Bucky Barnes X Female Reader - Blog Posts

Daddy? - b. barnes

a/n; just a little headcanon on how I feel Bucky would react to his s/o being pregnant- worried and scared mainly.

pairing; TFATWS Bucky x female! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

warnings; n/a

word count; 563

headcanon; Finding out girlfriend/fiancée/wife is pregnant.

links; Marvel Matserlist | Masterlist

© springismss - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

Blinking in confusion, it took him a minute to process what was said and that’s when it had hit him. Did he hear what you had said correctly? You were pregnant?

Feels like his heart stopped for a moment. Part of him feels like this is the last thing he wanted to happen right now. The other half practically screaming for joy.

The internal conflict he felt soon showed on his face. Was he ready to be a dad? He certainly didn't feel ready. Not in the slightest.

He'd only just gotten back to being classed as a normal citizen, not only by his therapist but the government as well. He didn’t want to mess that up so soon with emotions that threatened to overflow.

How could someone who was known to be a cold-blooded killer, despite his now successful attempt to fit back into society be deemed fit enough to look after a tiny life?

He certainly didn't think he would be fit enough as his eyes glanced at the objects you held in your outstretched hands.

A scan picture in one hand, showing the tiny life slowly growing in you. In the other a tiny little bodysuit with the words "Sergeant In Training coming soon!"

The look on your face was one of pure joy as you looked at him, your joy dropping as you chewed your lip in anticipation for his actual reaction. You both knew it was bound to happen sooner or later - he couldn’t keep his hand off you half the time.

How it hadn’t happened earlier was beyond you. Yet here you were, proof in your hands as your figure began to swell slightly. "James? Are you okay?".

He'd been zoned out for so long he that didn't realise you had moved forward until he looked down, seeing your eyes look up at him as you continued to hold the items in your hands.

Wrapping his arms around you, he embraced you, holding you close to him as he smiled softly. His grip on you never fading as he rubbed patterns on the small of your back, afraid to let you go now you're carrying something precious to not only him but you. "Yes doll, I'm okay~".

Leans down and peppers kisses all over your face, enjoying the sound of your small laughs as you hug closer to him. “~Besides, I should be asking you if you're okay. After all, it might not be an easy pregnancy for you".

The reality is he's scared. Scared because he doesn't know if he's fit to look after something so small and delicate when they arrive.

Also, he’s scared for you. Carrying a super soldier's child was rumoured to be an extremely difficult time. All thanks to that serum once used. “James, I'm okay. As long as I take care, I'll handle whatever this little one throws at me".

He steps back from you after removing his arms, placing his flesh hand on your slightly swollen stomach. Your soft hum lulling him as your hands cover his.

He loves you. He adores you. He'll protect you and support you no matter how hard it is.

It's the least he can do, after all, you did that for him. You never backed down and you fought with such pride and love, he knows you’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Telling myself I don’t need to write about virgin Bucky who grew up in a strict household, never touching himself because he doesn’t want to commit a sin. Suppressing every single urge he’s ever felt his entire life. He gets to college and stays at his best friend’s place over the winter break which is great until his best friend’s single mom is the most gorgeous thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. She’s so sweet. So pretty. He knows he’s screwed when he has to excuse himself from the dinner table, taking a hot shower, struggling to get his erection to go away. He lets out a soft little whine, gripping his cock and balls, giving it a squeeze to calm down but it doesn’t work. He swears he’s going to cry, it was so wrong, he had to stop.

I don’t need to write about how he’s gonna end up in her bed. I don’t need to talk about how Subby and needy he is. Scared. Shy. Such a cute little virgin literally never touched in his life. We don’t have to talk about all the things mommy is going to teach him like how to touch himself, giving him instructions to follow like a good boy. We don’t have to talk about how badly he wants to be good, asking if you’re sure this is okay? Isn’t it bad, mommy? Is this wrong? Mommy, are you sure? No mommy, no one’s ever touched me there.

We don’t need to talk about the possessive, jealous daddy he eventually turns into, ruining her till she’s a mess of tears and his cream.

I don’t need to write about it.

need

roommate! bucky barnes x reader

summary || Bucky gets horny while watching a movie.

warnings || handjob, crack fic — MINORS DNI

divider by @firefly-graphics

I don’t even know what this is lmaooo.

You stifled a yawn as you stretched your legs further into Bucky’s lap, it was a tradition now since your feet always got cold. Your eyes were drooping low, but you shook your head to stay awake. The TV was throwing colours over the overwise dark room and you were getting sleepy looking at the bright screen.

“That boring?” Bucky asked, turning away from the stupid horror movie he had chosen. “No. I’m just very tired.” You lied. You were sleepy, while watching a horror movie, and it wasn’t even halfway through. The movie was just downright terrible.

“Don’t lie. I know it’s awful. Kinda was a bad pick.” Bucky said dejectedly. “Uff, glad to know I’m not the only one who thinks this is pathetic.” Bucky was a little touchy when it came to the movies he selected, so you tended not to usually criticise them in front of him.

You were about to switch off the TV when suddenly the main characters started making out, in the middle of a haunted house. You wanted to roll your eyes, but the scenes were oddly arousing. The scenes progressed further until they were literally fucking in the dilapidated room.

You wiggled your feet a little in Bucky’s lap to get more comfortable, but then foot accidentally touched something hard and hot in his pants. You both stilled and left the TV to look straight into each other’s eyes.

A devilish idea crossed in your head and you pressed your foot down a little harder. He hissed through his teeth and yet didn’t stop you, so you decided to continue rubbing your foot over his tented pants. But then you purposely took your leg away to gauge his reaction.

“Don’t tease me doll.” His voice was raspy as he looked at you with lust blown eyes. You crawled further until you were right next to him. In the dim light of the TV playing the now forgotten movie, you could see his blue eyes sparkling.

Bucky was a gorgeous man and you’d be a fool to not want him. Bucky placed his hand on your chin and smashed your lips together in a passionate kiss. You trailed your hand down the hard planes of his body as you kissed him.

“Fuck.” He cursed when you slipped your hand into his pants and curled your hand around his hot length. You pressed tight circles on his slit with your thumb and spread the precum. He closed his eyes and leaned against the sofa once you started moving your hand along his length.

You had accidentally seen Bucky naked once, and you knew he was well endowed. But jerking him off was a whole another experience. Your eyes weren’t leaving Bucky’s face because he looked absolutely magnificent, his eyes closed and his plump lip trapped between his teeth as he relaxed.

“I’ve wanted this for so long… fuck!” He sighed as you twisted your hand around his head. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” You asked as you started moving your hand faster. “I… I thought you didn’t want… fuck, I’m going to cum!”

“No wait! Not on the couch please!” You cried out. You were about to take your hand away, but Bucky held you there. “Please god, don’t stop!” His hand guided your fist to go faster. “Bucky! You’re going to ruin the couch and the carpet.”

“No. Take…” he closed his eyes and you could feel that he was on the edge as his cock twitched in your hand. “Take the mug.. quick!” Following Bucky blindly, you took the first cup you could reach on the table. Bucky groaned loudly as he came and you collected his cum in the cup.

Bucky’s body sagged into the couch when he came down from the orgasmic high. You giggled like idiots about what just had happened before your eyes went back to the mug. “Oh my god Bucky! You just ruined my favourite coffee cup!” You screamed.

“I wouldn’t say ruined it…. umm, I just added some extra cream.” He said laughing at his own joke. “Ewww. Not funny.” You said making a face. Bucky pulled you back in his arms and held you there. Soon, you too started laughing on the absurdity of the whole situation. “Well, it was still better than the movie.”

SILVER ➳ BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST

➳ summary: When your best friends Peter, MJ, and Ned drag you along to a concert, you never expected to fall head over heels with the band, more so the drummer. Wild and erotic, Bucky Barnes is a rich rock star who gets everything handed to him. Between the money, fame, and platinum records, he has a nasty reputation. But when an innocent girl like you comes along, he can't stay away.

➳ pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x College!Reader

➳ warnings: will feature smut, suggestive themes, angst, age gap; Reader is 20, Bucky is 30

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

C H A P T E R S

➳ one

➳ two

➳ three

➳ four

➳ five

➳ six

➳ seven

➳ eight

➳ nine

➳ ten

➳ eleven

➳ twelve

➳ thirteen

➳ fourteen

➳ fifteen

➳ sixteen

L I N K S

➳ spotify playlist

➳ the color collection masterlist

➳ If you love SILVER, check out my original fic on Wattpad; MY SWEETEST ADDICTION

YES THE FUCK IT IS BABY!!!!!!

get ready for me to be insufferable again. i’d say and for me to be back in my bucky phase, but i never left 😄

paranormal love

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x fem!reader

a/n: Bucky is going to be very OOC for the first half of this. Just trust the author on this one, it will all make sense in time. (Toxic relationships, paranormal happenings - you have been warned)

Summary: Moving into this house was supposed to be the blessing your marriage needed. Instead you only seem to be twisted against each other. Something lurks within these walls, something angry, something lonely. Someone wants you gone, and he’ll do whatever it takes to have his revenge on the woman who left him behind. (Part of my Halloween Palooza)

“Okay,” you say, balancing the camera in your palm, zooming in on James’ back while he unpacks the kitchen boxes. “Wanna smile for the camera?”

He gives you a glance over his shoulder before turning and waving to the camera. He chuckles a little, glancing down at the lens and then back at you. “What are you doing?”

You sigh, placing the camera on the counter and letting it record. “Well, you know how the lady said this place was haunted?”

He rolls his eyes and glares at you. “I told you not to listen to her, that chick was off her meds.” You swat at his arm but he bounces away from you playfully. 

“Shut up,” you mutter, holding back a small laugh. “I just thought that if there were any supernatural happenings,” you nod towards the camera, “we’ll need proof if we’re going to make this a tourist trap.”

James smiles, leaning over to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Good call, babe.” You smile after him as he heads back out to the truck to bring in more boxes. Your eyes briefly dart to the camera before you shake your head with a disbelieving chuckle. 

Do you believe in the supernatural? Yes. The metaphysical? Depends on who’s trying to sell you their tarot cards. But you do know that when that woman handed you the keys after you bought the place, you’d never seen such stark relief. 

That poor old woman was terrified of living in this house alone. Of course, the old bitch didn’t tell you about all the horrific things that happened here until after you signed the deed. If you had known this place was haunted, even if it’s not, you never would have bought it. 

Sadly, all your money and savings are now tied into this home. James says not to worry, that there’s nothing wrong with the place. But he’s always been a cynic and he’s never really believed in anything so miraculous as ghosts. Besides, he’s the type of guy to argue with you until he’s purple in the face that the sky is red when he’s in a mood. 

There’s no talking him out of this. And you can’t begin your newlywed life arguing with your husband about the place you just made your forever home. Anyways, it’s not like you’ve noticed anything bad yet. 

The camera is mainly a joke to mess with James and make yourself feel better about the whole thing. You’ll turn it off tonight, be done with it, and hopefully get over this irrational fear of yours. 

12 AM

You spit the toothpaste into the sink and rinse your mouth with water. You’ve noticed a strange metallic taste with all the unfiltered sinks. You're worried you might have to call a plumber or someone to check it out. You don’t want to get lead poisoning your first night here. 

You freeze, still bent over the sink, and your jaw snaps shut. Eyes are boring into the back of your head, hateful and angry. It’s not James, you would know if it was. This is something different, the hair on the back of your neck is standing up, goosebumps rolling up and down your arms. There’s a rush of cool air, like something running past you, and your head shoots up in surprise. 

You scream when you see James in the mirror’s reflection. He jumps back in shock, lowering the camera and giving you an exasperated look. A second ago you’d been completely alone and he’d been downstairs, where the fuck did he come from?

“What the hell, James?” You wipe your mouth off with the back of your hand and whirl around on him. He glares at you, eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction. 

“Talk about an overreaction. What the hell is your problem?” He snaps, taking that tone with you that you know means you have to be careful. You don’t feel like getting into another fight with him. Especially not tonight. 

“You scared me,” you trail off into an awkward laugh, hoping to ease up the mood a little. He slams the camera down on the counter. Your shoulders jump and you flinch back from him slightly. “What’re you doing with the camera?” You ask, glancing down at the lens and frowning. You spot the red blinking light and realize he’s still recording, your brows furrow in confusion. 

“It was your idea, wasn’t it?” His tone is short and you huff in disappointment. You hadn’t realized something as small as a little scare would piss him off. You used to be good at reading his moods. Since the wedding, though, he seems to have just gotten more and more unpredictable. 

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, your feet dangling over the floor as you kick your legs. You hate how tall the damn bed frame is, you have a horrible paranoia that something’s going to grab you one day and yank you under. James, of course, had just laughed when you told him this and then bought it. He thought it was funny, that it would help you overcome your fears. 

You still have goosebumps from earlier, the same breeze from before tickles the pads of your feet. You glance down with wide eyes, yanking your legs into your chest and scooting back from the edge. James flips the lights off in the bathroom and walks to the end of the bed. He’s dragged out the tripod and has got it pointed at the bed. 

You tilt your head with a coy smile, “Planning on having some fun tonight?”

He glances between you and the camera, a confused furrow between his brows. You scoff out a laugh as the realization dawns over him. “If you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind some after-dark fun.” You roll your eyes and tug the covers over your legs. He leaves the camera and crawls on the bed towards you. “But that’s not what it's for.”

“Oh yeah?” You glance over his shoulder and then turn back to him with an odd look. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into the supernatural junk?” You tuck your head into his chest, letting him pull you closer as he flips the lamp off. “You’re supposed to keep me tethered to reality, remember?” You tease, looking up at him. 

He glances down at you and shrugs. “The lady did say the master bedroom is the worst, I’m just curious if we’ll catch anything.” 

You shoot the camera a concerned look and shake your head. “I hope not,” you mutter. You snuggle in closer to him, trying to dismiss the feeling of someone watching you. You’re sure it’s just from the camera being on you. Besides, you always get too deep in your head about this stuff.

3 AM

You shoot up in bed, chest heaving as you stare down at your feet. James shifts behind you, grumbling as he flips over and steals the rest of the blankets. 

Your heart is pounding loudly in your chest as you simply sit there, staring at the end of the bed. You pause, holding your breath like the room might tell you its secrets. 

You’re normally a heavy sleeper, not even a fire would get you up. But something just did, you were ripped violently from your slumber. You almost want to dismiss it as an incredibly vivid nightmare. Yet, you can’t ignore the throbbing, almost freezing pain, that’s shooting up and down your left calf. 

The muscle is spasming sporadically and you can still feel the phantom touch of someone squeezing your leg. Your hip is sore from where you’d been dragged down. You’ve had pretty vivid dreams before. You’ve woken up with your feet sore like you’d been running, or your muscles cramped from twitching around so much. But this is a lot. 

You take in a deep breath, slowly pulling your legs into your chest. You slump over your bent knees, hoping to catch your breath and settle your racing mind. It’s impossible to ignore how cold your leg feels, you feel like you’re losing blood circulation. You can’t just go back to sleep with it like this, you’re gonna have to go downstairs and get James’ heat pack. 

You’re seriously starting to lose feeling in it now. You’re wondering if something didn’t drag you and maybe you’ve got a blood clot screwing your circulation up somehow. Hundreds of different possibilities race through your mind, each more worrying than the last. You can't sit up all night scaring yourself, you’re just gonna have to suck it up. 

You briefly consider waking James up so you don’t have to go downstairs alone. You hate how those stairs look in the dark, you feel like something is standing at the end, waiting to reach through the banister and drag you down. A ghost, however, sounds more inviting than making James grumpy before he has to go in for work tomorrow morning. 

With a heavy sigh, you force yourself off the bed and blindly grope through the dark for the wall. Your left leg is practically dead weight as you drag it behind you. Your hands skate along the dusty walls and you grimace, making a mental note to dust tomorrow. 

You’re trying to take it slow, to squint out as many shapes in the dark as you can. It’s nearly impossible to tell when you’re going to hit the stairs. You can only pray that you don’t go toppling headfirst down them. 

Slowly, you inch your toes forward and curl them around the edge of the step. From there it’s a long, arduous process of just trying to get down the stairs. It feels as though with each step you take, the house only grows darker. 

You wished you had taken the risk and turned the lights on. The feeling of eyes following you only gets worse as you finally reach the kitchen. The further you get from the bedroom, the worse your leg begins to throb. You can only be happy that you still feel it at all. 

Your hand skates along the wall until you feel the cool plastic of the light switch. As harsh as it is against the linoleum, it’s a stark relief from being all alone in the dark. You dig around in the moving boxes until you find James' heating pad. You toss it in the microwave and pull yourself on the counter, drumming your fingers while you wait for it to warm up. 

He hates you. He hates that you live in his house. He hates that she’s gone. Bette, he’ll miss her, the way the old woman’s face would screw up in terror always brought a sick satisfaction to him. 

You press the warm pad to your leg and hiss through your teeth as feeling begins returning to your calf. He has to admit, he hadn’t meant to grab you quite so hard. He just wanted one good scare, to either get you out of here or show you who's in charge. Your leg has turned an odd color in the shape of his handprint and it makes his lips curl up. 

There’s a loud ringing from upstairs. It grates on his already frayed nerves and makes anger roll off of him in violent, tangible waves. Your nose twitches, your face screwing up as you look around. There’s a suspicious glint in your eye, one your little husband doesn’t share with you. 

He has to admit, you’re smart enough to realize the truth of your situation, at least. Your husband doesn’t share the same characteristic. He seems alarmingly self-assured, not that he minds, those are his favorite types to break. 

He can hear upstairs, better than you would ever hope to. He listens as your husband picks up the phone, quietly yelling at someone on the other end. A woman, if the timbre is anything to go by. They both sound incredibly angry. He’s not interested in listening to something as trivial as this. 

He turns away from you and moves towards the stairs. He pauses at the base of them, glancing over his shoulder and really taking you in. You look so small, curled up on the counter with the look of a frightened child. 

You scream as the lightbulb above you explodes, plunging you into complete darkness. He smiles to himself, drifting up the stairs and lingering at the end of your bed. Your husband’s head shoots up in alarm and he pulls the phone away from his ear. 

The name Martha lingers on the small screen before he quickly flips it off and rushes out of bed. He blows right through the man at the end of his bed, flipping on the lights and racing down the stairs. He calls out your name, voice frantic and bordering on paranoia. 

He hadn’t thought you two would get scared quite so quickly. He’d been hoping to enjoy this a bit more. Perhaps he should slow down, and savor the long fall into madness before he claims you both. He hovers at the top of the stairs, watching as your husband comforts you. 

He’s got his arms wrapped around you, trying to keep you quiet and get you to calm down. From a distance, he could almost be the perfect husband. But that look is all too familiar, he’s seen it a hundred times before. It’s only now that he recognizes it for what it is. There is no love in your husband’s gaze, only the fear that you’ll find out his little secret. 

He goes back into the bedroom, swipes the phone off the nightstand, and retreats into the shadows. 

“Don’t,” you slap James’ hands away from you, glaring at him. He purses his lips, huffing out a sharp breath and taking a step back. Anger brews under your skin, warms you up, and makes your jaw ache from how hard you’re clenching down. 

“How can you say I made it up?” You shout, no longer caring how loud you are. Your voice cracks at the end as you take on a shrill pitch. You yank up the leg of your yoga pants, shoving your leg towards him. 

Not only has the skin dipped in the perfect shape of a hand, but it’s also turned into an unnatural shade of green and purple. It’s like no bruise or injury you’ve ever had before. James looks down at the mark like it’s a bug to be squashed or a pile of dog shit he just stepped in. 

He fixes you with a sneer and shoves it away from him. You let out a harsh breath and stumble slightly into the counter. “Would you quit fucking showing me that? It’s freaking me out.”

You throw your hands up in the air, giving him an eat-shit look. “How do you think I feel? It happened to me.”

He shakes his head and turns towards the coffee pot, pouring himself another mug. You can’t believe how dismissive he’s being about this whole thing. You have indisputable proof burned into your flesh, and he’s completely ignoring your worries. 

“We need to get you to the doctor, okay?” He shakes his head, giving you the look of a disapproving parent, rather than the supportive husband he’s supposed to be. He hadn’t even been worried for you last night, just mad that you’d woken him up for nothing. 

“It’s probably a blood clot, not a damn poltergeist.”

“James-” His phone ringing cuts you off, and your eyes narrow in disbelief as he reaches for it. It’s closer to you on the counter so you snatch it up before he can grab it. 

“What are you doing?” He demands, taking on a concerningly low tone. 

“We’re going to talk about this, you’re not getting out of this one, James!” 

He whispers your name in a voice you haven’t heard before. His face is dark, brows set in determination as he slowly extends his hand. “Give me my phone.”

You glance at the Nokia and then back at him. The fear that’s been ever-present since last night turns into something else. Anxiety and suspicion make a wicked and nauseating brew in your stomach. “Why?” You whisper, eyes narrowing on him as he takes a step closer. You stumble a step back, holding the phone out of his reach. 

You feel your hand tremble with its vibrations before it begins to ring again. You look towards it just as James lunges forward. His shoulder nearly barrels into you as he grabs your wrist. His grip is so tight you almost feel the bones creaking together. “James!” You gasp, the phone tumbling from your palm and into his hand. He shoves you back, tucking it in his pocket and glaring at you. 

“Don’t touch my phone,” you open your mouth to argue and he takes a large step forward. His foot slams against the ground and you flinch back from him, eyes wide in surprise. “Do you understand me,” he demands, slowly and his voice low. 

You nod, your jaw gaping as you stare at him. He runs a hand through his hair, refusing to meet your eye now. Dark strands fall onto his forehead and he looks more disheveled than you’ve seen him in a long while. 

He looks at his watch and clenches his eyes shut. He pauses, taking in a deep breath as he straightens his tie and rounds the kitchen island. “What are you doing?” You ask, your voice so quiet you’re surprised he even hears it. 

“Going to work,” he snaps. You can’t look at him, you just keep your eyes glued to the floor as the door slams shut. You hold your breath until you hear the car going down the driveway. Ever so slowly, you peel yourself away from the counter. 

Your hand drifts, without thinking, to the imprints on your wrist. “What the fuck,” you mutter, a stunned sort of silence taking over. You can’t help but just stand there, completely dumbfounded by how quickly a simple argument escalated. 

He’s always had a shorter temper than most, but that was extreme. A door slams upstairs and you scream, leaping forward and whirling towards the noise.  “What the fuck!” You shout again, stumbling towards the knife block behind you. You can hear footsteps running upstairs and swallow around a ball of fear sinking in your throat. 

You almost call out ‘whos there,’ but that’s a little too stupid for you. You’re not planning on being the bimbo who dies first in every horror movie. As much as James likes to tease you for being a little simple sometimes, you are equipped with basic survival skills. 

You look towards the coffee maker, the port where your home phone should be is empty. You rush towards the windows, glancing out the driveway and cursing when you find it empty. You were hoping that James might still be in his car, steaming before he comes back in to apologize. But, no, he’s really gone. 

Another door slams and it feels a little petty. Despite the way your heart races and you’re struggling to catch your breath, you don’t feel like you’re in any immediate danger. The looming presence that hung over you last night is gone. James had dismissed the lightbulb exploding as an old house and bad lighting. 

You know better, despite the claims otherwise, and you sincerely doubt that there’s an actual person upstairs. And whatever it is, was smart enough to steal your phone. You slink towards the end of the stairs, just barely craning your neck so you can see into your bedroom. Except the door isn’t open like you left it. 

Light comes through the crack of the closed door. You take a tentative step up, eyes squinting as you try and get a glimpse under the door. A shadow darts past, like rushing footsteps. You gasp, leaping back and covering your mouth with trembling hands. 

The hair on the back of your neck stands, and the loose hairs from your braids blow across your cheeks, tickling your sensitive skin. Old vents, that’s what James told you. His attempt to explain the inexplicable breeze that seems to be following you everywhere you go. You’re bundled head to toe in fuzzy socks, warm pants, and a too-big sweatshirt. And still, you feel your fingers nearly go numb and you can barely feel your nose anymore. 

That’s not a poor AC system. And those aren’t feet under your door. You’re so focused on simply watching the movements under the door that you completely forget anything else. You’re blind and deaf as you watch whatever is moving about in your room. A loud clank breaks through the silence and you nearly scream. 

Your bones almost jump out of your skin as the ice machine starts going and rattles up the old fridge. You clench your eyes shut, taking in a deep breath and glaring at the white machine. “Fuck me,” you mutter, holding your chest and just barely calming yourself down. 

You’ve only been here a night, you shouldn’t be so fucking terrified. You’re ready to just go out into the backyard and wait the rest of the day for James to come back. If you could drive off, you would. But you’ve only got one working car right now and he’s taken it to work. You move to grab your laptop off the couch when something creaks behind you. 

Old hinges cry out as they’re slowly forced to work. The sound of steps going down the stairs occupies the space behind you. You can’t find the bravery to turn around, too scared to see what might be there. Something ice cold passes through you. It nearly feels like a violation, as though something was rooting through your insides like it belonged there. It couldn’t have lasted more than two seconds but it was more than enough to have you nearly vomiting up your scarce breakfast. 

The moment it’s over you feel yourself calming down. As though an instinctual intuition has been activated, you know the danger’s passed. Whatever it had been trying to accomplish with that little show, it did it. 

You turn back to your room, the lights off and the door open, looking just as you left it. You glance over your shoulder, looking into the kitchen before starting up the stairs. You give a hesitant peek into the room like you expect it to be a wreck. But it looks spotless, the camera is in the same place James left it, still recording. 

You file that away in the back of your mind. Maybe the camera picked up what happened last night, or maybe James is right. You really are just getting too far into your head. A shrill ringing goes off near James nightstand and you frown. Your phone buzzes on his side of the bed, MOM lighting up the square screen. 

You let out a short huff, quickly snatching your phone and answering. Maybe she can talk some sense into you, or, more preferably, come over to keep you company. “Hey mom,” you answer, smiling slightly to yourself. It’s been a little while since you’ve been able to talk to her. James had banned phones after the honeymoon and then you’d gotten caught up in house stuff, jobs, and the aftermath of the wedding ‘incident.’

An older voice than you’d been expecting answers on the other end, saying your name in a confused tone. Your brows furrow and you frown, “Mrs. Barnes?”

“Honey,” she sounds strained, like she really hadn’t been expecting you to answer. James must have taken your phone by accident. It makes sense, they’re both the same model, but you put a little pink charm on your Nokia so you’d stop making this mistake. Yet, when you look to your left, you see your charm lying on your nightstand. When had you taken that off?

“Where’s James?”

“Um,” you’re still a little thrown off by her voice and take a second to answer. “Work, I think he took the wrong phone,” you laugh a little, disconcerted that it’s not your mother’s comforting voice. 

“Must have,” she answers, she sounds like she’s a million miles away, her tone distant. “Well, um, just tell him to call me back.”

“Alright,” you hesitate, concerned by how off she sounds. “Is everything alright?” You know things have been tough for her since her husband passed on. James’ sisters have been helping her adjust, but the wedding had taken him away from his family for a little while. He hasn’t actually shown any signs of wanting to reach out and it makes you feel guilty, like you’re keeping him away from her. 

Mrs. Barnes, a living saint you swear, has been nothing but kind as she welcomes you into her family. This is the first time she’s ever been so distant to you. You act more like her family than James does nowadays. 

“Has, uh,” she coughs, clearing her throat. You can almost hear what sounds like Francesca on the other end, hollering at her. The sound of James’ older sister’s voice makes you smile a little wider. “Has James said anything to you?”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head in confusion, even if she can’t see you. “About what?”

“Oh, crumbs,” she huffs and you have a feeling whatever she was about to say was important, but someone is snatching the phone away before you can hear the rest of it. You’d been so focused on her voice that you hadn’t even heard James come back in. 

He glares down at the phone, face pale and eyes wide like he’s expecting something horrific. When he places it to his ear and hears his mom’s voice, his shoulders slump in relief. You narrow your eyes at him, disoriented by the strange behavior. 

“Mom,” he interrupts her rudely, “I’ll call you later. Okay?” He hangs up before she can answer. He tugs your phone out of his pocket and tosses it next to you on the bed. “Answering my phone now? What are you, my secretary?”

You slip your phone into your back pocket, not looking at him as you get off the bed. “I thought it was mine. I think my charm broke off.” You put some distance between the two of you, glancing down at his phone and then back at him. “Why are you being so weird about it?”

He flinches like you’ve just accused him of something far worse than being overly protective of his phone. “I don’t like you digging around in my phone. That’s a problem now?” You open your mouth to argue, but he just keeps going, cutting you off, “You’re so goddamn paranoid. First the ghost, now this,” he gestures vaguely at you and you scoff, crossing your arms and glaring at him. 

You two are devolving far quicker than he had anticipated. It must have been a fragile relationship, to begin with. James slams the door and you slump down on the bed, you almost look like you want to cry. 

He goes down the stairs, watching through the window as your husband lingers on the front porch. He calls someone, his mom, and starts yelling at her as he gets to his car. Looking away from the window, he sighs. 

He’d been close, if James hadn’t come home he probably could have pushed you over the edge immediately. He doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or happy that his game gets to go on a little longer.

You come back down the stairs, eyes rimmed red and shoulders slumped in defeat. You brush through him, not even noticing the chill he leaves behind in you. You have the camera in your hand and a cord in the other. He grins, excited to finally have you see the truth of what happened last night. 

You plug the camera into your laptop, scrubbing through the footage of last night. He leans over your shoulder and watches as goosebumps rise along your skin. You sigh, tugging a blanket over your shoulders, but he knows that won’t do anything to help you. 

Nothing will unless you leave. But your husband has made it clear that you’re not getting out of here until he has actual proof anything supernatural lurks inside these haunted walls. Right here, in your lap, you have your proof. A phantom wind blows up the sheets of the bed, an unexplainable tug of your leg that drags you halfway down the bed. It’s violent and he almost feels sorry, he really hadn’t meant to hurt you, only scare you. 

His fingers drift over your leg and you jump, whirling around, wide eyes looking right through him. He can’t help but admire the way fear makes them shine. You’re quite pretty when you’re terrified, he couldn’t say the same for the hag that used to live here. 

You’re slow to turn back to the computer, but when you do, there’s a slight curve to your lips that he appreciates. “I fucking knew it,” you whisper, slamming the screen closed and getting to your feet. 

You’re giddy, he can taste the satisfaction overpowering the fear. You round the couch, taking in a deep breath and shaking out your arms. Your face sets in determination and you start working on clearing out the moving boxes. 

He doesn’t feel the urge to mess with you any further. He leaves you in peace, lounging in your armchair and watching you work. He’s got a nice surprise worked up for you tonight, no need to take today’s playtime any further. 

You’re efficient, only occasionally getting distracted as you smile at pictures of your wedding day. You put those up on the mantle, beside some family photos. It’s clear how much you value your familial bonds, even your husbands. You put it front and center in the home, reminding him of how it once looked. 

There’s a stark sense of deja vu as he watches you work, a nauseating feeling of what could have been. He can practically taste the newlywed bliss you’re going through. Even with your husband being a piece of work, you still value him, love him. He’d once known that love, hell, he’d reveled in it. 

But the curtain always has to come down. The magic’s never real. He’s doing you a favor by showing you the truth of it all. His gaze drifts away from you cooking dinner and he looks towards the pictures on the mantle. 

James’ mother reminds him of his own. He always wondered what happened to her, what her life was like after he was gone. Neither of them ever got what they wanted. She died wondering what happened to her only son, and he died without getting to say goodbye. 

He thinks of Bette, and feels that familiar white-hot rush of anger, your scream comes a moment later. He glances towards you, confused, before he follows your eyes and sees that he’s accidentally shattered the frames of the pictures. 

You gasp, sucking in shallow breaths as you stumble into the counter, brows furrowed in terror. He clenches his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath, and tamps down on the anger overwhelming him. 

The door opens and your socked feet go rushing towards it, you nearly slip on the hardwoods, arms spinning wildly as you right yourself. James flinches away from your frantic hands as you grab his jacket and drag him inside. “The fucking pictures,” you stutter out your words and point frantically towards the mantle. 

James grimaces, tugging at your hands and looking towards him. He doesn’t see him, of course he doesn’t. But he does see his little accident. James scoffs, face screwing up in anger, he turns towards you. His face is set like a disappointed parent. “You broke them? Our wedding pictures, seriously. All because of a stupid fight?”

He jerks away from you, storming towards the glass and kicking at it. “You didn’t even clean it up,” he says your name, tone increasing in anger. You stare at him, disbelieving and open-mouthed. 

He sits back on the armchair, thoroughly amused. He hadn’t even had to do anything to turn him against you. Your sweet James has just been waiting for a reason to get mad. “This is fucking petty, even for you.”

“What, James,” you stumble over your words, taking a hesitant step towards him. He thinks you’re pretty when you’re scared, but not like this. He doesn’t appreciate the way you approach your husband like he’s a rabid dog. You shouldn’t be scared of him, not yet at least. He hasn’t even had his fun with him yet. 

“It wasn’t me, I swear-”

“Not this ghost shit again, seriously-”

“I have proof!” You shout, your voice is desperate as you try and make yourself louder than him. You run towards your laptop, and ignore the burning smell coming from the oven. He gets up, drifting towards it and turning it off before either of you can notice. No point in having the house burn down. Where would that leave him?

You plug the camera in, turning the screen towards him. James doesn’t make a move yet, simply glaring at you like you’re a bug to be swatted. “Please,” you beg, pathetic and needy. He huffs, rolling his eyes as he watches you both. It’s all so familiar to him, he feels like he’s watching his unfortunate disaster of a marriage play out through you. 

You scrub through the times, cussing as you pass over the clip of you getting dragged. There’s a frantic look in your eye as you hit play. It almost makes him feel bad for what’s about to happen. 

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” James snaps. 

