#mostly because of his incredibly long tail that he’s using to wrap around his ‘brood’

[halfghostwriter]

When a true baby ghost is born— a ghost not born of dying, but rather through the desire of another ghost— they are little more than a core with wispy ectoplasm emanating from them for about a month. During said month, they take on influence from their surroundings in order to figure out the form they’ll take, hence why so many young ghosts look like their parents.

Because they aren’t fully formed until a month after their birth, the parent or parents will take on a far more aggressive, primal form in order to protect their child. The parent’s form will become incredibly monstrous, and their size will increase, with triple their normal size being most common among parents. Their mental state also becomes incredibly instinctual, higher intelligence temporarily being replaced by aggression towards anyone the ghost doesn’t consider family. They stay in this state until the baby is fully formed.

Of course, Danny “don’t worry about it” Phantom forgets to add this bit of trivia to his explanation to his fellow heroes as to why he was taking paternity leave. In his defense, he didn’t expect them to visit during that month.

And he definitely didn’t expect his brooding brain to latch onto most everyone who visited as “part of his brood.”

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 22

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Putting aside your doubts and trepidation, you finally show Bucky how you really feel.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by @araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Alcohol use, explicit sexual content with a non-human entity

AO3

Operation: Seduce Bucky Barnes… had stalled.

There you’d been, standing in the snowfield, bathed in moonlight like a scene straight out of a romance. He’d been right there, shirtless and too unbelievably gorgeous to be real.

It was The Moment you were looking for. The one for heartfelt confessions and hasty, frantic kisses that had been building up for weeks.

And you froze. Completely and utterly froze.

What if Bucky was only being nice? you asked yourself. Maybe he was trying to make an effort to be friendlier and you were completely misreading his intentions.

By the time your frantic thoughts had been corralled back where they belonged, it was too late. Bucky had taken back his shirt with a small, sheepish expression, and replaced his clothing and guise, looking as if he hadn’t been flying a hundred feet in the air with you moments before.

The reason the opportunity had passed right over your head? You were still too afraid of what would happen if Bucky rejected you. The tenuous not-knowing how he truly felt about you was almost preferable to having an answer that would be devastating.

But that wasn’t what this was supposed to be about. It was about Bucky, about making him feel appreciated and wanted and loved. If that’s not what he wanted from you, then… at least you’d know. Even if it killed you a little more every time the bond had to be sated.

So: the mission was still on, but you needed some serious help, and this help happened to come in the form of rum-spiked egg nog. The whole family was participating, even Bucky; it was the perfect opportunity to get inebriated just enough to smother your cowardly doubts.

Which was how you wound up on the couch, legs draped across Bucky’s lap as you sipped on your drink. One by one, your mom, aunt, and uncle headed off to bed, leaving the two of you alone in front of the small lit fireplace.

The room was dark aside from the flickering flames, filling the room with a sleepy kind of coziness that made one want to cuddle up to something warm. It would have been perfect, only you were slightly too inebriated for grand romantic gestures, and also, Bucky was too comfy and you didn’t want to ruin the moment.

So you just laid there, eyes closed, until a hand took the mostly empty glass out from your fingers before you could drop it on the carpet. You opened your eyes and smiled sleepily, snuggling deeper into the cushions.

“That stuff do anything for you?” You pointed your chin at the glass in his own hand. Bucky softly snorted.

“No.”

“Shame.”

He finished off the rest of his glass, not even wincing at the burn of the alcohol. Or maybe there wasn’t much in it. You’d definitely made yours on the strong side.

“Still like the taste,” he remarked, smiling a little. “Reminds me of Christmas when I was a kid.”

You gasped and held a hand to your chest.

“They let you kids drink alcohol?”

Bucky released another snort and leaned back further into the back of the couch, setting a large hand on your shin. He traced the side of your calf with a warm thumb. It felt very, very nice.

“Guess you’ve never heard of a hot toddy before.”

The teasing smirk on his lips made you want to reach for your glass of eggnog and drown it in one go. Bucky was way too pretty to be in your life, let alone your house. How the hell was this your life?

