entrancelogs | | closed | life moves very fast

Entry tags:

| closed | life moves very fast

Who: Bucky and various
Where: Hell
When: During the event
Rating: Will update as needed
Summary: Fighting and general event shenanigans
The Story:

Closed to Steve:
[Waking up in a strange place was disorienting, no more so than waking up in the orchard had been, but that's because he was getting used to all these events. All he had to do was make it through them and everything would go back to normal. He blinks awake that first morning, tense at the unfamiliar surroundings, only to roll right over into Steve.

He's immediately more calm, not relaxed, but better.]

Wake up, Steve.

[His hand on Steve's shoulder, he gently shakes.]

There's an event.

[Everything had been good the night before. No nightmares, falling asleep with Steve curled around him, but the longer he's awake, the more pissed he is about it all. He's frustrated with how often the events come around.]

Closed to Mettaton:
[After finding out where they are and what's going on, to the best of his ability, Bucky goes looking for his people. Those he cares about and wants to make sure are okay. It's methodical, how he crosses them off the list one by one, no real way to find anyone other than search each hut until he does.

Relief washes over him when he sees the robot.]

Mettaton.

[Sure, he's just busted in on a hut that wasn't his without asking if he could come in first, but they're in Hell and certain allowances have to be made.]

Is everything okay? [He glances around them.] Are you okay?

[After checking, then he'd tell Mettaton that he's feeling differently down here. He has the right to know.]

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Oh, is that so? Well, I've always been a bit of a rebel, so that works out fine in my favor!

[He says that so airily, like he doesn't have a care in the world.

All in all, Mettaton's tone and body language don't match to anything he's done before. He's confident, sure, he's charismatic, yes, but the warmth that usually permeates his interactions with Bucky is gone.]

Oh darling, you needn't worry about that! I can't get hurt; I'm untouchable! As a star, I never let these sorts of things get close to me. I have no time for such silly things like that.

[That... feels strange to say. It feels good and bad at the same time and Mettaton's smile falters a bit.

You're not silly he thinks weakly to himself. I actually care quite a...

No. No no. No. Not this again. This event has been freeing him of the burden of these feelings and emotions and it has felt so good. He doesn't want it to end.

He sits up abruptly, forcing his smile to be right again.]

If you're truly sorry, you're required to make it up to me. Simple as that.

[Bucky allows emotion to show, face scrunching up in distaste at the way Mettaton speaks to him. Something's different and he can't tell if it's where they are or because of their last conversation. The thought that it could be the latter brings that ache back to the surface and he'd rather let all those other weird traits he's feeling squash that down and out, anything to keep that dull pain from settling in his chest again.

He straightens as soon as Mettaton does, hyper aware of his movements.]

Okay, but how?

[The crueler version of Bucky that lies dormant scratches at him, reminds him of how the other responds to flirting, to Bucky's touch and kiss, and that if he plays that angle, he can manipulate Mettaton into forgiving him. It's irrational, and wrong, but he wants that, wants them to be okay.

It's like a switch flips, mouth quirking up as he takes a step forward.]

Is there somewhere we can sit together?

[He’s intrigued by the way Bucky snaps to attention, and Mettaton’s face breaks open into a hungry smirk.]

Yes.

[He leans back into the chair again.]

My lap, for starters. If that’s not to your tastes, I have other beautiful pelts and things we can sit on.

[Leaning back moves the current covering of the chair that the robot is sitting on, pulling it to reveal a portion of one of the legs. The stark whiteness of the bones that make up the leg stands out against the general brown tones of the hut they are in. The haphazard mess of non-humanoid and humanoid hard tissue continues on underneath the pelt; it’s not hard to assume that the entire throne Mettaton is sitting on is made of the same thing.]

[Bucky's eyes flit to the chair, what it's made of, but it doesn't hold his attention. Mettaton does. He's ruined things between them once already, and even if this doesn't fix them for good, he's still going to try. Bucky's big, solid, too, but Mettaton is bigger, can hold his weight.

He crosses the room and climbs into Mettaton's lap, straddling, both metal thighs sandwiched between his own.]

It's to my tastes.

