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━ ʙ ᴜ ᴛ ɪ ᴋ ɴ ᴇ ᴡ ʜ ɪ ᴍ ━ uoıssıɯ ʎɯ əɹˌnoʎ
✪ ━ Independent James “Bucky” Barnes / Winter Soldier RP ✪ ━ MCU/616 [ but defaults to MCU ] ✪ ━ Semi-selective ✪ ━ Mun 18+ ✪ ━ NSFW content ✪ ━ All forms of thread welcome ✪ ━ OC friendly
ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɢᴜɪᴅᴇʟɪɴᴇs ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ
If you must leave, leave as though fire burns under your feet.
If you must speak, speak every word as though it were unique.
If you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life’s best part.
I know I've been kind of inactive as of late, am v preoccupied drowning in muse for my new acc
so if you're interested in marvel or just fancy writing with me as a different character feel free to pop along and drop me a message~
I'll still be hanging around here, but just less frequently bc I don't want to give up writing as Mitchell but I feel like it's getting harder for me to get in the 'right' headspace to write him, and spending too much time fretting over it is just making it worse.
✔ ━ o p e n
With concern evident in her expression, she moved her hand to rest upon Mitchell’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.” There was nothing in her medicine class at university which had covered ‘black slime and vampires’, but she had an idea as to the cause…even if she wasn’t certain what exactly was happening.
"I’m going to take a guess and say my magic didn’t agree with you," she murmured, still kneeling down beside him on the floor. "I’m really sorry, I didn’t know anything like this would happen."
"I just thought I was helping."
❝S’okay… ❞ The vampire managed to grit out, doubling over again and hacking violently as he tried to clear the slime from his throat.
❝M’not gonna hold a grudge.❞ Mitchell murmured, wiping shaking hands over his lips in an attempt to chase any trace of black from his mouth.
❝But jus’ do me a favour and never give me y’blood again… ❞
✘ ━ c l o s e d
––– –– – »♛« – –– –––
«Well, first and foremost, do relax–––the tension oozing out of you is making me v e r y uncomfortable.»
Raising one brow almost artistically, Illeana moved to rise from the plastic chair she had formerly occupied and let out a gentle sigh at he sight of her opponent. Mitchell was definitely an attractive man; fitting right into her very own dating rules and continuing to give off the kind of rough, scruffy type of vibe that most women would all to their knees for. However, if there was one thing Illeana had learned from observing him all these weeks, it was that his predator-like attitude really seemed to work as a safety tool for him to hide whatever it was that he tried to keep to himself.
Well, something other than the fact that he and Count Dracula would have a lot in common, anyway.
«Listen, sweet pea, I’m not here to try and pull your fangs out or stab you with a wooden stake. So chill the fuck out.»
❝Well, t’anks t’your parting words t’last time we met, I haven’t exactly been dying t’see you again.❞ The vampire snapped, wanting to turn on his heel and storm away, but unwilling to face his back on her.
He didn’t believe a word about her not wanting to stake him.
❝If y’don’t want t’turn me int’a ash, t’en why are you here?❞ Mitchell asked again, clenching his jaw in an attempt to force his fangs to remain retracted.
The half-dried blood still clinging to his scrubs was wreaking havoc with his self-control, the cloying scent drawing his attention away from the woman every few seconds and leaving the vampire’s hands shaking and feeling as though a thousand tiny bugs were crawling under his skin.
Write 10 things about yourself and pass onto 10 of your followers.
I was tagged by yxungest
I am trying to teach myself Russian
If you mention the words 'Bucky' or 'Barnes' around me I will melt in a puddle of heartache and screaming
I have read 'Catcher in the Rye' so many times the pages are falling out of my copy
I have a p big tattoo of four pink/red roses on my outer left thigh
My fave poem is 'Annabel Lee' by Edgar Allan Poe
My fave piercing is my anti-tragus even tho it keeps getting sore and gross
I am amassing a collection of Tolkien lego figurines
Don't talk about Captain America to me because I will spend the rest of our acquaintance going on about how great Steve Rogers is and how much I love Peggy Carter
Life goals = Peggy Carter
Am currently reading 'How To Be a Woman' by Caitlin Moran and so spend p much all my time either in hysterics/nodding aggressively srsly if you haven't read it yet you should it's fab
Tagging: iamnotthethief apurekindness gxldenskyfall teamxker laueallihi
The Hostel
Elliot looked up as Mitchell spoke again, her eyes darting from his to the blood on his jaw, not that he could tell specifically due to her lack of an actual pupil. She offered him only a small nod unsure of how to go about the process of feeding.
