i need more pet play like the swallowing his saliva 🤤🤤
mmmmgh now you're talking my language! one shot of pet play coming right up 𖹭
(sorry about the wait) but here it isssssss!!!
bark like you want it
syp: MDNI cw; pet play (cat ears, collaring), mild choking, masochistic acts, shot gunning, scent kink(?), mating press, f!reader x multi characters (all seperate) use of 'kitten'/'kitty'. (all timeskip vers) both sub/dom pov; for all the other feral, horny girlies ᝰ.ᐟ
dom pov:
"there." you chirp brightly, smiling down at the man at your feet. the cat ears you put on him have little bells attached, so every time he tilts his head or turns they twinkle sweetly. not to mention that beautiful shade of red creeping up his neck, ears already bright red, his eyes darting anywhere but on your face. poor thing is so nervous.
"you look so cute like this..." you coo, fingers toying with the fuzzy ears, as the heel of your foot presses into his raging hard-on—he whimpers needily, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow.
"shut up..." he grumbles.
you arch a brow, an cruel smirk pulling at your lips, digging your heel in harder. he winces, but his cock leaks pre-cum, getting off on the rough treatment. sick fuck. you love it, the power you hold over this man is all-consuming. reducing this big, strong man into a broken puddle of sweat nd cum.
"aww, is the baby gonna cum?" you mock, a dangerous gleam in your eyes. "go on then, show me how much you're enjoying this."
your voice alone has the floodgates opening, throwing his head back with a low groan, bells chiming as his seed flies out in spurts; hitting his chest, thighs, your foot, some even got in your hair. he's breathing heavily, panting, as you slowly pull your foot away.
"good boy~" you praise, instantly softening your tone, towing him in for a tender kiss. "let's get you cleaned up."
after a long, steamy bath the two of you spend the rest of the evening cuddling, holding hands and lounging on the couch in the ambient lights of your apartment. an all-encompassing feeling of love fluttering in your chest.
the leather squeezes your throat, a perfect fit, a pretty pink n cream collar for his little kitten. you swallow, drool already pooling into your open mouth; his thumb is between your lips, holding it open like an inspection.
your eyes track the slow raise of his arm, the edge of the shot glass pressed into his soft, luscious bottom lip. tipping the contents inside, but rather than swallowing it he pulls your jaw closer, and spits it into yours. the bitter alcohol hits your tongue, it's slightly warmed from his mouth. a special treat. you gulp it down, your throat struggling against the tight strain of the collar that a hint of the shot dribbles out the side of your lips. the rough pad of his thumb swipes the excess away, licking it up gleefully.
"good kitty."
you hum happily, almost a purr, and with a goofy lopsided smile on your face. the alcohol has a heat bubbling in your stomach—but that's not the only reason. your man is looking extra tasty today, still musky from work, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat. it has your thighs clenching, desperately trying to find relief for the ache of your sopping cunt.
he sees that glimmer in your eyes, acting fast, he manhandles you onto your back with your legs thrown over his shoulders. his weight squishing you into the mattress unforgivingly, the blunt head of his cock teasing at your entrance. you whimper, muscles burning from how deeply his large body is pressing into you—you'd have to be a contortionist to comfortable like this.
but all thoughts fly out the window when he bullies his fat cock into you, mercilessly stretching you, feeling so full, stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey (lol soz). pumping into you with fast, rough thrusts that have you going cross-eyed from the pleasure. he's hitting all the right angles, dick catching on your g-spot with every drag of his hips.
"you feel how deep i am?" he growls, hand pushing into your stomach, the outline of his dick visible, like he's living in your intestines.
one look at your face and it's clear he's fucked you dumb, mouth open wide, mewling like a cat in heat. he pounds into you, chasing his release while using your body as a fleshlight—he doesn't last long and neither do you, but you break first, pussy fluttering and milking him of every drop. his lips kiss at your temple, brushing the hair back, slowly lowering your legs back down and holding you close.
you guys fall asleep like that; his fingers carding through your hair, curled into each other's arms, warm and sweaty with his seed still dripping out of your abused cunt. loved and sated.
