Sebastian Stan Characters - Blog Posts

'cause he's just so cool

My mann

༻ ♡ ༺

He’s never considered himself to be a religious man. Not in the 40’s and certainly not now. Though….he does feel the slight guilt when he’s with you. Like there really is a big man above wagging his finger because he’s dating a twenty something year old. Dating as a centurion just feels icky. Like touching something sticky, or stepping on a wad of gum. Even the word “boyfriend” makes him cringe. He’s far past the stage of “boy” and he’s sure it makes people expect some college aged brat, and not well…him. He’s a congressman now, dating at his age is…embarrassing to say the least. He feels less embarrassed when you’re giving him kisses in and attention, irrelevant. You got carded when he took you out, carded, he didn’t get checked—well he did just in a judgy sort of way.

He would’ve courted you if he had gotten the chance. Would’ve asked for permission and pick you up to go out to the theatre or to a carnival. Though things never seem to work out the way he wants. He’s rubbing your back as you lie on his chest scrolling on your phone, taking the time to show him something silly that made you laugh. The little tank top you’re wearing isn’t jarring, he’s gotten used to 21st century fashion. Still, he knows, had this been his early twenties it would really make his head spin. You regularly keep him on his toes.

He sighs, which makes you look up at him. “okay?” You ask, he smooths your hair down and nods. “Fine, little sleepy.” He murmurs, getting you to lay your head back down. “You wanna go to sleep?” You ask and he shakes his head, he feels like an old man enough, he doesn’t need a bedtime. You go back to lying down and he feels like a worm again. The softness and smoothness of your skin, god, you aren’t even calloused. Just never worked a day in your life have you? He wants to make sure you never have to. You’re not some midlife crisis, he’s ready to ride or die. Both probably soon, he doesn’t worry about it that much anymore, you’ve done a lot to ease his worries. He’s knows you aren’t a baby, you’re a modern lady, and he’s trying to be your modern man.

credit to @cursed-carmine for dividers

#Welcome back The Winter Soldier (insp)

Brother from another mother

Wyatt being the new extrovert to Sebastian while Anthony is away😭

😭😭HELP KAKSKSKS

Chocaholics Anonymous

For @buck-star 's Easter Challenge 🐣🐰

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Trope: Friends to lovers

Prompt: 🐰 Choclate (way toooooooooooo much)

Word count: ?

Tags/Warnings: None. Just really goofy fluff

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through AI. All of my work is 18+ so read at your own risk.

Summary: You notice that your chocolate stash is depleting rapidly and begin a note exchange with your chocolate thief.

Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

A/N: Also 350+ followers?? Hi you guys!! ☺️

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Navigation

Your chocolate stash was a chocoholic's dream. Hidden in the back of the dustiest, least used kitchen cupboard was a fake backing; with no pipes running through it to make sure no one accidentally stumbled upon your stash.

Steve and Thor were cretins when it came to chocolate and - probably due to their size and training regimens - could eat your stash in one sitting. However, you'd chewed them out so bad you thought they would burst into tears, and then promptly devised your super secret stash cupboard to ensure it never happened again.

Which was why you were surprised to find that, even though you'd definitely replaced your fake backing when you last used it, your stash had most definitely depleted.

You couldn't remember eating the bars that were missing. Even if you had somehow managed to sleep walk to your cupboard, the lack of evidence in wrappers and chocolate smears was concerning.

You didn't want to signal to the other avengers that you had a new secret stash, or that you knew one of them was a thief, so you opted to leave a note printed from the team's computer. With a team full of spies, geniuses and magic users, you didn't need the thief to know who you were from your handwriting.

Placing the note clearly upon the chocolate pile you re-fix the fake backing, the words slowly fading from view.

I know who you are. Count your days chocolate thief (<.<)

Bucky was surprised to find a note left on top of the supposedly abandoned chocolate stash he'd stumbled upon. He had - incorrectly - assumed that the chocolate stash had been long forgotten about and that the goldmine of sweet, cocoa-y goodness was his and his alone. Knowing that he was in fact a thief, made him feel only slightly guilty as he reached for another chocolate bar, deciding that he would leave a note of his own and replace what he'd taken.

