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[shadowlessdeath]

[shadowlessdeath]

[shadowlessdeath]

What I’m watching now

[shadowlessdeath]

Today I found out that the guy who voiced Ron Stoppable in the series Kim Possible, is the same guy who voiced Peter Quill in Guardians Of The Galaxy series

[shadowlessdeath]

Bar on Jax

Years after the Winter Soldier killed the man closest to you, Finn, Bucky Barnes suddenly appears in your life, obligated to make amends by demand of his therapist.

a. Prologue

I. Autopilot

II. Only Him

III. Kill Kill

IV. Call

V. Bad Things

VI. Still

VII. Officer

VIII. Gauze

IX. Wait for…

The End.

✪

[shadowlessdeath]

Bar on Jax.

content warning here!

Prologue

“My name is James Bucky Barnes, and I am no longer the Winter Soldier.”

The shift had been long, and the surprise visit brought even more of a headache than the smell of sweat and alcohol could ever. Though the air was cold, the cramped bar had raised your body temperature to the point you were half-sure you’d developed a fever—the cold air on your face and arms calmed the churning of your stomach, and helped you fight the urge to be sick.

I know, you wanted to say, but the fear of throwing up kept you tight-lipped.

The street was quiet, dead, as it usually was, with dim and broken streetlights.

Quiet, dead…

“Don’t ever talk to me again,” you said lowly, before turning on your heel and walking in the opposite direction.

You knew, you knew, there was a difference between James and the Winter Soldier—you had always felt sorry for the man for his life being taken away from him for gory and unethical purposes. You didn’t blame him for Finn’s death—the rational, logical side of you didn’t, but the emotional side couldn’t look him in the eye, or hear his voice. Ever. Again.

You didn’t live far from the bar—a ten minute walk at a slow pace—but the walk back home felt like your lifetime. Trying so hard to get the images of that night out of your head, you listened to music at full volume, which you never did on a walk through this neighbourhood for fear of being distracted from potential threats—it wasn’t exactly a bad area, there were rarely crimes, but it had always given you a dodgy vibe; the apartment rent was suspiciously cheap, and the men who sat outside of the building at night had a habit of just watching, as if they were planning something, but they’d never done anything, and you doubted they ever would. The entire region just had this weird aura of dangerous anticipation.

You focused on nothing but the music as you hurried home, and made sure the playlist you put on had none of the songs you and Finn would sing together. You made sure you were so distracted, in fact, that you didn’t notice you had made it to your door until you tried to open it, snapped back to the reality by the realisation you needed your key.

The rest of your night went by in a blur, your eyes were blurry from holding back tears, your mind was blurry trying to sludge away bittersweet memories, everything was blurry.

Feeling weak on your knees, you stumbled to your bedroom and opened the closet, dropping to your knees and you pushed aside a few shoes boxes to grab the quilt. You pulled it out, unable to stop the tears from spilling on it. The man down the street had offered to sow some of Finn’s clothes together in order to make this blanket. When he had first died, you had slept with it every night, but you hadn’t seen a need for it recently, finally being able to pick your life up—get a new job, going for walks again, you were even considering finally adopting the pet you so desperately wanted and Finn had encouraged you to get—until James…

With a loud sob, you stuffed your face into the blanket, shoulders shaking as you cried.

How long you stayed there, you didn’t know, but eventually you managed to collect yourself. You couldn’t even get to bed, instead, you just curled up on the floor in Finn’s blanket.

Bucky was conflicted.

He hated his time as the Winter Soldier; the innocent lives he took, the torture he caused—but he felt no remorse over killing Finn.

He hated seeing you upset; you were sobbing uncontrollably, struggling to breathe—but, God, did you look pretty when you cried.

Bucky wanted you to himself, and watching you sleep wrapped in relics of Finn angered him. Bucky needed you to be his, and now, it seemed he would have to take more extreme measures to get you.

End of Prologue.

✪

Chapter I: Autopilot

[shadowlessdeath]

Hiii cutie-spud!! I have a request...vampire!bucky? I saw you liked vampires, and this potato likes vampires, so maybe we need a good dick down of vampire!bucky, making sure we can never leave him. After all, he found us, loves us like no other can, shouldn't we give our all to him?

🥔 ❤️ u

Warm

hi! oh my goodness! i’ve been a fan of your work for a few months, i’m so excited you know me! i feel like a but of a celebrity, i can’t lie. thank you so much! i love you! and i’m sorry this took forever—i’m the world’s slowest writer. i really hope you like this, omg—this is my first time doing a request. okay, here we go.

Vampire!Bucky saves you from a car wreck. 18+

Dub/Non Con Warning!

more content warnings here!

You slowly peel your eyes open, and almost immediately regret doing so—even though it’s dark out, the little light there is adds to your headache, worsening the ringing sound in your ears, and a soft, rhythmic thump. You consider closing your eyes again, slumping forward and drifting back off to the sleep, but that beating becomes louder, and more coherent.

“Hey… Hey… Hey…” is all you can make out, a gentle coo lulling you back to sleep, until an arm shoots through glass and a hand grips itself to the door handle on the inside. You scream and sit up, noting a sharp but dull pain in your neck as you do so.

“I’m sorry,” a voice calls, still sounding far away and obstructed by the ringing in your ears, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You gasp as the door flies open and a man holds out his arms and coaxes you into them.

Unsure of what’s happening, you fall out of your seat, but he catches you with his strong arms and gentle chants, “It’s okay, I’ve got you, it’s okay…”

You look up at where you had stumbled out from: a car—your car—the front of it squashed against a tree and smoking from the hood.

“My- My car,” you manage to croak as you hold your arms out toward it.

“You had an accident, it’s okay, I’ll call someone, let me just take you back to my place, is that okay?”

You hesitate but even through your hazy mind you manage to remember your phone had died somewhere on the drive down for the mountains—you had been camping with your friends! in a remote area—before the accident. But you left before them, and you were all taking the same route back to the city… how could they not have seen you? The ringing in your ears is dying down slightly and your surroundings are eerily quiet—just distant rustling and chirping. It’s dark, and it’s cold, so you must be outside, but you can’t see the moon—you can barely see anything. You look up and can make out just a few stars, the rest of them being covered by long, thin tendrils breaking into the night sky.

Branches. Trees! You’re in the woods.

“Is that okay?” he repeats.

You groggily look up at him and wince as you nod your head. He stands and effortlessly pulls you up with him; you squeal as he wraps a cold arm around your waist and raises you as he stands. Your feet are dangling off the ground for a moment until he gently sets you down, but keeps his hold on your waist. He brings his left arm over to your right arm and gently raises it to lay across his shoulders.

“There we go, good job,” he praises quietly as he takes a step forward, before asking if you’re able to walk. You take a step with him and sway slightly, head still spinning, but he catches you before you fall away from him and holds you slightly tighter against him.

“I can carry you,” he offers. You decline.

“You don’t seem like you have any major injuries—thank God—but you’re…” he slows down and drops the hand you have draped over his shoulders. He brings his fingers up to lightly touch your temple, to which you wince, “Sorry,” he mumbles, bringing his hand to his eyes, pale finger tips now stained with crimson, “You’re bleeding.”

You can barely make him out in the blackness of the forest and through your slightly blurred vision, but you swear his eyes flash with something… something you can’t name. But you can barely think about it; he swiftly picks your hand up again and starts walking.

It’s not possible to tell how long you were walking, but you can’t say it feels excruciating, your legs aren’t tired from the walk either; and you can’t tell the distance you’ve travelled, as you had just kind of zoned out, letting him do most of the work as you mindlessly pulled along.

But by the time you had reached a cabin, you were starting to regain a better form of comprehension, though your head was still aching.

You were grateful for the warmth of the cozy lodge, by size it was clear he lived alone.

“Thank you…” you say as he sets you down on a brown leather couch and hands you a blanket. You throw the warm cover over your shoulders and hold the corners together in the front as you settle a little more comfortably.

“Bucky,” he finishes for you with a smile.

“Bucky,” you complete your thanks, and give him your name in return.

“Does anything hurt?” he asks, calling over his shoulder as he ducks into a cupboard and begins rummaging around.

“My head’s killing me—apart from that, no,” you respond as he comes up, holding a small first aid kit in hand.

“Guess a concussion,” he says as he sits in a leather seat across from you, setting the bag down on the table next to it, “But here,” he lightly touches your left temple and you jerk away slightly. He pulls back to stare down at his fingers, “You’re bleeding… a lot. I think you need stitches.”

As he spoke he stared at his blood-painted fingers, for some reason making you uneasy. You shift uncomfortably and pull the blanket tighter around you. You lightly clear your throat and say, “I don’t need an ambulance or anything, but we should probably call someone to get my car, and, uhm, they can take me home.”

“I see a lot of you,” he says as he stands. Under the soft, yellow light of the cabin, you’re able to get a better look at him: he’s fair-skinned, tall, and strong with slightly wild hair, and even wilder eyes, fixated on you with a… hunger, like you’ve never seen; not just predatory, nearly inhuman altogether, “A lot of people come up and stay for no more than three days, and their biggest concern? Bears.”

He locks the door.

“When there’s much worse to fear out here.”

You’re unable to speak as he stalks towards you.

“And I’ve watched you, and I like you,” you shift up the couch, trying to put distance between you and him… or, you and… it.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, you didn’t seem to be having too good a time,” he sits in the spot you just were and watches you squirm slightly, before he simply places his hand on your ankle and you still, paralysed, “Looked like you wanted to enjoy the scenery, and I kept thinking, ‘She should have come alone.’”

You had wanted to come alone; though you loved Natasha and Yelena, they weren’t much into exploring, preferring to stay at camp around the fire and set to the hiking trails, which, absolutely, you enjoyed, but they didn’t want to stray too far from the set paths—though the location was remote, it was by no means unpopular, and everyone pretty much knew the safe places to stay. One night you had taken a stroll, and could have sworn you felt eyes on you.

“Your friends… they seem nice, sweet, even. And they were.”

The way he annunciates sweet. And… they were sweet? You don’t a chance at exactly comprehending him until he interrupts your thoughts in less than a moment,

“But I know you taste better.”

You gasp and push away further as cold fingers wrap around your ankle, but he’s pulled you down and is on you in a second, hovering above you with a smile; teeth impossibly white with… fangs.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your bleeding temple, pulling back to look at you with red lips. He flicks his tongue out and nearly moans at the taste, still grinning down at you.

Adrenaline coming from you don’t know where, you pull your knee in and punch up hard against his groin. He nearly falls on top to you with a grunt as he clutches his crotch, but you roll aside and tumble to the floor, hastily standing up as you dart for the door, manoeuvring around the coffee table and knocking stuff off the mantle of the fireplace in your rush to get to the door. Of course he’s faster, blocking the exit and pushing you down.

You shriek as you fall backwards, actually nearly falling into the fireplace, and he lands over you, skilfully sticking out his arms on either side of you so he doesn’t crash into you. With really nowhere to go but into the fire, you try to shift down underneath him, but he painfully grips your neck and tugs you back up, holding your head just above the fire. You grasp at his grip on your throat with one hand and hold yourself from dropping into the fire with the other, your elbow dangerously close and heating up, and strands of hair coming loose—you wonder how your hair hasn’t caught fire.

“How many men have said they’ll love you forever… and how many really can?” he questions, to which you can barely even hear through your circulation cutting off and the imminent danger of being burnt alive, “You know what I am,” he continues, lowly, dropping his lips to your ear, “You know what I can do.”

When he pulls away, you notice the steel blue eyes you had not known well have turned to a red, and that you feel like you know all too well; eyes that have been watching you.

He swings you down underneath him and you fly through his legs, gasping for air. Your head hits the wooden floor hard and starts up that ringing again.

He lifts you up easily and holds you to his chest. You struggle in his hood as he tries to calm you; “I saved you, remember? I’m not gonna hurt you; I could have left you to die, but I didn’t, see? Because you’re special, so special…”

You’re not sure where he’s walking to until he tosses you onto a bed. You can’t even bounce against the mattress before he’s got a knee between your thighs and has gathered your wrists into one of his hands, holding them above your head. You struggle underneath him, but he still he continues in a gentle voice, “I saved you, you owe me—in fact, this benefits you; I can make you feel good, you need it, angel.”

“Bucky, no,” you say, firmly, but he might as well not have heard it.

He brings his other hand down to rub circles on your thigh.

“You’re warm,” he notes, though you assume just about anything is warmer than him—he’s so cold it burns, like dry ice.

You (nearly) regret wearing shorts when he runs his cold hands up your thighs; you shiver, and not because of the cold.

There’s something so… otherworldly about his touch; it’s foreign, yet so familiar it scares you. He shifts down and lightly grazes his teeth over your thigh. You whimper in anticipation, and he smiles against your skin.

“And you’re soft…”

He does it; his fangs pierce your thigh, and you wince at the sharp sting, but you just can not bring yourself to push him away, or even kick anymore, there’s some primal need to have him, that disgusts you, your body completely betraying you to give up to a man from fiction, old wives tales—that’s all vampires were supposed to be.

But you’ve got one between your legs.

He sucks, yet more gentle than you thought, and not for long, drawing blood from you in short intakes. After just a few seconds he pulls away and looks up at you with red eyes and a grin, exposed sharp teeth stained in red.

This is quite literally the most danger you’ve ever been in; there’s no way in fucking hell you could escape a demon from there, from hell.

You press a hand to the thigh he bit, and bring your index and middle fingers up to stare at the two spots, watching as the red dots seep down to your palm with your mouth slightly open. You can not believe what’s happening, panic now really setting in.

It’s so odd, the juxtaposition between his soothing touches and dangerous nature. You’re near hyperventilating when he leans down to your neck. He pushes your hair away and brushes his lips against yours, breathing steady, while you stare up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling so fast you’re afraid it may burst. You bring your left hand up to smack him away, but he catches your wrist and softly sets your palm against his cheek.

“Did I scare you?” he whispers, and you can feel him suppress a smile, “I do like my damsels in distress…” he drawls, bringing his lips up to your ear, “But you’ll be okay; I saved you. Remember, honey?”

You press your palm down harder, trying to hurt him, but that just pushes him to kiss your neck. You jerk away and turn over on the bed, but he’s there in a flash, elbow propped up on the pillow, holding his cheek in his propped up hand.

