books, dramas, and films. Even when they are fictional. When it comes to a temporary loss, however, it is a different matter altogether, I think. I may go as far as to say we actively love it. Pain of loss, anguish, followed by joy of reuniting with the loved one - which we probably do not get to experience (even vicariously) in real life.
The most classic example of "turned out to be actually alive!" is, Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle. Holmes leaves a farewell letter to Watson, with forensic? traces indicating he fell into the Reichenbach Falls with Moriarty. Watson being a Victorian gent, he does not describe how he fell to pieces. But when Holmes dramatically re-emerges 3 years later, Watson promptly faints. Then
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Watson is delighted! He does not seem to mind that Holmes had led him to believe that Holmes was dead for 3 years, without a single note to say otherwise.
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In BBC Sherlock, John Watson living in the 21st century was not so stoic in his response. At Sherlock's "death", John first fell to pieces, requiring him to go to see a therapist where he admits that Sherlock was his best friend. When Sherlock reappears with awkward cheerfulness, John punches him in the face after recovering from the initial shock. And stays very angry for a while, feeling betrayed by having been left to grieve for so long (2 years).
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In House M.D., which is basically a medical drama version of Sherlock Holmes, with his best friend James Wilson, House also fakes his death. At his funeral, everybody tries to say something nice about House, but Wilson, angry with grief, calls him arrogant, accuses him for never caring for his friends. Then, gets a text message from House, "SHUT UP YOU IDIOT". House had to go to jail over petty crime for 6 months, when Wilson had only 5 months to live due to cancer. House sacrificed the rest of his career to spend the rest of Wilson's life together.
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In Good Omens (Netflix version), when Aziraphale got inconveniently disincorporated, Crowley falls to pieces. Giving up on the idea of running away from Armageddon, he tries to drown his sorrow with drinks. When Aziraphale manages to find him there, Crowley immediately notices and gets delighted, even though Aziraphale was still without body and invisible.
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~~~~~
The point I think I am getting to here is that "apparent death of a character, followed by a sort of resurrection" seems to be done in fictional creations when the said temporarily-deceased-one has a significant other that would take us (reader/audience) through anguish, followed by almost painful joy.
Thus, it makes sense to me that in Network Effect, it is Perihelion (aka ART) that would make the protagonist Murderbot go through grief by its apparent death. (Well, it was a death, for a while.) Obviously, MB would be devastated if it lost any of its humans. It cares for the PreservationAux colleagues deeply. But in addition to the fact that it would be a lot harder to resurrect a human (augumented or not) in a story later, it had to be ART, because as the author herself said in her interview, it is probably 'the love of Murderbot's life'.
It is noteworthy to say that MB itself did not give name to its emotional experience, because it probably did not know except that it was a very strong, very negative emotions. Its instant hatred towards those who killed ART and subsequent crippling grief become apparent to the readers through what Amena notices. Its pain is strong and raw, so much that even when MB is simply saying, Ugh, emotions, we feel its grief. And when finally we get to the part with:
All the lights in the control area went dark, then blinked back to life. Simultaneously all the display surfaces around me flickered, went to blank, then flashed reinitialization graphics.
And ART's feed filled the ship. In the pleasant neutral voice that systems use to address humans, it whispered, Reload in progress. Please stand by.
[ ..... ]
Then ART's voice, ART's real voice, filled the feed. It said, Drop the weapon.
Relief and joy we experience is almost heart-skippingly painful. Even though MB's response is more BBC Sherlock's John than the original John Watson, we know how much it must mean to MB. I re-listened/re-read that part at least 10 times.
It is also worth noting that ART also seems to love "pain of loss followed by joy of reunion/resurrection". In Artificial Condition, when a major character died in Worldhoppers, MB had to pause seven minutes while ART sat there in the feed doing the bot equivalent of staring at a wall, pretending that it had to run diagnostics. Then when the character came back to life 4 episodes later, ART was so relieved that they had to watch that episode 3 times before going on!