Your face falls and you move the mouse forward and back, looking like a madwoman as you try to find the right moment. You won’t, he made sure of that. Nothing but static plays when you get to the parts that would prove your innocence. 

James tugs at his tie, shaking his head in disappointment. “Not only did you fuck up all our pictures, you didn’t even have dinner ready.” He shoves past you, heading up the stairs and muttering to himself. He pulls out his phone, lingering on a contact he shouldn’t before pressing call. 

You stay still in the living room, looking at the shattered glass and then the oven. “I made your favorite,” you whisper. You suck in a shaky breath, swallowing hard as you kneel down to try and pick up the remnants of your wedding photos. 

3 AM

He sits on the bed, glancing towards the blinking red light of the camera. There’s a clear wall between you and your husband, even if neither of you wants to acknowledge it. You lay curled up in yourself, like a child afraid to seek comfort. He pities you, truly. 

He remembers the happiness of youth, the rush of being married to the person you believe is the love of your life. He will never forget the pain of realizing the person you’ve given everything to turning into someone you don’t recognize. 

His hand drifts over the swell of your cheek. Your lashes flutter, nose wrinkling at the cold brush of his touch. But you don’t flinch away from him, instead leaning into him and looking almost happy by his touch. 

He looks to your husband, eyes narrowing on his relaxed form. He sees the phone lying near him and his face sets in determination. He’s not going to let you fall into the same trap he did. And he certainly isn’t about to let another soul cramp the already stuffy walls of his home. 

It’s been quiet around the house. Less strange events and more strained dinners between you and your husband. You’ve taken to bringing the camera everywhere with you. But anytime a light bulb explodes or a frame topples over, the video goes static. 

You should have given up the hunt for evidence but you can’t give it up. You just need James to see, you need him to believe you. Or, at the very least, you need some assurance that you’re not going crazy. You’ve begun to consider the possibility. 

The bruise on your leg is gone, the constant chills that rack you are still very much present, but there’s nothing else. Everything that happens can be explained by the age of the house. You’ve only briefly discussed it with James’ sisters. Elizabeth gave you the number of a medium she knows. 

James had gotten angry when he found the business card after her visit. He didn’t like her filling your head with more nonsense and indulging you. You didn’t like how dismissive he was. It’s been a few days since the fight and you still have no desire to reconcile with him. 

It’s becoming easier to simply ignore his presence around the house. You know it’s not healthy. You’ve only just begun the marriage, you don’t need to have communication issues tainting it before it’s even on its legs. 

Still, it’s as though something’s keeping you from him. Every attempt at speaking with him is interrupted, thoughts of apologizing just to placate him are struck from your head quicker than they come. 

You stand up from the kitchen table, placing your pictures to the side. You’ve finally gotten new frames for them all, you only need to put them back up. You have no problems putting up the family pictures. Yet, the moment you make to grab the wedding picture of you and James, you grow inexplicably tired. 

Your eyelids flutter shut and you sway on your feet. Your bones grow heavy like you’ve been working all day. But you’ve only been up a few hours, and you had so much more to do today. You try and fight forward, leaning on the table and reaching for the portrait again. You almost feel like you’re nudged back, moved towards the couch. 

A short nap, you promise yourself. Just long enough to get your energy back. 

He followed him to work. That’s never happened before. He’s never been able to follow someone out of the house. He tried, with Steve, he tried to make every aspect of his life hell. But he couldn’t. 

Yet, with this one, he has no problem following him. Maybe it’s the odd resemblance they have. A haircut and a shave, they could be identical twins. But then again, he hasn’t seen his face in a long while, perhaps he’s misremembering it. 

It’s difficult to maintain this control. Half of him lingers in the house, with you, the other half is here. He’s being drawn closer to James and further from you. He doesn’t know if that’s conducive or an interruption to his plans. 

He only vaguely sees you, in his mind’s eye. He leads you to the couch, lays you down, and keeps you away from the reminders of James. He’s gotten good at keeping you both separated. It was easy to begin with, all he’s doing is showing you the truth of the man you married. If only he could really show you. 

James phone rings and he focuses on him once more. It’s Martha again. He hasn’t figured out the truth of their relationship, he’s sure he already knows it. He’s lived this life once, knows the truth of why a husband would act like this. The late-night calls, the constant misdirection of anger. 

He’s paranoid, terrified you’ll find out the truth. He wants to have his cake and eat it too. The perfect housewife at home, and the mistress who fulfills his every desire. At least, that’s his theory. He still needs to be completely sure. 

He ignores James, focusing once more on his connection to the house. He finds you right where he left you, deep in your sleep and completely oblivious to the world around you. He kneels before you, sweeping some hair off your cheeks and tilting his head as he takes in your restful face. 

You look so peaceful when you’re like this, a slight curl to your lips as you wander through dreamland. He wished he could keep you like this, wished he could completely get rid of James. But without him, you wouldn’t be able to keep the house. You’d leave it, leave him. He can’t have that. He’s been lonely for so long, he needs you, craves you. 

6 PM

“How was work?”

“Fine.”

Chewing fills the cavernous silence of your dining room. Forks scrape across porcelain, shallow breaths as you both dance around the tension that threatens to tie a noose around your marriage. You reach for your wine, hoping for another heady swallow. Just like before, you’re dissuaded from it. 

You grow tired at the thought of drowning your sorrows in the alcohol for another night. You clench your eyes shut and take a deep breath, moving the glass away from you and turning back to the roast you made. 

James’ brows furrow as he watches you. “Everything alright?”

You hum, “Tired.” He scoffs and your face falls flat. He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he cuts more aggressively into the meat. "Something wrong?” You demand, sucking on your teeth as you anticipate his answer. You’re sure it’s going to be the same broken record he’s been playing since the honeymoon. 

“Nothing,” he shrugs, tone dismissive. He pauses, taking a deep breath before laughing sardonically. “It’s just funny.” You hate how he does this, drags out his answers, and forces you to take the bait. 

You’re not playing this game of his tonight. You won’t do it again. You can’t keep going in circles with him, can’t keep indulging him in these childish tantrums. He waits, eyebrows raised and pretty blue eyes boring into yours, demanding attention. 

Those damn eyes. You wish he was just a little uglier, maybe then you wouldn’t have been so blind to how fucking awful he really is. You almost resent his mother and sisters for this. They could have warned you off, told you the horror stories of his past before the wedding. Instead, they’d warned you after it was too late and your entire life was entangled in his. 

“I work all day, come home, want a peaceful meal. What do I get?”

He falls silent again and you let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, James,” you drawl, bored of this already. Your patience for him is practically nonexistent nowadays. You used to be able to endure these conversations with him, or at the very least soothe him. But you’re tired of feeling like a babysitter and not the wife you’re supposed to be. “What do you get? A homecooked meal, a clean house, someone to come home to. Tell me,” you demand, slamming your hand on the table and surprising him. “What the fuck do you get?”

“A nagging fucking wife who does jack shit all day and complains about being tired! I work for us, so you can stay home and live out your little housewife fantasies!”

Your jaw drops and you suck in a sharp breath. You can’t even form words, nearly laughing at the audacity and ridiculousness of what he’s saying. “Oh my god,” you can only scoff, shaking your head and leaning back in your chair. You smile and roll your eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” He stands, leaning on the table and trying to make himself bigger than he is. It only paints him in a more pathetic light. 

You cut him off before he can say anything else, scooping up your plate and storming into the kitchen. “You’re the one who insisted I quit my job. You,” you turn and gesture towards him, a disgusted sneer on your face, “wanted a fucking housewife. I was just the dumbass that listened to you. You have no right to throw that in my face. You wanted this, James!”

“Yeah, well,” for a moment you think he’s speechless. His jaw opens and closes, nothing but air leaving his parted lips. You should know better by now, he’s always got some bullshit to spew. “I didn’t think you’d be so incompetent at this.”

You drop the plate in the sink, leaning on it for support and closing your eyes. You take in deep breaths, trying to cool down the heat racing under your skin. Your blood’s pumping so hard you’re surprised a vein hasn’t burst yet. 

“Fuck this,” you push off the sink, shoving past him and moving towards the front door. 

“What are you doing?” He demands, watching as you grab your coat and your keys. 

“Going for a walk,” you tell him shortly, slamming the door behind you. You just need some time away from him, away from the suffocating shadow that seems to linger behind him all the time now. 

You pull the business card Elizabeth had given you and dial the number. You don’t know if this anger is coming from whatever the hell lives in that house or if this was always coming. But you’re not going to just roll over and let this thing ruin your marriage. 

7 PM

You’re out for an hour. He’s upset the entire time. He wants to drive James’ head into the corner of the counter over and over again until there’s nothing left but unidentifiable mush. It’s the same fight he used to have. It always started over something so stupid, he could never say anything right. 

No matter how many times he thought he finally figured Bette out. Every time he thought he had avoided some trigger for her, a new one formed. It didn’t matter how perfect of a husband he was, he would never be enough because he wasn't him. He wasn’t Steve, the man who could do no wrong in her eyes. 

He stands in the corner and watches as James paces for a while before he finally leaves, taking his keys and his phone. He takes the car and leaves you stranded here at the house. 

He knows that James could fix the car sitting idle in the garage. He could fix the car. It’s just another way of keeping you under control. James gets to decide when and where you get to go out, you don’t get a say. 

You seem relieved, though, when you come back and see James gone. You’re happier without your husband, it’s both good and bad. He needs you to resent James, needs you to hate him. But that could prove tricky for him in the future. 

“Thank you so much,” you’re on the phone, you’ve got something lumpy in your jacket. One hand lays under the buttons of your coat, stroking idly. “Yeah, Thursday sounds great. Thank you, again, for coming on such late notice.”

You hang up, placing your keys and phone in the bowl by the door. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up.” You open your jacket, revealing a bundle of matted, dirty fur underneath. Somewhere in all that mess is the scrunched face of a pissed-off cat. 

You coo to it, stroking its head and ignoring the fact it looks like it wants to rip your hand off. You bring it to the kitchen sink and he watches as you take the next few hours to wash its wounds and properly groom it. 

He never cared much for cats, or any animals, really. He never had the time or the energy to try and take care of something other than Bette. She was practically a full-time job to cater to. But he enjoys how peaceful you look being able to take care of the cat. He enjoys how much sympathy you display, even as the little bastard rips and tears at your pretty skin. 

He looms over your shoulder, stroking his phantom fingers over the cat's wet fur. It’s enough to scare it into submission. Its claws release your skin and it shrinks back into your hold. He grins, backing away and leaving you to it. 

You frown down at the cat, murmuring soothing words to it as you look around the kitchen. Sometimes he thinks you see him, thinks you can truly see through all the walls and witness what’s left of the man he was. He knows it's foolish, a ridiculous hope. 

You’ll never be able to see him. Even if you could, you would only think of him as a tormentor. He was a blight on your home and marriage, why would you ever care about him?

3 AM

You feel eyes on you. Not the unfamiliar eyes you’ve been feeling, you know these. Intimately. You stir from your light sleep, squinting through the dark. Minimal light comes in through the blinds, but it's just enough for you to see the figure standing beside you. 

You gasp, flinching away from James. He just stands over you, glaring down at where you slept. Eyes devoid of anything. “James?” You whisper. Alpine, the cat you snagged from a neighbor’s dumpster, leaps off the bed. 

She hisses at James, skirting around him and running out of the room. Your brows furrow in confusion. You look back to James, muttering his name again. He gasps like he was dragged out of a coma. 

He stumbles on his feet, tripping over them and nearly nosediving into the bed. You instinctively steady him, guiding him onto the bed beside you. “What are you doing?” You hiss at him, holding his face in your hands and looking him over for any explanation of what was just happening. 

You’ve never even heard him talk in his sleep. Let alone, sleep with his eyes wide open and staring at you. It was beyond disturbing. There’s something unfamiliar in his eyes, they’re soft as he looks at you. Soft in a way they haven’t been for a long time. 

His hand comes up to cup yours, the other almost hesitantly running across your cheek. “James?” You ask again, caught off guard by the odd display of affection.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. You’re ninety percent sure you’re still dreaming, he’s never apologized first before. It’s always been you to broker the peace. You’ll sacrifice being right if it means he’ll stop giving you the cold shoulder, he’s never done the same. 

You try to ask him what he’s talking about, but he’s surging forward before you can speak. His lips are chapped, dryer than you’re used to. He doesn’t give you much time to process anything. His hands drift to your waist, dragging you into his lap as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. You’re taken aback by the taste of metal on his tongue. It’s coppery and bitter, not at all like the mint toothpaste you both use. 

He’s not kissing you like you’re used to. He’s not trying to devour you or suffocate you by shoving his tongue as far as it goes down your throat. This is gentle, sweet. It feels like you’re being savored, not claimed. You don’t mind it, in fact, it would be nice if you weren’t so disturbed. 

He’s not acting like himself, he barely looks like he should, and he tastes wrong. This isn’t your husband kissing you. You want to pull away, you try to. But his fingers are digging into your waist and your lips are firmly locked. You can feel the chill of his hands through your pajamas. They’re like icicles, you’re sure there’s going to be a mark from them in the morning. 

“James,” you manage to mutter, pulling away from him just enough to catch your breath. “What’s,” you trail off, tongue growing too heavy to speak. Your words slur together, become one nonsensical jumble stuck in your throat. 

He shakes his head, biting his lip and slowly lowering you back onto the bed. “I’m sorry. I thought this would work.” You narrow your eyes, you have barely enough energy to shake your head in confusion. Your lips part to ask another question. He leans down, pressing one last gentle kiss to you before your eyes roll back and you’re asleep again. 

“I told you I have it handled,” James practically pouts as he sits in your armchair. You used to use it to crochet, it’s got the best view of the backyard and you like to watch the bunnies that live under the porch. But more and more, he stays there. Every second he’s home, he seems to live in that chair. 

Bette had given it to you with the house. You hadn’t really thought anything of it, but with how he’s been acting lately, you can’t help but wonder if its’ connected to whatever secrets live in these walls. Most people would be haunted and their husbands would get worse, you seem to be experiencing the opposite. 

He’s kinder, he’s bringing you flowers and cooking you breakfast. You’re woken up with praise and gentle kisses. Then he’s back to normal by lunchtime. He’s miserable at dinner, only to wake you up in the middle of the night with saccharine apologies. You’re so sick and tired of living in this whirlwind of love and misery. You just want some goddamn answers. 

You need to know the truth of what’s happening to you. Is this just how James is? Is this the house? Is there even anything wrong with the house?

You’re hoping the medium will be able to answer that for you today. Mystic Wanda, the name doesn’t give you much hope but Elizabeth told you she’s one of the best. 

Alpine runs against your legs and James glowers at her. “I told you I wanted her out of here.”

“Tough,” you respond bluntly, eyes trained on the front door. He’d thrown a hissy fit when he saw her the morning after your weird make-out session. You hadn’t bent, though, and you know he’s still upset you’re no longer blindly giving into his whims. 

The doorbell rings and you leap off the couch, rushing towards the door and throwing it open. Wanda’s eyes widen in amusement and she smiles at your eagerness. “Please, come in, and thank you again for coming on such short notice.”

You usher her inside, offering to take her jacket. She passes it to you, eyeing the interior of your home and giving you an appeasing smile. “Well, Elizabeth is a good friend of mine, she told me you were having an emergency and I wanted to help.”

James scoffs from the armchair and she glances over at him with a bemused look. You glare at him over her shoulder. “James, I presume?”

“Oh,” his eyes widen in faux amazement, “did you divine that?”

Her eyebrows raise and you know she’s unimpressed. “I could tell from the attitude. Your sister warned me you were a cynic.”

He mutters a bitter, “Whatever,” under his breath and goes back to ignoring her. 

“I’m sorry about him,” you take her by the elbow, guiding her into the kitchen and away from him. You peer over into the living room, ensuring he can’t hear you. Wanda waits expectantly for you to begin speaking. 

“He’s why I wanted you to come.” You tell her, fiddling idly with your wedding band. “He’s not himself lately.”

“More volatile?” She guesses and you shake your head, laughing bitterly to yourself.

“Less, actually. But he’s unpredictable. I never know when he’s going to be this sweet stranger or the miserable man I’ve grown used to.”

Her brows twitch and a confused smile graces her lips. “Most people aren’t upset when their husband gets better.”

“I know it’s odd,” you admit, sighing and looking down at the countertop. “But, I just need to know I’m not going crazy. I’ve been dragging this around everywhere,” you push your camera towards her. “Every time something happens, the feed cuts out. I’ve been dragged down my bed, harassed, made to think I’m losing my mind.”

You run a rough hand over your face, feeling the aches of this whole experience settle wearily along your bones. “I just need some clarity. That’s all.”

“Well,” she reaches for your hand, squeezing it in hers and giving you a comforting smile. “I can certainly help with that.”

Wanda sits in the armchair, having booted James out of it. He seems a little bit more cognizant as he sits beside you, a little more scared. You keep a wary eye on him while Wanda closes her eyes and “connects” with the house, as she put it. 

She breaks the silence abruptly and it makes you jump. “This chair came with the house?” You nod silently but you have a feeling she already knew the answer. She hums, running her hand along the arm of it. 

“It was his before it was stolen by the man he called friend. He lives in it, watches you from it.” You feel your heart racing, panic steadily rising within you. It’s like a physical caress, the fear trailing down your spine. “He wants something, too many things,” she sighs and shakes her head, frustration playing along her fine features. “It’s hard to discern the truth of it all.”

“But he’s real?” You cut in, imploring her to tell you what you’re desperate to hear.

She gives you a resigned smile, but there’s no happiness in it. “I’m afraid so.” She shouldn’t be so apologetic, this is all you wanted. To know you weren’t crazy, to have James hear it too. But when you look to him for some satisfactory celebration, his face is slack. 

“James?” 

Wanda leaps up from the chair, taking a step towards him. Your husband is gone, any sign of awareness or thought is completely gone. He looks devoid of life, like he’s been a living corpse for weeks. “James?” You call again, voice threatening to break. 

His jaw snaps shut and you jump back, rushing off the couch and stumbling towards Wanda. She grabs you, tugging you behind her, and takes in a deep inhale. “It’s him,” she whispers, eyes wide with fear. “I’ve never encountered one so strong before.”

You glance at her and then back at James. There’s fury playing on his features, and again, those eyes you don’t recognize yet somehow feel familiar. “I think you should leave,” he demands, his voice low. 

It isn’t the normal way he commands you. This is a threat, a complete assurance of power. James stands up in one fluid motion, stalking toward Wanda. She goes stiff before you and you worry she’s going to go slack the same way James did. 

“Now,” he tells her, eyebrows raised with impatience. 

“James, she can help,” you try. His head whips toward yours and you flinch away from the intense look he gives you. 

“We don’t need her help,” he whispers your name and it almost sounds like he’s pleading with you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, you glance between Wanda and James, unsure which to follow. 

Wanda shakes her head as you take a step back from her. James’ shoulders slump with relief. “Don’t do this,” Wanda warns. “I won’t be able to come back here again. He’s growing stronger, you’ll be beyond anyone’s help soon-”

She's cut off as the light bulb above you explodes. You scream, moving instinctively towards your husband. His arms eagerly wrap around you, drawing you into his gentle hold. He runs a hand over your back and you almost miss the quiet apology he mutters into your hair. 

“Leave,” James doesn’t have to tell her again. She practically runs to the door, nearly forgetting her coat as she rushes out. You slump against him, somehow feeling defeated even after getting what you wanted. 

“Doll?” He peers down at you, pulling back slightly to get a better look. “Are you okay?”

You stare into eyes you know don’t belong to your husband and force yourself to nod. You let this stranger hold you close and ignore the sinking weight of guilt. He feels so much better than James ever did and you hate yourself for thinking that. 

Your husband is in there somewhere, being tormented by some malevolent spirit, and you’re letting him do what he wants to you. Playing house with him like everything’s normal. “Come on, let's go outside.”

You can’t do anything except listen to him. In the back of your mind, you think about how odd it is that he’s showing himself now. He usually waits until later in the day. 

How sick is it, you have a schedule for when your husband will be possessed?

He leads you to the back porch, to the rocking chairs that were there when you moved in. but he doesn’t let you sit in one. No, he guides you down onto his lap, keeping you close as you get yourself comfortable. 

James isn’t like this. He doesn’t let you love him like this. Your touch practically repulses him nowadays. But he can’t seem to get enough of you now. Holding onto you like he might not get to again. 

“Wanda said he was growing stronger,” you mutter absentmindly. He goes tense under you, but he doesn’t yell at you or get mad. He just squeezes your hand in his, idly tracing shapes over your palm. 

“I was thinking of planting some rosebushes,” he tells you, completely brushing over what you said. 

“I thought you wanted to rip the garden out and build a pool,” you tell him bitterly. The neighborhood has its own pool. You’ve been begging James to keep the old lady’s flowers in the back but he won’t have it. 

Now, miraculously, he’s giving in to your whims. You don’t know if you should be happy or disgusted. You’re sitting on the lap of something that isn’t your husband anymore. You don’t feel like you can trust your mind anymore. You struggle to differentiate between your dreams and reality. 

He laughs a little, brushing some hair out of your face and smiling at you. It’s not the smile you fell in love with, or the eyes you fell in love with, but you can feel yourself falling. Or, maybe, you’re just desperate for someone to be kind to you. For someone to love you the way a husband should love his wife. 

“I want you to be happy, Doll.” James doesn’t call you Doll.

“Maybe some gardenias too,” you lean back into his chest, letting yourself get more comfortable. 

You feel his smile against your skin, he turns his nose to nuzzle against your cheek, planting a kiss there. “I’ll buy the seeds tomorrow.” You nod absentmindedly, trying to settle the way your stomach flips. 

3 AM

“James!” You scream his name, leaping onto his side of the bed and holding onto him as tight as you can. He shoots up, grabbing you and turning you to face him. 

“What?” He demands, face pale with worry. 

You frown, glaring at him, “You didn’t hear that?” The bedroom door slams closed and you scream again, curling into his hold. 

“Holy shit!” He shouts, he tries to hold onto you but something grabs his leg. The same way you’d been dragged the first night, he’s pulled out of bed. You scream his name, the bedroom door flies open, and watch as he’s dragged into the hall. 

You leap over the bed, feet tangled in the sheets as you lunge towards the door. He’s screaming, primal sounds of nothing but pure terror ripping through the house. You pound on the locked door, tearing at the knob until you think you might rip it off. 

“James! Please!” You sob against the wood, slamming your shoulder into it until it cracks. Pain shoots down to your elbow and you flinch back, “Fuck,” the screams go quiet on the other side of the door and your eyes widen. 

“James!” You screech, your fists pound against the door until you feel the skin crack and blood dribble down your arms. Something cool brushes against your neck, like a breath. “Stop,” you plead, “stop it, give him back.”

The door swings outward, the wrong way, and you wonder how the hinges don’t break. The only light on is the linen closet. The same closest that you know has a scuttlehole. You don’t think, just run towards it. Your bare feet pound against the hardwood, shaking the whole house in your race for the door. 

You burst through, nearly stumbling facefirst into the ladder. You clench your eyes shut, nails digging into your palms as you look up to see the scuttle hole already open and beckoning you forward. 

Blood trails up the ladder and you could almost cry seeing it. You can’t waste time, can’t dawdle. You don’t know what happened to James but you know it’s not good that he’s quiet. You force yourself up the rickety ladder, pulling yourself into the attic and looking around for any signs of life. 

You didn’t realize how much junk the old lady had left behind in the house. But the attic is chock full of her past. Dusty and browned filing boxes litter old antique tables. Wardrobes, trunks of clothes from the fifties. A mannequin with an unfinished dress. There’s an entire life up here, one she seemed to have just willingly left behind. 

You frown down at something that really draws your eye, a box with a scrawled B.B. on the side. The light’s on, but it's dim and only illuminates the box. Still, you try and squint through the dark to find James. There’s no sign of him anywhere, you can’t help but wonder what the trail of blood on the ladder was. 

You lean down and pick up the box. “What’re you doing?”

You scream, your throat going sore from how much you seem to be doing that tonight. James is on the ladder behind you, a dazed look on his face as he waits for your answer. You tilt your head in confusion, trying to calm your heart from the adrenaline rush that was ten minutes earlier. 

These are different eyes. This isn’t him. Your gaze darts back to the box and you pass it to him. “Take that,” you demand. He doesn’t question you, if anything it seems to make him happy. He drops it down the ladder and holds his hand out to help you down. 

You take it, hissing at how cold his hands are. He only gives you another eerie smirk. Once you’re steady and on the ground, you back slowly out into the hallway. “What happened earlier?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. I must have been sleepwalking.”

Your face drops and you scoff, “You were fucking dragged down the hall and I got locked in the bedroom. You weren’t sleepwaking, James.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and flips the lights off. You’re plunged into darkness, a slight whimper ripping its way out of your throat. You’re forced to rely on his guidance as he leads you down the hall. “You’re tired, Doll, we should just go to bed.”

You think back to the box, waiting for you in the closet. There’s no arguing with him, though. You’ll have to deal with it tomorrow morning. You can only pray that you’re not awoken so violently again. 

“Sweetheart,” you mumble tiredly, swatting blindly at the voice. There’s a low chuckle, and then the familiar press of lips against your forehead. “Wake up, I’ve gotta go soon.”

You’re slow to open your eyes, just barely making out James’ blurry shape. “James,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes to try and force them to focus on his form. “What’re you doing?” You asked, words slurring together. 

He places a tray down on the nightstand and the smells of coffee and pancakes break your dazed trance. You sit up straighter in bed, giving him a confused look. Two years of dating, and a few months of marriage, not once has he greeted you with breakfast in bed. 

“James?” you question, he only shakes his head, darting forward to kiss you. Your eyes flutter shut and you find yourself leaning into the touch. It doesn’t take long for it to grow heated, his chilled hands drifting under your shirt and tugging you towards him. 

You’re finding it easier and easier to simply give in to his whims. Your legs spread over his and you melt into his hold like you were made to fit against him. “Shit, Doll,” he huffs against your parted lips, pupils blown wide as he stares up at you. His lips are a pretty pink, swollen, and glistening from your kisses. You almost want to bite them. 

You hold back the urge, leaning back and giving him a small smile. It’s enough to make his whole face light up. “You know how badly I want to stay in bed with you today?” You almost invite him to, but the foggy cloud of an abrupt wake-up finally parts. 

You remember the box from last night, what you need to do today. So, you pull back from him, his arms releasing you reluctantly. It’s so peculiar, how his metal hand is warmer than the flesh one. “Going to work?”

He hums, eyes narrowing in on you suspiciously. You reach for the coffee and take a sip, exactly how you like it. It’s pathetic that your suspicion grows because you know your husband doesn’t know how you take your coffee. 

“I’ll miss you,” you tell him, and it’s the first time you haven’t had to force the words out to appease him. It almost feels genuine this time. He gives you a resigned smile, kissing your cheek and leaning back. 

He pets Alpine, stroking down her smooth white fur and smiling at her too. “I’ll see you both later,” he tells you, a promise. You bite your lip and nod. His footsteps echo down the stairs and you leap off the bed, the abrupt move scaring the life out of Alpine. She growls in discontent and stalks off. The door closes and you run to the window, watching the driveway to make sure he’s gone for sure. 

You race into the hall, throwing the closet door open and dragging the dusty box out. Mildew and mold cling to it, but you don’t have time to be concerned with germs. You need answers. You take it downstairs, toss it on the kitchen table, and forget all about your breakfast upstairs. 

It’s odd, how much cozier the house has become. Sunlight streams through the windows and warms your seats and couches. You no longer feel eyes in the shadows. A creak is just a creak. It’s like your fear has just been snatched from you. 

The thought is enough to unsettle you, but you ignore it for now. You’ll worry about that another day. You toss the lid of the file box inside and what greets you only further irritates you. Piles of unorganized papers and pictures, each of the more faded by time than the other. 

You pluck out the first one you see and nearly gasp. It’s James, but not James. A picture of a WWII soldier, in his uniform and posing in front of an army vehicle. He looks just like your husband, but his eyes crinkle a little more when he smiles, his happiness palpable through the picture. He’s even got a prosthetic arm. 

You flip the picture over, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, is written out in pretty cursive. Directly under it is 1942. You drop the picture, taking a few steps back and shaking your head. “No, no, nope,” you shake your head, simply ignoring the truth that lay in front of you. 

Somewhere out there, there’s an alternative version of your husband who was a WWII veteran and apparently lived in this house. Same fucking name and everything. “Oh, fuck me, this is insane.” You glare at the box, not wanting to believe anything you’re seeing. 

How could your life have devolved into this shitfest, just because you moved into one fucking house? How could one crappy ad in the newspaper have completely turned your life upside down and thrown you into the twilight zone?

You throw yourself into a chair, slumping over the wooden table and taking in grounding breaths. You wanted the truth, you’re going to get it. Even if none of it makes any sense. The next few pictures you grab are all in the same sepia tint. One of him standing in front of the garden, another before a truck, even one in the goddamn armchair currently sitting in your living room. And in each one, he looks as happy as can be. But there’s something nearly artificial in his smile. 

You look at the pictures on your mantle and frown. You can’t exactly judge him. You’ve got the same smile in all your pictures too. Just slightly off, something about it slightly forced for the sake of the person beside you.

You find one of him with a very unhappy-looking woman. She’s pretty, even if she does look a little wicked, and she also looks remarkably like you. What bizzaro world is this? She’s nearly identical to you, but she looks goddamn miserable. A hulking blond man has his arm slung around Bucky, fingers just barely grazing the woman’s shoulder. 

You flip it over and find, Bette, Bucky & Steve at the new house, 1950. Bette, the woman who sold you the house. Who told you what nursing home her kids were sticking her in. You leap up from the table, running to grab your coat and racing out of the house. 

Bucky glances down at James' phone and grins. He pulls the car into the apartment complex and picks up the call, “Hello?”

“Where are you?” The woman on the other end demands sharply. 

Bucky sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and fighting back the spirit surging within him. His left hand twitches without his permission and his eyes narrow in frustration. James was easy enough to subdue last night. He was caught off guard, terrified. 

Now, he’s pissed off and fighting. Bucky doesn’t appreciate the efforts to take control. “I just pulled in. I’ll be up in a minute.” He shuts the phone off and jerks the rearview mirror to face him. The eyes that stare back at him are not his own. 

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” James demands, spitting the words out like he has any sort of power over Bucky. 

Bucky grins, “Wasn’t planning on it.”

James’ face falls and his eyes widen with worry. “What does that mean?” Bucky flips the mirror back in place, glancing up to the third-story apartment where Martha waits for him. He turns the engine off, slowly exits the car, and makes his way up the stairs. 

He’s sure to take his time, enjoying how James grows more and more terrified. It only feeds him, makes him stronger, and grants him more control over him. He’s getting better at controlling him, finally had enough strength to fully take over last night. 

Before, he only had the energy to take over the body for a few hours, at most. But the longer he held influence over James, the further his influence spread. Soon, he could leave the house, without having to use James’ body as an anchor. He’s evolved past anchors and the brick walls that once contained him. He only had one last loose end before he could be with you fully. 

He knocked on the red door, waiting for Martha to answer. It didn’t take long. She threw the door open, face screwed up with rage. “Look who came back. I told you that little bitch of yours wouldn’t be good enough for you.”

Bucky kept the look on his face serene. He tried not to show the rage that raced through him at her grating tone. He wanted to rip her tongue out and choke her with it. He wished he could pluck out her eyeballs and serve them to her on a silver platter. A million different ways came to him as he stepped into her apartment. 

“Hello, Martha.”

“Thanks for seeing me, Bette.”

Bette kept her hands in her lap, picking at the wrinkles of her skin. “It’s grown so thin,” she looked at you, seeing straight through you. “I used to be like you, so pretty, so young.”

Your face screws up in discomfort and you nod dismissively. “You know why I want to talk.”

Bette sighs and clicks her tongue. “Oh, Bucky,” she says his name forlornly, playing the perfect mourning lover. But you know better, she doesn’t mean a damn bit of her grief. 

“Drop it,” you snap, looking around to make sure no nurses are watching. The white sterile walls of the nursing home loom over you. Bette’s eyes snap towards you, the thin film of dementia disappears and she slumps into her chair. 

“Fine. Dammit, what the hell do you want? You already took my house.”

“Yeah, and your damn ghost. I want some fucking answers, Bette.”

She chuckles, the noise bitter and her expression cruel. “You know, you remind me a lot of Bucky. Got that same kicked puppy look to you that makes me want to smack you around.” Despite your best intentions of remaining passive, you feel your heart twinge in sympathy for Bucky. 

Bette’s got the same bitter look in her eye that James used to. You don’t see much of it anymore. Strange how much your life has changed in just over two weeks. “I thought he’d see you and finally move on. He’d finally get his damn revenge on me, I mean you look just like me.”

You can’t help but agree with her. You slip the picture out of your purse and put it on the table before you. “I saw,” you mutter, glancing down at the uncanny resemblance between you both. “I want to know what happened, Bette. I want to know why he’s stuck in my walls, why he’s stuck in my husband,” you add.

Her eyes widen and her jaw gapes. “He’s got your husband?” You nod and you’re caught off guard when she begins to cackle. “God, even dead he’s still the same pathetic, snivelling bastard he used to be.”

You can’t help but get angry, you almost want to defend him. Sure, he’s tormented you, but clearly, he had a reason to be bitter about having to look at your face all the damn time. You’d go crazy too if this was the bitch you were married to. 

“Bette,” you warn, voice low. 

She huffs and snatches the picture. “No harm in telling you, I suppose.” She gives you a wicked grin, “No one will believe you anyway.”

“I met Bucky when I was young, too young. We got married because he was getting shipped off to war. He wanted someone to write letters to, to come home to, and I figured he’d die before I ever saw him again. I could cash in on widow’s benefits. Then the son of a bitch had to go and get honorably discharged for getting his arm blown off.”