Clearly, whoever had left the note and created this hidden stash wanted to remain anonymous. However, he wondered who on earth on the team it could be.

You read out the newest note aloud in the quiet of your room, trying to put together a mental list of suspects as you skim the words.

"Dear Chocolate Fairy," you begin, already frowning. "I'm sorry for eating your chocolate. Great. At least there's an apology."

You sigh. An apology meant it couldn't have been Tony; he'd never apologise for something like that. Maybe buy you stock in Cadbury but never apologise apologise.

"To make it up to you, I'll buy your favourite to replace what I stole. Just leave me a note of your chocolate of choice."

You nod approvingly but keep your frown as you type up your new note into a word document. Who on earth was your Anonymous Chocolate Thief?

A week later, you were no closer to finding the identity of your Chocolate Thief.

Steve and Clint were on a mission when the last note appeared, Thor was off world and when you'd subtly asked Bruce if he'd like any chocolate from the store he'd told you he preferred savoury snacks and asked if you'd pick up some Pringles instead.

On your weekly coffee meet with Natasha, you ask her about her chocolate preferences, only earning you a sigh.

"This again?" She tuts. "You're a chocaholic. Besides, with Steve and Thor gone you have nothing to worry about and you don't keep chocolate in the tower anymore. What's bothering you?"

You look sheepishly into your hot chocolate and try to come up with a good excuse.

"Nothing." You sip at your chocolate-y concoction. You couldn't tell Nat about your chocolate issue because she'd find out who it was immediately and truth be told you were enjoying your game of Whodunnit. "Anyways, tell me about that last mission you were on..."

"Man, this is too much chocolate. Even for you." Sam had rummaged through some of Bucky's grocery bags to find that at least two of them were filled with chocolate bars. "What are you gonna do with all this?"

Bucky eyes him suspiciously before snatching the bar he was holding out of his hand. "None of your business."

Sam throws up his hands in defeat before sneaking another bar into his pocket. "Do I need to let Steve know in case this is a... Thing?"

Bucky frowns over at Sam, picking up the grocery bags in his left hand. "A Thing?"

"Yeah. A Thing." Sam frowns back, folding his arms over his chest. "You're hoarding chocolate like it's gold so unless you're plotting something, I don't see how you're gonna eat that much."

Bucky purses his lips in consideration before sighing, realising Sam was correct and that he was acting stranger than usual. "I...you're gonna have to trust me Sam, this isn't for me."

"Right."

"I swear."

"Yeah." Sam shakes his head. "Whatever man, if you get stuck in a chocolate coma I'm not helping you out of it."

Bucky rolls his eyes and is about to pad off to his room to wait until everyone is asleep to access the secret stash but halts when Sam chirps behind him.

"You should ask Y/N if she wants any of your bars."

"What? Why?" Bucky turns back to Sam with a curious look.

"She's a chocaholic to the max." Sam chuckles and gives Bucky a knowing smirk. "Besides, it might gain you some points in her favour don't you think?"

Bucky spins around on his heel to try and hide the warmth gracing his cheeks but Sam had already spotted it and snorts, calling after him.

"And try smiling more!"

The following night, you almost burst into laughter when you open up the false backing. The stash is filled to the brim with your favourite chocolate that you feel sick just looking at it. Attached to the very top is a note that reads "Sorry :(".

A small twinge of guilt twists in your stomach and you feel a little disappointed that your Chocolate Thief is no more. You'll never know their identity - and you wonder if your mysterious Chocolate Thief will visit your dreams as a handsome man who looks suspiciously like one Bucky Barnes.

You sigh picking up a bar. There's so much chocolate stuffed inside it could take you a year to eat through it all. You startle when you hear the approach of footsteps, and begin hurriedly shoving chocolate bars back into the cupboard, smacking your head as you jump off the ground.

"Hi." You say, trying not to look too frazzled as Bucky appears.

"Hey." He says and for a moment you both stare at eachother in the dark of the kitchen.

"What are you doing up so late?" You stall, kicking a stray bar across the kitchen floor.