Hive receives an invitation from a past they would rather forget and Bucky finds that there may be more than self-preservation in his need to find out what his new roommate is up to.
Read this chapter on AO3 here.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 5
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Nonbinary OC
Rating: T
CW: Canon-typical violence, mind control, tampering with someone’s drink, drugging, attempted abduction, collaring, violent death, blood loss, misgendering
Prompts Filled:
@fandom-free-bingo Flight Edition : Betrayal
@fandom-free-bingo Wild Edition : A crack in the mirror
@fandom-free-bingo World Book Night Edition : Drugged
@fandom-free-bingo Maritime May Edition : Mind control
@febuwhump 2024 : Day 10 – Killing in self-defence
@fluffbruary 2024 : Day 9 – Urgency
@lgbtqbingo : Bar fight
@multifandom-flash Round 2 : The men in black
@multifandom-flash Character (Bucky Barnes) : Lost companion
@whumpuary 2024 : Day 3 – Used as bait
@fandombingo Reverse 1999 : Manipulated into a trap
@fandombingo Reverse 1999 : Tracking someone down to save them
@sweetspicybingo Hurt/Comfort Edition : Blood loss
@badthingshappenbingo : No good deed goes unpunished
@badthingshappenbingo : Tampering with food/drink
Dividers by @unfortunate-beetle-and-friends
“Each betrayal begins with trust.”
Martin Luther
Hive tidied without much direction for an hour before the stillness of the place started to worm into their brain. The walls got closer. They found themself touching their scarred surfaces as though that would stop their advance. Their nails were packed with cheesy plaster and flakes of paper; texture after texture demanded to be smoothed lest it keep grating on their soul like sandpaper. Eventually their nailbeds were smarting. Rather than pull apart the whole building scrap by scrap, they went out. Possible destinations were both far too many and hardly any at all. Anything that needed money was out. Anywhere they might be too readily noticed was a problem. They wound up in the park. There were plenty of people around and, while other people meant more witnesses, they also meant camouflage. They took a book from their small stash and passed easily enough for a student with some time to kill. From time to time, their eyes lifted from the book as if trying to tune in to distant sounds or catch some too-quiet words. No one paid them any attention.
Oh god, help… please, please help me…
Their head snapped up.
Please, I don’t want to… I can’t.
Hive’s face whipped one way then the other, their dark hair lashing their cheeks. Every face around them looked as oblivious as could be. Fuck. They knew that voice.
They dodged down crowded streets, ducking along alleys, taking the quickest route they knew in a direction they’d promised themself never to go. The voice resurged, not so faint, but irregular, as though a mind could be out of breath.
Where… am I? So hungry…
Hive winced, recalling a very similar internal monologue. Where was he? How could he possibly be in range? Even for this broken up attempt to communicate. Their mind strained. It amazed them that other people couldn’t hear it. Apparently this was a private call. Fuck. Not good. Not good at all.
They got three blocks too far north before they stopped and ducked into a doorway, breathing too hard, head spinning, arms tight across their chest. Images of the empty apartment flooded their brain, images of Bucky standing in the hall and wondering, maybe even searching. They stood shivering and hugging themself.
They wished they could ignore the voice, go back, get some sleep, rest their aching bones…
Help me… Hive, please…
They whimpered and squeezed themselves tighter, pinching their arms through their hoodie. They had to go. The whimper became an angry whine. They jabbed a foot into the wall and cried out, tears filling their eyes. Then they turned, limping, back towards the apartment.
They didn’t stay long, just long enough to pull out their notebook and scribble their apologies, and to take advantage of the quiet.
Ady?
Hive! I need help…
You’re out? How?
Complicated. Can we – I need to see someone. A – a friendly face. Meet me?
A friendly face… Hive wasn’t sure if they wanted to laugh or throw up.
Where?
