#shifter!reader

[invincibledc]

Attention Effort!

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪 𝒀𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑬! 𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑲 ����𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 + 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑿 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹!𝑪𝑯𝑰��𝑫!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Genre: drabble

Summary: when a shifter between universes who is so young, they get the attention of two superheroes who fight to be their main family. But the youngster just wants to show their powers!

☆★ info！reader is a child at the age of 8-9 who has the ability to shift through realities/worlds/universes, shift to things into their own liking. Basically like atom eve but a chaotic user of shifting the person’s or something’s anatomy or aleast make things appear. After meeting Dick, he began a father figure more than a brother. Taking care of you and even having a room for you. Then you were forced to leave the world, making you join Mark and his family before the same thing happened.

☆〜 “Mr. Grayson!”

“Yes kid?” They both turn at you, before glaring at each other. Always having a rivalry towards each other. You didn’t care for who pays attention, you just gotta show them what you made up.

“Look what I can do!” You jumped excitedly as you clapped into the air. Two bouncing balloons appeared. Both having the stripe colors of black and blue, expect one of them had goggles and the other a bird on it.

“Balloons! For you two!” Your giddy attitude made the two Graysons heart warmed up as they take it.

“Thanks songbird….” Dick says softly looking at the balloon while just mark ruffles your hair.

“This is amazing bud, hey why don’t you come visit me? Oliver’s been dying to show you his new powers.” Eyes widening with excitement, you jump up.

“Yes! Yes! I wanna go!” Before you could grab his hand, Dick grabbed it. With a clench jaw despite his smile, he pulled you gently towards his way. “Are you sure he has any new powers? Thought you told them that Oliver already finished getting his powers?”

Mark stayed quiet, before dick knew, you were gone as Mark had flew off with you in his arms. You were just giggling as mark had a smug look onto his face. “Good thing he doesn’t have powers.”

But that didn’t mean he can’t find you as he pulled out his phone to look at his “baby tracker”. This man was ready as he had put a lot of clothes he bought you with trackers. But luckily Tim had made them turn on when it’s your body heat so it’ll be easier to find you quicker than just ripping and running around.

“DONT worry songbird, papa’s coming!” He gets to moving as soon as possible.

Mark ends up finding himself tied up with some rope that he can’t even get out in. He’s [title card] INVINCIBLE for crying out loud, but he forgot his little sibling figure is practically a god anywhere as you were tricked into thinking that Mark wanted to be a piñata.

If you weren’t there, Mark would’ve turned into Crackable instead as he takes you out the house of this world’s graysons.

[nessieart]

A story of finding yourself and finding love and friendship along the way. Navigating a world you've known all your life to a world of superheroes and foes alike.

A Tony Stark x Shifter!Reader story. Supernatural/Soulmates AU.

-*- COMPLETED

One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Fourteen || Fifteen || Sixteen || Seventeen || Eighteen || Nineteen || Twenty .

*-*

Part 2 AoU (on hiatus)

One-shots:

What If...?

***

Tony and Poppy will return!

[forestgoblinvibes]

could i be added to the shifter au taglist? pls 🫶🏽 (i’m enjoying it too much 😩)

Of course! As soon as the next chapters out I’ll add you to the tag list! Hopefully it’s within this coming week 😂😂

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

bear hybrid! price who stalks around your house at night, protecting you from whatever else might be lurking in the woods. you don't know that he is of course, but you should be more thankful when he shuts and locks your windows when you're asleep. occasionally you see him lumber on the edge of the forest, minding his own. he doesn't want to scare you, but he wants you to admire him, too.

wolf hybrid! simon that follows you everywhere (from a distance and he rarely lets you touch him). you were frightened at first of the big bad wolf, but when he takes you away from snakes and other dangers in the woods you learn to leave out some scraps for him. (he sleeps on your front step. won't enter the house yet.)

fox hybrid! johnny who regularly sneaks into your house to play in your blankets. the wildlife here is so friendly you're shocked, shouldn't they be frightened of you? however he sleeps under your bed and he's fine unless you try to kick him out. red fur is on everything, he seems unusually close to the wolf that looms around. loves scratches to the ears!

falcon hybrid! kyle who hovers in air around your house. he finds little trinkets for you and leaves them on your porch. he mostly hangs around price, but he will chirp greetings and steal bird feed from your feeders.

they protect you in different ways, trying to worm their way to your affections before they bed down in your abode for winter.

[galatially]

NAVY I NEED THEM MORE THAN I THOUGHT I WOULD HAVE

The Animal Within

Pairing: Shifter!Bucky Barnes x Shifter!Female Reader Summary: Bucky can't help but follow you when you go through his territory. Word Count: Over 2.2k Warnings: Shifters, flirting, background character death, mention of blood, slight possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Meet Wolfie and Little Red! My fourth and final Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 4) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse AND Week 2 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents! Theme - What should I call you? ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by @firefly-graphics and thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer and @buckets-and-trees for the encouragement! ❤️Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When Bucky was a child, the townspeople warned him not to venture too far into the woods. Dangerous creatures lurked in the shadows and many who strayed far from the beaten path never came back. What they didn't know was that he often did that very thing since he could walk. The townspeople had no reason to fear for him. While they were right that the forest held many dangers, it was also a place of kinship and wonder. He found solace in the trees.

Because even predators had soft sides.

Which was one of the reasons he started tracking you.

Who are you?

Bucky knew every creature in his territory, but hadn’t seen you before. You were stunning and quick as you wove in and out of the trees, a blur of red amongst the green and brown background. You stopped at one point to smell some flowers, as if you didn’t have a care in the world. Something about your scent excited him like nothing else, tempting him to chase you down. He refrained from doing so and maintained a safe distance as he followed, not wanting to spook you. He should’ve alerted Steve and the others the deeper you went into the woods, but he wanted to keep you to himself for now.

As if you were his.

Steve would likely ask him later why he decided to follow you in the first place. The easy answer was that this wasn't your home and he wanted to know why you decided to go through this part of the forest. It also concerned him a bit that you were by yourself. While he had his found family, he wondered why wasn’t someone by your side? Was it by choice?

Why are you all alone out here, little red?

The air was cool in this part of the forest, even with the sun shining through the branches, but it didn't seem to bother you as you stopped to play with a rock. Bucky crouched between two trees, careful not to draw attention to himself as he curiously watched. You were smaller than him and appeared far too sweet for your own good. It was strange how he felt the need to protect you and snarl that you needed to stay alert. You were all alone and anyone could come along and just eat you up.

A snap of a twig drew his attention, lowering his body more when another scent drifted through the air. You, on the other hand, were perfectly content in your own little world. Either you didn't sense the foreboding atmosphere shift or you didn't care.

Why aren't you paying attention?!

Bucky bit back a growl when he spotted the large man coming from the opposite direction, almost blending in with the background as he watched you. The fur on the back of his neck stood up straight when he saw the arrow aimed in your direction. The man had every intention of killing you. It was a cruel way to die, especially when all you were doing was playing in the woods.

Now I have to save you.

As the hunter released his arrow, you surprised both of them by suddenly leaping toward the nearest tree and narrowly avoided getting hurt. You didn’t look down as you climbed up the bark and walked across one of the large branches with more agility than he expected, your eyes on the hunter as he reached for another arrow. You must have sensed him if you were able to dodge his weapon like that. If Bucky didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were laughing or playing a game.

No time to play around, little red. You can't stay up there all day.

You must have known that, too, since you leapt from the high height and onto the man below.

With a small scream, you tackled the hunter to the ground. He tried to toss you away, but he didn't stand a chance when you bit into his neck. Bucky didn't expect such ruthlessness from you, but he understood why you attacked since the hunter intended to kill you. And while he didn't normally hunt without giving chase, the tear of flesh and tissue from the man's throat urged the beast inside him to join you. He had to help as you were smaller and could still get hurt.