Your brows furrow in disgust. You’ve never seen such an evil old woman before. You pray you don’t turn into a wicked old hag like her when you get older. “Steve, his best friend, was discharged around the same time as him. Came to live with us for a while so he could get his life in order.”

Bette glares at you and tosses the picture back to you. You catch it before it slides off the table and she keeps going. “See, some women weren’t as loyal as I was. His lady moved on real fast, left him lonely and looking for a warm place to sleep at night. Bucky, well, he just wasn’t a man. He obeyed me like a little bitch and took every hit I gave him because he thought he deserved it. Steve never did that, always put me in my place. He was a man,” she hisses out the word and you have the sudden urge to slap her. 

“One thing led to another, we were in love and Bucky was in the way. We got rid of him, what else do you want me to say?”

You can’t even figure out where to begin. She’s fucking despicable. Not only did she not love him, he was utterly devoted to her and she fucked his best friend. Killed him to be with him. Despite this overload of information, only one question comes to you. 

“Where did you bury him?”

5 PM

You let out a loud grunt, sweat pouring down your back as you bring the sledgehammer into the brick wall. There’s a loud crack and you pause, taking a step back. A moment later a brick slips out of its place. It doesn’t take much longer for the others to follow. 

There’s a loud crash as it all comes tumbling down, decades of dust and debris float into the air. It drifts down your nose and creeps into your lungs. You drop the sledgehammer to the cement of the basement with a clatter. You kneel over, waving the dust away and trying to cough it out. 

Something rolls against the floor, something hollow that clatters against your shoe. You glance down, stunned into silence as a gaping skull stares back up at you. You stumble away from it, nearly kicking it back, and trip right into the warm chest of your husband. 

Bucky stares down at you, his face blank and devoid of anything you might be able to read. “You talked to Bette?”

You nod mutely, taking a step back from him. You wince as your heel comes down on something that cracks under your weight. You try to look down, to see what bone you’ve just broken, but he stops you. He grabs your chin, tilting your face towards him and forcing you to meet his eyes. “What are you going to do?” He demands, he tries to sound strong, but you can hear the fear that trembles under the cool tone. 

Rest In Peace

Husband, Brother, Friend

James Buchanan Barnes

“It’s a bit morbid isn’t it?” You peer up at him and shake your head. 

“No, he deserves a proper burial.” You place the flowers on top of the fresh grave and stand. You take a few steps back and Bucky pulls you into his chest. “You, I mean. I just feel like your memory deserves its rightful resting place.”

He lets out a heavy sigh and you squeeze his hand. “You think Steve’s in here somewhere?”

You scoff and feel yourself growing angry on his behalf. “He deserves to rot under a bridge somewhere, along with that bitch.”

Bucky laughs pulling back from you and giving you a wide smile. It’s genuine, the first genuine smile you’ve seen on his face in a long time. “Thank you,” he mutters. You shrug, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m your wife, I’m supposed to have your back.” You reach up, pushing a wave back behind his ear. He’s finally let his hair grow out again. He complains it gets in his eyes when he tries to garden, but you love how it looks on him so he keeps it. 

His face lights up, the same way it always does when you say you’re his wife. You interlace your fingers together, pulling him away from his grave and back towards the car. You’re supposed to meet Mrs. Barnes soon, you’re having Thanksgiving dinner at your house tomorrow so the whole family can finally see it. 

Since the discovery of Bucky’s bones and the literal skeleton in the house's closet, you’ve kept family members away from you both for a while. It was a long adjustment period, getting used to the truth and each other. Accepting the fact that James was gone for good wasn’t as hard a pill to swallow as it should have been.  

You have a theory that you both were meant to be with each other, either in the forties or today. Something got messed up in the universe’s timeline and instead, you got James and he got Bette. This paranormal experience must have just been fate’s way of cleaning up what it had ruined so horribly. 

You look up at Bucky, the way his eyes crinkle even when he’s not smiling, and feel something warm spreading through your chest. You don't mind the cold fingers and chilling touch at night when it’s him you’re sharing it with. 

You place the turkey down in front of Bucky and he sends you a blissful smile. You can’t help but lean over the back of his chair and plant a loud kiss on his cheek. Janey gags, tossing a roll at her older brother. “Quit it, would you, I’d like to have an appetite.”

You chuckle, taking your seat beside him. Bucky can’t help but want to cry. This is what he’s wanted for so long. His family back, the woman he loves to love him back. It’s what he begged for. The loss of it all had turned him into this bitter, malevolent spirit. 

As much as he’d like to say he regrets or feels guilt for what he did to Bette, Steve, Martha, and James, he can’t. He tormented Steve until he died of a terror-induced heart attack at fifty. He’d driven poor Bette into the nursing home where her children would let her rot for the rest of her miserable life. Martha won’t be heard from again. 

And James, poor James. He must have had the worst fate of them all. It’s been a while since he’s heard anything from James. He searches for him now, his tiny presence lingering somewhere in the back of his mind. 

Bucky takes your hand, looks at his sisters and mother, and smiles at them. He raises his glass for a toast, slapping at James until he’s forced out of his slumber. Look, he thinks, speaking of all he’s grateful for to you and the other women. They know, he feels James looking through his eyes. 

He sees the way his family smiles at Bucky, and how much happier they look with him. They know, he tells James, they know I’m not you. James pounds futilely against Bucky’s walls. He screams and sobs, begging for you to help him. 

They don’t want you, James. They know that the world is better without you. He lets James linger in his misery, he savors his despair, lets it energize him, and then tosses him back to the abyss. James goes quietly, he gave up fighting a while ago. 

It wouldn’t matter anyway. His brief period of rebellion has fed Bucky enough to keep him subdued for the rest of his life. You squeeze his hand, “I love you,” you whisper, passing him the sweet potatoes. 

He smiles back at you and repeats the same words he’s already said a hundred times to you. This is at it always should have been. Steve, Bette, and James were all stepping stones to get him to you. He wasn’t going to let you go now. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Marvel (Winter Soldier), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

40s bucky headcanons (lwky kinda suggestive)

40s!bucky who begs for you too send spicy polaroids with your mail when he’s away

40s!bucky who obviously sends ones of him back

40s!bucky who in his time in london got ridiculed for being so protective of his letters

40s!bucky who the second steve snatched one away from him and ripped it he yelled

40s!bucky who carefully went through photo surgery with tape

40s!bucky whose mail got lost and opened and then reported

40s!bucky who got called into his base commander’s office for outer personal misconduct

40s!bucky who could care less

I DONT ALLOW MY WORK TO BE TRANSLATED REPOSTED OR PLAGIARIZED WITHOUT CREDIT OR PERMISSION

HE NAKEYYY🤺

Spicy Brownies

18+ 

High Bucky x reader 

Remember Spicy Plants ? Here’s spicy brownies. Welcome to another crack fic. 

Imagine the first time Bucky tries edibles. He knew they would hit differently than smoking but he didn’t think much would happen so he had another. Then another. He was a super solider so he’d be fine. So he had one more. 

He was fine.

He was totally and completely fine. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N Y/N Y/N!!”

“Oh my GOD!”

You and Steve sat in the living room, giving each other panicked looks hearing Bucky yelling from your shared bedroom. You both sprinted to the elevator and ran down the hall, bursting through the door, unsure of what was going on. 

“What is it Buck- oh my god” 

“What the hell…” Steve blinked, slowly backing away while you cocked your head to the side, observing a very naked Bucky looking at the mirror. 

“He nakeyyyy” Bucky whispered, staring at himself in the mirror wide eyed, cupping his own cheeks in utter shock. “Y/n, there’s a naked man in our room” 

Keep reading

I need to be his controversialy young girlfriend 🏌🏻

babydoll ⋆.𐙚 ̊

cw: age gap

He feels like a creep. Plain and simple. Bucky knows that any woman would be considered “younger”, but you just take the cake. He momentarily feels how hot hell is when you delicately push his hair to the side, clipping in into place with pastel beret. The rest of it gathered into a cutesy scrunchie. “Okay, this one is for wrinkles.” You say, clambering onto his lap. His girl isn’t the most graceful.

The bottle makes him grimace, but the feel of your cute butt in his lap makes it tolerable. He has wrinkles older than you—yikes. “It smells.” He grumbles as he feels you rub skincare product into his skin. “It’s supposed to be lilies!” You say lightly patting his cheek. “This is stupid.” He deadpans, he wraps his arms around your middle when you loop your arms around his shoulders. “It’s not stupid, you’ll thank me someday mister.” You chide very seriously, yelping when he smacks your side. It’s not fair, when you pout like that he wants to kiss you senseless. “Don’t call me mister, ‘m not some stranger you little brat.” He grumbles, being particularly gentle as he slides his cool metal arm under your shirt, just over your tummy. “Sorry baby.” You croon, taking the moment to steal a kiss.

His mental crisis is not helped by the pet name. Baby? If anything you’re the baby here, he gives you a look, it makes you laugh. He finds you to be soothing. You’re a modern woman sure, but those little pj’s you have on with your hair all done up in rollers make him remember a simpler time. He’ll deal with the weird glances whenever you two walk down the street together. He’s not embarrassed anymore to pad over and ask you whatever slang word he’s picked up while people watching. Best of all, he’s finally stopped being stubborn about using his reading glasses to read your texts and see all the cute little selfies you send him.

You pat lotion into his skin, and smile at him. He kisses you, scratching you with stubble. It’s a welcomed itch. When you pull away and kiss the tip of his nose he can’t help but squeeze you. You make him want to smother you. It’s the same when you hear a kitten mew or a baby coo. He likes the feeling. He likes you.

a/n: its almost been an entire month LOL anyways… i think dating a woman under the age of 35 would send bucky into crisis mode and make him feel like a total scumbag (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

credit to @aquazero for dividers

Make-Out Point

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Making out with Bucky is always an event to remember.

Warning: Uuh making out? Not really any I think?

Word Count: 810

A/N: Here’s the 2nd request for Miri’s 2k Celebration. Thank you to everyone who has submitted requests. I am working on them as first come first serve style. I hope to get two more out this weekend and work on rest throughout the week. This one came from @moodymcu​ Thank you for the requests sweetheart.

hi! i recently followed you and congrats on 2k! i was wondering if you could do a drabble about the STEAMIEST make out session with bucky or steve would be like?? congrats again! 💗  

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nowhere for you to stay (bucky barnes x reader)

content warnings: angst, allusions to depression (bucky, not reader), sad bucky, mental health, lack of self-care, female reader, this is basically just me venting about the terrible ending that they gave steve (he didn’t deserve this and neither did bucky nor me)  word count: 1.5k a/n: so, i promise, i really am trying to finish my wips, but this came to me today while listening to renegade, also sorry for being m.i.a. for like three weeks but I spent easter with my family and had to recharge lol and then uni started again, so that kinda kicked my ass a little also, i watched thunderbolts* yesterday and it was great!!! (dw, this is spoiler-free)

You knocked on his door – three sharp, distinct sounds – and waited.  For a few seconds you entertained the thought that Bucky wasn’t home. That he was out and about, doing something with his life. Maybe he had picked himself up and gone to the gym, or maybe he had finally deleted the various food delivery apps and instead had gone grocery shopping. But there was a faint whirring, locked behind the old wooden door to his apartment, a sound that belonged to a light turned on. The complex in which Bucky resided was old – not as old as the man himself but certainly bordering on it. Windows creaked when the wind was strong, the lighting flickered, and pipes groaned during the coldest months.   He had moved here after returning from Wakanda and you had helped him set up his living space. You had begged and pleaded with him to rent a place closer to you, or to maybe even move in with you. But he had just shook his head and had looked at you with those heartbroken, empty eyes that seemed a little less blue and a little more grey since Steve was gone. So, you had helped carry the sparse amount of furniture and décor he had up to the fourth-floor apartment, had sorted spice containers of which you were sure that he hadn’t used them yet and had presented Bucky with a plant as a housewarming gift. He had smiled sadly and thanked you and you had known that the plant was not going to make it more than a week. Every day you called, every day he answered – for a limited time. Sometimes, the exchange was as short as thirty seconds, just enough for you to hear that he was still alive and not planning on changing that.  Once a week, on Saturdays, you took the subway to visit him, to stay with him for a few hours. You never managed to convince him to get out of the apartment with you but at least you saw him.  The last week had been different. He hadn’t answered your calls, only sent short messages (“I’m fine – can’t talk right now” or “let me call you back later”) and your heart ached every time the busy signal had echoed from your speaker. Of course, you hoped that it meant that he was actually busy, distracted, doing something.  But the faint buzz of a burning lamp in his apartment told you that he was home. No matter what, Bucky always made sure to turn off all lights and close all windows before he left his place, so he must have been ignoring the knocking.  To his credit, you were a day earlier than usual. It was Friday instead of Saturday, and you hadn’t announced yourself either, so he wasn’t expecting you. The silence, the unanswered calls had given you anxiety induced stomach pains, so you had taken the day off from work and had gotten an Uber to his place.

You knocked again and lightly cleared your throat – a chance for Bucky’s enhanced hearing to place you and for him to open the door. Still, the knob didn’t twist, the many locks he had put on additionally didn’t rattle and you could have sworn that the whirring of the lamp you had heard earlier died down. “Bucky,” you called out, “It’s me. Can you please open the door?” You waited. Seconds that felt like minutes ticked by and your hands got clammy as you shifted on your feet. “Bucky, you gave me a key. But I don’t wanna use it, so, please just let me in. Bu-,” before you could finish his name, you heard a series of noises. A pair of feet shuffling over creaky old floorboards, and what sounded like dishes being set down in the sink. Then you heard a window being ripped open – the frame squeaked terribly – and then the footsteps came closer.  One lock was unlocked, then the second one. A metallic clank sounded and then the doorknob turned.  The door opened with a squeak that made your teeth hurt.  The apartment was dark, and despite the cold breeze that the recently opened window let in, it smelled dusty and faintly like old takeout food.  “Hey.” One thing about Bucky is that he just could not lose his charm. He stood before you, eyebags darker than ever, brown curls unkempt and knotted, and his scruff on his cheeks a little longer than usual and asymmetrical – as if he had laid on one side for too long. 

Despite his appearance, he leaned against the doorframe with a trace of his characteristic smile turning up his mouth corners.  “Hi,” you replied, slightly perplexed.  “I didn’t realise it was already Saturday,” he said after a few seconds of silence and attempted to swipe his hair from his forehead until he realised that it was too unbrushed to run his fingers through it.  He awkwardly dropped his hand but gave you another smile. “It’s not,” you answered and peered past him. Before you could properly glance into his apartment, he moved into your eyeline, a determined look in his eyes.  “Oh. Then what are you doing here?” He asked, shifting again when you tried to steal another glimpse into his living space. You took a few seconds before you replied during which you struggled not to be offended by his question.  “You never called me back,” you explained then, and locked eyes with him. Heat rose on his face as you bluntly called him out and his hands again found their way into his hair, and again, he had to drop them back to his sides as he couldn’t nervously run them through.  “Yeah, no, I meant to, but I… I was busy,” he stammered, blocking your third attempt to look past him.  “Okay,” you murmured slowly, “Can you… would you mind letting me in?” Bucky chewed on his lip for a few seconds, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to find a way to let you down gently. “Uh, now’s not a good time.”

Your heart sank even further as you tried to come up with reasonings with his behaviour. “Are you-,” you began, and stared at your feet instead of meeting his eyes, “Is someone in there with you?” His eyes went round with surprise before he composed himself.  “What? No, no, I’m… I’m alone in here, but it’s just not, uh, a good time, like I said.” A little bit of the tightness in your chest loosened as he genuinely looked shocked at your implication. But you still couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t let you in. “Are you leaving? Like, are you going somewhere?” You inquired then, trying to find a reason that would satisfy you. Bucky stayed quiet before he shook his head.  “No, nothing like that. Listen, doll, I just… I haven’t really prepared for visitors, or anything like that, so it’d be great if… um –,“ before he finished speaking, you could tell that he was having a hard time sending you back home. He knew how long the ride here was and that you usually worked on Fridays. “it’s just not a good time,” he concluded.

There was a faint line, so thin that it was barely visible, that you were threatening to cross right now. A line between what Bucky allowed you to see on the Saturdays when you visited him, and the rest of his life.  “Just let me in,” you whispered. “Let me… help you.” The conflict in his eyes played out like a storm. Vulnerability and stubbornness raged against each other, as he seemingly weighed his options: allowing you in or pushing you away. Both seemed to frighten him as you heard how his metal arm whirred while he clenched and unclenched his fists. “Alright,” he mumbled and slowly stepped back. His apartment was in a terrible state. For someone who had very little furnishings, a tiny amount of clothes and basically no personal belongings it should have been easy to basically produce a clinically clean space. Instead, you saw instant food packaging, empty beer cans and ripped paper shreds sprawled across his couch table. You recognised the paper as an article about Steve – honouring his legacy and paying tribute to his sacrifice. You had read the same one a few days ago and had cried until your head hurt. The sofa cushions were crumbled up and uneven. A thin blanket laid on the floor as if it had fallen off or been pushed off in a hurry. He must have slept there instead of in his bed.  The kitchen door was half closed, and through the gap you saw dishes towering dangerously, a towel haphazardly slung over them in an attempt to hide them. You turned to face Bucky, who refused to meet your eye. Instead, he clenched his jaw so tight that it must have hurt and stared out the opened window. “Bucky,” you whispered.  “Like I said, I didn’t know you were coming.” His tone was defensive and sharp, but his eyes glistened as the shame burned in him. “Bucky, look at me,” you pleaded and took a few steps towards him. “This place is a mess,” he croaked, his voice heavy with unshed tears, “There’s nowhere for you to stay.” “But I’ll stay anyway,” you murmured and rested your hand on his cheek. “I’ll stay and help you.”

Piece of art 💓🦇

unsolved masterlist

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse.

(Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, horror/paranormal elements

Disclaimer: no plot just vibes <3 it's just another banger dynamic that i loved and therefore had to write a garbage fic about. This is, in no way, a literary masterpiece so just be warned.

Here’s my Ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Bucky is gorgeous and he needs to be reminded everyday 💓‼️

More to Love

Summary : Bucky marries you, someone who shows love through food. When his body changes, you show him he’s cared for no matter what.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x wife!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : FLUFF! Hurt/Comfort, Body Image Issues, Insecurity, Established Relationship, Weight Gain, implied sex, cursing, Food as Love Language.

Word count : 2.4k

Note : If you’d like to be on the taglist, message me! It gets lost in the comments sometimes. Enjoy!

Bucky hadn’t meant to gain weight.

It wasn’t like he woke up one day and decided, hey, let’s pack it on.

It crept in, slowly, like moss between cracks, or rust under paint. At first, it was just little things: seconds at dinner, not skipping dessert, an appetiser here and there.

See, when you and Bucky first started dating, it didn’t take long for him to realise that food was your love language. You cooked like it was second nature—every ingredient always added with care. He’d come home from missions or long training days to find you in the kitchen with your sleeves rolled up, humming to some old tune while stirring sauce or kneading dough. And your smile always lit up when you fed him, like watching him eat something you made was its own kind of joy. And Bucky, who’d spent so much of his life surviving, hadn’t known how hungry he was for that kind of care until you started filling his plate and his heart at the same time.

Somewhere between your late-night pastas and Sunday roasts, his shirts started to fit tighter around the middle. The scale ticked up a few numbers. He still trained, but it was different now. He wasn’t on a calorie deficit, and he was doing things for functional and not aesthetic purposes. He focused on Pull-ups, sparring, lifting until his arms couldn’t take any more. He could throw a grown man across the room. Probably you too, and that wasn’t a fantasy you were opposed to.

But even when his body changed, and time went by, your cooking didn’t stop. If anything, after you got married, it grew more intentional. You experimented more— comfort dishes from his childhood, thick stews you imagined his man might've made, and big, carb-heavy meals to help him recover after a mission. You packed him leftovers in little glass containers, sometimes with a note tucked in the lid. You didn’t just feed his body. You fed his memory, his heart, his right to be human again.

Still.

He’d catch his reflection in the bathroom mirror, shirtless, sweaty from a workout, and stare at his stomach. 

He hated that it made him feel weak. Sloppy. 

“Used to be leaner,” he muttered once, toweling off after an especially brutal workout session. 

You rolled your eyes, but with love, and tossed another towel at his chest. “Yeah? Well, I used to think I liked abs, but turns out I like a powerhouse husband who can deadlift a damn car more.”

That earned you a faint smile, but it didn’t erase the dread in his eyes— the one that said you’re lying, or you’re just saying that to make me feel better.

You weren’t.

God, you weren’t.

Because Bucky Barnes built like a brick shithouse? Bucky Barnes with thick arms and wide shoulders and thighs like tree trunks and a stomach that was less abs and more functional muscle? He was the kind of man you could climb like a jungle gym and bury your face against to feel safe. That strength wasn’t just aesthetic— it was real. 

And every meal you cooked was another way of telling him so. Every tray of roasted veggies, every slow-cooked braise or pan of cinnamon rolls was a reminder: You’re still cared for. You’re still mine.

To be fair, he’d never been satisfied with his body, not really. Not when it was used as a weapon. Not when it was hyper-lean, a machine starving for control. And not now, when he felt like losing the only grip he’d ever had on himself.

Then came the movie night.

You were watching some dumb action flick, all glossy lighting and guys with chiseled jaws and ten-pack abs. The kind of thing that didn’t usually bother you. 

C’mon, watching a superhero movie while being married to one? It was kind of surreal, kind of stupid. 

You’d whipped up a bowl of nachos earlier, layered with roasted veggies, black beans, just enough cheese to feel indulgent, but still a net benefit for your body, the way Bucky liked. He’d been halfway through the bowl, one hand resting on your thigh, when he suddenly stopped eating.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was full. Maybe the movie was just boring. But then you felt the way he shifted like his body was trying to shrink.

You turned your head to see him.

His eyes flicked to the screen. Then to the bowl. Then to his stomach. And then away.

You paused the movie.

“Buck?” you asked gently.

He didn’t look at you. “I’m fine.” He said it too quickly.

You set the nachos aside and turned toward him. “What’s going on?”

He hesitated.

“Look at those guys,” he said, motioning toward the frozen screen. “All shredded. And I’m just—” He trailed off, letting the bitterness finish the sentence for him.

Your heart broke.

You reached over and rested your hand on his chest, right where his heart beat under your palm.

You frowned in that goddammit I love you, why don’t you see what I see? kind of way.

You didn’t say anything right away, but moved closer, settled into his lap, and rested your forehead to his. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, voice soft as a feather, “you could have abs again tomorrow and I wouldn’t love you more than I do right now.”

He swallowed hard. 

“You say that now,” he insisted. “But maybe one day you’ll wake up and realise you’re married to some washed-up vet with a gut and a metal arm.”

You cupped his face firmly and made him look at you.

“Hey,” you scolded playfully, “Don’t you dare talk about my husband like that.”

A ghost of a laugh bubbled out of him. 

“You carry people out of burning buildings, Bucky. You wrestle Walker for fun and win more than half the time.” That earned you another chuckle. “You’ve got a body that’s survived hell and back. And you still use it to hold me like I’m the most fragile thing in the world.”

He looked like he didn’t know whether to cry or pull you into his arms and never let go. So you did it for him— you held him close, kissed the curve of his neck where tension still pulled on his muscles.

“You are so hot, Bucky Barnes,” you whispered. “So fucking hot. Built like a damn tank. Fuckin’ making me feel like the luckiest woman alive.”

He buried his face in your shoulder then, arms wrapping tight around you, so you didn’t move for a while.

He held onto you like you were tethering him to the Earth. His arms were so big, so safe and real. 

Eventually, his rapid breathing slowed. Then, slowly so as not to startle him, you leaned back just enough to look at him. His eyes were pink, glassy, and still a little distant.

“C’mere,” you whispered, taking his hand.

Bucky didn’t ask where you were going. He just followed you, quiet and trusting, fingers interlaced with yours. You led him into the bedroom, and he paused near the mirror at the side of your shared bed.

“I don’t—”

“I know,” you said. “But I want to show you something.”

You stood behind him at first, wrapping your arms around his thick waist, your cheek resting between his shoulder blades. He tensed up at his own reflection. You could feel it in the way his shoulders were bracing for impact.

But instead of asking him to look, you slowly stepped around him, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled him gently toward you.

He didn’t resist.

You kissed the underside of his forearm first, the one made of flesh. Then his metal hand. You worked your way up, past scars and veins and muscle, until he was standing between your knees, and you lifted up his shirt and lowered his sweatpants just a bit, until you were kissing the stretch of skin just above his waistband.

Then, higher.

His stomach rose and fell under your lips.

You kissed the curve of it. One, then another. A third, right by his belly button. Your hands held his hips like he was loved. 

“You think this makes you less?” you said in disbelief, your breath warm against him. “Because all I see is more. More to hold. More to love. More of you.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched at his sides. He was stock-still, as if when he moved, he might fall apart. You looked up at him and saw the tears gathering again.

“Every inch of you is mine to love,” you whispered, “and you don’t get to tell me which ones I can’t.”

A choked sound made it last his lips. 

He dropped to his knees in front of you and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face against your chest like he was starved for touch.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled, voice breaking at the seams .

You kissed the top of his head.

“Tough,” you whispered into his hair. “You’re stuck with me. And so is that stomach. And that chest. And fuck— those thighs.”

He huffed a laugh against your skin. “You like the thighs, huh?”

“Obsessed.” You nuzzled into his hair. “Do you even know what it does to me, watching you exist in this body like it was built for loving me?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His cheeks were pink, and for the first time that night, you saw something wonder bloom behind the disappointment in his eyes.

You leaned in again, your lips brushing over his—soft first. It deepened the moment he kissed you back. It wasn’t desperate, not yet. 

Just… vulnerable. 

It was as if everything unsaid between you was being poured into it, every little bit of doubt and love and hunger bleeding through.

His hands found your hips, fingers flexing like he couldn’t believe you were real. You felt him, too—not just the muscle, but the man who wanted, who needed to be seen, to be held, to be devoured.

“You drive me insane,” you whispered between kisses, your hands running up under his shirt, palming heat and muscle and that slight softness you loved more than you could say. 

He groaned low in his throat, and you felt it reverberate all the way down. 

You tugged his shirt up and over his head. You bit your lip as he fixed his posture, solid and built like sin.

God, you couldn't get enough of him. He had thighs thick enough to crush, arms big enough to cage you in. You ran your palms down his chest, over the swell of his sides, and kissed just above his waistband again.

“I want all of this,” you whispered. “Want to feel it. Fuckin’ climb it, baby.”

That did it.

He leaned forward before picking you up like you weighed nothing. You let out a gasp as he plopped you on the bed. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, kisses turning rougher and hungrier as his hands roamed  with that same desperate worship you gave him.

And when his thigh slid between yours, thick and commanding, you nearly whimpered.

“Bucky—” your voice broke on his name.

He pulled back just enough to growl, “You love this?” His thigh pressed harder, “Love how big and strong I am for you?”

You could barely think, could only nod, fingers tangled in his hair, body arching to meet his.

“Say it.”

“I love it,” you moaned. “I love the way you take up space. I want you to break me in half.”

His blue eyes darkened, his grip tightening just slightly. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Then he kissed you again, and there was no more sound except for bodies moving like they were made to fit, made to ruin each other sweetly.

And when he finally, finally settled over you like the living embodiment of every gentle and savage thing you even loved—you whispered against his ear, “Don’t hold back.”

He didn’t.

—

You woke up to sunlight cutting through the curtains, the kind of light that felt too ethereal to feel real.

Bucky was already up.

He was standing, shirtless, hair still sleep-mussed, his sleep trousers hanging low on his hips, metal arm catching a glint of light as he rubbed at the back of his neck. You watched him from the bed for a minute.

He was staring at the mirror.

And not with that same bitter expression he usually did. This time… it was different. His brow was still furrowed, sure, but he looked… thoughtful. He looked like he was seeing something new.

Or maybe just seeing it the way you had all along.

There were faint bruises along his hips—your marks. Scratches across his back, red and already rapidly healing thanks to the serum, that they would be gone before the day. His skin was still flushed in places, the way it always got after you touched him like you meant it, like every inch of him was holy ground. 

You let the silence steep, just long enough to not startle him. “Staring at yourself like you’re in love, Barnes,” you finally mumbled sleepily from the pillows.

Bucky turned, but not ashamed. His eyes met yours across the room, and god—there it was. 

A smile.

“Maybe,” he said. His eyes dropped to his stomach, his chest, his body— painted in proof of your love last night. Then he looked at you, still tangled in the sheets, bare-legged, cheek creased from the pillow, looking at him like he was the answer to a prayer you hadn’t even known you wanted.

He shrugged, but it wasn’t dismissive. More like he didn’t know how to put it into words yet.

You sat up and let the sheet fall a little. His eyes flicked down and lingered, mouth parting, even after all this time.

“You didn’t seem to mind this body last night,” he said, quieter and teasing.

You gave him a look—are you serious?—then got up and walked across the room. You stood in front of him and slid your hands up the planes of his torso, over his stomach, then around to his back.

“Bucky,” you said, lips brushing his collarbone, “I wrote scripture out of this body last night.”

He laughed an open, sleepy-morning laugh, like you’d summoned it right out of his ribs. He ducked his head into your neck and held you for a second, arms around your waist.

When he pulled back, you kissed him once, then you glanced toward the mirror.

“Go ahead,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over his stomach. “Smile at yourself again.”

He did.

And he didn’t look away.

-end.

Extra Notes : This was really special to write, especially with so many fics like this going around! I used to have an unhealthy obsession with working out purely for aesthetics, but a few years ago, after moving out of my home country, I started reconnecting with my culture’s food. Cooking and eating became a way to feel close to home, so my body changed! I also shifted toward weight training and functional exercise, and while I’m definitely more muscular than lean now, it took me a while to realise this version of me is so much healthier than when I was stuck in an obsessive calorie deficit. Remember, bodies change, and I find our inherent ability to be look so different and still be worthy of love wonderful!

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003 @maryssong23

@yesshewrites1 @thewiselionessss @sangsterizada @jaderabbitt

@hopeofwinter @nevereclipse @tellybearryyyy

Have I read this like a thousand times? YES. Is it still the best story I've ever laid my eyes on? DEFINENTLY.

Spring Chicken

He's not the Winter Soldier anymore... but he's no spring chicken, either. Happy birthday, Buck 😘

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (hands au)

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Minors DNI. Oral sex (m receiving), orgasm delay/edging, ruined orgasm, banter, lingerie, PiV. Bucky tries soooo hard not to cum lol. They're in love, your honor 💗

Word Count: 1.7k

@buckybarnesevents Bucky's Birthday Bash 2023

my masterlist

northbound & reaching

Brooklyn Dodgers. Boston Bees. Chicago Cubs. Detroit… fuck. The Detroit whats? Bucky squeezed his eyes closed and tried to think. 

He had to make this last.

Detroit Tigers. Damn it. He shouldn’t have had to think so long about that one. Should’ve been able to remember it. Oh, god. Keep going, keep going. What next? 

There were the Phillies, in Philadelphia, of course. Stupid name. And then the Pirat— 

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips jolting up on their own. “Baby, baby, slow down, I can’t—”

From the floor between his legs, you looked up at him and smiled. Well, it would’ve been a smile— he could see the crinkles by your eyes, knew what those meant— but you couldn’t exactly smile with his cock in your mouth.

Bucky’s spread thighs trembled, the tide inside him rising as you pulled back once more with hollowed cheeks. Grabbing fistfulls of the comforter with both hands as an anchor, the plates of his left arm shifted and whirred, betraying just how hard he was working to hold back. He didn’t think he could. He wasn’t gonna make it. 

Maybe it would be okay; you probably wouldn’t mind if he came now. Okay. Okay. Bucky took a deep breath, but just before he gave in and let go, you were gone— your wicked mouth replaced by your hand, squeezing tightly at the base of his cock.

Bucky groaned. “God damn it.” His dick flexed helplessly in your grip as you kept his orgasm at bay, and only the slightest, weakest dribble of cum flowed down his length and over your hand.

It was embarrassing; you hadn’t even been sucking on him for very long, and here was, ready to blow. Was blowing. Did this count? He didn’t think so— if anything, it only left him even more frustrated and horny. 

To tell the truth, he’d been close to the edge ever since you stepped out of the bathroom wearing… whatever you were wearing. He’d never seen anything like it; strappy, with sheer black lace that somehow covered you while still letting him see everything, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on it. It would be so easy for him to rip right through the flimsy fabric— but no, he couldn’t do that. You hated when he accidentally tore your clothes, so he’d never do it on purpose. 

But god, he wanted to.

It had taken him a moment to pick up his jaw from the floor when you approached him, and you used that time to your advantage— his brain was still struggling to compute when you pushed him down onto the bed and dropped to your knees between his legs.

Bucky’s left arm whirred as he leaned his weight back onto his hands. His cock jumped again, and he exhaled slowly— had to stop thinking about it. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing.

No, that tiny bit of release hadn’t done anything to dampen the desperation he felt in his gut. Baseball. He was supposed to think about baseball. 

“Buck,” you said softly, your voice lifting at the end. A question. He squinted one eye open, keeping his gaze focused squarely on your nose. Not on your chest, and definitely not on your peaked nipples that stood out under the delicate design. Fuck. Your mouth was still dangerously close to his cock, your breath hot against his spit-slick skin. “Do you want to come?” you asked.

Jesus Christ. Didn’t matter if he wanted to or not— he was going to if you kept this up. “I… I mean…” He shuddered, goosebumps blooming on his skin.

“I thought you wanted to wait,” you murmured, dragging your lips along one side of his length. The vibrations of your words rumbled through his dick and straight up his spine. “If you wanna come, you can.”

“I don’t…” Deep breaths. Deep breaths. “I don’t want it to be over.” He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling— safer that way. Maybe.

“Baby, it’s your birthday,” you simpered, mischief in your voice. Bucky gulped. “I’m not going to stop after you only come once.”

