#Marvel Drabble Challenge

[marvelstoriesepic]

I Would Let the World Burn

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Non-superhero!Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You attend a public Avengers event as Bucky’s girlfriend for the first time, but things spiral from nerves to chaos in a matter of seconds. And when you’re caught in the crossfire, Bucky unleashes.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: violence; injury; PTSD elements; emotional distress; explosions; mass panic; allusions to death; protective!Bucky; nobody hurts his girl; seriously, he’s a little feral here

Author’s Note: I need protective Bucky all day and all night omg. Thank you so much, my love, for this absolutely amazing request!! I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

The lights are everywhere.

Glinting off skyscraper windows and camera lenses, bouncing off metallic armor and too-white smiles.

The voices are everywhere. They swarm like bees - the press, the fans, the murmuring of people watching people.

The flash of the cameras is a strobe light stinging the back of your eyes. Reporters shout questions like bullets, flinging them past your ears and into your chest.

You feel your lungs shrinking in your ribcage as if they’ve decided you’ve seen enough. Felt enough. Been too much.

You’re not supposed to be here.

Not in this crowd, not in this dress, not in front of a hundred reporters and their glittering cameras. Not in the spotlight. Not on the arm of the Bucky Barnes.

You tug at the hem of your dress, fingers nervous, breath catching on a sigh you don’t release. Everyone here looks like they belong - as if they were born to walk red carpets and sip sparkling drinks under light that only blinds you. You feel like an ink smudge on a page of golden script.

It’s the first time you’re out in the public with him. The first time the press will capture who’s been speculated to be the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend.

Bucky spent the night whispering reassurances into your skin, but it seems you should have listened to his words rather than the feeling of his plump lips all over your body.

Your hand is in his, and his thumb traces slow circles against you, metal fingers warm from your skin. His other hand rests lightly on your back. He hasn’t let go of you once.

You look up at him.

And he’s already looking at you.

He looks perfect, tailored, controlled, dangerous in a way that makes people stare too long and then look away even faster.

His hair is swept back tonight, save for one defiant strand that keeps falling across his brow. You keep watching that strand as if it’s a lifeline. Like if you can count how many times it falls, maybe your nerves will shut the hell up.

You know he feels how tense you are.

He frowns, and it’s so soft it nearly breaks your heart. That Bucky Barnes can frown like that. As if you just told him you were fading into dust.

“Hey,” Bucky coos, voice soft, voice low, the world dissolving for a second into nothing but him and you. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You try to nod. But you can’t lie to him. Words jam in your throat, caught somewhere between the beat of your heart and the reality of who he is and who you are not.

“I just-” you manage, but it’s a little shaky, you look around. “I feel out of place.”

Bucky tilts his head, brow still furrowed tightly. “Why?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. Try to explain how it feels to be ordinary in a sea of extraordinary. How it feels to be his, but not one of them. How terrifying it is to not have armor, or training, or anything more than love for a man who could kill with his pinky finger and kindness in his eyes just for you.

Bucky steps in close, crowding the noise out with the breadth of his body, his warmth, the familiarity of his scent - cedar and cold and something quietly him. His nose brushes yours, and it’s stupid how it grounds you.

“I’d rather be anywhere else,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “I’d rather be nowhere. Just me and you. On a rooftop. Under the sheets. In the woods. I don’t care. Just not here. No noise. No cameras. No Stark in a tuxedo with a martini making bad decisions.”

You laugh, and it trembles out of you.

His smile is all softness and secret promises. His eyes are glinting. “But if I have to be here - then I'm glad it’s with you.”

The way he says it - quiet, low, as if it’s something he only ever told the wind - freezes everything inside you and sets it on fire all at once.

You blink, and the fear stutters. Collapses a little. Because it’s not you and the Avengers. It’s you and Bucky.

His lips graze your ear, then your temple, taking his time. He’s not bothered at all by the cameras flashing around you, capturing this moment, capturing the Winter Soldier going soft on his girlfriend.

You want to fall into him. You want to crawl into his chest and live there.

You let out a breath. It’s just beginning to feel okay. The world quiets just for a second.

Then it explodes.

There’s a metallic whine, a rumble like thunder swallowed by stone. The ground jerks beneath your feet as though it’s trying to shake you off. Screams tear through the air. A plume of smoke mushrooms in the sky as fire roars from the far end of the pavilion. People scatter. Glass shatters. Concrete buckles.

You don’t even have time to be shocked when Bucky already reacts.

He pushes you behind him so fast your teeth snap together. He doesn’t look back. His body shields yours, metal arm braced outward, flesh hand pressing you into his back, eyes scanning for threats.

Another explosion cracks through the sky, rips through the atmosphere like an angry god. And right after, the next explosion follows, punched through the sky like a fist made of fire.

You cough, eyes watering. There’s debris. Someone’s car door skitters across the ground like a dead insect. Tony’s suit whirs to life across the square. Natasha’s already sprinting. Sam is in the air.

Bucky is moving, dragging you behind a line of armored cars, his body is coiled with tension, his expression is deadly serious.

“Stay here!” he orders. It’s his soldier voice. Cold steel and no argument. He’s never used this voice on you before.

“Bucky-”

“Y/n, stay down,” he barks sharply, and you nearly flinch. But his tone is not filled with anger. It’s filled with fear. “Do not move until I come back for you.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might break your ribs. Your head is shaking from side to side so fast, you can’t do anything. “No- Bucky-”

He cups your face, his hands stiff, his hold almost rough. He leans in. “Stay. Here,” he growls. “I can’t do this if I’m worried about you.”

His eyes tell you he already is. He will be. But he doesn’t tell you.

He waits for you to nod, although he doesn’t have the time. An almost aggressive kiss is pressed to your mouth, then to your forehead, and he is gone. Thrown into chaos, lost in the smoke and fury and shouts.

You barely register the space he leaves behind. The smoke moves like a creature through the crowd, making people disappear wholly. Somewhere nearby, there’s another explosion. The screams rise again, louder.

You crouch lower, press yourself against the cold steel of the car, try to breathe through the hammer in your chest. You want to do what he said. You try to do what he said.

But the panic moves toward you.

You don’t see where it starts. Just feel it. A shove. A push. Someone collides with your hiding place, someone is behind you and suddenly you’re on the ground. White-hot pain at your side. You fall hard enough to see stars. A sharp ache slices down your shoulder where debris must have caught you. Blood runs hot and slick beneath your dress.

Disoriented, you try to push up on trembling arms but they shake too much, and everything is spinning.

You don’t see the soldier until you turn your head and there’s a flash of metal in his hand. A knife.

“Y/n!”

It’s your name. It’s Bucky’s voice. It’s not a shout. It’s a roar. As if it was ripped out of his chest. As if he’s afraid of what he’ll find when he gets to you.

From fifty yards away, across smoke and bodies and fire, he sees the blood blooming on your sleeve. Sees your fingers twitch as you try to sit up. Sees the man with the knife coming too close.

And he is barreling through the smoke like something unholy, eyes wild, teeth clenched, hands balled to fists. The light behind his eyes just snaps.