They figured something out. A meeting place, crowded enough to allow them anonymity and somewhere people tended not to give a shit who was around anyway. Hive only knew it because it was about the only place they’d observed Bucky attending other than work and the grocery store. If there was anywhere a metal hand around a tumbler could go unnoticed through sheer lack of interest, it was that shithole. And if there was anywhere no one would have a hope of recalling the faces of two fugitives tomorrow morning…
It took them a while to get together some supplies, not having much stashed and lacking the cash to do things the easy, legal way. The limp added an unnecessary challenge to the game of going unnoticed. A couple of security guards had to develop sudden nosebleeds but eventually they were standing on the street above the basement bar, chewing their lip as they stared down the iron stairs. Ady… Their skin crawled. They could feel their control, their entire presence, slipping. Just like it had before. When the only way to resist was to play a sick game of musical chairs in their own body, everyone trying not to be the one in control when the music stopped...
Steady… Invisible hands held them and pushed them gently but firmly back into themself. We don’t have to do this, but if we’re going to then we should get it over with. Standing out here isn’t safe.
He needs our help. He isn’t going to hurt us.
And if he only just got out, he may have information we can use.
A deep breath of the foetid gutter-tinged air did more to upset their stomach than soothe their nerves but it did help to drive them off the street. He was sitting at a table in the corner. His cheeks were more hollow than ever. He was staring at a drink in front of him as though he’d forgotten how to transfer the liquid to his mouth. Thinking about it, it might have been years since the poor bastard was last allowed to pick up his own glass, or have a glass at all. A mutant who could do what he could certainly couldn’t be allowed any more freedom than absolutely necessary. That leash was kept tight. How he had ever slipped it was a mystery. They slid into the opposite chair.
“You came.” The fact sounded like it caused him pain.
“I, yeah, ‘course I did. You needed help.” They toed the duffel bag towards him under the table, regretting it when their toes ached dark and hot, nausea surging in their gut. They were pretty sure their foot would be vivid purple when they got home and took that sock off. “This is for you. I can find you somewhere to stay. You'll need to, you know, keep your head down for a little while…” For a moment they pictured Bucky’s expression should they show up on the doorstep with another stray in tow. No, wouldn’t work. But their old hideout was probably secure enough for a day or two while they figured out how to get him a long, long way away. They weren’t sure exactly how far the enemy’s reach extended but it was a fair bet that nowhere inside the US would be safe enough. Maybe Bucky knew more about where someone like Ady could go unnoticed with some basic precautions. Somewhere remote enough that his nightmares would trouble no one but the wildlife. “Does it work on animals?” Hive winced even as the words left their mouth. They hadn’t intended to ask. It could at the very least have waited. What a time for their vocal chords to detach from their brain.
Ady’s head dipped, hiding his face deeper in the shadows of his hood. He’d never really made his peace with the shaved head, they knew. Endless exploratory surgeries were the lot of captive mutants but when your abilities were so very brain-centred… well, his skull had been drilled into so many times, it was amazing there was enough left to hold his brain in.
“No, ‘it’ doesn’t. They can’t hear me, or if they can then they don’t understand. And I can’t make – it doesn’t affect them.” They saw him shiver inside his heavy coat.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have – you know what I’m like.”
“What you’re all like…” he curled a little tighter, peeking up at them out of the dark, more fearful than angry. “You seem like just… you. How are the rest of them do-”
“Don’t. Don’t talk about them.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I never wanted to hurt any of you.”
“Don’t, Ady.”
“Lex – have you – has he -”
“Fucking stop. Christ, learn when to fucking stop.”
He flinched as though they’d struck him, and their stomach clenched as though the blow had rebounded. Their skin felt icy cold but the cold was radiating from somewhere much deeper. They needed to get out from under Ady’s pale, watery gaze. It was deceptive, that look, and they knew it as well as anyone. It was so lost, so full of need for care, connection, and it crept in, touching what you wanted no one to know was there. They shoved away from the table so hard their chair rocked. Ady looked up in panic and Hive allowed him a muttered “bathroom” to quiet his alarm. But all they got to soothe their own distress was dingy tile and a cracked mirror under a flickering, stained light bulb. They needed a deep breath but that was a bad idea in here. They tried taking in a series of tiny gasps until they had a lungful to exhale slowly.