“Can’t say that,” he whined, his hips jerking up reflexively.

“Can’t say what?” you asked coyly. “That it’s your birthday?” You let go of his cock and sat back on your haunches. He wished you hadn’t— the pressure had been helping— “Sure, you’re no spring chicken anymore, but there’s no reason to be embar—”

“You know what I meant.”

“—rassed. Look.” You glanced pointedly at his cock, and the slick patch it had leaked against his thigh. It twitched hopefully at the attention. “Most impressive hundred-year-old dick I’ve ever seen. I—”

Bucky sighed, opening his eyes only to narrow them at you. “Exactly how many hundred-year-old dicks have you seen?”

“Enough,” you said with a shrug, then rose to your feet. “Enough to know yours is my favorite.” With a hand on his bare chest, you guided Bucky back to lie flat on the middle of the bed, then climbed up to straddle him. You settled down flat on top of him, almost like a hug… except your tongue teased his lips until they opened for you, and there was that lace, all that goddamn lace. It felt strange against his skin, different, and maybe he would’ve liked it if he didn’t resent it so much for separating you from him.

“Gonna tell Steve you said that,” he mumbled against your mouth.

With a playful gasp, you pulled away from him. “You would never,” you said, but when he met your eyes, your expression softened. You lifted a hand to brush his hair off his forehead, tucking a longer piece behind his ear. 

So tender. So gentle. 

Bucky pulled his lower lip between his teeth, struck with an entirely different, yet equally overwhelming, feeling. “I love you,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you. The words were never enough, but they were all he had.

You knew that, of course— and the smile you gave him in return was so sweet that it made his heart ache. But before he could think of something smart to say, one corner of your lips lifted slyly. 

Oh, no.

“Don’t go soft on me now, Barnes,” you said, and he jolted when your fingers wrapped around his cock again. “Oh, good,” you smirked. “You’re not.” 

You sat up straight, showing off the expanse of the— bodysuit? That sounded like the right word. Bucky couldn’t help but reach for you with both hands, thumbing over your nipples before giving in to temptation and pawing greedily at your breasts. 

Fuck baseball. No more distractions; Bucky needed to burn this into his memory, keep this image of you safe there forever. Confident and beautiful and better than he ever dared to dream, you rose up on your knees and lined him up. You’d have to pull the fabric to the side, he guessed. Would be easier for him to just rip it off— then he’d be able to get your tits in his mouth, too. But no. He couldn’t. Almost idly, he pinched the lace-covered peaks between his fingers, and— oh.

You swept his cockhead through your arousal— and he could feel it, because there wasn’t anything covering you— even though you hadn’t moved the fabric— what? 

You lowered yourself onto his cock, wiggling your hips a bit as you leaned back and took all of him in one slow motion. From this angle he had an unimpeded view of how he disappeared inside you, fitting perfectly into the cut-out section in the center of the gusset. 

“Oh, god,” he groaned again, rubbing his face with one hand. 

He wasn’t gonna last, and you knew it. You giggled when his breath stuttered, clenched around him when he grabbed your hips roughly. His fingertips dug into your skin, but he hesitated. 

“C’mon, baby,” you encouraged softly. “Let go. Fill me up.” 

Bucky groaned, a mix of exasperation and pleasure, and cursed under his breath. “Fine,” he said. “Fine.” His hands on your hips weren’t enough; he planted his feet flat on the bed. “Fucking take it, then.” 

After holding back for so long, the pace Bucky set was unforgiving. Between his sharp thrusts up into you and the way he moved your hips to meet them, he chased his high with no reservations. It didn’t take him long at all to find himself on the precipice once again; this time, he jumped over headfirst. His face scrunched up with pleasure, his muscles began to shake, and he couldn’t muffle his moan as he spilled inside you.

Bucky didn’t know exactly how much time had passed, but he was still catching his breath when you started to move again. Just a slow circle of your hips at first, then a subtle grind that would’ve been barely noticeable if he wasn’t so oversensitive at the moment. He sucked in a shallow breath and opened his eyes. 

“No time to waste,” you said. “We’re behind schedule.” 

He had to blink a few times before he could actually see you. “Hmm?”

“One orgasm for every year, right? Tradition, or something.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “Dunno where you heard that one,” he said, slurring slightly. “’S impossible.” His words didn’t seem to discourage you in the slightest; if anything, you began moving a bit quicker. “You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned.

“Only one way to find out.”

He couldn’t even pretend to scowl.

“Besides,” you continued, “you haven’t unwrapped your gift yet.” 

Maybe Bucky’s brain was still buzzing with post-orgasm static, but he couldn’t remember seeing any presents in the room. His brows furrowed, but you looked exceptionally pleased with yourself when you took both of his hands in your own and led them to your chest. You used his hands to pull at the neckline of your bodysuit— the elastic stretched a bit under the slight tension, then stopped. 

You didn’t speak, but Bucky heard you loud and clear. With a crooked grin and a sharp snap of his hips, he tore the lingerie to shreds.

He didn’t know how many rounds this old body could go before it tapped out, but he figured his birthday was as good a time as any to find out.

Your wish is my command

Reader x tfatws Bucky Barnes

Summary: On Bucky and Y/N's anniversary, Bucky is needy for his mommy. Y/N helps him. ;) (this summary sucks, I know)

WARNINGS: 18+ NSFW MDNI SMUT, softdom!reader, subby!bucky, pet names (baby, doll, bubba etc.), slight mommy kink, oral m recieveing, p in v sex. I also thought this was going to be short but it turned out to be a whole slowburn.

You woke up to the feeling of Bucky's lips all over your face, leaving soft kisses everywhere. You started smiling ear-to-ear when he kissed your neck. What a way to start the day.

-Happy anniversary baby. -Bucky murmured into your neck and stayed there. His voice was still raspy from sleeping.

-Happy anniversary to you too, Buck, I can't believe it's been a year already. -You said as you played with his short brunette locks.

You started smiling even more if that's possible, when you remembered last night's events. Bucky planned a little date on the boat that Sam, him and you renovated. You cried on the spot. And no, that didn't finish there. Absolutely. Not. He made your favourite food, bought your favourite flowers. For the gift, he got you both 2 matching pairs of rings and you know he doesn't wear much jewelery but when you told him that he should wear more rings, he obeyed. He trusts you so damn much, he'd risk his life for you. The biggest gift of all, was when he reached behind his neck.

-I've wanted to give these to you for a while now. -He said as he unclasped his dogtags and handed them to you.

-James, I can't, -you said between soft sobs. -I..I can't baby this is..you need these, I can't just grab them from you. -You started babbling and sobbing even more but your emotional moment was interrupted by the feeling of Bucky's lips on yours.

-I don't fucking need them anymore..you've helped me heal, and make me 'James' again and I'm really thankful for that, -he got the tags out of the loose grip of your hands and put them on you. -They look way better on you. -You continued sobbing. -Hey, hey Y/N. -He cradled your head to his chest. -It's okay, God I love you so much. Shhh..-He grabbed the backs of your thighs and lifted you up so he could see your face properly.

-I love you even more.. -You said kissing him.

-I don't think that's possible.

-Oh but it is..

-Let me show you how much I love you.....

Y/N! You with me?

Wha- oh.. Yeah, umm what were you talking about? -Well, this is embarrasing, you thought.

-I was just telling you that since Sam and I are still 'undercover' or some shit, we can't really go out this evening. I'm so sorry. -He said and looked away from you, ashamed that you can't go out like a normal couple.

-Baby, it's okay, yesterday was enough. Also you're doing your job so I have no right to be upset, okay? -You assured him. -Now let's get up, I have something in mind-He whined at that, buried his face into your chest and tightened his grip on your waist.

-Nooo, just 2 more minitues. Please. -He murmured.

-'Kay baby boy. -You agreed. For those two minitues you were deep in thought, remembering yesterday night, the way he touched you, your core clenching around nothing...

-Time to get up. -You said, Bucky whimpered again. You lifted his face and looked at him sternly.

-Okay, okay, I'll get up. -He huffed out and stood up. You made grabby hands at him to help you up, which he gladly did. You waddled out to the bathroom with his hand in yours. He started washing his face and you admired his back muscles and biceps flexing. God you loved him so much.

-What's going on in that pretty, little head of yours, huh? -He asked.

-Nothin'.. -He looked at you seriously. -..just how much I wanna fuck you right now. -He moved closer to you, lifting your head to look at him. -But we have to get ready, c'mon. -You teased him like this really often, but he still didn't get used to it totally. You made him beg. You looked at him in the mirror and chuckled, seeing the pouty face he was giving you. You just smirked and shook your head.

You started doing your makeup, but was too distracted when he started leaving love bites on your neck.

-Behave, I have things to do. -You said under your breath as a groan left your lips when Bucky bit your neck harshly.

-But mommy...I need you..-he whispered in your ear, sending shiwers down your spine. -Please..- okay that's it, you thought. You lifted his face from your neck and smashed your lips into his and pulled back after mere seconds, fiddling with the tags on your neck.

-Y'know...-you started.. -you are naughty and don't listen to me so..I don't think you deserve it. -you said with a huge grin on your face as Bucky let a high pitched whine escape his lips.

-But, mommy..-He murmured as he kneeled down in front of you. -Please, please, please. -You chuckled at his neediness.

-Hold on, baby, hold on. Mommy's gotta brush her hair. -You said and leaned over his kneeling form to reach for your brush. You brushed through your h/c locks and grabbed his face in your palms.

-Are you going to behave for mommy? -he nodded hastily, kissing your tummy. -Use your words hun. -you teased.

-I'll be good mommy I swear, please please please! -he whined.

-Please what? Tell me. -you lived for the change in his expressions, going from pouty and whiny to being a full on tease with a smirk on his stubbled face.

-I want you to do something with me, please, it tingles.. -he murmured the last part so you asked him: -What tingles? -He just looked down, and when you saw what he was looking at, you almost moaned. He was grabbing himself through his pajama pants.

-Oh you greedy little boy..Let's see what we can do to help those so called tingles go away. -He looked at you with puppy eyes as he nodded slowly.

-Stand up for me, yeah good boy. -He didn't think it was possible to become even harder, but he eventually did at your praise, he loved being your good boy. -What should we do, hmm? -You slipped his pants down to his ankles and he kicked them off.

-Oh my, you really are stiff. -You said as you held him in your hand. He groaned loudly when you tugged at his cock a little. -You like when mommy does that huh? How about this? -You asked as you spit in your hand and started stroking him.

-Fuck yeah..S'good momma. -He moaned. -So so good. Please don't stop.. -He grabbed your head and tried to guide your head down his lenght.

-Nu-uh, mommy's in control right? -You asked as you slowed the ministrations of your hand. He just nodded with a pout. You slapped his thigh and asked again:

-Right?

-Yes, mommy. -He whined and bit slightly on his fist.

-That's my good boy. -And with that you took all of him down your throat. He was not ready for that, even if he was begging for it. He didn't think it was possible to feel more pleasure, but that thought flew out the window when you started rubbing his balls.

-Oh, y-yes, mommy! -He whined. You moved your mouth to suck on his tip only for a mere fraction of seconds and then took him down all at once, his tip kissing your throat.

-I'm gonna come, can I come mommy? -Poor baby was so spent, his voice cracked mid-sentence as tears fell down his cheeks.

-Mhmm..-You hummed in response, as soon as Bucky heard that, he realesed in the confines of your mouth, groaning and whining as pure bliss consumed him. You looked up at him through your lashes as you swallowed, he groaned at the sight. When you made sure you milked every drop from him, you released his cock from your mouth and stood up.

-Did it feel good hun? -You asked as you cupped his face in your hands.

-Yes mommy. -You kissed him so he could taste himself. He moaned into your mouth and grabbed the backs of your thighs. You could feel him getting hard again as you jumped and locked your leg around his narrow waist. You could feel a slight change in his behaviour, but you went with it. He carefully dropped you down on your bed and crawled on top of you while leaving kisses on your body every now an then. When he came face-to-face with you, he kissed you passionately while dipping his hand in the thin material of your underwear.

-Mommy enjoyed sucking me off a litlle too much don't you think? -He asked as he teased your folds with his now slick fingers.

-You don' even need any prepping do you?

-Just fuck me baby. -You moaned as he pulled your panties down. He also undid his your shirt hastily to get a look at your breasts.

-Perfect boobs mommy, can I suck 'em while I make love to you? Please? -He asked and you whined an almost unhearable 'yes' and with that he entered you fully with one thrust. You were still sore from yesterday so tears welled in your eyes quickly. Bucky noticed and slowed the movements of his hips immediately.

-You okay princess? -He asked, worrying about you.

-Y-yes, hurts a bit, don't stop. -You whimpered.

-Are you sure, I don't want to hurt you. -He slowed down completely.

-Oh for fucks sake James! -You shouted and before he could even register what you were doing, you held his waist tightly with your legs, and flipped you both over and started riding him with such power it knocked the air out of his lungs.

-Damn baby, fuck..

-Told ya not to stop, this is what you get. -You said and brought his hands up above his head and held him down. You grinded on him in figure eights slowly to tease him, knowing that he couldn't guide you since his hands were trapped in yours. After a while you got tired of his constant begging so you started mercilessly riding him.

-God, yes baby, filling me up so good. -You both moaned and it was borderline pornographic, you loved it. He leaned forward and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, licking it sloppily when his mouth opened to groan.

-I'm so close Buck, so good for mommy, aren't you. -You asked moaning at the sight of him, looking up at you through his lashes and nibbling on your nipple. He nodded quickly and whined a 'yeah' around your breast.

-Come with me, c'mon baby, I can feel you throbbing, let go.. -You said, grunting as the wave of pleasure and euphoria hit you. Seconds later you felt him coming too.

-Such a good boy for me. -You said as you realesed his hands from your grip so you could lace your fingers together. You made sure you rode your highs out and you slowed your hips, until you stilled fully. When you released Bucky's hands they were instantly on you, as he pulled you close to his body. He whined when you tried to wiggle out of his grip.

-I'm just going to the bathroom baby. We gotta clean up with something. -He whined again.

-James. -You scolded lifting his face to look at you. He whined but let go of your torso.

-Fuck..-you hissed as you got off him. You waddled out to the bathroom for a wet rag so you could clean up. When you were done you entered the bedroom to see Bucky in the same position as before but his eyes were open. You grinned at him as he made grabby hands at you. You sat down beside him and started cleaning his thighs first but when you got to his cock he hissed and whimpered.

-I know, I know.. -You cooed, pushing some of his hair that was stuck to his forehead out of his face. -You're sensitive, I know bubba.. -You soothed, voice soft. You threw the rag in the laundry and went back to him.

-I love you s'much mommy. -He mumbled to you when you moved laid down next to him on the bed.

-I love you too bubba. Ready for some cuddles? -You asked him in a voice so soft and happy, he thought he'd melt on the spot. He nodded and mumbled a small 'yes mommy' and that's all you needed to pull him close to your chest and start rubbing his upper back with one of your hands while the other played with his hair.

-Can we just stay here all day and cuddle? -He asked, voice slurred from pure exhaustion.

-Well, we have nothing else to do so I guess, yeah...I love you so much Bucky.

-I love you more Y/N.

-I doubt that.

A/N : Phew, that's long, it's cute tho, I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

Monstertober Day 8

Careful what you wish for 🕯

Pairing: Incubus!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Initial Somnophilia, dub con, kind of rape, insults/degrading language, biting, scratching, marking, mentions of blood, womb tattoo/sigil, dumbification, aphrodisiac, vibrator, p in v, overstimulation, cunnilingus, demon summoning, beefy!bucky, condescending!Bucky, dark!bucky, praise, fluff

Nicknames: Angel, Doll, sweetness

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: I’m so sorry this is late, I was extremely busy on Halloween with teacher training and university work. But this concludes Monstertober, I have some exciting things planned for November.

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺

Candles…You look around your floor surrounded by heaps of softly glowing candles, their flames waning and brightening again and again as the flame danced in the draft of your room. “Check.” you murmured, casting your eyes back to the grimoire’s aged pages; squinting in the darkness of your room trying to see the faded ink more clearly “stupidly complicated pentagram that took me multiple attempts and almost two hours to draw. Check.” You huffed glaring down at the pentagram drawn in white chalk on your floor, the edges smudged ever so slightly from where you’d repeatedly rubbed it away, only to redraw it wrong again. “An offering.” The book had not specified the offering that you had to provide for the demon, it simply said offering in intricate calligraphy “,how very helpful.” Grumbling you crouched to your knees, placing the grimoire down and scooping up your pile of “offerings” depositing them at random in a small circle inside your pentagram. Your offerings, if you could even call them that, consisted of a some loose change you’d found under and behind furniture, some candies you had lying around from halloween that the children hadn’t taken, a lock of your hair and a deeply personal item—which was the only clear instruction in the list, and you had chosen your trusty pink vibrator. Looking at the pink vibe on the floor made you want to crawl out of your skin in embarrassment, but it made the most sense since it was very deeply personal.

You picked the book back up and seated yourself in the centre of the summoning circle, you could feel your heart rate spike as you glanced down at the page for the summoning words. Your hands shook, palms growing cold and sweaty as you began “Heed my call, hear my cry may it lead you to me from your realm far away. I command you to my side so that we may make a contract.” You bite down on your finger drawing blood and swipe it across the floor “See me now and let me see you.” You blow out the candles around you and wait. You gulp as you sit cross legged in the dark, waiting. The sound of your breathing and your blood rushing makes the silence unbearable.

Nothing happens.

After sitting there for five minutes, you climb to your feet defeated. Tears on your waterline as you throw the book to the floor and flop into bed. You felt so stupid for even thinking that something like that would work, you feel the full weight of your adrenaline rush crashing to ground as curl under your covers rocking yourself to sleep s you mentally prepare for the rent payment tomorrow.

The blown out candles relight simultaneously as he steps out of the red swirling portal “You called?” He looked down expecting to see the person who summoned him, but he found the chalk pentagram staring back at him. He bends down, picking up the book you’d thrown harshly to the floor with a frown. He dusts off the grimoire, tracing the embossing in the leather cover with his blackened fingers, turning down the heat of his brimstone skin so the book doesn't burn. From the corner of his eye he catches your body shifting under the covers. He sets the grimoire gently on your chest of drawers and pads over to your bed “Wake up my little sleeping Angel.” He whispers in a gravelly tone, forming an ‘o’ with his reddened lips and blowing a stream of cold air against your ear lobe making you stir. He seats himself on the edge of your bed trailing his hand across your sleeping form “You’re wearing too much for my liking. Let me help you with that.” He threw the covers off of you and turned you more on to your back so he could peel your baggy shirt off, moving as quiet as a mouse. You were left only in a pair of panties, your comfortable pair that you wore when you knew no one would be seeing them, Bucky smiled at them thumbing the fabric adoringly. He ran his fingers across the middle of your panties till a soaking crease was visible. “Already so horny for me, naughty little human.” Bucky pulled down your panties, taking them into his hand to see the clear, sticky proof of your arousal. He tossed the panties already able to smell the thick scent of your arousal, he knew he had to taste you. He dipped his head down, running his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you. He decided there and then he was going to claim you as his. He sucked on his fingers, getting them wet, before inserting them inside of you. Your walls drew him in, clamping so tightly around his fingers that he could barely move them. His hardened cock twitched as he imagined sliding into you, pounding you awake watching as your pleasured cries turned into pleas for him to stop. He had to stop a wicked grin from spreading across his lips. “You’ve been neglected for so long, Pet. Bucky’s gonna change that don’t you worry sweetheart. Who would neglect such a pretty pussy, so fucking tight.” His fingers start to glide through your spasming walls as they adjust to the thickness of his fingers. He targets the spongy spot inside you, debaucherous wet sounds filing the sleepy silence of your room. He paused as a soft mewl left your lips, your body shifting and your fisted hands tightening their hold on your pillow. He continued his ministrations even as your eyes fluttered open and you finally came to, your pleasured babbling pausing. You stared, horrified at the man sitting at the edge of your bed. Your eyes travelled up to the black horns on his head that looked like a ram's horns then down his red eyed that even in the darkness stuck out like a sore thumb, they shone like road studs in headlights stealing your attention before he opened his mouth displaying sharp, white teeth “Thanks for summoning me, Angel. I can see why you needed an incubus. You seem to be very pent up, but I can fix that for you.” His deep melodic voice made the initial stress you felt drift far away. You gaze drops downwards following the muscle of his neck down to the imposing bulk of his shoulders and arms, the rise and fall of his burly chest becoming hypnotising as his scent reaches your nostrils a mix of myrrh and musk that has your head swimming making you completely forget what he said. The feel of his rough palm cupping your cheek anchors you “I said, thank you for summoning me, Angel.”

“I didn’t summon an incubus. You- You have the wrong house.”

“No need to be coy. It’s fine to need a bit of help.”

“No, I genuinely didn’t summon an incubus. I wanted to Summon a demon that could help me. I'm working two jobs, I’m exhausted, the cost of everything is rising and I just can’t anymore. I'm running myself into the ground. I must have summoned the wrong type of demon.”

“Ah, that's Ari’s department. I’d contact him, but he’s a bit busy with a few cultists. So I guess you’re stuck with me for the time being, but I can help you in a different way, Doll.” His other hand reaches to the side of him and heat floods your cheeks as your eyes lock on the pink vibrator he has between his fingers. He pops it into his mouth like a hard candy and sucks it a little before spitting it back into his palm, pressing the button to turn it on “Nice and ready for you.” He chides, slipping his fingers out of your tight heat replacing the emptiness with the warmed, whirling vibrator. You feel your stomach constrict in pleasure as he guides the pink bullet in further with his fingers, positioning it right against your sweet spot. Shooting you a knowing smile as you sob your walls fluttering around his fingers as you convulse “Such a good girl for me, coming all over my fingers.” Bucky coos taking the vibe out from inside you bringing it to the head of his weeping cock moaning as he rubs it against his precum leaking slit, pumping his length with his other ashen hand “Time for you to take me sweetness.” You try to scramble away from him but he was much quicker than you, sensing your fear before it had even registered inside your brain. His warm rough palm seized your thigh pulling you back in position.

“It won’t fit! You’re going to tear me in two. Please can you just forget I summoned you.”

“Oh, Doll, that’s not how this works. You summoned me, I have duties to fulfill and in exchange for said duties I get your soul. I’m not leaving, this will not be forgotten. Regardless, you need to breathe; I’m not going to ‘tear you in two’ that sigil on your womb will make sure of it and make it pleasurable whilst I do. So calm down for me, I don’t like it when humans make my job more difficult than it has to be so behave and you’ll be rewarded.” His threats wrapped up in a sweet tone making it seem as if he wasn’t patronising you. Despite this you began to calm down, wrapping your legs around his hips and controlling your breathing. Your eyes drifted down his muscular torso, focusing on the intricate tattoo like patterns on his skin to relax your mind. The tattoos brought you down to the deep ‘v’ line of his pelvis and back to his veiny member which he was prodding to your entrance. You were pulled out of the trace-like state that his prominent veins had put you in, as he bottomed out in you until your walls were stretched taut around his meaty shaft. He stays still until the burn subsides, watching as your eyes gain a hazy, spaced out glaze and your mouth drops open in an inaudible moan. He pulls out and thrusts so hard into you that your bed scoots under the force, the sound of skin slapping skin echos through your small room as Bucky snaps his hips into you pushing himself deeper and deeper each time, his movements are slow yet rough making you feel every inch of him as he fucks into your tight heat. A surge of heat spread all the way from your hips to the sole of your feet and the tips of your fingers, you felt almost drunk on pleasure, every single thrust of his hips renewing the heat. Your whole body tingles as he presses the vibrator to your clit “God!” You scream as your legs wrapped around his waist begin to shake.

“Oh no sweet little Angel, God isn’t here. In this room, right now, I am your God. You worship me. I give you pleasure.” He purrs, swirling the vibe on your pulsing pearl as he angles the tip of his cock to hit your sweet spot over an over, drawing the orgasm building inside of you to the surface making you cum with a whimpering cry.

The sound of your blood rushing in your ears filled your senses as you came down from your high, even as you came back to your senses you felt much more distanced from reality; your body felt as if it was submerged in a warm bath, and slowly but surely you were sinking below the water. Your break was cut short by Bucky continuing his thrusts, his hand pressing the vibrator to your now throbbing clit didn’t budge—he instead pushed down more harshly on your clit making your legs quake uncontrollably “Hnng! Please!” Was all you could force out before your tongue became useless, lolling out of your mouth. You came again with a shout, clawing Bucky’s back with your nails as you threw your head back into the pillow, your back arching even further into the air. You came so hard you forgot how to breathe, a heavy weight crushing your chest, as you slumped back into the mattress trying your hardest to breathe Bucky finally removed the vibe from your raw little nub. His palm flattened against your stomach where the sigil was placed rubbing a slow circle that set your nerves on fire, before he brought his hand up to the bulge in your stomach and pressed harshly with his thumb tearing a whimper from your throat.

“Fuck you can see me inside of you, Angel. I’m all up in your guts rearranging them. Turning you into the perfect little cock sleeve, gonna make sure I ruin you for any other man. Oh wait, you won't be taking any other man after me. Because; You. Belong. To. Me.” Her punctuated every word with a rough thrust, bashing your cervix which would usually hurt but whatever he did gave you a supreme, otherworldly amount of pleasure “the sigil is almost full, one more orgasm and my seed should be enough to fill it. Do you think you can take it?” He questions a small smile gracing his lips as he awaits your answer, but all you can do is mumble “So fucked out that you can’t even form a sentence, your heads probably so empty right now, my little fuck doll. It’s okay, you don’t need to think, Angel, let me do that for you; can’t expect a dumb little human like you who can’t even read the pages of a very clear, simple book correctly.” His hand slithers up your body towards your neck, wrapping around your throat before he starts to apply pressure—observing as your body begins to melt into the mattress. His thrusts continued and paired with the lack of oxygen bright flashes of white flicker across your vision. All your nerves began to thrum as you felt another orgasm coming, your wall clamped around him as you got closer to the edge. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, he released your neck allowing air to flow back into your lungs as he dipped his head down to your shoulder inking his teeth into your skin. The overwhelming sensations of lightheadedness, pleasure and pain threw your senses into orbit as you came your pussy squeezing his cock as you raked your nails across his back hard enough to draw blood. Bucky gave a few more weak, uncoordinated thrusts before he painted your insides with a wanton moan gripping the pillow hard enough for it to tear. You could barely comprehend your surroundings, you felt as if you were made of air and if Bucky let go of you you’d dissipate. Your heart hammered against your rib cage, as you stared up at Bucky’s handsome face; his sweat darkened hair glued to his forehead. He let out a chuckle, his hand caressing the sigil at your womb “Happy Halloween, Angel. This is the last one you’ll ever have to spend alone. The contract has been made and now, you belong to me. Forever.”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @redbloodedgurl @shrekwreck @sweetwrathoflilith @cjand10 @flamefoxxrecs @addie5587483 @little-bunny0523 @sojuxxi @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @itwillgetbetter @taramaria @anniellacinamon @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @teddybearsgrr

Monstertober Day 7:

Shrine built of lies

Pairing: Occultist!Stucky x Victim!/captured!Reader

Warnings: Non con!!!, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, reader is a sacrifice, knife play?, mentions of blood, public sex, voyeurism, humiliation, implied cult, mystery demon, choking, blood kink, Dark!Stucky, p in v, oral (male receiving) , spitting in readers mouth, dacryphilia, manipulation, betrayal of trust

Nicknames: Doll, Dove

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Who do you guys think the mysterious demon is? It’ll be revealed tomorrow 😏 and I may make a sequel of this featuring the aftermath and this particular demon 😈

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺

From behind your eyelids you can feel a blaring light on your face, your body is uncomfortably warm; sweat rolling down your temple, your clothes damp—sticking to your body almost as if it was a summer afternoon, but it was October. Your mouth feels as if it’s stuffed with cotton wool—you move your tongue around and swallow to generate saliva, but a painful ache radiates in your throat as you do. There’s a mass of indistinct mumbling, so intune that it’s like the thrumming of a hive of bees. You keep your eyes closed, moving your hand across the cool stone feeling a smooth, waxy residue as you soak up the coolness. You don’t remember falling asleep and you definitely weren’t in your house, you think you must have fallen asleep during your lunch break.

Sluggishly you open your heavy eyelids, squinting as the light dominates your vision. Slowly you adjust, opening your eyes fully and you let your eyes wander around you. You’re surrounded by people in black robes, they’re hanging over you; they’re black hoods covering their face as they chant. You’re surrounded by heaps of long, white pillar candles, the hot wax dripping onto the stone slab you were laid on. You try to move your arm but the jangle of a chain pauses your movements, the copper scent of your own blood reaches your nose; your wrists are rubbed raw from you moving in your sleep. The people stop chanting and begin to shuffle away from you, moving as if they are all sewed together—so synchronised that it’s horrifying. As they move away you can see more of your surroundings. Intricately carved, Chalky, white pillars decorated with crooked crosses and dripping taper candles. You were in a cathedral, facing the massive wooden doors. The people at your feet began to part, allowing you to see two men approaching briskly. Their black robes more ornate than the others; decorated with silver and red embroidery, jewels and rosaries. At the bottom of the altar they split, one going to your left, the other going to your right. They pushback their hoods allowing you to see their faces, your eyes go wide.

“Hiya, Doll.” Bucky’s familiar smooth Brooklyn accent reaches your ears, and even though you’re chained to an altar, in clothes that are not your own and he and Steve are more than likely responsible. Your face burns and you begin to tingle, your hole fluttering in response to his voice.

“Did you have a nice nap, Dove? You made our coffees just how we like them, you were so preoccupied that you didn’t even notice Buck slipping something into your own drink.”

They were responsible.

You knew they were, but hearing Steve confess made the betrayal sting just a bit more. As if they were twisting the knives they’d both stabbed in your back. You had made these two coffee everyday for almost two months straight, you got to know about their childhoods; how Bucky used to protect Steve when he was scrawny and used to get into street fights, you learnt they joined the military together and now they lived together. You trusted them. They were the favourite part of your shift and now they've betrayed you. The guilt took the form of a lump in your throat as tears brimmed your eyes. You thought they liked you, you thought they were flirting with you—that they wanted you to be a part of their lives. Tears rolled down your burning cheeks “Don’t cry, Doll, you’re safe. You’re with us Steve and Bucky, history professor and personal trainer. That’s the lie we told you wasn’t it? Or was that the last one?”

“Aw Buck, look at her. Her whole world’s fallin’ apart. Be gentle with her, or don’t it’ll be more fun if you’re not.” This Steve was completely different from the bashful, kind man who frequented the coffee shop you worked at. They both were, they were completely different, the dichotomy was terrifying. The fact they had both been so deceitful and created completely alternate personalities just to be able to kidnap and kill you for some freaky cult made the anguish inside you boil into indignation.

“What the fuck is going on!?” You screeched the venom left from their treachery laced in your words.

Bucky slaps you harshly across the face “Don’t use that type of language. Doll. It’s not ladylike, and it’s especially inappropriate in this place of worship. This is a sacred place for the Holy Army of Hydra. We didn’t lie completely, after all we were in the army and now we’re in a different kind of army.”

One of the cloaked followers breaks from the line and scuttles over to Steve, whispering into his ear “Bucky, it’s almost time. We need to start the ceremony soon, or it’ll be too late.”

“What ceremony?”

“That's why you’re here, Doll, you’re our virgin sacrifice that we’re going to corrupt and then offer to our Lord.” Your mouth hung open as you stared at him wide eyed in disbelief. Bucky stroked his rough knuckles against your soft cheek as he shushed you “Shhh, there’s no need to be scared, Doll. You’re gonna be helping us and you’ll feel so much pleasure before we end your pathetic, meaningless little life. All you did with your life was make coffees for minimum wage, you won’t miss livin’ much.” His honeyed words only made your eyes leak more, he gave you a twisted smile as you began to sniffle your tears turning into full on sobs “Keep going you're makin me harder. I love it when they cry.”

“You’re so pretty when you cry, little Dove. I just wanna hit you more. Maybe strangle you, watch you choke on your own congealed spit and tears.” You shied away from his touch as he reached for your neck, but you couldn’t go far thanks to your restraints “Just one of my hands fits around your entire neck” he gave a little squeeze, smirking as you coughed and then he flashed the warm smile he gave you when he first entered the coffee shop two month prior. The smile that made you instantly fall in love with him, the smile you saw in your dream when you imagined your future with them both. He gave you that smile and tightened his grip, they both laughed as you flailed your arms about—trying to reach him to get him to stop, as you began to choke feeling all the oxygen quickly drain from your lungs. You were gasping for air like a fish out of water and then he let go “Breathe. You’re gonna need it, Dove.”

“And Now loyal followers! We will begin the ritual, close the circle around us. Don’t let go of each other's hands or you’ll make our Lord angry, so no matter what you must hold hands and not break the chant. Begin.”

Bucky ran his hand across the smooth surface of the altar as strode to where your feet were. He climbed on to it, using his strength to bend your legs at the knee, even despite your resistance, and positioned himself between your legs. The white chemise bunch at your hips leaving your bare pussy on display for all to see. “You’re dripping for us, Doll. Do you like being watched? Do you like being captured and held against your will? Does the prospect of being released from the painful existence of this mortal coil excite you?” You furiously shook your head, biting on your lip to suppress a whimper as he ran a hot finger through your folds “Your body is honest, why aren’t you?” He held out his slick covered fingers to Steve and he gladly took them into his mouth.

“So tasty, Dove.” He praised, turning your head on its side to face him “Open your mouth, suck me off. No teeth.” Hesitantly you opened your mouth, Steve slapped his dick against your cheek leaving sticky precum on your in it’s wake before shoving his full length down your throat. You gaged around him, making your throat restrict around him; you could feel every single vein on his shaft and you felt it twitch as you gagged again. Steve groaned in response, taking a handful of your hair as leverage as he abused your throat.