“How many men have told you they’d love you for eternity, and how many really can?”

He raises himself up over you, and now he’s looking ravenous; you’re afraid he will literally devour you. Never breaking eye contact, he rips your shorts straight off, and tosses the torn fabric. He brings a hand between your thighs and lightly drags a cold finger over your slit, wet, to your embarrassment.

You expect him to mock you as he raises an eyebrow, but he quickly drops it and brings his hand up to run down the side of your face.

“It’s okay,” he coos, “You know you need this.”

He’s naked before you realise it, fair skin complementing his six pack and strong arms—you don’t stand a chance. He rips your shirt off, and you gasp at the fabric sliding against your skin, leaving you exposed to the relatively warm air of the cozy cabin, but your nipples still perk.

You manage to look at him: he’s fucking huge.

As if reading your mind, “You can take it,” he assures you as he slips your underwear off before lining up with you.

Slowly, he enters you with a low groan, and you gasp, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist and grasping at his back, trying to gain some bearings at the intrusion, whimpering. He starts to move at a slow pace, almost like he’s trying to restrain himself, panting as you squeeze around him.

He drops his head to your shoulder, his breathing heavy on your neck as he praises you, “Fuck, you’re so warm… feel so good, you’re doing great for me, angel… doing great.”

He can barely speak through his groans, but either way you can barely hear him, his voice drowned out by your moans as he thrusts into you at a steady enough pace, but still you can hardly take it; this is a different kind of pleasure—as he hits you in just the right spot again, and again, and again—but you can’t figure out why, and you don’t even care, breathing hard as you dig your nails into his back.

He presses his lips back to your neck, and your nerves scale up for a second when he starts harshly sucking, but only to leave a hickey, for sure.

“Bucky,” it’s such a broken plea you wonder if you even got his name out coherently.

“Can you come for me? Can you do that?”

He brings a hand down to circle your clit as his breathing becomes ragged and thrusts harder.

“I- Fuck!” you cry as you convulse, back arching up as you clench down on him. Seconds later he reaches his high, cursing as he comes inside of you, trying to catch his breath with a smile on his face, admiring your wrecked state.

“Good girl,” he breathes, “You did so well, angel.”

You try to turn over, but he grips your hip and pushes it back down, forcing your body to face back up at him.

“I can last forever.”

✪

[shadowlessdeath]

Ribs

Bucky Barnes: Mob!Bucky finds you. 18+ only.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of domestic violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical and verbal abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I can not stress this enough. I am fucked up.

Non Con Warning!

What’s scarier than dating Bucky? Leaving him.

You thought with dating the most notorious mob boss in New York, the biggest danger would be his enemies, no: the biggest threat to your safety was him. When you had first met him, you hadn’t known who he was, having only moved to New York a few months prior. He was charming, and he had an air of danger about him you couldn’t help but be attracted to; you thought it would be fun, a New York bad boy, he was all mysterious. You didn’t have any friends at the time, so no one could have warned you about who he really was, and by the time you found out, you were in too deep.

Maybe him being suspiciously rich should have raised a red flag, because even the most pretentious of the wealthy don’t take a limo to a bar, but he had, that first night you met him. The loud chatter had ever so slightly dimmed when he entered the bar, but you only thought it was because he was wearing an expensive suit, and though you rolled your eyes at the flashy display, you couldn’t help but stare at him as he made his way through the room—crowds parted, everyone tried to appear that they hadn’t noticed him, but it was crystal they had. You can’t not notice a man like that.

He disappeared into a back room with two men trailing behind him, and after a few minutes emerged looking slightly disheveled, but satisfied. You tried your hardest to focus on… something else when he sat down beside you and ordered a whiskey, but that was practically impossible when everything about him was magnetic. You chanced a look at him only to find him already staring at you, blue eyes twinkling with a mischievousness you couldn’t quite place and a small smirk. He had taken you home that night.

You hadn’t fled because of his business, selfishly, you could live with the fact he hurt other people—for a while, you could live with the fact he hurt you too, because he just had you captivated. He was harsh, brutal, but could also be loving, he bent over backwards to your every desire—say the word and he’d do it.

Except when you asked him to stop.

You had to leave New York altogether, you knew; he ran the whole fucking city, there was no way you could hide from him in the kingdom he ruled. You had struggled to pick where to go next, if you had had the money, you honestly would have left the fucking continent, started a new life in Namibia or Australia or Japan or however far away from him as you could get, but for now you were restricted to the States. Was Los Angeles too big a city for him to find you, or was it too obvious? Maybe he had people there, you had no idea. Would a small town be too quiet to scream for help, or so obscure he wouldn’t even think to look there?

You settled on a random town in Colorado.

You had ditched your phone the second you could—you had had to hold onto it a bit longer in order to get around, and received many calls and angry texts, but you had tossed it into a street somewhere in Oklahoma and picked up a random brick phone just to have. You thought you were being dramatic at first, taking all these measures, but no, James Barnes is the most powerful man in New York state, more powerful than you could have imagined when you first discovered who he was. He runs everything. He always gets what he wants, and he wants you.

I’ll find you you fucking cunt.

His last text message to you before you had destroyed your phone. You didn’t doubt he could.

You cut your hair, dyed it a shade darker, and spent the first month looking over your shoulder, jumping at shadows, barely speaking to anyone, unsure of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, even from so far away you remained cautious. Picking a job was difficult; if you got an office job, could he find out through fucking white collar records or something? If you got a job in retail, would someone recognise you and alert him?

You got a job at a bookstore—fairly quiet, and the rows of shelves seemed like good enough hiding places were he to hunt you down. Hunt.

In front of the mirror, you pull up your t-shirt to examine your ribs: the bruises are starting to fade, snd there’s only a dull pain when you run cold fingers over the light blue. The final reminders of the night you had feared for your life, the night you had decided you had to leave, were starting to fade.

Bucky had gotten violent many times before, but never had you feared for your life; you genuinely thought he was going to kill you.

He had come home fucking livid like you’d never seen before, and three months later you still had no clue as to why. At least when he had been drinking his blows were slightly less hard and you were sometimes (very rarely) able to outrun him and lock yourself in a bathroom for the night, but that night he was drunk purely on anger.

You were genuinely surprised he hadn’t broken your ribs; just hit after hit until you could barely breathe—you thought you’d suffocate. Turns out he had fractured your right foot, but even still you left New York limping badly, knowing if you stopped even to just get it checked out, you’d never make it out the city.

Here, in your new town, you got your foot checked out and fixed up by a friendly doctor, Dean, who you’d taken a liking to. Though it was a bit worse for wear considering you’d left it unchecked for a week, and even now you still couldn’t walk quite right, he assured you you’d make a full recovery.

Dean and you had been growing closer, and you thought he would eventually ask you out, until one day he stopped visiting you at work—usually he’d come in every Wednesday afternoon, but he hadn’t, and you couldn’t reach him online. You even went into his practice, but his assistant had said he’d just taken a camping trip. Your stomach twisted, but you left it, and took he had just gone away for a while.

Deep down, you knew.

The third Wednesday afternoon Dean hasn’t dropped it. You walk back to your place a little down; despite not knowing him well, you were really growing to like him.

You sigh, kicking off your shoes as you enter your apartment and into the pile by the door. You turn on the lights as you make your way through the small place, still limping slightly: corridor, light on; kitchen, light on; living room, light on.

You can’t even say your blood runs ice cold, more like it freezes in your veins.

Bucky is seated comfortably in your armchair, of course nursing a drink, face entirely stoic, and eyes fixated on yours, as if he had been staring at that exact spot for hours, knowing you would fall into his line of vision.

But the door was locked, you want to cry, How did he get in. No windows are broken, nothing.

“Sweetheart,” he coos as he sets his drink on the side table, “I’ve missed you.”

“Why?” is all you can muster, barely a whisper, more like a nearly silent whistle in wind, one you can only hear if you were to really strain for it, and if you knew what to listen for. Why is he here? After three fucking months, you thought (hoped) he’d just lost interest—this can’t be the first time he’s had a girl run away from him considering how he treated you. Why is he so set on this? You can only imagine it’s stubbornness and pride, not wanting to lose a prize, no matter how ill he treated it. And why you?

Of course, though, you can’t articulate any of these thoughts, you can barely even think them, can’t process them, all turning to a light buzz in your in your mind, one that could be mistaken for pure static—just absence of thought. No thoughts, all thoughts, you can’t even care about.

“Of course I missed my favourite girl,” he offers, a lopsided smirk forming on his handsome features, “Sit,” he instructs, so gently you wonder if you’ve imagined it—a very direct order (and you know he doesn’t like to be disobeyed), yet delivered in the softest manner.

The bruises on the right of your ribcage sting as you stare back at him, unmoving. Bucky never repeats himself, and he doesn’t now, seeming to overlook your defiance (though really it’s shock) as he leans forward slightly and begins speaking to you.

“You’re a smart girl, I can tell from how you really tried to cover your traces when you left, huh? You’re a smart girl, so why would you do something so stupid?”

He stands, and you stumble back with a whimper at a harsh misstep on your injured foot.

“And now you’re out here all alone… you need someone to take care of you; look at you, honey,” he gestures to your foot, and if you could get your vocal chords to work, you would scream at him that he did this.

He stalks towards you, and where the sudden adrenaline comes from, you have no idea, but you dart for the front door. He’s on you in a second, slamming your head against the door and watching you slide down. He stands over you a foot on either side of your body and looks down on you, slightly amused.

He’s pure evil.

It occurs to you the front door is locked anyway, you’re caged under him in the narrow corridor, and so you try to crawl through his legs, but he turns and grabs you by your injured foot.

You shriek in pain and desperately try to claw forward, but he tugs you back and twists harshly so you have no choice but to turn over or risk him twisting your fucking foot off.

With more strength than you’ve ever mustered, you swing your left foot up and kick him hard in the crotch. He howls in pain as he drops your foot.

“You fucking bitch!”

You scramble to stand and dart for your bedroom, hoping to climb out the window. He limps after you, and you cry out as he grabs a fistful of hair and tugs you back. You manage to stumble into the bedroom. He grips the doorway and you slam the door after him, hearing a deafening crunch and a yell behind you. You push your back against the door, planting your feet firmly in the ground and trying with all your bodyweight to keep him out, but he easily blows it in, and you fall forward.

You start screaming at him and kicking, but he catches your legs, leaving you to only pathetically wiggle underneath him. He leans down and shouts, “Shut the fuck up!” bringing down a hand you feebly attempt to grasp to stop him, but he slaps you, “You’re a fucking cunt!”

You assume you’re crying, but you can’t feel anything on your cheeks but the sting of his hand.

He drops down to his knees and straddles you easily, despite your struggling against him. He punches you in the face, his rings leaving deep cuts against your cheek. Again, and again, and again, until his knuckles are bloody from the cuts he’s left. You attempt to cough but he brings a fist down and punches your throat. You can barely gasp before he grabs your neck and pulls you up close to his face.

His voice is dangerously low as he drawls, “You’re lucky I have the decency to fuck you on the bed.” He spits in your face and slams your head back down into the floor. He gets off you and, before you can even move, kicks you in the ribs; you can feel the bruises—the healing bruises, they were healing—bloom once again against your skin, against your bones. You roll over before he grabs your left arm, twisting harshly and pulling you across the small room.

You feel your shoulder pop out of place and scream louder than you ever have in your life, an intense white hot pain shooting across your shoulder as it’s dislocated. You can’t even beg him to stop through your sobs and unbearable pain, you can’t breathe, you want to throw up.

This time, you almost wish he does kill you. You wish for him to kill you.

He pulls you up onto the bed, your shoulder blade sliding further across your nerves and sparking pain as intense as the first few seconds all over again. He tosses his suit jacket to the side as you try to sit up. He presses down hard against your injured shoulder, and you choke on your own cry, suffocating more than screaming, at this point.

He punches up from your chin and your head lolls back, your teeth hitting each other harshly, before he uses the opportunity to grasp your throat with one hand, tearing your skirt off with the other.

It’s too painful to struggle other than weakly kicking your legs, which he effortlessly ignores, maybe he doesn’t even feel it.

Mind over matter, Mind over matter, Mind over matter—

You repeat to yourself when you hear him spit in his hand and softly groan as he runs his hand up and down his cock. You don’t even know when he unbuckled his belt.

You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing; Mind over matter, mind over matter, mind over matt—

He head-buts your forehead, effectively pulling you out of your attempted mental respite. Bucky is scary; he looks down at you with wild eyes, and you hadn’t noticed blood dripping from his temple. You briefly wonder how much blood you’re covered in when he interrupts your thoughts; “Stay with me, bitch.”

“Please stop,” you finally find words rather than shrieks, your voice hoarse and words slurred, like you’ve never spoken before.

He just smiles—smiles—and then thrusts into you, stretching you open, not giving you any time to adjust to his massive length before pounding into you, beyond rough, beyond violent, he’s a fucking mad man, he’s feral. You attempt to grab onto his shoulders and pry him off but your own shoulder hinders you. You weakly punch at him with your right hand, but he doesn’t feel it, and at this point, you’re just exhausted. Throat hoarse, head aching, shoulder burning, foot in pain, and your ribs on fire.

He lets go of your throat and feels around on the bed for his jacket, pulling something out of the inner pockets.

Before you can even process it, he places his other hand over your mouth and presses something cold and metal to your knee. He fires the gun, the bullet flying from the front of your kneecap, shattering the cartilage, and resting in your flesh. He presses down harder on your mouth so your scream is completely guttural.

“Try leave me now,” he pants as she shoots out your other kneecap.

He presses the gun to the right side of your rib cage, digging into the bruises, “Next time you leave me will be in a fucking body bag.”

Ribs (II)

✪

[shadowlessdeath]

Tempest

Bucky Barnes: The storm brewing outside is nothing compared to the one in here.

An entry for day nine of the exciting @sintember challenge!

Prompt: Tempest, ft Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Warnings: severe anxiety; hints and mentions of claustrophobia (and it’s a bit of a theme that carries throughout); chasing; physical abuse. 18+!

