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springdandelixn · 5 months

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Eyes of the Devil

—Boss!Andy Barber x Assistant!F!Reader

Summary — Happiness blinds you from the horror that looms around the corner.

Warnings — noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, forced oral (m receiving), betrayal, blackmailing, cumshot to the face and implied kidnapping if you squint. Mean!Andy is present.

Word Count — 2.7K

A/N — My first entry for @thebasementspouses The 12 Men of Christmas Writing Challenge. This is also the first time I'm writing for Andy. And honestly it was hard yet fun ^^ Should you expect more Andy from me in the future? Fuck yeah.

Shoutout to my betas by @vellicore and @lunarbuck. But all mistakes are mine alone.

Gif by @barneswilsonrogers

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Once again, you’re burning the midnight oil.

With the holidays fast approaching, Dolores in accounting has you working double time on filing the pending paperwork that needs to be audited before the year ends. Even so, it’s work you don’t mind—you have nowhere to be and no one to see, your cubicle serving as a fortress, your home away from home.

“Aren’t you heading out yet?” You look up from your computer to see Mr. Barber smiling down at you, his coat hanging from his arm where the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up his elbows. He already looks run down from the day’s work, yet he still manages to be chipper.

“Just finishing up on some tasks, Mr. Barber.” You respond with a smile. “I’ll get going as soon as I’m done.”

“Is that the year end report?”

You nod and hold back the sigh that wants to escape. “Dolores doesn’t want to wait until the last minute to finish it so she’s asking for the report 3 weeks in advance.”

“Seems a bit early, don’t you think?” You think he’s talking to you, but his eyes are cast down, his lips twisted in thought. He must have forgotten that he approved her early leave, yet you don’t find it in you to correct him. “Well, you take it easy then. I wouldn’t want you getting too worked up over it.” Your boss says, concern laced in his voice. “Just finish what you can. And if there is anything I can help you with, you just say the word.”

“Don’t worry, Sir. I have everything I need—just have to double check then compile them before sending them off to her.” The assurance you give seems to placate him, and you feel a sense of joy that you see him about to take off.

Not that you don’t enjoy talking to your boss; he’s the only one, aside from the other department heads, you interact with on a daily basis. But he’s still the CEO, and you can’t help but think about his rank and see him as a superior, even in an informal setting.

“Very well. I’ll leave you to it.” He says, the smile once more present on his lips. But before he leaves, he adds, “Oh, before I forget,” Mr. Barber places a festive paper bag on top of your desk, one you failed to notice him holding when he passed by your desk. “Merry Christmas.”

A gift. Something you never expected to receive from your boss.

“Oh, you didn’t have to bother, Sir.” You tell him as you stare at the bag in awe. A plain white box is nestled between the sheets of pink and purple paper when you peek inside.

“It’s really no trouble. Just a little something I picked up from my overseas trip last week.” He explains, the smile on his face seemingly growing wider, more playful, something you’ve never seen on him before. “I hope you like it.”

You return his smile. “I’m sure I would, Sir. Thank you.”

A snow globe. That’s what Mr. Barber gave you.

But it isn’t just any snow globe, no. It is a limited edition collectible of your favorite cartoon character. You don’t even know how he got his hands on one, with it being sold out within minutes of being released, or how he even knew it was your favorite—probably from the small figurines you keep on your desk—but you feel elated just by looking at it.

You examine it with excited hands, curious at the button that sits underneath the base. They never advertised it as something electronic. You press the button, and to your surprise, a soft melody plays as the faux snow within blows on its own, making it even more magical than you thought it to be. A tiny blue light at the chest of the character begins blinking along with the tune, a squeal of glee leaving your lips.

It has you thinking of buying him a really good present, one of equal value to the one he’s given.

With a smile, you stow away the packaging and set the snow globe on the shelf where you keep the rest of your collection. This one, though, has a special place at the center of all the others, the star of the show as it should be.

You stare at your computer in shock.

The image of you naked in bed, one hand on your tit, and the other grasping a toy with the other end buried in your cunt with your face twisted in pleasure. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you immediately close the image, looking around to see if anyone witnessed it as well. But no one resides on this side of the floor aside from you and Mr. Barber.

Panic rises in your throat as you try to think who sent it to you. But most importantly, how they got such a picture of you in the privacy of your own home.

Your computer pings once more, and your stomach turns when you see the same unknown email address pop up from the corner of your screen. You don’t dare open it, too afraid of its contents. Instead, you delete it, even empty out the trash all the same to completely purge it from existence.

Beads of sweat form at your nape, the beating of your heart growing heavier by the second as the fear continues to bloom in your chest. What do they want? Why are they doing this to me? The thoughts swirl in your head, and all you can think about after is going home to hide. But you can’t; they’ve made it known to you that the place that should be the safest no longer is. They only have footage of you in your room, but it isn’t certain that they don’t have eyes in other parts of your apartment.

“Do you have a moment?”

Mr. Barber’s voice startles you, making you sit up straight in your seat and look up at him with wide eyes. The smile on his face dwindles and turns into a curious frown, most likely recognizing the trepidation painted on yours.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, worry laced in his voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uhh—yes, Sir. I just—I think my breakfast isn’t sitting well in my stomach.” You lie, but you’d rather let your boss know that you’re about to shit your pants than telling him the truth.

“Maybe some soda would help? Or I think Angie in HR has some medicine you can take.”

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll figure it out.” You tell him, forcing a smile to hopefully stop him from prying any further. “Did you need help with something?”

As if remembering what he came to you for, he says, “Ah, yes. I actually do.” Pulling away from your cubicle, he adds, “I made some changes to my itinerary for my business trip—I was hoping to run them by you.” But there’s still apprehension visible around him as he makes his request known. “Do you have time to come to my office? Or do you want to grab some fresh air first?”

You want to say yes, to deal with your anonymous harasser head-on, but deep down, you know you can’t. The fear would only grip you tighter and render you useless for the entire day, and the last thing you want is to show your boss an ounce of incompetence and a chance for him to ask what’s running in your head.

“No.” You respond, already standing from your seat. “I can step out after our discussion.” Grabbing the folder you compiled for his trip and snatching your notepad from your desk, you follow him back to his office.

Work will help you take your mind off of things.

“Lock the door, please.” Mr. Barber instructs, and you do as you’re told. “If you can just take note of the new arrangements I made.” You step over to the side of his desk, taking the sheet of paper he holds out to you.

Yet shock grips you once more when you look down at it, your hands shaking as the sheet he gave you has the image that was sent to you earlier printed on it.

“You—”

“You scream and I’ll send it to the entire office.” Mr. Barber says, his concern from earlier is now gone and replaced with something vile as he looks up at you from where he’s seated. “So be a good girl and kneel.”

You don’t understand what’s happening. How did he get a hold of this picture? Was he sent the same email? Has your harasser already done the unthinkable, and your boss is using it to his advantage? Unless—

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Sweetheart.” From the way he says it, you know it’s a threat, and the one he said earlier circles in your head that you quickly obey, placing the folders in your hands atop his desk and getting down on your knees. You watch him with fear as he rolls his chair closer, trapping you between his thick thighs.

“Sir, what’s g—”

“Did I say you could speak?” Mr. Barber scolds, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forcing you to look up at him, his sapphire eyes looking darker than you recall. “You do what I say when I say and that includes talking, am I clear?” His words weigh heavy in the air, and you can do nothing but nod your head in agreement. “Good girl. We don’t want the entire company receiving such a scandalous Christmas present, do we?”

You shake your head, too afraid to speak, knowing he hasn’t permitted you to do so.

A sinister smirk forms on his lips, and you keep your eyes on the button of his white shirt when he releases your face. You swallow thickly in fear, already knowing what comes next, what he would have you do as his hands fumble with the buckle of his belt and the zip of his pants.

He groans low, the sound, although soft, echoing loudly in your ear when he pulls his cock free of its confines. It’s already stiff from what you can see, with precum beading at the tip. You shiver when he places a hand on your shoulder, fingers tapping, caressing the fabric of your chiffon blouse before he wraps them around the back of your neck.

“If you can fuck yourself with that toy, I’m sure you know how to suck a cock.” He utters, his other hand taking his length and tapping the tip gently against your lips. “Think of this as a performance review. You please me well enough, I might just give you a raise.” It’s a challenge, one you know you have no way of winning.

With shaky hands, you take his cock from him and stroke it a few times. Fear envelops you, the small space he’s trapped you in rendering you claustrophobic that you feel the pounding of your chest right at your ears. Slowly, you part your lips and wrap them around the tip, disgust rolling in your stomach as the pad of your tongue presses against the underside of his cock.

But all of a sudden, he pushes your head down, forcing you to take the entirety of his cock. Tears pool in your eyes when he hits the barrier of your throat, choking around him. You try to pull away, doing your best to breathe through your nose while you push a hand against his stomach and the other slapping onto his thigh.

You want to pull away, to spit him out and endure the humiliation of having your colleagues see the vulgar image, but Mr. Barber—no! He deserves no respect! But Andy is being forceful, keeping his hand around your nape and holding you down longer. Until finally, he lets go, and you gasp for air as you pull him away from your mouth, spit dripping while you cough profusely from the roughness he’s bestowed.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” He says between chuckles, taking you by the back of your head this time and pushing you back between his thighs. “We’re just getting started.”

He doesn’t even give you enough time to recover from his assault when he drives his cock back into your mouth, the saliva gathered at your tongue serving as lubricant, one he uses to his advantage as he pilots your head up and down against him.

His groans of pleasure fill the expanse of his office, mixed with your muffled grunts of revulsion and torment. Though you do nothing to fight back, afraid of the consequences you’ll suffer if you do and choose to endure his depravity, to allow him to use you as he so desires.

“Did you like my gift?” He says between shaky breaths. “I knew it was perfect.”

The snow globe! But why?! Why is he doing this to you?!

Shutting your eyes tight, you do your best to shut him out, to think of someone else, someone from your past who’s receiving the lustful deed of your mouth. But the way he says your name, the ways his voice continues to permeate your senses, makes it all too difficult. That it’s only Andy you feel, Andy who controls.

Tears stream down your face when he takes hold of your face with both his hands. Instead of guiding your head the way he wishes, he fucks your mouth with reckless thrusts. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I saw you playing with yourself.” He says between grunts. “Couldn’t stop thinking of what else you could do.” Once, twice, several more times, the tip of his cock hits your throat. You stop yourself from gagging, staying strong to please him and deciding to pleasure him, hollowing your cheeks and caressing the veins of his cock with your tongue.

If he finishes soon, your torment will be done as well.

Placing your hands over his, you move to your own volition—much to his surprise when you hear the grunt from his chest and the way he frees you from his hold. You take more of him, all of him, one hand reaching to caress his balls while the other strokes what you no longer fit in your mouth. You even moan for added effect to make him believe that you enjoy what he’s thrust you into and that you share in his pleasure—one you can confirm when you feel him throb between your lips.

But once again, he surprises you, gasping when he pushes you off of him, yet his hand returns to the back of your neck, keeping you in place.

“Open your mouth. Eyes on me.” He commands, and you do as you are told. Sapphires look down on you, even darker than before, and you hang your tongue like a dog while he takes his cock tight in his hand and strokes himself fast. Within seconds, he lets out a garbled grunt, and you close your eyes in horror when hot strings of white shoot out of him and paint your lips as well as your cheeks.

You’re crying once again, confusion swirling in your head. He played you for a fool—infiltrated the safety of your home without even so much as trying, because you let him in. But you fail to understand why. Why he’s treating you this way, why he even thought about treating you like this.

You think he’s done when he leans back in his seat and loosens his hold on himself. But that’s far from it. Andy chuckles, deep and dark, pressing the tip against his come and smears it over your lips, pushing it once more into your mouth.

“Swallow.” Another command. “Suck me clean.”

And you do. The warmth of his seed scalding your throat, and you fight the bile that rises in return.

“I already booked your holiday leave,” Andy says breathily with a sinister grin, his thumb rubbing at the back of your neck.

You look at him with wide, fearful and curious eyes. What? Holiday leave? But you never booked one.

His laughter then fills your ears, seemingly sensing your distress. “It’s the changes to my business trip—you’ll be accompanying me.” He answers, slipping his cock out and taking your chin, rubbing his thumb against your lower lip that’s still sticky with his come. “I need all the time I could get to see if your cunt feels as great as your mouth.”

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber #dark andy barber #eyes of the devil #tbschristmaschallenge #defending jacob #chris evans characters #shadeysprings fics

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springdandelixn · 5 months

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the best swordsman ⚔️

experimented with new brushes here <3

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springdandelixn · 5 months

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Reminder: Spam likers will be blocked.

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springdandelixn · 6 months

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𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ☽☾ Incubus!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ☽☾ 3.4k Warnings ☽☾ Swearing, pet names, smut (monsterfucking, unprotected + possessive piv, dirty talk, primal + breath play, daddy + praise + degradation + slight blood + dacryphilia kink, multiple orgasms, use of appendages (tail), DP in same hole) Author’s Note ☽☾ I have nothing to say in my defence, except that I am so sorry. Event ☽☾ @rookthorne's Fright Night | Masterlist Beta'd by ☽☾ @smutconnoisseur – chaos kittens, I almost killed SC off, if that gives you any implication of just how much this fic is.

Depths of Pleasure Masterlist

Little Red Riding Hood never stood a chance against the Big Bad Wolf, not when the wolf was a honed predator with skills he’d perfected over the centuries. A little game of chase would bring out the beast in your Incubus, and you just had to hope he’d kept some semblance of his charming self.

“Are you sure about this?”

Bucky looked at you, eyes narrowed and a slight tilt to his head. There was a glint of something you couldn’t place in his eyes that had become black depths, reflecting only the light of the moon. “Honey,” he purred, and his tongue, long and slick, ran over his lips and then his fangs. “All you have to do is run.”

“But what if I get lost?” The words weren’t quite enough to cover the entirety of your hesitance, if you were honest, but it was what you had. “It’s dark, and all I have is this cape,” you said, holding out the thick, soft material of your cape – coloured crimson with golden hems.

“You won’t get lost, sweetheart,” Bucky said simply. His wings that had been furled against his back shuddered and stretched out, the tips brushing the ground as he shivered through the feeling. You could see his tail wrap around his calf and then sway and twitch.

“But-”

“We’re jus’ playin’ a little game of Red Ridin’ Hood–aren’t we? You’re the poor little girl, lost in the woods and runnin’ from the big,” Bucky paused, stepping closer, “bad,” another pause, and you sensed the tension that the words carried – it made your skin prickle with electricity. He kissed you full on the mouth, forcing his tongue past your lips to run coaxingly along your own, when finally, he pulled back. “Wolf.”

He grinned and his fangs shone in the light of the moon, and he tilted his head again. “Can’t be that dumb for me yet, Angel, c’mon.” He stepped back and you bit down the quiet whine in your throat. “Go on. Daddy wants to toy with his prey.”

“But-” You tried again, reaching for him.

A shadow replaced the moon, a dark film of red and black. It was Bucky’s wings – twitching in the eagerness to take flight. “I said run.”

The dust cloud from the flap of Bucky’s wings made your cloak ripple around your body, exposing the thin dress you wore beneath the cover of red. With your final warning uttered, you took off to the tree line, darting between the pines and holding your dress up off the ground – branches and thickets of thorns cut and tore at your shins and hands, but you pushed on.

Darkness covered the entirety of the forest – shadows danced on your path. They gave the illusion of a pursuer, but you knew for sure the only creature hunting you was airborne, more than likely watching you from a perch in the trees.

Paths wove and twisted between the trees, and you trusted your instincts. Well before you had agreed to play this game, Bucky had assured you that you would be alone with no chance of a lone predator or bystander to encounter, and that had been the truth – there was not a single sign of life in this forest aside from the pounding of your heart in your ears and of your feet over the forest floor.

A sense of foreboding settled over you then – since you were truly alone, with an Incubus after you, what would stop something else, another demon perhaps, deciding to join the game you were playing? Was that even a possibility?