The pain in your jaw was overridden by the blistering ache of Bucky’s thick dick splitting you open. You choked as you tried to scream, digging your nails into Steve’s thigh till you drew blood. The action only made him quicken his thrusts.

“Fuckkk. She feels like silk, Stevie”

Steve swiftly pulled his member out of your mouth and walked over to the end of the altar behind Bucky, his throbbing, wet dick bobbing against his pelvis as he walked. “Change position, I want to feel you around me.” Steve orders, the dominance in his words making the man tearing you apart bite his lip. He complied, shifting his position of being crouched on his knees, to him placing one hand next to your head and using the other to drag your legs around his hips; so he could still thrust into you whilst presenting himself to the approaching blonde. Steve crawled behind him kneeling down, he spat on his fingers and smeared it on Bucky’s clenching rosebud, giving Bucky the care and gentleness that the brunette had skipped over before he shoved himself inside you. “That’s it, open up for me Buck. You’re always so tight when I fuck whilst you’re getting your cock squeezed.” Bucky choked out a moan as Steve scissored his fingers, his thrusts stopped momentarily when Steve slipped inside.

His fist next to your head pounded into the hard stone of the altar as he let out a low moan “God, Steve…F-feels great. She’s really squeezing now, do you like watching Steve fuck me, you little pervert?” His tittering was cut short as Steve began to thrust, making his hips involuntarily move in tandem. The chant of the cultist faded to white noise as pain eventually became pleasure. Bucky’s thrust became less brutal and more loving as Steve thrusted into him slowly and rhythmically, his hands caressing Bucky’s body over the robe. A pleasurable heat swept through you, your clit tingling as Bucky puffed warm breathes down onto you “Get lost in the pleasure, it’s not so bad after all is it.”

“I-I h-hate you.” You whined as the head of Bucky’s cock nudge against the sweet spot inside you. Your mouth opened in a silent wail and Bucky spat into your open mouth.

“Swallow my spit. Be- ah Be grateful.” He scowled at you as he waited expectantly, you did as he said swallowing down his spit “Such a good Doll.” He cooed, his praise made you keen and tighten. Bucky slammed into you brutally, chuckling at your yelp. You were so embarrassed, but God if it didn’t feel good. You had completely forgotten about the circle of chanting people surrounding you. The only thing that existed right now was Bucky, Steve and the pleasure they were drawing from you.

“cummming! Gonna cum!” You exclaimed feeling the heated tingle in your lower belly becoming unbearable.

“Cum. Do it. Make Buck cum, so he can make me cum.” Steve’s deep commanding voice was the final push you needed for your eyes to roll back into your head and your pussy to constrict around Bucky making him cum with a whimpered fuck, pouring so much of his hot cum into you that it began to leak from adding to the puddle of your juices below your hips. Steve wasn’t far behind; forcing Bucky back into his hips with such force you thought he’d dislocate his hip as he came.

Your vision slowly returned, and just as you were no longer seeing only white, from seemingly nowhere Bucky pulled out a highly decorated, sharp dagger and carved a heart into your chest. You yanked at your restraints screaming like a banshee as the knife cut through your flesh, the agony only intensified when Bucky dipped his head and sucked at the fresh wound. He pulled away, licking the blood from his lips, as if it were simply red wine. Steve leaned over towards Bucky, capturing his blood stained lips in a passionate kiss. Moaning as the metallic taste of your blood entered his mouth, his scar littered hands take hold of the dark fabric of Bucky’s robe pulling him closer so he can devour Bucky’s lips; his tongue searching for traces of your blood whilst entangled with Bucky’s. Steve breaks the kiss, leaving Buck a panting mess on top of you, and he dips his head down to the incision Bucky made over your heart sucking blood from the leaking wound like a starved animal making you scream as he pulls at the damaged skin with his teeth. Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s golden hair as he feasts “That’s it Stevie drink your fill, she tastes so delectable doesn’t she?” Steve hums in response sending vibrations through the throbbing cut making you squeal “You need to stop so she doesn’t pass out before the ritual is complete.” He tries to remove Steve but he growls at Bucky giving him a dark, animalistic scowl as he digs his nails into the skin of your arm “Punk. I said let go.” Bucky yanks his hair making Steve stop and come up from your chest, his face smeared with your blood.

“I’m hungry, Buck. Her blood is so fucking good. I’m hard again.” He mumbles, taking his hard cock into his hand and pumping it.

Bucky slips off the altar and pulls Steve close, running his tongue across Steve’s bloodied cheek and then starts sucking your blood out of his beard; whilst rubbing the pad of his thumb across the slit of Steve’s dick. “They’ll be time to feast on her more later…and take care of other things, but right now we need to complete the ritual. Practice patience, like the Lord commands.” They parted ways again, both returning to their respective places—Bucky on your left, Steve on your right. They both took hold of the dagger, raising it high so the warm light of the candles cast fragments of light around the cathedral

“Please! No! Please!” You cry, whimpering as you try to curl your body away from the path of the knife.

“May our Lord receive our offering.” They both chant, plunge the knife into your throat. Steve immediately lets go, but Bucky pulls out the knife and makes a slit horizontally across your neck. Blood spurts in streams from your neck, like an elegant fountain in a town plaza. The men chanting raise their heads and push back their hoods—moving in unison. They all collect some of your blood onto their fingers and draw a symbol on their foreheads “May our lord receive our offering.” They drone simultaneously. A cold rush of air blows through the cathedral, all the candles blow out leaving them in utter darkness.

“James. What’s going on?” Steve’s voice quivers as he asks, turning his face towards Bucky to try and look into his eyes from comfort. It was impossible to see.

“I don’t know. Steven. None of this shit is meant to be real.” He spat, nerves sending a wave of goosebumps across his skin. His hand sought for Steve’s, entwining his fingers with his for some security. He knew Steve was going to be pissed at him, he thought it was all real after all. It was meant to be fake and only Bucky was meant to know that.

Steve opened his mouth to speak but a booming voice began “Your Lord has arrived. I thank you for the gifts, but I think I want a few more. Maybe all of your souls will suffice.”

Tag list: @phildunphyisadilf @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @redbloodedgurl @shrekwreck @sweetwrathoflilith @cjand10 @flamefoxxrecs @addie5587483 @little-bunny0523 @sojuxxi @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @itwillgetbetter @cevansgurl @bval-1 @taramaria @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @anniellacinamon

Monstertober Day 6:

Below the lily pads🪷

Pairing: Swamp monster/Siren!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Non con, death, Dead dove: do not eat, dark!bucky, beefy!bucky, forced breeding, p in v, anal fingering, sex in a forest, sex near a pond, drowning, marking/biting, mentions of blood, scratching, choking, praise, delusional!Bucky, victim!reader

Nicknames: Doll, sweetness, doll face

Word count: 2.1k

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺

You plopped down on the couch with a huff, that was the final box. You’d finally finished unpacking everything and now you could relax. You raised your head and glanced into your new garden, which was the woods connected to your property. The sky was dark, aside from the silvery glow of the moon and stars which hung in the velvet blanket of the cobalt night sky—it was going to get way darker. The thought of being unable to see into your backyard, which was now so much larger than before, made your stomach churn “Buy outdoor lights, noted.” You slowly rose from the couch staring suspiciously out into the thicket of dark fir trees, if you stared for long enough you could see movement, one day of being here and your eyes were playing tricks on you already making you paranoid “I’m going to go mental here, aren’t I?” You joked, turning away from the darkness outside your french doors and instead turning your attention to your beautifully lit kitchen. Your stomach rumbled lowly, it was way later than you thought and the day of unpacking had left you famished.

Looking at the contents of your fridge made you sigh, you had enough for a basic meal but nothing fancy. You grabbed the two cloves of garlic you had left, the random half of an. onion and the two tomatoes rolling around freely in the fridge draw and dumped them on the countertop “Pasta it is…Do I even have any pasta.” You stood on your tiptoes opening the cupboard and began to rummage, you had enough spices to open a spice market, stocked up on medications, hot chocolate mix, extra coffee and an assortment of herbal teas, but no pasta. You said a silent prayer as you opened the next cupboard and there it was, a half empty box of spaghetti “Thank all that is holy!” You exclaimed, placing it on the counter as you pulled out a pot and a pan and put it beside the spaghetti. You swayed along to the enchanting sound of man singing as you filled the pot with water and placed it on the stove, it was a song you’d never heard before. You began to hum along, turning to your record player curiously to see what record you’d put on. It wasn’t on. You hadn’t put any records on. There were no houses for miles, you were alone in the middle of the woods; so there was absolutely no way it was from a neighbour. You threw open one of the draws and pulled out the biggest knife you owned, the blade glimmering in the overhead lighting of the kitchen as you held it defensively up in the air. Standing as still as possible, you stopped breathing momentarily to listen, your heart thumping in your ears as you cautiously stepped towards the singing. The sound was coming from outside. Biting down on your lip you tiptoed towards the glass, squinting in an attempt to see outside. You pressed your face to the chilly glass, goosebumps rippling across your skin. You couldn’t see anything but the reflection of your house's Interior.

You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, as your hand wrapped around the handle of the door, you begrudgingly opened it. Aware of every little sound; the swaying of the trees in the light wind, the metallic tick of the lock as you pushed on the handle, the crunch of leaves as small animals skittered through the woods. Every small noise made the anxiety rising within you worse. “Is anyone out here?” You called. Nothing. The smooth baritone singing continued.

Slipping on the pair of hiking boots you’d left outside to dry, you squeezed the knife; mentally preparing yourself to venture into woods.

You were deep into the forest by now, the singing was getting louder. You were close. “Singing stranger! Your voice is lovely, but this is private property and it’s late. You’re really freaking me out here, so if you could…maybe leave, that would be great.” The singing stopped, leaving you to listen to the soft chirp of crickets. You pushed aside some brambles allowing you to see a clearing and a pond surrounded by overgrown aquatic plants; long, thick brown pond reeds towered tall and piles of bulrush outlined the small waterhole. A small section of the bank was not overtaken by plants, a flat slab of rock that was damp as you advanced towards it bending just enough to swipe your fingers through the moisture. It had no smell, you thought maybe one of the fishes had splashed the water on it. Thinking that brought you solace. Looking closer at the pond, you adored it. It needed work that was for certain but you could definitely clean it up, add some lights around it and place a bench close to it to make it a cute picnic spot. Your shoes sunk into the mud as you crouched down next to the pond, watching as the reflection of the pale moon was distorted in the ripples of the water. You reach towards one of the water lilies, trying not to fall into the pond as you lean forward. The tips of your fingers brush against the soft, yet firm, petals and you try to pinch it between your outstretched fingers to pull it closer. You miss it. You glance down at the bank of the pond before shuffling closer to the edge, you repeat your actions from before but this time you're able to reach. You pull the flower closer, the pink of the petals becoming clearer as the lily pad parts the water drawing closer to you. Something wet and slimy grazes your ankle, making you release the lily, you fall backwards into the mud as you squirm away from the water edge. You let out a scream as a viscid webbed hand seizes your ankle, you kick and squirm against the tight hold.

“There’s no need to be scared, doll. It’s me, the stranger who was singing. You said my voice was beautiful.” From the clear water emerged a man with murky green gils framing his clean shaven face. Despite being in the water his hair was completely dry, the moon casting a blue glow down on his pushed back brown locks. His blue eyes were warm, welcoming and crinkled at the corners from the wide toothy grin stretched across his face, all of his teeth were pointed and curved like a shark. Murky water glided down his defined chest, as if his skin was covered in wax. You laid paralysed in the mud as he used his free hand to prop himself up on the bend of his tail, his scales glinting in the moonlight. Peaking out of the slit below his waist were two erect dicks, tinged green like his scales and ribbed. A bead of precum leaked down from the tip onto the other one below it causing it to twitch in response. You woke from your paralysis, scrambling on to your knees, Bucky lurched forward pushing you back into the mire “Where do you think you’re going, Doll? We haven’t even started yet.” His claw-like nails cut through your shirt and shorts like butter exposing you to the chilly autumn air, his nails scratching your skin deep enough for it to bleed as he cut through your clothes.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You screamed kicking at his muscular tail, Bucky dug his nails into your sides making you yelp in pain—stopping your struggling as you felt the burning pain travel across your nerves.

“Stop struggling, Doll.” He hissed, spit flying into your face. You wiped it away with your arm and turned your head further to look at his face

“Make me.” You spat, grabbing a handful of dirt and throwing it at him. The warmth left his eyes and his smile fell, his cold stare remained locked on you as he slammed your head into the mud. You choked and spat as sludge entered your mouth.

“That wasn’t very nice, sweetness. I know what's best for you, so just lie still.” Bucky warned raking his claws across your back to pull you closer, he held both dicks in his hand lining them up to your hole. You tried to wiggle your hips away from him but he mercilessly slammed into you the tips of his dicks painfully bashing against your cervix as he stretched you open; a dull burn radiating through your waist. Your walls constricted around him trying to force him out of you, he thrusted against the resistance making an agony akin to period camps spread through your stomach. Bile rose in your throat as he continued his pounding, using you like a fleshlight. You felt the tip of his needle-like fingernail pressing against your rose bud, your screams of resistance were muffled by the mud as he forcefully shoved his thumb into your tight ring, a stabbing pain travelling across your back “So tight for me. All for me.” He moaned, draping himself over you and biting into your shoulder blade. White hot pain surged across your back corrupting your senses as white flashed across your vision. You began to struggle with new found vigour. But it was futile his body weight alone kept you pinned to the ground. Bucky’s snake-like tongue lapped at the blood flowing from the teeth shaped puncture wound hungrily. “Taste so sweet, doll. Never gonna let you go, you’re gonna have my babies.You want them don’t you? Want me to make you a Mommy.” Bucky whined, the thrusting of his hip causing more water to slosh out of the pond and splatter against you both.

“No!” You shrieked, hoping that for some reason anyone was in the vicinity to be able to hear you. You couldn’t give a shit if they were trespassing on your property, if they could help you then nothing would matter. He pushed your face deeper into the mixture of mire and swamp water, you dug your hands into the sludge below you endeavouring to not suffocate. You became frantic as you felt the oxygen left in your lungs running low, the taste of mud and swamp water entered your mouth through your nostrils making you gaged as you suffocated. Survival instincts took over your mind, dulling the stabbing pains throbbing throughout your entire body. You needed to get him off, or you were going to die.

“You don’t mean that, Doll, you’ll come to terms with it eventually. You’ll melt when you see how beautiful our children are going to be, I’m going to pump you so full of them. Your stomach is going to swell with our children.” As his thrust became more brutal he lent more of his body weight on your head. Your lungs burned, desperate for air. Your screams making bubbles in the ooze, you were swallowing dirt but all you could think of was survival. Your hands flailed behind you grabbing for the swamp monster, why you felt the firm skin of his torso you dragged your nails across it furiously. Trying to hurt him so he’d get off you. But your attack just fuelled his fire “I didn’t know you liked it rough, sweetness. You should have told me.” He purred, slamming into you with harsh, shallow thrusts. You felt warm puffs of breath against your throat before an intense, excruciating pain shot through your neck; his teeth tore through your skin as he bit down harder and harder tearing the muscles and skin from your throat. You couldn’t even scream, he’d torn out your vocal cords. The warmth of your blood against your freezing skin gave you a small moment of comfort as you felt your life fading away. Your body was so heavy, you couldn’t lift your hands. Your clawing and squirm slowed, the haze in your mind feeling as thick as the mud you were laying in. The pain stopped, everything stopped.

“Doing so good for me, Doll. I’m gonna cum. That’s it, relax for me. That's it. Gonna- ah-” Bucky gave a few more weak, shallow thrusts as his hot seed filled you. He pressed a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, stroking your dirty, wet hair. He let out a soft chuckle “Already asleep. That really took it out of you? Didn’t it, doll face. You did so well.” He whispered, picking up your limp body and turning you to press your face into his chest “I can wait to start a family with you, Doll. You’re gonna be such a good Mommy.”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @redbloodedgurl @shrekwreck @sweetwrathoflilith @cjand10 @flamefoxxrecs @addie5587483 @little-bunny0523 @sojuxxi @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @itwillgetbetter @taramaria @anniellacinamon

Monstertober Day 5:

The empty sarcophagus𓂀

Pairing: Mummy!Steve Rogers x Reader x Jackal!Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Dub con, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, asphyxiation/ choking, scratching, marking/biting, mentions of blood, threesome, Stucky x Reader

Nicknames: Puppy, Pup, Scarab

Word count: 2.4K

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺

Watery sunlight from the alternative entrance of the tomb falls down onto the golden sarcophagus, brightening, waning and brightening again. You arrived early enough that it's still cold, you wanted to avoid the midday heat and its blinding, orangey light that followed; you wanted to relax in the bluish grey light, the chill of the air and the absence of people scuttling around like little ants, occupying every square inch of the tomb, searching for secrets, for riches. It was stifling, suffocating; the smell of warm, sweaty people.

You entered into the sliver of sunlight, relishing in the tepid heat that faded and intensified like the ocean lapping at the shore. The golden sarcophagus in front of you was captivating, you ran your hand across the beaten gold covering the wooden coffin letting your hand linger on the brilliant coloured glass and semi-precious stones, fingering each of them in their imperfect rows; following their designs—the story of the inhabitants life. This was just the outer layer of the sarcophagus, next to it was a much heavier coffin, believed to be made of solid gold, that your team had struggled extracting from the initial layer. You moved over to it, more light was seeping in from the entrance now; the golden coffin glimmered, the lapis lazuli, agate, carnelian, amethyst and variscite inlaid on the tomb looked truly beautiful in the soft glow of the rising sun. Ever so gently you brushed your fingers across the side of the coffin, following the curve. You lifted the lid, inching it slowly open and pushing it to the side. It was empty. You could see all the inscriptions, the story of the inhabitants' entire life, but the actual mummy was gone. A frantically carved inscription was raggedly scratched into the bottom of the tomb, your eyes narrowed, your brain burning as you translated it “Cursed be those who enter my tomb...Those that break the seal of this tomb will meet their end by me. I shall seize their neck and cast fear of myself into them…Death will be upon them.” You bit your lip, removing your shaking hands from the edge of the sarcophagus and stepping backwards on trembling legs “Just a mummy’s curse, nothing too bad that’s normal. It’s going to be fine.” You soothed yourself, taking a deep breath in. Your panic was reignited when you realised “Where the fuck is the mummy?” A thin piece of fabric wrapped around your neck and you pulled backwards harshly, falling to the ground. Your hands flew to the fabric constricting your neck scratching at it, trying to distance it from your throat as it choked you, spittle flying from your mouth as you threw your head back to see who was dragging you. It was too dark.

Your vision adjusted as you were dragged into a room lit by rushlight candles, a dusty table was in the center dotted with canopic jars. The dragging stopped as did the choking, the fabric slipped away from its place around your throat; and you began sucking air back into your lungs as you swiveled your head to see who had almost asphyxiated you. You found the missing mummy. He towered over you, his atavistic linen wrapping falling off of him, exposing areas of his ancient, brown-tinged body. His face was fully visible—it was in almost perfect condition, minus a small laceration on the side of his head—defined cheekbones, a trimmed beard and piercing eyes like polished chrysocolla. He was handsome for a mummy, that thought was quickly replaced by a myriad of questions. You slowly got to your feet, putting your arms in front of yourself protectively “Scarab…” He uttered in a drawling tone.

“Scarab? No, wait, How are you even alive?” You questioned an incredulous expression distorting your features.

“That would be because of me, Pup.” A disembodied voice admitted. You turned around to try and see the other man, squinting and staring into the shadowed parts of the tomb. Then there was movement in the darkness “Over here,” He stepped into the light of the rushlight waving one of his hands that was partly paw; his hand was deep black with pads on his fingers and palm, “Hi.”

“Anubis?” Your voice tremored, you stumbled backwards bumping into the mummy behind you. His arms pulled you into him, settling you against his chest “Get off of me!” You struggled against his grip. The smell of decaying flesh reaching your nose makes you gag.

The Jackal stalked closer “Not quite, I’m Bucky a servant of Anubis and behind you is Steve; once an extremely important attendant and warrior for the pharaoh, now he is a mummy which I reanimated.” Bucky caressed your face with his cold dog-like palm, stroking across your cheek with his thumb—the long claw-like nail just about missed your eye. “You're going to be punished for opening the tomb, Pup, isn’t she Stevie?” Steve simply grunted in response, rubbing his crotch into your ass. You attempted to wriggle out of his grip but Bucky caged you in, his hands wandering down your body caressing your waist and hips. Below the thin material of his loincloth you could see his cock get harder, lifting the fabric as it did. His hands trailed back up to your tits, giving them a squeeze before he used one his sharp nails to tear open your blouse and bra. His chilly hands tweaked your nipples, his claws cutting into your skin as he pinched, you gasped trying to pull away from his touch.

Bucky’s other hand moved down to your shorts, undoing the buttons and tugging them down to your feet along with you underwear “I can smell you, little Puppy, there’s no point in trying to get away so you should at least have some fun or we’ll give you a truly terrible curse.” His voice was low and threatening, eyes narrowed and dark as he relished in the fear present in your tear reddened eyes. Bucky goes down on his knees, carefully helping you out of your shorts and tossing them across the embalming room. He placed one of your legs over his shoulder, liking his lips at the sight of your wet pussy. “So wet for us, Pup, do you secretly like being shared by two people? Do you like us taking you against your will?” You whined in response turning your head away to stare at the ancient walls, one of Steve’s hands seized your face pulling you into a kiss. His mouth was cold and tasted bitter. You scrunch your nose as he deepened the kiss, then you felt Bucky slide his long tongue inside of; the hot, wet muscle filled you so well, attacking the sweet spot inside you as the bridge of his nose rubbed against your sensitive clit. You writhed in the mummies grasp, your hands clenching and unclenching frantically—you were desperate to bury your hands in Bucky’s curls; to feel his long velvety ears and run the silky inside between your thumb and index finger. You could feel heat building in you belly as Bucky removed his tongue from your eager hole and began to suck and tease your bud, Steves kisses simply added to the sensation you head growing fuzzy from the stimulation which only intensified when Steve released your face from his hold and satiated the burning need of your clenching hole by roughly shoving two of his fingers inside you.

You pulled away from the intense kiss, slamming your head into his broad shoulder as you let out a breathy moan. “Feel good…Khepri- Scarab?” Steve probed, nibbling at your ear.

“Yes!” You whined, prying a hand from his grasp and digging your hand into Bucky’s soft hair, grinding your hips into his face trying to chase your release. He pulled away, lips red, his chin shining with spit and your slick “So close” you sobbed playing with his charcoal ears, fiddling with the golden piercing. Bucky’s large tongue licked across your inner thigh, you heard him let out a low chuckle before he sunk his teeth into the soft flesh. You hissed, slamming the back of his head with your fists. He released the area he’d bitten, slurping at the blood dripping down your thigh.

“You’re going to let Stevie fuck you arent you, Scarab?”

“I call her Scarab, my Scarab.” Steve grunted, tightening his hold on you so much so that you thought your wrist would snap, you could feel the bruises already forming as he strangled your wrists. You squeaked as he tugged you closer, his hard dick pressing on to your back, dripping precum “Saw her first. Like Khepri…appeared from nowhere, Scarab special. Mine.”

“Steve, you need to learn how to share. She can be both of ours, my Puppy, your Scarab. Okay?” Bucky kneads Steve’s shoulders soothingly.

“Fine. Scarab, up.” Steve picked you up, carrying you over to the table brushing his arm across it knocking the fragile canopic jars to the floor causing them to shatter. He lays you on your back on the dusty stone table; he pulled your hips closer to the edge. Staring into your eyes as he ran his red, leaking, mushroom head through your folds. You whimpered as he teased you, copying what he’d seen Bucky do earlier and playing with your puffy clit. With a single thrust he shoved himself fully inside, his dick crashing against your cervix almost painfully as he tried to fit all of his length in, giving shallow thrust to try get it all the way. A painful sting tore through you as your pussy tried to grow accustomed to the size of his girth shaft, Steve's eyebrows knitted together in frustration.

Bucky grazed his hand across Steve’s arm gently “It’s not gonna fit all the way. Remember what I told you? You’re big.” The jackal chuckled at Steve’s pout and his grumbling “He’s big isn’t he, Puppy? Too big. Try to breathe. Now turn your head to the side, Steve’s not gonna be the only one having fun.” You don’t know why, but you obeyed him; turning your head so your cheek rested against the cool stone. When you turned you were met with Bucky’s cock, he’d taken off his loin cloth and now you could fully see it. It was long, thick (not as thick as Steves), with a purple vein running from the base all the way to the tip and a golden piercing through the head, matching the ones in his ears. A bead of precum dripped from the head and he smeared it across your lips. A devious smile stretching across his lips “Open up. Don’t even think about biting it or I’ll pull out all your teeth and put them in one of the canopic jars.” He lowered his voice an octave as he threatened you. Steve stopped his thrusts giving Bucky a disapproving glare.

“Don’t threaten Scarab.” He growled, making Bucky’s ears pull backwards, he nodded, looking like a puppy that just got caught chewing something they weren’t supposed to, you snickered shooting a smile at him. Your smile soon faded as Bucky’s heady scent filled your nostrils; he sheathed the full length of his veiny cock in your mouth. You could feel the head of his dick brush uncomfortably against the walls of your throat. You gaged a bit and he rasped out a moan in response “that’s it, choke on it, Puppy.” You claw at his thick, hair thighs with your nails pushing yourself off of him, saliva leaking down your chin as you glare at him with teary eyes. He tangles his fingers in your hair and begins pounding into you, disregarding your muffled pleas for him to slow down “this is a punishment after all, Pup. Can’t be too nice.”

“Scarab feels good, s-so warm.” Steve moaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoing throughout the room.

“I won't deny that she’s warm, but it’s also because you’re extremely cold, big guy.” Bucky used his free hand to play with your nipples, circling the hardened nub with his claw “Gonna make pleasure and pain indistinguishable for you.” Buck snarled, dragging his claws across your rib cage as he rammed his dick down your throat. Your jaw ached and mild prickling from the tiny incisions made you clench around Steve. You felt so full, your brain growing hazy as a pleasurable heat spread across your lower back.You tried to close your legs around Steve as the tingling inside you grew “She’s close. Come for us, Puppy!” He demanded quickening his thrusts in an attempt to catch up to both you and Steve. Your eyes flickered upwards towards the mummy above you. His face was flushed, mouth wide open, tears in his eyes as his brutal pace continued—the sight was enough to send you over the edge.

The sounds of Steve and Bucky’s moans cut into white noise as the coil tightening within your lower abdomen finally snapped, making your eyes roll back into your head as your pussy tensed around Steve's pulsing dick. His fingers dug into your hips as he came with a violent thrust and a gravelly grunt. Your eyes burned as Bucky’s held your face flush against his pelvis as let all of his seed flow down your throat. Bucky slipped his cock out of your mouth, the ache within your jaw finally dissipated. Begrudgingly Steve weakened his hold on your hips, whining as he slowly pulled out of you. Groggily you lifted your wrist, reading your watch—it was almost eight in the morning. The team was going to be here soon. Shakily you got to your feet, searching for your shorts that Bucky had tossed. The Jackal grabbed your arm. “I need to go, the research team is going to be here soon.”

“Oh sweet little Puppy, you’re not leaving. You’re coming with us, back to the underworld.” Bucky cooed, you felt two large hands seize your throat and squeeze, constricting your throat in his murderous grip. You fought for air, kicking at Steve's legs with your feet as he lifted you off the ground with his strong beefy arms, even below the bandaged you could see the muscles in his arms tense and his veins bulging as he used all his strength to clutch your throat. Darkness bordered your vision as the air drained from your lungs; your floundering and thrashing became more violent, you could feel the adrenaline leaving your body that was slowly growing slack “Shhh, death isn’t scary. It’s fun. You’ll travel through Duat on Ra’s boat, consult with Oris, meet master Anubis and then we can spend eternity together in the stars. Sleep now, Puppy, and when you wake we’ll begin our journey, together.”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @redbloodedgurl @shrekwreck @sweetwrathoflilith @cjand10 @flamefoxxrecs @addie5587483 @little-bunny0523 @sojuxxi @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @itwillgetbetter @cevansgurl @bval-1 @taramaria

Monstertober Day 4:

Somebody’s watching me🦇

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky x Victim!reader

Warnings: Non con→Dub con, near death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, dacryphilia, marking/biting, bruises (not the kinky kind), scratching, aphrodisiac, choking, spiting, making you drink your own blood, utter filth

Nicknames: Bambi, Doll, Deer, Pet

Word count: 2.5k

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺

Have you ever felt like there was a pair of eyes following your every move?

All day that feeling’s been persistently nagging at the back of your mind. Each time you turned around, your eyes frantically scanned your apartment for the traces of the eyes. Nothing. You honestly felt like you were going crazy the entire day; when you were cooking you placed down the vegetable peeler to take the lid off the pasta that was boiling, you couldn’t have been turned around for more than fifteen seconds, you felt warm air blow against your neck and spun around instantly and there was nothing, no one and your vegetable peeler was also gone. You later found it on the coffee table. Odd, that’s all you could really say to abate the panic bubbling inside of you, the agitating feeling that you were not alone in your tiny one bedroom apartment. There was no way that you put that vegetable peeler on that coffee table, you knew that—but you lied to yourself.

As if nothing had happened, you sat down at the coffee table, put on Netflix and drowned out your fears for an hour, relaxed and laughed and now it was time to shower.

Slowly, you slipped off your clothes; shivering at the chilly air as it sends ripples of goosebumps across your skin, your nipples harden and you wrap your towel around yourself protectively, unsure if you’re protecting yourself from the cold or prying eyes. You open the bathroom door, staring out into the corridor one final time before letting out a steady breath and closing it. No one was there. “There's no one here, you’re being silly.” You reassured yourself, letting out a stifled laugh at the notion of someone being in your apartment.

You got in the shower, allowing the hot streams of water to wash away the stress that had plagued you all day. You lifted up your body wash squeezing a generous amount in your hand before spreading it across your body.

Thud

Your blood ran cold.

You turned off the shower, grabbed your towel, swaddled yourself in it and threw open the door to the bathroom “Listen! I know someone’s in here! So you better get the fuck out before I find you!” What were you going to do if you found someone? You had no idea. There was no way you could overpower someone, especially not in your towel.

Silence rang out in your apartment. Maybe you were going absolutely nuts. But it sounded so real.

You stomped through your apartment, heart hammering against your ribcage like a prisoner trying to escape, searching every single room. Throwing open each door one by one; as you did the terror you were feeling began to dissipate. You reached you living room, the rug was a bit dirty, but that was probably just from you spilling some dirt after repotting your plants.

Returning to your shower, you felt confident no one was inside your house. You had thoroughly checked reached individual room of your small apartment; looking behind your sofa, behind tables in the corner, even under your bed which took you a while to type yourself up to do.

You finished your shower, uneventfully, and got into your pjs and staggered over to your bed practically collapsing into it. The storm outside was raging on, rain hammering against your window, you laid on your side staring at the void. Lightning flashed and a rumble of thunder rolled on behind it, making you snuggle further into your heap of blankets. You let your eyes fall closed, listening to the rain.

Scratch

A branch must have been scratching against your window, you tried to ignore it.

Whack

Scratch

You threw your covers off, stomping over to the window and throwing it open to snap the branch. That’s when you realised. There was no tree that close to your window.

You were pushed to the ground by a person that came through your window. Your head hit the carpet as the person caged you in, the rain soaking his clothes from outside dripping onto you “Thanks for letting me back in, Doll.”

Glowing red eyes stared directly into your soul, you slammed your fists into him desperately in an attempt to get him off “Get the fuck off me! Who the hell are you?!” A scream died in your throat when an icy arm snaked around your throat pushing painfully into your trachea and pulling you into his broad chest.

“That is not very nice, I’ve been watching you all day after all. I even helped you clean up your vegetable peeler.” Your eyes grew as wide as dinner plates and your throat went dry at his confession. Hot tears streamed down your face and you opened your mouth to scream but a powerful hand clapped over your mouth “shhh. No need to talk, just relax for me little Bambi.” He steadily let his hand covering your mouth slip to below your chin and turned your head to face him. The harsh blue glow of lightning lit up the room for a brief moment and you were able to see him more clearly. His chiselled features are burned into the back of your eyelids; his chocolate brown hair, his sculpted jaw besprinkled with the beginnings of a beard. He was so enchantingly beautiful.

“You look so beautiful when you cry.” His reddened lips were slightly parted in an impish smile exposing his needle sharp canine teeth that glinted in the fleeting light, the sight of his wolf like canines only deepened your unease “Your heart is pounding Bambi.” He cooed letting out a dark chuckle as he tightened his hold on your throat, pulling you flush against you till his whole being is engulfing you—imprisoning you against his bulky figure, you cough as he squeezes. He lowers his head to the crook of your neck nudging his nose just below your ear and inhaling deeply. The strange man let out a groan in response “Fuck you smell so good, little deer. You’re going to be good for me aren’t you? Gonna be so good for Bucky whilst he eats his fill…In more ways than one.” His tone is honeyed, smooth and so sinfully deep that it allows you to momentarily forget that he is only using one of his arms to hold you in place, also the fact that he climbed through your window which was on the fourth floor. Then you feel something wet and cold lick down your neck before a sharp pain radiates through your shoulder, you wail in response; digging your nails into his hairy arm leaving bloody crescents as you drag them across Bucky’s skin praying that he will let you go.

Your head grows cloudy as he continues to suck, the wet lapping of his tongue against your skin and the sound akin to the slurping of a straw in an empty juice box overpowers the clattering of the rain outside. Uncomfortable heat spreads across your skin, leaving all your limbs tingling. Costively he lowers you to the floor, as he does the whole world feels like it’s tilting on its axis, the room around you is barely visible as your vision swims making your stomach do somersaults as you swallow down the urge to vomit. Your head is pressed sideways against the carpet and you rest on your elbows, knees bent with your ass in the air. The queasy feeling in you subsides and instead melts into a pleasurable throb in between your thighs.