The house rocks as you slam the door shut behind you, half the force coming from your worry and the other half by nature’s ire. You had really cut it close getting last minute supplies, and on the short drive back from the mall, you actually worried you’d cut it too close as your car was nearly thrown off the road. A hurricane was starting, bad, but not severe enough to warrant any measures too drastic. Still, you decided to play it safe—though one could argue that rule was broken when you were driving in the beginning of a storm.

You drop the shopping bag on the kitchen counter, no sign on Bucky. Usually he sits on one of the stools at the island waiting to rummage through whatever you had picked up for plums. Of course, you had.

“Bucky?” you call as you pop the fruit into the fridge. The rest was either canned or packets of goodies, which you stuffed into the kitchen cupboard before heading to the living room.

“Bucky?” you call again as the house rocks again, and maybe he didn’t hear you over the noise.

Maybe he was in the basement. You quickly jog back to the kitchen to grab a bag of chips and start your decent to the basement. A basement was really unnecessary for the life you and Bucky live, but this house, you had both fallen in love with at first sight (much like how you two first met) and purchased it together. It was practically empty; you thought it could at least be useful for storage, but you two didn’t have anything unneeded; it was either useful, and therefore in use, or not in the house. It was at least a safe place were something like a tornado to hit. You hadn’t been down in years, not since you first bought the place. Bucky went down there every two or three months to stop it being overrun by dust bunnies, but that was it.

Lately, Bucky had been having nightmares, more often than usual, and you always got the feeling he was trapped; trapped in his body that had done so much against his will, and it worried you when the storm warning was issued: he was trapped once again.

“Bucky?” you call as you open the door to the basement. It’s pitch black, so you assume he’s not down here, but to be sure, you flick on the lights. Staring back at you is your husband, seated perfectly still, facial expression stone, legs positioned and back straight in a way one is taught is perfect posture, with his palms resting on his knees.

“Hi, Buck,” you greet, smiling as you make your way down. He doesn’t smile back, doesn’t greet back, he remains a statue, only bright blue eyes following your movement. They’re not bright, they’re dark.

“You’re scaring me a bit,” you admit with a nervous laugh when you hold out the bag of chips to him and he makes no move to take them, doesn’t even look at them, gaze still boring straight into your soul. He’s always seen right through you, but now, it’s not an understanding he’s attempting to achieve, you can’t tell what it is. Intimidation?

“Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

You take a step back, physically unable to gasp despite your desire to as you feel your air flow cut off by his words, only able to throw a hand over your mouth. But… why would he? What happened? He can’t slip back unless someone says so, can he? This isn’t your husband. This is…

“Soldat?” you whisper, lowering your cupped hand from your mouth slightly so he can hear you. You think he missed it for a second due to your small voice, but he stands.

Of course Bucky is taller than you, but even if he wasn’t, this isn’t just a height different, he towers over you like the dark clouds tower over your home outside; he towers over you in demeanour alone; he could be kneeling right now but still, that stare would let you know your place immediately.

What do you do? Of course you want to help him, but this isn’t Bucky; what can you do? Even if by the Lord’s greatest miracle, there was not even a wisp of a chance you stood against the world’s deadliest assassin.

But why would he hurt you? You were absolutely no one special, no powers or access to anything to do with the Avengers, intel or otherwise. It didn’t make sense for him to attack you. But that absolutely was not a risk you were willing to take.

You’re trembling, shaking harsher than the winds were rocking the trees, you felt like one of them, maybe; just a part of nature, pretty much inconspicuous, caught in a harsh tempest.

You throw the bag at him, turn, and run; there was no way in hell you could go outside, but maybe you could lock him in the basement. You practically fly up the stairs, and you swear he’s taunting you as he takes each step up slowly, but hitting the stairs with his steps more harshly than he otherwise would.

You slam the door shut, but despite his calm pace, he’s somehow made it to the top, and slams the door open, throwing you back. You groan as you scramble to stand and dash to the kitchen. What could you do? Get a knife? You would never hurt him, of course, never, but maybe you could scare him off? That was such a ridiculous thought you nearly rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t; you needed vision. And just as you have that thought.

The lights trip.

The winds beat against the window, but nowhere near as fast as your beating heart. You try to calm down as you duck into the cupboards under the sink, hoping you could hear him coming. His footsteps had stopped, but you knew that by no means meant he had; he could be deadly silent, you know this. You strain to hear for the faintest sound of him, but you can barely hear the storm outside over your heavy breathing and blood thumping through your ears. You cup your hand over your mouth, and as much as you want to rock yourself back and forth as you hug your knees, you don’t dare risk any movement, already stressed out of your mind as your body works as always; every blood cell rushing through your veins is way too loud; he’ll hear it, he’ll hear you.

The storm rages, but the house remains dead, not even the regular creak of the pipes, it’s like your home is just as terrified of him and is hiding, making you feel exposed despite your claustrophobic situation.

How long can you wait here? It’s not safe, but neither is leaving. Maybe you can lock yourself in the basement instead, but you don’t know where the key is. Does the basement even lock from inside? There were no locks on any other door in the house considering it was just the two of you.

Either way, you’re fucked. You are so fucked. Beyond fucked.

You count to a hundred, but even time doesn’t calm your nerves, doesn’t do anything to stop your body from acting as if you’re in danger. And why should she?—you are.

One hundred, and you open the cupboard door quickly because you know it creaks. You can’t even consider your luck it stays quiet at the sight you’re met with: The Winter Soldier, crouched in front of your hiding place, dead gaze locked on you. It’s dark, and in any other circumstance, it would be too dark to make out such detail, but you see his face very clearly.

You briefly consider just closing the door again—maybe he’ll stay there—but you don’t have time to consider a next course of action when you’re suddenly roughly grasped by the elbow and yanked out of the cabinet. You shriek as your thrown onto the ground. Once again, you inelegantly manage to get yourself back to your feet, and you run again. He’s fucking with you at this point, because he could effortlessly have crushed you under his shoe right then and there. You don’t even think you’ll die directly by his hands; he’ll cause you a heart attack and that’s how he’ll kill you.

You know the Winter Soldier is the deadliest human force there is, but his ability to appear seemingly out of thin air when you have the hint of a hopeful thought to taunt you once again is borderline magic, it has to be. Your subconscious mind—let alone your conscious mind—can’t even get the thought of saving yourself going, stopped a few words, a few letters in, when you spin around to face him.

Lightning strikes and, right out of a horror film, illuminates him at the end of the corridor.

You stumble backwards into the basement and fumble around for a latch or something? You don’t even know this place well enough to know the basic things like how it locks, and if it does lock from the inside. Unfortunately, you don’t have the time to figure that out as once again the door is blown open and sends you tumbling down the stairs that feel like they’ll never end as you roll and bounce violently. You’re at least lucky the force didn’t send you literally flying into the opposite wall and break your spine, but you’re certain you’ve at least egregiously bruised a rib at the end of your fall—you refuse to believe it’s broken—dropping onto the bag of chips.

“Bucky,” you try, as you grasp at your ribs and watch him as he slowly and rhythmically descends the stairs, “Bucky, please.”

He’s here, at the bottom of the steps, looking down on you with a face so still you half expect it to remain that way forever, but it doesn’t; his expression adjusts ever so slightly; the corner of his lip barely, barely, twitches up, but you see it, he does it.

This isn’t The Winter Soldier, this is Bucky. This your husband.

He kicks you in the ribs, and if they weren’t broken before, they definitely are now, and there’s no way you can deny it. You want to pass out, you wish so badly to be knocked unconscious, have that heart attack you were anticipating, even die, just anything to end this sight: the sight of you husband consciously harming you.

✪

[shadowlessdeath]

You Can Cry

Bucky Barnes: Biker!Bucky takes a liking to a sensitive girl. 18+ only!

content warnings here!

You wipe away tears as you impatiently wait for your ride to arrive, tapping your foot and hugging yourself. You don’t know why you always get so emotional, get brought to tears so easily, and your sensitivity slightly angers you, being irritated that you still cry like a child at the most silly things.

Your date had only laughed when you stared at him blankly, asking him to explain his joke again, and the rational part of you was sure he didn’t mean any harm, the rational part of you was sure it was lighthearted—he was a nice guy—but still you felt that familiar sting in your eyes at the response.

Even when you brought the night to a close, you refused a ride home from him, denying it so harshly he was stuck at the table for a bit when you stormed out, hot tears staining your cheeks, and you didn’t see him leave—maybe he was still inside and talking up another girl who didn’t take every little thing so personally.

“You sad, pretty girl?”

You startle at the voice and snap your head up to follow the sound, leading your eyes to a tall man wearing a leather jacket, leaning against the wall of the next building over to the restaurant you had stomped out of. He cards a hand through his hair and steps forward, and instinctively you step back, feeling an air of danger about him, darker than just a mugger in the night.

You wipe away the last of your tears and sniffle softly before quickly bring your focus back to the street, mentally pleading for your driver to pull up, too scared to fish your phone back out of your bag to check how far he was, and clutching your purse tighter.

He groans, “Please, sweetheart, I’m talkin’ to you.”

“No,” you reply, quietly, not making a move to look back up at his captivating blue eyes, a slight fear that if you look back at him, you’ll never be able to look away again. Or he’ll be the last thing you see, “I’m not.”

“You sure, princess?” he takes another step toward you, and this time you can’t muster up the courage to move away, frozen still, “Looked like you were cryin’.”

You grow irritated not with him but more with yourself, for somehow having shown such weakness to a man in the shadows—but how could you have known?

“I wasn’t,” you lie, finding yourself holding back tears again, begging any higher power out of the dozens believed to help you out just this one time and have your driver pull around the corner. The streets are empty and quiet, the only two people in the world you and him, and the only noise his painstakingly slow footsteps towards you, and your rapidly beating heart, “I wasn’t,” you repeat again, predicting you would sound more confident, but your voice cracks, and you wince at the sound of his sigh in response.

“Aw, don’t cry,” you gasp as he suddenly pulls you flush against his chest, caging your body to his with his right arm pressing into your lower back and his left gently gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. A smile spreads across his gorgeous face as your tears well up. You want to look to the sky to stop drops from falling, but you can’t, not because of his light grip, but because of that sadistic glint in his eyes, absolutely fascinating you.

A drop spills from an eye, and he tilts his head, watching it roll down your cheek. Your eyes glisten with tears and his glisten with delight, relishing in each drop that rolls down your cheek, as you can do nothing but stare up helplessly at him, paralysed by fear.

He leans down and presses a light kiss on your cheek, one you might have found loving if given to you by someone close.

“You’re so pretty,” he remarks, bringing his other hand up to cup your face, unconcerned with keeping you near, knowing you can’t move if you tried. He rubs calloused thumbs across your cheeks, wiping the tears away as he admires your features, “So pretty, doll,” he murmurs, gaze roaming your face until they land on your terrified eyes, and he smiles again.

“What? Never learned how to take a compliment, princess?”

You blink up him, starting to tremble very slightly, your mouth slightly agape. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you manage a meek, “Thank you…”

“Bucky,” he mumbles.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you repeat, just wanting him to let you go, at this point completely disinterested with where your driver is, just him to leave you alone.

“Now, won’t you tell a nice guy like me why you’re cryin’? Did someone hurt you?”

You shake your head weakly, willing yourself to just stop fucking crying.

“Don’t lie to me,” he grips your face slightly firmer, not hard, but enough to make you understand his determination, “Did some guy make you cry, angel?” he asks, gently.

Despite your better judgement, you nod; maybe that is the best judgement, to just respond the way he wants so he might just leave you alone. No, your compliance is only seeming to spur him on, as shown by a pity frown taking shape on his face, and you can’t quite place if he’s mocking you or trying to seem more empathetic in some weird way.

“No, a sweet girl like you?” he places a kiss on your forehead, “You’re precious, angel.”

You shift uncomfortably, unable read the situation, unable to tell if he’s just fucking with you or if he feels bad. And you don’t have to, because just as he pulls away to look at you, you hear tyres against gravel, a car pulling around the corner, snapping you out of your… trance, and whipping your head to see a white corolla.

“Stay beautiful, doll,” Bucky says, and he slips into the shadows before you can grasp it. Cold air rushes against your cheeks—you hadn’t realised his hands were relatively warm—making you feel more exposed. For good measure, you quickly wipe away tears before hoping into the car with a smile to your driver.

Your date texts you the next morning, apologises for upsetting you—even though he doesn’t know how—and asks for a redo, or a second date, kinda, he puts it. With a clear mind, you do feel bad for being so dramatic and overly sensitive last night, and thinking back on it, a little rude with how short you were being with him when all he did was laugh lightly, it wasn’t malicious. He was a nice guy. You’re still shaken from the previous night, but maybe a casual date will relax you.

You agree, and he immediately responds, suggesting another restaurant for that evening.

You feel very pretty in your dress as you enter the restaurant and sit at table. You had arrived only 10 minutes late, so maybe you should just give him more time to show up. You didn’t want to order, but the waitress seemed to be getting impatient, and so you order something light and ate alone. An hour and he still wasn’t here. Your plate is cleared away, barely anything touched, and a few teardrops splashed at the edges.

You’re sniffling in the corridor of your apartment as you fumble with your keys and stumble in, trying not to completely break down as you kick off your shoes and head straight for your bedroom, thinking that you could escape some crying if you just fell asleep.

You’re sobbing quietly as you enter, pushing the door behind you, not even caring that it didn’t really close, ready to flop onto bed.

“You sad, pretty girl?”

You gasp and spin to the sound of that familiar voice, the same words being spoken in the same tone as the previous night.

Bucky pushes the door and this time it clicks shut. He looks up at you, and his blue eyes catch the moonlight in a soft yet sinister manner, causing you to stumble back. You can barely see him through the tears blurring your vision and the dark room.

“Bucky?” you whisper, unnecessarily, seeing as of fucking course it’s Bucky.

He bends his head back slightly with a smile, “I love the way you say my name, doll. Can you say it again for me?”

You take a few steps back, heart racing faster than you ever thought it could, and let out a quiet shriek as your heel hits the foot of your bed and your fall back onto it. Bucky is hovering over you in a flash, one hand propping him up and his right slipping under your dress to rub soothing circles on your thigh.

“Did he stand you up?” he leans down, lips between your ear and neck, “He doesn’t like you, princess.”

You try not to let out a sound, but you can’t stop a choked sob from escaping, and he smiles against your neck. You turn your head away, but he stays near, his voice hovering just above your ear, “He doesn’t like you, and he can’t take care of you, sweetheart, he can’t.”