Lex… What fucking right did he have? How dare he? They leant over the chipped sink, close to retching, gripping the edge until they recognised the blood running from under their fingernails. Fuck. When had they last lost control like that? Oh, of fucking course. Ady. Poor Lex had always turned the lash inwards when he couldn’t hold out any longer. They stared at the blood – the only wholesome colour in the hopeless little room. It was lucky that, however their power worked, it left no open wounds; this place was a paradise for every kind of crap you didn’t want in your bloodstream. They stopped the bleeding and – wound or no wound – scrubbed their hands under the hottest water they could coax from the rusty tap. Then they stared at their reflection a little longer, willing the hectic blotches out of their cheeks, face divided into misaligned halves by the long scar in the glass.
Ady… Not what their custodians had called him, of course. He’d long acquired the nickname "Leash” when Hive was brought in.
I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have… I only wanted – I wanted you to say he’d come back. That he wasn’t… and I hadn’t… I never wanted to kill anyone. I promise. Hive? Are… are you coming back?
Now wasn’t that the question. The supplies they’d collected for him were still under the table. If they walked right out, he could take them and go and they didn’t know where he’d end up or how long he’d last but they would have done something for him, more than anyone had done for them when they first got out. They could walk out guilt-free. And who would have little enough heart to blame them for steering clear of someone who’d done the things Ady had?
We would.
Things he was forced to do…
The voices didn’t come from Ady, or anywhere else outside their own head. It made them that much harder to shut out and their owners knew it.
It isn’t truer for Bucky than it is for Ady just because Ady hurt us.
They never took that fucking collar off him. What could he have done that he didn’t try?
“That he said he tried…” Hive muttered, unable to meet their own eyes in the mirror. They needn’t speak aloud to be heard but it felt better to hear their own words on the outside.
Like we did?
“We’re different.”
How do you figure that out?
“We are killers.”
You are, you mean.
“Fine, I am.”
And if you don’t take us back out there, I will. He’s no guiltier than we are. He needs help.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Hive glowered down at their shoes then rammed the bolt back. The glare melted away as soon as they saw the helpless fear on Ady’s face, even shrouded deep in that coat. Just looking at it made the sweat run faster inside Hive’s hoodie, already too many layers for comfort in the bar’s close atmosphere.
They slid back into their seat. A drink had appeared in front of them.
“Got you a drink. To say sorry. And thank you, for coming when I called. I’d have understood if you’d ignored me.”
They eyed the glass. “You have money?”
“A little.” His eyes shifted away, gluing his gaze to the corner of the table. Hive heard what he didn’t say.
They lowered their voice. “Didn’t pay for it, huh?”
He gave his head a tiny shake. They could see his hands were twisting in his lap. Part of them was glad he felt guilt or anxiety or both. An uncharitable part they tried to silence, but not one they could blame on anyone else.
“You need to be careful. You know it leaves traces sometimes, and this place has a lot of potential witnesses. It’d be really easy to wind up back home if the wrong person sees.”
His hands tugged at his sleeves. He thought they were telling him off. And in their world that meant pain was sure to follow. They swallowed a mouthful of sharp memories and lifted their glass.
“It’s okay. You aren’t in trouble. I just need you to be careful, okay? I don’t want either of us going back there.”
He made a strange jerky movement towards them as they sipped; they guessed he’d wanted to reach for their hand. Seemed like he’d decided against it as he flinched back again, though Hive hadn’t even reacted. Did he – they thought they might have heard him whimper. God, he was going to be hard work. They took a breath, and a longer drink. The faint burn in their throat wasn’t especially pleasant but the room was so hot. It was starting to spin. Too many voices. Too many sounds and textures and moving bodies. When had the lights become so bright? Their stomach churned. They tried to grip the glass again only to find their fingers numb and clumsy. Ady was rocking, the movement nauseating to focus on.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m
“Ady…” Their mouth felt like it was full of cloth. “What did you do?”