You grimaced and ran off in another direction, sticking to the trails as your cloak whipped behind you. There was a fork amongst a small clearing just ahead, and you slowed to walk, then a standstill; just to catch your breath.

To the right was the way to the darker side of the forest where the canopy was so thick with branches no light pierced through. To the left lay the way to the streams and rivulets that trickled through the forest to the lake on the opposite side.

Moonlight flooded the clearing as you panicked and fumbled with your decision.

The heavy beat of wings in the distance made you flinch and cower, you had stood still too long. “Dammit,” you muttered, observing your surroundings for a place to hide. A tree trunk, wide and covered in creeping moss, stood rooted to your right, and those wing beats were nearing faster than you could outrun. “Shit, shit–here.”

Your feet slipped over roots and vines in your scramble, and it was not a moment too late. A loud thump sounded a few feet from where you had been standing, and you peered around the trunk of the tree.

Bucky was standing there, head tilted up to watch the skies. His horns reflected the moonlight, but it was nothing compared to the voids of his eyes – inky blackness swallowed all light that would bounce off what used to be his icy irises, and he was breathing heavily, as though scenting the air.

“Oh, Angel! I know you’re here, sugar!” he boomed, and his voice – it had transformed into something guttural, primal with the rasp and tone. It called to your baser instincts and you struggled to not let a whimper fall from your lips, instead, your body twisted the arousal and pooled it in your cunt, making it throb.

Your breath left you in a sharp exhale as Bucky turned so his back was now facing you. The skin around his wings was mottled red and blood trickled down from the weeping wounds, and as you watched, the muscles and sinewed skin of the wings themselves twitched and jumped. Black tendrils of something curved down his spine and followed the contours of his back and waist, before they stopped at the very top of his tail – the tip of which swished with eagerness, a playful action that was offset by the entirety of his body language.

It was a haunting sight. Never before had you seen Bucky in his full form. He looked twice as large, as though the very transformation of uncloaking his monstrous form had made him grow a few feet both in height and brawn.

Oh, God, you thought, clenching your thighs.

“Where is your God now, Angel?” he asked, deceptively calm. “Don’t think I can’t sense His name being invoked at the sight of me, which means…” The moonlight shadowed his form as he turned again, this time, he was facing you – but it seemed he hadn’t caught you staring. “That means, honey, that you are so fuckin’ close, and you’ll be screamin’ to the Heavens, soon enough.”

You shuddered and gulped, and then, those deep, black eyes were on you. Bucky had shifted slightly to the side in your daze, and he was staring straight at you. His wings raised up slightly as he grinned, all teeth and tongue, and his tail thrashed side to side, as if it could no longer restrain itself.

“Oh, no,” you breathed, blinking once, twice, and then you turned to run. The sight of Bucky had kickstarted the instinctual fear that had laid dormant. “No!”

Branches whipped against your cheeks and arms this time as you took off, deeper into the forest without a care for where you were running, only that you put as much distance between the two of you.

A loud howl tore through the night and you came to a halt, completely against your will. You panted and tried to force your legs to move, but nothing worked as it should – you were rooted to the forest floor just as the trees around you.

Footsteps crunched over the leaves and twigs behind you, followed by the sound of something being dragged along. “Well, well, well,” a deep voice drawled. You couldn’t turn to face the source – instinctually, you knew it was Bucky, in whatever form he was in. “Who knew the sweet, little Angel could run so damn fast, huh?”

The clawed edge of a wing was the first thing you saw in your peripheral vision, then a horn, then Bucky’s face. He looked smug, a wide smirk pulled at the corner of his lips and his eyes glinted with mischief. You were unable to open your mouth, so you just stared at him, eyes wide as he neared.

“I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he cooed, and his hand cupped the side of your face while the other traced lines over your neck with a sharp claw. “What’d you think of that new trick? Got you pretty good.”

A finger snap sounded, and you could move. You gasped for air and slumped where you stood. “What the hell!”

Bucky grinned. “Don’t sound so shocked, sugar,” he purred, tilting his head. “Daddy would do anythin’ to make sure his Angel does as she’s told, right?”

It was either an irrationally foolish surge of bravery, or pure spite that fuelled your next move, and as you looked back in hindsight, it would be the moment that changed the game.

You rose to your full height and defiantly set your jaw, looking at Bucky through narrowed eyes. “Fuck you, and fuck your game of cat and mouse.” And you bolted off, panting from the adrenaline.

There was a peel of harsh laughter behind you, but you didn’t slow down, not even when you heard heavy footsteps trailing after you. Your feet pounded over the floor as you ran as fast as you could manage, and before long, you were in another clearing. It was much like the last one, only the canopies of the trees were sparser and allowed moonlight to wash over the dewy grass.

“You can’t run for long, Angel!” Bucky called behind you, and to your horror, you realised he was far too close for comfort. “Daddy’ll get what he’s owed–shut that pretty mouth so you can’t insult ‘im no more.”

For the first time that night, terror flooded you. Bucky would catch you, and while you had previously discussed what he could and could not do, it didn’t stop the instinctual fear of being prey to an angry demon – one that could overpower you with brute strength and magic. “Fuck,” you cursed, heaving for breath. “No, no, you wo-”

The air was slammed from your lungs as a much larger body collided with yours, and you grunted with the pain of being pressed against someone’s chest with such force. Your back was slammed up against the trunk of a tree, and you blinked several times as needles and twigs fell from above, landing at your feet that dangled off the ground.

Your eyes finally focused on the face in front of you, and you gasped sharply. Bucky was smirking, and his eyes held an aura of danger that made your stomach flip in fear and arousal. “Got you, little bunny. Did you really think you could run from me?”

“No,” you squeaked. “No, no–I didn’t, daddy-”

His hand moved to cup your throat, squeezing the sides enough to make you lightheaded. “You have a real fuckin’ funny way of showin’ it, honey. What was all that?”

The pressure of his hand around your throat sent the very last of the thoughts in your mind southwards, leaving you struggling to even form a sentence. “I-”

Bucky clicked his tongue and sneered. “I think this costume needs to go–best believe you’re keepin’ that cape on, though.” His claws flashed in the light and then the thin fabric that kept you modesty vanished with a swipe of his hand. “Tha’s better, baby, isn’t it?” He inhaled sharply, letting his nostrils flare, before he looked down at your thighs. “Seems runnin’ has made my Angel all hot an’ bothered.”

You whined and gripped his wrist with one hand, while the other scrambled over the bark of the tree. “Daddy- Please, please, I need you.”

“How cute, my sweet lil’ Angel beggin’ for her daddy to fuck her,” he purred, and his mouth trailled up and down your throat, licking and biting hard enough to draw blood. “Now, tha’s somethin’ I can oblige. Force you to take my cock while you squirm and cry–fuck, I wanna see you cry for me, honey.”

Unable to speak, you just nodded vehemently, staring into Bucky’s face. The ache in your cunt throbbed and pulsed, the pain of it unbearable and it left you feeling open and wanting. “Please–I need you, daddy, just-” You hiccuped and swallowed at the feral expression that pulled Bucky’s face taut. “Just fuck me, make me yours.”

“Oh, baby.” Something in his tone made your eyes become unfocused, and you moaned as his face came so close to yours that you could feel his breath over your lips. “I’ll do so much more than that. I’m gonna fuck you ‘till you cry for nothin’ but for who you belong to–and even then,” he whispered, and your hooded eyes stared into the dark abyss that were his eyes. “Daddy won’t stop. You’re mine to fuck, mine to use, and you’re fuckin’ mine to keep.”

“Yes,” you moaned loudly, tipping your head back. “Give it to me, daddy.” The grin that Bucky flashed you with made some semblance of thought swirl in your mind, and you cried out, “Wait! Wait, I-”

Bucky froze, but his hands remained where they were, securing you against the tree. “What is it?” he asked softly. “What’s wrong, honey?”

You shook your head, and stared at his mouth. “Oh, what sharp teeth you have.” The words came out as a breathy whisper, carrying an intention that made Bucky’s expression darken even further.

“Oh, all the better for markin’ you up, sugar,” he growled, nipping at your bottom lip. "Gonna use ‘em to claim you as mine–force the lower demons from the rings a’hell to bow before my queen."

It was your turn to grin, and you did so dazedly as another throb went through your whole core. “Oh, and what a beautiful tail, mister wolf,” you teased, watching through half lidded eyes as it moved and curled in the air.

“All the fuckin’ better for keepin’ your pussy on display, baby,” he purred, moving the appendage until the very tip of it brushed your inner thigh. “These gorgeous thighs jus’ wanna keep my pretty girl hidden, ain’t that right? Need somethin’ to keep them open.”

You shuddered and moaned as Bucky pressed forward, hunching in on himself to suck at your pulse point. His knee came to rest against your heat and you ground down against the tight muscles of his thigh until you whimpered. “Wait, wait, mister wolf,” you breathed, and Bucky pulled back to look into your face.

“Yeah?”

“What a gorgeous cock you have,” you whispered.

A deep, guttural growl rumbled through Bucky’s chest, and you felt him force his cock into your cunt to the hilt with a single thrust. You cried out as he grit through his teeth, “All the fuckin’ better for fillin’ this perfect pussy with, Angel. Hold on while daddy takes what he’s owed, baby.”

The rhythm Bucky set was punishing beyond belief. Every stroke of his cock over your walls made you whine and moan for more, desperate for the first climax that was cresting so fast you could barely warn him.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me,” Bucky growled into your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I only jus’ fuckin’ started and you’re gonna cum for me? Are you that fuckin’ desperate for daddy?”

“Yes! Yes–need t’a cum daddy,” you begged, clawing his shoulders and shaking with the force of his thrusts. “Please!”

“Good fuckin’ girl–tha’s my girl, go on,” he grunted, “give it to daddy. Let go–’m not done with this tight cunt yet, baby.”

Your first climax hit you with the force of a devastating earthquake – it tore through your core with such ferocity and heat you could have sworn you were burning from the inside out as your thighs clamped tightly around Bucky’s hips. The deep, harsh thrusts he fucked you with drew out the pleasure until you were keening.

“Tha’s it, honey, tha’s it. Good girl. Good girl, let it out–need to make room for daddy, don’t you?” Bucky coaxed, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wan’ you to cum again, need you so bad.”

“I ca- Oh! Bu- Daddy!” You cried, throwing your head back. In your haze from your first orgasm, Bucky had moved his tail from your inner thigh up to your clit, where it thrummed so fast over the bundle nerves that it blurred. “Fuck! Fuck, feels s’good, daddy!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Bucky cooed, rocking his hips faster. “But you’re not cryin’, and you for sure as shit still able to speak.”

You whined and choked on air as his cock started to fill you again, it felt as though it had gotten bigger while inside you and the barbs were threatening to expand and latch on – Bucky was close, for all his talk, he couldn’t resist. “Daddy, daddy–yes, need more,” you begged, and he groaned.

“You want more, honey?” Bucky asked suddenly, and his wings shuddered as they expanded out again. The clawed tips dug into the earth and the bones that lined the top of the sinew stiffened just as Bucky snarled, “Then fuckin’ take it.”

His thrusts, while powerful before, breached the line of what was possible as his wings tensed and he fucked up into your cunt with such force it pushed you up the tree, tearing your cloak on the ragged bark. “Yes! Oh my- Yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop-”

“I won’t, don’t you worry,” Bucky panted, and he made his tail push into your cunt as he dragged himself out. “You’re gonna be fuckin’ gaping when ‘m done with you, Angel–you feel so fuckin’ good on my cock, gonna be even better with my tail.”

The foreign pressure of his tail snaking itself in with his cock made you cry out and sob, but it moved in a hooked gesture and started to thrum against that spot, and in time with the thrusts of his hips, you were sure you were going to pass out in his arms. “I’m gonna cum! Daddy–Daddy! Please!”

Bucky growled as his hand slammed against the tree, and his claws scraped roughly against the bark. “Cum for daddy, baby–give it to me, now,” he groaned, and just as your orgasm crested, Bucky shouted into your neck. “Fuck! Oh, Angel–’m close.”

Your mind had melted from your ears as your climax took your breath away, and with a shaky breath, you felt tears run down your cheeks as you stared into Bucky’s eyes. “Daddy,” you rasped, cupping his jaw tenderly in your hand. “Cum for me–fill me, make me yours.”

The way Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat made you smile softly, and you watched, entranced, as his climax took its roots. His eyes, black as ebony, flashed in the light from the moon and his lips upturned into a snarl. Pleasure was sparking through your core at his continued thrusts that grew harsh and bruising, but you kept your eyes on his face as a ragged gasp choked him.

“Oh, fuckin’ hell, yes–yes, you feel s’good, baby,” he praised, making you moan and preen. “Gonna fill this perfect pussy up–make her leak me so everyone knows you’re mine. You are mine.”

“Yours,” you breathed, and you gasped sharply at the feeling of the barbs swelling, latching into place and forcing Bucky to thrust hard into your cunt to keep himself there. “Give it to me, daddy, wan’ it so bad.”

Bucky whined and forced himself forward, pushing his barbed dick into the hilt when a warmth bloomed in your cunt. “Fuck! Fuck, baby, ‘m cumming, please-” Bucky rasped against your lips. To tease and prolong his release, you squeezed him rhythmically with your walls. His breath hitched and the hand that had slammed against the trunk of the tree seized.

A loud crunching sound came from beside your head, and you glanced over to see Bucky’s fist tearing the bark from the wood with his grip.

Moans and praises fell from his lips like sweetened honey, and you kissed him as his climax tapered off. “That’s it, daddy, good boy.”

“Fuck,” he murmured. You couldn’t help but giggle at his blank expression.

“I think you fucked yourself dumb, Buck,” you said quietly, and he narrowed his eyes at you, displeased with the insinuation.

“Who said I was done yet, huh?” His hands grabbed your thighs and he hefted you close to his chest. You squealed and gripped hard onto his shoulders. “Still have’ta take you home–fuck you on every surface. I did say you won’t be able to fuckin’ speak when I was done with you.”

you still with me? good – good girl.

↠ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ↞

#b&n signal boost

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springdandelixn · 6 months

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⊹-୨୧-⊹𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⊹-୨୧-⊹

⊹–SUMMARY–⊹ Inexperienced and still freshly-traumatized by his first heartbreak, Steve Rogers decides to finally move away for college after taking two gap years to work, save, and help his Ma around the house. It’ll be good for him. Away from his ex. Away from his hometown. He's excited to finally chase his dreams and begin again as a promising fine arts student at Richards College. Well, almost. Thanks to a generous scholarship spanning the next four years of his life, Steve is required to participate in on-campus Greek life. It’s simple: join a frat. They shouldn't be too intimidating. At least they're not as bad as they are in the movies, right? Right..?

⊹–PAIRINGS–⊹ Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!F!Reader

⊹–WARNINGS–⊹ more to be added as series progresses frat bros being frat bros, sorority sisters being sorority sisters, manipulation, coercion, blackmail, fluff, angst, whump, explicit forced s3xual acts, slow burn, dissociation, nud1ty, dubcon (bordering noncon), forced drvgging, mentions of kidnapping, emotional damage, Steve's just trying his best, Bucky and Sam are major frat bros, Tony and Clint are somewhere I swear The warnings listed here encapsulate the series as a whole and not every single chapter. Please be mindful and read the chapter warnings!

any art featured in the series title header and story-specific dividers was found on pinterest and is used in good faith. all credit goes to the original artists, as i could not find accurate credit for any. collage done by me

୨୧ series is slated to start monday, october 30th ୨୧

୨୧ upload schedule coming soon - stay tuned ୨୧

ALL TIED UP: STEVE'S WEEK

⊹– One: Saturday, currently.

⊹– Two: Last Monday.

⊹– Three: Saturday, still.

⊹– Four: Last Tuesday.

⊹– Five: Last Tuesday, still.

⊹– Six: Last Wednesday.

⊹– Seven: Last Thursday.

⊹– Eight: Last Friday.

⊹– Nine: Saturday, again.