After long ramblings, my conclusion is, temporaly death of a significant character in fiction is good. More significant the character to the character we can emphasize with, the more painful the loss, and more delightful the reunion. John Watson is the love of Sherlock Holmes's life. Aziraphale is Crowley's. ART is Murderbot's.
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What Day Is It?
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Title: What Day Is It? Fandom: MCU Pairing: Mob!Bucky X Reader Rating: NC-17 (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!) Warnings: Mob!Bucky (yes, he’s a warning in and of himself), explicit sexual content, BDSM, spanking, riding crops, Dark content, impact play, orgasm denial, i think that's it? Words: 2,400 Summary: Bucky appears to have forgotten your birthday. So you go to confront him, but he misunderstands your anger.
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🍦 Waffle Cone: Bucky Barnes 🔪 Chocolate: Mafia 🍓 Forgotten birthday 🍫 Fighting to fucking 🍮 “If you’ve got something to tell me, now’s the time to do it.” 🍪 “Fight me, you big bitch!” 🌰 “Be a good girl and bend over the desk.” 
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All mistakes are mine, but shout out to my beautiful BETA reader @welcome-to-the-sin-zone
Happy Birthday, Birdie!!! @buckysbirdie, as promised, I got this up today! So this story came out MUCH DIFFERENT than what I had intended it to be! I was writing along and suddenly it took a sharp left turn and here's where it landed LMAO So I hope you like it!!! <3 <3 <3 <3
Materlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist
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You were pissed.
Absolutely, inexplicably, unconditionally, pissed. And the bastard responsible? James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, AKA The Winter Soldier, Mob Boss of Brooklyn. 
It was one thing to forget small things, like a last minute dinner plan. But your birthday!?
Bucky had been in meetings all month, which was nothing new. There were times when he would be gone from New York for weeks at a time doing deals and keeping tabs on his empire, but in the 5 years you had known him, he had never let work get between him and your birthday month, much less your birthday. But now… 
You stormed into his office, ignoring Sam and Steve who were trying to grab you and pull you out, telling you to leave Bucky alone, he would make it up to you. You weren’t listening. You were furious and you didn’t care how dangerous James Barnes was, you were going to give him a piece of your mind.
Bucky, for his part, was sitting behind his large oak desk, his tie undone, his hair mused, and his cell phone up to his ear, looking downright ragged. You didn’t care.
“Barnes!” You hollered, storming up to his desk and slamming your hands down like you could intimidate a man like Bucky. “Get off the phone!”
Bucky eyed you up and down, his eye twitched. “Doll.” He drawled, sitting up in his chair a little straighter. “I suggest you go back to your room. I will be there shortly.”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow and advised the person he was speaking to that he would be right back, placing his phone on mute. “No?” He asked as Sam and Steve both reached for your arms to pull you away, but you jerked out of their hold. 
“You have five minutes. If you’ve got something to tell me, now’s the time to do it, Princess.”
Bucky didn’t usually use your nickname when he was angry. But then again, when he did, you knew he was angry. Except, he didn’t get to be angry right then. It was your turn to be pissed.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say!?” You cried, throwing your hands up. “What day is it, James?”
The use of his first name caught his attention and he narrowed his eyes. “Wednesday. And like every Wednesday, I have meetings. Meetings, by the way, that help protect you. So if you have anything else -”
“Fuck your meetings!”
“Are you looking for a fight?” Bucky stood up, his blue eyes never leaving you, threatening your very existence. “I don’t appreciate being -”
“Yeah! I fucking am! Fight me, you big bitch!” You cried, as you reached over and grabbed his phone, throwing it at him. “Come on, fight me!” Sam and Steve exchanged looks, worried for your safety, but afraid to intervene at this point and risk retribution from Bucky. “Y/N…” Steve said slowly, quietly. “Come on, let’s go back -”
“You stay the fuck out of this, Rogers!” You turn to Steve, shoving him hard. “And you, too, Wilson! I’ll get to you when I’m done with this bastard!”
“That’s enough!” Bucky hollered, stepping around his desk and grabbing you by the arm. “Rogers, Wilson. Out!”