[His hands smooth down Mettaton's arms, back up again to rest on his shoulders. Bucky wants this, whatever it ends up being, and since they're still learning each other, figuring out what does and doesn't work, he just tells him to save time.]

Don't pin me down. Everything else is fine.

[Bucky's eagerness and straightforward response is a damning encouragement, and Mettaton wastes no time in reaching out to grab at the man as he straddles him.

It feels good to have him here. It feels right. This is a natural and consequential happening. After all, a Monster like him is entitled to anything he desires, and his desire for this human is great.

His arms wind themselves around Bucky's waist, enjoying the solid and warm body pressed to him.]

Everything else is fine...? That's a dangerous thing to say, my dear. You have no idea what I could ask of you with a statement like that.

[He wouldn't ask for much, of course. He'd just ask for everything. Everything and anything he can give him. And more.]

[Bucky knows what he's saying, what he's telling Mettaton. It's permission, something that Bucky has to give in order to be able to do this. He doesn't think Mettaton would ever take without asking first, but verbalizing consent is more for him than anybody else. Hearing himself say that something is okay, that he wants it, is how he allows himself to do it.

He might not want things exactly like this between them, but he's desperate enough to fix them that he'll take anything.]

Then ask it of me.

[His legs tighten, hands gripping as he tugs Mettaton up and into him.]

Stop talking about it and do it.

[Normally Mettaton would at least consider someone else's feelings before doing anything like this towards them, but here, there is no one else's regard that matters but his own. Only his own pleasures and desires to fulfill.

His grin turns wicked as Bucky tugs him closer.]

Weeell... since you insist.

[He tilts his head towards one of Bucky's ears, close enough to whisper. There's no breath to tickle the flesh but there is the low mechanically sultry tones of his voice to tantalize and ensnare, all the same.]

What I want is everything. Everything and anything you can give. I want to have you, Bucky. Possess you. And now that you're here, I do.

[His head moves away from his ear to his neck, leaving small, gentle kisses as he goes. A small voice stirs in the back of his mind again. No, don't say that. That could hurt him. Don't you remember what those awful people did to him?

Mettaton pauses a bit, hovering over the juncture of Bucky's shoulder and neck. It's a small struggle within him for a moment, his darker tendencies fighting against the moral voice inside him trying to rise to the surface, but his indulgences win and he promptly bites down on the man's skin. It's hard and unforgiving and sure to leave a pretty nasty mark.]

I own you.

[He speaks that into Bucky's skin, his teeth pressed against him still. He can feel Mettaton's grin. The little voice of morality seems almost panicked now, but he ignores it.]

[Everything was a lot and Bucky didn't really think he had that much to give anyone else. All the good left in him was almost gone, dried up and stripped from him.

A shaky breath slips out, and wonders if that's the price he has to pay. Is letting someone else posses him, take and control everything he has, the only way that he can ever be with someone else? His mind gives him two answers at the same time, yes and no, but the no is soft and desperate, and that yes echoes over and over until he can't hear the no anymore.]

Mettaton.

[His body is tense, shuddering at each soft kiss, and something breaks in him when the robot bites down - it hurts, a lot deeper down than physical pain. Bucky makes a sound at those words, a broken, wounded sob that catches in his chest and causes everything else to shut down. He goes pliant, submissive, a responsive body without anything that is distinctly Bucky in his movements.

He wants this. It's not something he should.]

[It's the sob more than anything else that makes Mettaton stop his movements. His hands, which had started to creep their way up and under Bucky's shirt, pause in their tracks, his gloved fingers gentle against his skin.

He buries his head into Bucky's shoulder and is silent for a moment. He can't think straight. Bucky has become so willing, so submissive, so compliant in his arms and he wants nothing more than to touch and taste and feel everything he can take from the man-

But.

This is not Bucky. This is not the Bucky he knows Bucky wants to be. This is not the man that he is.... that he cares for.

Mettaton is not the person he wants to be for him.

He finally lifts his head, his hands slipping out from Bucky's shirt to cradle the man's face. His thumbs softly stroke his cheeks and he looks him in the eyes.]

I...

[It's hard. It's too hard, too quick, his mind reeling. It feels like he's drowning, swimming desperately for the surface as the undertow pulls him down, back to the murky depths below. He can't say sorry now. How do you say sorry for this?