Despite your efforts, another choked gasp escapes you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping he’ll just go away.

“You’re shaking,” he notes, changing his circular motions from clockwise to anti, “Are you scared, doll? Am I scaring you?”

“Yes!” you gasp as he kisses your neck.

“No…” he replies against your skin, faux-disbelief coating his tone, “But I won’t hurt you, angel; he will.”

He lies down next to you and brings his left hand up to stroke your face, “It’s okay, you can cry,” he coaxes, and you do, breath escaping your lungs in short gasps as tears fall and he wipes them away, kissing your neck and still rubbing circles on your thigh, “You can cry…”

His thumb slides to your inner thigh and you squirm, but he quickly stops you by harshly gripping your thigh. Once he’s sure you won’t twist again, he runs his finger up and down your inner thigh with a sigh.

“You’ll learn to love this, doll, but for now… you can cry…” he shifts downward and pulls your dress up, “A sweet girl like you’s gotta taste sweet too.”

✪

[shadowlessdeath]

𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 '𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐥 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ☽☾  Incubus!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ☽☾ 1.1k Warnings ☽☾ Swearing, pet names, smut (tail monsterf-cking, praise + degradation + daddy + choking kink) Author's Note ☽☾ *hides*

Events ➷ ☽☾ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer | Week 6 - Spread Open + Tied Down | Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist ☽☾ @mcukinkbingo Ｏ４ - Using magic during sex | Bingo Masterlist

Depths of Pleasure Masterlist

Bucky’s magic was something that you’d only experienced on a few occasions. Though, his plans this time would leave you begging for it again, and again, and again.

“You keep squirmin’ like that, honey, and you’ll make it worse for yourself.”

While implicit with threat and the delivery subtle, the words roped you in, and you froze. 

Bucky’s knees were on either side of your hips, caging and pinning you down against the mattress – his hands roamed your sides. They brushed up your arms until one hand gripped your wrist, the other flat by your head so he could loom over you. 

Bright fangs gleamed in the warm light of your bedside lamp, and black irises bled through stormy grey – hypnotising and slow, like the bleed of ink on wet paper. 

“There you go, sweet thing,” Bucky purred, his lips pulling taut in a smug grin. “Have your attention now, don’t I?”

You stared up at him, eyes wide and heart racing – and dammit all, you squirmed. Testing the waters of just what extent he would go to, and by god, did you regret it the moment your hips shifted. 

Bucky stared down at you, his lips morphing from a smug grin to a cheshire smile. “Oh, baby–shouldn’t’a done that.”

“Wha–” The bedroom darkened as Bucky unfurled his wings, encapsulating you and the bed. “Bucky!”

“Don’t you stress that pretty lil’ head of yours, honey,” Bucky cooed, his thumb brushing your cheek. “I’ve gotchu.” The warm feel of Bucky’s tail brushed against your shins, and you opened your mouth to speak when Bucky clicked his tongue. “Silence, little lamb.”

The click of his fingers sounded right next to your ear, and your arms were forced to your sides, turned up to the top corners of your bed. 

“This won’t do. Give me just a minute…” Bucky’s weight left your thighs, and he clicked his fingers again. Your legs jolted to the sides, making you lay spread wide, bound by an invisible rope, and still beneath him. “There you go,” Bucky soothed, shuffling up the bed so his weight settled heavily onto your lower stomach. “Much better now, huh?”

“I don’t understand–”

“Shh,” Bucky hushed, his thumb pressing against your lower lip. “Don’t need you to understand, sweetheart. You know you’re safe, you’re fine–jus’ lemme try this. I want to see what’ll happen, wanna see how far I can make your fuckin’ eyes roll.”

Confusion flooded you, accompanied by a foreboding apprehension, and Bucky sensed as much. “You want out; you know your word, honey.” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. “Good girl,” Bucky praised, his tone low and soothing. “Now, don’t you keep quiet on me.”

You furrowed your brow and bit your lip. “Okay- Oh! Fuck, fuck!”

The tip of Bucky’s tail thrummed against your clit, the speed increasing the more you squirmed. His devilish grin said it all. He tilted his head as his hand cupped the front of your throat, squeezing the sides with enough pressure to make you gasp. “Oh, what the fuck,” you squealed, your entire body bowing inwards the faster his tail flicked. 

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” Bucky hissed, the hand on your throat pushing you back onto the bed. “You can’t move, sit the fuck still for daddy,” he ordered, voice dark. You opened your mouth to object, but he bared his teeth. “Do as you’re fuckin’ told.”

“Okay, okay,” you rushed, tensing your hands into a fist on instinct to pull. “Sorry, please just- I need–”

“I know what you need,” Bucky purred, his wicked grin returning. “And you will, I promise, honey. How ‘bout…”

Everything froze. Your chest seized, and your thighs pulled against the invisible bonds of magic, desperately trying to entice the pressure or pull away; you weren’t sure. “Oh, baby, you’ll take it,” Bucky whispered, his tail brushing against your weeping entrance. “Your pussy’s just so fuckin’ hungry that she’ll take anything I’ve got to give her, huh?”

“Oh, fucking–”

The sudden rush of feeling full cut every process in your mind, whiting out any words or retorts you would fire at the demon above you, and you keened loudly.

“Tha’s it, sweetheart.” Bucky grinned, his hand squeezing the sides of your throat. “Take it–take it like you would my cock, make daddy proud.”

The girth fit so snuggly in your walls that it pressed against the entirety of your cunt without trying, and each insistent press against the rough patch made your vision blur. “Please! Fucking- Please, oh my-”

“It just feels so good, huh, honey? Can’t help but purr for daddy–like a good slut.” The words were punctuated with lethally precise movements, and you moaned loudly, wriggling against the restraints. “Aw, sweet thing, don’t tell me you’re gonna try and escape.”

“No! No, fuck,” you gasped, your chest heaving. “Feels s’good, don’t stop-”

“I won’t,” Bucky said simply, and he leant down to come nose to nose, his breath hot on your lips. “You’re gonna cum for me until you pass out before I stop, baby.”

Your nerves ignited and sparked, spreading white-hot pleasure through your core, and the first wave of a climax began. “Ah! Please, I’m cumming!”

“Good,” Bucky purred, his tongue licking his lips. “Let it out, honey. Give it to me.” Blinding pleasure tore through you, and you screamed, your back bowing to the ceiling under Bucky’s bulk. “Tha’s a good girl–good fuckin’ girl.”

Whimpers fell from your lips as his tail kept its movements at pace, drawing out your orgasm with every precise brush of muscle. “That was- Oh my fucking–!”

“I said I would keep fuckin’ goin’ till you pass out, sweetheart.” A shadow loomed through your half closed lids as his tail picked up speed again, and you opened them to see Bucky hovering close – eyes still black as ebony, and glinting maliciously. “And you seem perfectly awake to me. Let’s change that.”

“You’re impossible,” you moaned, your lips pulling into a lazy smile. “Fuck.”

“You haven’t seen nothin’ yet, sweet thing.” Bucky shifted his weight again, his wings twitching while his tail picked up speed – insistently pressing itself against the rough patch of your heat and whiting out your vision. “You’re gonna cum for your daddy,” he said, voice low. A high keen tore from your throat as another wave of a climax started, the weight of Bucky’s palm pressing down on your lower stomach. “Again and again,” he continued against the shell of your ear, his tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your neck. “And again. Now, c’mon–squeeze daddy’s tail like you would his cock, you slut.”

Bucky’s tail started a steady pump in and out of your cunt – each slide felt like an impalement, and you panted harshly, still twisting the invisible binds. “Daddy! Daddy, fuck, please, I wan-”

“You can cum, c’mon.” The words were followed by a harsh squeeze at the sides of your throat and a hard press against your lower stomach. “I will fuckin’ milk all that cream outta you, sweet thing. I have fuckin’ eternity to do so. Now cum for me.”

Another orgasm cascaded over you like a tidal wave, and you screamed – ignorant of Bucky’s praises and filthy words, only able to focus on the rush of mind-numbing pleasure caused by that fucking tail. 

Again, and again, and again.

↠  𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ↞

[shadowlessdeath]

𝐀 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ☽☾ Incubus!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ☽☾ 1.8k Event ☽☾ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer | Week 3 - Kneeling Warnings ☽☾ Pet names, swearing, fluff, smut (oral f receiving, squirting, praise + daddy + begging kink) Author's Note ☽☾ Horns, wings, and tail. I need not say 'more.

Depths of Pleasure Masterlist | Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

It wasn’t a spell you were under, no – you were under so much deeper than that, and Bucky was the only one that knew how to help you. After all, he promised he would.

The sun had started to set as you cleaned the kitchen. Dinner had been a simple meal for two, and Bucky had made his gratitude known by promising you a treat. He stood behind you, watching your every move as you cleaned up the kitchen with his darkened eyes, you couldn’t help but allow the flames to start licking, curling up your spine. 

His attention was addicting, and you wanted a hit. Desperately.

“You almost done, honey?” Bucky asked, his voice honeyed and low, the tone that he knew you couldn’t resist, and your thighs clenched on instinct – completely out of your control. “I want dessert, and you’re smelling perfectly sweet, baby.”

“Almost,” you said back, voice remaining strong despite the overwhelming urge to drop the plate in your hand into the sink and run to him. “Why don’t you- Oh.”

The heat from his body as he stood behind you enveloped you – his hands, insistent and firm in their trail around your middle to pull you against his chest. You felt his chin tuck into the juncture of your neck. “Daddy’s hungry, sweetheart– why you makin’ him wait?”

A quiet whimper left your lips, and the sudden prickling of your skin where his hands rested made a sheen of sweat stick to your forehead. “Just lemme finish this, Bu-”

“No,” Bucky growled, squeezing your middle tighter, and he bit softly down on your neck, just by your pulse point, before he released to trail his forked tongue over the indentations left behind by his fangs. “Wanna taste you now, sweet thing.”

“Patien- Ah!” 

The kitchen whirled, and black irises bore into your face, the movement of the inky depths hypnotising. “Not the way I wanted to hear that sound from you tonight, honey,” Bucky purred, and a dull heat began to simmer under your skin. “Now, ‘m not using my magic on you because I know you wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

His stance changed to be far too close, and you shivered when his arms caged you against the counter, his stare pinning you in place. The feeling of being small while he towered over you added to the dizzying arousal pitting and swirling in your stomach. It was getting hard to breathe, and you willed your heart to slow down, not that it listened in the slightest.

“Uh-huh,” you breathed, and Bucky smiled, fangs and teeth glinting in the light. 

“Tha’s what I thought, sweetheart.” The heat from Bucky’s hands as he grabbed your arms burned so fiercely that it made you whimper. “Give daddy what he wants, baby,” he whispered, ducking his head to place soft kisses along your throat. “Be his good slut, huh? C’mon.”

Desperation clawed your insides and made its home low in your hips, the ache and pulse of need too much to ignore – you knew he wasn’t using his magic because you weren’t floating just yet. This was just pure lust. 

“Please,” you murmured, and Bucky’s head came away from your neck; a slight tilt made his hair cover his cheek. “I want it, please.”

Bucky grinned, wetting his lips with his forked tongue while his nostrils flared. “Knew you wanted it, honey, can fuckin’ smell it,” he said simply, as though those words didn’t cause a wave of slick to drench your panties. You nodded dumbly and walked on unsteady legs towards the bedroom when Bucky tutted. “Where do you think you’re goin’, baby?”

“To bed?” You questioned, gesturing towards the open bedroom door. 

Chuckling darkly, Bucky shook his head and sauntered over until you were crowded against the hallway wall. “I didn’t say I wanted you there, sweet thing. I want you now.”

To your utter shock, Bucky stepped closer, his nose brushing yours, before he knelt down on the floor, his face level with your hips as he looked up at you; eyes black with more than desire. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped. The sight of Bucky on his knees sent your mind reeling, gears and thoughts screaming to a halt for the vision in front of you. “Bucky.”

The smirk that pulled at the corner of his full lips was downright sinful, devilish, and hungry – it was too much. “Like what you see, sweet thing?” His hands gripped your thighs and kneaded the flesh with a reverence a man of his standing shouldn’t be capable of – worshipping you like a man at prayer. “You like seein’ daddy on his knees for you?”

Your mouth opened and closed while he shuffled closer, nosing at your clothed hip. Words were failing you at the insistent touch – thoughts and worries falling from your mind as though he had doused the rubble, only to reignite it with a new, more ferocious flame. 

“I think we can get rid of these,” Bucky hummed, and your clothes came away with a swift tug to lay on the floor in tatters. 

“Buc- Shit!” Your legs were suddenly bent over his broad shoulders, your back scooting up the wall as he shuffled closer, his face mere inches from your bare cunt. “Oh my god!”

“How many times do we have to go over this, honey,” Bucky drawled, grinning wickedly before licking his lips again. “M’name is Bucky.”

The hot fan of Bucky’s breath over your opening made you twitch in his hold. “Now,” he began, his voice rumbling so low you could feel it in your bones. “‘M gonna take what I want, and you’re gonna sit pretty for me and make all those noises, alright?”

“Okay, okay, oh god, Bucky-” You gasped, watching through hooded eyes as Bucky’s wings twitched, and his tail swayed and drifted back and forth over the floor. “I will, I will, just please-”

“Please, what, honey?” Bucky asked, pulling back just slightly so he could look up at you. The bastard was smirking. 

A rush of boldness made you snarl, your lip twitching up with a low groan, and you grabbed handfuls of his hair, forcing him closer. “Fuck me with your tongue, daddy.” 

Bucky’s eyes widened minutely before he growled, delving forward to lap at your clit. The shock and the pressure from the fork of his tongue made you cry out, a loud moan that echoed off the walls. 

You were pulled from the sensations when Bucky parted from your clit with a pop, and he looked up at you with hooded eyes, his chin soaked with slick. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he said, tilting his head slightly so your hand brushed his horns. “Daddy’s not lettin’ go of this sweet pearl.”

He latched back onto your clit and sucked harshly, making you squeal and twist, only for him to soothe you with a soft lick.

The roughness of his horns against your palms grounded you slightly, an anchor from the sensations that crashed against your body and soul just from his tongue alone. “Fuck, feels s’good,” you moaned, and Bucky hummed, the vibrations wrapping up your spine in a vice grip. 