He moves as though he’s been set free. No hesitation. No fear. No softness left in him. His face is stone, is fury, is death, is Winter Soldier. His arm gleams under the flames, a ghost of his past resurrected in defense of his present.

Bucky hits the guy with bone-crushing force, enough to send teeth skittering across pavement. A scream echoes once before it’s cut off. Another blow. Another. Fist to face. Elbow to jaw. A crunch that sounds like death and rage all rolled into one. His vibranium hand wraps around the man’s throat, and you swear you see something flash in his eyes - something ancient and broken - before Bucky picks him up and slams him against a crumbling wall. Again. And again.

It’s not strategy. It’s not mercy. It’s pure rage.

Somewhere, Steve yells his name like a warning.

Bucky doesn’t stop.

“Bucky-” you croak, blood warm down your arm. You try to sit up.

In an instant, he turns back to you, easing up on his brutal hold and the soldier crumples to the ground. Bucky’s whole body is tight with adrenaline, his breath sawing in and out as though he ran through a warzone - which he kind of did. For you. His eyes find yours and shatter.

He’s at your side in half a breath.

“Baby,” he whispers, hands on your face, on your shoulder, trembling now. “No, no, no. You weren’t supposed to be- I told you to stay-”

“I tried,” you defend weakly, dizzy. “I didn’t- I’m okay. I think. Just- grazed me, maybe-”

But he’s not hearing you. Not through the panic tearing holes in his composure. His hands flutter, unsure where to land without hurting you more. His voice drops, gravelly and hushed. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Shit, I should’ve known-”

“Hey.” You grab his wrists. “Bucky.”

He stills, but he won’t meet your eyes. Your thumb brushes the inside of his wrist. “I’m okay.”

But he’s too far in his head.

He wraps you in his arms in seconds, cradles you as if you’re made of moonlight and scripture, as if you’re hallowed and half-broken and held together by threads only he can see.

His metal hand supports your back, curved protectively around your spine. His other hand is pressing your legs into his chest.

The darkening sky is still full of smoke and sirens.

Colors smear across the sky like blood in water. Reds and blues. Shouting and static. Flashing lights and fractured ground. Somewhere nearby, someone is screaming. Somewhere farther, something explodes.

But not for him anymore. He doesn’t seem to hear anything. Doesn’t seem to listen to anything other than your breathing, your pulse.

He walks fast, but carefully. Erratic feet cut through rubble, his jaw is locked so hard, his body so rigid, he surely is in pain from holding all that tension. His eyes are storm-dark and unblinking. No one stops him. Not Steve. Not Tony. Not even the medics who see the look on his face and take a cautious step back as though maybe the devil borrowed his bones tonight.

He never trusted any random medic to look you over. It has to be someone he knows.

You whisper his name.

Soft. Breathless. Almost an apology.

And he almost drops to his knees.

“I’ve got you,” he rasps, hoarse and urgent. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You know you are. But he doesn’t.

Your fingers curl in the collar of his suit jacket. His real name - James - lives on your tongue but never quite makes it out because he’s holding you too close, and perhaps saying his name might crush him completely.

He smells like smoke and ash and steel and blood. Your temple is tucked against the curve of his neck, where his pulse thunders beneath the surface. He’s warm and shaking.

He bursts into the quinjet that brought you here like a man on fire, like a man trying to outpace grief, and he yells something sharp. He lays you down - reluctantly, tenderly, surrendering - onto a stretcher, but his hands don’t stop touching you.

He’s a storm with a purpose, and that purpose is you.

You, safe.

You, whole.

You, alive.

“Bucky,” you try to ease, blinking up at him, face pale under flickering emergency lights. “I told you, baby. It’s not that bad.” Your voice is soft. Slow.

“You were on the ground.” His voice cracks.

“I was on the ground for like two seconds-”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It stopped, baby. Okay? There’s no fresh blood.” You are close to whispering.

Bucky doesn’t seem eased, though. He sits beside you. Big body bent in half, elbows on knees, one trembling hand reaching to gently - so, so gently - brush your hair from your forehead.

And then he says it.

“I would’ve burned the whole goddamn city to get to you.” Quiet. Like a vow. Like a confession. Like faith. Like a truth, he doesn’t know how to carry anymore. “I would’ve torn down buildings with my bare hands if I didn’t see your breathing. I don’t care who saw. I don’t care what they think-” his voice breaks, his breaths spill all over his words. “I can’t be okay without you.”

You stare up at him. Your throat is tight, eyes are stinging. Because he doesn’t say things like that. Not often. Not out loud. You see it in his eyes every day, in the way he looks at you, in the way he treats you. But it’s something else entirely to hear him form those words and let his tongue roll them out.

He presses his forehead to yours. His breath ghosts over your lips. His eyes are closed. His hand cups the back of your head.

He’s holding you so close to him, as if he’s never intending to let go ever again.

[tarithenurse]

Baby it's cold outside

Fandom: MCU AU. Pairing/starring: DARK!Bucky x fem!reader. Word count: 80. Content: Coming DUBCON/NONCON implied, coercion, drinking, Bucky not taking a no for an answer. A/N: Trying to write max 100 words is an addictive challenge which @justagirlinafandomworld has provided with the addition of “Baby It's Cold Outside by Idina Menzel & Michael Buble” (a gorgeous rendition here – but this song always pisses me off so things got DARK).

Baby, it's cold outside

He’d chosen the music specifically for this, mirroring the way she shies away even as he leans in closer, offering her the strong drink.

It’s for her own safety, why can’t she see it? Outside, it’s a veritable blizzard – that he hadn’t planned, though, it was just pure luck.

Their fingers graze each other as she reluctantly takes the drink fro him. She’s cold. Shivering.

He’ll warm her soon enough, though. He’ll show her it’s better to listen to him.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Lost

A/N: My entry for the Six sentence Sunday challenge. Hope y’all like it!

Emotion used: Lost

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Six Sentence Sunday

.

His ever erratic heartbeat wouldn’t calm, not when his chaotic, racing mind convinced those turmoiled, brown eyes that he wouldn’t find what he was so desperately searching for.

The house was eerily silent minus for his uneven breaths and soft sighs, missing the melodic laughs you had once brought in, shared sounds of pleasure that once echoed through the walls, or the defeated cries of pain that were indicative of the fights.

Your calming yet delightful presence that grounded him, loving gaze and tender caresses that brought peace to his disturbed soul, pillowy soft lips that soothed his worn out skin, all of which left a physical ache inside of him post your disappearance.

“Why am I still alive, FRIDAY?”

If his AI ever had a conscience, it would tell him to wake up and do the right thing, not lose himself in the self-destructive whirlpool of sleepless nights and abusive doses of coffee and alcohol he was currently in.

Tony Stark was a man lost without you.

[lifeinacartoon]

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Here we go! 5/25:

“Clint,” Natasha said, voice dripping with exasperation, “why is there a candy cane hanging upside down next to a glittery star and a reindeer missing one leg?”

“It’s called balance,” Clint shot back, hands on his hips like he was presenting a masterpiece. “You wouldn’t understand. Artists like me are misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood is one word for it,” she muttered, plucking the unfortunate reindeer off the branch and relocating it. “This is a crime against Christmas trees.”