#b&n signal boost

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springdandelixn · 6 months

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Hollow

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky touches on memories from the past and wants to start a new tradition with you.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal fingering, dirty talk, slight use of knife, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Fic #7 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Newlywed Mob!Bucky won the poll.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A different side of Bucky came out when the leaves began to change. Subtle, but different. It wasn't noticeable to most since he showed people what he wanted them to see. It was a skill he perfected over the years, almost as if he wore a mask to hide his true self. What you saw, however, was ice in his eyes, the same that no doubt ran through his veins. Something weighed on his heart and mind.

You were determined to get to the bottom of it.

As his partner, it wasn't just your job to chase his demons away, but a need to protect him from whatever haunted or hunted him. You wanted to soothe him and let him know he wasn't alone. You knew if the roles were reversed that he'd eliminate anything or anyone that removed the light from your eyes. To have someone that loved you that much was still a bit of a dream.

How thin is the line between love and obsession?

“I can hear you thinking from here, Printsessa,” Bucky said. He knew you were watching him as he sat in his study, even as he focused on something else in front of him. He didn’t turn his back to anyone, except for you. He knew you would never put a knife in it. That was how much faith and trust he had in you. “Don’t want to join me?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” you replied, walking further into the room so you could get a better look at him. He had the sleeves of his button up shirt rolled up, giving you a moment to admire his metal left arm and the tattoos on the right. He commanded the room without standing.

“It's never an interruption if it's you,” he reminded you.

He twirled one of his signature knives between his fingers before he went back to work. The love of your life was an expert in many weapons, but had an affinity for knives. While it didn’t surprise you to find the head of the Bratva with a weapon in hand, you hadn’t expected to see a pumpkin in front of him. “Pumpkin carving? You’re just full of surprises.”

He snorted a little. “I like that I can surprise you.”

Watching him start to carve a pattern in the pumpkin with ease, his eyes narrowed in concentration and hand moving with care, was like a dance. He led with confidence and control. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

“Do you know why some people carve pumpkins?”

You finally took a seat beside him on the sofa, resting a hand on his thigh. His muscles relaxed and you wondered what had him so tense. “I think most do it today to decorate, but some do it to ward off evil spirits,” you said, moving your hand in slow, circular motions as he hummed in acknowledgement. “Is someone haunting you? Do I need to scare them away?”

He tilted his head, a glimmer of pride flickering in his blue eyes as he smiled. “You’d scare them away? You don't think I can handle them myself?”

“I have no doubt you could handle them on your own,” you said with complete certainty. He more than earned his Winter Soldier nickname. “But if something or someone is after you, I want to help.”

He studied you as he lowered his knife and covered your hand with his, holding it like a lifeline. Some protected and fought for him because it was their sense of duty. Others did so out of loyalty to his bloodline. You did it out of love.

Because you did love him.

“No one is after me. At least not today,” he assured you, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “But thank you.”

“Then why are you holding my hand like you can't let go?”

The look he gave you melted your heart a bit. “Because I don't want to let you go.”

It was almost as if he was worried you'd bolt if he released you. The only time you'd run would be when you wanted him to chase you. Or maybe he imagined someone would try to take you away from him. He'd never let anyone get you. “What's on your mind then?”

And how do I help?

“My family,” he admitted, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “My mom used to carve pumpkins. I haven't done it in years.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. His family wasn’t a topic he discussed much, so you didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “Did she teach you how?”

A faint smile appeared and fell just as quickly. “She did,” he said, admiring his handiwork. “I thought it was strange at first, you know? Encouraging me to pull out the insides and leave it hollow. And to carve a face? It almost seemed like a form of torture. Probably why dad demanded I use a decent knife.”

He didn’t hide the hint of anger when he mentioned his dad. You turned your hand over so your palm connected with his, letting him squeeze it to ground him. “But that’s not why your mom did it. She was teaching you to do something beautiful instead of harmful.”

“That's exactly what she did,” he agreed, leaning forward to pick up the knife. “It also encouraged my critical thinking skills. You can’t just dive in without a plan. You have to think it through.”

Bucky sometimes teased that his best friend, Steve, was the man with a plan. The truth was, they both were. Each brilliant in their own way, there was a reason they stayed in power and why so many feared them.

“And I felt proud when she displayed them. Valued,” he continued, his voice a little choked up before he cleared his throat. “It was a tradition I didn't realize I missed.”

Maybe the nostalgia was the reason his eyes looked a bit colder in the fall. “Sounds like a beautiful memory,” you said.

“I hadn’t formed beautiful memories in years until you came along,” he said, his lips skimming your temple. “But you're my family now.”

Tears didn't fill your eyes, but you felt them in your throat. The man was ruthless when the occasion called for it. Terrifying in his rage. You were the lucky one who would never be on the receiving end of it. Only his love. His need. But you could take his rage if you had to.

Like his old memories, you could make it something beautiful.

“You're my family, too,” you told him. You hadn't expected that of Bucky when you met and part of you wanted to stay away from the dangerous world he helped rule, but how could you not want a life with him?

His gaze softened, which warmed your heart. “And I would feel very proud if you helped me finish this,” he said, moving further back against the cushion and opening his legs for you to sit between them. “Maybe it can be the start of our own tradition.”

Your heart raced as you stood up and took a seat on the edge of the cushion, exhaling as he pressed himself against you. “I’m not good at this,” you said, closing your hand around the handle as he placed the knife in it. You didn’t want to ruin the intricate design he already worked so hard on.

His warm breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “We’ll do it together.”

“Guide me?” You asked.

“Of course, Printsessa.”

At the root of everything, Bucky was a man who didn’t want to walk this earth alone. Power and money meant nothing if he didn’t have someone to share himself with. It would’ve left him as hollow as the pumpkins he worried about carving as a child. And if helping him finish this one would make him happy, you’d do just that.

Time passed as he helped you cut into the pumpkin and urged you to follow the stencil, the smell from the pumpkin seeds off to the side bringing a pleasant layer to Bucky's woodsy cologne. There was something intimate about him having you close, his hand directing where yours should go. Like when he taught you how to properly shoot a gun. He said you didn't need his help, but he gave it to you all the same.

Your hold almost slipped when his metal hand snaked between your thighs, softly rubbing your pussy through your underwear. It barely covered your mound, just like your flimsy nightgown. “How am I supposed to concentrate?” you asked, arching as he firmly pressed his palm against you.

“You asked me to guide you. I will,” he said, the light scratch from his scruff making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“You're distracting me,” you whispered, trying to keep your breathing nice and steady.

“Would distracting you be so bad?” he whispered back close to your ear. “We're almost done.”

His fingers gently played with your clit through the fabric, drawing a breathy sigh from you as you squirmed. His almost feathery touch made you all the more determined to finish up, especially since he refused to let you close your thighs to get any friction. You were on the edge of release and he was relentless in loving you.

But he didn't let you come.

“Good girl,” he praised once you finished carving, stopping his fingers as you set the knife down. You bit back a whimper as the rising pleasure faded. “It's beautiful.”

“It is,” you breathed. Instead of a smiling face you saw on so many pumpkins around Halloween, he designed a merged sun and moon. “It's us, isn't it?”

“It is,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before he gestured for you to hand him another knife. “You're my sun.”

“That makes you my moon,” you said, stiffening when you felt the blade at your shoulder. “What are you-”

Bucky sliced through your strap and kissed your bare skin. “I'm starting a new tradition,” he said, doing the same to the other side before he slid your nightgown down. He dragged the knife across your exposed breasts, taking great care not to cut you. “Carve a pumpkin. Cut your clothes off. Make you come.”

“You mean tease my pussy without getting me off,” you said without much bite.

He chuckled, a deep rumble as he set the knife aside. “I always get you off. I’m going to make you feel so good, Solynshko.”

With gentle kisses along your jaw and neck, his large hand slid up to fondle your breasts. The rough pads of his fingers teased your nipples as you gasped and reached back to grasp his hair. He moaned as you twisted your fingers in the strands, his hand sliding down to your wet heat again. Thankfully, he didn't tease you through the fabric this time. His fingers dipped into your underwear and you knew he was eager to feel your arousal.

Everything in your core tightened when he caressed your folds. You met his gaze as you tilted your head back, wanting him to see your desperation as his gaze darkened. “Make me come, please.”

“People beg me for money. Power. Mercy,” he said in a low voice, nuzzling your cheek as he sank a finger in, your walls contracting around him. “Not you. It's only pleasure you ask for.”

“It's you I'm begging for,” you admitted in a whisper. Even when you pushed or questioned why he wanted you of all people, you gave him your love. You yielded only to him and you would never bend your will for anyone else. To deny him would be to deny yourself.

He brushed his lips along your jaw and dipped another finger in as you shuddered. “You begging for me to fuck your pretty pussy with my fingers? Make you ruin this couch before I give you my cock?”

Your head fell back against his shoulder as you bit your lip. “Yes, I am. Ruin me. Love me,” you moaned.

“I love you more than anything,” he promised as your eyes slipped shut, dots of white dancing behind your eyelids.

He gripped your jaw to turn your head back to him, seeking out your lips with his. There was nothing tentative in the kiss, his ice meeting your fire and creating an explosion of need within both of you. Your body hummed as you felt the peak of your impending climax, ready for him to tear you apart.

“Come for me, Printsessa,” he demanded against your lips.

Your pussy clamped around his fingers as you lost yourself to the daze of your orgasm, shamelessly crying out his name. Your juices dripped down his fingers as he helped you ride it out, praising you in your ear and guiding you the way he did with the carving. He was telling the truth before: He always got you off.

“Are you okay?” you asked once you caught your breath, the question you meant to ask the moment you entered his study. He seemed more at ease, though lust now clouded his eyes.

“I'm okay,” he said in a rough voice, slowly pulling his fingers out as you sagged against him. He pulled you closer, enveloping you in his strong arms. It was safe. It was home. “But I think you need my cock.”

“I think I need it, too,” you smiled once you caught your breath, knowing his cock likely twitched in his pants as he tasted you on his fingers. “And you owe me a new nightgown.”

“I ordered you a new one before you came in here,” he said, his expression smug as you turned your head to stare at him. “Now sit on my cock. We have a long night ahead of us.”

“Bossy Pakhan,” you teased.

But if giving you orgasms, ruining your clothes, and making new memories brought the light back in his eyes, you wouldn't complain.

Oh, to belong to him. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#b&n signal boost

1K notes · View notes

springdandelixn · 6 months

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𝐅𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

Pairing ༄ Fireman!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Fireman!Steve Rogers Word Count ༄ 2.5k Warnings ༄ Swearing, pet names, food fight, fluff, crack Author’s Note ༄ I must admit, this was some of the most fun I have had writing. I couldn't stop laughing. Event ༄ @rookthorne's Fright Night | Masterlist

Built Differently Masterlist

It was always a rocky road, establishing new traditions within a family. Naturally, the two men wouldn’t make it that hard, but they wouldn’t make it so easy, either – it did not mean that it would be any less fun, or any less messy, that was for sure.

Navigating the household that belonged to the two men that lay slumbering was no easy feat – not when there were two puppies hellbent on disrupting the peace of the early morning with their yips and demands for attention.

“Babies, babies- Come on, quiet now,” you hissed, petting their heads hastily. The loungewear you had thrown on when you clambered out of bed was being attacked by paws, claws, and tongues as the two puppies jumped from their crates. “Hush, shh!”

Cap and Cleo just stared at you from the floor, heads tilted. “Inside voices, alright?” you pleaded, scratching their chins. “They’re asleep–don’t wanna wake them up now, do you?” They huffed and grumbled low in their throats, then sat back on the floor. “Exactly. Let’s get you some breakfast and then you can go outside and play.”

The two puppies inhaled their breakfast with as little as a tail wag, and then they stormed outside onto the dewy grass that was covered in fallen leaves. You sighed and closed the sliding door behind them, chuckling as they tumbled through the leaves and chased one another.

Fall had arrived faster than you could anticipate, and with it, you were itching to get started for Halloween – carving pumpkins, drinking hot chocolate (which Bucky and Steve splashed a bit of whiskey in, ignorant of your displeasure), and heading into town for the Fall Markets.

Today, however, you had warned them that you were breaking out the flour and sugar; it was bake day, a tradition you had come up with on the spot when you had searched the web for Halloween cakes.

Bucky and Steve were both still asleep. When you had shuffled down the mattress to throw on some clothes, Bucky was the only one to stir, and he pulled Steve close in place of you. The sight warmed your heart.

It didn’t stop you from walking to the kitchen and mentally preparing for what was to come, though.

With Cap and Cleo fed and outside, you turned the coffee maker on with a whirl and you grabbed three mugs from the cabinet. “This should wake them up,” you mumbled as you placed the mugs in a line in front of the machine that hissed and gurgled as it worked.

The smell of fresh brew filled the kitchen, and you turned to the pantry, determined to set out the ingredients for what was needed.

“Flour.” A large white bag hit the counter with a dull thud. “Sugar.” The small container of raw sugar and the larger tub of granulated sugar thumped onto the counter. “What about- Hmm.” You stopped and stared at the shelves of spices, eyeing off the cinnamon amongst many others. “Fuck it.” The cinnamon moved to the counter as well as the salt and baking powder.

All of the other ingredients you needed lined the counter after a few more twirls, and you stopped to consider just how you were going to pull this off. The recipe, one you had found during your hunt for the perfect cake, promised that this was ‘The most faboolous Halloween treat’, and while the photo certainly made that impression, you were not the most successful baker – average at best, you hoped.

You hummed and looked towards the bedroom door where Bucky and Steve slept. They would have their work cut out for them, you decided – you needed their help.

The coffee machine beeped and steam flew from the now full jug of coffee. “Perfect timing.”

Just as you started to pour the dark, smooth, god-send of a liquid, you heard footsteps down the hall. Arms wrapped around your middle and you were pulled into a warm, strong chest. A chin rested on your shoulder and the person huffed.

“Good mornin’, Cherry, baby,” Bucky rasped, and he kissed you on the cheek. “Whatcha makin’? Smells good.”

“Hey, Buck,” you replied, smiling at him. “Coffee–I need yours and Stevie’s help today. Do you think you could go wake him up?”

He sighed. “Do we gotta, sweetheart? That bastard is grumpy in the mornin’s.”

“Yes, we do. And we're baking today, remember,” you reminded him, pointing a spoon at his nose. It dripped coffee as he pouted. “Please go wake your husband up.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, and he let go of you to pad back towards the bedroom. You turned then to look at him – grey sweats hung low on his hips and he shuffled his feet while he rubbed his eyes. His hair was in a messy bun that had more strands loose than tied back. “I can feel you starin’.”

“And?”

Bucky looked over his shoulder and winked before he disappeared behind the door of the bedroom. There was a squeak from the mattress, then a whooping call. “Wake up, husband!”

A loud groan answered Bucky’s shout and you chuckled. The springs of the mattress creaked and another grunt of surprise. “Get off’a me, you bastard,” Steve barked.

“Nope,” Bucky replied, and there was laughter in his voice. “Cherry said you had t’a get up, so you are gettin’ up, you lazy son of a bitch.”

“Boys!” you yelled over the arguing, and they fell silent. “I have coffee. Get your butts out here.”

There were rapid footsteps hurrying down the hall after your words, and you giggled. “I got ‘im!” Bucky said proudly, puffing up his chest. “See, it worked.”

You rolled your eyes and looked at Steve, who was blinking and smiling sleepily at you. “Hey, darlin’.” His body was warm as he pulled you into a hug, and you sighed happily. “Now that you sent this oaf after me, what are we doing?”

“We are baking a cake–I made sure to have everything ready.” You pointed at the ingredients lined on the counter, and Bucky reached over to grab his and Steve’s cup of coffee. “And you know I need my two best helpers to make this work. So, Buck,” you said, looking at him.

He stared back at you with wide eyes over his coffee mug, and he hastily swallowed before standing to attention. “Ma’am?”

You snorted. “You are on mixing duty. The bowls are there, and I need these amounts,” you explained, handing him a slip of paper with measurements for both the dry and wet ingredients. “Don’t forget, different bowls for the wet and dry.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky said seriously with a salute. He marched to the counter, straight-backed and with perfect military precision.

“Drama queen,” Steve muttered.