Bucky’s tongue lapped at your weeping entrance for just a second before his tongue stroked your walls. Your grip tightened on his horns with a whimper, your chest heaved for breath once his tongue curled up to lap insistently at the rough patch. “Ah, fuck– just like that, Bucky, oh!”

A squeeze to the globes of your ass made you gasp, and Bucky growled lowly. “Daddy! ‘M sorry!”

The loss of his mouth made you whine, and you watched as he pulled back to look up at you, his tongue swiping at his lips. “Always so sweet for me, baby, could jus’ stay buried in your pussy forever– never have to leave it. You taste just like heaven, fuck.”

“Please,” you begged, grabbing his hair and tugging slightly. “Wanna come, daddy, please!”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Bucky cooed, his tail flicking back and forth. You watched the movement with rapt attention before he tutted, and you stared into his face. “Such a good girl for using your manners, and daddy’s feelin’ generous tonight, honey.”

“Yesyesyes,” you chanted, gripping his hair tighter. 

“Ah, ah, not so fast,” Bucky chastised, his tone teasing, and you whimpered. “All you gotta do is use your words, baby. Y’know what hearing you beg does to me. Lemme hear you beg.”

“Fuck me with your tongue, daddy,” you breathed, your hands grabbing his horns in an iron grip. Bucky smirked and raised a brow, a silent ‘go on’. “Please, it feels s’good, don’t stop- Please. Just, please, I wan’ it so bad.”

“How can I deny you, huh? Asking me so nicely,” Bucky hummed, his wings unfurling slightly and rustling with the shiver racking up his spine. You only smiled serenely; knowing you had that effect on him was priceless. “Hold on, honey, daddy’s gotchu. And you can come when you’re ready; daddy wants you to soak his face.”

A stuttered moan left your lips at his words, and you nodded feverishly. “Please, fuck- Ah!”

Bucky lapped at your clit with such precision it felt unreal, the speed and intensity too much to bear, and you voiced it with a litany of whimpers and moans that made Bucky’s wings shudder and tail thrash. “C’mon, honey,” Bucky moaned, his voice muffled against your clit. “Come for me– daddy wants you to come.”

“Fuck– close, so close, oh! There!” You cried, squirming valiantly in his hold and against his tongue, but Bucky followed your every move with vigour and strength, never once parting from your cunt – the wet sounds of him lapping at it only serving to stoke the flames. “Daddy! ‘M close!”

A loud hum and harsh suck from Bucky’s lips made your back seize. You choked on a gasp and you began to pant harshly. There was no air; you couldn’t get any- “Come, soak daddy, baby,” Bucky growled before sucking your clit into his mouth and shaking his head side to side. 

“Fuck! ‘M coming!” The sensations pulled you from your body with such ferocity you began to float, and then you crashed back to earth with a scream, shaking violently, all while Bucky lapped gently at your entrance through the waves. “Oh, my fucking–”

Your thighs felt wet, and you glanced down with a breathless shudder, only to see Bucky grinning like a madman – his mouth, chin, and neck soaked in slick. “Oh. Oh, fuck, Bucky, I’m sorry,” you whispered, suddenly shy. “I didn’t-”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky said softly, and you met his gaze, hesitantly. “That was the fuckin’ hottest thing, and you’re gonna do it again-” He kissed your thigh, nipping slightly. “And again, and you guessed it, baby,” he purred, nuzzling your stomach. “Again.”

“O-Okay,” you replied, loosening your grip on his horns to brush the hair from his forehead. 

Bucky smiled softly and nuzzled into your cunt one last time. “Let’s get you into bed, honey, ‘cause now daddy’s parched.”

↠  𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ↞

[shadowlessdeath]

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ☽☾ Incubus!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ☽☾ 1.5k Warnings ☽☾ Swearing, pet names, smut (monsterf-cking, unprotected piv, so much dirty talk, slight edging, multiple/denied orgasms, begging + praise + daddy kink and I am not sorry) Author's Note ☽☾ Is it cheesy to say that I swear I was possessed when I wrote this? it is? damn... oh well.

Rating ☽☾ E Events ➷ ☽☾ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer | Week 2 - Daddy | Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist ☽☾ @allcapsbingo Ｂ１ - Monsterf-cking (June Adoptable) | All Caps Bingo Masterlist

Depths of Pleasure Masterlist

A secret was only a secret if your body didn’t betray you. Luckily for you, you just happened to have an Incubus with centuries worth of tricks of the trade practised and perfected to get information out of anybody as a lover – you didn’t stand a chance.

Feeling the entirety of Bucky’s weight over your back wasn’t the trigger. You were sure of that. 

It wasn’t the insistent rasped praises in your ear of how you were, “Such a good girl, honey, lookatchu,” or the, “Taking me so fuckin’ well, sweet thing,” no. No, surely it wasn’t.

So why in the hell had that phrase slipped through your lips in a moan so sweet that it made Bucky freeze?

The weight over your back shifted, his arms caging you even tighter, and his damned tail twitched on your thigh. “What was that?” His voice was curious, a lilt that revealed he might have, in fact, heard you but wanted to revel in the budding shyness that gripped you tightly, making you squirm. 

You stalled, mouth opening and closing until you settled on, “Nothing.” 

“Okay,” Bucky replied, his hips starting to slowly move in a circling grind. “Suit yourself, sweetheart.”

Relief flooded you as Bucky began to thrust in earnest again – he wasn’t holding it against you; you were safe, a secret kink of yours still under lock and key. 

A loud moan echoed from your parted lips as Bucky shifted slightly, the head of his barbed cock hitting all the right places. “There it is, honey,” he whispered before biting your neck, using it as leverage to thrust harder and faster. 

The pace was brutal and punched the air from your lungs, your hands scrabbling uselessly against the sheets in an effort to ground yourself in the onslaught of sensations – that familiar feeling of floating began to cloud your mind the harder he thrust. 

“Aw, you can’t be going cockdrunk on me already, sweet thing,” Bucky purred, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You only whimpered. “I know,” he said suddenly – a lightbulb going off above his head, you swore. “Here we go, hang on.”

Bucky’s hands felt hot on your hips, and the drag of them down to your thighs made you shiver. “Bucky, wha–” The sudden movement of your knees being dragged across the sheets felt strange, then a bloom of heat coiled in your cunt as it throbbed around him – somehow, he was deeper. “Oh! God, please!”

“That better, honey, huh?” Bucky asked. You whined and nodded. “Alright, what d’you say? Lemme hear you.”

“Please fuck me!” You moaned, gasping when Bucky’s tail forced itself under you to sit at your clit. “I-I’ve been good; please, I need it, Bucky!”

“So sweet,” Bucky cooed. “You can have it, baby.”

The speed was deliberately slow, each drag of his cock on your walls torturous, and you huffed. Bucky only chuckled and gradually sped up, each thrust perfectly aimed to make you see stars. 

A sharp thrust made you cry out. “Ah! Bucky, don’t stop, don’t stop- I’m so close, please,” you rushed, the precipice of release so fucking close you could cry. 

Bucky was panting into your ear, the grin on his lips brushing against your temple, all while still fucking you into the mattress, when he suddenly stopped just as you started to keen. 

“No! No, no, please! Fuck!” You sobbed, and Bucky only laughed. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” Bucky simpered, shifting over your body again so his hips were flush with your ass. “I want you beggin’ prettier than that, sweet thing. Go on,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your neck. “Beg for me, honey. You can do it.”

“But–”

“No buts,” Bucky cautioned, the warning sound of a low rumble reverberating deep in his chest. “Do as you’re told, or you won’t get what you want.”

“I need you t-to fuck me, please, Bucky,” you whined. His weight had you pinned to the bed; you couldn’t move, couldn’t squirm to get what you wanted, and it made a piteous whimper leave your lips. “I need your cock, please.”

“That’s cute, honey,” Bucky sighed, moving again. “But I know you can do much better than that.”

“Ah- Fuck, okay,” you breathed. While Bucky’s hips moved so slowly, each thrust into your cunt felt like heaven. “I wan’ it so bad- Bucky, please fuck me, use me!”

Bucky moaned quietly, his hips faltering. “Oh, so sweet for me, honey, aren’t’chu?” Words failed you, so you nodded quickly, whimpers coaxing him on. “I want you to call me, sweetheart, lemme hear you.”

Each movement of his hips stoked the flames, and you could feel them coiling and licking up your spine, the heat reaching an inferno – the added pressure of his tail flicking in time with his thrusts only added more fuel to the fire.

“Call me, baby,” Bucky growled, a compelling command that pulled you under the waves of pleasure he was drowning you in. “Tell me who I am, do it for me, c’mon, I know you want to–can feel your cunt tighten every time you think of it.”

“I- Oh, fuck,” you sobbed. Sure, you had felt the pulse every time you imagined calling Bucky that, but… his pace was quickening, and you struggled to keep your head above the waves. “Please, I wanna cum!”

“Say it. Fuckin’ say it, and you can, sweet thing,” Bucky said, his tone dangerous – the exact  same one he used when you knew his eyes were an abyss and his intentions were to absolutely ruin you. 

You whimpered loudly. Your hands moved of their own accord and found Bucky’s, and you gripped them for dear life – you were going to drown if you didn’t give in. 

“Please, please–”

“Please, what?” Bucky snapped, his pace staying the same, driving you closer to that edge. “Say it; I wanna hear you say it.”

Screw it. You took a deep breath that caught on a sob – desperation gripped you so tight, consequences be damned. “Fuck me, daddy! Please!”

A heavy breath left Bucky’s lips and morphed into a loud groan. “Oh, fuck,” he bit out, the force of the words shattering his resolve. “Good girl, such a good girl for daddy, tha’s it.” 

The pace turned punishing. “Bucky!” A low growl was your answer, and you shuddered, “Daddy! Daddy, please, I’m gonna–”

“You wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?” The question only made you clench down, trapping him in your cunt until he shoved his length deeper with a grunt. You nodded and scratched at his hands, desperate to hold something. Bucky cooed softly and flicked his tail faster. 

Your mouth became lax around gasps for air – you were so close. “Mhm, mhm, gonna be good,” you whined. 

“Atta girl,” Bucky said, his voice deep and raspy, like he was struggling to control himself. “Daddy’s gotchu, let go for me, give it to me–be good for daddy and let go, sweet thing.”

It started slow – spreading from nerve to nerve like a wildfire that burst into an all encompassing flame that burned through the last of your reserves. “Tha’s it, fuck, you’re forcin’ daddy out, baby,” Bucky groaned. “Give it to me, c’mon, let daddy feel you cum.”

A scream tore from your throat as he thrusted, deeper and slower, and you came – harder than ever before. The waves thrashed against you, and you fell into the current, letting the pleasure take you away for just a moment and revelling in the feeling of floating.

Harsh pants sounded in your ear. “Cum for me, daddy,” you moaned once you gained control of your tongue, then a sudden heat bloomed in your cunt, and Bucky moaned loudly, his hips moving in circles as he ground his cock deep into you. 

“What the fuck,” Bucky huffed, still gasping for breath as he came down. The barbs began locking him in place, and you whimpered at the feel of them. “Shh, breathe for me, sweetheart.” 

A single hit against that spot sent you spiralling again. “Such a good girl,” Bucky whispered while you moaned weakly. He began kissing behind your ear while he thrust shallowly to prolong your second orgasm. “Did so good for daddy–so proud of you.”

Silence filled the room while you caught your breath, grateful for Bucky staying seated inside you – the bravery was still coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but feel greedy. 

“That was something else,” you said finally, smiling widely.

“I’ll say,” Bucky laughed, hugging you tight. “Why didn’t you tell me–my honey having a daddy kink, huh? I coulda helped you realise it much sooner, baby.”

“I was shy about it,” you mumbled, and you attempted to hide your face, but Bucky stopped you with a sigh, his hand moving to brush your cheek. 

“No need to be shy with me, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, kissing your cheek sweetly. “What else is my baby hidin’, huh?” He moved so he was looming over you and ground his hips down into yours again. You went to answer, to deny answering his question, when he smirked wickedly – those fangs on display and that damned tongue wetting his lips. 

“Don’t you worry, sweet thing,” he purred, lowering himself so his nose brushed against your temple and his lips brushed the side of your head. The breath left your lungs like he had stolen it. “Daddy’ll find out.”

↠  𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ↞

[shadowlessdeath]

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ☽☾ Incubus!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ☽☾ 550 Warnings ☽☾ Pet names, praise, Bucky is desperate, heavily implied spice Author's Note ☽☾ This is all @smutconnoisseur's fault. Inspired by this.

Depths of Pleasure Masterlist

Divinity lay before him, and it was hardly his fault if the temptation was too much to bear. After all, he wasn’t a holy being, he could sin and still feel the flames of Hell flicker in his soul – what was left of it, anyway.

Footsteps pacing at the foot of your bed woke you from your slumber, and you shuffled under the covers. The footsteps paused for just a second and you realised the room was hot – nothing like the chill that had settled in only a few hours before. Confused, you blearily looked around, but the sight that you beheld made the breath leave your lungs in a sharp exhale. 

Bucky was pacing – wearing down a line on the carpet at the foot of your bed, and he looked like hell itself had scorned him. A low growl rumbled in his throat while he watched you, his tail thrashed and moved hypnotically as he stalked up and down, up and down. The depths of black in his eyes swallowed you whole, consuming you in one glance and you gulped. 

“Well, my sleepin’ beauty is finally awake,” Bucky said finally, his lips tilting in a predatory smirk, the fury in his stance and gaze morphed into unbridled lust. His forked tongue ran over his lips and you found yourself following the movement with rapt attention, only looking up when Bucky tilted his head. Not once did he stop pacing. “What is it, honey?”

“I-” You tried, mouth suddenly too dry to speak. Bucky grinned, running his tongue over his lips again while his wings twitched against his back – like he was itching to stretch them out and fill the remaining empty space. “Um, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothin’, sweet thing,” Bucky purred. He stopped pacing at last, coming to a stop by your feet. You watched with widening eyes as he leant forward, his hands grasping the covers covering your body and ripping them away with a swift tug. The low purr from his throat at the sight of you in sleep shorts and a shirt reverberated through every last nerve, pooling in your cunt and he knew it; that lethal smirk giving his devillish intention away. 