You turned back to his comment and scrunched your face in concentration, trying to recall the phrase, and also trying to decide if he was fucking with you about having booze as a kid.

“Hot whiskey, honey, and water,” he supplied helpfully, still smirking at you sinfully. “Sometimes sugar or spice if Ma could get it. Gave it to us when we were sick and… I could swear it worked.”

He had a far-off expression as he spoke, the teasing smile turning into something more fond and wistful.

You propped yourself up on one elbow so you could get a better view of his face. To make sure you weren’t crossing any lines with your questions, of course.

“What were they like? Your family?”

Bucky’s gaze dropped to the carpet, and for a moment you thought your question would go unanswered and if you’d made a mistake by asking. But then he began to speak, about his mother and father, and more fondly, about his younger sister Rebecca. How much he missed her, and that while she had passed away years ago, she’d been survived by her adult children. Bucky had nieces and nephews he’d never met, who didn’t even know he was still alive.

When you suggested meeting them someday, he shook his head quickly, a dark pall over his expression.

“It wouldn’t be safe. HYDRA was around hundreds of years, I can’t believe they’re gone now. Even if they were, I’m still… It would be better if they believed I’d died a long time ago. Better for them to never know that demons are real and their uncle is one of them.”

You frowned, not understanding. Hadn’t your life gotten immeasurably better since Bucky had been in it? Sure, there was the terrifying, almost-dying parts, but… everything else more than made up for it. But how to get Bucky to see what you saw?

You’d said all the right words to him. Your relationship had definitely improved, but it wasn’t enough. Words weren’t going to cut it.

Taking a slow breath, you sat up and pulled your legs off Bucky’s lap, curling them beneath you. He snapped out of his dour brooding to give you a look, one brow raised.

“I want to see you,” you said.

The eyebrow rose higher on his forehead.

“Everyone’s asleep.” You lowered your voice, softer. “Let me see you.”

Bucky’s close scrutiny caused the warmth under your skin to turn into a flush, but you weren’t going to back down. The alcohol had made you bold, or maybe it was the impatience.

You waited, unyielding, and eventually the tension in his shoulders loosened. The guise melted away, shimmering in the air like a mirage, revealing everything that Bucky tried to hide but you could only love.

He removed his jacket, exposing the black t-shirt that hugged his chest unfairly, but he didn’t spread his wings, leaving them drawn up against his back. When Bucky set his jacket on the end of the couch, you leaned forward, one hand outstretched, but you paused before it could make contact.

“Can I… touch you?”

His eyes darted between your hand and your face, appearing dubious about the thing you wanted to touch seeing as your fingers were inches from one swept-back horn, but eventually he nodded.

“Like I said,” he murmured, “you can touch me whenever you want.”

His eyes were dark, voice so low it was gravelly, and the monkey part of your brain screeched danger! danger! at the presence of what was clearly an apex predator.

You’d never been one for self-preservation, though.

Your fingers touched the edge of the horn closest to you. You’d always liked them. They were rigid and angled backwards but slightly up, like an especially annoyed cat. The texture was hard but lightly spiraled, and interesting pattern that you traced up to the tip.

Bucky had gone very still, watching you out of the corner of one eye as he barely breathed.

“Can you feel this?” You continued to stroke along the horn, marveling at the pattern you’d somehow never noticed before.

“Not really.” His voice was as stiff as his posture. “I can sense the vibrations your fingers are causing, but I can’t feel it directly.”

“Mmm,” you hummed thoughtfully as you continued your journey downward until you reached the soft strands of his hair. When you pressed them against his scalp, Bucky shuddered, and you paused.

“Is this okay?”

Bucky made a small noise that turned into his clearing his throat.

“It’s-it’s fine.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“It’s fine, I mean it.”

“All right.”

You sounded pretty damn steady for someone who was internally going oh fuck, he feels nice, oh shit, he smells nice too. As many times as you’d been physically close with Bucky, you’d never really been intimate. Getting to actually touch him just for the sake of touching him, and not as it being a byproduct of the feeding, was… so much different.

There was warmth in your stomach that had nothing to do with alcohol as you gently massaged the crown of his head with your fingers. Bucky’s eyelids fluttered, gaze losing focus as you continued to knead little circles into his scalp.