Bucky’s teeth finally leave your neck, but he remains bent over you—his tongue swiping across your skin, collecting the excess blood that’s dripping from the punctures on your neck “God I knew I made the right choice. I could smell you from miles away, I followed the scent and it brought me here. This is the sweetest blood I’ve ever tasted, you’re like a heavenly nectar. My forbidden from the tree in Eden.” He growls, you feel him run his tongue across the holes last time; his head hovers over your neck, mouth open, hot puffs of air warming your skin. He pulls away. “I’ll stop for now, I still want you conscious whilst I fuck you and I need to savour your flavour.”

You slur out a jumbled ‘no’ and ‘fuck off’ in response, but he just titters condescendingly at the state of you; running his hands across your back in an exaggeratedly soothing motion. His hands slink round to your chest, squeezing your breasts before he tears your shirt down the middle in one harsh yank. You shift under him, unintentionally rubbing your ass into his bulge “Where’d all the fight go my frightened little bambi? Did it feel good having a vampire drain you of most of your blood?” Bucky withdraws himself from his position on top of you, removing his arm from the side of your head, instead opting to perch on his knees behind you. Planting both his hands on your hips and pulling you against him, grinding his clothed dick against you dampening pyjama shorts.

“Uhn- feels so good.” You keened into his touch, your previous hesitancy and fear becoming a distant memory, replaced by overwhelming lust that was corrupting your mind. His metal hand meanders down to the thin fabric tearing it and your panties easily, exposing your leaking slit to the cold air leaking in from the open window.

Bucky swiped two of his fingers down your creamy cunt, humming approvingly at the slick “Us vampires have a certain venom in our saliva, you’ll find that this is going to be the best pleasure that you’ve ever experienced. Rather sad, because it's going to be the last you ever feel.” He squeezed your clit between his fingers, toying with the button to hear you pathetic whines “Your pussy is practically drooling for me.” He roughly shoved two large, chilly fingers into you, pistoning them in and out—watching as you hole clenches around them trying to coax them back inside. He scissors his fingers twice before landing a slap on one of your ass cheeks, you yelp, your pussy clamps around his thick fingers. He repeats the action and you clench tighter “Naughty girl, getting turned on from me spanking your ass.” His tone playful and teasing. Bucky slips his fingers out and you whimper at the loss, the burn within you becoming unbearable, your ability to think coherently fading with each passing second—the only thought left behind was of him. Of Bucky and his cock that was going to split you open. You knew it was thick and long, you could feel it against your thigh as he finger fucked you. “Even your juices taste divine, Doll, you were made for me.” You hear him suck his fingers a bit more, before the brief sharp hiss of his jeans zipper being undone puts an end to your needy groaning. You feel the girthy wet tip of his cock circle your quivering hole, goosebumps litter your skin once again as both of his cold hands return to their position at your hips.

He plunges all of his length inside you at once, his thick length stretches you painfully around him.; you’re painfully aware of every inch and vein of his cock. Your toes curl as he continues to pound into you at a ferocious pace, not stopping once for you to adjust to his length. You let out a scream, biting your forearm as he angles his hips making you squeal. A ruthless smack meets your rear, you tighten around him; but even that doesn’t make him falter. His grip on your hips grows tighter, tight enough to break through the stifling pleasure and bring you back to your senses briefly; until another harsh thrust that bashes your cervix knocks you back into your pleasurable slurry—that has you sobbing with every rhythmic thrust. Orgasm builds in your lower gut, you were in sheer bliss as you came on his cock. It was the most mind numbing orgasm you’d ever experienced. Your legs give out below you, but his beefy arm keeps you up. He drapes himself back over you, his pace quickening, thrust becoming more erratic, hungrier as face lingered above your other shoulder. He licked the shell of your ear and pressed wet, hot open mouth kisses to the skin of your neck, the dusting of stubble on his jaw itching your skin; he grunted as his cock twitched inside you. Bucky rammed his hips into yours with one last powerful thrust, then he sank his fangs into your other shoulder.

The agony of the bite granted you a fleeting moment of clarity of what was happening. The fact that a strange man, a vampire, had climbed into your window and taken you against your will and was now sucking you dry of your blood. It all seemed like one convoluted dream, no, a nightmare. But these thoughts faded just as quickly as they flashed in your mind, instead they liquefied into a sea of nothingness. No thoughts, just feelings. A delightful, spine tingling, lip biting sensation that flooded your whole body, making you a pliable, moaning, dribbling mess below the vampire that was mauling your shoulder. You couldn’t feel the blood trickling down your chest or the barbaric way his teeth dug into every square inch of your neck and shoulder. You were on the brink of death and yet you put up no fight, you were revelling in the ecstasy that was muddling your brain. He was killing you so softly “You taste so good, best thing I’ve ever tasted. I’m so glad I followed your scent, Bambi.” Bucky pulled himself off your shoulder and slipped out of your tight heat, grabbing your arm and flipping you onto your back. His eyes stared down into yours; your pupils blown wide as you laid delirious mouth hanging open dumbly. He spat into your mouth; then glided his fingers over the blood running down your tit and shoved it into your mouth, wiping the blood on to your tongue “Swallow it, Pet, and be mine forever.”

You did as he said and reality grew clearer. You looked at him cluelessly “What?” You croaked, voice strained from screaming.

His cold hand stroked your face and he hushed you, a smile that did not reach his eyes contorting his features “I made you a Blood slave, Bambi, so I can feast on you forever. Forever and Always.”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @redbloodedgurl @teambarnes72 @shrekwreck @sweetwrathoflilith @cjand10 @flamefoxxrecs @addie5587483 @little-bunny0523 @tenpointsforbucky @sojuxxi @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @itwillgetbetter

Playing hard to get 🐰🐺

Main pairing: Biker!Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Summary: You’re new to Brooklyn, working in a small dinner. You just want a quiet life, that’s until he walks in with his gang. You forget everything Natasha just told you about the Howling Commandos, the most dangerous biker gang in Brooklyn, and you go right up to them and serve them. Little did you know you’d just opened Pandora’s box and threw your self into the arms of Brooklyns most prolific mob boss, Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: dub con (but the reader is into it), slightly non con, size difference, Beefy!Bucky (he’s 6,2), city wolf! Bucky, country bunny!reader, Bucky’s metal arm, forced oral (male receiving), forced Public sex, humiliation, restraints/bdsm/ropes, brat taming, hair pulling, scent kink, cunnilingus, overstimulation, threat of violence, knife play, begging, asphyxiation/ choking, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, lactation kink, marking, hickeys, cream pie, praise, good ending

Nicknames: Bunny, Bunbun, Bun, Bitch, Mine, Slut

Overall word count: 9.4k

AN: I thought my most popular series finally deserved a master list of its own, I’m so glad so many of you love this series. I originally wrote it from a few prompts my friend gave me, but then it turned into a series. This Master list comes with a special announcement that I’m writing some spin-offs for this series! I can’t wait to explore this world more, I hope you are too.

༻ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🎀 𝐀𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 ༺

Chapters: 3/3

1/3 (The Diner)

2/3 (The Restaurant)

3/3 (Restrained)

Drabbles:

Coming soon (accepting asks/thots)

Spin-offs:

Safer in my arms- Biker!Steve x Socialite!Reader -Coming soon

Pay Up- Biker!Ari Levinson x In debt!Reader -Coming soon

Caught you snooping- Biker!Curtis Everett x Detective!Reader - Coming soon

Monstertober Day 2:

My Legacy

Pairing: Orc!Bucky x Captured!Reader

Warnings: Non con→Dub con, Dead dove: Do not eat, insults/degrading language, forced breeding, forced impregnation, drastic size difference, belly bulge, blood mention, virgin!reader, hair pulling, cowgirl→mating press, dacryphilia, dark!bucky, threat of violence, aphrodisiac

Nicknames: Tiny, little one, cum slut

Word count: 2.4 k

Monstertober master list

Master list

Tag list🎀

This has been long awaited, I know everyone loves Orc!Bucky, me too honestly. Enjoy.

A colossal, herculean man loomed over you, he was built from slabs of muscles that shifted under his thick layers of green skin. His bulging forearms, decorated with tribal tattoos, half concealed by a pair of tanned leather bracers, lined with fur; the designs carved into the leather matched his ornate iron pauldrons, slightly covered by the reddish-brown pelt of a direwolf, and the only thing covering his lower half was a loin cloth attached to a metal belt adorned with his tribe’s insignia. His eyes narrowed in a scowl, but despite this you could see his golden eyes, with flecks of amber and a vertical slit for a pupil—reminiscent of a cat's eyes. They were trained on you, hunched between the cart and barrels “How unfortunate Tiny. Should have hid better than that.” His meaniscing tone sends a ripple of goosebumps across your skin, a scream bubbles up to your throat and dies there as he reaches out for you. You scramble away from his enormous juniper hand, the lighter skin of his palm filling your vision before he opts for grabbing you by the waist and pulling you out “Gods above I can smell chu ‘ittle one. You’re terrified out your tiny little brain, but you're still so wet for me. If you play nice, I won’t have to hurt chu.” You consider chomping down on the web of skin connecting his thumb and forefinger, but Orcs are known for their tough skin, you decide not to. You stare up at the monster before you through your long lashes, tears streaming down your cheeks “Good, Tiny human. My true name is too complicated for your kind to understand or pronounce, so you can call me Bucky. I am War chief of this clan of Orcs, it will do you well to listen or I’ll pass you to the others. They ain’t too kind to little tiny girls like chu.” He begins to walk with you, pushing you to his beefy chest like a mother holding a baby close, your hands grab for purchase at the direwolf pelt strung across his shoulders; the feeling of the fur in your hands and the familiar scent brings you solace as he carries you over to a large group of orcs, one with blonde hair turns towards Bucky smiling with his tusks on full display, you cower at the sight—you know exactly what those tusks can do, you’ve watched them tear people like parchment “Steve, I’m going to head back to camp with a small group. You stay here. Kill any survivors, pillage whatever’s left, return by nightfall.” The Orc named Steve nods and replies in a strange serious of grunts, to which Bucky also replies in the same manner. They he’s walking again, he stops infront of an orcish warhorse—specially breed to be taller and stronger than normal horses to with stand the sheer size of the orcs— then he climbs on with you held in one arm

“Where are we going?” You whisper near his ear

“To your new home ‘ittle one.”

The ride back to the camp isn’t a long one, you slept for most of it as your adrenaline finally died down or you’d fallen into a state of shock. At this point you had no idea. When you awoke you’d arrived at what he called ‘your new home’ There were countless Orcs, they barely used any of their troops to conquer your village. The feeling of hopelessness rose in you once again.

“‘ere we are, Pet. Home sweet home.” He got off the horse and handed the reins off to another orc to be taken care of. He spoke to the orc bostriously with enthusiasm, smiling so wide you thought one of his tusks would like your eye out. Then he strode off decisively through the thicket of tents. He was taking you home, to his home. Not yours. He burnt yours down, he murdered your family. You hated the fact that seeing him smile and talking so happily, despite you being unable to understand what he was saying, made you happy. His attitude was contagious.

You approached a tent that was much larger than the others, it was also dyed a faded black compared to the other plain tents. It had two lit torches on each side of the pegs keeping it up and on the tent door was the same insignia that was on his belt, but this was painted in red—the colour of blood which he was so accustomed to spilling. You had to hate him, you needed to hate him.

He pushed aside the cloth entrance revealing a very spacious tent decorated in a sporadic manner with a large table that had a map splayed on its surface, your eyes shot down to all the red markers on it. One was on your village. They had planned this and nobody knew, fresh tears welled up in your eyes and you bit your wobbling lip, but a whimper still slipped. “This is your new home princess,” he wiped the tears from your eyes with one of his thick green fingers “so don’t cry anymore. It’s all gonna be okay. If you listen, everything will be fine. Now,” he placed you on the ground and walked over to a pile of things in the corner. He turned to face you before pulling out a shotel from behind him, but this shotel was the largest one you’d ever seen; the blade was unbelievably sharp, it was obvious that he’d spent hours sharpening, cleaning and customising it. Your legs collapsed beneath you as he pointed the curved blade at you, the point resting below your chin. Tears leaked from your eyes like a flowing river, you let out a whine as he hoovered it so close to your skin that you could feel the coolness of the blade “Move and I’ll cleave your skull in half. Understood?” Your vision shook as you meet his steely glare

“Y-yes.” You blubbered, he removed the blade and pulled out a chair from the long oaken table. The chair was much larger than a normal chair, obviously hand made for orcs by orcs—no scratch that, handmade for him. The chair was even bigger than all the others, it was made for Bucky, it was made for the war chief who towered above even other orcs. He plopped down in it, the twine holding it together creaking under his substantial weight, and opened his legs slightly clapping his massive bejeweled green hands down on his muscular bulging thighs.

“Come ‘ere little one. Sit on my lap.” He commanded, spinning the shotel on its blade on the hard packed dirt next to him. When you sat frozen, on the floor, he raised the blade towards you “I know you ain’t deaf. I don’t like repeatin’ myself.” You pressed your hands either side of your thighs and pushed yourself to your feet, your legs shook as you stumbled over. He extended out a massive green hand, you took it noting how your hand could only wrap around two of his fingers. Your line of sight travelled down to his dick. It was huge. Straining against the thin fabric of his loincloth. Straining so much that you could see all its features; dark green with lighter sections of skin, ribbed, with a thick gold ring pierced through the thin skin just under the head. There was no way he’d fit.

He helped you climb onto him, practically pulling you up by your arm which was dwarfed in his grasp. You straddled his lap, sat right in front of his bulging cock. Once you were in place he undid the opulent belt keeping the loin cloth in place and pulled. With one swift movement the belt and the loin cloth were both removed and thrown to the ground. His member was now on full display; girthy, long and definitely not able to fit inside you. You paled at the sight of it throbbing and leaking “It won’t fit!” You cried, attempting to run. He grabbed your arm just before you fel to the ground and pulled you back in place. You struggled against him, floundering like a fish drowning on land “Please! Anything else! You’re gonna kill me!” His hand clasped around your face as he reached back with his free arm and came back with a hefty glass bottle filled with a shimmering clear liquid.

“Breath, Pet. I ain’t expecting it to fit in you without a little help, little one.” He uncorked it with one hand and finally removed his hand from your mouth, you relished in the woodsy scent. He poured a generous amount on his hand “Take yer clothes off. Or I’ll rip ‘em off.” He ordered sternly, you met his gaze. His cat eye pupils had blown wide, filled with lust and need. You obliged, stripping off your dirty, torn clothes that smelt heavily of smoke. You swallowed your vomit as you recollected the state of your village.

His huge green hand began slathering the liquid on your pussy, it was warm. The heat coming off of the orc had heated it in such a short period of time, your eyes met his cock again. The heat of it was slightly darker green with a bluish cast, his balls were heavy and full. Your mouth was almost watering. You were pulled from you from your blatant ogling from the sting of a finger being inserted inside you. You yelped, grabbing at his thick wrist with your small hands “It hurts!” You yowled, beating at his calloused palm with your fist, he began moving his finger and the pain slowly melted into pleasure. You hummed at the heat filling your belly “Mhmn.”

“You’re a virgin aren’t you little one, there’s blood.” He cooed, slipping another finger. Which your quivering hole gladly took. You nodded slowly, whimpering as he stretched you, scissoring his fingers “Were gonna fix that. The Oil is enchanted, it should help you be able to take me, it’s also an aphrodisiac.” His words swam in your mind becoming almost meaningless as you pushed back on his fingers until you met his rings at the base of his thick, lengthy fingers.

Suddenly he pulled his fingers out, you whimpered at the loss humping his thigh for friction. You needed more. You wanted Bucky in you “Buck. Want you in me.” You mewl, grinding your sensitive bud down on the thick skin of his thigh

“Gladly.” He lifts you as if you weigh nothing and holds you above his dick, smiling coyly at your lopped sided grin and hazy eyes before slamming you down on his fat cock. The pain momentarily breaks your gaze but then the overwhelming feeling of his humongous prick filling your insides. Your hands travel to the bulge in your stomach, running your hands over it. Marvelling at it as he thrusts in and out. The meaty slaps of Bucky bouncing you roughly up and down on his lap filled the tent, more likely than not the sound was spilling outside. You didn’t care, right now you didn’t have the liberty to think much at all with his fat cock muddling up your insides. Your tongue fell dumbly out your mouth as you dribbled mumbling and moaning with every harsh thrust “That’s it, Pet, go dumb on my massive Orc cock. Never gonna want a human after this, they can’t fill you up like an orc. How pathetic. You deserve an Orcs cock to bring you this. Much. Pleasure.” He punctuated his words with his thrusts, bashing your cervix each time. You threw your head back in a silent wail, digging your nails into his large pecs as you relished in the orgasm that wracked your body. Constricted his cock, drawing a deep, primal grunt from his core “Yes! Come! Come as many times as you want pet, soak my cock in your juices my little cockslut. Gonna get you pregnant, gonna paint you fucking tight little slut hole with my seed. Gonna watch you swell with my children. Take it.” He groaned slamming into you with a new found vigour, picking you up as he stood.

You barely even registered him laying you on the bed until he pushed back your knees, resting them near your ears. You thought it impossible but he dick managed to nestle itself even further inside of you. An electric shock ran through your body as you came again, the pleasure being tears to your eyes as his thrust became more erratic, more powerful. His face loomed above yours staring intensely into your eyes “Gonna make you a mother, Tiny. You want to be the mother of my children? You want to grow with my child? You want to birth My Legacy?” He asked, “Answer me.” He demanded pounded into your cunt, his balls smacking against your ass, twitching, as he pushed down on your bent knees.

“Yes! Make me a mommy!” You cried, squeezing around him as he came inside you, he continued to thrust as he shot ropes and ropes of cum into you. Your stomach swelling with the sheer amount of spend shooting from his spasming tip.

“Ah feels so fucking good. Look at you, your body can barely contain my cum.” He chuckled, huffing, sweat glistening on his forehead as he littered your reddened face, ruined with tears and spit with passionate open mouth kisses.

“Felt good, wanna nap.” You yawned, your body tremouring from the overstimulation, your clit puffy and sensitive as his pelvis pressed into you enrolling you completely, blocking out almost all the light in the tent.

A hearty chuckle emerges from him, the sound fills your ears making more slick drip from your cunt onto his cock still buried in your overflowing pussy “Oh, we ain’t done yet, Pet. Gotta make sure you’re nice and pregnant, gonna fuck ya till I make ya look pregnant; so everyone knows who you belong to, that I have claimed you and that they can never touch you. ‘Cause you’re gonna have my babies, I’ll keep you filled and wanton on my cock ‘cause we Orcs mate for life after all, Tiny, and I’ve chosen you to be the bearer of My legacy.”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @redbloodedgurl @teambarnes72 @shrekwreck @sweetwrathoflilith @cjand10 @bunnyscraft @flamefoxxrecs @addie5587483

Monstertober Day 1:

The Big Bad Wolf

Pairing: Dark!Werewolf!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Dub con, Dead dove: Do not eat, chasing, sex in a forest, scratching, biting, belly bulge, angst, near death, dacryphilia, bruises (not the kinky kind), begging (for him to stop), apologetic Bucky, beefy!bucky, lumberjack!bucky

Nicknames: Bunny

Word count: 3.1k

Monstertober master list

Master list

Tag list🎀

Happy October 1st everyone! Nothing like a little werewolf!Bucky to get you in the spirit. See you all on the 5th of October for Orc!Bucky🎃

The setting sun cast its orange glow upon Bucky’s chiseled face, emphasising his sharp features. He’s staring out into the assortment of trees, some turning yellow, some turning a deep red and others a mix of both. His breath sent out a cloud of smoke that twirled in the air. You couldn’t focus on the picturesque landscape before you with Bucky here, your eyes scanned over his toned arms bulging out of his plaid shirt’s rolled up sleeves. His entire body was unfair, those hours of chopping wood and building things had really paid off. His slightly tanned skin glistened in the sunset. He turned towards you, smirking at the fact he caught you staring “looks like someone’s got a staring problem, Bunny.” He chuckles, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.

You pout “I think Sam would say the same about you.” You retort, deviously. Bucky sighs rolling his eyes

“Do you have to mention that punk? I have to deal with him all week long at the lumberyard, I do not want to even think about him when I’m with you up here.” He frowns, looking back out into the distance. You giggle at his stroppiness.

Time to change the subject, you decide “It’s a full moon tonight, maybe we’ll see some wolves up here orrrrr” you stared at him intensely “a werewolf!” You giggled at your words, Bucky did not laugh, you pouted at him.

“It’s not a full moon tonight.” He stated firmly, his voice tremors slightly—to just anyone it wouldn’t be noticable, but you knew Bucky. Something was off. You stopped laughing, opening your eyes and slowly turning back towards him.

“Yeah it is, I have the moon chart right here on my phone.” You reached into your pocket and began flicking through your photo gallery “It’s fine, Bucky, werewolves aren't real if that’s what you’re worried about.” You finally found it, and sure enough you were correct; tonight was a full moon “See! Boom! Full moon, I told you it was. I remember checking, because was so excited. I’ve never been out this far from the city on a full moon, I bet it’s gonna be so beautiful. I can’t wait, especially because I’m with you.” You muttered the last part, casting your gaze down to Bucky’s rough, working hands. You’d watched him chop wood just a few hours earlier. The way his large calloused hands gripped the handle of the axe made your mind race and your body grow hot, you wanted him so badly. You stroked his knuckles, he was so warm.

“You need to go. Now.” His voice came out in almost a growl, you picked up his hand. He pulled it away “Leave. Get as far as you can.” He warned. You looked at him with pure confusion, your heart hurt at his rejection.

The sky grew darker, fading into a pale navy, the moon was bright tonight, its glow already piercing through the slowly dissipating clouds. You tried to find words to argue with him, your eyes burning with tears, you tried to blink them away. It had been going so well “Bucky? What’s up with you.” You turned back towards him, his nostrils flared out in anger. He was panting heavily, constantly moving, unable to sit still. His eyes were darker than usual and his entire face was coated in a thin sheen of sweat “Are you feeling alright? Should I call an ambulance? You don’t look well.”

Your hands grew sweaty and your stomach bubbled with nerves. Bucky let out a grunt and a skin crawling crackle rang out, his body began to grow—his shirt tearing at the seams and white tuffs of pelt spewing out of the rips. You watch, body frozen in horror as he morphs into a white beast before your eyes. Adrenaline prickles in your belly as you take in the sight before you. His hand you had just been holding were now partly paw, covered in white fur. His handsome jaw, dusted in stubble, had converted into a white furry maw with a shiny black nose on the end and rows of sharp, carnivorous teeth. His greyish blue eyes that you adored staring into were gone, replaced by reflective almond shaped yellow irises that glowered at you, sizing you up like you were an actual bunny. You shrunk in on yourself as you stumbled to your feet.

“GO!” He bellowed, letting out a pained groan as his transformation completed itself. The last of his shirt tore off him and he stood from the deck. His furious glare met your eyes as you stood dumbfounded at the literally werewolf in front of you. You fumbled in your pockets for your keys, he let out a deep hole and your hands shook, your keys fell from your hands. You had no time. You were face to face with your demise.

You set off into the thicket of trees, cursing yourself for dropping your keys. A sob caught in your throat, as you ran as fast as your legs could take you. You could hear him behind you, twigs snapping beneath his monstrous white paws; crushing them so easily, the image of you breaking beneath him just as easily flashed in your mind. Him snapping your arms under his weight. the agony. Him cracking your ribs as he tore out your trachea with his canines. The vinegary taste of vomit rose into your mouth, you reluctantly swallowed. The crisp forest air made you dizzy as you desperately drank down oxygen, shielding your face from the heaps of brambles that you sprinted through.

The towering blue firs stretched endlessly into the horizon, some thick and ancient others thin, weedy and new. It was only half an hour ago that Bucky had toured you through these woods; he had pointed out marks carved into the trees by previous wonders of this forest, before it had been sold as a plot of land. He told you about the history, he spoke of men, women and children with sepia skin and the horrors they had befallen at the hand of colonisers. But that was all behind you now. Now you were close to becoming history, you could hear his ragged breathing flitting around you as he dashed through trees, as you turned your head back you could see his white fur darting between the foliage. His coat as white as driven snow.

You smacked into the ground, head colliding with the packed, solid dirt slightly hidden by its crispy carpet of orange, yellow and brown. White hot pain ran through your forearms, you swiped your hands over the scraped skin on both. Blood slowly emerging from the pink fleshy wounds. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears

Thump

Thump

Thump

Your lungs burned as you took in gulps of air, you tried to get your feet. You couldn’t. You let out a yelp as you attempted to stand, your eyes flew to your ankle; the skin already tinged purple and red. You hesitantly stroked it, you let out an involuntary whimper and withdrew your hand, offended by your own touch.

Thump

Thump

Crack

Your fate dawned upon you. You swivelled your head around rapidly. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear the low grumble that echoed through the forest. You stared up at the moon. Its buttermilk shine in full intensity, almost blinding, peering through the tree tops at your pathetic state. Mocking you with its beauty. Your vision swims as you snivel at your dejected, miserable state. Werewolves aren’t real. This has to be some sick joke, but you’d seen him turn. You heard his bones crackle and pop as he grew into a humanoid wolf.

You hoped you’d wake up soon from this nightmare.

Crunch

Your head spun to the left, but before your eyes could even focus—he was on top of you. The weight of him pushed you back into the forest floor. You began thrashing against his paws grip, could you even call them paws? They were his hands, rough and calloused but now they had thick black pads on the palms. So familiar, yet unfamiliar. The familiarity brang you reassurance, but the thick tufts of fur tickling your arms brought you unease and foreboding. One of his hands keeps you in place, shoving you painfully into the ground, the pressure making it hard to breath, his claw rips through your thin shorts with ease. His thick black claws cut through the fabric like butter. His nail catches on the globe of one of your ass cheeks, you hiss in pain and try to pull away from him. It’s futile. He warns you against moving with a growl “James. James, please, please stop, I'm begging you. Please.” You plead . He continues, disregarding your whines, shoving himself between your legs, the cold snuffling of his nose is contrasted by warm saliva dripping from his mouth onto your slit. You whimper and close your legs, but his paw grabs your thigh and holds your legs open. His rough paw pad scratched your soft skin and he sunk his claws into your thigh “Ow! Fuck! Bucky!” You yelled, kicking at him with your foot. You regret your action instantly, pain shooting through your sprained ankle. Bucky grumbles and sits on the foot, you let out a deafening scream, the agony making your vision flash white “Get off!” You demand beating your fists into the ground. To your surprise he did, his head returning in between your legs, his muzzle nudging your inner thigh. You heard him take a long inhale before pressing his cold, wet nose to your entrance. His tongue flopped out of his mouth, licking a long stripe from your clit all the way to your ass. He snarled softly and began to feast on your pussy. Despite the pain you were wet, you dug your nails into the dirt below you moaning as his tongue brushed your clit.

It’s just Bucky. You tried to assure yourself, it wasn’t working.

You couldn’t help the dread that ran through you as his thick, rough tongue unskillfully lapped at your pussy. The licks were long and slow, they were not prioritising your pleasure. Instead it was his own form of savouring you, you were a meal to him. You bit down on your bottom lip painfully, he was going to kill you, wasn’t he? Eat you, leave nothing but bone. More tears slipped down your cheeks, your hair clinging to the wet salty trails—tickling at your eyes. His tongue plunged into your hole eliciting a squeak from you in response to the intrusion, you shifted below his grip and he growled; you could feel his tongue vibrate inside of you, his teeth pressing into your lips as he shoved himself further between your legs. His tongue travels deeper into you. You could feel it graze your cervix as he swallowed all your juices. Warm pleasure grew in you belly replacing the sickness that was rising, you were going to come on this monster's tongue.

It’s just Bucky. You assured yourself, this time it helped.

You raised your hips and pressed yourself into him, he let out a happy rumbling in response as he continued to eat your pussy with vigour “gonna come! Ahh- Bucky!” You keened, the vibrations from his purring sending you over the edge. Your slick soaked his muzzle as you came harder than you ever had before. Bucky had always been skilled at eating you out, but his tongue now was unbeatable.He pulled his tongue out and you collected any remaining juices before pulling away. The frigid night breeze blew against your dripping cunt sending a shiver through you.

You felt his thick heavy cock rest against your back, it was scalding hot dripping with precum. You didn’t need to see it to know that it wasn’t going to fit. Just the feeling of the shaft alone, almost as girthy as a coke can. You were mortified “It’s not going to fit! Bucky!” You insisted, pushing on your elbows to get up. He gave a light push between your shoulder blades and you were back on the ground. The small stones and sticks digging into the red impressions already on your cheeks. Bucky let out a snarl, before lining the head of his dick up to your entrance, his hands—borderline paws— push on your shoulders as he thrusted into you. Even after your orgasm, he barely fit. He ruts himself into you with short, shallow thrusts coaxing you open. Pain shots through you with every inch that tears you open. “A-a-ahh!” Your howl. You were sure he was going to rip you in two. He groaned as he bottomed out, he was crammed uncomfortably inside. He couldn’t fit it all inside at this angle. He pulled out and let out a feral growl, that shook you to your core as he began to fuck you. He set a brutal pace, slamming his hips into your repeatedly as roughly as possible. You were so impossibly full. Despite the pain and terror, pleasure began to rise in your hips and knot forming inside you.

He leaned over you, his furry chest flush against your arching back. You felt the point of his sharp teeth glide against your skin and you felt him sniffing at your throat, his hot breath fanning at the back of your neck and the cold dampness of his nose grazing the curve of your neck. You pray he’ll realise it’s you. That he’ll pull out. It was still so painful “James…?” You question in a hushed voice. He doesn’t respond, instead he sinks his teeth into your shoulder and you screech, flailing on the ground against the crushing grip of his claws, kicking up the dirt underneath your feet. His wet, scorching tongue laps at the blood running out of the fresh wounds hungrily and you whimper from the pain that pulses through you every single time. His wolf-like ears turned at the sound he rubbed his snout into your neck, almost as if he was trying to soothe you. His blood stained tongue drinks up the tears sliding down your cheeks “Jamie?” You sob, your pussy involuntarily clenches around him as he moves hips. The bulbous head of his cock collides with your cervix painfully once again. Then he wraps one of his arms fully around your torso and pulls you up so that you are sat straddled on his lap. Your hands fly around his broad neck, grabbing at his fur so as to not fall off of him. In this position his full length fit inside you, you had thought you were full before but now you felt so stuffed, so full of him. The length of him was torturous. You look down at where you’re connected, but the sight of his cock bulging inside of you captures your attention. One of his paws moves from your hips and strokes at the protrusion. He lets out a primal growl and nips at the other side of your throat. If you survived the night you were going to be covered in bites, bruises and scars. This night was going to follow you for the rest of your life. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to face him again.

His claws cut into your hips, the marks prickling with fresh blood and he squeezes down with a bruising grip. You feel him getting larger inside of you, then reality hits. His knot. He was going to knot you. You threw your head into his shoulder, your hands flying to his head scratching desperately. Whimpering at your impending doom. He let out what sounded like a chuckle at your thrashing, the look he gave you almost as if to say “let it happen bunny.” Your lip wobbled and you shrieked as you felt your hole catch on the expanding knot at the base of his cock “no, mercy, please.” You cried, burying you head into his hairy muscular chest, he still smelt the same

It’s just Bucky. It’s just Bucky.

Your chant wasn’t working as the burning pain from your hole cleared your head of any thoughts. A scream from deep within you left your mouth, as your body made an effort to adjust to his growing size. You bit down on the skin of his coarse chest to muffle your cries, his long white fur glueing to your tongue. The texture disgusts you, but the pain overrides it. The pain overrides everything, even the brief pleasure you felt as he fucked into you was now replaced by pain. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, his fiery white glowing eyes haunting you even with your eyes closed.

Your eyes shoot open, you bare your teeth groaning at the pain as his knot catches on your hole. His pace becomes sloppy. He’s close, so very close. You throw your head back, the knot inside you snapping, sending a pulse of heat through your entire being as he finally locks inside you; his knot expanding to full size as he paints your insides with his cum, there’s so much. Too much. Your stomach swells with how much cum he pumps into you. You can feel it leaking out of you as he continues to come, moving his hips as much as he can while being trapped inside. Tears leak from your eyes and spit dribbles from your mouth, you can’t help your walls fluttering around him. So overstimulated, so much pain. It’s all become one. The world around you starts to fade away as he lays back, allowing you to be splayed out on his chest. Your body is numb as he twists you so you can bury your face into him. The heat radiating off of him brings you solace as the last bit of adrenaline fades.

“What the fuck happened last night?” He questioned groggily, tousling his hair sleepily. He shielded his eyes from the early morning sun.

Why the fuck could he see the sun?

His blood ran cold. He felt something lying on top of him, his eyes hesitantly drifted below him “Holy shit. Bunny?” He sat up, your body was limp, but warm. Then he took in the state of you. The giant bite mark on your throat, the leaves and twigs tangled in your hair, cuts and bruises adorned your skin “Y/N…?” His voice wobbled, he stroked his rough knuckles over the dark black and purple bruise circling your right eye. Bucky whimpered, his enhanced hearing allowed him to hear your heartbeat. It was weak and laboured. He picked you up in his arms and cuddled you close. Your eyes opened slowly.

“Buck?” You questioned, his heart clenched at your hoarse little voice. You sounded so innocent, so confused and a tad scared.

“I’m right here Bunny. The scary wolf is gone. Bucky’s gonna protect you. I’m gonna make this right I promise.” You smiled contently.

It’s just Bucky after all.