What the fuck was with him? 

“You’re just irresistible to me, sugar, tha’s all. Lemme have a taste, honey?” The pout on his lips made the fire in your blood burn hot, scorching. “Please?”

Before you could even answer Bucky's thinly veiled plea, he surged forward and kissed you, claiming your mouth and forcing his forked tongue past your lips to explore, like he’d done many times before. The moan that left you made him grin, wicked and downright sinful. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered, shuffling closer and caging your hips with his legs. “Now relax and be a good girl for me,” Bucky said, but he sounded far away while your head was in the clouds, anchored only by his weight on your body. The skin that his hands brushed against burned, making you squirm slightly, desperately in his hold. Bucky just tittered and squeezed your hips with his thighs, pinning you in place. “And good girls let their devils take care of them, don’t they?”

You nodded, eyes hooded and gaze hazy, watching as Bucky’s head tilted to the side while he worked your clothes off. His horns were shining in the moonlight as he worked, and they were pretty. “You’re so pretty,” you mumbled.

Bucky snickered. “Why thank you, sweet thing,” he replied, settling between your bare thighs. “If I’m pretty, honey, then you’re fuckin’ divine.”

↠  𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ↞

[shadowlessdeath]

The depths of Hell had lost an asset, all thanks to you - no God could save you from his sights, or his clutches. Being consumed by fire was one way to go, you supposed, if it came in the form of one smug, hellish bastard.

Collection Pairing ☽☾ Incubus!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Collection Warnings ☽☾ Swearing, pet names, smut, fluff

𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝑨 - angst  |  𝑾 - whump  |  𝑫 - dark  |  𝑭 - fluff  |  𝑺 - smut

These are in timeline order - this is subject to change as I add entries.

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥 ☽☾ 𝑺

The creatures of the night were stuff of legends, tales to tell children to dissuade them from misbehaving. You had ignored the stories as nothing more than what they were made for–they were just that, stories.

Oh, how you were wrong.

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ☽☾ 𝑺 (implied)

Divinity lay before him, and it was hardly his fault if the temptation was too much to bear. After all, he wasn’t a holy being, he could sin and still feel the flames of Hell flicker in his soul – what was left of it, anyway.

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 ☽☾ 𝑺

A secret was only a secret if your body didn’t betray you. Luckily for you, you just happened to have an Incubus with centuries worth of tricks of the trade practised and perfected to get information out of anybody as a lover – you didn’t stand a chance.

𝐀 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 ☽☾ 𝑭 + 𝑺

It wasn’t a spell you were under, no – you were under so much deeper than that, and Bucky was the only one that knew how to help you. After all, he promised he would.

𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 '𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐥 ☽☾ 𝑺

Bucky’s magic was something that you’d only experienced on a few occasions. Though, his plans this time would leave you begging for it again, and again, and again.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 | 𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 | 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒 / 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒

Collection Playlist

Artwork by @mxaether

Ask 1 | some not so gentle love from Daddy.

Ask 2 | My pride and joy.

Post 1 | Collaring.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Some birthday smut.

Graphics made by yours truly!

[shadowlessdeath]

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ☽☾ Incubus!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ☽☾ 3.2k Warnings ☽☾ Swearing, pet names, dark themes, mildly dubious consent in the beginning, smut (somnophillia, oral f receiving, monsterf-cking, unprotected possessive piv, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, praise kink, choking kink, breeding kink, a lot of dirty talk) Author's Note ☽☾ Well, this was originally not in my wheelhouse, but here I am. A very big thank you to @buckyismybicycle for her help on this and looking it over - appreciate you so much, babe! For @the-slumberparty's week 4 moodboard challenge that evolved into this... whatever this is.

Check out the beautiful and awesome art that @mxaether made for Incubus!Bucky!

Depths of Pleasure Masterlist | Slumberparty Masterlist

𝑫𝑬𝑴𝑶𝑵 : ̗̀➛ an evil spirit or devil, especially one thought to possess a person or act as a tormentor in hell.

The creatures of the night were stuff of legends, tales to tell children to dissuade them from misbehaving. You had ignored the stories as nothing more than what they were made for–they were just that, stories.  Oh, how you were wrong.

Nightmares were something you weren’t all too familiar with. Sure, you had a few here and there, but it never persisted beyond what you could settle with a simple breathing exercise you had learnt to loosen the vice in your chest. 

What was abnormal, however, was the fact you dreamt non-stop of a towering figure that never moved from the shadows in the corners of your room. Its wings, blackened like soot, and two horns that wound and curled up towards your ceiling made the creature’s stature all the more intimidating. You couldn’t be sure if you had imagined it right, but you swore there was a tail somewhere in the mix too. 

It unnerved you to no end — to the point you had started to be afraid to fall asleep without a light on. 

The day had passed much too fast for your liking. Your job had been tedious, testing your limited patience to no end, and dammit all, you were looking forward to curling up under the blankets on your bed, and getting some damn sleep. 

Dinner was uneventful, if you discounted the shadow you kept seeing out of the corner of your eyes that moved whenever you moved. “Losing my damn mind,” you muttered, frustrated.

A sudden stab of fear made your heart stutter in its rhythm, and the dish in your hand fell to the sink with a loud clatter. Your breathing turned fast, sharp gasps for air as you looked around your kitchen and into the shadows of the hallway. “I swear to-” A spark of heat spread through your body when your eyes glanced over where your bedroom door lay wide open. It lit up along your skin in crackles and zaps of electricity – with it, came the uncontrollable urge to clench your thighs together. 

“What the fuck!”

Your exclamation echoed in your empty home, and the feeling of being watched settled heavy in your stomach, joining the simmering warmth.

“No, I’m not doing this,” you said, shuffling around the kitchen and haphazardly throwing your dishes in the dishwasher to slam it closed. “I need some fucking sleep.”

The soft sheets of your bed made you sigh in relief, they were cool, a nice contrast to your warm, feverish skin. It was an easy assumption that maybe you had developed a cold, or flu, so you brushed it off in favour of burrowing into your pillow with a heavy breath, and sleep took you not long after you closed your eyes. 

Your dreams were flashes of that creature, of tongues and sharp teeth carving their need onto your skin and making a home; becoming one with it, connected in a way that would make a sinner sweat.

It was late, well into the night, when dread joined the mix of nerves and arousal in your stomach. The sourness woke you and your eyes fluttered, just as a weight settled on the back of your thighs. 

“So fucking pretty, sweet thing,” a voice purred. “I might keep you.”

What the fuck.

You tried to squirm, your stomach brushing against the mattress. Stomach — You were not a stomach sleeper. “No- No, get off of me!”

“Aw,” the voice cooed, an octave lower and you hated how it sent a chill up your spine, the instinct to stop moving and bare your throat in submission shrouded your better judgement to run–run and not look back. “Don’t get all shy on me now, sugar.” 

There was a slight hiss to the words, the weight on your thighs lifted, and with it, you took a breath. “You were callin’ me in your sleep, squirming all over the bed with the need to be fucked and filled.”

What in the actual fuck. 

“You were, sweet thing,” the voice purred, having sensed your budding denial, and its face finally came into view. It was all you could do to not cry out in shock — it was the creature in your dream! Horned, winged, and pointed teeth- “I can fucking smell you, I know you want it just as bad as I need it.”

“What the fuck-” You gasped. The creature grinned, pointed fangs and forked tongue bright in the light cast from the bedside lamp. Its eyes were an icy blue, disappearing fast behind a black veil — its irises were bleeding into the whites of its eyes and- “What are you?”

“Just an Incubus, sugar. You had a lil’ bit too much fun as a teenager and I’ve been following you since. After all,” it said, shrugging a shoulder before leaning in close. “Not everyone is as silly as you, summoning something like me.”

Your mind reeled back to that stupid sleepover when you were in your late teens, mucking around with Ouija boards and everything a teenager should not do. “Oh, god,” you groaned. 

“Oh, no, honey, not God,” the Incubus purred, pressing his heated lips to your temple. “It’s Bucky.”

The world froze, the axis jarring to a stop and you stared wide-eyed up at the Incubus — Bucky — horror struck. He seemed to sense your sudden terror and his brows furrowed, black eyes glinting in the warm light. “What is it, honey? Don’t wanna be sweet for me no more?”

“Please don’t hurt me.”

Bucky looked affronted, as much as a fucking demon could, anyway. “Hurt you?” 

He moved off you like he was burned and moved to lay next to you — though you still could not move. “I won’t hurt you,” he breathed, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. “I only want to fuck you senseless, tha’s all.”

“How romantic,” you huffed. Bucky barked a laugh and you watched his forked tongue while it wet his lips, unable to help but think about what it would feel like —

“Oh, sweet thing, you keep thinking like that and I won’t be able to control myself.” Bucky’s nostrils flared and his eyes glinted dangerously, making you gulp. “Go on, tell me.”

“You can read minds?”

Bucky shook his head, his long hair swaying with the movement. “No, but I can smell just how fucking wet you are, and your eyes-” he paused, as if to prove his point and licked his lips again. You watched helplessly, ensnared and desperate to know. “You’re watching every single move I make.” The bastard finished with a dangerous smirk; the tip of his fang just visible. 

You couldn’t help it — you shivered. Bucky shifted closer and to your surprise, placed his lips on yours softly and moved his tongue past your lips. It was heaven, and your cunt clenched around nothing, forcing a sound from your throat that you’d never even heard before. 

The kiss ended far too soon and you whined, but Bucky shushed you. “Nuh-uh, patience, sweet thing.” Bucky moved to sit up and then stand from your bed which turned cold without his presence. 

“Wait, don’t go-” You tried, but Bucky was already walking towards the corner of the room, the shadow where he had hidden for years. 

“I will be back, sugar,” Bucky purred, a small wink thrown your way. “You just get some rest, sweet thing, I need you to have enough energy to cope with what I am gonna do to you tomorrow night.”

A click of his fingers, and you were out like a light. 

The next day dragged impossibly slow, but you felt surprisingly energetic, a rubber band of tension that would snap without even a second's notice. Bucky had said he would be back, and the sun had started to set, casting an orange and pink glow through your bedroom window. It would be night soon.

It was surprising, though, when you had the intense urge to sleep just as you moved to lay down in your bed, a sudden exhaustion settling deep in your bones. The last thought you could muster before your eyes closed was a fleeting hope that Bucky would be back — you were desperate to know what he had planned, consequences be damned. 

Your dreams were the same, tongue and teeth, wings and horns, all of which belonged to Bucky — blackened and tainted with lust.

Shuffling sounds came from the corner of your room and you only just registered it when heavy weight settled on your thighs again, but you couldn’t open your eyes. You could hear them breathing, a soft steady rhythm, and then you felt something brush your leg. “Wha- Oh!”

A heat like no other lapped at your core and you groaned, pushing back against whatever it was. You had enough wits about you to look over your shoulder to see horns and a set of ruffled wings. “Oh, fuck, Bucky!”

In lieu of an answer, Bucky forced his tongue deeper in your cunt and you keened, arching your back so your ass was higher in the air. A low growl vibrated against your clit at your sudden movement and you gasped. “Don’t stop- Ah! Oh, fuck me, Bucky!”

The forked tongue you had dreamed of pulled away, and you whined loudly at the loss. “Hold on, sweet thing,” Bucky soothed, voice low and honeyed. You looked back over your shoulder again and gasped, his chin was covered in slick and a predatory grin that sent a sharp spike of heat straight to your core. “Get on your back for me.”

You hastened to obey and sprawled on the bed, watching as Bucky crawled back up to nestle between your thighs. “Grab-” He commanded as he grabbed your hands and placed them on his horns, “-hold.” He grinned and dived back into your cunt with a low moan, and you groaned back. It was like having every thought, every dream come to life. 

“Oh! Bucky, there!” You yelled, your entire body pulling taut. Bucky’s tongue had just found what he had been desperately searching for, and like hell was he going to let the discovery go to waste. “Fuck- Ah! Ah, Bucky! Please!”

The tension snapped, and you screamed to the ceiling, jerking and twitching while Bucky continued to lap at that spot through the aftershocks only to trigger another. Chants of his name and a litany of curses filled the air until they turned into whimpers and weak moans. 

You pushed back against his horns when it became too much, and he obliged, pulling away with that same wolfish grin. “Hey there, sugar,” he purred, and you moaned weakly, gesturing for him to move up your body. “Miss me?”

“Fuck me,” you gasped, pulling him in for a bruising kiss that he returned in earnest. The taste of yourself on his tongue only sent another shiver of desperate need down your spine. “Please, please I need it-”

“I will fuck you, sweet thing,” Bucky simpered. He moved and attacked the column of your throat, his teeth scraping against every spot that made you sing. “I will, but I wanna make you desperate. Hearing you beg, baby,” he sighed and pulled back to loom over you. The hand that had been next to your head suddenly wrapped around your throat, his thumb tilting your chin up so you would be exposed. The sight seemed to tear at his restraint, if his darkening eyes were anything to go off of. “It’s so fucking good, honey. I wanna hear you beg for my cock.”

“Plea-”

“Not tonight, sugar, I tired you out.” Before you could whine in protest, Bucky clicked his fingers and you fell into a deep sleep, sated and exhausted. 

Two nights passed by without a sign from Bucky. There were no shadows, there were no heavy feelings deep in your gut, it was just nothing. You supposed the good night’s sleep you’d been having for the past couple days were his doing, but it did nothing to abate the tension that had ruthlessly settled in your core. 

Bucky had promised to fuck you, and he had disappeared. 

It wasn’t that you were disappointed — hell, you couldn’t lie, you were, but you missed him. Everything seemed to be okay when he was around, and you missed his company. 

The sun had started to set, and you had decided to dress in just a long night shirt because that odd feverish heat had settled over you again, your skin too hot to bear. You were confused on how that would have come about, you weren’t sniffling, nor expelling a lung with violent coughing fits, no — you were healthy, and normal. If you didn’t count how insanely aroused you had been the past two days.

Sleep settled over you like every night before, and the same dreams played on repeat.

“Oh, look at you, honey,” a voice whispered in the shadows. You didn’t register it, but the figure moved closer. Whimpers and moans were coming from the bed and the atmosphere turned heated, consumed in fire. “Oh, sugar,” they whispered again. 