“And you,” you piped in before Bucky could snipe back. “I will get you to help me with the oven and pouring the mixture into the trays.”

“Got it.” Steve walked over to the cupboard that held the baking trays and pulled out a few to prepare them. You couldn’t help but stare at his navy sweats as they clung to his ass, and the tight, white tank top that was far too tight over his chest. “You stare any longer, honey, and we’ll be baking this cake on our own.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, averting your eyes as both Bucky and Steve chortled. “Anyway, I will get the things needed for icing–I want to make it purple and orange. What do you two think?” They hummed an ascension and you walked to the fridge to get the cream, having already organised the dye earlier.

The three of you worked together to start the cake off, somewhat successfully. Bucky was covered in flour after a much too enthusiastic moment of mixing, and Steve, the smug bastard, had thrown a handful of it at his husband and it landed on target – the side of Bucky’s head, turning his brown locks into white.

“You motherfu-”

“Language!” you laughed, arching a brow. “Or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Since the fuck when!” Bucky argued, his mouth falling slack at the incredulity. “I’ve been swearin’ like a sailor this whole damn time and only now you have a problem wi-”

A cloud of flour exploded over his chest and neck, forcing him to clamp his mouth shut so he wouldn’t inhale the powdered mess. You lowered your hand, now covered in the incriminating evidence, as Bucky blinked and coughed; clouds of white exploding around him.

“Cherry, run!” Steve warned, but you couldn’t move – you were rooted to the spot as your heart hammered and you fought the urge to laugh hysterically.

Bucky put the bowl in his hands down on the counter, shaking his head from the worst of the mess. His eyes found yours, and he stared – a flash of playful anger danced in his eyes before they darkened, that mischievous glint you were oh so used to there to stay. “Yeah, Cherry,” he said slowly, deeply. “You better fuckin’ run, ‘cause if I catch you…”

You hightailed it from the kitchen with a squeal of laughter, your feet slapping on the tile as you bolted towards the dining room. “Oh, shit!”

All you could hear over the pounding of blood in your ears and Bucky’s feet on the floor as he chased you was Steve’s laughter in the kitchen – you could see him bent double by the oven, barely able to stay upright in his mirth. “Steven Grant! Help me!”

“You’re on your own,” Steve called, finally sinking to his knees in the kitchen, unable to stand any longer.

“You bastard!” you hollered back, dodging Bucky’s hands as he rounded the table. “Help me!”

“No one can, Cherry! I’ll get you!” Bucky sang, and he launched himself at you.

You shrieked and dodged to the side before running off again, this time straight back to the kitchen and directly towards Steve, whose bed head was all of what you could see of the blond, his head bowed in hysterics while his shoulders shook from laughter.

“Think fast!” you said quickly, and you jumped behind him, crouching behind his bulk as Bucky skidded to a halt. Steve straightened and held his arms out, placing himself firmly between the fuming brunette and you. “Thank you, finally you’re useful.”

“Excuse me?” Steve huffed. “For that, you can deal with ‘im on your own.” He put his arms down just as Bucky grinned wickedly.

You watched, transfixed with fear, as Bucky’s hand dug into the bag of flour. “Barnes, no, don’t- Don’t do it.”

“Or what?” he challenged, stilling his hand. “What will you do?”

“I will forbid you from having any cake, or cookies, that I bake!” The threat didn’t dissuade him, however.

Flour flew through the air and landed square on your middle while the residue fell to your thighs, and then onto the floor. Bucky cheered and fist pumped. “Bullseye!”

You looked down at your body, then back up at Bucky with a smirk. “Oh, it’s on now.” Launching yourself forward, you hugged Bucky tightly and spread the loose flour on his own shirt. As he groaned and squirmed to get out of your grip, you pushed him back so you could dig your own hand into the bag of flour.

“Cher-” Bucky warned, but he was cut off by a fistful of flour hitting him dead in the face. He sneezed continually and shook his head while you laughed. White powder covered his face and caked his stubble. The entirety of his front was covered and he looked like your very own Casper the Ghost. “Goddammit!”

Before you knew what was happening, another ball of the ammunition of choice landed on the back of your neck. You whirled around to see Steve’s hand covered in the powder. “That’s it!” you hollered. “All bets are off now.”

Flour flew through the air, landing on every surface of the kitchen and turning it white, much like your clothes, skin, and hair. You could hear laughter and curses as projectiles hit their targets, and the more you threw, the worse the cloud of white became until you could barely see where you were aiming.

“Uncle! Uncle–oh my god,” Steve coughed, and through the haze, you saw him bent double and panting for breath. He was as white as a sheet, and his eyes, the ocean blue you had fallen for, popped in the contrast of the flour that caked his face.

Bucky huffed and landed one final hit to finish off – right on top of Steve’s head. “Serves you right, fucker,” he said.

You panted and looked around the kitchen as the clouds of white settled. It was a mess – flour covered every surface, and the cake that you had put so much thought into sat abandoned on the counter with far too much flour to be worth saving.

“We made a right mess,” you sighed. “Look at it, and the cake can’t be saved.”

“Wasn’t my idea,” Bucky petulantly stated, crossing his arms. The action made another cascade of flour fall to the floor. “You two started it.”

“Did not,” Steve grumbled, frowning at Bucky. “Bastard.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk!”

“Boys!” They both looked at you, brows furrowed. “Let’s get cleaned up and then we can clean the kitchen, okay? We have a cake to bake, and this time, actually bake.”

“We look like ghosts,” Steve said suddenly, and he pointed at Bucky and you. “Look.”

“Oh my god, we do!” you giggled, while Bucky stared, unimpressed, between the two of you. “Fine. Come on.”

They followed you to the bathroom, and after over an hour of cleaning the flour from one another’s hair, you ventured back into the kitchen, hands on your hips. Bucky grumbled and pouted while he wiped down counters, and Steve huffed while he vacuumed and mopped the floor.

By the end of the afternoon, you stood proudly between the two men as you looked at the final product of all of the combined hard work – a triple layered cake, covered in white icing with small orange pumpkins decorating the bottom ring. Cutouts of purple bats and black cats covered the top. “It’s so pretty,” you whispered.

“We did good,” Bucky replied, kissing Steve and then you on the cheek. “But I think I know how to make it better.”

“How?”

“We eat it.”

Steve sighed and shook his head. “You’re impossible, babe.”

“What?” Bucky asked, looking at Steve. You turned and put your hands on Bucky’s chest, forcing him to walk backwards and away from the cake. He put his arms out with his palms up in a shrug, and he dug his heels in. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“After all I went through to make the damn thing?” you asked, arching a brow at him, and you pushed harder, making him stumble. “You won’t touch a single dollop of icing.”

Bucky sighed and hung his head. “Fine, whatever.”

“Drama queen!” Steve called from the kitchen, and Bucky flipped him off while you shook your head.

“You both are,” you said with an air of finality. “And I love you both for it.”

“We love you, too,” they both said at the same time, and then they devolved into an argument over who loved you more.

“No, punk–that’s a fuckin’ lie-”

“How would you know; all you love is her fucking baking.”

“I do! And the rest of her!”

You sighed and stared at the cake behind Steve’s back, happy that you had at least maintained the new tradition – not without causing havoc, but you would choose to have that flour fight as part of it, ‘till the end of time.

↠ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ↞

#b&n signal boost

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springdandelixn · 6 months

Text

That's the Way Love Grows

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Beefy!Plant dad!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 1,687

Summary: You and Bucky have your first official date this weekend but he can't wait to see you so he shows up at your apartment on his bike...a dream come true.

Author's Note: Missed him so I wanted to write a little something with plant!dad Bucky again! Hope you all enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰 You can see the shirt he is wearing HERE.

This is part of my plant!dad Bucky AU. It can be read alone but here are the first two stories for him:

Rooted in Love

Love in Bloom

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff and plant talk

‘Hey doll face. What are you doin’ right now?’

The moment you see his name your whole face lights up just like the screen of your phone.

‘Just being lazy.’ You reply and send him silly emoji’s to go along with your text.

‘Well….’

The next message comes through and you wait, staring at the text bubbles for what feels like an eternity.

‘I’m outside your building.’

You drop your phone and run to the window, pushing the curtain aside and looking through the glass.

He’s leaning against his motorcycle, long legs crossed over the ankle and his leather jacket pulled tightly around his biceps.

His fingers twinkle with a wave.

You open the window.

“You wanna go for a ride?” he yells up.

You stare at him for a beat, trying to sear the image into your brain and then answer back with, “yeah I do!”

You don’t even have to think twice about it.

He whoops and throws a fist in the air.

“Make sure you wear jeans and a jacket doll.”

A few minutes later you appear at the double doors of your apartment building. Bucky rushes over and pulls one open, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees you.

“You look gorgeous.”

Your thank you is lost when he steps into your space and drags you into his chest, kissing you hard and fast.

“Sorry,” he murmurs when he pulls away.

“For what,” you whisper, leaning into him.

You toy with the zipper of his leather jacket and then slowly pull it down, spreading the sides open to look at his shirt.

“I had to see if you had another funny plant shirt on,” you giggle.

You smooth your hands over his chest, mostly just so you can feel the hard muscle beneath, but also so you can read the print on the fabric better.

“Things I do in my spare time…” you start. “Water plants,” and you press your finger to the first picture of a potted plant on his shirt. “Repot plants, propagate plants, buy plants, rearrange plants…” Each time you read it’s with a press of your finger and as you get closer to his abs he starts to laugh.

“I’m kinda ticklish,” he admits.

You pay him no mind and take extra care to wiggle your finger over the last picture and it’s text.

“Talk with plants,” you finish with a smile. “That one is my favorite.”

He smirks and slides his arm across your shoulders, walking you toward his bike.

“Speaking of plants…” he hums. “There’s something I…”

As you get closer to the motorcycle you press a hand to his chest to stop him.

“Wait.”

Your words make him swallow hard.

“Our date isn’t until Saturday,” you say quietly. “Are we still on…or?”

His brows draw together and he crushes you against him. “Doll…”

He kisses you again, slow and sweet this time but it steals your breath just the same.

“I know we have our date this weekend, but the moment I left your apartment the other day, all I wanted was to see you again. I couldn’t wait any more. So I thought we could go for a ride.”

His confession makes you melt further into him.

“Ok,” you breathe out. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

He takes your hand and pulls you the rest of the way to his bike, holding up a finger as he turns to his saddle bag and opens it.

“I have something for you,” he says.

He takes out a small bag and reaches inside it. When his hand reemerges he’s holding a small potted plant.

Your smile grows as he begins to explain what it is.

“It’s from my jasmine plant. I repotted this piece in one of the cat planters I got from Etsy…thought you would like it.”

He starts to look slightly shy, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as his eyes fall to the plant.

“Bucky,” you squeal. “It’s amazing! And so cute! I love him!”

“Phew,” he laughs. “And don’t worry I can help you take care of him.”

“Ok good, because I know jasmine smells beautiful and I’d love to have one in my apartment.”

With one more quick kiss he places the plant back in the secure bag.

“Should I bring him up?” you ask. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I always carry my smaller plants on my bike. As long as you position and secure them right, it’s fine.”

With a lopsided grin he kisses your cheek then grabs his helmet.

Lifting it up he carefully places it on your head and buckles the chin strap.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he answers. “I won’t go too fast.”

With that he grabs the zipper of your jacket and pulls it up to your chin then throws one leg over his bike with an easy swing.

He holds his hand out to help you on the back and you immediately wrap your arms around his chest and press yourself into his back.

“Hang on,” he says, “and if anything is wrong just give me two squeezes.”

You nod into the soft leather of his jacket and hang on tight.

He revs the engine and pulls away from the curb, being mindful about his speed and remembering that you’re putting full trust in him to keep you safe.

He’s in complete control and the ride is smooth as he traverses the curves of the streets until the Brooklyn Bridge lights up the night sky as it comes into view.

The smell of salty air hits your face as you get nearer to the ocean and when he slows down and rolls into a darkened spot under the bridge you can hear the water break against the rocks.

He shuts the engine and plants his feet on either side of the bike and then reaches down to tap your leg, signaling you to get off.

With careful movements you put one foot on the ground and do an awkward hop to get your other leg up and over the seat without hitting him in the back.

You manage not to hit him but your legs are slightly wobbly, still vibrating from the ride and your knee buckles.

“Eeeek,” you screech, the sound echoing under the bridge and causing some hidden pigeons to squawk and flap away to a safer spot.

Your fists grab handfuls of air but Bucky somehow manages to dive and catch you around the waist with his metal arm.

“You okay?” he asks, his grip tight.

He waits, staring at you with concern in his eyes.

“I’m good,” you say on an exhale.

He relaxes slightly and releases you to adjust the handlebars and put down the kickstand. Once the bike is secured he gets off gracefully and helps you out of his helmet.

You look around and smile. “This is an amazing spot.”

“Isn’t it,” he echoes. “Just lemme get a blanket.”

He opens the saddle bag and sifts through it.

“Can you please check if my plant is ok?” you ask, smiling sweetly when he winks at you.

“Just fine doll,” he tells you after he shines his phone light into the bag. “Now come ‘ere.”

He takes your hand and leads you over to a clearing closer to edge of the water.

“Careful here, watch your step.”

He assures your footing with a firm hand at your back and once you’re settled on the blanket he follows and makes himself comfortable.

“Thank you for comin’ with me tonight doll.”

“Thank you for asking me. It’s beautiful here.”

You look out over the water, the city lights shining like diamonds across the vast blackness and dancing along the small waves.

“Yeah it really is,” he murmurs.

You can feel his eyes on you and realize that he’s complimenting you instead of the stellar view.

A small laugh bubbles up in your chest. “Have you used that move before?”

He drops his chin to his chest and chuckles. “Aw man. I haven’t but it’s that bad huh?”

You run your fingers along a strand of hair that’s fallen in front of his face before tucking it behind his ear.

“Not bad at all. In fact I think you’re really sweet.”

His eyes bore into yours. “I think you’re perfect.”

His hand reaches out to trace your lips, the pad of his thumb rough against their softness and once he’s relished in their flawlessness he slides his hand along your jaw to cup the back of your neck.

The small space between you disappears and you press your lips to his. Your hands weave into his hair and you gasp out his name, the sound igniting him. His tongue slips past your lips but he takes his time, teasing and nipping even as he tastes you.

He pulls you closer, sliding you into his lap and smoothing his free hand up your back.

The shock of bright lights shines through your closed eyelids and you jump in surprise, breaking the kiss. You lay your hand over your squinting eyes as Bucky looks over his shoulder, hissing at the brightness.

The car stops for a moment, the headlights boring into your small hidden space, and then thankfully it turns back to the street and drives off, returning you once again to the quiet of the night and the sounds of the ocean.

Bucky turns back to you, your eyes meeting.

“Hey,” he whispers as he traces the curve of your jaw.

“Hi,” you answer before peppering his scruffy cheek with kisses.

When your gaze finds his again he asks, “will you watch the sunrise with me?”

You nod and then wrap your arms around his neck, snuggling against his shoulder and breathing him in. A breeze blows over the water, carrying the chill of night and you shiver in his arms. He tucks you closer and grabs the blanket to wrap it around you both.

“I promise I’ll keep you warm,” he whispers as his head dips and he brushes his lips to yours.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @kmc1989 @lizette50 @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814

#b&n signal boost

756 notes · View notes

springdandelixn · 6 months

Text

hallowe’en fun with your werewolf knight

pairing: werewolf knight!steve rogers x princess!female reader

summary: you're certain that captain steve rogers, the knight assigned to protect you, is the man for you, but he's intent on keeping you safe from anything that might cause you harm—including himself.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), teratophilia/monsterfucking, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, knotting, fingering (f receiving), breeding kink, primal kink, chasing, size kink/size difference, dirty talk, praise kink, some CNC-ish vibes, BDSM themes, slight come inflation, talk of mating, pet names (princess, mate), aftercare, angst with a happy ending—let me know if i missed something!!

word count: 11.7k

a/n: i've never written a werewolf fic so i thought it'd be a fun challenge to write one for halloween this year! i don't think i've read many werewolf fics so uhhh i hope this is good!! of course it wouldn't be me without a lot of feels, so get ready for infuriating and sweet and feral werewolf steve!!! i just love him so much!!! anyway i hope y'all enjoy!!!

also, as promised, i managed to work this post into this fic for @biteofcherry and @eralen. you're both the best kind of menaces ♡

halloween fics masterlist

Captain Steve Rogers stood at the edge of the ballroom, his eyes drawn to you as you whirled around the marble floor, looking radiant in your gown for the All Hallow’s Eve ball. As it always did when he was forced to watch you allow another man to put his hands on you, Steve’s heart thumped possessively, the wolf hiding beneath his skin growling with the urge to stake his claim on his mate. Curling his hands into fists at his side, Steve held back the beast.