It wasn’t Bucky who left the building and began to scour the streets for a trace of Hive's direction. The agency steering his body might have owed him a great deal but they were not the same. This individual stalked his target from block to block with predatory focus as much as he covered the ground with a soldier’s discipline, quartering his territory systematically. As his hunt drew out longer and longer frustration began to infect him. Sickening him. Turning his determination into anger. His pace quickened into a wolfish lope, but he was becoming inescapably aware that his search was directionless. Hive could be anywhere. Any building. Any subway. They could be on a Greyhound headed right across the country. What possible hope did he have of finding them? His pace ground to a halt. Strength flooded out of him. The impulse to find them kept up its powerful beat in his chest but it was futile. He breathed hard. Air felt thick. Heavy and poisonous. Foul in his mouth. Nowhere to go. No forward path. Where were they?
When the hand fell on their shoulder, it felt like a hundred kilo weight. They slumped underneath it. A whisper of protest was the most they could utter as their hood was dragged down and light flooded their face. Someone was speaking, low and even, over their head. Their ears were ringing. They were pulled from their seat and steered by their elbows back towards the toilet, past the rotting bathroom door and down a gloomy passageway. Whatever Ady had given them turned every sense up to one hundred. No useful input, nothing they could trust to get their bearings, only an assault of sound and light and smell.
Uneven, mouldering carpet caught their toes and they went sprawling, the pain in their foot amplified unbearably. More pain exploded from their knees. The impact travelled the length of their spine in an instant. The strong, single sensation broke part way through the lethal fog in their brain, and at last they could fight. They launched themself up from the floor and fresh agony burst in their skull when it collided with a chin. Both Hive and their escort toppled, crying out and clutching their heads. Commands were yelled. Ady whimpered. Movement. Behind them. Chairs scraping.
There was a moment, just one, in which the swimming weight resettling on their brain lightened a little, and Hive lashed out with all their strength. Blood poured down their face and chest from their suddenly gushing nose. Someone else was yelling in horror and a heavy body crashed into them, slamming them into the wall. Something wrenched in their shoulder and they fell sobbing back to the floor, the falling weight still on top of them. They lay with their streaming nose in the disgusting carpet and an immovable weight crushing their lungs. At first the weight thrashed wildly, grinding Hive’s torso into the floor. Their lungs caught fire. Their chest was burned. The struggles became weaker, and finally there was only the suffocating mass on top of them. Someone dragged it off and hauled Hive to their knees. How many were there? Bloody hands held them in place. There was a commotion, a yell, behind them.
“Hold her. I’ve had about enough of this shit. Just get the fucking collar on her, will you? Or do you want to die too? And you, get him out of here.”
Ady whimpered again and Hive felt a new familiar pressure on their mind. They mentally squirmed to escape the snare but they were out of practice. They couldn’t break free.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry I’m sorry…
They stilled, waiting motionless while a heavy ring of metal was fastened shut round their throat. They couldn’t fight. Couldn’t move. It was too sudden. Their mind moved like it was setting in cement. The metal contacts were as ice cold as they remembered against the sides of their neck.
Can… anyone…? We need to…
No reply. They ran out of strength to plead. Air felt like acid as it half-filled their aching lungs.
Someone help me… please…
“For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” - Nelson Mandela
Thank you, everyone who has stuck with Hive and Bucky this far. Sorry the updates are painfully slow. If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure that it hurts me more than it hurts most of you. @voiceoffenrisulfr might be the exception to that. There are another 2 chapters ready to post. One of them is already up on AO3, if you're impatient.
From Where the Vampires and Werewolves Don't Sink Their Teeth
This is one of the fics in my Being Human AU series where Rupert comes looking for Keeley to get revenge on her and Rebecca for tarnishing his name. He's unable to get to Keeley so manages to kidnap Jamie instead.