Your dream changed suddenly to visions of someone moving you on your stomach and then moving your legs, and your legs moved apart on instinct, your ass titling up with the angle. Someone inhaled deeply and moved behind you in the dream, it was a shadow, not discernible in shape or form, and as it neared you squirmed against the hold it had. “Ready for me, huh?” The figure leant over you and you squirmed again, pushing against the billowing heat. “Such a good girl for me. You can wake up now, sweet thing.”

Fire enveloped you and you gasped awake, pinned and unable to move for the weight above you and being speared on a huge cock. “Hey, honey.”

“Oh, my-”

“I know,” Bucky soothed, his voice so low and deep it reverberated in your bones. “Taking it so well, honey. Such a good girl for me,” his voice ended in a sigh and you felt him move forward, slowly and only slightly, but it felt like he was carving his way through and splitting you in half. “Lookatchu,” he purred, leaning close and breathing hotly on your neck. “I told you I’d fuck you.”

Words failed you. Your walls pulsed and Bucky hissed. “I haven’t even started and you’re close,” his tone was sly, mocking — dangerous. “You gonna come for me, sweet thing?”

You whined and nodded. “Please, move- Ah!”

Bucky surged forward and latched onto your throat, sucking harshly and pushing further into your wet heat until he was seated to the hilt. “You’re gonna take it, and you’re gonna say thank you, aren’t you, sugar?”

“Thank you- Oh, fuck, thank you-”

“Good girl.”

The pace was brutal, each thrust punched a high keen or moan from your lips and you could feel Bucky grin each time. A hand wound its way around your throat, forcing your head back so you could just see Bucky’s horns. “Bucky- Please, I can’t-”

“Yeah, you fucking will,” Bucky panted into your ear, speeding up his thrusts. “You’re going to take it, and you’re going to come.”

You wailed and Bucky hummed quietly, shuffling in his stance, then you screamed. The angle had changed and now every time he fucked into you was right against that spot. “There it is, sugar,” Bucky growled, gripping your throat tighter. “Come for me. Scream for me, go on.”

Incoherent babble escaped you as the pleasure surged and exploded, your thighs shook with the force and you went limp, at the mercy of the throes of blinding pleasure Bucky had given you—was still giving you, because he had not stopped. 

“Tha’s it, baby,” Bucky cooed, slowing just a second so he could kiss your sweat slicked temple, almost lovingly. “Did so good for me, such a good girl.” His pace picked up again and you mewled. “Gimme another one, honey, then I’m gonna fucking fill you.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasped before Bucky wrenched you up by the throat, his grip iron tight. 

“Beg. Beg for me,” Bucky moaned, his thrusts not slowing or stopping. “Tell me how good I fuck you, sugar.”

It’s a good thing you weren’t going to the pearly gates, because hell had swallowed you up, and he was in you — fucking you senseless, just as he promised. 

“S’good, Bucky, fuck,” you breathed, hiccuping with the force of his thrusts. “Don’t stop- Ah!”

“I think I’m gon’ keep you, sweet thing,” Bucky said, his breath hot on your throat. “Fuck you and fill you whenever I want- You want that don’t you, honey?” At his words, you tightened like a vice and forced his hips to stutter. “Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me.”

Tears began to fall and you sobbed, overwhelmed and on the edge again. “Please, I’m-”

“You gonna come again for me, honey?” 

You nodded fervently and pushed back as best you could against his thrusts. The sudden pressure of his hand against your stomach startled a gasp from you, and the roaring fire intensified tenfold — it was unbearable, you were gonna implode. 

“Go on, sugar, come for me.”

Amidst the earth-shattering orgasm he had ripped from you, Bucky had forced you down flat against the bed, and fucked you hard into the mattress. His arms were wrapped tight around your chest and stomach while his tail wrapped around your thigh, nestling itself at your clit. The constant flick and pressure made your vision white out. “You feel so fucking good, baby, fuck-” Bucky moaned, going impossibly harder, faster— “‘M gonna fill you, make you mine.”

“I want it! Please, I want it, Bucky!”

Bucky’s hips stuttered and a shout echoed around the room, followed by the intense heat of his seed filling you and leaking out with the shallow pump of his cock. The pressure forced another climax from your exhausted body and you moaned, trying your best to squirm and push yourself back against his pelvis. 

“Don’t move,” Bucky growled, still thrusting slowly. You complied and fell limp against the mattress and in his arms. 

A sudden jolt in your heat made you cry out and tremble, grabbing weakly at the sheets. “Wha-” 

Bucky nuzzled against your cheek and it happened again, ripping a weak moan from you. “You’re mine.”

It happened again, and this time right against that spot. “Bucky!” You came weakly, shaking and squirming in Bucky’s hold. 

“Easy, sugar, that’s just the barbs.”

“Bar- Oh!” Bucky had rolled his hips just as you began to speak and you shuddered. “What the fuck?”

Bucky didn’t answer, he only pulled you impossibly closer and sighed happily. “You’re mine.”

You’re mine. 

The words caused a rush of affection and you took a deep breath, feeling how tight he held you, like you were precious. “I’m yours?” You asked, suddenly nervous. “How-” Bucky cut you off with a bruising kiss that you returned, just as heatedly. 

A reckless feeling flooded you, having never been one to go against the norm; always following rules, not really having fun, everything that led you to be in the stalemate that was your life. You pulled away from Bucky’s lips and hushed him when he whined quietly, chasing your lips. 

“Take me, Bucky.” He looked at you and blinked, a slow blink that told you he hadn’t expected that. “Take me, I’m yours. I want you.”

That wolfish grin returned, and his tongue ran over his lips, considering. “I can do that, sweet thing.”

↠  𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ↞

[shadowlessdeath]

Honey Girl. Chapter Four.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky deal with the fallout of Cora's reveal. What's that saying? If you love something, let it go...

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Word Count - 5k

Author's Note - i can only apologise that this chapter took a little while!! my life is at a super weird place rn, so i'm just trying to find the time when i can. words cannot describe how incredible all of your support is for Honey Girl. the fact you all reblog and comment and send me asks means the world to me. love you all so much.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You can't breathe.

It's like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air, leaving it dry, brittle, sterile. Your lungs are burning, scratched like sandpaper. The backyard is spinning, like teenagers at a roller rink - all flashing lights and endless rotations.

You haven't taken your eyes off of Bucky, and he hasn't taken his eyes off of you. If you were thinking more logically, you'd probably realise that you've been staring at each other for too long, and it's starting to look a little suspicious. You don't care.

Your ears are ringing. It's like there's been an explosion, and you're scattered amongst the debris. Smoke, flames, rubble. A catastrophic detonation in your parents backyard.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you back to reality. The music is still playing, everyone around the table is still conversing, the house still stands. No explosion here.

"Sweetheart?"

It's your Mom, clearly sensing your distress. She probably thinks you're upset with her, for telling Cora. You are, but that's not what's causing the pain in your chest.

"Come inside with me, baby girl. Let's get away from the noise for a second."

She grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair, still none the wiser to the magnetism preventing you from breaking your gaze that's locked on Bucky's. She practically drags you inside, the cool air of the kitchen waking you up.

"Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry. Cora overheard the conversation we had earlier. I thought it was good news, so I didn't think to ask her to keep it private."

She looks like she's being eaten alive by guilt. Your bottom lip quivers, your eyes well up, and before you know it, there are warm, salty tears dripping down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey. What's the matter?"

You sit down on the tiled floor, back pressed against the cabinets. Curling your knees to your chest, you try to stifle your sobs.

"Everything's such a mess, Mama."

She drops to the ground, gathering you in her arms. She holds you as tight as she can, rubbing soothing circles into your back and whispering comforting words in your ear. Eventually, she pulls back to look at you.

"What's the matter, baby? I thought Stella's call was a good thing - that you'd be excited to go back to California."

You take a shaky breath before replying.

"It's just... I think - I don't, it's... it's so complicated."

She traces her fingers over your cheeks, your eyebrows, your nose. She dances her fingertips over your face, as if she's committing it to her mind forever. It brings back warm and cosy childhood memories of her doing the same thing to help you sleep. The two of you would snuggle up against all of your pillows in bed, tucked up and safe. She'd lie with you until she was sure you were dreaming, before kissing you on the forehead and sneaking out.

"Talk to me. We can figure it out. We always do."

"It's not that simple. I just... there's a lot going on, I guess. I thought it'd be an easy decision, but it isn't, and it's all I can think about, and it's eating me up because I'm so scared I'm gonna do the wrong thing -"

You cut yourself off with a sob, resting your head on your knees.

"I knew there was something bothering you, sweetheart. Why didn't you come and talk to us? Even if we can't fix it, we can listen."

"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could figure it out on my own."

"You don't ever have to carry stress like this on your own, baby girl. Ever. You hear me?"

You nod and lean into her, letting her rock you in her arms on the kitchen floor.

"I'm sorry again, about Cora. She means well, you know she does."

"I know. Doesn't feel like it sometimes, but I know."

A pause.

"Okay, sweetheart. What are we going to do now? Whatever you decide, we'll support you."

"Your Mom's right," your Dad says from the doorway. "Whatever you choose, we'll be right alongside you. No matter what."

He strides over to join the two of you on the floor, sandwiching you between him and your Mom.

"If you need help packing up and moving, we're here. If you need us to create an elaborate lie to tell Stella, we're here. Either way, you've got us."

You smile at him gently, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder. Regardless of what happens, you have two parents that love you more than anything in the world. That has to count for something.

"You wanna rejoin us outside, or are you too tired? No one will blame you if you go home."

"I think I'll go home," you murmur. "I don't wanna face any more questions for today."

"Bucky's just gone too. Said something about an early morning tomorrow."

You inhale shakily at the mention of his name. You know you'll have to face him sooner or later.

Your Dad stands and grabs your hands to help you to your feet, before doing the same to your Mom. They both hug you tightly before walking you out to the front door.

"Promise me you'll call if you need anything. Anything."

"I promise, Mama. Don't worry about me. I'll be okay."

"Do you want one of us to walk you home?"

"No, it's okay. I think I need the air."

"Love you, baby girl."

"Love you too. Both of you."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're halfway home when you decide to turn around. You need to talk to Bucky.

It doesn't take you long to figure out where he is. You can feel in your chest that he's close by, that he hasn't strayed far. He hasn't gone home, though. The Universe is pulling you in the opposite direction.

The beach.

You spin on your heel and start walking down the road, picking up pace as you go. You can feel rain in the air, threatening to spill from the clouds at any given moment. Before you know it, you're running, sprinting along the sidewalk in the direction of your soulmate.

You get to the small boardwalk and look out over the sand. The sky is grey as concrete, cold and unforgiving. You spot a figure in a worn brown leather jacket by the shore, and you know instantly. It's him.

You march onto the beach with your shoes still on, wrapping your arms around yourself to act as a shield from the wind. You left your jacket at your parent's house, too eager to get out of there in a hurry. The rain is suspended in the air, never quite reaching the ground. You know it's only a matter of time before the heavens open.

"Bucky!" you yell, practically bounding across the sand. "Buck!"

He doesn't turn because he hears your voice. He turns because he suddenly feels like he can breathe, which he hasn't been able to do for the last hour. He knew you were there before you shouted his name.

"Bucky, please!"

He spins on his heel and stops walking, waiting for you to catch up with him. You're sprinting, panting as you reach him. The ocean waves crash against the shore, dangerously close to his boots.

"Buck, just let me explain," you choke out, trying to catch your breath.

You finally stop running and look at him. He looks broken. His hair looks like he's pulled his fingers through it repeatedly, tear tracks staining his cheeks, lips bitten red. You've never seen him upset like this. It's the worst thing you've ever witnessed.

"There's nothing to explain," he begins calmly, trying to keep a lid on his feelings.

"There is, Buck. There is. I... Cora overheard me confiding in my Mom, telling her about a call I'd gotten, from a classmate at culinary school. It was just an offer - I haven't accepted anything! I never meant for you to find out like this, I swear. It's all just... it's all so fucked up."

He looks at you in disbelief.

"No, you know what's fucked up?" he asks, raising his voice. "Finding out that my soulmate is moving across the country from some alcoholic suburban mom at a dinner party!"

You've never heard him yell before. You don't like it at all. You gather yourself before replying calmly, determined to keep you emotions under wraps.

"I've been trying to find a way to talk to you about it, but I didn't know where to start. How do I even begin to explain any of this?"

"Maybe, I don't know - 'hey, Buck, I got a call and I'm thinking of moving thousands of miles away for my dream job,' would be a good place to start?"

"It's more complicated than that. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"From blowing your life up for me!"

You stare at each other for a minute, both of you unblinking.

"What are you talking about?" he croaks out.

"You'd drop everything for me, Bucky, and I can't let you do that. You've worked too damn hard to let it all go."

He's dumbfounded, for a moment. Not because he doesn't understand. No. He's realising that you're right.

"I knew that if I told you straight away, you'd have persuaded me to let you come with, and I would have said yes. And then you'd regret it, and you'd resent me, and we'd be over before we've even begun."

When he doesn't say anything, you continue.

"The thing is, Buck, the selfish part of me would have happily invited you along. Me and you, in California, running a bakery? That sounds like a fucking dream. But I have to listen to the other side of me, the selfless part. And that part is telling me that you have worked too damn hard for too damn long just for me to take that all away."

You feel droplets of water on your face, and for a moment, you wonder when you started to cry again. Then, in the deep distance, you hear a crack of thunder. The rain begins to pour, both of you caught in a storm in more ways than one.

"You don't get to make a decision like that for me!" he finally responds, yelling to be heard over the downpour. "We're supposed to talk about these things! To figure them out together! That's what soulmates are - we're a team!"

"I can't think rationally around you, Bucky! It's like all logic goes out the window. I'm just so overwhelmed with-"

You stop yourself before the word comes out, but you both know what you were about to say. He feels it in his ribcage, the surge of emotion from you.

"-with how I feel about you. You're my forever, Buck, and I feel like -" a sob wracks through you, shaking your frame. "-like I've fucked it all up already."

Your tears mix with the rainwater, trailing down your cheeks. You watch as Bucky fights with himself, internally battling his feelings.