Using every ounce of his control over himself and his feral other half, Steve pushed his shoulders back further, standing up straighter, holding himself still and firm. He became a watchful sentinel, his eyes never leaving you as you danced to the music played by the orchestra. It was the only way to keep his wild side in check. Once he knew the wolf wouldn’t make an appearance, he pushed that word—mate—aside in his mind, reminding himself to focus on his duty: protecting you, the princess of his kingdom, from any and all threats. Including himself.

When the king had assigned Steve to be your personal guard, it had been in spite of his protests. But Steve was a war hero, having fought valiantly in the battles against the werewolves from the kingdom to the north. He’d only been forced to return when he’d suffered a bite from one of the hideous creatures. The king and Steve’s fellow soldiers had worked to keep Steve’s transformation a secret and the king had made a public show of rewarding him for his efforts in the war by making Steve the princess’s personal protector.

But Steve knew, deep down, that the threat he needed to protect you from the most was himself. It had only been a handful of years since he’d returned from the front, and he was too keenly aware of the beast hiding just beneath the surface, only Steve’s stubborn self-restraint holding the wolf at bay.

And yet, Steve had known since the moment he’d locked eyes on you, the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, that you were his mate. His wolf had howled in celebration, but Steve had locked his jaw and refused to accept it as truth. Since then, he’d watched you, protected you, and suffered through all the teasing and torment you’d thrown his way. Because even though you weren’t a werewolf yourself, you seemed to somehow know you were meant for him, and the more Steve refused to act on his instincts and claim you, the more you seemed to torment him.

Steve’s attention was pulled from his thoughts as the song came to an end, the music trailing off beneath the din of the ball. The king and queen had gone all out for the party, inviting royalty from countries near and far to take part in the Hallowe’en revelry. But despite all the beautiful men and women filling the hall, Steve’s eyes were only for you and he watched as you bowed to your dance partner, then began snaking through the crowd, headed right in his direction.

Pushing his shoulders back even further, Steve prepared himself for whatever you had in store for him. He knew from the spark in your eye, the way they were open wide and hopeful, that you were about to ask something of him he wouldn’t want to give. But Steve also knew he was powerless to your whims, not only because you were the princess, but because you were his mate and even if he refused to claim you, he would still give you anything you asked of him. Except himself.

-~-~-

“Dance with me?” you asked, peering up into the stony face of your personal guard, Captain Steve Rogers. As your body always did when you looked at the handsome knight, it reacted to the smooth cut of his jaw, the soft pink of his lips and his sharp crystal blue eyes. Your heart pitter-pattered in your chest and a riotous fluttering began in your belly. You squeezed your hands together behind your back to hide the way they were trembling.

Not from fear, of course, but excitement. There was something about the knight that made it impossible for you to think of anything other than what it would feel like for him to take you into your arms, to profess his feelings for you and claim you as his wife. Being in his presence only provoked such fantasies and you found you had a hard time when Steve seemed so impervious to such silly things as feelings like excitement and desire. So you liked to push him a bit—poke and prod at his stony facade to see if it’d crack.

For a long moment, Steve didn’t move, and you’d have wondered if he heard you if not for the way his eyes had flicked to yours when you’d come to stand in front of him. But finally, he relaxed minutely and held his hand out to you, palm up. “Of course, princess,” he murmured deferentially.

Slipping your hand into Steve’s warm, calloused palm, you ducked your head to hide the huge grin that spread across your face. You felt like you were floating on air as the knight led you back onto the dance floor, your heart racing wildly when Steve swept you into his arms with all the skill of the most practiced prince. The two of you easily fell into the rhythm of the waltz, smoothly joining the other revelers on the dance floor.

Your hand felt small and dainty in Steve’s massive palm, but he held you with such care that it made you want to throw yourself into his arms all the more. Instead, you enjoyed the way his arms held you and guided you around the dance floor.

Steve was so much taller than you that your eyes were level with his impossibly broad chest, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the way the knight filled out his all-black regalia, the medals he’d earned in the war pinned over his heart.

You wondered, not for the first time, if the whispers you’d heard about the inscrutable knight were true, if he’d really been bitten by a werewolf and turned into one of them. The thought, though it should have filled you with fear, only piqued your curiosity. You wondered if Steve had always had an imposing stature, or if that was the werewolf in him, and, as you continued pondering, your thoughts strayed to speculating about what the knight looked like beneath his livery.

“Are you enjoying your evening, princess?” Steve asked in his low, deep tenor, keeping his voice quiet and his tone admirably even. It was a polite question and when you glanced up at the knight, you found he had his gaze on anything but you. Instead, his sharp eyes were peering around the room, as if he was trying to give off the impression he was looking for threats, despite there being nothing to worry about in the ballroom.

It rankled you, the way Steve was studiously avoiding looking at you. When you’d been dancing with the princes from visiting countries, you could feel his gaze on you, the warmth of it sliding down your neck and settling deep in your core, making sure your skin was covered in goosebumps. But now that you were in his arms, Steve acted as if you were little more than his duty, just his princess to protect.

“I’m having a wonderful time, I suppose,” you responded, adopting the same polite, detached tone Steve had used. When he tensed beneath your hands, you nearly smirked but bit it back at the last moment—your knight knew all too well you were going to say something to provoke him and you loved that he knew that. “Though I could do without all the wandering hands of some of these princes,” you went on, staring at Steve’s shoulder and ignoring the way his jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth. “You’d think they’d never touched a woman before with how eager they were to cop a feel of me.”

You watched with nothing short of delighted glee as fury washed over Steve’s face, his eyes darkening and his brow lowering in a glare as his gaze darted around the room, no doubt pinpointing the exact location of every prince you’d danced with that night. He looked like he was making a list of men he intended to kill. At the same time, his hands on your body gripped you tighter, his hand at your back pressing you closer than was strictly appropriate for a waltz. A possessive rumble started in his chest and you knew from the fact that you heard it that Steve’s self-control had wavered, if not snapped entirely.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at the glory of Steve Rogers—he looked the picture of a fearsome knight and it did things to you to see him get so violently furious on your behalf. You told yourself it wasn’t merely protectiveness that had set Steve off, but possessiveness. You wanted Steve to be rankled by the idea of the foreign princes copping a feel of you because you wanted Steve to admit—finally—that you were his.

If your ladies maids knew how far you liked to push and provoke Steve, they’d gasp in horror. They knew, just like you did, the rumors that swirled around the castle about Captain Steve Rogers—how he’d left a young man to fight in the war against the werewolves and come back a man who was no longer just a man. You knew everyone from the servants to the visiting dignitaries whispered about whether the knight charged with the princess’s protection was worthy of the duty because of the violent nature of werewolves.

But unlike everyone else, you’d never shied away from Steve. You didn’t understand why your ladies maids gave him such a wide berth, and you certainly couldn’t fathom why anyone would believe Steve incapable of protecting you. If anything, you believed Steve being a werewolf would only make him a more ferocious protector. You’d never felt anything but safe around the knight and you longed for him to recognize you were meant to be his and take you as his wife.

Of course, you’d never discussed the pull you felt toward Steve with anyone, let alone the man himself. But you were certain he felt it, too. You could feel it in the way he watched you from afar, and the careful way he acted when he was close to you. He refused to acknowledge it, though, and you were forced to poke and prod at him to get any kind of reaction out of him. You knew it was a little childish, but your thrill at seeing him glower around the ballroom after your comment was worth a little immaturity.

“Are you alright, Steve?” you asked in your polite princess tone when he didn’t respond. His blue eyes darted to you and you gave him your best innocent smile. “You look a little flushed.” You knew your smile must’ve taken on a mischievous edge by the way Steve’s gaze narrowed on you, but he refused to rise to the bait.

Instead, Steve smoothed over his expression, pushing his shoulders back and resuming his role as the gentleman knight. “Thank you, princess, but I’m fine,” he said, annoyance clear in his clipped tone, though you suspected only some of it was directed at you. “Just wondering whose hands I need to chop off,” he muttered to himself, so low you knew you weren’t meant to overhear, but you paid such close attention to the knight you couldn’t miss it.

Biting your lip against a giggle, you shot him a curious look. “What was that, Steve?” you asked innocently. “You know it’s impolite to mutter—especially around a princess.” You tossed your head in a haughty gesture, chin held high liked you’d been taught since you were young. A laugh bubbled up in your chest, but you held it at bay.

When you looked back at Steve’s face, you found his eyes were darkened with something intent like hunger, his gaze fixed on the smooth column of your throat after your movement had bared it to him. Your stomach swooped fiercely, a tender heat settling between your thighs and you nearly tripped over your feet. Only Steve’s confident hold prevented you from a misstep, his large body leading you gracefully around the dance floor.

“My apologies, princess,” Steve murmured, seeming to remember himself and shaking his head to clear it of whatever thoughts he’d been having. You mourned their loss. “I simply wanted to know if I should speak to any of these princes who touched you inappropriately.” He captured your gaze with his own unwavering stare, and you nearly got lost in the beautiful blue of his eyes, the color reminding you of the lake where your family vacationed in the summer.

The low rumble of Steve’s voice sent a shiver down your spine and it took you a moment to collect your thoughts enough to respond. “That won’t be necessary, Steve,” you said a little breathlessly. You were so enraptured by Steve’s handsome face and his piercing stare that it took you a moment to notice the dance was coming to an end.

Steve brought you to a gentle stop, stepping back slightly and bowing his head in acquiescence. “As the princess wishes,” he murmured deferentially. His hands dropped from your body, clenching at his sides, and you felt bereft without them. Steve stepped back again and you followed after him, noticing the look of anguish that flitted across his face. “I should get back to my post, princess,” he said quietly. You heard desperation in his tone, like he was pleading with you to let him escape, but you couldn’t—not yet.

“Just one more dance?” you asked in your own pleading tone. “Please, Steve.” You reached for him, the truth tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else.” You stared up at the knight with wide eyes, your expression open and genuine so he knew your words were honest.

However, the truth only made Steve grit his teeth, the muscle in his jaw popping while he looked away. “That’s precisely why I shouldn’t dance with you,” he said, his voice taking on a harsh tenor that made you wilt with disappointment. Steve’s expression hardened with resolve. “You should ask the American prince for a dance,” he said, smoothing his hands down the front of his doublet though there were no wrinkles in sight. “He’s a good man, honorable.” Steve’s voice was gruff, detached.

“I don’t want to dance with the American prince,” you hissed. Your eyes found the man, Sam Wilson, in the crowd. He was handsome, you had to admit, and you knew he’d never try to cop a feel of you without your consent, but the main problem was he wasn’t Steve. You returned your gaze to the infuriating knight. “I want to dance with you.”

Another waltz had begun and dancers were moving around you and the stubborn knight while you both stood in the middle of the ballroom glaring at each other but trying to hide that from everyone else. You should’ve cared about the slight scene you were causing—you were the princess, after all—but you only cared about having another dance with Steve. You wanted more time with him.

After a moment of staring up into Steve’s beautiful, handsome face, your anger drained out of you. “Please, Steve,” you begged, your voice cracking with emotion. “Just one more dance.” A dance paled in comparison to what you truly wanted—for Steve to give up his noble self-sacrificing distance from you and admit you were meant to be together—but in that moment, if it was all you’d get, you’d settle for it.

Steve’s stony expression cracked open for a split second, exquisite agony showing through before he was able to wipe the emotion away. With a small sigh, Steve gathered you up in his arms and began sweeping you around the dance floor, his jaw tight and his eyes distant despite the firm grip he had on your back and hand. You barely had a moment to enjoy the feeling of being back in Steve’s arms before he was ruining it again.

“You’re going to have to marry one of these royals one day, princess,” he said in a low, gruff tone. His eyes were fixed over your shoulder and you weren’t sure if he was looking at any one of the princes in particular or if he was imagining this prophesied marriage.

You, of course, knew what was expected of you. Your mother and father, the king and queen, had told you since you were young that while they hoped you’d be able to marry for love, your ultimate duty was to the country you ruled and if you didn’t choose a partner wisely, they’d choose for you. In fact, the Hallowe’en ball was a not-so-subtle reminder of their warnings, since you were getting well into your years of marrying age and had not yet chosen someone to wed. It was why they’d invited so many royals from other countries.

You knew your parents, and most of the country, expected you to marry another prince to secure an alliance, but your eyes were already set on a certain werewolf knight, and you simply wouldn’t settle for less when it came to your life partner. Which is how you found yourself muttering, “Not if I have anything to say about it,” after an altogether not princess-like snort.

A beleaguered sigh gusted from Steve and if you weren’t so cross at him for bringing up the possibility of you marrying someone else, you’d have laughed at how put-upon he sounded. “If not the American prince,” he went on, pretending as though he hadn’t heard your muttered comment. “There’s the Sokovian prince—Pietro—you could do worse, princess.”

Another snort escaped you and you tilted your face up to glare at Steve. “I could do better,” you snapped, giving him your fiercest, most pointed look. The back of your neck heated with embarrassment, knowing you’d come as close as you ever had to admitting your feelings for Steve, but you refused to back down. If he was forcing you to confront the reality that you were still unwed, then you’d force him to face the fact that it was his fault. He was the one standing in the way of your happiness, not you.

Steve’s eyes darkened with the fury of a thunderstorm, and you thought again of your ladies maids and how’d they’d have cowered under the glare of the werewolf knight. But you weren’t intimidated and, to prove it to him, you simply raised your chin, looking down your nose at Steve—which was a feat considering how much taller than you he was. His eyes only narrowed further.

“You cannot be insinuating that I am a better choice of husband, princess,” he growled, biting out the honorific as if it were the gravest insult. You could hear the words he left unsaid, with Steve all but confirming the rumors about him, that he had, in fact, been turned into a werewolf.

“I’m not insinuating anything, captain,” you spit out, matching his tone. Knowing for certain Steve was a werewolf changed nothing for you. “I’m outright saying you are a better match for me than any of these other royals.”

Steve’s jaw worked like he was chewing on rocks. He’d been grinding his teeth so much through the evening, you thought he might pulverize them to dust. The thought nearly made you laugh, but you were still too annoyed with him to do anything but glare. His blue gaze flicked away from you, fixing somewhere over your shoulder again.

“I am your guard, your knight, and I will protect you from everything that might endanger you,” Steve said, trying to affect a calm and polite tone, but failing because there was an edge to his voice. He paused, and you heard the words that went unsaid—Steve would protect you from himself, because he believed he was a danger to you. Before you could protest, he glanced at you, his gaze going hard. “But I will never be your husband, princess.”

Despair threatened to overwhelm you, to rise up and sweep you away in its current, but you let it pass you by. Your werewolf knight was a stubborn ass, but you were more stubborn, and you refused to accept Steve’s blatant rejection. In fact, you realized, he’d told you exactly what was holding him back from making you his—he was afraid of hurting you. His protectiveness, however misplaced, warmed your heart and told you there was still hope for your shared future happiness.

Steve swept you around the ballroom as the waltz continued and you mulled over what he said. You knew you didn’t have much time before the song was over, so you decided on a direct approach to addressing Steve’s fears.

“You won’t hurt me, you know,” you said softly, gazing up at Steve’s handsome face. You had an excellent view of the way his jaw ticked with frustration at your words, but when his blue eyes dropped to yours, there wasn’t any annoyance in them, only anguish. It hurt you to see Steve look at you like that, and you wanted to take him into your arms and murmur it into his ear until you believed you, but you’d settle for telling him the truth. “I’ve only ever felt safe with you, Steve.”