How long had it been since he was touched like this? It had been a long time for you, but it could have been decades for him.

When his expression was blissful and his posture more lax, you moved to the other side of his head towards the ear facing away from you.

“What about these?” You barely touched a tapered ear when Bucky gave a full-body shudder.

“Those are… more sensitive.”

A complete understatement judging by the way the plates on his arm shifted and his tail wrapped around your thigh. He must not have known what it was doing because he didn’t look down. It was fascinating something as simple as rubbing his ear made him react so strongly.

You leaned over him, chest pressing against the bared armor plates of his shoulder, right over the carved pentagram. You weren’t trying to be seductive or coy; you were leaning on him for balance as you moved your hand down the back of his head. Your plan had been to keep going until you got to the shell of his folded wings.

But the noise he made when your fingertips brushed against his nape, it was unmistakably a sharp, strangled moan. You gave another experimental run of your fingers up the back of his neck, and Bucky shuddered again. Your gut coiled with unexpected heat at his hair-trigger responses.

Holy fuck.

Steeling your nerves, you swung your leg over his, placing yourself firmly on his lap. There was still some space between you as you were perched on his thighs, but not much. His body heat at this distance was practically blazing, but you focused kneading your hands along the bunched muscles of his shoulders.

“What… are you doing?” His voice was strangled, blue eyes wide.

“Touching you.”

Bucky sighed and gently took your wrists and drew them forward, holding them in his claw-tipped hands.

“No, what are you doing?”

You didn’t know what answer to offer him, one that would fit into words, so you met his questioning gaze as he held your wrists. An impasse.

Moving your hands forward, he blinked and let you go, eyes locked onto your face as you carefully, gently cupped his face in your palms. The stubble tickled against your skin, but he was so warm. Real. Alive.

His eyes widened in surprise as you stroked your thumbs against his cheeks. You savored every small change in his features as he tried to figure you out when you yourself had no solid plan yourself. There was only you and Bucky, and this was how you always wanted it to be.

You leaned down, slowly as to give him time to pull away, and hovered over his lips.

He didn’t move an inch, his breath stilled in his chest as he waited for your next move.

You crossed the small distance left between you, pressing your lips to his so lightly that you almost couldn’t feel it. Just a light pressure, faint warmth and unbelievable softness.

At Bucky’s lack of response, you pulled away. He was completely locked up under you, still not breathing, and when you opened your eyes he was staring without blinking.

Doubt sat heavy in your stomach. Should you have done this? What if it wasn’t what he wanted? What if he didn’t want you?

There was no mistaking your feelings now; he would have to reject them, and every time you fulfilled the bond it was going to slowly destroy you.

You shouldn’t have kissed him, shouldn’t have thought up this stupid, stupid plan—

Arms looped around your back and pulled you forward, slotting you against Bucky’s torso as he cradled the back of your head. His lips were on yours in an instant, demanding and hard.

A fire ignited low in your belly, one that had nothing to do with the mark on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck, drawing your thighs tighter around his waist as you opened your mouth to him. He took the invitation immediately, delving his tongue inside as he curled his claws into your hair.

Bucky lifted you both from the couch and you clung tighter to him so you wouldn’t fall, but he held you securely, lips never leaving yours as he somehow navigated the stairs to the second floor.

You’d expected Bucky to place you on the bed, but instead he set you down in the middle of your old bedroom. When he broke the kiss and stood back, you tried to chase his lips while making a noise of frustration.

Bucky gave a crooked grin that showed he knew exactly what he was doing to you, evidenced by the way he pulled off his shirt, leaving him bare-chested.

You were torn between wanting to undress yourself and needing to touch him. You settled for clumsily stripping off your shirt and immediately returning your hands to his chest, fingers mapping over the hardened muscles and stopping at the scared edge of his left shoulder.

Bucky’s smile faded and he parted his lips to say something, but you ran your fingers over the scars, gentle over the rough skin. Skin you hadn’t realized until now looked like claw marks, as if someone had tried to tear the limb off.