"Uh..." Bucky panics and then wiggles a piece of paper he's holding. "Report."

"Couldn't it wait till the morning?" You ask, starting to smile.

"Couldn't sleep." Bucky finishes lamely before smiling shyly. "You?"

"Same." You lie but if staying up meant eating chocolate and speaking with Bucky, you'd gladly pay the price of no sleep. "Want a cocoa?"

Bucky snorts. "Sam said you were a chocaholic."

You shrug trying to play it off but man, you really did have a reputation.

"I'm thinking of starting a club." You say playfully, heading to the cupboard for a mug. "Chocaholics Anonymous. What do you think?"

Your grin widens when you hear Bucky's laughter, heart fluttering when you catch a playful gleam in his blue eyes.

"I think you'd be the only member." Bucky says, watching you make your chocolate drink with a hint of jealousy.

"I could get Steve and Thor involved." You say mock-thoughtfully.

"Do you even have a favourite chocolate if you're a chocaholic?" Bucky asks curiously.

"Oh yeah." You say nonchalantly, adding heaped teaspoons of cocoa mix to your mug, uttering your favourite bar without a second thought. "But there's different brands who use different amounts of cocoa to milk solids and blah blah blah."

You turn and fix Bucky with another smile. "What about you?"

Bucky opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. He can feel heat crawling all over his face and a smile itching to break free; you were the Chocolate Fairy. It was your stash he'd broken into.

No wonder you'd been so touchy about your chocolate.

"I don't have a favourite." Bucky says. "I take what I can get my hands on."

You falter at his words for a moment before grabbing the milk from the fridge. "Yuh huh. I know the type."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bucky teases and you giggle as you put your cocoa in the microwave.

"Nothing."

"It didn't sound like nothing."

"Bucky, come on -"

"Sounds like you were insinuating I was some sort of Chocolate Thief."

You spin around to face him pointing wildly. Bucky points back accusingly.

"You're the Chocolate Thief!" You gasp.

"You're the Chocolate Fairy!" Bucky exclaims back.

A moment passes before you both dissolve into a fit of giggles, interrupted only by the ding of the microwave.

"You bought wayyy too much chocolate, Buck." You snicker, grabbing your mug. "But I'll happily share it with you."

"Sam did say I went overboard but I have a better idea." You raise an eyebrow at Bucky, who gives you a cheeky smile. "We choose some snacks and a movie, melt the chocolate and gorge ourselves into a chocolate coma."

You nod excitedly, your stomach swooping with joy. "It's a date, Thief."

Taglist

Add yourself here

@irishhappiness , @awkwardgiraffe726 , @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers , @dugiioh , @cieraboobear , @railmesebstan , @kei943 @norseloki26 , @sebastians-love @valenzie , @xamapolax , @lonelyghosts-stuff , @winchestert101 @read-just-cant-stop @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @looking1016 @blackhawkfanatic @almostglitterybear

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

One stop off of heaven

Choose your path ➦

My girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

All ends well from Bucky and his girl, now they have to make up for lost time and miscommunication.

Chapters:

🛎️Part 1: I'll call you mine - Coming soon

🛎️Part 2: You're my sweet complete desire - Coming soon

Drabbles:

Coming soon (open to thots/asks)

I wanna be yours

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader → Ari Levinson x Reader

Bucky might not want you, but someone from your past absolutely does and he won’t let you be treated like you’re worth nothing. He’ll go above and beyond to show you what love truly is.

Chapters:

🗝️Part 1: Snap out of it

🗝️Part 2: Arabella - Coming soon

Drabbles:

Coming soon (open to thots/asks)

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 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

🩸 Steve Kemp x Reader Drabble 🩸

Pairing: Master!Steve Kemp x Bunny!Reader

Warnings: Steve is a warning in itself, marking/biting, cunnilingus, mentions of cannibalism , mentions of blood, Dom!Steve + Sub!reader