He's hurt him. He never wanted to hurt him. He shouldn't have let himself get like this, and even now he can barely do anything, can't even apologize and tell him that he deserves better because the thought of ripping his clothes off and fucking him until he screams his name loud enough for the entire realm to hear keeps him rooted in place.

Finally he moves, wanting so desperately to press his lips against Bucky's, shower him in small, delicate kisses. He resists, instead leaning down and pressing their foreheads together.]

Not here. Not like this.

-1 to ZEZPQB BT FRESMNF IZDVZ BEFVQN GC NBVBW

What?

[He's slow to respond. Mettaton is stopping now and they haven't done anything. It feels like a rejection, a failure, as Mettaton pulls his hand out from under his shirt and tells him that he's changed his mind. Bucky's not in the right head-space to be graceful, or accepting, of Mettaton backing out before they've started.

It's like waking up from a dream - he'd fallen into it one man and was coming out of it another. He drags his metal hand up to Mettaton's throat, gripping and shoving him back against his throne.]

Yes here. Yes like this.

[Because if not now, then when? Bucky was in danger of cracking. They weren't together, not even friends anymore, back in Wonderland, because he'd messed it all up. Now, when it had seemed like he'd at least get something, even if it was wrong, it's being taken from him, because he hadn't been strong enough to handle it. He wasn't good no matter what he did. So if Mettaton didn't want good, then he'd give him the opposite.

It all makes him angry, desperate.] You want me, I know you do.

[He squeezes his fingers just enough to apply a little pressure, and then pushes in and kisses Mettaton hard. Bucky drags his teeth across his lower lip, tries to slip his tongue into Mettaton's mouth.]

[He's so wrapped up in his own head, his own problems, that he's not expecting Bucky's sudden aggression, his defense down. The metal hand wraps around his throat and while he doesn't breathe, for a moment it feels like his "breath" is taken away by surprise as he's shoved backwards.

"Because they are made of magic, monsters' bodies are attuned to their SOUL. If a monster doesn't want to fight, its defenses will weaken. And the crueler the intentions of our enemies, the more their attacks will hurt us. Therefore, if a being with a powerful SOUL struck with the desire to kill... Um, let's end the chapter here..."

Intentions and the way they reflect in magic has been a constant in Mettaton's life, from his days as a ghost to his days as a robot. He can feel the intent behind this attack, even as his head hits the back of the throne and he feels his HP (already lower than usual due to this event's stripping of his electronics) take a small hit. Bucky doesn't want to kill him, he can feel it. But the desire to hurt and control is still there.

He can always recognize Alphys's work. She puts her magic into soldering metal, works her intent to build and create into whatever shape she wants. He'd always admired that about her. He should tell her sometime. This recognition just makes this feeling of the arm she made for Bucky all the more alien, feeling her latent magic sparking and responding to Bucky's emotions and feelings.

Funny. This almost feels like a Monster encounter....

FIGHT ACT ITEM MERCY

...

MERCY]

Bucky, this can't- you have to understand that we-

[He squeezes and Mettaton unwittingly opens his mouth. He doesn't think of a smart response before Bucky's mouth is on his, his tongue inside his mouth and he groans a bit. He missed Bucky's taste, missed his hands on his body, and he feels his resolve chip away just a little as he kisses back.

It takes him another moment, his metal tongue twisting around Bucky's before he wrenches himself away again.]

Bucky, please. This isn't you. This isn't me. What's the... the point of this if we aren't ourselves?

[* Mettaton is sparing you.]

No.

[It felt good, Mettaton's mouth against his own, the tongue in his mouth - as if it was all leading towards something that they'd both enjoy. But then he stops it. He stops it and it's another rejection and Bucky doesn't know how much more of this he can take.]

You didn't want me then, not really.

[He presses his mouth to the corner of Mettaton's, presses hurried, desperate kisses across his jaw, down his throat to meet his hand.]

You would have fought for me. [Bucky squeezes his hand again, stretches out his fingers and drags his palm down Mettaton's chest.] But you want me now. I can tell, you don't have to pretend here.