“Princess,” he growled, the word a warning.

“I’ll have you as my husband or no one else,” you vowed in a fierce whisper, pressing your face closer to Steve’s and staring him in the eye so he knew you meant what you said.

Steve’s eyes flashed. “Your father would never allow it,” Steve said stonily.

“He will when I tell him you’re the only one I’ll ever give any heirs to,” you snapped.

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest and his hands flexed, holding you tighter in his arms. “You would give me heirs, princess?” Steve asked in a low, dangerous voice. “Even after you’ve heard the rumors about me?”

“Nothing would make me trust you any less with my safety, Captain Rogers,” you murmured fiercely. “So, yes, I would give you heirs—I would marry you and call you my husband and raise the next ruler of this kingdom with you.”

A look of longing so deep it made your heart ache flitted across Steve’s face and you had to bite back a triumphant smile. You were certain you nearly had Steve convinced, but then the clouds beyond the towering windows of the ballroom parted and the full moon shone on Steve.

He visibly flinched, and you watched as he retreated from you, squaring his shoulders and locking his jaw. He managed to put more space between your bodies where you’d drifted closer together during your dance. You knew Steve well enough to know he was working hard to keep himself under control, but you still mourned the way he hid himself away from you. More than any of his rejections, it broke your heart. He should know you could handle him even at his worst, but he refused to trust you.

For another few moments, you danced with your werewolf knight while trying to come up with a way of coaxing him back out of his thoughts, to wipe away his fear of endangering you, but the song came to an end too soon. Steve extricated himself from you gently and bowed deeply over your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles.

“Thank you for the dance, princess,” he murmured in an even tone as he stood, his eyes fixed on something over your shoulder. “I must take my leave for the rest of the evening,” he said and you felt your heart shatter even more, knowing he was fleeing the ball because he worried about putting you in danger. You didn’t know exactly how the full moon affected a werewolf, only that it made it harder to control the beast. “Ser Barnes will be your personal guard for the rest of the ball.”

For the first time in a long few minutes, Steve’s eyes met yours and you sucked in a sharp breath at the swirling emotions within their blue depths. There was the anguish you’d seen earlier, and regret, like he hated to leave you but knew it must be done. You also saw a deep, yawning hunger, one that you suspected came from both your knight and the wolf within him. It was so intense, it sent a ripple of heat curling through your body, settling heavily at the juncture of your thighs.

More than ever, you wanted to throw propriety to the wind and launch yourself into Steve’s arms and refuse to let go until he’d admitted he wanted you as much as you wanted him. But then Steve’s gaze slid away from yours and he nodded to someone over your shoulder. His eyes were calm by the time he looked at you again.

“Let Ser Barnes know if any other princes behave inappropriately and he’ll have them dealt with,” Steve said, his tone sounding more like a command than anything else. All you could do was nod and then Steve was giving you one last, lingering look before turning on his heel and heading off the dance floor.

You wanted to chase after him, but before you could take one step in the direction of his retreating back, Ser James Barnes slid in front of you and whisked you into the next dance. He was just as skilled of a dancer as Steve, and you wondered distractedly if they’d been taught together, but your eyes still stared into the crowd where Steve disappeared, your emotions swirling in your heart and your gut, making it difficult to think.

“Having a good night, princess?” Bucky’s question dragged you out of the dark pit where your thoughts had sunk and you looked up at Steve’s oldest friend. His blue eyes were so near in shade to Steve’s that it only reminded you of the way your knight had left you, how he’d continually rejected you. One look at your face and the bright smile on Bucky’s face dimmed. “He’s a stubborn punk, princess,” Bucky murmured, keeping his voice down.

Shaking your head, you instinctively jumped to defend Steve. “He just doesn’t trust himself,” you said a little sharply. But it took far more than a light scolding from a princess to ruffle the feathers of a man like Bucky Barnes, so he only smiled and nodded his head in agreement.

“He wouldn’t want to put someone as treasured as you in danger,” Bucky said, still keeping his voice low. Going a step further, he ducked his head and held his mouth close to your ear. “Good thing you and I both know you’re far more stubborn than he is.”

Bucky’s words had sparked an idea in your mind. If Steve was worried about putting you in danger, that him being with you would always be a dangerous situation, then you’d simply have to show him the reality was the opposite—you were never safer than when you were with your werewolf knight. Even on a full moon.

A plan began to take form in your head and when Bucky stood up straight, shooting you a charming grin, you met it with a mischievous smile of your own. “You know, you’re right, Ser Barnes,” you said, affecting your most royal tone as you stared up into Steve’s friend’s face, the corners of your mouth curling even more as you thought of what you planned to do. “And I think you’re just the knight I need to help me remind Captain Rogers exactly how stubborn I can be.”

The song slowly came to an end and Bucky cut a severe bow, nearly bending in half over your hand in an exaggerated show of fealty. “Just tell me what to do, princess,” Bucky murmured as he stood again.

When your eyes met his, you were certain that he saw the look of determination on your face and he grinned in response. But you weren’t just endeavoring to prove Steve wrong. You didn’t only want to show him that the two of you could be together without him fearing for your safety. You were also hoping to have a little Hallowe’en fun with the werewolf knight.

-~-~-

Steve Rogers was cursing himself for letting you nearly convince him he could have everything he wanted. He’d been lured in by your sweet words and the even sweeter look of desire in your eyes, but the full moon had appeared and reminded Steve that no matter how much he liked to believe he could control himself, he was no longer simply a man. He was a beast, and you’d never be safe around him. Of that, he was certain. It didn’t matter how much he wished he could believe you that you felt safe in his presence, he knew the opposite was true.

The sound of his dress shoes on the stone floor echoed as he descended into the bowels of the castle, intent on locking himself within one of the cells in the dungeon, where he’d ride out the full moon and its effects on him. The moon called to the wolf within, who howled to be set free, but Steve would delay the transformation until the very last second. He had to make sure he was secure and alone, so he’d pose no threat to anyone, least of all you. It was his only comfort, knowing that there would be many layers of stone and iron between him and you when the beast was finally set free.

But then another set of echoing steps reached his ears, the sound of two feet clattering down the circular stone staircase behind him and Steve paused, recognizing the panic in the other person’s hurry. Eventually, Bucky came into view and Steve stiffened, knowing immediately that something was wrong—nothing else would’ve seen his oldest friend separated from the princess. Bucky’s first words confirmed Steve’s fears.

“The princess—she’s gone,” Bucky huffed as he tried to catch his breath, doubling over for a moment.

With those four words, Steve’s world was upended, sending him reeling while his wolf’s growl rang in his head. It took a long moment for Steve to wrest control away from the wolf, who wanted to be set loose in order to track down the location of his mate. Steve pushed that word aside and looked at Bucky, his voice sounding like gravel as he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Where was she last seen?” he demanded, holding himself back from ripping off the head of his oldest friend and right-hand. Distantly, he could barely believe Bucky had lost you. He was more than capable of keeping an eye on you, and thwarting any attempts by you to escape his protection. But Steve couldn’t think about it too long, he knew his entire focus needed to be on finding you—especially if you’d been taken. Steve could barely stomach the thought because he knew if you had been taken by someone, he would undoubtedly let the wolf loose on them. It’d be what they deserved for touching what was his.

Bucky stared at Steve warily, but answered his friend’s question. “She was spotted near the forest,” he said, jumping out of the way when Steve began to storm up the stairs. Behind his friend’s back, Bucky hid a self-satisfied grin. “I’ve sent a team to look for her.”

“I can find her faster,” Steve growled, tossing the words over his shoulder before he broke into a sprint, taking the steps three at a time and leaving his friend behind. Steve’s heart beat steady and sure in his chest as he ran faster than humanly possible through the corridors of the castle, his wolf hovering just beneath his skin, itching to be set free and give chase.

A part of Steve—the part of him that had been changed when he’d been turned into a werewolf—delighted in the thrill of the hunt. He was no longer a man, but a predator, and you were his prey. Steve knew he should be worried about what he’d do when he found you, because his wolf was nearer to the surface than ever and he’d want to claim his mate. But until he found you and assured himself you were safe, Steve couldn’t worry about that, he could only focus on finding you.

He knew, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, that you were his mate, and he’d hunt you wherever you went, whether you’d been taken or you’d run. And god help the both of you, but Steve didn’t know if he could control himself when he finally caught you. He, of course, didn’t know that that’s exactly what you were counting on.

-~-~-

A wild grin was spread across your face as you ran through the forest, the skirts of your ballgown clutched in your hands, a laugh rising in your chest. You easily darted through the dense woods, the light from the full moon filtering silvery blue through the spindly branches. You knew the forest around the castle like the back of your hand, having played in the woods since you were little, so you knew exactly where you were going and you knew Steve would be the only one who could find you.

Not only were most of the guards unfamiliar with the forest, but you suspected that Steve’s wolf attributes would be closer to the surface. Plus, you were counting on him being far more motivated to find you, especially since you’d had Bucky tell the other guards you were just playing a little game of hide-and-seek.

It hadn’t taken long to tell Bucky your plan, and the man had been on board from the start, even offering to be the one to tell Steve you were gone. You’d worried that Steve wouldn’t believe Bucky had lost you, but Bucky had assured you Steve would be too consumed by his need to find you to think too much about how you’d escaped. From there, you’d slipped out of the ballroom, hiked up your skirts and began running toward the tree line before diving into the forest.

It was an unseasonably warm October night, but goosebumps rose along your bare arms and excited chills raced down your spine as you dashed through the forest. Not long after you’d entered the forest, you heard a distant crashing through the underbrush and knew that Steve had given chase. You wondered if was following your sent or the sounds of your slippered feet and you grinned wildly as you heard him getting closer even above the pounding of your heart and the loud gasps of your breath.

You knew that your ladies maids would think you mad for provoking the werewolf knight into hunting you through the forest, but you’d tried everything you could think to show Steve that you were safe with him. The problem was his control over himself. He hid himself away behind it, used it as an excuse for why you’d never be safe around him, so you needed to force him to set his wolf free and show him what you already knew—that the wolf would never harm you.

In a moonlit clearing blanketed by the fallen leaves of the forest, you came to a stop and spun on your heel just in time to watch Steve barrel through the trees behind you, coming to an abrupt halt when he spotted you. He was breathing hard, his broad chest heaving beneath the fine silk of his doublet, and his blue eyes shone in the moonlight as they pinned you with a fierce stare. His gaze raked down your body and found you unharmed, prowling closer as he looked around the clearing and found you were alone.

“What’s the meaning of this, princess?” he growled out, his tone sharp and soaked in frustration. His eyes returned to yours as he came to a stop halfway across the clearing, far out of reach of your arms, though you were certain he could lunge across the space and capture you with ease.

Not intimidated by the dangerous tone of Steve’s voice, you simply gave him a wide, innocent smile. “You forced my hand, captain,” you answered sunnily, tossing your head and raising your chin in defiance.

Steve opened his mouth as if to respond, but Bucky crashed into the clearing just then, skidding to a halt and looking between you and the werewolf knight with a look of feigned innocence. “Seems you found the princess, captain,” Bucky said in a cheery tone that almost made you snicker.

Flicking an annoyed look to his friend, Steve’s gaze returned to you quickly, like he was afraid to let you out of his sight for too long. “Take the princess back to the castle, Barnes, and lock her in her rooms if you have to,” Steve growled, turning his back to you like he was going to walk away from you. Again.

Your face settled into a determined glare while you clutched your skirts, shifting on the balls of your feet as you prepared to set off running again. You weren’t sure if it was the rustle of your dress, your intake of breath or some shifting in the air your senses were too dull to notice, but Steve froze, his back going rigid with tension.

“Don’t,” he barked, spinning around to pin you in place with a glare. “Don’t run, princess,” he bit out, anguish and despair battling against the fury and frustration in his expression. “If you run, the wolf will give chase.”

For a moment, you hesitated. You knew what you were putting Steve through could have been considered cruel. All he wanted was to control himself and protect you and you were deliberately putting yourself in a situation where he’d lose control. But then you remembered how many nights you’d fallen asleep alone, with Steve standing guard on the other side of your door—so close and yet too far away. Steve had forced your hand, and what you were about to do was his fault for not trusting you were safe with him.

Looking to Bucky, you met the other man’s eye and gave him a nod of thanks for getting Steve into the forest, but you both knew you’d have to do the rest on your own. “Call off the search, Ser Barnes,” you ordered in your most polite princess tone. “Tell them the captain will ensure my safe return.”

“Yes, princess,” Bucky murmured, sketching a bow before turning to go. Steve’s hand reached out and grabbed his friend’s arm, his mouth opening like he was about to command Bucky not to leave. But Bucky gave his best friend a hard glare and some kind of understanding passed between the two men. Steve’s hand dropped back to his side and Bucky disappeared into the trees.

A long moment passed with Steve refusing to look at you, but finally his shining blue eyes found yours. “Princess, think about this,” Steve implored, his voice rough as the bark on a tree. His expression was gentled with his pleading, but there was a fierceness in his gaze that called to you. “You don’t know what the wolf will do to you once it’s set free,” he went on. “It—I—could hurt you.”

For a brief second, you considered giving up your plan. You could see how it was hurting Steve to think that he might harm you, but then you shook your head, knowing your way was the only way. Otherwise, you’d both be condemned to a life lacking the love you deserved. Steve may have been content with that, but you weren’t.

“You won’t believe me when I say you won’t hurt me, Steve,” you said sadly, letting him hear the regret in your voice. You knew things could’ve been easier if he hadn’t been so stubborn. But that was who he was, and though you loved him all the same, you refused to let his fear prevent you both from finding happiness together. “So I have to show you.”

With that, you turned and sprinted off into the trees. You weren’t being careful about where you placed your feet and relied on your knowledge of the forest to help you run safely. Within no time, your heart pounded against your ribs and your breaths sawed in and out of your throat, but you refused to make the chase easy for Steve.

A terrifying howl rose from the clearing behind you and you heard the sound of rending fabric. Then, there was the crashing of a massive beast hurtling through the forest, and when you dared to look back, you caught a glimpse of Steve through the trees. His shoulders had broadened and his chest has grown, having split through his livery from the waist up. His biceps bulged, darker blond hair dusting over his pecs, and claws glinted in the moonlight at the tips of his fingers.

You turned back around and ran as hard as you could, ducking under low-hanging branches and leaping over logs, your skirts hiked up around your thighs so they wouldn’t get caught in anything. Still, the underbrush tore at them and you knew it was slowing you down. Not that you ever stood a chance of actually outrunning the werewolf knight.

Mere minutes after Steve had hurtled after you into the woods, he tackled you to the ground, breaking your fall by rolling you beneath him in the soft underbrush. At first, he pinned you on your belly to the forest floor, every inch of his massive body pressed to your back, the bulge of his cock shoved against your ass through the layers of your gown.

Acting on instinct, you clawed at the ground and wriggled beneath Steve’s broad chest, which only worked to incite the werewolf more. His hand wrapped around your hip, claws digging into your belly through your dress before he used his grip to flip you onto your back. Steve’s hips settled between your thighs, spreading you as wide as your skirts would allow, his hardness pressing to your slit and making you toss your head back with a moan.

You were drenched beneath your undergarments, your pussy soaking wet with your arousal, and the feel of Steve’s body caging you in beneath him only made your mind go fuzzy with desire. It didn’t help that’s Steve’s hands seemed to be everywhere, his groping palms raking over your waist and hips, his claws slowly shredding through the layers of fabric your body was swathed in. And still, it wasn’t enough. You knew then that it wouldn’t be enough until you were filled by him.

“Steve, please,” you begged, your own hands greedy in your exploration of Steve’s chest, palms sliding over his firm muscles, fingertips playing in the hair that coated his pecs. You knew your knight well enough to know that his body was bigger than it had been when you’d been dancing in the ballroom, and the knowledge that he was somewhere in the middle of his transformation sent a ferocious heat spreading through your veins as you grew even slicker for him. “Please!”