Pack mentality. Nothing more, right?

Bucky jumped through the trees and charged at the man lying in the dirt. He was still conscious enough to throw an arm up to try and defend himself, but it only led to the wolf chomping down and crunching the bone. He relented after a moment, only to join you in biting his neck. Blood hit his white fur and dripped onto the soil, staining the earth and adding the hunter to the long list of fallen souls in the shadows.

Should've stuck to the beaten path.

You snapped your head up at the sound of his snarl, licking some of the blood from around your mouth as you assessed him. You seemingly forgot about the lifeless hunter as you slowly backed away. Bucky didn't approach you and he wasn't your enemy, but refused to lower his head in submission as you hunched your back. He was almost impressed at the fearless flash in your eyes.

You won't win a fight against me.

Your body collided with his a second later, a firm reminder of your speed even though he was stronger. You didn't claw or bite as the two of you rolled away from the body, but you screamed again. Maybe you wanted to warn him that you weren't a creature to mess with. Or maybe you knew he followed you and wanted to retaliate.

It was for your own good.

Bucky got on top of you as you came to a stop. With a small growl and raise of his lips, he went for your throat. He would've bitten through your neck, but he didn't since his intention wasn't to kill you. He wouldn't let you do any damage to him either. The clench of his jaw was a warning of what he could do if you didn't submit and the hold was enough to make you go lax beneath him with a small sound. And it was the pounding of your heart against his fur that made him loosen his hold.

It's okay, little red.

He let go completely at the sound of snapping and shifting bones beneath him. He knew those noises all too well. The shrill shriek you let out faded to a groan as your body stretched, the red fur disappearing into your skin. Your eyes were still glowing as you completed the transformation from a fox to a human.

A beautiful, naked human.

Though the townspeople feared the woods and knew monsters existed, not everyone believed the myth that shifters roamed the land. But here you were, living proof just like him. Maybe that was why your scent called to him, a mixture of something wild and grounding. It was only right that he changed back into his human form, too. It didn't mean he'd give you the satisfaction of moving away while he shifted back, his bones molding and skin stretching with a grunt. His hair fell in his blue eyes as he exhaled, his breathing harsh as he realized just how close your bodies were.

And that he could smell your arousal.

"You know I didn't need you to save me, right, wolfie?" you smiled, bringing a hand to his cheek. He bristled, but not because it didn't feel nice. It was because you touched him without hesitation. "I had it under control."

Wolfie?

"I think you did need my help," he couldn't help but say. While you were a predator, you weren't as dangerous as him. Your touch was too soft. "You should be thanking me."

"Thank you for not minding your own business."

"It is my business when you're in my territory," he reminded you, placing his hands on each side of your head as he stared down at you. The intimidating look didn't make you cower. It made you smile.

Why aren't you afraid of me?

"I guess so," you said, stretching a little and drawing his attention to your neck. It would look beautiful with his mark on it.

No. I'm not thinking about claiming this beautiful, sly stranger.

"You guess so?"

"Okay, it is your business," you huffed softly. "That man killed a lot of defenseless creatures in the west end of the forest, so I lured him here. And if he didn't take me as bait, I figured a wolf would either scare him off or kill him."

Cunning and smart.

"So you did need my help," he smirked.

"I attacked him just fine without you."

True.

"But if you hadn't, you would've had to rely on me."

"Yes, I would have. Because you're so biiiiig and so strooooong and I'm sooooo helpless," you teased, raising an eyebrow when you purposely lifted your hips to touch his. "Well, you really are big."

His eyes slipped shut, but it didn't stop the blood from flowing south. You were so warm and soft. If he spread your legs a bit more and sheathed himself, he wondered just how tight and hot you'd feel around him. Would you cry out for him or whimper?

"You're also smelly and hairy like a dog," you added.

With a growl, his eyes flew open. Instead of showing fear, you laughed. He was so thrown off by the sound that you were able to use your strength to roll him on his back. The sight of you above him, your breasts lightly bouncing from another laugh, was one he'd later dream about.

"You know the thing about foxes? People always underestimate us," you said with a smile. "Because we're smaller than wolves and so cute. We look almost innocent."

Bucky laughed this time, the sound deep as he brought his hands to your hips to steady you. No other reason. "I know damned well you’re not innocent at all."

He held his breath as you leaned down, your nipples brushing against his chest. "And how would you know that?" you whispered, your lips so close he could almost kiss you.

The scent of blood and death was only a few feet away, but the tempting smell of your pussy had his mouth watering. He had to keep a level head though. He didn't know you. "No one innocent would rip a throat out like that."

He wondered just how many men you lured to their deaths with your act.

The hunter becomes the hunted.

The playfulness faded from your eyes as you sat up. Had he touched on a sore topic? "Sometimes we have to do those things in order to survive," you said, lifting your weight off of him. "Thank you so much for 'saving' me."

"Wait," he urged as he sat up, not wanting you to go away so quickly. That should've bothered him that he wanted you close by. Everything about his pull to you should have. "That's not a proper thank you."

"And what is?" you asked curiously, your eyes moving along his body as he stood up. He wasn't ashamed of his nakedness. If anything, he liked that you saw some of his scars.

"Helping me get rid of this body," he answered, nodding to the hunter. He'd already have to explain to Steve that he assisted in killing him, but he wasn't at all sorry. "And I need to make sure you get back to the border safely."

You nodded after a moment. "Not the kind of 'thank you' I thought you'd want, but I'll help," you said, briefly looking up at the sky and avoiding his gaze. "Don't worry about taking me back. I can manage just fine getting out of here. I'm used to going it alone."

I don't like that.

"I'd feel better if I went with you," he said.

"Fine," you agreed, gesturing to yourself when a breeze picked up, goosebumps rising on your skin. "Just wish I had my red cape to cover up. Unless you don't mind the view."

He licked his lips when you did a spin, giving him a view of every delicious curve of your body. "I don't mind," he admitted.

Hell, he was still half hard just from having you against him on the ground.

"I like you, wolfie," you smiled.

"That's not my name," he said, even if the little nickname made him want to smile.

"What should I call you?" you asked, brushing a bit of dirt off his right arm.

"Bucky," he replied, gently taking your arm before you could walk away. "What should I call you?"

You smiled as you gave him your name and moved in close again. "You can call me little red if you want," you told him, your breath fanning against his ear. "Let's get to work."

Maybe once you finished burying the body, Bucky would convince you to tell him a bit more about yourself. Because he wasn't ready to let you leave his territory yet. Not when he sensed you had no one to go back to. And he had a feeling you weren't quite ready to leave yet either.

Surprise, surprise, I love them already. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[spring-rol1]

I looove bear shifter!price

How it makes sense since he's build like one, muscly with the perfect amount of chub and hairy too.

Bear!Price who shifts into a bear when he notices your stress or just upset. He would always enjoy how you pet his fur or boop his nose.

Bear!Price who I bet would be so good with hugs, a full on bear hug with his hairy arms around you and your head just laying on his chest.

Bear!Price who prefers to sleep naked with you, nothing sexual (sometimes). He likes the feel of another person next to him especially the one he loves. Breathing and living just next to him. If he wakes up earlier than you, he has a habit of staring for awhile.

♡♡♡

Bear!Price who uses his strength to manhandle you into a position he wants. Mating press? His pressing his weighted body onto your folded one to keep you in place, his warm body covering you perfectly.

Bear!Price, who, during his upcoming hibernation, eats twice or thrice his normal food amount and would gladly bring freshly butchered meat for you to cook. After eating dinner awhile, he sometimes request dessert, his favorite? You. Get on the table.