The two scurried from the room as fast as they could as you turned back to Bucky, throwing a punch at him the way Natasha had shown you during your self defense practices Bucky had insisted you take with her every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It hit Bucky in the chest, hard enough that he felt it, but not hard enough to make him drop your arm.
“What is wrong with you!?” Bucky yelled, pulling you closer by the arm. “You want to fight!? Or do you want me to punish you!?” He tugged on your arm again, pulling you closer to his desk. “Be a good girl, then, and bend over the desk!” His mental hand pushed between your shoulder blades, forcing you face down onto his desk as he moved to stand behind you, ripping your leggings down the seams to reveal the soft pink panties you threw on just to piss him off more.
“I’ve told you once, I’ll tell you a thousand times, you don’t wear underwear - or pants - in the house!” He pulled the band to your panties back and allowed them to snap your lower back. “Now, you’ve interrupted my meeting, you broke my phone, you yelled at me and called me names in front of my men, you wore panties and pants, and you’re being an absolute brat right now. Usually that would be ten spankings for each rule broken, but that would be 70 swats. Can you take that?” He growled, pulling back just enough to pull the shredded remains of your leggings and your cotton panties off of you and threw them into the fireplace. His mental hand went right back to your shoulder blades, keeping you in place on the desk. 
“Fuck you and your stupid rules!” You grunted as you tried to move under him, trying to get any leverage. “I’m still pissed at you!”
“And you won’t tell me why!” He yelled, pulling his hand back and slapping your ass hard. “That’s one, the next 79 you’re counting!”
“79!? You said 70 total!” You turned your head to glare at him.
“You know the rules, 10 for each rule broken. Are you *trying* to get to 100!? Because you’re now at 90.” He smirked, knowing exactly what this did to you.
You growled, turning your head away from him. “Fuck you and fuck your rules. You don’t own me.”
“100.” He landed another hard slap on your other cheek. “Count or I’ll add 10 more for each one you forget to count.”
You cursed, gripping the edge of the desk as hard as you could. “Two,” you hissed out, hating that you’re already turned on by this. You were supposed to be mad at him!
“That’s my good girl. I know you’re in there somewhere, Princess.”
Before you can respond, he lands three sharp slaps to your rear that has you pushing up onto the desk with each hit.
“Three-four-five!” You counted before you could forget. The most Bucky has ever handed you was 70 at one time. You weren’t sure you would survive 100. 
“Jesus, look at you,” Bucky laughed. “Just five in and you’re dripping. My god, you’re a slut.” he dipped his hand between your legs, running one of his fingers through your folds and scooping up some of your excitement.
You whimper, your walls clenching around nothing. This was going to be torture, but fuck if it didn’t turn you on. 
“This what you wanted, Princess?” He asked, spreading your lips and pushing a finger into you, causing you to gasp and rock your hips back to get some friction. “You just wanted Daddy’s attention? Well, you got it now. You have my full. Attention.” He pulls the finger out and immediately lands the next five smacks on your ass and thighs.
You count, tears already falling down your face. “Daddy -”
“Nuh-uh. Bad girls don’t get to talk. They just count.” The next ten came quickly, one after the other, quick succession in a rhythm only Bucky follows.
You’ve started shifting on your feet, trying hard to press your thighs together to get some relief of the tingling sensation between your legs as he pauses then, staring at your ass. You lick your lips and take the brief pause to close your eyes and stretch your fingers, knowing that it’s only going to get worse. 20 in, and you’re ready to beg forgiveness - not that it would help. Bucky always forgives you. But he never backs off or decreases your punishments.
You’ve just managed to get your legs together and get some relief, a short moan escaping your lips before Bucky is kicking your legs apart and thrusting three of his metal fingers deep into you.
You cry out, clawing at the desk to pull away, despite how good it feels to finally be filled with something. “FUCK! BUCKY!” you cried, pushing back onto his fingers as he brutally thrusts them in and out of you for a few moments before they’re gone again and Bucky’s shirt is shoved into your mouth, tied up with the discarded tie you aren’t sure when he removed.