Tag list:

@alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @cjand10 @sweetwrathoflilith @shrekwreck @redbloodedgurl @teambarnes72

Thanatosis 🦋

Part 1 : Holometabolous metamorphosis🦋

thanatosis- commonly known as ‘playing dead’ or tonic immobility, is a protective behaviour of animals and insects in which all voluntary activity is ceased and posture suggesting death is assumed. it occurs when disturbed.

Pairing: soft! Mafia! Biker! Bucky x innocent! victim! reader → dark! Mean! Mafia Biker! Bucky

Warnings: Non con, Stockholm syndrome, victim blaming (reader blames themselves), crying, pleading, abandonment issues, alcohol, name calling, dark!Bucky, mean!Bucky, Beefy!Bucky, innocent!reader, manipulation, abuse, bruises (not the kinky kind), thoughts of suicide, dacryphilia, punching, slapping, mentions of blood, heavy angst, fluff (at one point then it’s downhill from there)

Nicknames: бабочка (butterfly), stupid, ugly, worthless, whore, dumb, crybaby

The relationship depicted is not healthy at all. If you are experiencing a situation similar to this, please contact an abuse hotline, womens shelter or your doctor who can get you help. Stay safe.

༻ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐬𝐤𝐬 ༺

I am where I belong. My eyes drift open. I’m not on the floor. I’m not in my apartment, my cocoon. Instead I run my hand over fresh, expensive iron coloured sheets, I smell the air. Musky magnolia wood. I tap next to me, the bed is empty. But it’s warm. I swivel my head anxiously, but I’m alone. I plant my hands either side of me and push myself up, the world around me is fuzzy and my head buzzes painfully. I’m not dead. He saved me. He loves me. I need him.

The door clicks open, and in walks Bucky holding a cup of coffee. His sculpted jaw is set in a solemn expression, but his lips pull into a smile when his eyes meet mine “бабочка you're awake.” His voice is hoarse and just above a whisper, he sounds as if he’s been crying. He cautiously steps forward, scanning his eyes over me for any movement. I throw the cover off and practically leap off the bed “please, doll, I won’t hurt you. I should have never come near you whilst I was like that, I become a completely different person.” His reasoning stops as I limp around the bed and attach myself to his leg. He places the coffee down and attempts to remove me, but my grip tightens on his thick calf and my sobs grow louder as I let out incoherent pleads for him to stay. For him to never leave me again, promises that I would be good, I would be better, I would be whatever he needs, that I was stupid, that I was forever his.

We sit there for what feels like forever, on the carpeted floor. He rocks me back and forth gently, trying to console me, trying to stop my pleas. I do stop eventually, when he strokes my hair and holds me in his arms like a small child; whispering sweet nothings to me apologising like a prayer, his salty tears dripping down on to my face joining my snot and tears that leak on to the fresh clothes he’d put me in. He tries to wipe at the damp spot, but I nuzzle further into him, body weak, tiny next to his, shaking like a tree in a hurricane holding on to him for stability “I’m going to be better to you бабочка. You didn’t deserve that, okay? It wasn’t good, it wasn’t what you deserved; you’re precious I need to protect you my beautiful, beautiful fragile little butterfly.” His butterfly…I’ve always been his butterfly he thinks I’m beautiful he wants to protect me, my fresh wings are still unfurling. I’ve been born a new from my cocoon and now my life begins with Bucky. Bucky is good, I belong to Bucky “Are you okay now бабочка?” He asked, his face full of concern as I stared helplessly up at him, my eyes puffy, full of tears and face red nodding slowly. He stoops his neck and kisses me with all the tenderness and passion that was void from last night. The coldness that had seeped into my bones from being abandoned on my glum, dingy bathroom floor began to subside as Bucky’s tongue explored my mouth with his hot tongue. His kisses had always made me breathless, but now his hypnotising effect was doubled. I craved him so intensely.

I grabbed at his grey crew neck with my small hands, rubbing the fabric between my fingers as I pulled him even closer “Bucky.” I mewled, breaking gtg kiss and buryin fly face in the crook of his neck taking in his musky scent.

“I’ll never hurt you again бабочка, I promise you.”

It had been days since I’d first woken up in his bed and now it was an everyday occurance, he’d decided he didn’t want me staying in my apartment anymore, citing the bad memories and how depressing the space was as his reason. The past few days had been the best, he had cuddled with me on the couch continuously—wrapping me in soft blankets, kissing me constantly, always touching me in some way. Always praising me. Always telling me how much he loved me. He had to go out tonight to meet with the members of the gang, he told me not to call it that; he constantly says they’re not gangsters— though the whole of Brooklyn and the people he hangs out with would say otherwise. He wants to protect me, not to scare me…so thoughtful I remark.

The front door slams shut, I hear the sound of Bucky’s keys being tossed into the bowl on the chest of draws near the door. I turn off the TV, slip out of my cocoon of blankets and head for the door to see Bucky, pure adoration in my eyes. He’s kicking off his shoes, he looks up to see me and there is none of the usual warmth in his face. Blood is dripping from his temple, he has a cut across the bridge of his nose and his hair is dark and wet with sweat. His hands are trembling. No they’re thrumming. He’s furious, his breath is ragged like an animal sizing up its prey. His flame is burning brighter, harsher, hotter than ever. The adoration slips away. “бабочка. Come here.” He commands in a growl, I’m frozen staring at him like a deer in headlights. The smell of whiskey and a blend of other alcoholic beverages reaches my noses causing it to rinkle, he’s been drinking again. He promised not to “бабочка! I said come here are you FUCKING DEAF YOU WHORE?” He bellowed as he threw his suit jacket to the wooden floor. I took off down the hall to the bathroom, the only room with a lock. He caught up with me easily, slamming my head into the door as my hands desperately shook the knob trying to get it open. The pain from the impact sent shockwaves of dull pain across my nerves and caused white dots, dripping with colour to blot my vision. The door swung open and Bucky crashed into the floor, I clung to the door. I can lock him in. I pulled the door closed, but his fingers wrapped around it trying to pry it open as I was shutting it. I smashed his fingers in the door frame and he howled in response, using all of his strength—which was much more than mine—to slam the door into the wall. I’d failed, my only chance to get away. My face heated up tears blurring my vision as my lip wobbled pathetically just like my legs. They were jelly below me.

“No Bucky. No.” I cried fighting against his tight grip on my forearm, scratching at his face. He bit down on my finger. I screamed as he pushed me to the ground.

“Bedroom or here Bitch?” He asked lacing his fingers into my hair as I pummelled at his knees “FUCKING ANSWER ME!” Bucky demanded tugging at my hair enough to tear out strands. I yelp and weep in response, digging my nails into his forearm. Clawing at him. Begging for him to let me go “Fine. We’re doing it here.” He huffed releasing my hair and shoving my head into the ground. I was laying half way between the hallway and the bathroom, I tried to crawl away. Raking my nails across the wood, the awful scratching sound drowned by the deafening thump of my blood rushing past my ears. He grabbed my legs, bending them at the knee and pushing them painfully till the ball of my heels dug into my butt. He pressed harder into my bent legs as he draped himself over me, pressing his face to my ear, the beginnings of scruff on his jaw scratching the shell of my ear. “Try to get away and I’ll snap your little legs like chopsticks.” He threatened, spitting in my face as he rose back up, tearing my shirt in half and throwing it. I began to sob as he let me lay there helplessly on the ground, splayed out like a starfish on the beach. He tore my underwear as well, tossing the torn fabric carelessly like a used rag. I choked out painful sobs, as a tangle of cries and pleas ached in my throat trying to crawl out of my open, dribbling mouth. He shoved his fingers inside me roughly, causing a burn to radiate through me. It was so dry down there. He scissored his fingers twice before giving up and spitting on his cock, pumping his hand across his length a few times. That’s when the last sparks of adrenaline kicked in. I kicked him where it hurt, he yowled in agony as my foot connected with his balls. I clumsily got to my feet, pain shooting through my legs with every floundering step. I clung to the wall limping towards the front door. It was so close. I could fly free.

The flame burnt my wings. His fist connected with my temple and I collided with the oak wood, I traced the wood grain with my finger as my thoughts faded away. It’s Hopeless, like me. He turned me over and my unfocused eyes met his intense dark glare, his eyes were verging on black as his blue iris was swallowed by his insatiable black holes of pupils. The punches began. He pounded my stomach ruthlessly, then he threw a jab at my already bruised ribs, the metallic taste of iron rose in my throat and I coughed. Blood and spit smeared on my chin. He moved up to my face, slapping it over and over with the front and back of his hand—at least he isn’t wearing rings today— is the only thing that came to mind as I wordlessly let him hit, slap and scream. He soon got bored of it, the only thing that entertained him was the silent tears that streaked down my cheeks. He lapped at them like an animal; the heat of his tongue stinging my cheeks that he’d just finished slapping. I am where I belong. I am where I belong. IAMWHEREIBELONG. I try to reassure myself, the chant in my head almost overpowered the sound of his grunts and groans as he entered me. I broke my silence letting out a high pitched wail as he sheathed himself fully inside. I still couldn’t move. My body was frozen in place, my limbs felt as if they were pinned down by sandbags as I futilely tried to lift them. He continued his thrusts “Scream for me бабочка. Cry for me бабочка. You look so pretty when you cry, my little crybaby.” He chuckled as he cooed and ran his hand across my tear stained cheek. They way he said it sounded as if he was praising me, as if he wasn’t raping me in the hallway. As if my blood wasn’t the only thing making him slick enough to thrust. As if he wasn’t burning me. He promised he wouldn’t do this again. But the cycle repeats again.

Maybe I deserve this. He cares for you. My thoughts are disturbed by a distant voice. He loves you so much, this is what love looks like. He loves our wings, he burns us so beautifully. We can’t survive without him. We need Bucky.

His moans disturb my thoughts, he’s close I feel his cock twitch inside me. I let out a stifled sob “please stop.” My begging came out in a voice so small that it could be confused with the blowing of this wind, but he heard me. How could he not? He’s been staring intently at my face waiting for me to say something, anything, whilst he splits me open. His lips twitch into a smile as he picks up the pace earning a sob from my lips. His nails dig into the scabs from before, tearing them open causing blood to leak down my sides. I begin to regain feeling and the pain is atrocious. The white hot pain from where we are connected makes me try to reach out and grab him, pins and needles stab at the muscles in my arms as I begin to flail. I want to die. The pain is excruciating. Every part of my brain screams at me to get away from him. Stupid little moth. I curse. You flew too close to the flame and now look at you, pinned beneath him being fucked like a rag doll. Stupid, ugly, worthless little moth.

Maybe this is death, this is what death feels like. Painful until it’s not. Full of sadness until it’s not. Until it’s nothing but a dark hellscape to replace this hellscape. If I am dying I want it to be now, before he cums in me, before his warmth fills me. I want to die. I want to be an insignificant, little moth living my days chasing the brightest lamp; until I can curl up on some shitty windowsill and die, body stiff and useless—thrown in the trash or out a window. Or maybe this isn’t death, maybe I’m already dead and this is limbo, my own personal train platform before I get my ticket to heaven or hell. Maybe metamorphosis really did turn my fucking brain to soup, idiotic moth.

Give in to him. The pain will go away if you give in. The voice calls again, but this time I listen, closing my aching, heavy eyelids and the world around me fades.

And now I am where I belong. I thought I had completed metamorphosis before, how naive I was. As I sit upon his lap, head empty aside from the thought of Bucky, as he absent mindedly thrusts himself into me during his meeting. I suck at his neck, soaking in his scent. Babbling his name, moaning. Now my brain is soup seasoned by thoughts of him. Only him. I’m not dying, my life has only just started. He freed me from my cocoon because he loves me, he loves my wings, I’m his pretty moth. The cycle will repeat again, but for now I know that I am where I belong, with Bucky. I am his play thing, everything he does shows me he loves me. I’m just stupid, I need him to protect me. His flame burns me so sweetly. Without him I’ll die, he keeps me warm. The bruises hurt to remind me to be good, that he knows what’s best for me because I am where I belong.

Welcome to

Monstertober

ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ

It’s everyone’s favourite time of the year, Halloween season which means monster fucking time

This year I’ll be participating in Monstertober, but my own version that’s more spaced out so I have time to do what I need to do and get this out for you guys.

Everything in this series is Dark!, no fluff, gentleness or consent in sight. As as result of this READ THESE AT YOUR OWN RISK YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME. My blog is 18+ you have been warned.

Most of these fics constitute as: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

As they are uploaded links will be added

Tag list 🎀

The Lineup:

🎃Day 1 - 1st October

Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Dub con, Beastiality, Dead dove: Do not eat, chasing, sex in a forest, scratching, biting, belly bulge, angst, near death, dacryphilia, bruises (not the kinky kind), begging (for him to stop), apologetic!bucky, beefy!bucky, lumberjack!bucky

🎃Day 2 - 5th October

Orc! Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Non con→Dub con, Dead dove: Do not eat, insults/degrading language, forced breeding, forced impregnation, drastic size difference, belly bulge, blood mention, virgin!reader, hair pulling, cowgirl→mating press, dacryphilia, dark!bucky, threat of violence

🎃Day 3 - 12th October

Scarecrow!Ari Levinson x Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, serious Non con, death, mentions of blood, asphyxiation/choking, bruises (not the kinky kind), Beefy!Ari (6,8ft), size difference, held down, chasing, p in v

🎃Day 4- 16th October

Vampire!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Non con→Dub con, near death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, dacryphilia, marking/biting, bruises (not the kinky kind), scratching, choking, spiting, making you drink your own blood, utter filth

🎃Day 5 - 19th October

Mummy!Steve Rogers x Reader x Jackal!Bucky

Warnings: Dub con, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, asphyxiation/ choking, scratching, marking/biting, mentions of blood, threesome, Stucky x Reader

🎃 Intermission - 23rd October

Lloyd x Reader: Pumpkin carving Drabble

Warnings: knife play, mostly fluff, reader has sensitive ears, hand kink, scent kink, reader being a brat, marking/ hickeys/ biting, implied smut

🎃Day 6 - 26th October

Swamp monster!/Siren!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Non con, death, Dead dove: do not eat, dark!bucky, beefy!bucky, forced breeding, p in v, anal fingering, sex in a forest, sex near a pond, drowning, marking/biting, mentions of blood, scratching, choking, praise, delusional!Bucky, victim!reader

🎃 intermission - 29th October

Ransom Drysdale x Reader: Cookies Drabble

Warnings: cunnilingus, tooth rotting fluff, baking with Ransom, undertones of power imbalance, Ransom is a bit of a douche, innocent!reader, implied smut

🎃Day 7 - 30th October

Occultist!Stucky x Reader

Warnings: Non con!!!, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, reader is a sacrifice, knife play?, mentions of blood, public sex, voyeurism, humiliation, implied cult, mystery demon, choking, blood kink, Dark!Stucky, p in v, oral (male receiving) , spitting in readers mouth, dacryphilia, manipulation, betrayal of trust, psychological + emotional abuse

🎃Day 8 - 31st October

Incubus!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Initial Somnophilia, dub con, kind of rape, insults/degrading language, biting, scratching, marking, mentions of blood, womb tattoo/sigil, dumbification, aphrodisiac, vibrator, p in v, overstimulation, cunnilingus, demon summoning, beefy!bucky, condescending!Bucky, dark!bucky, praise, fluff

Playing hard to get 3 🐰🐺

Part III (Restrained)

Part I (The Diner)

Part II (The Restaurant)

Playing hard to get master list

Pairing: Dark!Biker! Bucky x Reader

Warnings: dub con (but the reader is into it), size difference, Beefy!Bucky (he’s 6,2), country bunny!reader, restraints/bdsm/ropes, brat taming, scent kink, cunnilingus, overstimulation, threat of violence, knife play, begging, asphyxiation/ choking, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, lactation kink, marking, cream pie, praise, good ending

Nicknames: Bunny, BunBun, slut, mine

Word count: 3.2k

Master list

Taglist🎀

And so that brings us to the end of the ‘Playing hard to get series’ I wanted to thank you all for the support. There are more series to come and I may make continuations of this in the future.

Bucky’s piercing blue eyes finally drifted open, you just finished setting everything up. You were sitting on top of him, sliding your clit back and forth on the chiselled surface of his stomach. You lowered your face to his, nudging your nose against his gently. His tired features drew into a dopey smile, he pulled at the restraints attempting to grab your hips and grind you into him. His smile turned into a puzzled look, his brows drawing together as he tried again. Then it became as frown as he aggressively pulled at the rope “What the fuck is going on? You have 30 seconds to explain, Bunny.” He threatened lowly, glaring at you from below

“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” You allowed a pompous look to corrupt your features; to say you felt in power was an understatement. You felt like you had the keys to the kingdom. You had the dominant, cocky ruler of Brooklyn at your mercy. You cupped his bristly cheeks in your hands, before moving down towards his hardened cock. It was red and angry, a bead of precum decorating the smooth tip. You backed up on the thick veiny shaft dry humping him “How do you know Natasha?” You questioned.

“She used to run with us, but then someone she cared about got hurt and she decided she wanted a quieter life. It’s nothing serious or salacious, we were sworn siblings I guess.” He admitted he was being truthful. You nodded standing on your knees and sliding his leaking tip threw your folds; prodding it at your entrance before sitting back on top of his pelvis.

“Beg me for it, beg me to put your thick cock inside me Bucky. You always make me beg, now it’s your turn.” You moaned looking down at him, your face pulled into a cocky smile as you humped yourself against him. Soon enough that cockiness disappeared, as his metal hand flew to your neck squeezing tight enough to deprive you of oxygen as he spoke “I don’t beg for anyone. Not even you. You’re going to beg for me though, you’re going to be screaming, crying, begging like your life depends on it. Your pleasure definitely will. I’m going to edge you until the only word you know is my name, Bunny. Until you can’t walk and I’ll have to carry you. I’m going to ruin any other man for you.” He tightened his grip until your nails began to claw at his hand, watching as you wheezed craving oxygen. He threw you where he’d previously been tied “this is how you tie knots Bunny. Nice and tight.” He growled, pulling the ropes leaving barely any wriggle room “then you loosely twist there, pull it back through, pull as hard as you can, now the same with the other side, pull both sides. There. That’s really tight isn’t it. It’s a double fisherman’s knot, good luck getting out of that Bunny. it’s almost impossible to untie.” He spat.

He leaned over you towards the nightstand, flinging one of the draws open, he emerged with a knife. The black butterfly knife from the night you met. He threw it dangerously above you, catching it and tossing it around in controlled motions that resembled dance steps, it was graceful like a ballerina. He stopped, bringing his knife under your chin; stroking the blunt side against the column of your throat, you squirmed slightly, the danger making you nervous yet excited. He trailed down to the white strap of your bra “such an innocent colour for a naughty, slutty girl.” He cooed, swiftly cutting both the straps. You bite down on your bottom lip to muffle your moans as he hovers the blade above the swell of your breast, causing your skin to rise into goosebumps as he reaches the centre front of the bra cutting through it. The sound of tearing fabric filled the silence of the room and you whimpered, as your tits were exposed to cold air causing your nipples to stand erect in the chill; he circled them with the tip of the blade rubbing his hardened member against your thigh, as he dragged the blade down towards your panties. Your breath hitched as he pressed the blunt side of the blade to your clit, rubbing it ever so slightly before returning to the band of your lacey, white panties, hooking the blade under the fabric and yanking the knife. In one swift movement you were so close to being fully exposed to him. You squirmed again and his metal hand held your hips down “don’t move or it’s gonna hurt.” He stated firmly before doing the same to the other side of your panties. He discarded the ruined fabric, pausing to breathe in the scent of you, heady and aroused, before tossing it to join your ruined bra.

He trailed the knife on the inner flesh of your thigh, before placing the knife back on the bedside table and settling his face between your legs; hiking them over his shoulders, his hot breath fanning at your bare pussy. You squirmed, pulling against the bed frame, trying to wiggle your wrists. The rope rubbed against them burning “Bucky it’s too tight it hurts, please.” You whined, tears brimming in your eyes from the prickle of pain building in your arms from being above you head.

“You should have thought about that before you decided to tie me to the bed, Bunny, now I’m going to educate you. Very thoroughly. So that you learn your place.” He ran his fingers through your silken folds, dipping his fingers into your wet, pleading cunt. He took his slick covered fingers up to your clit, circling it slowly and squeezing it between his index and middle finger. You squeaked in response, trying to close your legs around his head. He wrapped his calloused hands around your plush thighs preventing you from doing so “look at you my sweet girl, dripping for me, pulsating. Too bad Bunny is misbehaving. Now I have to take it out on you.” The filthiness of his words made you wetter. Your back arches as his hot tongue comes in contact with your aching pussy, he lets out a groan which reverberates against your clit and you dig your nails into your palms—trying to buck your hips into his skilful ministrations. Sinful slurping sounds fill the room, almost drowned out by your debaucherous moans. You fought with yourself trying to maintain your dignity and choke down your moans. It was impossible. His skilful tongue scratched an itch you didn’t know you had, as he sucked and playful tugged at the sensitive hood of your clit with his teeth you sped up your grinding chasing your orgasm. You could feel the heat inside you building and building as he continued flicking his tongue against your desperate nub. All your inhibitions had melted away as you chased your release, you were moaning unabashed, you were on the brink, eyes rolling back into your skull. Then he pulled away. Looking down at his work with a satiated grin “That’s one. You have so many more to come, Bunny. I’m going to edge you till you are a mumbling mess.” He snickered at your pouting face, stroking your thighs before starting again.

He’d been at it for hours, bringing you to the brink of orgasm too many times to count and then pulling away. Your clit throbbed painfully as you thrashed in his grip, you had no idea what time it was, you barely even knew where you were at this point. The only thing you could think about was Bucky’s face buried between your legs, teasing you with his tongue as pain and pleasure bleed into one concept. You were desperate to cum, your head was stuffed with cotton and your eyes were puffy and red from tears of ecstasy and frustration. He’d barely spoken to you this whole time, Bucky had spoken, just not directly to you; he was talking to your pussy like it would respond, apologising to it, blaming you for this treatment.

You gripped at the ropes with your fingers as your hips began to thrash, trying to push your clit into Bucky’s face, trying to grind on any part of him to finally reach a complete orgasm. Your head was lulled to the side, drool and tears collecting in the crease of your elbow as you mumbled, begged and choked on your spit. Just as you were about to cum for the whoever knows manyth time he pulled away, his tongue jutting out to lick your juices which were smeared on his lips, he wiped his chin with his palm and finally looked down at his work, your pupils were blown wide, you eyes were glassy, and your gaze was distant. He waved a hand in front of your face and you just barely managed to look up at him. “Now say sorry, Bunny. Tell me that you're sorry for what you did and I’ll put my cock in your greedy little slut hole.”

“Mhm Sorwy…” you mumbled meekly, body still reeling from your last almost-orgasm. You were still a world aways from him, you still saw flashes of light, little stars, exploding in your vision. But his metal hand smacking into the soft flesh of your ass pulled you from your fantasy, you shrieked in response, closing your legs and you tried to crawl away from him. It was impossible. You were still tied to the bed. His hand came down once more at an angle drawing a yelp from your drool covered lips, fuzzy spikes of pain rippled across the inflamed skin as his hand gently rubbed the area he’d just brutally smacked.

“Again. Say sorry. Properly this time or I’ll hit you again and it’ll be worse this time, it’ll be a lot more than just two and I’ll keep on edging you until the sun goes down.” His hand lifted from your sore ass in preparation to hit you again.

“I’m sorry Bucky! I’m really really sorry for tying you up! Please I need to cum, need your cock in me rubbing all my favourite spots please.” You whined giving him a pleading look as your opened your legs wide for him.

“Such a good girl, my good little Bunny, so good at taking responsibility. Now it’s time for my good girl's reward.” He cooed as he swiped his fingers through your folds, collecting your juices and lathering his hard cock which had been taunting you this whole time. Your mouth hung open in anticipation for it to slide inside, for it to stuff you to the brim. But he didn’t put it in yet. Bucky rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, it was painful, but it felt so good you couldn’t help but let out little shrieks as you tried to squirm away. It was too much. Your clit was still so sensitive from the endless barrages of his tongue and fingers.

“Pleaseeeee” You cried lifting your hips with all the strength you could muster “In! Please!” Bucky pushed his head into you, then quickly pulled out. You squeezed your eyes, blinking away the tears to see his face. His lips were drawn into a devilish smirk, he was enjoying how slutty you were becoming for him as your craving for him to be inside you grew.

“Look at you so wanton, shamelessly presenting your pink, puffy pussy to me. You want me inside so badly don’t you?” You nodded your head furiously, his smirk only grew as your whines got louder. “I’ll give it to you Bunny. On one condition.”

“I’ll do anything! Bucky please!” You pleaded, pulling at the ropes in a futile attempt to get closer to him. He leaned in next to your ear, blowing. The colder air tickled causing you to thrash.

“Say you’re Mine. Say you’ll always be Mine.” He whispered and began to pull away. You surged forward, smashing your lips onto his. He surprisingly returned the kiss, chewing slightly on your lower lip as he pulled back.

“I’m Yours Bucky. I belong to you, now and forever. I want to be with you no matter what.” Just as you finished speaking he let out a low rumbling growl and slipped his cock into you, giving you no preamble as he began to thrust you came almost immediately. Squeezing around him and throwing your head back into the pillows, just barely missing the head board. Your spine curved and you dug your toes into the covers. Screaming as the most intense orgasm you’d ever felt steam rolled through your body. Your legs shook as you slammed back down into the mattress sobbing as Bucky continued his thrusts rubbing your sides soothingly

“Felt so good didn’t that Bunny. I give you the best pleasure don’t I? No one else will ever make you feel this way.”

“Yes Buck only you” you rasped as shockwaves continued to electrify every part of you. You clasped and unclasped your fingers, you wanted to hold him, you wanted to rake your fingers down his back. Bucky noticed, reaching over to the knife he had discarded on the nightstand earlier. He paused his thrusts, nestling himself deep inside, his tip rubbing almost painfully against your cervix as he cut the ropes. You waited for him to put the knife back before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, inhaling him as nipped and sucked at his neck nuzzling your smooth face against his stubble covered cheeks “Love you. Cum, wanna cum.” You mumble grinding your hips against his, he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Of course, Bun, I’m gonna get you pregnant. I want to see your belly swell with my little bunnies.” He responded, lifting his fingers to your mouth; you sucked on the briefly and he brought his hand down to your sensitive, throbbing bud rubbing it. Desperation flared in his eyes as he slowly pulled out, before returning to his original rapid pace, slowing at random intervals to grind against your sweet spot. He lets out animalistic grunts in response to your teary, squirming form below him. “I can’t wait for your tits to swell, for you to be dripping milk as you ride my cock like the little cock hungry slut you are. You're my cock slut aren’t you Bunny?”

“Yes!” You wail in response to his fantasies, that you are slowly craving to come true. He begins to pump harder, slamming his hips into you nibbling at your neck as you draw him closer with your arms. His whole body encompasses yours like an eclipse, all you can see is him and his beefy frame as he loses himself to his carnal desires “Close Bunny. You’re gonna cum with me aren’t you, I can feel your little pussy clenching around me. You want my seed to impregnate you, don’t you?” He ground his hips into your clit as he braced himself over you “Answer me.” He bellowed his face inches from yours, the storm in his blue eyes was violent, drowning his pupils that were blown wide with an unrivalled lust.

The look he gave, his body pressed against yours, and his distinctly manly scent sent you over the edge “Cumming! Cumming Bucky!” You cried, trying to choke down the scream that slipped past your lips as salt tears streamed from your eyes. You dug your nails into the skin of his back, ripping from his shoulders down to his sides as your body trembled and spasmed.

“Fuck.” He howled, gritting his teeth as he wildly pumped himself into your tight, fluttering hole. The way you squeezed him brought on his release, his cum painted your tight insides. His load just kept coming, he panted as he slammed shallow, harsh thrusts into you. You squeezed him tightly begging him to stop, screaming about how sensitive you were. Then it all went black, as you drifted into a warm, satisfied sleep.

You shifted on top of him, mumbling unintelligibly into the searing heat of his wide chest. You pushed yourself up, his large hand stroked the hair from your eyes

“Mornin’ BunBun, or should I say Good afternoon? You had a very good sleep.” He let out a deep chuckle, using his thumb to swipe the drool from your open lips. You panicked rubbing at your face “Calm down, Bunny, it’s cute. You’re so adorable. I really took it out of you didn’t I.” He had a goofy smile on his face as he sat up against the headboard, pulling you back against his warm chest. You admired the hard muscular plains of his chest as he rested your ear next to his heart. The soft thump calmed you.

“Did I pass out?” You questioned, looking up at him so innocently that Bucky swore it made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, you needed your rest so I cleaned you up and got into bed with you.” He explained, stroking your shoulders with his large, rough hands.

“Thank you.” You muttered, a wave of awkwardness washed over you. What were you meant to do now? You were in his house, he’d fucked you all the way into the afternoon and you still didn’t know what your relationship was.

“You can talk to me, you know? I can see your face, you’re confused, worried even. Tell me what you're thinking.” His thick fingers came underneath your hair rubbing at the nape of your neck and scratching at your scalp. The feeling relaxed you almost instantly, you chewed on the inside of your mouth looking into his eyes. His look was genuine.

“What are we Bucky?” You asked lowly, you felt stupid for asking. But the fact that he was so important, he told you last night he owned half the city…it made you question whether this was meant to just be a passing fancy for him, or whether you were just a plaything for him until he got bored.

The scratching stopped, he looked stunned “I love you Bunny, I want to be with you forever…I called you Mine remember?” He questioned, seeming sad at the fact that you were questioning his love for you.

“I didn’t know if you were being serious or not.”

“I’m always serious when it comes to you. I want you to be mine and I want to be yours. I want you to have my children, all the things I’ve said have been true. So will you be Mine?” He looks at you with intensity, waiting on baited breath for your response. He almost looks like a puppy that’s being withheld a treat, the way his blue eyes look up at you with adoration.

You smiled mischievously “hmmm I don’t know Bucky.” You pondered sarcastically, turning your head away from him and cupping your chin comically in a thinking pose.

“Bunny. Don’t play hard to get.” A growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating against you.

You laughed in response, cupping his face in your small palm “I’m yours Bucky and you’re mine.”

Playing hard to get 2 🐰🐺

Part 2 (The Restaurant)

Part 1 (The Diner)

Part 3 (Restrained)

Playing hard to get master list

Pairing: Dark!Biker!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: slightly non con, oral (male receiving, hair pulling, forced Public sex, humiliation, knife play, slight threat of violence, cunnilingus, size difference, Beefy!Bucky (he’s 6,2), country bunny! Reader, city wolf! Bucky, marking, hickeys, cream pie, breeding mentions, praise, begging, Bucky’s metal arm, asphyxiation/choking

Nicknames: Bunny, Bun, Bitch, Mine

Word count: 3.6k

Back by popular demand. Thank you all for the support, ‘Playing hard to get’ is now my most popular fic. Hope you enjoy part 2 and you stick around for part 3, where Bunny’s revenge goes wrong.

Tag list🎀

Master list

10 pm rolled around a lot quicker than you were expecting. It was 9:58 and you were frantically putting your heels on, adjusting your hair and dress in the mirror by your door. You’d consulted Natasha on the dress and she’d confirmed this blue dress was the best choice. Just as you grabbed your bag you heard the sound of a car pulling up, you glanced at the clock. 10 pm on the dot, you scoffed, punctual bitch. A firm rhythmic knock pulled you out of your thoughts, you dashed to the door and there he was, his hair and beard were neater than yesterday and he smelt divine. The scent of leather and bonfire still lingers, but they were overpowered by the musky scent of cognac, oak and jasmine. He was wearing a dark blue suit jacket, paired with a black dress shirt and slacks “You're wearing my favourite colour Bunny, nice choice, we match too. Here, flowers for my beautiful Bun.” He extended a bouquet of fresh irises, you relished in their scent.

“Are we really sticking with that nickname?” You huff

“Oh absolutely, my little bunny.” For the last part he bent down just enough to whisper it right next to your ear. His hot breath tickled you and reminded you of the other day, causing your whole face to burn in embarrassment.

“I’m gonna go put these in a vase, you can come in.” You stutter as you hurry over to the kitchen, searching your cabinets for a vase. Stupid, attractive Bucky you think pouting. You finally find the vase and you look up to see him wondering around your living room

“Very quaint. You like reading…and would you look at that.” He picks up a stuffed bunny from the couch, you want to crawl in a hole and die, you hadn’t put Mr Hops away after you’d finished your little fashion show, “The Bunny has a bunny, smells like you. What 's its name?” You turned away from his devious gaze, instead occupying yourself with arranging the flowers in the water “what did I tell you, Bunny, about answering me. I know it has a name, so tell me.”

“Mr Hops” you muttered quietly, you felt his bulky arms slink around your waist pulling you into his soft muscular torso, his warmth enveloped you. You notice the singular leather glove he wore on his left hand.

“What was that Bunny?”

You contemplated for a moment and then begrudgingly repeated yourself “Mr Hops.” You stated in a meek voice, he spun you around and kissed your forehead, resting his chin on top of your head as he rocked you side to side, he squeezed you tighter and you’re pushed further into his chest. You take a long breath in through your nose, trying to memorise the smell of him. You slowly inch your arms up and rest them on his back, rocking with him like you’re slow dancing.

“He’s cute, just like you. Now then let’s go, before we’re late to our reservation.” He let go and began walking towards the door, you held your face in your hands in embarrassment as your clit pulsated in response to his compliment, God he was ruining you before the night even began. Bucky peered back around the corner “you coming Bunny?” You stood as straight as a pin, his pink lips were pulled into a satisfied smile at this sight of you. Already a flustered, needy mess. You grabbed your bag off the counter and scuttled over to him, he held out his arm and your hooked yours through his.

“Such a gentleman.” You remarked sarcastically

“Always am Bunny, just play your cards right.”