Bear!Price who you have to get use to his stamina during spring, just days after his hibernation. That sleep refereshed something more than his energy and you have to mentally prepare whats coming in to you.

[screamingforests]

Smth smth thinking about reader being an escaped shifter experiment, escaped from the US to hide in Britain

You try to act like a normal civilian, but the urge to shift is building to be intolerable. So why fight it? It's easier to live as a cat anyway, maybe someone could take you in.

What you didn't expect was for 4 giant, bulky, military men to find you. They'd found you in an alleyway near a fish restaurant, searching for scraps. The one wearing the weird mask had been the one to pick you up.

Then, the other 3 rushed over after hearing your yowling. The damn masked bastard had you scruffed!

"I found a cat."

Wow. Brilliant observation.

"Simon, it's a stray."

"I was a stray."

There was a snort, "C'mon Cap, it's kinda cute, isn't it?"

You hiss indignantly, you were not an it! The one with a mohawk reaches out to you, letting you sniff his fingers.

"We do not need a cat, Soap don't touch it. Who knows what it has."

"It's too clean to be a stray, ah doubt it's a stray. Give 'er here, LT."

The masked man hands you over, and you're quick to scramble onto the mohawk man's shoulder, wrapping around his neck. You growl a little in your displeasure, but don't swat.

"See! Docile, little thing, aren't ya!"

[invincibledc]

Shifter!child!reader happily making cotton candy out of thin air with atom eve smiling happy at her protege:

Meanwhile Dick and Mark glaring at each other as they want to prove to who may be the best grayson in the kid’s life:

[dumb-fawkin-bitch]

Ahhhhh 🫶

State of My Head

Your life is pretty good. Run around as a cat, get into places you shouldn’t, and get back out. Occasionally shift back to human to flirt. And on your way again you go. Until you make the mistake of trotting right into a military base and getting caught. 

Eventual Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x f!shifter!reader

Part one | two | three | bonus

[monstersholygrail]

i have been concerningly curious how would fucking a shape shifter feels...maybe he can manipulate one body part...maybe make it feels too big when he goes inside your cunt...maybe he'll fuck you in the body of a person you stared too long earlier... maybe he won't stop until you've tried every skin he can change into...maybe even your favorite idol...

sigh...i told you, it's concerning

Ffffuuuuck, it’s been concerning for me too. Ive been thinking about shapeshifter bf so often for so many things. I have like three draft ideas I wanna write. And now you’re giving me even more 🫵🏻!! It’s an infection!!

It’s ok gimme more hehe.

But seriously you inspired me to write an entire fic with these rambles. So give me all you got, you’re my muse babyyyy.

Think of the possibilities with role play with Shapeshifter bf. Any scenario you can think of and he can fulfill it. AHHH WAIT!!! You’re inspiring me too much dammit, I love you!!

Imagine being with Shapeshifter bf when you finally admit to him that you’re actually a huge monster fucker. Your bf blushes and pouts at you, asking if you don’t consider him technically a monster.

And of course you comfort him and hold him close. But you have to admit to him that what really gets you going is the idea of a huge giant monster chasing you down and pinning you beneath his weight as he fucks load after load into your fertile cunt.

He’s shocked for a moment before something passes over his eye. You can see the bulge forming in his pants and it has to wriggling in place, desperate for him after just talking about the fantasy. When all he says is,

“Run.”

You’re briefly a bit confused before you see your bf start to shift and your eyes widen.

And that’s how you find yourself suddenly being chased by a raging orc, a feral werewolf, or a probing alien. In his excitement your bf can’t seem to lock down a shape.

Then when he finally catches you, his claws sinking into your plump waist as he pins you to the ground with his hips and slams his cock as deep inside your weeping pussy as he can, he still can’t land on a monster.

The overstimulation is pure torture and you fucking love it. One minute he’s pounding you with his giant orc cock and then the next he’s slipping his werewolf knot inside your cunt with every snap of his hips. The tentacles of his alien cock slip even deeper inside you, curling into your wombs like they plan to shoot his eggs right in there.

You’re afraid by now your eyes are permanently glued to the back of your head, your body shaking like your possessed by his demon form. Each pump of his different cocks sending you higher and higher till you swear you’re about to lose your mind.

And when you finally cum you see stars, your being transcended to the next plane of existence. Your screams reach such a pitch that only dogs and hybrids can hear. Your bf feels like his cock is about to explode from how hard you’re clenching down on him as you milk him for all he’s worth.

He doesn’t last long with you squeezing him so right and he pumps you full with buckets of his warm yummy cum.

When you’ve both calmed down he shifts back into his original form and sags down on top of you, both of panting like you might not ever breathe again.

“And that’s why Im the best monster for you. Not any of those quacks,” your bf grumbles possessively in your ear.

You can’t say you disagree with him.

[syoddeye]

you get a new neighbor.

he moves into the flat across the courtyard. same floor, same narrow balcony. a smoker with restless, twitchy hands. you catch glimpses of him through the blinds.

you’ve never been one to keep them open—facing another unit all these years, privacy has been a comfort. but now, often without thinking, your fingers find the cord, tilting the cheap plastic slats just enough to peek through.

unlike you, he doesn’t bother with curtains. either unbothered or proud of his sparsely decorated, meticulously kept space. when he’s home, he spends hours in full view of his windows. sinking into his couch with a controller in hand, headset on. sometimes, not as often, a book. pacing, phone pressed to his ear, wearing a track into the floor.

more often than not, though, he’s maintaining his body. that, he clearly takes pride in. push-ups. crunches. weights. he’s fit. almost always shirtless. almost always in joggers or shorts. a thick pelt of hair across his chest, matching the wild, overgrown mess on his head. whatever cut he once had, it’s grown out strangely—a longer ridge along the top of his skull, like the raised hackles of a dog. it connects to an untrimmed tangle of a beard, hiding what must be a sharp jawline if it matches the body.

you know what it looks like��watching someone like this. if you admitted it to anyone, they’d call you a creep. a pervert.

but you can’t stop.

you don’t even know when your new little habit began. the moment the sun sinks, your lights go off. you sit in the dark, barely moving behind the slats. waiting. watching.

your spine goes rigid, every nerve at attention, when he steps onto the balcony for one of his many smokes of the night. saliva pools on your tongue in anticipation.

a cigarette dangles from his lips, moonlight catching every plane and muscle of his torso. he stretches. his big, broad back flexes as he grips the rail. biceps bulging when he pulls one arm over his chest, then the other, thatches of pit hair poking out.

however, it’s his eyes that draw you in.

bright blue. too bright. a glowing, animalic eyeshine. fresnel lenses, catching and refracting the light. as unnatural as they are alluring. unsettling in a way that itches at the back of your skull—but still, it makes you want to wrench the door open and leap across to him.

the same feeling you get standing at the edge of a cliff or rooftop.

then, he lifts his head. tilts it back until his nose juts into the air and sniffs.

you freeze. glance up at the closed, locked glass door. he can’t.

smoke billows from his lips as his gaze sweeps the courtyard. down at the ground, then scanning the floor beneath you. searching.

a shiver slides down your spine. you will yourself smaller, pressing into the shadows. he can’t possibly know you’re watching, let alone smell you through the walls and windows.

but then, just as you think he’ll go back inside, he turns his head slightly, just a fraction, toward you.

the cigarette burns, momentarily forgotten, between his fingers. his gaze fixes on you, direct and unblinking.

but there’s no way. no way he sees you in the dark.

then he smiles. the barest quirk of his lips. a knowing pull at the corner of his mouth.

he turns, steps inside, and yanks his blinds shut.

your breath catches. the slats slap against each other as you jerk back, heart hammering, blood roaring in your ears. you reach for the cord, fumbling, pulling too hard—yanking the entire thread free with a sharp, splintering snap.

not two minutes later, as you’re still panicking, up on your toes, uselessly trying to thread it back into place—an insistent knock rattles your door.