“I told you! Only good girls get to talk!” He hissed, giving your ass yet another smack. “Now I  have to count. And you know what that means?”
You did. Fuck you knew exactly what that meant, and you started crying. Now not only are you going to get your 100 spankings, you weren’t allowed to cum. And goddamnit, it was your birthday. It wasn’t fair!
“Keep it up, Princess, and you’ll be my personal cumbucket for a month with no release in sight. Go ahead, try me.” He taunted before he grabbed the riding crop from his desk. When did that get there? Had it been there the whole time?
“Don’t think this means you’re getting off easy.”
You wanted to roll your eyes. The riding crop was never ‘getting off easy’. It just meant Bucky wanted to save his palm from stinging too much during longer sessions. It also meant he had even more planned for you.
Fuck me.
The next thirty came swift, and you were positive you weren’t going to be able to sit down for the next week. Bucky would stop every 10-20 strokes to tease you more. He would circle your clit with his metal hand, bringing you so close to pleasure then pulling back and giving you another 10 spanks. Or he would finger you until you were sobbing then pull out and give you another 15.
At 60 he stopped longer, pulling his pants down and shoving his thick cock into you as fast and hard as he could, moaning filth and obscenities in your ear as he fucked you hard and fast, cumming in you before you could get there yourself. He stayed there, deep in you, pulsing, for a good five minutes then.
“That’s it, Princess,” he growled. “Take daddy’s cum. Gonna fucking breed you. Stuff you full of children and keep you pregnant. Fuck - God you’d look amazing with my baby inside you. You want that, Princess? You want Daddy’s baby? I’ll give it to you, you filthy slut.” he bit your shoulder, hard, before pulling out and giving you another 10 hard spanks with the riding crop that had you sobbing harder, your tears leaving a pool beneath your face on the desk that not even Bucky’s shirt and tie could soak up.
“That’s 70, baby. You’ve never done more than this.” He says, like you didn’t already fucking know that. “Just 30 more. You can do it.”
You wanted to scream at him. Hurl insults and yell at him to fuck off, but all you got out was another wimper as the next 5 came suddenly, hitting down your thighs almost to your knees.
If it wasn’t for the desk, you were sure you would have collapsed by now. 25 more seemed impossible. You were aching everywhere, and you thought you were bleeding. You couldn’t be sure. Bucky hadn’t said anything, but you wouldn’t put it past him. 
You almost didn’t feel the next 15, the ache in your ass almost overriding the sensation of more spacks, but the final 10 you definitely felt.
Bucky had shifted, apparently sensing that you were no longer feeling the hits on your ass, and was now swinging underhanded, bringing the crop up to your pussy and clit. Each new smack had you screaming harder, tears streaming down your face like a waterfall. It was torture. Pleasureful torture. 
You sobbed in relief when Bucky said the magic number - “100.”
But it was cut short when he grabbed you by the waist, flipped you over and laid you out on the desk, his head diving between your legs to eat you out like a starving man.
You tried to shove him away, but his metal arm grabbed both of your wrists and held them to your stomach, preventing you from moving or pushing him away.
Your overly sensitive core was attacked by Bucky’s wicked tongue, bringing you to another almost orgasm before he pulled away again. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he reached around and pulled the gag off of you, eyebrows raised.
“Now. Are you going to tell me why you were being such a brat?” He asks nonchalantly.
You sniffled, wiping your own face - tears, snot, and slobber - off with your shirt before shoving him lightly, most of your fight gone.
“You forgot my birthday.” You muttered.
Bucky took a step back, frowning. “What?” he asks, looking over to his date book. “No I didn’t - oh fuck…”
You wiped at your eyes again, nodding and you attempted to sit up. “Yeah. You did. You promised you’d never forget! You swore you’d make me feel special every birthday…”
“Fuck, Princess,” He hurried to his bar and grabbed you a cold bottle of water and hurried back to you, opening it before handing it over. “I’m - Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot.”
Taking the water bottle, you took a small sip before Bucky was moving again, grabbing the baby wipes he kept in his drawer and cleaning you up gently before pulling you into his lap as he sat down in his chair again.