“Hey! That reindeer has sentimental value,” Clint protested, stepping forward to snatch it back. “Do you know how hard it is to find one-legged ornaments?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I’m sure your extensive collection of tacky decorations will survive.” She gestured to the box of ornaments beside him. “Why don’t you try using more than one branch for all your ‘art’?”

“You know,” he said, pulling out a tangle of lights, “when I invited you to decorate this tree, I thought it’d be fun. Festive. Full of holiday cheer. Instead, I’m getting judged by the Christmas police.”

“Not police,” she corrected, carefully draping a garland across the tree. “More like a Christmas SWAT team. Someone has to save this poor tree from you.”

Clint grinned and threw the string of lights around his neck like a scarf. “Admit it, Romanoff. Deep down, you love my style. It’s got character.”

“If by character, you mean chaos,” she deadpanned, stepping in to fix the lights he had just tossed haphazardly over a branch. “Honestly, Barton, how did you ever survive without me?”

“Pure charm,” he quipped, watching her rearrange his handiwork yet again. “And maybe a little luck.”

She paused, turning to him with an amused smirk. “Must be the luck. Your charm certainly isn’t working.”

Clint laughed, leaning against the wall and watching her transform the tree into something genuinely beautiful. “Merry Christmas, Nat,” he said, softer now.

She glanced at him, her smile softening too. “Merry Christmas, Clint. Now grab another ornament. And try not to mess it up.”

“No promises.”

The fire crackled quietly in the background, the tree glowing warmly in the dim light. Their voices filled the room, soft and teasing, the kind of exchange that only came from years of knowing exactly how far to push.

[lukas-clost]

Drabble May 2025 Masterlist

Okay, okay, so I had no idea what I was going to do for the prompts, lol, but then I thought to myself 'why not explore more of that Underswap-SpiderVerse idea you had,' so that's what I'm gonna be doing for the challenge this month, lol

I made a couple of Canva designs that I'm pretty excited to share, and while I'm exploring some of these ideas, I'd absolutely love to get some feedback on it!

Hopefully I'll also get to exploring the idea beyond the drabble challenge, lol, but without much further ado, welcome to Earth-77063! (click for better quality)

Ao3 link

fff 299: Stranger than Fiction

Day 1: Carriage

Day 2: Faceless

Day 3: Painter

Day 4: Quarter

Day 5: Cold

Day 6: Comedy

Day 7: Lotion

Day 8: Stars

Day 9: Enjoy

Day 10: Serenade

Day 11: Credit

Day 12: Scones

Day 13: Abundance

Day 14: Saccharine

Day 15: Last

Day 16: Ballad

Day 17: Tropical

Day 18: Leaves

Day 19: Pebble

Day 20: Liability

Day 21: Choice

Day 22: Tenacity

Day 23: Workshop

Day 24: Date

Day 25: Immense

Day 26: Narrow

Day 27: Transform

Day 28: Mercy

Day 29: Maelstrom

Day 30: Hat

Day 31: Poppy

[elixirfromthestars]

Hello everyone! 🤍 So my birthday is coming up soon (July 3rd) and it has also been a little over a year since I first posted on this blog. I wanted to find a nice little way to celebrate, so I decided to do a little birthday bingo!! (This was inspired by the 1K follower celebration @espinosaurusrexex hosted 💕 If you haven’t read her stuff you really should!! ❤️)

This birthday bingo consists of a bingo card that is filled with various prompts anyone can choose from and request a little scenario/drabble for any of the characters I write for. You are also welcome to request for an AU I’ve already written for such as Detective!Bucky, Duke!Bucky, or any other one!! 🤍🩵🤍

I know my blog is currently all Bucky, but here is a list of characters I write for: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Matt Murdock, & Peter Parker.

How to Participate:

Choose a prompt from the bingo card that hasn’t been taken yet and send me an ask with the prompt, the character, and any other details + additions you would like to add to the request!

I will keep the bingo card updated to let everyone know when a square is taken. And I will write/post the request in the order that it was submitted.

As soon as a bingo has been completed, the birthday bingo requests will be closed!!

Thank you to everyone who has shown me lots of love and support in my writing. It means so much!! 🥹💗 If you’ve ever Interacted with me or my writing in any way, thank you from the bottom of my heart!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

If this birthday bingo card inspires you to make your own or write something let me know!! Send me a message, tag me, etc. I would love to read and support it!! 🥰

birthday bingo masterlist 🩵

BIRTHDAY BINGO REQUESTS CLOSED 🥳💙

Thank you to everyone that has been sending in requests!! 🤍 I’m so excited to start working on them 🥹✨

[taralaurel]

🎉 100 Fics Celebration! 🎉

I just hit 100 fics on AO3!

(Okay, so, a 102 because I didn't notice at first...🤦‍♀️)

To celebrate, and because I've recently made some amazing fandom friends, I'm going to do something I've never done before!

A 100 word drabble challenge!

Thanks to @chaotictarlos for the suggestion & inspiration!! 💕

Okay, how it works:

Send me a Prompt (while Tarlos has been my current love, this can be 911 LS or OG, Batfam, Marvel, or any other fandom I've written for.)

I reserve the right to say no to a request.

Send me your prompts! Be as vague or as specific as you like!

Please have patience.

Any questions - ask me!

Tagging those who might be interested: @chaotictarlos, @carlos-in-glasses, @sanjuwrites, @lightningboltreader

[be-compromised]

ATTF: 3 Sentence/Drabble Challenge

Hi All,

As requested on the discord, to warm up those writing muscles for the new year please feel free to join us on dreamwidth for a 3 sentence fic / drabble challenge!

How to play:

1) Leave a (short) prompt in a comment on the DW post. You can leave as many prompts as you like, but please put each prompt in a seperate comment. The more prompts the better.

2) To fill prompts, reply to the prompt comment with either a three sentence fic OR a drabble (100 words). Grammar can be suspect, but fills must be exactly THREE sentences long OR 100 WORDS long ONLY! You can reply to as many prompts as you like and prompts can have multiple fills. You can even reply to your own prompts. Or reply to other people's fills. The more writing the better.

3) Some guidance: fills should be Marvel themed, but can include any characters or relationships. Fills must be 3 sentences or 100 words because that's the challenge, but otherwise this is a low-pressure, laid back event. You can leave prompts without posting fills, you can post fills without leaving prompts, and you can absolutely comment and squee all over the place. There's no deadline, except that eventually we'll run out of steam. You don't need a DW account to play, but if not you might want to include a name in your comment so people know who to direct appreciation at.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask a mod in the Questions/General Comments top comment thread on the DW post!

For those wondering what 'ATTF' means in the title - ATTF stands for 'All The Things Friday'. These are posts/events that traditionally kick off on a Friday and last for at least the weekend. They're a focal point for some community engagement, which can range from a writing/creating challenge, to recs, discussion, or anything else fandom related. Each ATTF has some general rules (updated slightly from past events):

Things to remember: 1) As available in more detail in the general community rules, all fic / fanworks must have a rating and warnings OR 'no rating' and 'choose not to warn'.  2) If a comment contains a very long fic or is graphics/images heavy consider posting behind a cut, or posting the full thing elsewhere with a summary and link in the comment instead. 3) Keep this a positive space and have fun!