[nessieart]

дворняга

WC:7.8k

Summary: What if...HYDRA captured you?

Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood, gunshots, mentions of implied SA (but never specified), made up supernatural elements probably.

Italics signifiy speaking in a foreign language

Main Masterlist.

1954

The night air nips at your skin as you creep through the bushes, the only light coming from your now burning house. The smell of smoke permeates the air and rises high up into the moonless night. The orange glow from the flames pouring out of your house cast long shadows from your hiding place. When you reach a better vantage point to see the front of the house, you gasp, then clap your hand over your mouth to stop the scream that wants to bubble up.

There, lined in a row all kneeling in the dirt, are your brothers. Charlie seems to be talking to the men around him, head held high as he glares at the man you assume is in charge. You can't hear what they're saying, but you see the man standing in front of your brothers let out a hearty laugh.

Junior and Benji share a look, and you hear Aiden yell at Charlie to stop. You think you hear him say your name, but the roaring house fire is loud, and so is the blood rushing in your ears.

You notice the cuffs on your brother's hands and forearms, arms tightly bound behind them. Probably to stop them from Shifting, you think. The man in charge bends over to say something to Charlie, and a moment later, they all shout, Charlie hasn't made a move the whole time. You wonder what they said, because in the next moment, Aiden jumps up to lunge at the man, and then a resounding CRACK fills the air. And Aiden falls to the ground unmoving.

The scream escapes you now, but the sound is drowned out as another crack goes off, and Benji falls in a heap next to Aiden.

No, this can't be happening.

One of the men comes up and unfolds a baton, the end crackling violently with electricity, and shoves the end of it into Junior's side. He lets out a strangled scream and slumps forward as the pain passes.

Charlie's head falls forward, shoulders slumping in defeat and looks right at you, hiding in the dark in the bushes.

You scramble back in the dirt and go to get up and run. As you turn to run, you ram into a solid body and get knocked back down in the dirt.

Looking up, a giant mass of a man stands before you, his hair is stringy and long to his chin, there’s a mask covering the bottom half of his face but you’re sure he’s sneering at you. There's black paint or coal smeared across his eyes, and the crystal blue of his eyes shines that much brighter in the firelight from the house. They look cold and distant as he stares down his nose at you. A gleam catches your eye at the fingers on his left hand as they glint in the light from the fire. He clenches his fist, and there’s a mechanical whirring sound. He’s dressed in all black, from his combat boots to his pants and the tactical vest with long sleeves.

How did you not hear him come up behind you? “P-please,” you plead. There’s tears running down your face, making tracks in the dirt that’s smudged on your cheeks. He tilts his head to the side as he looks down at you, inhaling deeply.

“Poydem so mnoy, lepestok,” his voice is deep and gravely. It sounds like he has to force the words out of his mouth. It sends shivers down your spine, and you shake your head at him. He growls as he crouches down to your level, eyes flashing dangerously at you as his brow lowers over his eyes. In one swift motion his hand goes to his hip and he flips a knife through his fingers with practiced ease a few times before he grasps the handle and places the sharp tip under your chin so you can look up at him.

He smells like charred wood and machinery, gunpowder, leather, and dried mint. It reminds you of a cold winter's evening.

“YA ne budu sprashivat' snova,” his knife presses into your chin a little harder, making you whimper, “lepestok.”

“I-I don-don’t kn-know what y-you’re saying,” you tell him softly, afraid to speak above a whisper. “Please, pl-please let me go.” You reach up to touch his hand that's holding the knife, but his silver hand catches you before you can and holds your wrist in a crushing grip. You let out another whimper as he squeezes his fingers tighter.

He hauls you up by your wrist, your feet barely touching the grass beneath you. You bring your other hand up to try and pry his metal fingers from you, but his grip is unrelenting. He picks you up higher and brings your face closer to his, his cold, dead eyes narrowing above the mask.

“Ty poydesh’ so mnoy, lepestok,” he growls out. You would have felt his breath fan across your face if it weren't for the muzzle keeping it in. “Ili ya ub'yu togo, kto ubezhal.”

That last sentence has the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, you tug your arm again, eyes glowing and fangs extending.

“Let me go, or you'll regret it, asshole,” a growl bubbles up and out of your chest, skin rippling as you go to Shift.

Before you can blink, the man with the metal arm grips the front of your shirt and slams you down on the ground hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You're dazed as you look up through blurred vision at him hovering over you. His metal fingers dig into your collarbone to keep you down, and from his back, he pulls out a metal ring. He places it around your neck, and it closes with a deafening shink.

The pain is instant, causing you to arch up and let out a scream so loud it has you seeing spots. Silver, the collar around your neck. It burns into your skin, and you try and claw it off, only burning your hands in the process. The skin around your neck is raw and red within a few minutes, and you sag back into the ground, panting heavily and eyelids heavy.

The metal armed man grunts in satisfaction, pulling you up with him to stand and flopping you over his shoulder. You hang limply in his hold as he treks back to the men near the house.

“Come, enough struggling, Little Petal,” his voice is deep and accented as it rumbles through you.

You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, raw and hoarse from screaming, “f-fuck you,” you croak. All the energy leaves you as you're carried across the grass, the heavy boots of the man carrying you thump loudly in your ears.

He comes to a stop and dumps your body on the ground unceremoniously, and when you loll your head to the side, you see Junior and Charlie still kneeling side by side. Junior has a few bruises littered around his face and body, and Charlie has a gash along his hairline that's trickling blood down his face and into the dirt. They both give you pained smiles, eyes filling with tears that soon spill as they look at you.

“Why didn't you run, Flowers?” Junior husks, eyes bouncing between your own.

“Co-couldn’t leave yo-you,” you manage to say. The men around you speak in that foreign language as you talk to your brothers.

“Where is the other Shifter, Soldat?” A man sneers, his accent heavy. Eastern European, Russian, you think.

“Gone,” is all the metal-armed man says. You peer up to him, his eyes are trained ahead, unseeing and blank. In the next second, the man in charge steps forward and strikes him across the face with the back of his hand. The other men around snicker to themselves. The man, Soldat, barely moves, just his face turning with the force of the blow, his long, stringy hair fanning across his face, and you think he's staring down at you now. His face is impassive, and he turns it slowly back to face forward again.

“Where?” Charlie whispers to you, eyebrows creased in worry.

You give him a smile, you hope, though it's probably more of a grimace, “I hear there's Sunshine out in Shiprock,” you speak the code you know only your brothers would understand. A look of relief fills their faces. Your muscles tense as a new wave of pain goes through you as the silver collar settles on your skin. You crawl towards your brothers, trying not to focus on the lifeless forms of Aiden and Benji.

You almost reach them, fingers barely grazing Junior's knee when a boot between your shoulder blades shoves you back to the ground. You whimper at the pain from the collar and the full force of the person standing on you.

“Sdvig. ili umeret',” the man above you sneers. He presses his boot down harder into you, and you yelp, hands reaching and fingers digging into the dirt. The silver collar digs into your skin more, and you struggle to fight through the pain.

You can barely make out that your brothers are yelling at the man to stop and that you can't understand what it is they want. After several moments or hours, you can't tell, Charlie's voice reaches your ears. It's frantic, and he's trying to be soothing, but you can tell he's panicking.

“Shift, he wants you to Shift, Flowers! Do it!”

“Can't,” you rasp, “silver.”

“Tell her to change! Or one of you dies!” The Head man says, and when you peer over to Charlie and Junior, they're both pushed to the ground as well. The man over them cocks his gun and aims it at Junior's head. “Sdvig!”