It is for Whumptober Day 27 - Muzzled ... which gives you a warning about how dark it gets so I'm gonna put it under the cut
“I would have thought you would have taught your little mutt to heel by now Miss Jones,” Rupert chuckled. Keeley couldn’t move, every time she even thought of stepping closer Rupert’s hand in Jamie’s hair tightened. His head was dragged upwards and back exposing the thick metal collar and the shifting red raw skin peeking out from underneath. “So poorly trained. Don’t worry, I’ve got my best people on it,” he added with a fiendish smile and drumming his fingers against the thick leather muzzle wrapped around Jamie’s mouth and jaw. Jamie’s eyes were fixed on Rupert, every part of him was bristling with fury and fire.
I would like to read the diluc elaboration personally...🙏
i’ve got you ❤️❤️ sorry for the wait this was sitting in my drafts!
cw: issues with control, probably not the healthiest way to get into d/s dynamics, lifestyle dom, possessive behavior, mention of collaring. slight yandere if you tilt your head and squint.
i think diluc has problems with control. he likes everything to be in his hands, on his shoulders; perhaps not to burden anyone. or perhaps because he doesn’t trust anyone to do it right. to do it how he would.
it manifests in all sorts of prickly ways. it causes him anxiety, to not have control, to watch it unspool from his fingers. it isn’t fair, maybe, for him to not allow anyone the chance of trying, but to do it himself. it’s a bit of an insult—to think they’re incapable.
it causes problems with the knights, with kaeya, with the city, with you.
at first it’s a little rocky, your relationship with him. there’s a lot of push and pull, both of you sinking your teeth down into the other and trying to wrestle them still. he’s a little brash, you’re quite stubborn, he thinks he knows what’s best for you—
perhaps because he just. loves you. more than he can say. and he wants you safe and healthy and cared for.
maybe you’re a troublemaker, a little rough on yourself. an expert in self sabotage. undomesticated. wild little thing.
and in another argument, where he’s berating you about being reckless, about not taking care of yourself, it just sort of…clicks for you.
he’s not angry, he’s scared.
keenly, you become aware of his desperate need for control. and you start to give it to him a little more. small things at first; what you eat for breakfast, which dress to wear for the day, how he wants you. or needs you, maybe.
it takes some coaxing, you think.
but you realize one night, when he admits, almost raggedly, like it’s eaten him up inside, that he half wants to possess you;
maybe it was not just you who was coaxing.
suddenly, you seek his council and his guidance and his care. suddenly you want to know what dress he wants you in, you want to make him proud, you want to—
follow his rules, you realize.
they are good for you. getting enough sleep. eating well. expressing yourself—your wants and needs and anxieties and feelings. being responsible. not dashing into danger.
he settles and calms, when you give up the control to him. happily, he takes it. content to know you are safe and healthy and well taken care of.
and when he feels out of control (with the knights, with the city, with kaeya), he knows he has you, within it. you to return to. you to soothe him.
you to call willingly into his control, you who craves it now, whose never been happier. healthier.
he’s patient, too. so tender about it. loves spoiling you for being good—for listening to him. punishments are fair and only used when he believes absolutely necessary; he’s not much of a sadist. he doesn’t like hurting you. he doesn’t like when you’re mad or resentful over a punishment, hates to see you pout.
(but he does love when you cling to him and cry afterwards—)
and when he introduces a collar to you, it’s subtle, tasteful. beautiful. it could almost just be a necklace.
you know better, though. and it feels a little inevitable, like perhaps this was always on his mind.
(you’d be horrified astonished if you knew how long ago he’d picked it out for you—)
you’re shy about it at first and he doesn’t push it. slips it on you when you’ll allow him, takes it off when you’re finished. how often you have it on becomes more frequent, longer, you begin to crave the weight on your neck, your chest.
and then one day he goes to remove it but you stop him. and there’s so much heat in your face when you ask, but you have to ask, if diluc has taught you anything it’s so say what you want—
“can i keep it on? please?”
oh, it’s what he’s always wanted.
“of course,” he soothes, kissing your cheeks, your chin, your mouth. “of course.” he hushes.
and you can’t help but feel like it was what he was coaxing you to all along.