[aimmyarrowshigh]

11 for peter & aunt may please!

- folk melody

011. Birthday @ AO3

Request a drabble from this list of prompts!

[warlockisaslur]

[ me: i'm gonna write a cute drabble i should probably see what gerry drew's powers are

me, after reading up on his wiki article:

oh. 🥺]

[thedevilsoftruth]

That's what you get.

B. Barnes x f! Reader

Tags: little smutty drabble. Pure, explicit porn. Nothing more than that. Vaginal fingering, edgeplay kiiinda used, Dom! Bucky, Bucky being unfair and kind of mean, spit, praise, dirty talk. The reader is implied to be chubby/plus sized. Not beta read.

Ovulation is hitting me so hard rn, so i decided to take a break from another fic im working on to finish this piece of shit that was in my drafts. Enjoy!

Mdni! I am not responsible for what you find on the internet!

[ My marvel request box is open again. Please see my pinned post for my request rules. ]

You were so hot and bothered. Your face was bright red, your plump thighs clenching around your lovers metal arm as he slowly pumped his fingers into you. In and out, slow and deep. Just like he knew you liked it. It was with you on his lap, too.

It was a bit of a challenge for the both of you, but it worked, and it worked well. You were just so needy and desperate for him in that moment that comfort was the least of your concern. Your little pleased moans were shot directly into his ear. It was like a fucking wet dream to him.

Your hands were gripping the sleeve of his shirt tightly, your hips moving slightly with his hand, your tummy rolling sweetly as you moved against him. His flesh hand was still on your thigh, gripping it while his face scrunched up in pure concentration, putting all his focus into giving you what you needed.

His two middle fingers were stuffed into your dripping core, curling in and out of your warm walls, eliciting sweet, low moans out of you. His mouth stayed next to your ear, kissing your neck softly, grazing your skin with his teeth.

The sweet, loud, lewd, and wet noises of his fingers curling into your pretty cunt echoed off the walls in your room and flooded your mind with filthy images. His fingers would sink further into you, and they'd flick against a certain spot inside of you that would make a soft, squishy little clicking sound each time his fingers moved against it. It made your pussy flutter and caused you and your moans to get shyer.

His eyes would flick up to meet yours, and he'd never take them off even as he increased his pace. Although his left hand was not his dominant hand, he deeply benefitted from not being able to feel pain in it because it meant that he could do this to you from hours without an arm cramp.

He takes your chubby cheeks in his hand and squeezes your face softly. His thumb runs over your puffy, swollen bottom lip, and the pace of his fingers inside you only increases.

" Open up, sweet peach. " He instructs, laying his thumb on your bottom lip, his index finger hooked under your chin. You do as he asks, and you open your mouth and dart your tongue out a bit. He grins and leans in, spitting down on your tongue. You take it in and close your mouth, swallowing it down.

" Good girl, " he praised, brushing his metal thumb against your aching clit softly. You leave out a tiny moan, your thighs instinctively clenching around his arm.

" So, so good for me. " he continues, kissing the spot on your neck he knew you loved the most. You were shaking in his arms. A complete and utter wreck.

" Bucky.. " you moan his name, the words rolling off your tongue perfectly and sending an electrifying shiver straight down to his cock. A smile breaks across his harsh face.

" I know. " His fingers go deeper and faster, making you mewl loudly. " It feels so good, doesn't it pretty girl? "

His flesh hand goes down to your tummy, his eyes drinking in every detail of you as if you were going to disappear from him at any given moment.

" Mm, yes. Yes. " You pant, chanting the word as you throw your head back. Your hips arch into his hand, your thighs shaking around him almost violently. " Want you to stuff me with your cock and fill me up. " You whine, the pace of his fingers getting slower. They pump in and out of you, and even though the pace is slower now, your eyes roll back.

He just can't help but laugh at your desperate pleas. The sound comes from deep within his chest, and it's rich and soothingly sultry.

" Mm. Is that so? " He questions, biting your earlobe. His beard lightly scratches against your skin, his breath hot on you and slightly tickling you. " Maybe I'll be nice and do that for you if you beg me. " He whispers into your ear, striking his fingers into your plush pussy repeatedly, making you cry out.

Your fingers curl into his sleeve even tighter, your hair getting lost in your flushed face as his fingers brush up against your sweet spot. The spot he could find in seconds. A chant of his name leaves your lips, and he can feel himself getting harder for you by the second.

" Bucky, " you whine his name, your sex contracting almost violently around his thick fingers. Your eyes are rolled back, your head falling onto his shoulder limply. It was crazy how the smallest movements could have the biggest impacts in you.

" Please, baby. " You begged weakly, your jaw jittering. " Need your cock so bad. "

He laughs again.

" You are so helpless, " he purrs. His voice is deep and low, yet smooth and clear like a sunny day. " Like a bitch in fucking heat. "

He stops moving his fingers. You move your head from his shoulder, caught off guard. He has this sick, sadistic grin on his face.

" Fuck yourself on my fingers. " He instructs. He wasn't going to let you just get what you wanted within the snap of his fingers. If you wanted something from Bucky Barnes, you were going to have to work for it.

" S'not fair. " You whined, your voice wobbly. He hummed, wiping a line of drool that was coming down your chin.

" Oh baby, " he cooed, his voice dripping with a sarcastic tone that made your knees weak. " Nothing in life is fair. " his head cocked to the side, and he gave your clit a couple of strokes, making your hips jerk in response. That small moment of relief was immediately taken away from you when he took his thumb off of you. He gave you a blank look of tedium, one that you were used to.

" Now go on. I've got all day. "

[marvelstoriesepic]

Your Ghost Knows Me

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: On a mission to dismantle a Hydra base, Bucky’s activation codes are triggered. And what does he do without a kill order?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: mind control; non-consensual behavior (not sexual but bodily autonomy themes); possessive behavior; gun violence (implied, not graphic); threats of violence; emotional manipulation (unintentional); PTSD; trauma responses; forced proximity; mentions of Bucky’s past; Hydra

Author’s Note: I'll never get tired of a possessive Winter Soldier!! Honestly, I should write about him more often. Anyway, this absolutely iconic request is from my sweet dear!! Thank you so much, and I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

There is always something quiet about Bucky when he looks at you before the mission begins. Quiet in the way thunder is quiet just before the crack. As if he is holding something inside himself too loud for the world.

You always say his name and he would look at you like he’s afraid to blink.

You don’t think you’re supposed to notice the way he hovers at your side. You’re not supposed to feel his shadow, stitched to your steps. But you do. You always do. Because Bucky Barnes does not know how to stay subtle. Not with you. Not when he thinks you might not make it out of this alive.

Your mission is to break into an old Hydra base with heat still humming through the walls and ghosts still hanging from the rafters.

The team drops in like rain. Controlled chaos. Clint on the left flank. Sam from above. Steve on the right flank. Nat somewhere in the dark.