The car ride over was mostly uneventful, aside from Bucky slipping one of his hands from the wheel to your thigh. You resisted the urge to unwrap his hand, but you just let him rub and squeeze at the soft flesh whilst he drove, every squeeze sent a pulse of heat across your back and caused your pussy to tingle, his hand was so close as he rubbed and stroked up and down your thigh, getting closer and closer to your clothed pussy, before returning to the flesh just above your knee. Now he was playing hard to get. Once you’d reached the restaurant he opened your door for you, interlocking your arm with his and leading you towards the entrance. As you approached people around you stared, discomfort on their face at the sight of Bucky. You took in the restaurant, it was extravagant, something you definitely couldn’t afford. Worry began to fester inside of you, Bucky squeezed your hand pulling you attention from the building and the people entering. The look in his stormy eyes juxtaposed the one he’d given yesterday, today they were serene, tender, almost comforting. His arm slipped from yours and instead wrapped around your waist pulling you close enough for him to plant a kiss on the side of your head “you look gorgeous Bunny, if anyone says anything about you I’ll rip their vocal cords out.” He muttered in a soothing tone. Pandora’s box was opened as soon as you decided to serve him and his gang, but why does the curse have to be so fucking hot you thought nuzzling you head into his side. As you both approached the line of people waiting at the front of house, the server who was about to lead a couple off saw Bucky and stopped in his tracks

Your head swivelled from side to side, you were confused, he’d walked you past all the seating and he was still walking. You reached a black velvet curtain, he pulled it open and pinned them back to reveal a private booth with cushioned black leather seats that circled around a centre table that had a floor length black table cloth, that’s when an idea hit you. The thought embarrassed you deeply, but you were going to get revenge for what he did to you, he embarrassed you at your job so you were going to embarrass him in front of all these upper class snobs “Your booth Mr Barnes.”

“Thank you. Ladies first.”

You were pulled out of your scheming by Bucky nudging you to sit down, you sat across from each other and the server left you with the menu. You skimmed the options, you paled. They were extortionately priced. “I can afford this.” Your shocked voice came out in a whisper, but he heard you.

“You’re not paying Bunny, I am. Pick whatever you want, only the best for my sweet little Bunny.” He cooed, his icy demeanour had melted once again. You shuffled in your seat, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously. He destroyed you, you didn’t know which side of him you liked more, his cold, demanding, dominant side or his sweet, teasing, reassuring side. Maybe having both was fine. “I’ll probably just have my usual.” He shrugged, closing the menu and laid it in front of him.

“You come here often?” You asked, taking a sip of the complimentary water.

“All the time when business needs to happen. You know, Bunny, I’m not just a Biker like Natasha warned you about.” He took your hand resting on the table into his, massaging the ring finger.

“You know Natasha?” You questioned, how could he possibly know Natasha you pondered. Maybe from the Diner, but the way he said it…it didn’t seem like that was the case. You were confused.

He dropped your hand and returned back to his menu “What do you think you’re going to get? I recommend the Sea Bass, but maybe since you're a bunny I’d recommend the mushroom risotto, it’s new but I’ve heard stellar reviews.” He avoided the question, you knew not to test your luck, his comment from earlier reverberated inside your skull ‘just play your cards right.’

“I’ll have the mushroom risotto then.” You said, your voice oozing with sarcastic sweetness.

“Great, I'll call the server over.” Now was your chance, you slipped under the table whilst he was turned away. He turned back “Bunny?” He called out clearly confused, you crawled to his side, peeking under the table cloth and began to undo the fly of his pants. Your eyes met and your hands froze, he looked like he was about to murder you right there and then. But he just shuffled closer so he’d be covered by the table cloth, you paused for a minute contemplating whether you wanted to do this or not. His calf nudged against your cheek, you took him out of his black boxers you took him into your mouth suckling at his bulbous tip before allowing him to slide down your throat. It had only been a day but you’d forgotten how large he was, you gagged slightly as you took him. You heard Bucky grunt in response, you collected some of the spit leaking down the rest of his length and gave him a few strokes before you brought your hand down to his balls, rubbing and squeezing them slightly they were heavy and full.

“I’ll just have my two of usual starters for us both and my usual for the main and she’ll have-” he coughed to cover his moan as you took the rest of him into your mouth “excuse me, she’ll have the mushroom risotto.”

“Great, and what would you like to drink?”

“A bottle of Château Mouton Rothschild.”

“Of course, will you be having desert?” The waiter continued on with his questioning and you slid yourself slowly back to his tip, circling it with your tongue before quickly swallowing him again

“We haven’t decided yet. That’s it for now.” His words came out bluntly as he gripped at the sides of the table

“Of course Mr Barnes.” You hear the familiar slide of menus gliding over each other and then the waiter walking away. Bucky’s hand comes under the table cloth and grips your hair slamming you down to the base of his cock, you gag again he lets out a husky groan. Your eyes eyes sting, your nose burns and tears roll down your cheek as he sits uncomfortable in your throat

“If you’re gonna pull this, then do it properly. My little Bunny bitch.” He mutters just loud enough for you to hear. He begins bobbing your head up and down, hitting the back of your throat repeatly causing you to gag, your throat squeezing him tighter and tighter each time. Spit leaked down you chin and pooled on the floor below you. You squeezed his ball tighter in an attempt to make him let up so you could breathe, but then one of his hands disappeared and re-emerged with a different knife than last night. Your eyes were trained on the silver glint of the knife, you watched him throw and catch it playfully. The knife came up to your face, he dragged the flat side against your cheek. The question of how many knives Bucky owned passed through your head briefly, before all of your attention was brought back to him. He began forcibly moving you again, but as he did his foot slipped between your thighs. He used the tip of his black derby shoe to rub against your clit, you moved your hips closer to him relishing in the heat that spread through your entire body as his shoe became wet with the slick leaking through your panties. You moaned around his cock, digging your nails into his meaty thighs as you felt pleasure building in your loins at the sound of Bucky’s grunts and groans. Suddenly, his hands that were nestled in your hair pulled you off him and dragged you out from underneath the table. He dried your tears and the mix of saliva and precum glistening on your chin with his napkin. “Food’s almost here. Go sit on your side.” You let out a small whine nuzzling your head under his arm.

“Was gonna cum Buck.” You purred as you slipped your hand to his thigh, rubbing right near where his cock stood tall. He tucked hismself back into his trousers, before seizing your face in his gloved hand

“You’re going to cum till you're sick of it. Now go to your side. I’m not asking.” He sneered, glaring into your dazed eyes. Your head was fuzzy and your pussy ached almost painfully, but nonetheless you reluctantly listened scooting across the leather seats back to your side of the table. You rested your head in your palms and stared at him longingly. Your food arrived and you ate in almost silence.

“How’s the food Bunny?” He asked meeting your intense stare as you chewed and swallowed.

“Good.” You stated Drly as you pushed around the remaining risotto, it was actually phenomenal. You’d never have anything so creamy before and the wine was great. But even that couldn’t satiate the hunger you had for him, you wanted to finish what you started, you wanted to cum on his shoe. You were drunk on his cock not the wine.

“Okay. That’s it. Come here.” You began to slip back under the table “No. Has the thought of my cock clouded your brain that badly? I told you to Come here.” He hissed, smacking his hand on the leather of the seat beside him. You shuffled over to him and he untied the velvet curtain, closing you both off from the rest of the restaurant.

“Bucky we can’t do that here. People will hear us.” You murmured, fumbling as you began to retreat. Bucky’s hand caught your bicep, dragging you back over to him with ease. He lifted you onto his lap like you weighed nothing and stared down at you, his eyes narrowed and pupils blown wide as caressed your waist and squeezed at your ass “I own this place. I can do whatever the fuck I want, Bunny, now be my good little pet and ride me. I want to feel your hot cunt clamp around my dick again whilst you beg me for my seed.” His deep voice rumbled as he began to thrust his hips up into yours, grinding his clothes erection against your already damp panties.

“You own this place?” You were in disbelief, that rugged biker who had instilled fear into everyone at your dinner, who fucked you against a wall owned this!? You couldn’t believe it. He had to be lying.

“I own half this fucking city. Now ride my cock. I know that needy little hole of yours has been waiting to be filled since I picked you up, so take what you want Bunny” He was dead serious as he leaned back in his seat. You felt so small in comparison to his large form that was splayed out in front of you. He released your hand and repeated your actions from earlier to free his length from its fabric restraints, it sprung free and rested against his clothes abdomen. You collected some of the precum and rubbed at the tip. Your pussy was aching, clenching around nothing. He was like nothing you’d ever taken before, he was big—a little too big— and he hit all of the right spots inside you. You pulled your panties to the side and slowly positioned your hips above him, you rubbed him through your silken folds and circled the tip against your puffy clit. The feeling of him sent waves of pleasure through you. You slowly lowered yourself down, his fat dick stretching your hole almost painfully. Setting your nerves on fire. Your hand clamped around his wide shoulders for support, your nails digging into the shoulder pads of his navy suit jacket as you took him further inside, you let out a gasp as his head glided past your g-spot. You looked down, you’d only taken half off him. You bit your lip trying to stifle your wails and moans, it felt like he was going to tear you in half.

His hands settled on your hips before he shoved you down, sheathing fully inside you. You threw your head forward, slamming into his shoulder and biting down on the textured fabric and raked your nails across his shoulder blades. You pounded your fists into his back as your vision blurred and scorching tears ran down your redden cheeks. He let you sit there and adjust, you emerged from his shoulder and he shushed you soothingly rubbing your tears away with his leather glove, it rubbed your skin. You slinked your fingers underneath the glove and pulled it off, tossing it on the table behind you. His hand was metal, a dark titanium colour with golden accents. He was shocked, a new emotion. You’d seen him angry and you’d seen him tender, now you’d seen him in utter shock.

You brought one of your hands to it, interlocking your fingers with the cool metal “It’s so beautiful.” You said softly, smiling as you skimmed your thumb against it

“You don’t think that.” He spat, pulling his hand away trying to reach for the glove. You grabbed his arm tugging it towards you bringing the exposed metal to your lips and pressing a kiss to it

“I do. I promise, I love it, Bucky. Don’t hide it from me please.” You peered up at him through your lashes, his eyes were no longer narrowed they were now relaxed “choke me with it whilst I ride you, please.” He nodded and hummed in approval, encompassing your throat with his metal hand, squeezing ever so slightly as you began to move your hips. The breathlessness accompanied with the throbbing of his dick made you keen as you used him to move yourself faster.

He grunted as he matched your pace slamming his hips up into you so his dick brushed your cervix, he leaned forward sucking on the shell of your ear and running the thin skin through his teeth “Such a good, horny little bunny so eager to be filled.” He released your neck, you gasped for air as he took control. Hooking both of his hands underneath your knees, bring the all the the way against your chest and leaning you back against the table as he claimed you

“Feels so good B-Bucky.” You whined as he paused, grinding his pelvis into your clit, before continuing his thrusts aiming right for your sweet spot. You attached your mouth to his neck sucking at the hot skin leaving hickeys and muffling your wanton cries as he filled you so perfectly “I wanted to have your babies. Want to be your bunny.” You cried as another wave of heat rushed over your entire body, adding to the growing fiery ache in your womb.

“You already Mine, Bunny. But let’s make sure everyone that looks at you can see that you’re mine, see your swollen stomach filled with my cum and know that I’ve claimed you. That you belong to me. That I will never let you go.” You came around his cock clamping around him like a vice, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your nails clawing at him as he continued to pound into you, his rhythm becoming sloppy as he reached his climax. His lips locked with yours in a ferocious kiss, his tongue tying with yours as he came with a growl. You sobbed out whines as he pressed his face closer into yours devouring your lips, his beard chafing against your face. He shuffled backwards, leaning back against the cushioned booth allowing you to rest your head on his chest. You revealed in the thumping of his heart as you drooled on his shirt, your fingers rubbing the scratchy hair on the back of his neck mindlessly babbling thank yous as he rubbed your back.

The curtain was pulled aside slightly, allowing for the brighter lights of the main restaurant to flood in, you turned your head the other way in an attempt to preserve the little dignity you still had. “Would you like dessert Mr Barnes?” The waiter inquired, before glancing at the situation he’d walked into. He let out an astonished gasp

“I’ve got desert right here.” Bucky responded slyly, allowing his lips to draw into a smirk, squeezing your thigh, hard enough to leave a bruise “leave so I can eat.” He barked.

Without a word the server scurried off, Bucky hoisted you off his lap and sat you on the table before hunching down to lick the mix of your juices that was leaking out of your throbbing cunt. You moaned as he lapped at you juices and sucked on your clit, before he moved back down to your clenching hole “look at you Bunny, clenching on nothing. You miss my dick that badly?” He glanced up at you through his lashes, you nodded vigorously, he slapped you clit harshly with his metal hand “Speak.”

“Yes Bucky! Please I want you inside me, I want you to breed me again and again.” You whined desperately, caressing your breasts and shuffling closer to him.

“Let’s go home, then we’ll keep going. It’s getting late and I want to ruin you completely, I’m gonna fill you with cum till you look pregnant Bunny.” You let out another whine in protest “My Home. Come on. Or would you rather I carry you through the restaurant, and let everyone see how messy I’ve made you, how desperate you are to be speared on my cock.” You shook your head and began to straighten out your dress “oh and before we go, close your eyes and open your hands.” You did as he said, he placed something into them and closed them around it “ you can open them.” your mouth hung open. It was your pink panties.

Playing hard to get 🐰 🐺

Part I (The Diner)

Part II (The Restaurant)

Part III (Restrained)

Playing hard to get Master list

Pairing: Dark!Biker!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: dub con (but the reader is into it), size difference, Beefy!Bucky (he’s 6,2), country bunny!reader, hair pulling, brat taming, forced oral (male receiving), scent kink, brief cunnilingus, threat of violence, knife play, begging, asphyxiation/ choking, breeding kink, marking, cream pie, praise, good ending

Nicknames: Bunny, Bun

Word count: 2.6k

Ko-fi, Materlist, Taglist🎀

Might make this a series, because I crave more biker Bucky in my life and I love the dynamic of a country bunny and a city wolf 🐺

Update: part 2 coming very soon

The rush had finally slowed down and the diner began to empty out, leaving only a few tables with customers. You stood next to Nat talking about random things that came to mind, like stuff you’d seen recently in the paper and gossip you’d picked up from tables “I know you’re new, but you seriously haven’t heard about the Biker gang that’s in these parts?” Her eyebrows were raised comedically high, displaying her utter shock.

“Why would I? It's not like I hang out with that type of people. I prefer just interacting with the average weirdos that frequent this diner, I don’t need to mess around with some biker weirdos, especially a gang.” You replied, as you busied yourself with cleaning the counter

“What are you guys talking about?” Wanda sauntered over, placing the stack of menus down next to us

“What are you guys talking about?” Wanda sauntered over, placing the stack of menus down next to us

“I was warning Y/N about the bikers.” To that Wanda's face paled and she began to fiddle with her apron

“Don’t go near those guys. Luckily they don’t come here often. Vis saw what they did to one of the guys at his job who owed them money…it wasn’t good.” Natasha nodded in agreement

“I won’t. Promise.” The bell chiming caused you to turn on your heel and put on your best smile, as you grabbed a menu with a hop, skip and a jump and went to meet the people at the door. That’s when you finally looked at them, four men with black leather jackets and icy stares. The man leading the group was an imposing, towering figure. He looked to be about 6,2, with broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms that were squeezed by his weathered leather jacket. His defined, well built curves of his chest could be seen through gunmetal henley. The sight of him made your cheeks burn as you resisted the urge to bite your lip.

“Looks like we’ve got a bunny serving us, you see the way she hopped towards us Buck?” The tall blonde smirked, as he tapped the man in the front who had cropped brown hair and eyes that had a storm rumbling within them, a spine chilling blue. He let out a low, gravely hum in agreement and let his stiff expression pull into a smile. You composed yourself and pulled your eyes away from his. The Howling Commandos. You held the menus in your hands tightly, running your fingers over the edge of the fraying card as you took in a deep breath.

“We have a few tables free, do you want one more in the front or the back?”

“Back.” The one standing in the doorway lowered his shades and did a one over of you, licking his lips. You had to swallow the vomit rising in your throat, he was way too old for you.

“Follow me gentlemen.” You finally heard the last one speak, he repeated the word ‘gentlemen’ in a joking tone to the blonde who also stifled a laugh. You brought them all the way to the back, furthest away from the front door. They slid into the booths and you handed out the menus and tried to scurry off, but you felt chilly leather wrap around your small wrist and tug you back

“I haven’t seen you around here before Bunny. What burrow did you hop out of?” The men sat with him laughed at his phrasing, you bit your tongue and turned slowly back to face him.

“I, uh, moved here about a month ago from Montana.” You stuttered nervously, eyes glued to his hand which hand began to play with yours

“So you’re new to Brooklyn. I thought I hadn’t seen you before, you’re a country bunny. Far from home. How you findin’ the city Bun?” His thumb began to massage circles in your palm, it was soothing and tickled slightly, your eyes drifted to his. He was looking at your face with intensity.

“It’s different, more people, expensive…but I like it.” You replied, he finally released your hand and you suddenly didn’t know what to do with it— so you began playing with the material of your skirt, he made you feel so small and shy. But he was dangerous. You had to remember that, but it was getting hard to remember.

“Well I’m glad you’ve had a nice experience so far Bun. My name’s Bucky, Blondie is Steve, glasses is Tony and that’s Sam. I’m guessing you know about us.” You nodded slowly

“You’re scaring her Bucky.” Sam chided

“Good. Means the bunny will behave.” Tony added

“I’ll leave you guys to think about your order.” You wanted to get away, you’d opened Pandora’s box by serving them.

“We’ll order now.” Bucky smiled.

They all ran through their orders and just as you were about to leave, Bucky grabbed you again. But this time, he grabbed your waist pulling you so your hips pushed against his face “Didn’t say you could go yet Bunny. Listen, I wanna take you on a date. Maybe after your shift I can show you around Brooklyn, show you all the best places, get you some good food and we can have a little fun.” Another smile spread across his sculpted face, which was shaded with stubble. He was attractive and tempting, but he was also dangerous. You wanted to kiss him, you wanted to feel his thick arms wrapped around your waist as you took him. But he was dangerous. You knew that, Natasha had warned you not even 20 minutes ago.

“No I really shouldn’t.” You tried to escape his grasp but he pulled you closer

“I wasn’t asking Bunny. I’m taking you on a date.”

“And I told you no.” You retorted, freeing yourself from him, you turned to face him. All the warmth that had graced his face had faded, his jaw ticked and the storm in his eyes had picked up, they were so dark it made your panties damp just looking at him “I’ll go put your orders in.”

You practically ran to the kitchen, almost tripping over your own feet as you turned the corner. You handed the tickets over and that’s when Natasha came up behind you

“Y/N what happened out there? He asked you on a date and you refused. Do you know what you’ve done?” Natasha questioned, you couldn’t face her. A feeling of nausea swept over you and tears brimmed your eyes. What did I just do? You asked yourself repeatedly

“I’m gonna take out the trash.” You managed to say and you walked out of the kitchen, back into the main dinner and out the back doors.

Just as your hand grasped the door handle, you felt a hand grab your hair and drag you on to your knees, your eyes met Bucky’s. He opened the door and dragged you outside, shutting it behind you. Your scalp burned and he threw you against the scratchy brick wall.

“No one says no to me. Not even little country bunnies, like you, who don’t know their place. Now, I’m going to take what I want and you’re not gonna be able to do anything about it.” You stood and tried to run at him to move him out the way, but he just grabbed the top of your head and shoved you down, bringing you back to your knees “Stop playing hard to get bunny. I'm not in the mood.” One of his hands held you in place whilst he undid his dark denim jeans, pulling his thick cock out from his grey briefs and slapping it against your cheek; leaving hot precum on the bridge of your nose. “Bite it and I’ll make your pretty face as ugly as your mouth bunny.” He threatened as he pulled out a shiny, black butterfly knife; which danced between his fingers and slinked over his bruised knuckles as he threw it in all directions. He threw it one more time then caught it in the firm grip of his gloved hand and hovered it over your cheek, allowing you to feel the sharp edge and the cold metal. Proving that his threat was indeed serious. You gave the head of his cock little kitten licks, relishing in the salty taste of his cum. You didn’t dare look up at him as you took his length into your mouth, you had to readjust your jaw to fit all of him. The head of his cock slowly descended down your throat. It was big. The biggest you’d ever taken, you almost began to gag when you finally reached the base. Your face was nuzzled into his crotch, his sparse hair tickled at your nose as you took in the heady scent of him. You loved it. His hands planted either side of your head, becoming intertwined with your hair, as he began moving you up and down his shaft in long, drawn out strokes “you swallow me so nicely Bunny. Maybe your mouth isn’t that bad after all. You look like you’re enjoying it, do you like my thick cock being shoved down your throat.” You whimpered a yes in response, shuffling on your knees to rub your thighs together. The sight lit a fire inside of him, he began thrusting his hips in time to the movement of your head, his thumb rubbing up and down the nape of your neck as he fucked your throat, you hollowed your cheeks in response. You could taste more of his tangy cum leaking down your throat as his cock twitched against your tongue, his hands held you still and then removed you from his shaft with a pop. You ran your tongue over his slit and swallowed the precum that had collected on the top of your tongue. He growled at the sight.

Bucky grabbed your arm pulling you to your feet as he got on his knees and peaked under your skirt, pulling down your panties “Pink and frilly, How adorable my little bunny, they’re soaked. You like this don’t you, me manhandling you. Me taking you for myself. Me forcing you to have sex outside.” Bucky interrogated as his adept fingers massaged your clit, he squeezed it between his fingers softly pulling a gasp from your lips, before burying his face in the apex of your thighs. His wet tongue burrowed its way inside you as he rubbed at you sensitive bud, he then switched, burying two of his thick, long digits inside you massaging your g-spot as he flicked your clit with his tongue, you squeezed his head with your thighs as you tried to bite back your moans. All of a sudden he slipped his fingers out and the warmth was replaced by cold metal, as he pushed the hilt of a knife inside you “you like my knife doll? It’s thick isn’t it? Not as thick as my cock, but it’s nice to get you ready with. God your pretty cunt clenches around it so prettily.” His voice was a husky whisper as he pushed the hilt of the knife back and forth.

“Please! Bucky!” You whined, feeling heat build in your hips, you were practically sitting on his shoulders as you gripped the wall desperately.

"Please what?" he grumbled as he came out from beneath your skirt, taking his blade with him.

"Bucky, please! Fuck me!" you pleaded, spreading your legs wide for him two fingers stretching apart your lips. He lifted one of your thighs, wrapping it around his waist and holding it in place with his hand. He pushed you harshly back against the wall and seized your neck in his free hand, nudging you face to look at him as he pushed the head of his cock past your slick folds, the beast in him didn't feel relief yet. His grip around your throat tightened, almost painfully as he set a brutal pace with his thrusts, jabbing at your cervix causing you to shriek. His pace calmed in response, but he still sheathed himself in and out roughly.

“You don’t ever say no to me again! You hear that bunny, never. When I tell you something your only response is ‘Yes Bucky’ Now I’m gonna fill you up with my seed and you’re gonna thank me aren’t you Bunny.” He snarled, punctuating his words with rough thrusts against your g-spot

“Yes Bucky! Yes, please breed me!” You begged, you mind becoming too clouded by the pleasure he was giving you to even care about the consequences.

“That’s right Bun. I’m gonna breed you. Gonna fill you up with some bunnies, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You keened as his hand slipped from your throat down to your shirt, unbuttoning just enough so he could cup your breast, pinching and twisting at your nipple as he rolled it between his finger tips. A squeak left your mouth followed by a gasp as he quickened his pace. Your head grew fuzzy as you threw your head back, allowing you mouth to fall open in a silent wail “look at me. Look me in the eyes whilst I ruin you.” He demanded his voice gravely and thick with lust. His hand returned to your throat, depriving you of air once again and forcing you to lock eyes with him, the storm within his eyes was dark, angry, thrashing and swirling. A blue so deep and dark like a wave that swallows a ship, his pupil was indistinguishable from his iris. Hot tears began to run down your cheeks, Bucky licked the tears.

“You’re mine. All fucking mine. And I’m gonna make sure everyone knows, because I don't like when people touch things that are mine.” He growled as he pulled at the collar of your shirt and sunk his teeth into your shoulder. Cocktail of pleasure and pain mixing in your brain sent you over the edge, your walls clamped around his member as it twitched inside you releasing coating your walls in his seed. You dug your nails into the leather of his jacket, as you buried your face into the crook of his neck taking in the smell of leather, oil and bonfire that clung to him. He let out warm, heavy breaths next to your ear as he came down from his high, his hips still thrusting as he let out all of his load. He kissed your head tenderly, stroking your hair as your body quivered from after shock. You squeezed him as he pulled out, trying to keep him inside you for just a bit longer. His hot spend leaked down your thighs, as he put down your leg and helped you straighten out your uniform. He picked up your panties, scrunched them into a ball and shoved them into the inside pocket of his jacket. You pouted as a smug look appeared on his face “If you want these back then you're going to have to go on that date with me bunny.”

You giggled as he ran the back of his hand over your cheek “What time are you picking me up?”

Holometabolous metamorphosis 🦋

Part 2- Thanatosis 🦋

Holometabolous metamorphosis- Also called complete metamorphosis is a form of insect development that involves four stages of life: egg, larva, pupa (cocoon) and adult.

Dark!Mean!Mafia!Biker! Bucky x innocent!victim!Reader

Warnings: absolutely non con, dark!Bucky, mean!Bucky, Beefy!Bucky, innocent!reader, name calling, manipulation, abuse, bruises (not the kinky kind), dacryphilia, punching, slapping, mentions of blood, heavy angst, reader blames themselves (if you’re getting abused it not your fault), talk of death, allusions to suicide

Nicknames: whore, stupid, dumb

Read this at you own discretion. This is actually one of the darkest things I’ve ever written. I do have a continuation of it so if I finish it I’ll link it.

༻ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐬𝐤𝐬 ༺

Surely I am dying. My head pounds as I hold the cover closer to me, hugging his pillow tighter as the rain clatters down, harsh like pebbles being thrown at a window, and the wind picks up outside, howling as gusts in all directions shake the trees. My ears prick at the sound of a branch scratching repeatedly at the window, the grating sound causes my brows to pinch together as I pull at the heavy covers, dragging them over my ear. The dark room is illuminated briefly by the blinding white of lightning. It allows me to see the dreary grey walls, lighter than the current sky which is a deep, dark never ending pit that allows for nothing to exist, the closet door is slightly ajar. It’s freezing, my teeth chatter, I ball my body up further, shrugging my shoulders till they reach the bottom of my ear and squeeze, tighter than I’ve ever squeezed before on the pillow. Bucky. The name flashes in my mind and more tears slip over my nose onto the pillow, I take a deep breath allowing his scent that still clings to the pillow to hijack my lungs- the smell of a warm bonfire, the leathery smell of his jacket, petrichor, musky magnolia wood and the oil from his motorbike. My thumb caresses the corner of the pillow and the knot in my throat grows painfully tighter, I bite on my lower lip keeping the sob that is trying to escape my chest inside. I let one of my hands drift to the impression of him that remains in my mattress, the outline of his bulky frame. It’s cold, colder than the bitter wind outside. I miss the days when the impression was filled by him, his feverish warmth and his solid, yet soft muscles. I miss the days when I could lean against his chest and hear the steady, strong rhythm of his heart. I miss the days when he’d run his calloused hands over my skin, under the covers, making the shape of stars, hearts or just random squiggles. I miss him so much, his soothing presence.

The room is illuminated again and I see blood on the pillow from my lip. I throw off the weighty covers, my naked body is kissed by the cold and my skin is pinched softly as it is littered with goosebumps. I throw my legs over the side of the bed, the floorboards groaning as I stumble out into the hallway. I cling desperately to the wall, trying my best to walk as a dull ache radiates through my calves and stinging throbs between my legs, sharp pains jab me as I shuffle like a newborn giraffe towards the glowing warm light of my bathroom. I push the door weakly and am faced with the mirror. Surely I am dying. I wish I was already dead, I want to sink to the floor. I glance over to the dead moths on the yellowed, flakey paint of my windowsill. I want to be a moth, I want the simple little life of a moth. I once thought being with him was freedom, but now I can see, true freedom is death and although I look like death, although I feel like death I am not yet dead.

The room is illuminated again and I see blood on the pillow from my lip. I throw off the weighty covers, my naked body is kissed by the cold and my skin is pinched softly as it is littered with goosebumps. I throw my legs over the side of the bed, the floorboards groaning as I stumble out into the hallway. I cling desperately to the wall, trying my best to walk as a dull ache radiates through my calves and stinging throbs between my legs, sharp pains jab me as I shuffle like a newborn giraffe towards the glowing warm light of my bathroom. I push the door weakly and am faced with the mirror. Surely I am dying. I wish I was already dead, I want to sink to the floor. I glance over to the dead moths on the yellowed, flakey paint of my windowsill. I want to be a moth, I want the simple little life of a moth. I once thought being with him was freedom, but now I can see, true freedom is death and although I look like death, although I feel like death I am not yet dead.

I run my shaking fingers over the bruise around my eye socket. Flowers of deep purples and black and sickly yellowish green buds climb along my cheek bone. I flinch away from my own touch “Stupid” I mutter to myself as I turn the handle of the tap, a metallic creak accompanies the sputter and cough of water as it forms a steady stream. I gather it in my cupped hands, relishing in the warmth, as warm as his skin. I crane my neck down and throw it at my face, rubbing at my stinging split lip with my pinky. I grab my face towel and dab my face dry, looking again in the mirror. Bruises, bushes of purple and black. Estranged petals adorn my waist from where he grabbed me harshly and held me down. A shudder runs down my spine as I feel the ghost of his hands digging into me, little bloody half moons accompany the bruises.

The sky hit its drum once again, I fell to my knees. My hands meeting the cold tiles, reddish brown stained the grout. I hadn’t cleaned it yet. I crawled straight to bed as soon as he left. I can hear his animalistic growls echo off the walls, growls as he plunged into me holding my legs open painfully wide, my hips threatening to come out of their sockets. He was like a man possessed, I’d never seen his eyes so dark and stormy before, wide and pregnant with malice ready to rain on me. I could smell the whiskey on him as he leaned down demanding I kissed him, I refused. That’s when he punched me and grabbed my jaw in a crushing grip, forcing me to kiss him— it was more than just whiskey; this time he was hammered— regardless of my sobs and incoherent pleading. I don’t know what I was pleading for. Maybe for him to stop, maybe for him to go harder, maybe for him to be kinder… I don’t know. Stupid brain, stupid idiot. ‘Stupid’ is what he called me. A ‘dumb whore’, a ‘hole to fuck’ as he snapped his hips chasing his release, unbothered if he pleased me or not. He slapped my face, his ring catching on my lip and tearing it open. He yanked my hair brutally from the root, one of his many rings scraping my scalp sending a white hot throb through my nerves. He demanded that I cry harder, the harder I cried the quicker this would go and the harder his dick would get is what he said. He was hard enough, as his thick cock tore through me slick with blood. Bucky had always been a loose cannon, but usually he directed it towards beating up men who owed him money or waging war on rival gangs. But today he wanted to take it out on me, all he wanted was sex but when I didn’t want to; he decided he was bored with me, my wings were ugly and tattered, but he wanted them, he wanted my freedom so he took it. He burnt my wings off. He raped me. He wouldn’t stop. I wish he just killed me with one of his prized knives. My winter soldier, my flame, my demise.

I hugged myself despite the pain, rocking back and forth on the tiled floor. He’s never coming back. I'm gonna die. I'm dying without him. I need him, he burns me so sweetly. Bucky Bucky Bucky. The chant of his name fills my head as I curl up on the floor like an abandoned animal, like the moth on my windowsill. Surely I am dying.

Part 2- Thanatosis

Unfinished Beefy!Bucky x Reader Drabble

Pairing: Soft Dom!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Lots of steamy kissing, Beefy!Bucky, biting, marking, mentions of blood, size difference, Bucky has tattoos, Bittersweet (reader is hella sentimental, because I was in a sappy touch starved mood whilst writing this)

Here’s another thing from my pile of unfinished things, that will probably never be finished. This was either meant to be part of a biker!bucky fic or roommates!bucky fic but at this point I don’t know so here you go, enjoy.

His strong hands hooked under your thighs pulling you impossibly closer to him as he harshly slammed you against the steamed up shower room glass. The cold glass electrified your senses causing your nipples to pebble and your whole body to be covered in goosebumps. Bucky craned his neck down to lick and suck at your throat causing blossoms of red and purple to bloom under his demanding mouth. You let out whines and moans as he sucked, you tugged at his dark wet locks. Bucky let out an animalistic groan whilst sinking his teeth into the area where your neck and shoulder met, his head suddenly rose just enough to meet yours. He leant his forehead against yours, kissing you and forcing your mouth open with the prod of his tongue. The kiss tasted metallic, like blood you peered down at where Bucky had bit and saw a faint copper tinge to the water that was running down your shoulder. He had bit you harder than you expected, but the overwhelming pleasure of being enveloped by him must have overridden the pain from his teeth sinking into your neck. He nudged your cheek with his nose, causing you to turn back to him “I’m not finished kissing you yet. You can look at my handy work later, kiss. Now.” He demanded in a hushed hoarse voice. He nibbled at your bottom lip before reconnecting your mouths. His kisses make you crazy, they make you crave more, they make you want to hold on to him and never let go, they make you never want to lose him, ever, they make you desperate, sentimental even…that doesn’t happen much. Your hands fall from his hands and begin travelling all over his body, parting the hot stream of water with your finger as you trace his tattoos. His tongue explores your mouth and tangles with your tongue. He pulls away breathless, eyebrows knitted together chest heaving. Your heart pounds against your rib cage as if it’s desperate to escape. The sight of him so utterly destroyed just for you, you both broke each other down, both of your defences were worn away and now you could see each other for the first time and you loved it, you loved him.