You try with every fiber of your being to Shift, but the pain and the silver won't let you. “I can't!” You shout, tears pile in your eyes, and you can barely see when the man above your brothers shoots Junior twice before the light leaves his eyes. Your skin ripples as you hear Charlie let out a deafening roar. He screams he's going to kill every last one of the men in the clearing. Threatens them with such violent deaths that if they lay another finger on you, they'd regret it.

You're yanked up by the collar, and when you look up, the metal armed man is holding you. His eyes are empty as he stares back at you, and you let out a low growl. It hardly escapes your throat, but the warning is there.

“Shift, Little Petal, or he dies,” the Soldat speaks into your ear. When you look at Charlie, his eyes are glowing in anger. And then you look at the bodies of your brothers. Lifeless and unmoving, tiny pools of crimson paint the dirt.

You were all happy and laughing not even an hour ago, and now your house was a crumbling pile of flaming ashes.

“Why me?” You ask him, and when he doesn't answer, you look at the Soldat again. His brow is pulled low over his eyes, a question in his gaze. Did he even know why?

The man standing over Charlie laughs. It makes your blood run cold. “Because you are female, my dear,” and the implication isn't lost on you. Your heart rate kicks up, and you look at Charlie. His eyes have faded, and he stares at you in shock.

He says your name softly, like a prayer, pleading, “fight them, every step of the way. You fight. Don't let them-”

Crack

—--

You don't remember the pain, and you don't remember much of anything after the gunshot went off.

You do remember sinking your teeth into the man who shot your brothers. The warmth of his blood coating your mouth as you tore at his jugular. His body lay in a bloody heap beneath your paws. Your face, chest, and paws stained crimson as you look at the rest of the men gathered around. Fear and shock mar their faces, all except Soldat. There's a glint in his eyes. He seems amused even under the muzzle. He's the only one that could hold you back, but he all but threw you at the man now dead at your feet.

The remaining men around are all shouting in Russian for the Soldat to do something. They take cautious steps back to put themselves behind the metal armed man and far from you. He crouches down and extends his metal fingers to you. His stare is still blank, but it's not as cold as it was before.

“Come, they will not hurt you, not with me here,” Soldat says, his voice low and gravely. When you don't make a move toward him, he tries again. “they do not speak English. Only he could,” he nods his chin to the dead man at your feet, and his hand still extended to you.

A man in the back speaks up, voice wavering and uncertain, “zastavit' yeye podchinit'sya!”

You hear the Soldat growl and stand, his metal arm whirring as he clenches his fists. He says something back to the men, and they all flinch and hastily make their way back to the SUVs parked a few feet away. Except for one, he catches by the collar of his shirt and tosses him at your feet.

When you look up to the Soldat, he gestures to the man trying to scurry away from you, “The boot on your back,” he says calmly.

You growl, head going low and eyes flashing. You lunge and sink your teeth into the man's shoulder, he yells in pain, and you tighten your hold and rip away, blood spraying out onto the ground around you. The man gurgles for a second and is dead in the next.

You've silently crept your way to stand by the metal-armed man, head coming up just below his chest. His flesh hand comes up, and his fingers dig into your fur. The silver collar around your neck is a dull ache compared to the pain in your chest, heart shattered in a thousand pieces.

Your eyes close at the contact, you may have killed the man responsible for your siblings' deaths, but you can't bring yourself to look at them again. So when the Soldat takes a step towards the vehicles, you don't hesitate to follow. There's nothing left for you here, and getting them to leave lets Leon get far away from the death and destruction left behind.

—

You've lost count of the days, or months, or years maybe, that have passed since you followed Winter. It suited him. It was a better name than Soldat, in your opinion.

The silver collar around your neck doesn't pain you like it used to. The scars along your collarbone and neck never seem to heal.

The thin mattress and even thinner blanket sit in the corner of the cage they keep you in. Cage is a relative term. At least a cage has a view. the one you're kept in is just a concrete room with no windows and one door.

You only see Winter on rare occasions. He tried to protest once but was quickly punished for speaking out. You went to intervene, but the collar had a shock system in it, and you collapsed to the ground in a heap and was pulled out of your Shifted form. You lay naked and in pain as the aftershocks of the electricity coarsed through your system.

You only Shift to your human form when they tell you to. The electric shocks let you know when, any other time you're Shifted. It's easier that way, easier to deal with the handlers that were assigned to you. No one talked to you anyway. The men around the compound only sneered at or talked about you.

The heavy metal door to your cell opens, bright fluorescent light streaming into the dark room, and you shuffle up onto all fours. But the man at the door isn't your usual handler. He seems nervous and won't meet your eye. He shuffles on his feet, holds up an electrified baton, it crackles violently, and you pad out of the room and wait for instructions. You know the drill by now, do what they say or else. The or else usually results in some form of pain.

“khodit, dvornyaga,” (walk, mutt) You're not sure when you picked up on understanding Russian, but you could understand the basics. Maybe you have been here a long time. You shake the thought out of your head as you follow the man down a few corridors, twisting this way and that. You've ascended a few flights of stairs, and when he opens the next door, the room is vast and cold concrete. In the center of the room sits a strange contraption, surrounded by monitors.

On the opposite wall, there's another set of heavy metal doors. They roll open and in staggers Winter, fog rolling along the floor as he exits. Two men in uniform enter next, making him walk forward, but his legs give out, and he collapses to his knees, panting heavily. There's a man in a lab coat that follows behind and a final man with a maroon beret on his head. The handler, you think. There's a folder in his hands as he goes to wait by the contraption.

You make your way over to Winter, tail low but swishing slightly. You nose over his hair and down his face and into his neck, he brings his flesh hand up and digs in your fur. His hair is wet, maybe a little frost bitten like he was laying in a heap of snow. You put yourself under his arm, and he uses you to lean his weight on so he can stand again. Winter’s hand lazy finds your head and pats once, huffing out a heavy breath. He's barefoot, wearing the bare minimal tact outfit; a black vest and pants.

You felt like you hadn't seen him in years, but there he stood just like the first time you met him. Tall and broad and menacing. His shoulders straighten, and he cracks his neck from side to side.

You glance into the room he just left, and you see some kind of chamber. The door's ajar and fog is rolling out of it in a steady stream. You can smell the chill of it in the air, like the scent of the first snowfall of the year right before it happens. What was that machine? It makes a chill run down your spine.

When you go to pad back towards Winter, you're stopped by the man who collected you from your cell. He stands in front of you with the baton pointed at you, his face trying to be stern, but falls short when you growl at him.

“Time for you to Shift, Mutt,” he sneers. He raises the baton to your face, and it crackles in anticipation. Your ears go back, and you lower your head as another growl leaves you. You take a step back when the man advances.

There's panic in his eyes, frantically searching around the room as his heart kicks up a little.

“Leave her. She will comply after she witnesses this,” a man across the room calls. He's standing with the two men in matching camo and rifles in their hands. He ushers Winter towards the strange contraption and forces him to sit.

“Come closer, little mutt, and witness first hand total compliance,” the maroon beret man calls, a smug look on his face. The men with rifles secure Winter's arms down with bindings and then the metal arms above hum to life and shift down on either side of his face.

Winter makes eye contact with you for the briefest of seconds before the ends of the metal arms clamp around his face. One side completely obscured his face and the other framing his cheek. They tighten so he can't move his head, and the lab coat in the back flicks a few switches and you can hear the electricity hum to life and in the next second you see the metal armed man tense and scream in pain.

The sound makes your fur stand on end, the pain and agony leaving this man sends your mind reeling. What the hell were they doing?

After a moment, Red Beret opens a red book with a star on it, matching the red star on Winter's shoulder. He starts a series of phrases in Russian. You can't hear it over the rush of blood in your ears or over Winters screaming. And then the machine shuts off, metal arms retracting and raising away from the man in the chair.

