⋆˚࿔ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 ₊˚✧

read pt.1 here

uh warning for blood again and again it's not that descriptive lol

｡⋆𖦹.✧˚──

it was late when bucky finally came home. you heard him before you saw him, the soft shuffle of boots by the door, the quiet clink of keys landing in the dish you’d both agreed was “aesthetic” even though neither of you actually cared.

he let out a long, tired breath, the kind that said today had been a lot. maybe it was training. maybe it was meetings. maybe someone said something stupid and he had to keep himself from punching them through a wall. again. you were curled up on the couch, wearing one of his old shirts, frayed at the collar, soft from years of washes, still smelling faintly like him. you’d gotten home an hour or so earlier, dropped your things, kicked off your boots, and started to decompress. or at least, you tried. but you were hungry.

not food hungry. not in the usual sense. not in the way normal people were after a long day. no—this was the kind of hunger that settled behind your ribs and tugged at your spine. it stirred quietly at first, but by the time bucky walked in, it was loud. gnawing. electric. he stepped into the living room, face softening the second he saw you.

“hey, baby,” he said, dropping his bag near the table.

“hi,” you murmured, eyes locked on him.

he paused. tilted his head, a little amused. a little curious.

“you eat?”

you shook your head. “not yet.”

he gave a low, knowing laugh and moved toward the bookshelf. “figured. you’ve got that look in your eye.”

you watched him as he pulled out a dog eared paperback, one you’d seen him reread a dozen times. his vibranium arm caught the lamplight as he settled into the armchair across from you, thumbing open the book.

you didn’t move for a second. just watched him. the curve of his throat, the line of his jaw, the way the muscles in his forearm flexed slightly as he turned the page. the gold and brown light painted across his skin like something holy. you rose without a sound. padded across the room, slow and careful, but there was nothing predatory about it. not really. this wasn’t about taking. this was about wanting. needing. he didn’t flinch when you slid into his lap. didn’t say a word when you nuzzled your nose against his neck, breathing him in.

“rough day?” you asked, voice soft.

“mm,” he hummed, eyes scanning the page. “long. annoying. too many people talking and not enough doing.”

your lips brushed the edge of his jaw.

“you gonna fix that for me?” he asked, teasing now, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“maybe,” you said, letting your lips trail down the column of his throat. “depends if you let me.”

he tilted his head back slightly, exposing more skin, still pretending to read. “i always let you.”

your fangs pressed gently to his pulse point. he didn’t flinch. didn’t tense. just sighed, low and content.

“you smell good,” you murmured.

“you always say that,” he muttered, flipping the page.

“it’s always true.”

you licked a slow stripe across the side of his neck, tasting the salt there, the warmth, the faintest trace of iron beneath his skin. his heart beat steady and strong.

“go ahead,” he whispered.

you didn’t need to be told twice.

your mouth opened over his neck, your fangs sinking in with practiced ease. he inhaled sharply through his nose, his hand tightening on the armrest. the blood hit your tongue warm and rich, heady like dark wine and something deeper underneath. like rain on hot pavement. like warmth in winter.

he kept reading. barely even twitched.

you fed slowly, taking your time, mouth sealed to his skin, one hand on his chest to steady yourself. he was warm, solid beneath you. grounding. he murmured something you couldn’t hear, probably reacting to something in the book. your hunger quieted, replaced by that soft hum of connection, the bond between you thick in the air. this was trust. this was something holy.

when you finally pulled back, lips still tingling, you licked the punctures clean. they were already closing, healing faster than they should. his eyes met yours, still half lidded, still calm.

“better?” he asked.

“mmhm.”

you shifted in his lap, curling against his chest. he closed the book and wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“good,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “hate seeing my girl all hungry.”

you smiled.

you fell asleep like that, tangled up in him, warm and full, the city beyond your windows fading into a hush. let them call him a hero. let the world watch him save it over and over again. you had him first. and he was home with you.

I CANNOT stop thinking about getting pounded against the wall by pyramid head, the only thing keeping you still against it so you don't fall is his big strong hand choking your neck soo tight that you could barely even breathe while your leg is wrapped around his hips and he's pistoling his fat veiny cock so deep inside of you with every hard thrusts, his tip kissing your cervix and exploring your tight walls with every rut of his hips against you, oh and it's big, it's long and so fucking thick it stretches your cunt so wide and open around him. He fucking ruins you and obliterates your poor little hole for anyone else that's gonna have you next so the only thing that your pussy would be useful and good for is his cock and his cock only, that's how much he stretches you and craves your hole, into a perfect match for his girth.

You're moaning and screaming but what's the point? It's not like anyone can hear you, you should’ve never let your curiosity get the best of you because who knows? Maybe no one is ever gonna see you again because he's gonna keep you there with him and fuck you and use your (his) tight hole whenever he fucking wants and feels like it to please himself, your his little plaything now, his little cum dump to fuck and fill with his load over and over again.

suddenly i believe in chiropractic care and violence based love languages

YALL LOOK WHAT I MADE. I RECREATED THE MEME AND I CANT STOP LAUGHING 😭😭

reference below:

them going wheel to wheel and causing damage 😭

the tariffs are making life is strange 80 dollars...

LANDESKOG OH MY GOD I THIKK I JUST BLACKED OUT FROM JOY. IM NAMING MY FUTURE CHILDREN, CATS, EVERYTHING AFTER THIS MAN.

good try. but not even a chicago pope can save connor bedard.

there has never been a game where this image is more applicable

Happy Webbonso Wednesday to all who celebrate!

my brain just shuts down everytime he’s on screen😞

credit: stan_wifey1