“I’m so sorry,” Bucky murmured, kissing your forehead. “I’ll make it up to you. Where do you wanna go? Anywhere. Anywhere at all. We’ll go for a whole month.”
“The bedroom?” You glance at him. “I would have understood if you had just told me that you were busy and we wouldn’t get to celebrate this year. But you swore to never forget.”
“I know I did. And I’m so sorry, Princess. I’ve just had so much on my plate. It’s no excuse and I’ll still make it up to you. Starting with - your punishment is over. How about we go take a nice hot bath and calm down… and then have some fun all night?”
“I don’t think I can feel my legs.”
Bucky shifted you on his lap and held you close. “I’ll carry you, Princess. I’ll carry you anywhere you want to go.”
Ope.
~*~ Fin ~*~
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luckhissoul · 2 months
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ROLEPLAY HISTORY!
The rules are simple! Post characters you’d like to roleplay as, have roleplayed as, and might bring back. Then tag ten people to do the same (if you can’t think of ten, just write down however many you can and tag that number of people). Please repost, don’t reblog!
CURRENT MUSE(S): (canon muses)
mat cauthon ( the wheel of time )
quinn blackwood ( the vampire chronicles)
michael curry ( the mayfair witches )
adolin kholin ( stormlight archive )
jasnah kholin ( stormlight archive )
syl ( stormlight archive )
vin venture ( mistborn )
ivar the boneless ( vikings )
bellamy blake ( the 100 )
francis de valois ( reign )
cahir ( the witcher saga )
aviendha ( the wheel of time )
min farshaw ( the wheel of time )
paul atredies ( dune )
alia atredies ( dune )
carl grimes ( the walking dead )
aramis ( the three musketeers )
john silver ( black sails )
seth gecko ( from dusk til dawn : the series )
will graham ( hannibal )
rodrigo borgia ( the borgias )
lucrezia borgia ( the borgias )
michael grey ( peaky blinders )
marcel gerard ( the orignals )
anakin skywalker ( star wars )
louis xiv ( versailles )
moiraine damodred ( the wheel of time )
lan mandragoran ( the wheel of time )
and four ocs !
WANT TO WRITE: (maybe i will write them someday, maybe not)
like idk right now? probably none. i considered adding marius from the vampire chronicles but decided against it lol
HAVE WRITTEN:
peter petrelli ( heroes )
jaime lannister ( asoiaf )
theon greyjoy ( asoiaf )
sam "falcon" wilson ( mcu )
raven / mystique ( mcu )
elijah mikaelson ( the the originals )
caroline forbes ( the vampire diaries )
enzo st. john ( the vampire diaries )
elle bishop ( heroes )
arthur petrelli ( heroes )
genevieve ( the orginals )
aurora ( the originals )
matt parkman ( heroes )
kaz brekker ( six of crows )
the darkling ( shadow and bone )
fergus fraser ( outlander )
sarah manning ( orphan black )
james patrick march ( ahs )
tate langdon ( ahs )
jimmy darling ( ahs )
kit walker ( ahs )
ethan chandler ( penny dreadful )
lazlo kreizler ( the alienist )
marcus isaacson ( the alienist )
lucius vorenus ( rome )
dwight enys ( poldark )
nell crain ( the haunting of hill house )
charles xavier ( mcu )
elizabeth of york
gendry ( asoiaf )
dinah madani ( the punisher )
freya mikaelson ( the originals )
carolina villanueva ( high seas )
nicolas sala ( high seas )
WOULD WRITE AGAIN:
not sure who i would ? write again ? sometimes i'm like hey maybe but then i'm like nah i don't want to lol
Tagged by: @stcrforged tagging : @caracarnn - @xhideyourfires - @adversitybloomed - @wstfl - @honorhearted - @godresembled - @bas0rexias - @indigodreames and anyone else?
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cupcraft · 1 month
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In loveeee with watching characters age and get older. Love tracking their smile lines and frown lines and the gray in their hair. Love seeing them get older.
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