“Is this what you want, princess?” Steve snarled, his hips pressing between your thighs until you could feel the full length of his cock, the weight of him hot and heavy against your dripping slit. “You’ve set the wolf free and now my thirst won’t be slaked until your tight little cunt is squeezing my knot while I bury my seed in your royal womb.”

Your mind spun from Steve’s filthy words but they only made the heat beneath your skin burn hotter. A desperate, needy little whine slipped past your lips and you opened your eyes wide to give Steve a pleading look. “Yes—yes, I want that, I want you inside me, filling me up,” you whimpered, struggling against the confines of your dress to wrap your legs around Steve’s narrow waist, settling on grinding your hungry cunt up against the hardness of his cock. “Please, Steve!”

A ferocious growl ripped free from Steve’s chest, his hands grabbing your hips hard, his claws digging into your ass, the sharp points driving you to grind harder against him. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, princess,” he snapped, leaning down and pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes as he struggled to control himself. Even with you pinned beneath his big body, he was still fighting his instincts. “You don’t know if you can take it.”

You let out a little huff of frustration. “I can take it, Steve,” you insisted, fingernails digging into his back as you clung to him, your hips rising to meet his grinding thrusts. “I can handle your wolf, captain—in fact, I want it.”

Freeing your head from where it had been pinned to the ground by Steve’s forehead to yours, you brushed your lips against the shell of his ear, drawing a dangerous growl from the depths of his chest. He smelled like the forest and the moonlight, and something musky beneath it. The smell sent your mind reeling and your pussy gushing even more.

“I want your heart and your devotion, Steve, but I also want your cock and your knot and your seed,” you panted in his ear, pouring your truth into him and hoping he’d finally believe you. “Give it to me—give all of yourself to me, I promise I can take it, Steve, I was made to take it.” Your teeth nipped at the skin of Steve’s neck, giving him the littlest bite to spur him on and it seemed to snap the last thread of his control.

“Fine,” he snapped, his voice little more than a growl as he sat back on his haunches. Using his claws, Steve ripped your beautiful ballgown to shreds, splitting it down the middle until the tatters fluttered down beside your bare body on the forest floor.

Your nipples were tight peaks on the swells of your breasts, which felt heavy with your arousal. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you stared up at Steve, naked hunger on his face as his eyes raked down your body. They settled on the mound between your legs, and the wetness slicking your inner thighs. You wondered if he could see the way your pulse throbbed in your clit, the bundle of nerves crying for his attention.

“Beautiful mate,” Steve said softly, reverently. Your mind snagged on the word he’d called you, something in you responding to how right it felt, but then Steve was dragging the tips of his claws down your chest, teasing your nipples with their sharpened points, and all thoughts fled. “So ready and willing to be fucked by a monster.” Steve’s mouth curled in a self-deprecating grimace.

“Not a monster,” you said fiercely on a gasp, grabbing Steve’s wrist and guiding his claw-tipped hand between your thighs, spreading them wider and pushing his fingers between your drenched folds. “Ready and willing for you, Steve, only you.” You brought your hips up off the ground, spearing yourself on two of Steve’s fingers, riding them as you stared up into his face with heavy-lidded eyes.

Something in Steve’s expression shifted and a grin spread across his face. His skin rippled before your eyes, his whole body shivering even as his gaze stayed fixed on you. His shoulders broadened even further, his muscles growing beneath his skin as dark blond fur sprouted along his arms and back. Steve’s ears sharpened, his face contorting to become more wolfish, though it remained trapped halfway between human and beast. Within you, Steve’s fingers grew and curled, the tips pressing against a soft spot inside you that made you cry out.

“You’re all mine, aren’t you, princess?” he rasped, his voice lower and more gravelly than you’d ever heard it. “Mine to fuck, to breed, to mate.” He didn’t wait for an answer, not that you could give one with the way you were gasping and moaning as his fingers fucked into you roughly, his claws nowhere to be felt as he worked your body open. “Say it, princess, say you belong to me.”

You were so lost in the feeling of his fingers inside you and his possessive words that you didn’t notice the sound of rending fabric, not until a thick, heavy cock smacked against your thigh. You looked down at the thick length, whimpering at the sight of how big he was, the knot at the base of him even wider. But then Steve pressed his fingers against that spot inside you again and your eyes flew to his face. His blue gaze was shining in the moonlight while he stared down at you with a ravenous look.

“I’m yours, Steve,” you cried, remembering his order. It wasn’t difficult to tell Steve that you belonged to him, you’d been yearning to tell him as much for years. The words spilled from you easily. “All of me belongs to you—my body, my heart, my soul are all yours.”

“Fuck,” Steve bit out, pulling his fingers from your slick hole with a wet pop. Then he was pressing the tip of his massive cock against your entrance. “You’re right, princess, you were made to take my cock—so fucking take it.” He pushed the head of his cock into your tight hole and you whined at the stretch of him. He was barely inside you and it felt like he was splitting you open.

“Oh god, Steve, it’s too big,” you cried, your knees instinctively pulling together in front of Steve’s barrel chest in an attempt to stop him. Even as you whined and protested, though, you didn’t want him to stop. But he did. You opened your eyes and found worry and anguish swirling in the depths of Steve’s eyes. “Don’t stop,” you begged on a gasping breath.

Steve bent over you to press a kiss to your cheek. Only then did you realize a few tears had leaked from your eyes at the overwhelming stretch of his cock. “Say ‘Hallowe’en’ if you want me to stop,” he growled in your ear. “And I’ll do my best to stop.” Your cunt clenched down on the little bit of Steve’s cock that was inside you at the thought of him being unable to stop, but you nodded to show him you understood. “Good girl, princess,” he purred, dragging his lips to your mouth and capturing it with a kiss.

Kissing Steve felt more perfect than it should have considering his face was only half-human. But you enjoyed the wideness of his mouth, the strength of his tongue as he licked between your lips, plunging into your depths. You moaned beneath him, your body softening as he kissed you deeply, possessively, taking your mouth as thoroughly as he was going to take your cunt.

After a time, Steve pulled away, leaving you with a lingering kiss before he sat back up on his haunches. He grabbed your thighs and forced them up against your chest, folding you in half beneath him and pinning you there with his brute strength. “You wanted my cock, princess,” he said, a warning in his growly voice. “So you’re going to fucking take it.”

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes as he shoved another inch of his thick werewolf cock into your tight human pussy. No matter how much you whined and whimpered, Steve didn’t stop, he only pressed deeper and deeper inside, chuckling as desperate pleas spilled from your lips.

“Steve, please—fuck—it’s too big,” you forced out between gasping breaths, your cunt only growing slicker as you protested. You knew you could say the word he’d given you at any moment and he’d stop, but you didn’t actually want him to stop. You wanted him to fill you, though that didn’t stop your whining. “You’re stretching my pussy too much.”

Steve leaned down over you, the movement shoving his cock even deeper inside your tight, slick cunt. His eyes were sparkling with a feral kind of hunger, his mouth twisted in a depraved grin. “You’re gonna thank me for stretching you out princess,” he sneered, “especially when it comes time to push my pups out of your little human cunt.”

Eyes rolling back in your head, you moaned long and loud into the night, Steve’s words filling you with a heat and desire like none you’d ever known. “Please, please, Steve,” you begged, his name turning into a whine as he thrust the rest of his thick cock inside you, until his heavy knot rested against your obscenely spread folds.

“Oh fuck, you feel too good, princess,” Steve groaned, his face dropping into the curve of your neck. He pressed wet, suckling kisses to your throat, making you gasp and moan. “I can’t—I can’t hold the wolf at bay,” he murmured desperately, not giving you time to adjust to his size before his hips were rolling, fucking you in short, hard thrusts. “It’s gonna hurt, precious mate.”

“Don’t care,” you mumbled, fingers threading through Steve’s blond hair then stroking down to his shoulders, petting over the soft fur of his body. He was so soft and fluffy, with steel-like muscles beneath and the contrast made you smile, until his hips thrust his cock into you again and you cried out at the exquisite stretch of him. “I want it, I want it—I want you, Steve, all of you.”

“As my princess wishes,” he growled, teeth snapping next to your jaw as he fucked into you harder. His body rippled and shuddered, growing even larger as his fur spread to cover more of his skin. Inside you, his cock grew impossibly large, making your eyes widen as it flared inside you, stretching you beyond what you’d thought was your limit.

A scream tore from your throat at the stinging burn of his cock splitting your cunt open, but never once did it occur to you to say the word he’d given you to make him stop. No, you welcomed the pain and the pleasure all at once, the sensations swirling inside you and driving you nearer to the edge of your bliss with each punishing snap of Steve’s hips.

Though you couldn’t see much of him with the way you were bent in half, his large body pinning you to the soft forest floor, you could feel that the shape of him had changed. He was more wolf-like, and when he leaned up, his face hovering above yours, you could see he looked more beast than human. Even still, you’d never seen anyone more handsome than him, and you smiled dazedly up at your werewolf knight—your mate—while you took everything he could give you.

Your body shuddered with every vicious thrust, mindless babbling sounds spilling from your lips as Steve rutted into your pussy. He had been reduced to little more than a snarling beast, his claws digging into the soft flesh of your hips and leaving shallow scratches behind while he fucked you with his inhuman strength. The mixture of pain and pleasure only made your body tighten around his hard length, gripping him furiously as you held onto his fur and urged him on with your rocking hips.

“Being so good for me, princess,” Steve growled, licking the tears from your cheeks and chasing them with little kisses as he fucked you roughly. “Such a sweet, perfect mate for your wolf.” His chest pressed against yours and you mewled happily when your stiff nipples brushed against the soft fur covering him. “You gonna take my knot, princess? Gonna let me fill your womb with my seed until I breed you full of my pups?”

“Oh god, yes,” you cried, head thrashing side to side as your eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by pleasure. “I want your knot, Steve, please! Give me your pups!”

“So fucking reckless and willing,” he growled in a harsh tone, using his inhuman strength to shove his cock even harder into your pussy, his thick knot slapping against your folds. You were so wet and messy, the sounds were echoing off the trees, but it only drove your pleasure higher. “Take it, princess, take my knot like a good little werewolf mate.” He pressed the bulge against your pussy lips until you whined, but he didn’t stop.

“Too big, too big, too big,” you whimpered, fists clinging to his fur and pulling, not caring if you hurt him—not even thinking it possible. He certainly showed no signs of discomfort as he pushed into you. The word he’d given you to say bounced around in your head but you shoved it aside. You wanted Steve’s knot too fucking badly to even try to put a stop to him.

Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with all his strength, his hips barreling into yours and shoving his full length into your tight cunt, forcing his knot inside after it.

Your scream pierced the calm October night when Steve’s knot buried inside you, splitting you open around his thick girth with a pain sharp enough to punch the air from your lungs. The incandescent ache of his knot stretching you beyond your limit sent you over the edge of your release, pleasure rippling through every vein of your body as your mind was overwhelmed with bliss. Sucking in a breath, you let it loose on another scream, your body trembling beneath Steve, feeling every bit of your bare skin brushing against the soft fur of him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, princess,” Steve growled, his hips jerking, his knot pressing against the sensitive edges of your hole from the inside while your pussy clamped down hard on his full length. “That’s it, come on your mate’s cock—fuck, you feel so good.” His hips were grinding into yours, pushing the tip of his cock against your cervix while his heavy balls pressed against your ass. “Take my seed, precious mate, take it inside your womb and have my pups.”

Steve’s voice was little more than a snarl, sending heat pooling between your thighs, your inner walls still fluttering from your release. Then he snaked a hand between your bodies and pressed down on your lower belly, forcing you to tighten around him further. You could feel him even better, the exquisite girth of him so large inside you, his knot pressed just inside your entrance making you even more sensitive. Your clit brushed against the soft fur at the base of Steve’s cock and it set you off again.

That time, when you screamed, the sound came out broken, your throat too raw, but you barely felt the discomfort as pleasure rocketed through your body. Too overwhelmed with sensation, your vision whited out and for a long moment, you felt like you were floating on clouds.

When your senses came back to you, it was just in time to hear Steve lose himself in his own release with a howl, his hips rutting into yours even though he couldn’t move much for his knot buried in your cunt. The points of his sharpened teeth were dragging along the skin at the base of your neck, none of them breaking skin, just teasing you with their power. It took you a moment to realize Steve was muttering under his breath, his cock twitching inside your pussy as he spilled his seed inside you.

“Gonna get you pregnant, princess,” he mumbled, so quiet you knew he was mostly talking to himself. “Gonna fill you with pups—gonna mate you, mate you, mate you.” He let out a long groan, his words devolving into a chant of only two words, then just one. “Mate, mate, mate.”

“My handsome mate,” you murmured happily, fisting a hand in Steve’s hair and dragging his face up to yours. It was difficult to kiss him in his full werewolf form, but you managed, licking into his mouth until your tongues twined. He growled into the kiss, which only made you smile. You sucked on his tongue, his hips thrusting reflexively and making you both moan as Steve spilled the last drops of his seed deep in your cunt.

“My beautiful, precious mate,” Steve said softly, pressing one last kiss to your lips before he rolled onto his back, taking you with him, leaving your ruined dress behind. Both of you moaned softly as his knot shifted inside you, but you were both too spent for the moment to do anything about it.

You sprawled across the broad expanse of his chest as you both collapsed, sated and happy and, in your case, victorious. You buried a triumphant grin in the thick fur on Steve’s chest, listening to the thumping of his heart as it slowed back to normal. A sharp slap on your ass made you squeal and lift your head to glare at your werewolf knight. His blue eyes shone in the moonlight as he glowered at you.

“I should tan your hide for that stunt you pulled, princess,” Steve growled in his deepened voice, his wolfish face frowning as best he could. His hands held your ass firmly, the tips of his claws digging deliciously into your soft flesh where your curves met your thighs. “What you did was reckless and dangerous—I could have hurt you, or worse, bitten you.”

It took every ounce of your own self-control not to roll your eyes at your mate, but you couldn’t keep the attitude out of your tone as you responded to him. “I knew you weren’t going to hurt me or bite me, captain,” you huffed, annoyed that he was insisting on having this conversation instead of basking in the bliss of your coupling. “I told you, I’m never safer than in your arms.” You caught his eye and smirked. “Besides, you’d never hurt your mate.”

A growl rumbled in Steve’s chest and he kept frowning at you. “You didn’t know we were mates—you couldn’t have known,” he said. It was true, you hadn’t even known for certain that he was a werewolf until that night, let alone that the two of you were mates. But it sparked a thought in you that made sense.

“I knew,” you said, realizing you being Steve’s mate explained the draw you’d felt to him, and the surety that he’d never do anything to hurt you. You looked excitedly at Steve. “I knew somehow, that’s why I knew you’d never hurt me!” Steve didn’t seem as joyous at your revelation, his expression still fixed in a petulant glare. “You’re just angry because I’m right and you wasted so much time being afraid of nothing,” you sassed, pushing yourself up onto your knees so you straddled Steve.

From your vantage point, you finally got your first real look at Steve’s werewolf form—and he was glorious. He lay spread out on the floor of the forest, his dark blond fur limned in silver from the full moon shining overhead. His body was unnaturally large and wolf-shaped, but you could still see a bit of your knight in his face, especially in the glittering of his blue eyes. Rocking your hips, you moaned at the feel of his huge cock rubbing against your sensitive inner walls and when you looked down, you saw your stomach bulging a little, though whether that was from his cock or his come, you couldn’t be sure.

“C’mon, Steve, don’t be mad at me,” you whined, looking to his face with heavy-lidded eyes, puffing up your lips in your sweetest pout. His expression softened, his eyes heating as he watched you work yourself on his cock. You leaned over his chest sliding your hands over his shoulders and then down his arms as you sat back up. Bringing his clawed hands to your belly. “Don’t you wanna fill your mate up with pups? We can’t be certain your seed took, you might need to fill me up a few more times tonight.” A sensual smirk spread across your face, and you laughed when Steve growled hungrily, his claws digging possessively into your soft flesh.

“Once the moon sets, we’re going to have a serious talk about your safety, princess,” Steve rumbled, thrusting his hips up from beneath you, driving his cock impossibly deeper inside you. You pressed your hands down on his stomach and gave him a pout until he settled. “We’re also going to tell the king and queen I’ll be taking you as my wife.”