Your heart ached as you continued on to trace your fingers over the grooved edges of his plates. They shifted restlessly under your touch, much like the demon himself as he shuffled on his clawed feet.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked quietly.

Are you sure I’m who you want?

Even now, he was giving you an out. Not understanding you’d made your choice a long time ago.

You leaned against him and pressed your lips against where scarred flesh met hardened carapace. You kissed all the way down to his mark, a mirror image of your own, in answer to his question.

Evidently, it was enough to finally break through whatever doubts were still holding Bucky back. In one swift movement, he unclipped your bra and pulled it off your shoulders, forcing your hands to drop from his shoulders. He quickly replaced them, not on his chest but on his belt buckle.

The fire in your gut reignited, different from how it usually was. Even though you only had a couple days left until Bucky would need to feed again, your mark lay dormant and painless. Everything your body was doing right now was a hundred percent you. Which meant you were slightly awkward, flustered, and flushed.

You fumbled at Bucky’s belt, finger shaking as he chuckled against the bare skin of your shoulder. It was the only warning you got before he pressed his lips against the side of your neck, and you had to struggle to pull the belt from its loops as your knees trembled.

Damn demon didn’t even seem bothered as his hands roamed over your waist and back. It was completely unfair.

Once you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, you got your revenge by sliding your hand inside and grasping a hand around his—oh, fuck, you’d forgotten how massive and not-human his cock was.

A deep growl rumbled in his chest as he quickly tugged off your pants and underwear, his movements still controlled but just on the edge of it. He yanked off his jeans and picked you up, laying you gently on the bed before you could flounder at the loss of balance.

You stared up at him, already panting as you clutched onto his shoulders, hips wriggling to search for some kind of friction against your aching heat. Bucky hovered just above you, thighs spreading your legs as he knelt between them, pupils blown but brows pulled at an uncertain angle.

Frustrated and impatient, you wrapped your legs around his waist. Something curled around your ankle and you grinned; at least one part of Bucky was fully onboard.

You opened your mouth, to say what you weren’t sure, but you never got the chance. His mouth closed over yours, tongue licking at the seam of your lips, and you groaned and opened them willingly.

The drag of his cock against your abdomen was pure torture, and no matter how much you tilted your hips upwards to rub against it, Bucky wouldn’t push inside. He was teasing you.

It was a wonderful torture, your body writhing every time the strange ridges of his cock dragged along your folds. You desperately rutted against him, but everything Bucky denied between your legs he gave to your mouth, kissing in a way that was obscene and filthy. You’d known his tongue was long and dexterous, but it was like he was fucking your mouth, tongue pushing in and out as it coiled around your own.

“Bucky, please,” you groaned when he finally let you come up for air. He trailed kisses down your jaw to your neck, lapping at you with that sinfully long tongue.

You rolled your hips to make your point, whimpering when one of the soft ridges passed right over your clit. Bucky wasn’t unaffected, either. His breathing was hitched and uneven, and precum was smeared all over your stomach.

Without even thinking, you scooped up some of the mess on your finger and popped it in your mouth, closing your eyes to focus on the unique taste. Slightly salty but distinctly Bucky.

When you opened your eyes, Bucky was staring, mouth slightly agape. You quickly removed your finger, face heating, but Bucky didn’t let you stew in your embarrassment.

He kissed you hard, tongue licking into your mouth to taste himself as he put one arm under your hips. Completely unprepared as the tapered head of his cock pushed past your folds and opened you up.

You cried out against his lips, clutching his shoulders tightly as he continued to push, stretching you impossibly wide as you took every inch of him.

Bucky broke the kiss when you made another overwhelmed noise, his breathing uneven and hitched, voice strained.

“Are you… did I…”

“I’m fine.” You gave a quiet, breathless laugh. “Did I ever… tell you… how insanely huge you are? F…fucking… feels like I’m being… murdered.”

Bucky’s eyes rounded in horror, and this time, you giggled, wincing as you tightened around him. Terrible idea, because it also felt really good, and now you were rolling your hips against him again.

“Please, don’t stop. I’m only half-kidding,” you gasped out when you could breathe again. Bucky made a choked noise and buried his face against your neck, groaning.