He convulses with the aftershocks of the electricity, head twitching slightly. The Red Beret says one final phrase, and Winter's eye twitches before he looks up at his handler, eyes cold and distant.

“Good morning, Soldier,” the handler says as he places the red book down.

“Ready to comply,” the Soldat answers. His voice is rough as he forces the words from his mouth. Another shiver runs up your spine, but you take a few steps closer. The Soldats head lowers slightly, eyebrows furrowing low over his eyes, and his gaze cuts to you before you can take another step.

“I have a mission for you. Sanction and extraction. No witnesses,” the handler picks up a manilla folder, thick and full of papers, and holds it out for the Soldier to take. Without breaking eye contact with you, he takes the folder and rises to his feet. Your hackles stand on end, and your stance widens, head low as a growl escapes your chest.

Something about the way the Soldat moves is off; different. This isn't the same man you've known. He's cold and menacing. Things he's never been around you.

“And take the mutt with you,” the handler says, amusement in his voice. A pile of black tact gear is thrown at your feet, and in the next second, a harsh jab of the electric baton is shoved into your side. You yelp and go to dodge the next jab but a metal arm grabs you by the collar and holds you aloft, the electricity runs through you violently and the aftershocks make your skin ripple and a shudder runs through you. The Soldat drops you, and the collar turns on, and it forces you to Shift, and you let out a strangled yell through clenched teeth. He steps over your prone form and walks out of the room.

“Hurry after him, little mutt,” the handler says as he folds his arms across his chest. “Or do you want to try again?” He glances at the machine behind him, and your eyes widen. You scramble to grab the clothes and hastily put them on as you run to catch up to Soldat.

It's a one-piece bodysuit, and after you shove your arms and legs into it, you zip it up. The all black suit is a little baggy on you, but it fits well enough. The pants are cargo like, large pockets on either leg. The top is like a vest, the sleeves are cut off at the elbow and the neck is long and baggy, you can pull it up over your head and it covers the bottom half of your face as well.

You catch up to the Soldat, he puts in a code for the door, and the heavy metal of the doors creak and groan to life as they open just enough for you both to fit through.

The sheer cold hits you in the face, and a full blast of ice-cold wind forces its way through the door. You're keenly aware that you aren't wearing shoes as you follow the Soldat outside. He seems unaffected by the cold as he crosses the walkway and to a small aircraft, it's a little bigger than a helicopter, and plane-like. The ramp in the back is already down, and he climbs aboard, not even sparing you a glance.

When you finally shuffle your way inside, it's a little warmer, only due to the fact the wind isn't blowing inside. To your right, the Soldat stands at a rack of supplies, you notice he pulls a pair of boots out and shoves his feet in them, then a few knives find their way into various parts of his suit. He shifts over a little and extends his hand out to you, a pair of combat boots that look like they'll fit you in his hand.

You grab them before he can drop them, pulling them tight to your chest.

“Tha-” you cough and then clear your throat. It's been a very long time since you've had to use your voice. “Thank you.” It's rough and doesn't sound like you, but it comes out all the same. He nods and makes his way to the pilot seat, strapping in and plopping the manila folder down on the seat next to him.

“Read it,” he spares you a glance before he starts the aircraft and begins the preflight measures. When you sit next to him, he pauses, “aloud.”

When you open the file, it's all in Russian. No surprise there, but you can't read it. There's a photograph of an older man, a candid shot of him exiting a car. His hair is white, cropped short on the sides and fluffy on the top. His mustache is also white. And then you're struck by the fact that this photo is colorized.

“This,” you clear your throat again, “this photograph is in color,” you show him the image, and his eyebrows furrow, eyes moving along the photo, the paper and then your face. It's like he doesn't seem to grasp the concept. “It's in color,” you say more to yourself. Your fingers trace along the photograph, the lines on the man's face, down his chin and stopping the suit he wore. He was very well dressed.

“Ho-,” you cough again, this one longer than the last. “Howard St-Stark…” It's mostly mumbled to yourself, but the Soldat can hear you. “Born 1917, in New York… head of Stark Industries…. Worked on Projects PEGASUS, and REBIRTH, and co-founder of SHIELD. A lot of this is in Russian, I can't read it.”

He hums in acknowledgment, pressing one final button and then a switch, and then pulls a lever, and the aircraft takes off. It's faster moving than you thought it would be. After 20 minutes, the Soldat engages the autopilot and then turns toward you with his hand out. You hand him the folder, and he reads through it, eyes scanning over every detail. He takes a few pictures out of the folder and gives them to you, one of the target, Stark, another of a metal briefcase, and another of the car you assume he'll be driving.

“Those men, they want what's in the briefcase?” You ask, flipping through the pictures again.

He hums again, “HYDRA.” And when you give him a questioning glance, he nods to the pictures and motions to the folder, “HYDRA wants whatever is in that case. A serum. It says here, retrieval at all costs,” he reads a few more pages before he puts the folder down, having gathered enough information.

“Do you remember the night we met?” Curiosity getting the better of you, and when he doesn't respond, you look up at him. There's a blank look in his eyes and his brows lower. He searches your face for a moment, as if trying to place it. He shakes his head no, and you deflate

After a few silent moments, he looks at you out of the corner of his eye, “Dvornyaga,” your head whips around to look at him, “those scars. How…?” The question hangs in the air. Did he really not remember how you got most of them?

“I remember when I was 9 years old, and I climbed the tree in the backyard,” you’re staring out the window at the clouds that pass, running your fingers over the newest scar you can’t heal from. “Mama and my brother, Aiden, always used to worry I’d fall out and hurt myself. Papa used to laugh and say, ‘Well at least she’ll learn to land on ‘er feet,’” you let out a sad chuckle. “I did fall, sprained my ankle, and got a really big gash on my leg ‘cause I landed on a rock.” You turn to him and lift your pant leg, “It healed in a few days, and the scar never showed.”

The Soldat’s brows are pulled together, the question in his eyes as they scan up your leg - which is now littered with scars - and back to your face.

“The silver stops me from healing all the way. Everything they do to me stays on my body like a morbid reminder. This is a reminder of what I am and how I got here.”

You pull the zipper of your tact suit down to your navel, exposing the skin and standing to show him the biggest scar you had. Its jagged edges to the left of your belly button is about 6 inches long, “You shot me with a silver bullet once, all because they told you to do it. It was after you brought me in, the night they killed my family. The doctors dug it out with silver tools. Sometimes, I can still feel them burning me from the inside.”

—

It was late in the evening when you and Soldat reached the interception point. Hidden behind a treeline from the main road, you sat behind him on a motorcycle. One he stole from a bar a town over. He may have broken someone's nose to get it.

“I still can't believe it's 1991…” You shuffled the newspaper in your hands. On the corner near the bar was a newspaper dispenser, and you didn't hesitate to take one as you walked by it. “So many things have happened. So many things I've missed…” your hand scratches at the silver collar around your throat absent-mindedly. You've gotten so used to it that it's like a second skin.

“Where are we again?” You've asked this question multiple times and have received no answer each time.

He sighs heavily, hands tightening on the handlebars, “It doesn't matter. Now be quiet,” he hisses the last bit out in Russian. A sign that tells you he's fed up with you talking so much.

Another hour rolls by, and you're about to say something else when a car drives by. You recognize it as the same one from the photos.

“Hold on,” is all he says in warning before the motorcycle comes to life and Soldat speeds away. You scramble to hold on, newspaper flying into the wind and arms circling his waist and gripping tight. He speeds up to the car quickly, pulling up to the passenger side he winds his metal arm up and punches the side of the vehicle, a tire blows out as the car struggles to stay in its lane, but fails and crashes violently into a tree.