"You're not the only one fucking it up," he chokes. "You repeatedly told me we had to take it slow, but I just... couldn't help myself. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you, and being away from you for even a minute is fucking torture. I moved us too fast, and now look where we are. We've become the equivalent of a married couple in a couple of weeks. No one can handle change that sudden."

"It's not.. none of this is your fault, Buck. I kept something from you, something big. I know it doesn't matter now, but I want you to know how hard it's been to not tell you. It was killing me."

"I felt it," he murmurs shakily, willing himself not to cry. "In my chest. You were so torn up about something, and I just couldn't figure out what it was. I should have pushed you more, but I was worried I'd push you away."

Your lip trembles as you watch him bite his own anxiously.

"I'm so scared, Buck," you whisper. "I feel so lost and so confused and like nothing makes sense."

"Me too," he whispers back, eyes never leaving yours. "I'm fucking terrified. Our worlds have been turned upside down."

"Is it... is it supposed to be this hard? Everyone makes it sound so easy."

"I don't know. Maybe the Universe heard that we were anti-soulmate and decided to be super tough on us. Cosmic karma, or something."

You choke out a laugh through your tears. The rain has plastered your clothes to your body, the salty wind chilling you to the bone. Without thinking, Bucky takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, unable to watch you shiver any longer.

"What now?" you ask quietly. If he wasn't standing so close, he wouldn't have heard it.

"Let's get out of the storm," he suggests, nodding his head towards the path home. "We can talk some more somewhere warmer."

You sniffle and take a deep breath, willing yourself to get it together. Bucky surprises you by linking your hand with his, warm fingers intertwining around yours.

He doesn't let go the whole way home.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky takes you to his house.

You haven't been here since before your Tethering. You walk in the door, and your knees threaten to give way.

It's overwhelming.

Everywhere - everything - smells like Bucky. His scent clings to every fabric, every upholstery, every room. There's pictures scattered across the mantelpiece, his handsome face staring at you wherever you go. The house is warm, cosy, and just so Bucky it makes your heart ache.

You walk over to the fireplace, taking a closer look at the array of frames adorning it. There's one of your parents and Bucky smiling, sat out on his lawn last summer; another of Bucky and his team of mechanics, stood proudly outside his garage. A small black frame catches your eye. You pick it up, and your breath hitches in your chest.

It's a picture of the two of you on the deck of his boat, the day after you found out you were soulmates. The wind is blowing your hair, billowing your shirts, sun beating down on your skin. You're both beaming at the camera, bright and blinding, completely content.

You're holding back tears as you put it back in it's original place.

"My favourite picture," he murmurs from somewhere behind you. "We look happy."

"We were happy," you whisper. Then, quieter, "We will be again."

A pause.

"You want something to drink? Coffee, cocoa? Oh, I have that tea you like, the apple one?"

"You do?"

"Yeah. I, uh, bought some last time I went grocery shopping. In case you stopped by."

"Tea sounds good. Please."

You stay stood in the middle of the living room while Bucky puts the kettle on the stove, worried that your wet clothes will ruin his couch. As if he's read your mind, he pops his head around the door.

"There's a load of fresh clothes folded on top of the dryer. Grab whatever you want, dry off a little."

You wander into the laundry room, sorting through the pile. You find a t shirt with his garage logo on the back in big, white letters.

J.B.B. Motorcycles and Automotives.

The blocky, bold font swirls across the black material. You run your fingers over it, tracing the curves and spikes of the typeface. It's something you've seen him in a million times. You inhale deeply as you slip it over your head, revelling in the way it smells like him. You grab some boxer shorts and slip those on too, glad to finally be warm and dry.

Bucky loses his breath when you walk into the room. He's never seen you in his clothes before, and for good reason. He's about to have a goddamn heart attack.

"Tea is on the coffee table," he chokes out. "I'm gonna change, and then we'll talk, yeah?"

You nod gently, settling into the cushions of his couch and tucking your legs underneath you, mug warming your hands.

When Bucky returns, he's in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that you want to burrow yourself into. He takes his place, careful to put a little distance between you. Far enough that you're not touching, but close enough that you almost are.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I'm not good at this."

"Neither am I," he smiles gently. "It's my first time having a soulmate."

"Mine too," you laugh softly.

It floors you, his ability to always be able to comfort you. It's like a superpower, the way he always knows what to say or do to put you at ease.

"I think we got a little ahead of ourselves," he begins, careful to keep his voice low and deliberate. "I keep forgetting that we have forever. Literally. I was so eager to rush into this with you because I got excited. Don't get me wrong, I'm still ridiculously excited, but I'm realising now that our version of 'slow' wasn't slow at all."

"This whole Tethering thing makes everything so intense. There have been times where I honestly thought I was going to drop dead if you didn't kiss me."

"The feelings mutual," he chuckles.

You lace your fingers with his, never breaking eye contact, before addressing the elephant in the room.

"What am I gonna do about California, Buck?"

Your voice cracks just saying the word.

"Stella needs an answer, and I've upset you, and my parents are clueless, and I just - I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. Please."

"I can't tell you what to do, honey," he soothes, running his thumb over the back of your hand. "And I'm not upset. I was, in the backyard... but I was mainly just blindsided. I kinda get it, you not telling me. I'm not sure what I'd do in your situation either."

"I just feel like both decisions are wrong. I can't win."

"Hey, hey. Look at me, pretty baby."

Bucky cradles your face in his warm hands, forcing your eyes to meet his ocean blue ones. You have to focus on his words, so you don't get lost in the waves of his irises.

"At the end of the day, it's completely your decision, and no one in the world can change that. But-"

He takes a deep breath, and continues.

"I think that you'll regret it every day for the rest of your life if you don't take the incredible opportunity that's been offered to you."

You take a second to process what he's telling you, your mind running at a thousand miles an hour.

"Are you... you're... are you saying I should take the job?"

"Like I said, it's your decision, but... yes. I'm saying you should take the job."

Your eyes well with tears, and you bite your lip to stop them from escaping. Inhaling carefully, you put your hands on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your palms. He's calm. He's sure. He's collected enough for the both of you.

"What about us?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

"Like you said, baby. I'm your forever." Buck leans in, resting his forehead to yours. "We have time."

"All the time in the world."

You connect your lips to Bucky's softly, testing the waters. He kisses you back with so much feeling, tears slip from your lashes without warning. He's crying too, emotion mixing with yours, dousing you both.

You pull away and wrap your arms around him, curling yourself into his chest. He holds you as tightly as he can, knowing this will be the last time for a long time.

"So you'll go."

"I'll go."

"And I'll stay."

"You'll stay."

"And we'll be okay. No matter what, we'll be okay."

You and Bucky fall asleep in each others arms, cherishing the feeling of home one last time.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The happiness is starting to seep through.

You're devastated to be leaving Bucky behind, but you're trying to look on the bright side. Sunny beaches, new people, your dream job. If you think about the positives for long enough, the Bucky sized hole in your chest hurts a little less.

You're packing up your bookshelf when your phone rings, scaring the life out of you.

"Bitch!"

You know who it is instantly.

"Hi, Lacie."

"Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my text from last night?"

"Shit, sorry. I've been packing. What's up?"

"We're going out tonight. Not just us - all the girls. We're throwing you a goodbye party!"

You groan inwardly, massaging your temples with your fingers.

"A party? Lace, I don't need a party."

"Babe, you do. You really do. It'll be fun! I thought you'd be excited!"

You take a deep breath, and remember what you've been telling yourself. Focus on the positives.

"Okay, fine. Where? What time? What should I wear?"

"I knew you'd say yes! Come to my place at like... six? We can get ready together, like old times! And wear something sexy."

She doesn't wait for you to argue, just hangs up the phone. She knows you too well.

You know it'll be good for you, to see your girlfriends - but the thought of all the goodbyes you're about to say breaks your heart a little more.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?"

You're sat cross legged on Lacie's living room floor, sharing makeup that's scattered across the coffee table. You sip your wine for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. It's no use.

"I don't know."

"Bullshit."

You turn to look at her.

"What?"

"It's bullshit, babe. Something's going on. You've been given your dream job, and you're moping around like you just got broken up with or something. Why aren't you happy?"

There's no malice in her voice, just pure love. She adores you. You adore her. She's the one person with an outsiders perspective on all of this. So, you cut the act.

"I had my Tethering."

Silence.

She's processing.

"What?!"

"Yeah."

"When? Who? Where? How? Oh my God what is happening? Why didn't you say anything? Fuck, I'm gonna cry. I'm so overwhelmed right now, I'm so happy for you! Wait... are we not happy?"

"It's... complicated."

There's a lump in your throat, but a levity in your heart. A weight has been taken off you. Telling someone the truth has made you feel a little lighter.

"Who is it, babe?"

You take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes.

"Bucky."

Her jaw drops.

"Your... your Dad's best friend Bucky?"

"That's the one."

"Oh. My. Fucking. God."

"Yeah."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah."

"This is complicated."

"Yeah."

"Aw, babe."

She pulls you in for a hug, not caring about the makeup you're smearing across her shirt. You cling to her as tightly as you can, savouring your best friends comfort.

"Does anyone else know?"

"No. We decided not to tell my parents for a while."

"Shit. No wonder you've been so sad lately. You're moving across the country, away from the one person you're supposed to be near."

"It's really hard," you whisper, tears threatening to spill.

"I can't even begin to imagine," she murmurs, holding you close. "I wish you'd told me sooner. We could have talked about it."

"I know," you sniffle. "I thought I could handle it on my own, but I really can't."

"You're not on your own, okay? You have Bucky, and you have me. You can always talk to me about this stuff. God knows I talked your ear off about Cameron."

You laugh softly, thinking back to that day that feels both like yesterday and a million years ago.

"Where is he tonight?"

"Out with his boys. It's good for us to spend a few hours apart."

You smile at the happiness that's radiating off her. She's glowing, beaming in all directions.

"Thanks, Lace. I love you. You know that right?"

"Of course I do. I love you too. So much," she leans forward to kiss your cheek. "Now let's have one hell of a last girls night, shall we?"

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You've lost track of exactly where you are.

You know you're downtown somewhere, in one of the bars. This one smells like wood and whiskey, lowlit and smoky. You hit the cocktail bar first, then the one covered in leopard print, then the monochrome pink one. Now, you're here.

The six of you are sat at a booth, high heels tangled and legs intertwined under the table. The wood is sticky with lemon wedges from tequila shots, salt scattered across the surface.

"If you find any hot west coast men, will you send them my way?" Reese asks, nudging you with her shoulder.

"And if you find any hot west coast women, will you send them mine?"

Everyone laughs, the scent of perfume filling the air.

"Rosa, what happened to Aubrey? We liked her!"

"Caught her kissing my ex girlfriend. So now they're both my ex girlfriends."

"Jesus Christ."

"Man, that's rough," Lacie giggles next to you.

The other girls continue to talk about Aubrey's infidelity as Lacie leans to whisper in your ear.

"Have you said goodbye to Bucky yet?"

You nod.

"Yesterday. I stayed the night, we fell asleep together. Said our goodbyes in the morning. It was awful."

"Love you," she whispers, squeezing your hand under the table.

"Love you too," you reply, squeezing back.

"There's a table of super hot guys over there," Maggie observes, tilting her head in their direction. "Maybe we should conveniently dance that way in a little while."

You don't bother to look over, knowing that none of them will compare to your soulmate. The other girls seem interested, though, so you smile along with them.

"Babe," Sam hisses, kicking you under the table. "There's a hot guy at that table, three o'clock, that keeps staring at you."

You glance over, and your heart stutters in your chest.

Bucky.

His blue eyes pierce your soul, even from across the room. For a moment, it's only the two of you, all the noise forgotten.

You're snapped back to reality by Sam.

"Fuck, he's hot. If you don't want him, I do."

"You should talk to him," Lacie suggests quickly. "Why not, right?"

She's practically pushing you out of the booth, high school wrestler style. In another life, you think, she would have made a good football player. All five foot four of her.

You walk past his table, eyes still locked on him, and towards the bathrooms. You know he'll follow you. You walk to the end of the hallway and out of the door, into the fresh night air.

You feel him appear before you see him. You lean your body against the wall, head resting on the cold brick. Bucky stands in front of you, shirt stretched across his shoulders gorgeously.

"Hi."

"Hi, honey baby."

You smile softly at the nickname.

"What are you doing here?"

"I got dragged to a boys night. What are you doing here?"

"I got dragged to a girls night."

He laughs, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

"Thought we said our goodbyes. I didn't think I'd see you again before I left."

"Me too. But you know the Universe. It hates us."

"Cosmic karma," you whisper.

The two of you stand down the alleyway, looking at each other carefully. Neither of you wants to spook the other person. You'd processed your leaving, said your emotional goodbyes. And now he's here, standing in front of you. You don't want to have to do it all again.

"I should probably get back inside, before the girls get the wrong idea."

"Baby, I followed you to the bathroom. They've already got the wrong idea."

You chuckle, kicking at a rock on the ground.

"Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna explain this."

A smile. A pause.

"I'll let you get back to your friends, then."

You lean up to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

"Bye, Buck."

"Bye, pretty girl."

You push off the wall and walk away towards the door. Suddenly, a warm hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you into a solid chest.

Bucky kisses you like a man possessed. There's nothing gentle about it - just pure, unadulterated passion. It's all teeth and tongue and nipping and biting, neither of you willing to be the first to pull away.

He walks you back into the wall, pushing you against the rough brick. You hike a leg up onto his hip as he grabs your thigh to pull you closer, desperate to feel all of you. Your hands are in his hair, around his neck, tangled in his collar, his shirt, his belt loops. Anything you can get your hands on, you grab.

A distant chorus of cheers break you out of your lust fuelled haze. A bachelorette party walks by, one of the women winking at you as they go. You and Bucky take a step away from each other, straightening out your clothes and fixing your hair.

"Promise me you'll call me if you need anything," Bucky murmurs, leaning to rest his forehead on yours.

"I promise," you whisper, almost against his lips. "Goodbye, Bucky."

"Goodbye, honey girl."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The salty ocean wind whips through your hair, sun beating down onto your skin, some upbeat pop song humming from the radio. You keep your eyes glued to the road in front of you, begging yourself not to look back. You know if you do, you'll turn the car around and run straight back into Bucky's arms.

Let the happiness seep through, you remind yourself, gripping the steering wheel.

Let the happiness seep through.

tag list part one -

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