You are light-footed and fast and smart and alive. Bucky stays behind you. Always behind you. Watching your six. He never lets you fall.

And you get the proof of this for the thousandth time when he throws his arm out and grabs your vest to yank you back hard enough to make you gasp. Your heart stutters in your throat. You stumble, twist, spin - and crash into him.

There was a tripwire. You almost walked into it. And Bucky saw. He sees everything.

“You okay?” He breathes, voice low, not quite touching worry but brushing the edges of it.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Thanks.”

He nods. Says nothing. Keeps moving.

You press forward into the maze of concrete and metal that is the Hydra base, gun raised, heart playing the drum in your ribs.

Bucky slows.

You glance over at him. “What is it?”

He stares at a rusted door, barely ajar. A soft static pulses from within, like an old radio dying in slow motion. The sound crawls down your spine. Your skin prickles.

“Bucky,” you start, reaching for him. “Let’s move.”

But he’s already walking toward that door with narrowed eyes.

The room is dark. Cold. Frost is on the walls like a memory that won’t let go. A machine in the corner makes low noises. Wires twitch on the floor like veins ripped from a corpse. The air stinks of metal and mildew and something old. Something wrong.

And then it speaks. A voice, thick with static, seeps out of the machine. A voice you don’t understand. Not really. You can’t make out the words, but you know them. You know what they mean.

“Желание. Ржавый.”

You spin around, heart rushing up to your ears, calling his name, but it’s too late.

“Семнадцать. Рассвет.”

Bucky stands frozen.

Stone. Steel. Silence.

His face is slack. That haunted stillness takes over.

He isn’t gone. But he isn’t Bucky anymore.

“Печь.”

His eyes go distant. Flat. His face cracks into something you’ve only seen in nightmares. No fury. No fear. Just absence.

“Доброкачественный.”

“No,” you breathe. Your heart forgets how to beat. “Bucky,” you basically yell at him. Nobody even knew there were still functioning systems here. But they’d been waiting. Planning.

“Девять.”

“Bucky please snap out of this.” You know it’s useless. You don’t know why you say it.

“Возвращение на родину.“

Your hand trembles around the grip of your weapon as you force yourself to jump out of the shock your limbs are locked in. You raise your arm and aim. You pull the trigger. One.

“Один.”

Two.

“Грузовой вагон.”

Three.

Four times.

The machine sparks. Cracks. Screams. A dozen red lights blink and die like stars going out. The voice cuts out, perhaps wanting to give a command, a final breath of Russian strangled by silence. And it slams into the room like a body.

For a heartbeat, for a breath, you think it’s over.

You hope it’s over.

But his name dies on your tongue when you turn back to him.

Bucky doesn’t speak. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe like a man. He doesn’t look at you - he tracks you, the way a sniper does. As if you’re a piece of intel.

Sam’s voice crackles over the comms. “Hey. We heard something. Everything good over there?”

You can’t answer right away.

Your voice is lost.

Because Bucky Barnes is gone.

And the Winter Soldier is standing in his place.

It takes you a minute to explain your situation and you hear the tremor in Steve’s voice when he tells you they’re on their way.

You try to breathe around the panic growing like thorns in your chest.

You whisper his name, again and again, as if it’s a spell that might pull him back. But the Winter Soldier does not know your voice.

Does not know you.

And when Steve finally rounds the corner, face pale, shield up, Bucky growls.

Low. Subhuman. A warning without words.

“Woah, woah- easy,” Steve says, holding up a hand. He looks at you. “He’s- He’s not gone. We’ll fix this. We can bring him back.”

You don’t know how promising he tries to make this sound.

But Bucky shifts his body, in front of you.

He plants himself between you and everyone else, like a wall, like a weapon.

Like a threat.

No orders. No hesitation. Just instinct.

He scans Steve’s hands. Sam’s gun. Natasha’s eyes.

Every time someone even twitches in your direction, he angles his body tighter around you, metal hand flexing. His breathing is shallow. Sharp.

He has no words. No explanations. He doesn’t seem to need them.

You try to take a step forward, away from his back. He moves with you. You stop. So does he.

“Please,” you whisper. “Bucky. Come back.”

But he doesn’t flinch.

Not for the begging in your voice. Not for the heartbreak in your eyes.

But you know he doesn’t hear you. He only hears the ghosts in his blood. The machine in his brain. The purpose Hydra seared into his bones.

“Alright, this can’t-“ The moment Sam takes a step forward, Bucky moves.

He grabs you. Not roughly, not violently, but fully. As if the air between your bodies has never existed. As if he’s made of magnets and you’re the only thing that ever pulled him north.

His metal arm anchors around your waist, his other hand at your shoulder, your spine, your hip - everywhere, all at once. He places himself between you and the others again and makes sure to keep you there as if you are a holy thing. His breath is ragged. Feral.

“Bucky,” Steve tries. There is something pained in his tone. Also something warning. “Let her go.”

But he doesn’t listen.

Because there is nothing left to listen to.

No more commands. No more codes. No more voice in his ear.

So he seems to have written a new directive into his mind and that is you.

You are the mission now. You are the purpose, the protection, the last thing left when everything else burns.

His hand is wrapped around your wrist so tightly, it makes your breath hitch. But you don’t pull away. You can’t. There is something in his eyes. Something not Bucky but not nothing either.

Not the soldier.

Not the man.

Just this animal of loyalty. Of violence. Of need.

You try.

God, you try.

You speak to him in pieces. In whispers. In words coming from trembling lips and bruised hope.

“Bucky,” you plead.

Soft. Like maybe softness will do it. Like maybe he’ll come back to the sound of your voice wrapped in love instead of command.

But he doesn’t.

And he doesn’t let anyone near you.

Not Steve, who takes one careful step and ends up with a knife lodged in the floor in front of his foot.

Not Sam, who reaches out and gets a warning growl that raises the hairs on your arms.

Not Natasha, who tries to circle behind, quiet as a whisper - and is met with the barrel of Bucky’s gun aimed clean between her eyes.

You frantically call Bucky’s name.

“Hey- easy,” she says, voice low. “Nobody wants to harm your girl, Barnes.”

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip on you, fingers locking around your arm like a shackle. You try to find a piece of Bucky still breathing in there.

But all you see is possession.

He steps back into the shadows, pulling you with him, shielding you with his body as if the world is trying to take you and he’s the last wall still standing.

No one sees you now.

Because he won’t let them.

He moves you behind crates. Walls. Corners. Shadows. Always putting something between you and them. Always hiding you. Not out of shame. Not out of fear.

Out of possession.

Out of protection.

Out of a command he gave himself.

You are a mission. A precious object. A singular order sculpted into the ruins of his memory.

You hear Steve’s heavy sigh. His quiet and deep voice. The pain in it. “We need to sedate him.”

The next thing you pick up is the click of a safety releasing.

Bucky’s gun is pointed and ready.

He would kill for you right now.

He would kill them.

All of them.

Within the blink of an eye.

For you.

“No,” you croak out, voice breaking. It feels wrong to call him Bucky. It feels wrong to call him Soldat. “Please don’t! Don’t do this!”