At that, you smiled cheekily. “Yes, sir, captain,” you purred, unable to stop yourself from sneaking a little bit of sass into your tone. Steve smacked your ass playfully and you giggled. “Now be a good werewolf, and let your princess ride your cock.” Steve’s hands flexed on your ass and another growl rumbled in his chest, but with his knot swelling again and still caught in your pussy, he was easily swayed to follow your command.

You rode Steve to another orgasm, your werewolf howling into the night as he spilled his seed into your womb. When you collapsed on his chest, he petted his hand soothingly down your spine, while you did the same with the fur on his chest. Once his knot had gone down enough for Steve to slide his cock free from your hole, he pulled out, and you were both surprised by how little of his come leaked from you.

Although you thought Steve was done with you then, the hunger in his gaze told you he most certainly wasn’t. He moved quick as lightning, manhandling you onto your hands and knees. Your body was weak, but when you felt the tip of his hardness brush against your thoroughly used pussy, you knew you could take him again.

Steve pushed your face down into the brush on the forest floor and mounted you from behind. Your senses were filled with the smell of the decaying leaves and the musk of Steve’s scent. He took you hard and fast, fucking you like an animal. Your cunt was so used to his cock by that point that it only hurt in the most delicious of ways. Still, you screamed when he shoved his knot back inside you, splitting you open once again and your convulsing pussy milked a third load out of his thick cock as you both came hard.

The night sky was starting to lighten with the oncoming dawn and the full moon had dipped low behind the trees. Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion and when Steve commanded you in his softest rumble to rest, you succumbed to sleep. You woke only briefly when Steve slipped his knot and cock from your aching cunt, and again when he lifted you into his arms to carry you back to the castle.

-~-~-

It was late morning on the day after Hallowe’en when you finally stirred and stretched, blinking sleep from your eyes when you felt strong arms wrapped around your waist. Steve lay on his side, holding you tight to his chest, his face human again, his expression soft with sleep. You rolled to face him, trailing your fingers reverently over the curves and lines of his handsome face.

You were just stroking a fingertip down the bridge of Steve’s nose when a pleased sound rumbled in his chest and his eyes opened slowly. A smile spread across his face and you felt your lips curling in a mirror of his happy expression. “Good morning, handsome mate,” you whispered, enjoying the rightness of the words on your lips.

“Good morning, beautiful mate,” Steve responded, tightening his hold around you and slanting his mouth to yours for a sleepy kiss. You sighed happily as you melted into his arms, content just to kiss him and indulge in the sweet intimacy of the moment.

Thoughts hung at the edge of your mind—you knew there were many things to do now that you’d convinced Steve it was safe for you to be with him. You knew you had a wedding to plan, though first you’d need to tell your parents you’d finally chosen a partner to wed. You were certain they’d be happy for you, but you still felt a little bit nervous about it, since it was such a big announcement and they’d been waiting for so long.

(Your nerves were unfounded of course, because you were right, your parents were happy for you once you told them. Your mother was ecstatic that you’d found someone who doted on you as graciously as Steve, and your father was gratified you’d chosen someone who could protect you and the kingdom as fiercely as Steve.)

But, for the moment, for that morning, you were happy to lay in bed and kiss your mate. It felt just as perfect as you’d always dreamed and though you knew Steve wasn’t done scolding you for what you’d done the night before, you knew it was worth it because it meant you had finally forced him to confront how he felt about you. Now that he’d moved past his stubbornness and you’d shown him he didn’t have to fear for your safety around his wolf, you were looking forward to spending the rest of your life with your love, your husband, your mate.

And you knew what else awaited you with Captain Steve Rogers—a lot of Hallowe’en fun with your werewolf knight.

#b&n signal boost

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springdandelixn · 6 months

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𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing 𖤐 Monster!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count 𖤐 2.5k Warnings 𖤐 Pet names, light angst, fluff Author’s Note 𖤐 For my darling, @vonalyn - you gave me the inspiration for this, and you helped immensely with steering me in the right direction! I hope you enjoy. 💚 Event 𖤐 @rookthorne's Fright Night | Masterlist

Keeper Masterlist

The longing for home, for the traditions you had cultivated as you grew into the young woman that you were today, made you troubled. You were confused for how you had missed such a mundane existence, when you had started anew with the monster that lurked in the shadows. It was just lucky, however, that this monster – the one you loved with all of your heart – was a crafty trickster, and he knew just how to bring you cheer on the Eve of Samhain.

From the bounds of the forest, you observed the village, the one you once called home. Bright, glowing fires lined the way between thatched cottages and stone walls, while people cheered and danced with one another. It was a glorious celebration – priests and their chanting, the calls for the ancestors to join them.

Each chant filled your bones with the yearning to dance, to take part, but the festivities picked and tore at your heart, for they were celebrating the very thing that kept you, and your other half, at bay.

The rituals were performed as a rite of protection, forcing and warding off spirits and creatures with evil in their hearts. Bucky was no such creature – that you knew, he had taken such blessed care of you, but he dared not venture too close to the village again now that you were within his hold.

There would be no way that he would take the risk of being tracked by foolish hunters.

As a result, the both of you were shunned, forced to live the lives of outcasts — nothing more than the dirt under the villager’s worn shoes.

You sighed heavily, crossing your arms across your chest as the chilled air nipped through your clothes. For days, Bucky had been treating the furs of the wolves he had slaughtered, and he was determined to bring you comfort, the warmth you craved.

There was no way he would be able to keep you close for every passing moment of your time together – he had to hunt and provide, protect his territory and chase off otherworldly beasts to keep you safe. And he insisted that the addition of your own furs would help you feel more at home in his lair.

Suddenly, heavy footfalls crunched the twigs and leaves behind you, but you did not startle. “Hello, Bucky.”

“Lamb, my sweet,” he said quietly, and then you heard the thump of him falling to all fours. “What are you doing all the way out here, are you-”

“I’m fine,” you rushed, interrupting him. “I just–” Blinking, you felt a tear run down your cheek and you hastened to wipe it away. “I do not know.”

Bucky hummed. There was a warmth at your back, and then, white ivory appeared in the corner of your vision. You turned your head slightly to see what he was doing, but you let out a small laugh, instead. Bucky had gone on all fours and daintily rested his chin on your shoulder; ever so careful of his antlers.

The amber glow that had once filled Bucky’s eyes had changed into an icy blue – a reflection of his sorrow. “You are… troubled, little lamb.” Carefully, you placed your palm on the divot by his nose, and you brushed your thumb over the smooth bone. Bucky made a low noise in his throat and leaned into the contact. “What is troubling you?”

“Look,” you whispered, pointing towards the bright flames of the village. “They celebrate making us outcasts. I wish they would understand.” People dressed in the skin of animals flashed underneath the light of the fires. “I wish they understood that they were casting out the real protector.”

“I am only the protector of you, my sweet.” There was a huff of breath, like he was sighing out of frustration. You glanced sideways and caught a pensive glint in his light eyes. “I could not care less for what happens to those that inhabit your old home, not after how they treated you–for centuries, might I add.”

“Still,” you insisted. “It is not something that I am hiding, that I miss it. I miss the thatched cottage I grew up in–the memories.” Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eyes. “I speak the truth. Maybe I am just melancholy–aching for the comforts of my old home.”

“The traditions?” Bucky asked quietly.

You nodded and frowned slightly. “Yes.”

Bucky moved his head from your chin, and stood behind you. “I do not see why we cannot make new ones, Lamb.”

“What do you mean?” The breeze was cold as you turned to face Bucky, brow arched in question. “I do not understand-”

“I wish to make our own traditions–create something that you will enjoy for the years to come,” he explained, tilting his head slightly, as though lost in thought. “It would make you happy, would it not?”

A warmth – a kind of contentment, a feeling unlike any other, filled you. It made your heart, once so ladened and heavy with grief and longing, light once again. You smiled, widely, and looked into his eyes. “It would. It really would. When do we begin?”

Bucky’s mouth opened and his tongue ran along his teeth, the telltale sign of him grinning made your heart soar even higher. “Why not now? We can look for what we need, there will be plenty of things to use amongst the forest floor.” He moved over towards a thick grove of trees. “And I will use my teeth and claws to sharpen whatever you may need.”

“You are awfully excited,” you teased, following him carefully. The forest floor was still unventured territory for you, and you would rather avoid tripping and falling if you could help it.

“And you are sad, my little one. I cannot have that, nor allow it,” Bucky said easily, turning around to lead the way. “Now, come. We have branches to find.”

The venture proved to be more enjoyable than you had expected. You merely had to point at the branches on a dead tree, or to the larger ones that lay strewn over the forest floor, and Bucky would pick them up and place them carefully on his antlers, carrying them the whole way. It was only when both his antlers and arms were full did he turn to you, almost exasperated. “Lamb, I think we have enough.”

You grinned and shook your head, pointing to one of the largest branches with your free hand – the small amount of bounty in your hands heavy. “I want that one, and then we can go back–back home to your lair.”

The fur on the back of Bucky’s neck raised a little at your words, and a shiver went down his spine. “Fine,” he said, huffing. “This is the last one. But I will never tire of hearing you call my lair home.”

“I bet you won’t,” you mumbled. Bucky just growled warningly as you skipped away.

Upon arriving back to Bucky’s lair, you tipped the small bundle of branches in your arms onto the floor, just next to the crackling fire that he kept well stocked for you. “I think… Why don’t I make us chimes? Or, maybe, what about some catchers?”

Bucky walked into his lair, dragging the largest branch behind him. He tipped his head down into the far corner to rid his antlers of his bounty. “You make whatever your heart desires.” A solid thump sounded next to you, and you looked over at him – he was laying on the earth of his lair, looking up at you.

The teeth on the sides of his elongated face shone with spit, and you watched, transfixed, as Bucky ran his tongue over his front fangs. “Would you stop that?” you asked, indignant.

“Whatever do you mean?” he hummed, but he stopped all the same, and he eyed the larger branches. “Would you like me to–?”

“Yes, please,” you affirmed, glancing over at them. “That would be very helpful.” Bucky rose again and got to work, sharpening the branches into points with his claws and teeth.

For hours, you sat by the fire and whittled a couple of catchers while Bucky finished working on all of the larger branches. It was a companionable, comfortable silence between the two of you.

“Lamb, sweet,” Bucky said quietly, and you looked up from your lap towards him, to find he was already staring at you. “When I was young, I shed like any buck would. Since I was a beast that was hunted, I kept what I lost–lugging it around with me so no hunter could track me.”

You tilted your head, curious at where Bucky was taking this story.

“And, over the aeons–the centuries, I have amassed quite a collection of old antlers and fangs,” he gestured to the impressive extensions, the few of many weapons at his disposal. “Would you–I mean, if you would want it, I can give you these parts of me to interweave with your creations. They would still have magic after all these years; they would add layers of protection.”

“Oh, Bucky,” you gasped, hand over your heart. The implication of interweaving parts of your other half would no doubt bear an unrivalled amount of protection.

“It will also make me happy if I were to see what you have created out there, parts of you and parts of me interlocked in something of beauty.” He looked down and flexed his hands; his claws shone like refined obsidian with the firelight. “Something you could be proud of–and part of.”

You rose from your spot by the fire and walked over to Bucky, eyes soft and kind. Without an inkling of hesitation, you took the sides of Bucky’s face in your hands, mindful of his teeth, and tilted his head up so you could stare into his eyes. “I would not love anything more.”

“Lamb,” he breathed, and his hand ever so gently cupped yours, the claws kissing your skin. “Oh, how I adore you.”

“It is nothing compared to how much I adore you,” you replied. Tilting his head down a little, you bent and placed a soft kiss between his eyes.

The moon set beyond the horizon a few hours later. Bucky had encouraged you to work away at your creations until you had a round dozen, and he pledged to walk you through the forest, offering to help place the grounds of protection that you had created for your home.

It was a brisk morning and you shuddered as you followed right behind Bucky, careful to stay on the path he was creating with his bulk through the brushes and thickets of brambles. “We are not far now,” he said quietly.

You huffed and looked at his antlers, where the last two chimes hung, ready to be placed. “I should make you some for your antlers,” you mused aloud.

Bucky looked at you sharply and rolled his eyes. “I draw the line there, Lamb. I need them free so I can protect you; protect us. There is also no way that I would risk destroying something you have made for me.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “Still, I am going to.”

There was silence after your proclamation, and you smirked, victorious – you knew he would give in.

“We are here,” Bucky said abruptly, and you ran into his back with a grunt of surprise. “Where would you like it, sweet?”

You looked around, adjusting the shawl over your shoulders for warmth. “How about,” you wondered aloud, looking at the tall pines surrounding you. There was a patch of space between a set of two pines, and a bare branch stuck out at an odd angle – if it were placed there, it would glint in the sun at midday. “Up there! It looks safe.”

Bucky followed your gaze and nodded once. “A fine choice, Lamb.” He stretched up a hand to his antlers and plucked the chime that had his fangs woven into the fibres, before he placed it carefully on the branch. The momentum made the chimes clink and shimmer in the stream of sunlight that suddenly appeared. “It is beautiful. Now, for the last one.”

The two of you set off once more, this time towards a clearing in the distance. Sounds and whispers echoed around you, the harsh sounds making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, and you placed a hand on Bucky’s fur to ground yourself. “You are safe, sweet. I swear,” he murmured, slowing his pace. “It is just the forest spirits, it is Samhain–they are more mischievous than any other, you know they must investigate any being that passes.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, still resting a hand on Bucky’s fur. “I trust you.”

Bucky’s hand brushed over your hair and down your back, a slight purr emanating from his chest. “Why don’t we find the last spot and then head home? You will need to sleep soon, Lamb.”

You nodded and looked around. The trees of this clearing seemed to be teeming with life, an unknown type of magic tinged the air, as well. A pine to your left bore the same qualities as the last, and for some reason, that singular tree felt more friendly. “Why not up there?”

“I like it, sweets–come,” Bucky said quietly, and you followed him, of only a little hesitantly. “I would like you to place it. What do you think?”

“Me? How, I am on-” A gasp of shock interrupted your protest and your feet left the air.

“I will help you, little one,” Bucky whispered, and he moved you through the air with such care you barely even felt the wind on your face. “Place it where you wish.”

With the utmost sense of caution, you carefully placed the twine over the branch of the tree, and it shuddered. You almost gasped with fear when a small face peered out from behind the foliage – a forest pixie. “Oh, my goodness,” you whispered. “I am so sorry-”

“Edna,” Bucky said suddenly, looking over your shoulder. “Hello, my friend.”

The miniscule creature spoke, but there were no words, only small huffs and puffs of breath, followed by tiny squeaks.

“How kind, thank you,” Bucky said softly, lowering you down gently to your feet. “We will leave you be. It was wonderful to see you again.”

Bucky urged you on, his hand never leaving your back as he walked a little ahead of you. “Who was that–what was that? And what did they say?”

“That was Edna–a forest guardian, a small but mighty creature. You never want to find yourself on the bad side of one of them,” he explained. The trail back home was familiar to you in parts, so Bucky slacked to walk on all fours. “She was saying to me that your chime was beautiful, and she adored it–very happy to have it as part of her tree.”

“Her tree?” you questioned. “Is that why that one felt–I mean, looked friendlier?”

Bucky nodded and looked at you. “Yes, and she has promised to return the favour. We may have guests soon.”

You blinked. “Oh, boy.”

“Do not worry,” Bucky teased, and he gently bumped your shoulder with his. “I will help you. You will become a natural–the language is not hard, Lamb. I promise.”

“If you say so,” you murmured. The sense of excitement for meeting a new creature, a possible friend, lit a fire within you – it was quite lonely in the woods, though you loved Bucky’s company, but a friend would never be amiss. Not if they loved your chimes, you decided.

And, with that, you resolved to spend your time perfecting your craft – as well as making Bucky fetch more branches. Just to spite the devil, you laughed inwardly.

who loves the idea of lil' forest friends? 🥹

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#b&n signal boost

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