The Soldat skids to a stop and backtracks toward the car, shutting the bike off and stepping off. The skin from your elbows to your fingertips ripple, fur coming forth, and claws extending as you follow behind the metal armed man. He forces the trunk of the car open, the metal straining with the force. There lies the briefcase, and when he opens it, 4 or 5 pouches of glowing blue liquid are inside.

“All of that,” you gesture to the car wreck, “for these?” You look up at your companion, and he just gives you a silent side-eye. He shuts the briefcase and goes to grab it when you hear a car door open and someone falls out with a pained grunt. You both share a look before you round the car.

There on the ground in a bloody, disheveled heap is none other than your target, Howard Stark. Soldat makes his way over to the injured man. You right behind him, claws bared. Stark is whimpering in pain, and when the Soldat fists a chunk of silver hair in his hands and pulls Stark to a kneeling position.

“Pl-please, my wife,” he grunts heavily, and his eyes focus up to the Soldat, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “S-sergeant Barnes?”

Barnes? Who..? And then the Soldat brings his metal fist up, but you stop him before it could make contact. He glares at you, and if it were anyone else, they'd be running away as fast as they could and putting as much distance between him and them. But you aren't afraid of him. You give the Soldat a pleading look, and he drops his arm but doesn't let go of Stark's hair.

Stark winces as you peer around your grumpy companion, his hand going up to try and gain purchase on the hand, gripping him too tight. He eyes you warily, grunting in discomfort. You're sure he has a few broken ribs, maybe a sprained arm or leg. It's definitely a broken nose.

“He called you Sargeant,” you say. “Do you know this man, Soldat?” He doesn't respond, only glaring down at you when you step closer to Stark. When you get close enough to smell him, you take a few inhales, circling around the back of him and stop. He doesn't smell unpleasant, all things considered. He smells musky and metallic; probably from the blood. But there's something else on him, something pleasing, and it makes you hum.

“Ho-Howard?” A strangled cry comes from the car, and your head swivels around at the sound, eyebrows lowering. Another person?

“My wife, please, please,” Stark pleads, and you make your way around the car to the passenger side. The door is jammed shut, and you give it a few hard tugs before it finally creaks free.

The woman, Stark's wife, is bloody and broken but alive. She looks at you with wet eyes, big and round, as she chokes out a sob. Her cheekbone looks shattered, maybe a broken arm and a few bruised ribs. When you lean in to rip the seat belt from her, you smell it again, that pleasing scent that was also on Stark. You hum quietly, claws easily tearing the seat belt from her body, and she sags. You catch her and her fingers flex in your forearms.

“What are you doing, Mutt?” Soldat asks, letting go of Stark and stopping you in your tracks.

“What - your arms,” she lets out a quiet gasp. Oh yeah, fur, oops. You hum again, nodding when she looks up at you. You shrug and help her out of the car. She leans all her weight in you, and you support her around the car toward her husband.

“Helping. They're hurt, Winter,” he flinches at the name, and you go to move around him, but he stops you again. A growl starts low in your chest when he doesn’t move.

“No witnesses,” his voice is low and demanding, but you won’t be swayed. There’s something about these two that tugs at something inside you. You have to know what it is. The woman lets go of you, and you let her crawl towards her husband, and they embrace, hands fleeting and worrying about one another.

“No one has to know,” you reach out to him and place a hand on his chest, but he flinches back out of your reach. “I’ll stay. Take the package and leave,” you say for only him to hear. “HYDRA will think they died, maybe me too…”

“Did you say HYDRA?” Stark asks. He and his wife are still kneeling on the ground, and he straightens up a little when the Soldat turns to glare at him. “you've been with HYDRA this whole time?”

“You know him. You called him Sergeant,” You crouch down to their level and give him a reassuring smile.

Stark nods, eyeing the man over your shoulder, “Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th. He is - was - Captain Steve Rogers best friend. He was my friend, too. Barnes fell from a train in the Swiss Alps, and Steve was devastated. We all thought he died," Stark looks up at the Soldat again, and you turn to look at him too. “I'm sorry, Bucky.”

“Who the hell is..?” You mutter to yourself. The Soldat, Barnes - or whoever he is - starts breathing heavily, eyes wide and unseeing as he takes in Stark's information. “Winter..?” You stand and take a cautious step towards him, his eyes cut to you, and there's something in them that makes you pause.

You've heard of Captain America and his sacrifice. But you don't know the details, or maybe you forgot them. You take another step towards him and stare up into his eyes. They seem distant and lost.

“Bucky?” You ask hesitantly. His eyes soften slightly.

“Dvornyaga,” he brings his metal hand up to the side of your face, palm resting on your neck. In one swift movement, his fingers clasp around the collar and crush it. A small jolt runs down your spine, and then the pieces of offending metal are in scraps on the ground.

Your eyes glow bright, and it’s like a thousand pounds has been lifted off your shoulders. The tears well up big and fat in your eyes before you laugh, digging your fingers into the tact vest of the man who has freed you. The tears fall freely when you blink and look up at him, “Why did you do that?” You hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck and squeezing as tight as you could. His arms stay at his side, but he can smell you now, and he remembers. Maybe only a sliver of a memory, but it’s there.

“Petal,” he says softly.

“Stay,” you say into his neck, but he shakes his head no. He pulls you away and walks toward the trunk of the car wreck and shuts it, leaving the briefcase behind, and then takes out his pistol. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end, and you shuffle in front of Stark and his wife. He raises his gun and shoots, shattering a security camera not even 10 feet from you.

“I'm not him,” he says quietly, “don't think I ever will be. But I can try.”

He nods and makes his way to his motorcycle. As he speeds away, you have a small thought that you hope to see him again one day. Maybe you could find out who this Sergeant Barnes is, or was, together.

——

Howard and his wife, Maria, were wary but thankful that you intervened and saved their lives. Admittedly, you also had a part in their crashing, but they had other things to worry about at the moment.

When you offered to run and get help, Howard had worried it would take too long, but you assured him you were very quick.

“Let us go with you,” Marisa insisted. “Our son, he'll be so worried, please?”

You aren't sure how you've kept your humanity for this long. If the year was right, and you're sure it is, you've been mostly Shifted for 30 years. Give or take, with the way HYDRA kept you and tortured you, you weren't sure the details. You noticed your mannerisms were more dog-like now than you used to be, but Howard and Maria didn't seem to notice as they limped together while you guided them back to a main road.

“You stopped Sergeant Barnes from killing us. Why?” Howard breaks the silence after a while. “Why? Aren't you with HYDRA as well?”

Why did you? You just had a feeling? Because you could smell something on him? You don't even know what it is.

“I- I don't know,” your brows pinch together as you wait for them to catch up to you. There’s headlights heading towards your group, and you step into the street with arms raised. The car pulled to a stop, and you ran to the driver's side. “please, my - they - uh, they need help. There was an accident. Can you take them to the nearest hospital? Please.”

The man behind the wheel relents, and you help Howard and Maria into the back of the car, shutting the door behind them. When you step back and walk away, a voice calls out to you.

“Wait, aren’t you coming?” Maria has a look of worry on her face, and when you go to tell her no, tears gather at her waterline, and you sigh.

—

You sat in the ER waiting room, Howard had been checked out and sat with you while he waited for his wife. His arm was in a sling, suit jacket long forgotten and slung over your shoulders. His face was cleaned up only slightly, small amounts of blood under his nose remained, but at least it wasn’t broken anymore. There’s a dark bruise forming on the side of his face where it met the steering wheel, his brows pinch together as he studies you, hazel eyes flicking around your face.

“I never did get your name,” Howard says quietly, fingers fiddling with the strap of the sling around his other arm. You hum softly, tugging his jacket tighter around you. It smelled like him, and Maria. But there was just something else there, hidden in the fabrics of the jacket you couldn’t put your finger on.