You don’t know if it’s something in your voice or something in your tense stance against his back, but he slowly lowers his gun, slowly turns his head to stare at you.

Empty.

Unreachable.

But somehow not cold.

And then his hand rises. Flesh fingers trace your jaw. So gently it nearly breaks you.

It’s not affection. It’s assessment.

He’s checking. For wounds. For weakness. For threats, you might be hiding beneath your skin.

You breathe as if forgetting how to.

You try to shift. Just a little. Just to look behind him. Just to meet Steve’s eyes, Sam’s, Natasha’s, Clint’s - who finally got his ass here as well.

But Bucky moves. Fast.

A hand around your chin. Tilting your face back toward him.

Eyes narrow. Jaw locks.

You know what it means.

He doesn’t want you to look at them.

He doesn’t want you to speak with them.

He doesn’t want you to think of them.

You are his now.

Because something in his mind burned the world down and left you standing in the wreckage, and he needs something to hold onto. Not just anything. Not just anyone. You.

You try again.

Whispers, again.

“I have to talk to them-”

He shakes his head. Once. Sharp. Final.

“No,” he growls. Not language. Not word. Just a sound scraped from somewhere too deep and too far gone.

You flinch and he feels it.

His grip grows stiff.

Your body goes still.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he doesn’t let you go.

You catch the glint of Steve’s shield out of the corner of your eye.

They haven’t moved in minutes.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

They don’t want to hurt him either. But they will if they have to.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Don’t come closer. Don’t- don’t try to talk to me, he- he doesn’t want that.”

You hear Sam lower his weapon, just a hair. “We can’t leave you like this.”

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to pull Bucky into your arms and shake him until something clicks and he remembers you. Remembers himself.

But the Winter Soldier only seems to be remembering his duty. Violence shaped into protection.

And right now, that protection looks like isolation.

You. Alone. Tucked behind crates and corners and silence and his broad shoulders.

You speak anyway. Because you have to. Because he’s in there somewhere. Because he might not hear the others, but maybe he can still hear you.

“Bucky,” you speak. Swallow. “They’re not the enemy.”

His hand twitches on your arm.

“They’re your friends.”

He tightens his grip.

“They’re my friends.”

He releases another deep and gravelly sound.

His body is tense, electric, fury held in the cage of his bones.

“Please,” you say. You hate the sound of your own voice now. You sound like you are shattering in slow motion. “You don’t have to protect me from them. You don’t- I’m not-”

You breathe out shakily.

Your lip trembles. Your eyes sting.

Because he’s looking at you as if he would kill the whole world to keep you safe. And he doesn’t even remember who you are.

You press your forehead to his chest. His body doesn’t move.

He’s breathing faster now. His pulse thrums under your cheek.

But he lets you stay there.

That has to be something.

Behind Bucky, someone whispers your name. Carefully. Cautiously. As though if they say it wrong you’ll be ripped out of this moment and Bucky will hunt them all down.

You lift your head.

Bucky sees it.

Sees the way your eyes pull toward Sam’s voice.

Sees the way you’re still trying to hold onto them. Still reaching.

He doesn’t like that.

He hates that.

His hand finds the back of your neck. He pulls you into him, hides your face in his chest. Your shoulders lock. His body shields you like a fortress of flesh and metal and confusion. As if your gaze is a window, and he is closing the shutters.

You are not theirs anymore.

And he will not let you be.

[tarithenurse]

A time for remembering

Fandom: MCU. Pairing/starring: Loki x GN!reader. Word count: 100. Content: Xmas eve, loneliness, sadness, grief. A/N: Third time! @justagirlinafandomworld’s Flash Fic Challenge is too much fun. This time I got “Christmas Time Is Here by Vince Guaraldi Trio”.

A time for remembering

The slender candles on the yuletide tree are burning low, the light dim enough to allow the stars and moon outside to cast their cold glare through the window now.

Pulling your legs up in the couch, you take the picture down from the windowsill and watch how the faded photograph still smiles at you.

Loki.

You remember the first yuletide with him. He’d been so happy that to be a part of it: the food, the ridiculous traditions.

He’d been even happier to snuggle up on the couch afterwards with you.

Now every yuletide would remind you of him.

[tswhiisftteedr]

Wings ☆ Drabble/Really Short One Shot

☆ Adam x Wingless Angel!Fem!Reader :

They were just so pretty, you couldn’t help but touch your boyfriend’s beautiful golden wings. And hey, what was the worst that could happen’ probably nothing too bad, right?

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Praise & Degradation, Adam is a bit condescending and forceful, but hey, it’s Adam we’re talking about. Oral Sex(Female Receiving), Penetrative Sex, First Time As A Couple. NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: 2330

Ask: Hi! ^^ Omg I saw that your requests are open!! I have one for Adam from Hazbin Hotel. I have a headcanon that his wings are very very sensitive and when you touch them it drives him crazy. Could you please do a Nsfw/ smut headcanon, or scenario with him and his female S/O just hanging out, him eating and she gets curious and touches softly them (not knowing what the affect it)? I hope you have a beautiful day!

Note: Of course!! And thank you, hope you also have a beautiful day/night!! Thanks for the request, right now I’m going to work on my others lol. Hope you like what I wrote!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Ever since your ascent to Heaven post-mortem, a sense of exclusion lingered in your heart. Unlike most heavenly beings with wings, you were one of the few soul that lack that part of the brand new heavenly anatomy. While everyone in Heaven remained kind and courteous, the infrastructure, were obvious designed for winged inhabitants. That posed you quite the challenges, especially when you where in need of transportation— the lack of automobiles was your greatest nemesis in the afterlife, as everyone effortlessly soared using their wings they didn’t need them.

Despite a subtle feeling of inferiority, your fascination with wings endured. Their majestic allure captivated you, and the desire to experience the softness of the beautiful contraptions persisted. ‘You just had to feel them!’

And you were determined to do so today, as you had received an invitation from Adam to come over.

Currently, you find yourself enjoying takeout on the expansive balcony of his penthouse. It was nice scenery, a comfy outdoor couch with a coffee table full of food.

As he rambled about his day, you nodded along, your attention solely fixed on the captivating golden wings adorning his sides and back. Sneakily inching closer to him, captivated by their beauty. “—Anyways that chick had a huge rack,” He pauses to take a bite of his burger, “So I guessed even Karen ass bitches can be hot.” he finishes with gulp.

Then you finally had a hold of them, ‘his marvellous wings!’ You were engrossed at their exquisite softness, surpassing any feathers from animals you had ever touched. Lost in the delicate material for about a solid five minutes, it had than dawned on you that Adam had stopped talking. Looking back up at him, you notice he had dropped his burger on the table. Then when you glanced at his face, you noted that he looked ‘different’, if you had to describe it, his face almost looked feverish.

In a blink, you were flipped onto your back and hit the couch cushions, then one of Adam's hands pinned both of your hands above your head.

“Fuuuck, babe! You don't need to get so handsy just because your jealous, you could've just fucking said so instead of acting a little tease, feelin’ me up and all.” He informs you while staring down at your perplexed expression, because, while Adam talked dirty in general, you had  no idea  what  you had done to be a tease in this particular  situation.