Restricted by her tentativeness fighting with her need to drink made her hesitate just above the skin of the mans’ neck. It wasn’t enough to stop her though. From the years she had been in the hostel she had come to know all the veins and arteries, although she wasn’t confident if that was the area to bite.
She did it anyway.
Nipping down right into the old mans’ jugular as she leaned over further, his blood spurting. Most made it into her mouth but some snuck past her upper lip, splattering where ever it landed. She moved, throwing one leg over his body to have easier access to drink without straining. He screamed muffledly until it turned to silence, his mouth gaping like a fish.
Elliot drank, so thirsty still that it wasn’t enough. She felt she needed all of his blood and she needed it now. Even when the man tried feebly to throw a punch at Mitchell with one hand and yanked at her hair with the other, she hardly noticed. It was just her and the red liquid that was spilling clumsily onto the ground.
Mitchell watched with equal parts pride and gut-wrenching arousal as Elliot drained the man dry.
His fangs had extended fully the moment her own had sunk into the flesh of his neck, and his eyes flooded completely black (testament to his own nature) as he curled a gentle hand into her hair; holding her head in place and watching avidly as she lapped up the rich, crimson droplets with her teeth and tongue.
He caught the man’s wrist; aborting his weak strike and forcing the limb back with a sickening ‘c r u n c h’ , the vampire’s sadistic streak rising to the surface as his lips twisted into a satisfied grin at the sound.
"Come on," Teska walked from the glass cell, urging Mitchell forward with a wave of her wrist. Very few people were safe around him, but she’d made sure to keep the halls clear of anyone he might be tempted to harm.
”We’ve made a few arrangements for you, Mitchell.” She explained. ”How’d you like to get your teeth into a whole District? We can let you out, on a few conditions. Wouldn’t want to keep you in that cell.”
❝What conditions?❞ The vampire asked, all questions gone at the promise of a tidal wade of blood.
Enough to glut him and leave him sated for weeks.
Already, his fangs were digging into the plush flesh of his lower lip, the skin straining slightly under the pressure of the sharp points as the corners quirked up into a hungry grin.
He knew he’d agree to anything if it meant getting to sink his teeth into hundreds upon hundreds of traitors.
If his years in the cell had taught him anything, it was that their lives meant nothing in the face of his hunger; they were expendable.
"Yeah, well I doubt George has to beg like a little bitch to have his cock sucked. Sorta like how you gotta beg before I let you eat my cunt, huh?” Her tone lacked it’s usual harsh edge, the vodka diluting her temper.
Still, Ginger reached over to her backpack, which had been rather carelessly thrown to the side, and threw it at Mitchell. “Smoke us up.”
❝Only because you enjoy it so much.❞ Mitchell muttered, his grin slipping back into a scowl as he rummaged through Ginger’s bag for the half-empty baggy and a roll of rizzler paper.
❝Got anything we can use as a roach?❞ He asked, offhand as he traced his free hand up the inseam of her leg, his expression morphing into a slight smile at the feel of her skin – warm, even through the denim of her jeans – beneath his fingertips.
He never scared her much anymore, his anger, the quivers of his muscles while his teeth clenched. She had seen his power, witnessed his bloodshed, and it all but tickled the girl. The girl she was before may have been scared, but her as Lauren now, the vampire who loved was broken because of it, could match his strength. Even more than that, she could break him by her words, piece by damaged piece, as if her words still mattered to him, not that they ever did before.
She bit back memories, thoughts of before. They didn’t matter now. Nothing really did. If it weren’t for her insolent pride, she may have believed his words, believe that he wanted to help her, but she was nothing more to him than someone to save. He was trying to save her, and for what? For a project to be amused by? To ease his guilt?
❝If you want to save me so bad,❞ her tongue rolled out, breathes shaky, eyes quivering with unknown thoughts. ❝Then save me the way princes do, Because you actually fucking care, not some self-righteous bullshit for your soul.