Nicknames: Bunny, Slut, Master

His hand gripped your thigh, a grip that could kill—and it had, he stroked the soft flesh pinching it when he got close to your already damp panties. You carded your cuffed hands through his silky locks, relishing in the sight below you. His hand slipped back down to your knees rubbing them decisively with his calloused palm. Two rubs each, slow and methodical as if he was feeling up a watermelon trying to pick the best one. Like you were food. You were food to him. You tried to push away the disturbing reality and focus on his sculpted jaw as nudged his slightly stubbly cheek against your inner thigh. He took in a deep inhale of your skin, before taking the sensitive flesh into his mouth; sucking it, running it through his teeth, playful nibbling. You had to swallow down the witty remark that sat on the top of your tongue, ‘didn't your parents ever tell you not to play with your food Stevie?’ You bit down on your lip suppressing a giggle. The pain of Steve chomping down on your thigh pulled you out of your gallow humour inner monologue “Ouch!” You yelped, tugging on his hair. He released the skin, blood trickled from his bite mark. He lapped at the trickling red, as if it was wine that had spilled on his hand whilst opening a bottle of wine.

“Focus, Bunny, I want you to watch everything I do to you. Even when I do this.” He bit down on the same thigh, this time closer to your dripping cunt. But he dug his teeth further in, at the same time his fingers pushed aside your panties. He ran his fingers through your hot, damp folds; pushing two digits into your needy cunt. He growled into your thigh, chewing on the bite mark like a rabid animal desecrating your corpse. The danger was so enticing. Pleasure and pain soon bleed into one another as his fingers attack the spongy spot inside you, curling his fingers to rub and tease it whilst he moves to your other thigh. The initial bite made you squeal, but as he tugged at flesh and added another finger the squeal of pain turned into moans of pleasure. You felt him rut his hips into your ankle, his clothed dick straining against jeans. His head lifted from your leg, he craned his neck back slightly to look at you. Your blood smeared on his saliva coated chin, his tongue jutted out of his mouth licking at as much of the blood as he could manage. He growled as he swallowed, his eyes almost rolling back into his skull “You taste so fucking good. Anytime I get a taste of you, even just a smell of you. I go feral.” He scissored his fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out of you “Cum. Cum on my fingers Bunny. Like the little pain slut you are. You like this, don’t you? Like me slowly devouring you.” Your grip on his hair tightened and your hips raised off the chair, you pushed yourself further down his fingers trying to match his pace. His thrusts stopped. “Tell me, Bunny, or I won’t let you cum.” He snarled, giving you an intense glare.

You whimpered “I love it! Love you devouring me, feel so good!” You practically screamed, you were so close. He slapped your clit with the tips of his fingers

“That’s my good little slut.” He cooed, resuming his ministrations. His head dipped down, he took your sensitive bud in his mouth. Running his teeth over the hood of your clit ever so gently as his tongue flicked at it. You choked on a moan, throwing your head back as you came on his face. He swallowed down every single drop of your juices hungrily, the salacious slurping sound piercing through your blissed out haze causing your cheeks to burn red. “Fuckkkk. I should bottle this shit up and sell it, so sweet. I can’t get enough.” He groaned, sliding his tongue inside your clenching hole trying to drink as much of you as he possibly could. When he had sucked you dry he rose to his feet, he stroked your face with his palm running his thumb across your lip “Open.” You oblige “Good little Bunny.” He praises before shoving all three of his fingers that had been inside you down your throat “clean my fingers, Bunny. We’re going to the bedroom, I’m not done with you yet.”

Tag list:

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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

Welcome to my mind palace🦇

This is an 18+ blog Minors DNI. All of my content has a warnings section in red before it begins, you are responsible for the media consume. Please read at your own risk, only you know what you’re comfortable with.

I do not give permission to have my fics translated or posted elsewhere.

I try my best not to mention the physical appearance of readers, whether it be skin colour or body type. Unless I specifically mention it in my warnings section before the fic begins.

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Holometabolous metamorphosis (Dark!Mafia!Biker!Bucky x innocent!reader) part 1🖤🖤🖤❤️‍🩹

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I thought a depressing thought.

Because of Sebastion Stan's cat allergy, does that mean that we can't have Alpine in upcoming MCU movies? I know CGI exists, but I want a real white cat. Our Bucky Barnes needs his emotional support animal like in the comics.