While that question spun in your head, Adam moved closer to your ear, his words jolting you out of your thoughts.

“if you were feeling needy, you just had to speak up. You know I would never leave my girl hanging, especially if getting her little brains fuck out is what she wants.” His voice low, full of desire and malice. He then playfully nip at your ear, ‘now who was the tease again?’

“Wait what— Um, Adam, where is all this coming from?!” You speak up, clearly nervous as a result of your boyfriend's statements and how close your bodies were together.

“The fuck you mean? You started this shit.” He begins, slowly sliding his free hand up your thigh. “Getting in my personal space, touching my wings to get me riled up, are you really gonna play the clueless card now you slutty little thing.” His hand now reaching under you shirt. “Think you can mess with me and just act like nothing happened, huh?” He says as he fondles with one of your breast.

“What do mean get you riled up, I barely touch you!?” You speak out anxiously; this was going far beyond anything you had done before. You two would kiss passionately at most, never doing anything remotely close to, 'well this!' It was strange; he almost acted like he did when he was mad, but this was somewhat different.

"Bold lie for an angel, like you wouldn't know— Oh, riiiight, you don't have wings." It had now dawned on him that you were utterly clueless of the affects the soft petting you gave to his wings had on him, and how depraved it made him feel.

"Yeah. I am not sure what I did to you when I touched your wings, but let me make one thing clear: it was unintentional. Seriously, they seemed soft, and I wanted to know how nice they were to the touch. So I'm sorry for making you mad; I should have asked before touching them.” You explain.

"Aww babes, don't worry, you didn't make me mad, and I'll tot's forgive you,"

You briefly relax as he speaks, well that is, until he opens his mouth again.

"Yeah I'll definitely forgive you if take care of my raging hard on for me'." He emphasised his words by grinding himself against you, making you feel his erection, and oh boy! Was he big; his self-appointed title of 'dickmaster' didn't seem so baseless anymore.

Your heart races faster as you feel a wave of panic wash over you. Despite his words, you couldn’t help but feel anxious about the situation. It was a big milestone to you, ‘the first time the two of you would have intercourse’.

You squirmed slightly, attempting to break free from his hold due to nerves but soon realize it was futile with him pinning your hands above your head. "I... I'm not sure that—," you started to say, but before you could finish, he cut you off.

"Shut up and enjoy the ride, babes." He growled softly, taking advantage of your momentary hesitation to quickly roughly kiss your lips. His tongue thrusts aggressively into your mouth, demanding entry while his other hand continues cupping your breast, squeezing and groping roughly. His erection presses harder against your thigh, digging into your sensitive flesh.

Despite your initial protests and confusion, you can't deny the familiar thrill coursing through your veins. You knew better, yet you still arch into his touch, moaning softly against his rough treatment.

As a warning to quit your shifting around, Adam's grip tightens around your wrists, almost painfully so, causing you to whimper in discomfort mixed with arousal.

And when he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing is heavy and labored.

"You like it, don't you?" He asked, his voice low with desire. His hips rock back and forth, grinding against you harder, making sure you felt every inch of his member. "Admit it, Y/N."

"A-adam, please... I—," you pleaded while being out of breath, but your words were cut off by another deep kiss. His tongue forced its way past your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily yet his hand didn't stop its manhandling of your chest. Meanwhile, his cock throbbed painfully against your thigh, leaving a trail of precum on your clothes.

The sensation was too much for you to handle; despite your original nervousness, the thoughts of messing up or not being enough had dissipated, and you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him anymore. You wanted him and he was totally into you.

Plus your body responded to his touch in ways you didn’t expect it to, it was incredibly in tune with his wants. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he continued his assault on both your body and mind.

Suddenly, Adam pulled away, his breathing heavy and short. "Good girl," he praised, his tone laced with satisfaction. "Now, spread those legs for me."

While being aroused, you still reluctantly spread your legs wide apart, letting him take off your shorts and exposing your wet panties. "Please, Adam," you whimpered, unable to resist his advances any longer.

With a growl of lust, he ripped off your remaining clothes, revealing your naked body to him. His eyes devoured every inch of you—your stomach, to your hips and obviously your beautiful pussy. Without further ado, he leaned forward, his mouth descending upon your navel, tracing slow, hot lines with his tongue before moving lower still. "Mmmm, you smell so fucking good toots," he murmured against your sensitive flesh.

His hands trailed downwards too, cupping your thighs in his palms, squeezing and kneading them. Soon switching to one free hand and one holding down your legs, inching his face to your then and lapping at your heat.

“Adam, what in the heavens are you doing!?"

“Uh, trying to eating you out, pretty obvious babes”

"Yeah, I get that, but like, why?? You always complain about 'bitches being annoying for demanding you go down on them.' when you mentioned passed relationships"

"Oh yeah, I did say that lmao. Honestly, I just feel like it. You look so pathetically adorable; I couldn’t help myself."

“Did— did you just lmao out loud?”

“Do you want me to stop eating you out with all your interruptions.” He threatens.

"No! I mean, I'm alright. Please continue."

"That’s what I thought too, babes," he grinned around your wet folds, sucking and licking at your sensitive spots. His tongue traced along your cunt, flicking against your clit before returning to tease your entrance again.

You moaned softly, your hands grasping tightly onto Adam's horns as he continued to pleasure you. You arched into him, letting out a soft whimper when his long tongue brushed against your G-spot. "Mmmhmmm... More please..." you managed to mutter between heavy breaths.

He chuckled lightly against your sensitive flesh before pulling away slightly. "Alright, alright." With renewed vigor, he returned to his task with even more enthusiasm, sucking harder and faster on your clit while his fingers teased her opening. He could feel your wetness increasing rapidly, seeping down onto his hand.

Your body trembled and shook in response to the intense sensations assaulting every inch of your being; you were close now—very close. Your breathing became increasingly shallow as she fought the impending orgasm building up inside of her. Then finally you reached sweet climax.

Adam momentarily let go of you to undress himself, now cock in hand."Tell me you want it," he demanded between kisses to neck, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"I... I do," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible above your heavy breathing.

"That's my girl," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. Without warning, he thrust his cock deep inside you, filling you completely. A sharp cry escaped your lips as the unfamiliar yet familiar feeling washed over you. His thrusts were fast and hard, pounding into you relentlessly. Each powerful stroke brought forth a moan from your throat, mixing with his growls of pleasure.

Your body adjusted quickly to his size, accommodating him easily despite initial discomfort. You arched your back against him, meeting his rhythmic thrusts. The sensation was unlike anything you've ever experienced before—it hurt, but in the best possible way. Your chest bounced with each powerful thrust.

As Adam continued to ravish you, his fingers found their way between your legs, rubbing and massaging your sensitive folds. He teased and tormented your clit mercilessly, causing waves of intense pleasure to ripple through your core. After staring at your lower half for a minute, “I should totally get my name tatted on you, like a crotch tattoo or some shit.” he tells you in his usual goofy tone, yet the look behind his eyes seem to say that he wasn’t completely joking. You on the other could only cry out his name between ragged breaths, begging for more.