“You can’t just… say things like that.”

“Why. Is it hot?”

“Fuck.”

Bucky gripped your hip tightly as he started to ground down against you, testing his shallow thrusts. You tried to stay quiet because there were still people in the house, but at least there was a bathroom between your room and the others. There was no way you were going to stay silent, not with Bucky’s perfect cock splitting you open.

When he began to move, all you could do was bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming. It shouldn’t have been possible for anyone to take a cock of that size, yet you did. It didn’t hurt, but each thrust was overwhelming. A jolt of pleasure accompanied each one, your heart thudding wildly as you gradually tightened around him.

Bucky placed desperate kisses along your neck as if starved for it, each powerful move of his hips driving him deeper. Something tore next to your head, his claws ripping a hole in the pillows. You didn’t care, drowning in the scent and sound and feel of Bucky to mind the state of your bed.

Your legs trembled, nails digging harmlessly against the hardened base of his wings. They were open now, curled over you both. Possessive and shielding.

“B-Bucky… I…”

You whimpered pitifully as he kissed along your jaw with that same fevered need.

“I know, I know, it’s okay.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and whined, so close to the edge it was maddening.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

You wailed before your voice cut out altogether, unable to breathe as your body tensed around him.

Bucky groaned and fucked you through the orgasm, murmuring assurances and praise. You were barely coherent, your body squeezing him as if trying to milk him dry.

His hips stuttered and he followed you soon after with a sharp cry, muffled as he buried his face in your hair. You could sense the actual pull of energy, flowing through your body as you fed him, and it made for an unearthly orgasm.

You winced as you still pulsed around him, quickly growing oversensitive, but Bucky had stopped moving and laid on top of you. You half-expected him to get off you and regret what he had done.

Instead, he turned his head and kissed you on the temple. You huffed a quiet laugh, pulling an unexpected smile from you.

“What’s so funny?” he mumbled, sounding completely blissed out as he nudged the side of your cheek with his nose.

“You.” Rubbing your hands up and down his back, you reveled in his closeness, practically drunk on it. “I… wanted to do this for a long time.”

“Me too.”

You groaned in complaint when he finally moved off of you. He wasn’t gone for long, returning with a warm, damp hand towel from the bathroom. You really hoped Mom wouldn’t a buck-ass naked demon in the hallway.

As he cleaned you up, so gently that you wanted to cover your face with your hands, you asked, “What do you mean, me too?”

Bucky sighed, set the cloth aside, and got back into bed. He pulled the covers over you both and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

“I meant I should have done that sooner,” he said. “I wanted to. I just didn’t know if you…”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I was in the same boat.”

Bucky chuckled, breath tickling your scalp.

“We really need to work on the whole communication thing better.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Although.” He rubbed your back. “We seem to communicate fine when we’re naked.”

You groaned against his chest. Bucky was not allowed to have a dirty sense of humor. It would be the death of you.

“Am I wrong?”

“I have nothing to say,” you muttered, your grumpiness undermined when you snuggled against him. “Nothing at all.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead. You really, really hoped the kisses and easy touches would be standard from now on. He was spoiling you, and you didn’t know how you’d survive without them now.

“We should… probably talk about this later,” he said in a softer tone. “After we get some sleep.”

You huffed. Even if you agreed you should talk more, you didn’t want to. Couldn’t you just be a couple? Why’d it have to be more complicated than that?

“I’m sure your family will want to be up early tomorrow,” Bucky added thoughtfully.

You frowned, brain churning slowly, and then your eyes went wide.

“Shit. I forgot it was Christmas again.”

“Was it that good?”

“Bucky!”

He showed mercy after you buried your face in the pillow, squeezing you tightly and petting your hair with a chuckle. He was quickly forgiven. A part of you still couldn’t believe this was real, it had finally happened, and Bucky hadn’t run away. You hadn’t run away.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair.

Your breath caught in your throat, a lump forming. Everything was going to be fine, you would sort things out later. All that mattered was you had this moment with Bucky. Hard-fought and won.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you said, and snuggled up to your demon as you finally drifted off to sleep.

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