[Bucky doesn't like the way his voice sounds, doesn't want to hurt Mettaton. He hates that he feels that this is the only way to get what he wants, for them to be together. His body aches as if something else is pulling the strings, tugging too tight, hurting him.]

Why are you doing this to me? [He leans back, hands settled on Mettaton's shoulders, gripping.] Decide now.

[You didn't want me then, not really.

Oh how wrong he is. Mettaton wants him more than he cares to admit, more than someone like him should. He wants him in every way he can have him, good and bad, and oh how tempting is the bad right now.

Bucky is practically throwing himself on him, and once again his resolve is shaking as he feels those kisses, so sweet, on his jaw and throat. His lips brush one of those special sensors and he lets out a small moan. He shifts as he unconsciously tries to give Bucky more room on his lap.

His hand feels strong and sure as it drags down his chest and for one wild moment Mettaton wonders if Bucky will go for his soul. Will he try to grasp it? Take it? What kind of beast would they become then? The powers of a god, a mixture of human and monster in one. ...No. That's silly. Mettaton isn't a Boss Monster. His soul wouldn't last long enough outside of his body for Bucky to absorb it.

He comes back from his thoughts as Bucky continues speaking. Decide now he says, and he considers what he wants.

Bucky wants to be possessed. Why else would he be acting like this? He is offering himself up to Mettaton on a silver platter, and that old voice, temporarily silent in the wake of his original horror, surges back to life gleefully.

He wants this. You want this. Why deny what you both want? Take him. Own him. Use him. Destroy him. He'll let you. He'll let you do a n y t h i n g if you just give in. Don't you want a human as your plaything?]

I do want you, Bucky.

[He can't pretend here. He's right.]

But I can't do this to you. I won't be like them. I won't be like those people who hurt you.

[He says this even as his hands shake with the effort to keep himself from wrenching the man forward and demanding he please him, ordering him to fall into place and let him use Bucky however he wishes.

Perhaps, if things between them become better, they could... "Explore" this sort of thing again. But here? Like this? It's poisonous. He couldn't take care of the man like he would need if he actually...]

I've decided that this won't go further. And I'm not afraid to make sure you understand that.

[His soul aches. It's tired from sustaining him. But it will make bullets if needed. Mettaton will FIGHT if he needs to.

FIGHT ACT ITEM MERCY

ACT

* Check

* BUCKY BARNES ??? ATK ??? DEF
* He's giving you no choice]

[Bucky breaks, cracks from the inside out.

He never wanted Mettaton to be like them, but Bucky caused this. He pushed and pushed out of desperation. He wanted them to still be close, didn't want to lose him, so he'd resorted to manipulation to make it happen. He'd tried to flirt and seduce, to make Mettaton take him so that they could still be together and what did that make Bucky, if not exactly like the people he hated so much.]

I understand.

[There's a moment where his eyes flick up in confusion, at the threat of a fight, of pain, and then they go cloudy again, dark. He feels dazed, not himself anymore.]

I understand. [The same words, though in Russian.] I understand.

[He pushes back from Mettaton, stumbles out of his lap and off the throne, movements stilted and abrupt, robotic. Bucky complies, he'll go, he has to. He doesn't know where to go, but he has to leave. He turns towards the door, mumbling the same words under his breath, switching from Russian to English, the languages bleeding together as his own confusion mounts.]

[The man crumbles in front of him and Mettaton is too exhausted to do anything other than watch in bewilderment as he switches from one human language to the next.

He hurt him. No matter what he did, he hurt the man, whether it was pulling him close or pushing him away. He slumps in his ill-gotten throne as he watches Bucky stumble, completely useless.

Mettaton should do something. He should get up and do something, maybe help the poor man. But he does nothing. He can't bring himself to do anything. He feels empty; stretched so thin having used what little empathy and compassion he had left.

Hell sinks its tenterhooks into him quickly once his guard is down, once he gives up on trying to help. It fills the emptiness with darkness and a small smile creeps on his face. How much better it is to not care anymore! Thank goodness that's over.

See you later, Bucky~! ♥]

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| closed | life moves very fast

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PDA CW and uh. Slight injury as well haha WHOOPS

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