She may have wanted saving, but not like this. Who the hell would want to be saved like this? This wasn’t saving. This was obliteration of will. She growled, nails digging into the wooden chair, heels snapping the ground beneath her, fire burning through her skin from the lack of blood and the burn of the rope. Was she so shattered that she needed to be treated as a prisoner in order to be saved by him?
❝We both know I’m not worth it anyway.❞
❝Don’t talk like that.❞ Mitchell snapped, his eyes softening slightly, even as his voice took on a biting edge.
❝We both know that’s not true. I’m not doing this to hurt you, Lauren.❞
The elder vampire scowled, tugging a hand through his already rumpled hair and staring at the floor.
❝You asked me to stake you, remember? And I told you no. I didn’t want to hurt you then, and I don’t want to hurt you now.❞
He raised his eyes to meet hers again, his gaze stern and unwavering.
"Whatever you like." Teska smiled, honestly endeared by the vampire’s behavior. She passed the armour over to Mitchell, not at all bothered by his state of undress.
"Put this on. There are only a few things I want you to do, alright? There are gonna be a lot of people watching, so you gotta let ‘em know that you’re the alpha. Put on a good show, kill them as fast as you want, but make it messy.” In reality, it wasn’t about Mitchell’s status, but the Capitol’s. By broadcasting such a horrific show, showing the people of Panem what they could really dp, it’d scare them into submission.
Mitchell slipped his armour on without complaint; the lightweight metal and soft black leather felt almost like a second skin to him now, and he made quick work of the buckles and straps, his hands moving through muscle memory rather than with any kind of focus.
He’d been through this ritual often enough.
❝I can do that.❞ The vampire nodded, his tongue flicking out briefly to swipe over his freshly protruding fangs – already salivating at the mere thought of being able to feed – as his lips quirked up into a feral grin.
His shoulders uncurled as he slipped into the lax, calm demeanour that always seemed to fall over him before the monster in him fought its way to the front.
He could feel it now, sharp points against the soft flesh of his tongue, the soft, purring sound echoing through his head and his fingers flexed slightly at his sides; reminiscent of a wild cat uncurling their claws.
The Hostel
Elliot stopped pacing once Mitchell moved to the door, her hands balling up into fists. Killing wasn’t going to be the hard part, drinking was. To know in a very distant part of her mind how unnatural it was while all of her other senses were on overload, begging her to do it.
Her body flinched unbidden by the wet noise the man made as he made contact with first the desk and the floor.
"Did you really have…to………do……………..that."
Mitchell was right, even a blossoming so minuscule was enough to make her loose all sense. Elliot took a step towards him and then another, unblinking. She had thought the urge to get the blood off the other vampire’s face had been strong, but this proved to shatter it. This time she wouldn’t be able to stop herself.
"Why not?"
Elliot answered. She didn’t turn to look at him but her expression still turned incredulous. When she was close enough she knelt down next to the sniveling old man, already begging them with only the word ‘please’. When she spoke again it partially answered Mitchell’s question further but really she was talking more to herself and the man who would be dying shortly
"He deserves it doesn’t he, kept me up here, asked me how my night was, locked the door an kept the key. Used his fists once or twice when I wouldn’t take the pills. You remember that don’t you. How I begged you to stop and you refused….”
Pausing she pressed one finger to the blood seeping onto his forehead, bringing it to her mouth. Even that small drop was euphoric, sooty with age, leaving her desperate for more. The old man tried squirming away and Elliot watched him, head cocked to the side. Only one thing was keeping her from just tearing at his throat and that was Mitchell but his distractions were quickly loosing their effect.
"Why should I behave any differently."
❝To incapacitate him.❞ Mitchell shrugged, pushing the door shut with his foot, moving to crouch down beside the man.
He closed a firm hand around his throat keeping him pressed against the desk, hard enough to hurt but not enough to cut off his air; squeezing a little tighter as Elliot spoke, his lips twisting up into a grimace as a spark of protectiveness shot through him at her words.
He could feel the man’s pulse thundering beneath the pads of his fingers; stuttering, jerking with fear and he turned his eyes back to the fledgling.
❝If y’going t’feed, hurry up and do it before his heart gives out.❞ The elder warned, his expression morphing into something darker, an almost twisted smile gracing his features as he used his thumb to coax the stranger’s head back; exposing more of his throat to Elliot’s dark eyes.
Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it’s gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it’s not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth.
Azra T (via flawlez)
I'm vanishing off for the night because I wanna get some russian work done self-teaching languages is disgusting help
I'll still be hanging about on my rp skype though
“Get up.” Teska wasn’t used to disobedience, and she didn’t appreciate it. Beast or not, she was in charge, and she had authority. And, more importantly, she had a taser to deal with any disobedient behavior from the vampire.
"We’ve got a few in for you to chew on, some fifth district weaklings. Hungry?"
❝Starving.❞ The vampire muttered, forcing himself to sit upright; unmindful of his nudity as he stood.
They never let him have clothes in here, in his cage. One of the many ‘normal’ facets of human life he wasn’t privy too. Not that he remembered anything before this; the cold, the blood, and the thick, pristine glass of his cell.
❝Do I get to feed, or am I supposed to make them scream first?❞ He asked his handler, his tone blasé as he quirked up an eyebrow ever so slightly; not wanting to show his enthusiasm at the prospect of letting the beast loose.
The darkness inside him was coiled tight. It wanted to run amok and stretch its legs, even if only for a few brief moments. But they both knew it needed permission.
"I miiight have some left,” By some, she meant a ridiculous amount. She had a nose for money, and a hunger for the rich. There was profit to be made in murder, and Ginger used each and every penny to keep herself occupied. She basically lived with Mitchell anyway. “If you tell me who your favourite werewolf is. And pick the right answer.”
❝Easy. George.❞ Mitchell teased, smirking down at the werewolf – his bad mood abated at the prospect of an easy high.
❝Because he doesn’t steal my clothes and stink out my room.❞
The vampire shot her a wry grin as he leaned forward to snag a lukewarm mug of tea from the coffee table – sending a silent thank you to Annie, who tended to make herself scarce when Ginger was lurking about – and taking a sip before he spoke again.
❝But t'en again, George doesn’t suck my cock, so I guess t'at makes you my favourite by default.❞
The Hostel
Elliot took back up pacing while Mitchell explained. She kept opening her mouth a little to avoid the fangs, not used to the feeling, and unsure of what to do with herself.
"I don’t have attachments."
She narrowed her eyes at his tone, swallowing thickly. The old man with the pills had entered the hallway by that point but he still had a ways to go. She remembered now who he was and why he was making his way to her door. Her eyes flipped black in anger and though she was looking at Mitchell when it happened, the wrath -at least not all of it- was not for him.
Perhaps it was her new found “enlightenment” that changed her mind. For if she was asked the day before if she would have killed the old man given the chance her answer would have been no. Elliot thought him kind, bringing her pills to help her sleep off anything she felt after killing; but if he had truly been kind he would have let her leave. Instead he made sure she slept to stay in one place.
He would die for it.
"The hallway, he’s in the hallway I don’t want to hunt, I want to kill.”
With the ending of her sentence, Elliot’s fangs extended fully. Once again her expression changed; fury to fear. Fear from the things that Mitchell’s blood had given her.
Mitchell just nodded.
It was no use arguing with a fledgling once they’d caught the scent of blood.
He could hear the thumping pulse of the man in the hallway – elderly, he’d guess from the slight stuttering – and he quirked up an eyebrow at the sight of Elliot’s pitch-black eyes.
❝I'll get the door.❞ He said sharply. With his strength restored, dealing with the stranger would be piss easy.
A few, long strides carried Mitchell quickly across the room and he paused for only a brief moment, waiting until the man was directly outside before flinging the door open and seizing him by the collar. He tossed him into the room with little finesse – and even less effort – watching with amusement as he crashed into the heavy wooden desk, lying in the middle of the floor; dazed and terrified.
Even sated as he was, the thin line of crimson trickling down the elderly man’s forehead had saliva pooling in the vampire’s mouth, and he cast his eyes over to Elliot, knowing that even that tiny stream of blood would be enough to shatter even the strongest fledgling’s control.
❝Why him?❞ Mitchell asked, wanting her to hold off a little longer. His interest had been peaked by her strong reaction to the sound of his heartbeat, and before he’d let her tear the man to pieces, he wanted to know why.