“That's it, you filthy little whore," he murmured between labored breaths. "Tell me how much you love this, slut." His pace picked up even more, slamming into you harder and faster than before. Your moans echoed around the room as he relentlessly claimed your body.

In response to his demand, you managed to choke out, "I... I love it!" Your voice cracking with desire, filled with honesty despite yourself.

"Good girl." He growled, picking up speed. His hips slammed against yours in a brutal rhythm that left you gasping for air. His fingers continued their relentless assault on your sensitive spots, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. As a reflex you grabbed at his back, well in this case, his wings.

And that action fucked with him so bad. So Adam bit down hard on your neck, leaving a mark that would later turn into a pretty obvious hickey. Blood trickled down your skin, but it only served to heighten your arousal. "Cum for me, babe," he groaned, his voice hoarse with lust. "Let go, don’t think too hard about it"

You were close, so close to the brink of orgasm. The constant barrage of stimulation was too much for your body to handle, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "A-Adam... I'm..."

"That's it, baby," he encouraged you, his words thick with desire. He increased the pace even more, pounding into you relentlessly.

With a loud cry, you release around him, your pussy contracting tightly around his cock as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you. Your entire body shook with the force of your climax, and sweat trickled down your body, mixing with his saliva and cum.

Adam groaned in satisfaction, following suit moments later, filling you up with his hot seed. Panting heavily, he lifted his head to stare into your eyes, his gaze filled with lust and satisfaction. "That was fucking amazing, shit, that’s why your my fav."

After momentarily going inside to get cleaned up, you had returned to the balcony.

“Shit my burger is cold!” Adam bitches.

“Well what did you expect it was left on a table while being outdoors— Oh, shit, did someone-?” You begin, than the realization of the what just happened hits Locke a truck.

“-Hear us? Yeah most likely, but doesn’t really matter, they won’t do shit about it, well probably.” He says followed by a laugh.

Sometimes you wondered why you were dating someone so irresponsible, but after today, you did have another bullet point to add to your pros list. ‘The dick was good’

Thanks @starlightfire97 for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

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Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

[lifeinacartoon]

Do They Know It's Christmas?

I was playing COD Modern Warfare earlier, and it gave me the idea to write a Christmas drabble about one of my favourite ships—Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

I just wish I didn’t have work tomorrow; I’d love to spend the whole day watching the MCU. ----

The snow was falling softly, blanketing the abandoned warehouse in a deceptive calm. Clint shifted his weight, adjusting the angle of his bowstring as his breath misted in the frigid air. Beside him, Natasha sat cross-legged, her Glock cradled in her lap, her sharp eyes scanning the shadows outside the broken windows.

“Quiet tonight,” Clint murmured.

“Too quiet,” Natasha replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze flicked to her watch, and then to the sky. A faint smile tugged at her lips.

“What’s funny?” Clint asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said simply.

Clint blinked, then glanced down at his own watch. Midnight was close. “Huh. Forgot what day it was.”

“Easy to do when you’re about to take out an arms dealer,” Natasha replied dryly. She paused, her eyes softening. “But still. Christmas.”

They lapsed into silence, listening to the faint hum of wind through the rafters. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell tolled, muffled by the storm. For a fleeting moment, they weren’t SHIELD agents on a mission—they were just two friends, hiding away from the world, sharing a rare moment of stillness.

“I’ll take a decent cup of coffee over presents,” Clint muttered, earning a quiet chuckle from Natasha.

“Let’s finish this job first,” she said, her tone lighter now. “Then we can worry about coffee. And maybe pie.”

“Pie sounds good,” Clint agreed, grinning.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed from outside, shattering the moment. Both agents tensed, weapons at the ready.

“Showtime,” Natasha whispered.

“Let’s make it quick,” Clint replied. “We’ve got a holiday to get back to.”

And with that, they disappeared into the shadows, ready to finish what they’d started.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Reading Rooms

Inspired by some other gorgeous individuals, I thought I'd try and compile some of my weekly reading into some kind of list. Since throwing myself into the Marvel fandom and actually writing for these characters rather than just reading, I've followed - and been followed by (cue fangirl shriek) - some epic blogs, and I want to be able to throw as many new readers and followers their way as I can.

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

Lessons in Love-Making by @artficlly. I've only read the first chapter so far, but this already has me totally hooked! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Not a Fairy Tale Kiss (no names for this exist) by @azriona . This is the very definition of EPIC. A staggering word count, an absolute feat of storytelling. I've barely scratched the surface of this so far, but I'm loving every second. Posted on AO3, so head over there for your fix! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

@mrs-elsie-barnes , the writer that you are! I have a whole heap of recommendations here. First up, Policy & Procedure - if you like your Bucky Congressman shaped, this Bucky Barnes x Reader fic has your name on it. Then we have the little (slightly spoilery) Thunderbolts* drabble - Home Time - Bucky Barnes x Reader. Finally, we have the super hot - I've got to let you know (I need you tonight) featuring Joaquin Torres x Reader.

The 2k Drabble Challenge by @marvelstoriesepic is bananas. The dedication, the range, the heartbreak, and longing... ugh, these are all incredible, but my personal highlights are Misfire, Where We Were When The Stars Came Out, What the Mirror Doesn't Say & Tattoo Me In Flowers. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Put Your Hands In Mine by @buck-star is so moving and vitally important. I loved it so much. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Oil & Water by @flowersforbucky was so insanely hot it had me squealing. It is literally perfect if you would like to sit on that man's face. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Charm and Claim by @ramp-it-up were both so excellent and super hot! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

@aquaticmercy is a genius and the writing is impeccable and when I tell you I RUN to every post... I've so much to catch up on, but Interstate Love Song was gorgeous. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Let Me Hurt a Little Longer by @daxisyzz was so good! I loved the slightly manipulative POV, who wouldn't want Bucky's hands on them?! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

The Dog Tags series by @marvelwitchergilmore is brilliant! Part 1 is linked, be sure to check out the rest, and what a masterlist to get stuck into - especially for my Slow Horses babes because there's some River Cartwright in there, too! (cc. @cillmequick @dreamer-98 @annaelizabethhenry1 @liquid-confidenc3 💕)

Then we have @navybrat817 , who is pure genius and her post Thunderbolts* fic Not Exactly A Secret. Navy's setting up a Tower Shenanigans list, so expect more from the Thunderbolts*. As well as this, I read the excellent Late Night and Late Night Recap. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

I came across @jobean12-blog 's This Is Love this week, an oldie but a very goodie! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

If you haven't read Security Clearance by @societyfolklore yet, why?! This was soooo hot! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

And lastly, I'm sharing this little New Dad Bucky Headcannon by @sunday-bug , and lemme tell ya, it will not be the last thing I share of Sunny's! I can't wait to get stuck into her Masterlist because it's going to take over my life in the best possible way!

This covers everything I've read this week 🙌

God, I hope the links all work cos that took forever 🤣. Apologies for sharing via my own slightly unhinged reblogs. Next time, I'll try and make sure I share original links where possible!

💕

pressing post and hoping all the tags work 🫡