A young man comes barreling into the ER waiting room, skidding to a stop and heaving gulps of air as he spins around frantically. His dark brown hair is a poofy mess on his head, like he’s been pulling at the roots. The dark red hoodie he wears has the sleeves pulled up over his elbows, and dark gray baggy sweats sit low on his hips. Howard also notices the young man and goes to stand, but lets out a grunt of pain, and you shoot up to help him stand. He puts his uninjured arm over your shoulders, you place a hand on his ribs, he takes a limping step forward, and you guide him.

“Tony,” Howard calls out, a little strained. The man - Tony - whirls around at Howard’s voice, and his eyes go wide as he rushes toward you both. “My son, Tony,” Howard says to you, and you nod. Tony comes to a stop in front of his father, and you let him go to take a step back. Tony is tall, not as tall as Howard, and they both tower over you.

“Dad, what the hell?” Tony says in a panic. He takes in the sight of Howard, reaching his hands out when Howard staggers a little. “What the hell happened? Where’s mom?” He cranes his neck to look around the waiting room, and his eyes find you, eyes narrowing slightly, “who is this?”

Howard places a hand on his son's shoulder, calming him with a quiet hush, “she sav - helped your mother and I. There was an accident,” he pats Tony's shoulder and speaks over his protest, “we're fine, just a few scraps and bruises. Really.” A minute later, Maria is wheeled out, her wrist has a brace on it and the gash on her forehead has a few stitches, but she looks a lot better than she did when you arrived. You sigh in relief.

“Tony,” Maria sounds relieved, “oh my boy,” There's tears welling up in her eyes as her son rushes to her side, helping her out of the wheelchair and hugging her carefully.

When Howard makes his way to his family, you feel an ache in your chest. Sure, you're happy they're together, and you did what you could. But you miss your family, miss your brothers, and maybe you miss Bucky as well.

You slip the jacket off your shoulders and drape it over a chair, and make your way towards the exit. There's nothing left here for you now. Might as well find somewhere to lay low for a while. Outside there’s a well-dressed man leaning against an expensive looking town car.

“Hey? Hey!” A voice calls out behind you, and when you turn to it, it’s Tony rushing towards you, “wait, please.” He stops in front of you, heaving a sigh and running a hand through his hair. “I just uh, I wanted to thank you. For helping my mom. And my uh, my dad,” he rubs the back of his neck. “so, thanks. Really,” he sticks his hand out, "I'm Tony, by the way.”

You look from his face, to his hand, and back again. “I'm… I-“ your brows pull together. Why couldn’t you remember your name? The only word that comes to mind is the one HYDRA gave you. And you can’t tell Tony your name means mutt. You let a whine escape your mouth when you can’t think of anything, a tear escaping your eye as it slides down your cheek.

“Oh God, don’t cry, miss, I’m sorry!” Tony places his hands on your shoulders when you almost crumple in on yourself. He brings you a little closer when you let out a sob, and you cling onto the front of Tony’s hoodie. He has one arm slung around your shoulders, and the other hesitantly pats your head, trying to be soothing. You take a deep inhale, and you freeze. Something in you seems to right itself, like everything was only ever leading to this moment, and you lean your head back to look up at Tony’s worried face.

He smells like everything right, like sunshine after it’s rained forever. It’s the scent you couldn’t place on Howard and Maria. It makes your heart stutter and your stomach fuzzy. Everything is warm, and it overtakes you, moving up your chest to your face. He smells like home. And you haven’t had somewhere to call home in so long. The ache almost overwhelms you.

His brown eyes scan your face, and he brings his hand up to wipe away a few tears. His finger tips leave a trail of sparks in their wake as they move along your face. Did he feel it, too? Tony’s lips part slightly in surprise, and his eyes seem to light up when he drags his eyes to yours. Those pouty pink lips curve up at the edges, and he's looking at you like you're not real.

“You,” you breathe out, “you're mine.” It’s whispered into the space between you, and Tony leans his forehead against yours. Your fingers tighten into his hoodie, and he hums.

“What is this? Why does it feel like,” Tony brings a hand up to rest over your heart. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, his nose brushing against yours. “like everything suddenly…”

“Like it all makes sense now?” You ask, heart leaping into your throat when he hums again as his nose brushes against your cheek, and he grins.

“You smell like flowers.”

****

Thanks for reading! Feedback is welcome, like comment and rb! <3

[bunny-jpeg]

hibernation

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, bear!price, size difference/kink, breeding kink, hibernation, shifter au, established relationship, living room sex, doggy style, rough sex, pregnancy

hefty lover, that was the only way you could describe your lover. the bear shifter known as john price. and you were his lovingly perfect mate.

price's paws were big, he was well over a head taller than you and when he showed you how strong he was, it made your knees wobble a little. "c'mere, lovie. come to your big bear." and like a moth to a flame, you got into your lover's arms. you held onto his hairy, strong forearms and felt protected by your grizzly lover.

you knew when the leaves started to change colours that your mate was going to get ready for the hibernation months. it meant being out in the woods more and acquiring a healthy diet of salmon and berries. fatty foods to bulk up during the long sleep.

you had your own food from the grocery store in town, you couldn't live off the diet of a bear. but, your mate happily fished and made sure he could make it through the winter. as a result of the bulking and the heart diet, your mate got much heavier and harrier. that didn't help your sexual attraction to him.

he started to notice your neediness when he kept catching the scent of your wet pussy. it only made him need you more. the attraction was mutual.

he knew soon he was going to be in a deep sleep, and he wanted you as much as he could get before the hibernation started. it all came to a head a week before his sleep started when he needed his mate more than anything.

"c'mere, lovie. come to your big bear." he palmed himself through his sweatpants. he was in a tank top and flannel bottoms. you could see the bulge in them and how hairy he was all over.

he looked like a protector, a provider. your big bear.

price soon had you over the solid wood coffee table that was your mate's project over the summer. he was painfully hard as he carefully took off your own sweatpants and your panties (they had little bears printed on them) and he admired your cunt.

he like his mate's pussy, a little fuzzy like him. he didn't need you plucked, shaven or waxed. he needed you the way nature intended. he cooed, "there she is, the showstopper." he cupped your warm cunt for a moment before he went to pull down his bottoms and get out his cock.

his briefs were under his heavy balls. he stroked his cock, he knew he was big. he could scare any man and make any woman drool with what was between his legs. but you weren't scared of anything, and only you were allowed to touch his cock.

you took your mate perfectly.

he rubbed his length up against your slit and chuckled, "ah, they're kissing, petal." he smeared his precum up against your needy sex.

you moaned, "please, honey." you felt the pleasure race up and down your body. his lust was infectious. his love was addictive.

only a wild woman could love a bear, and you were more in love with price than anyone else could be.

"mmm, you feel amazing and i'm not even in, beautiful." he licked his lips, he was hungry for you. his darling missus. when he sank into you, you felt heaven splash over you.

you gripped the edge of the table for support, some kind of support to hold onto while your larger lover moved against you with heavy thrusts.

price had been holding out on breeding you. it was wasn't easy for a human to carry a shifter baby, especially a bear one. and keeping up with price along was a task in itself.

but with you bent over the table, he couldn't help himself. he wanted a reminder of him as you got through the winter. he continued to thrust up inside of you. he was encouraged by your sweet moans, it made him hungry for you. he moved you up and down his cock, he needed you with a heated want.

you were a perfect little thing, his little human. his delicate little mate that he needed to protect. to love. to breed.

"that's it, love. you take me so fuckin' well. made perfect for me, you have the most beautiful cunt i've ever had the pleasure to fuck. you're heaven sent, a gift from mother nature herself. my personal goddess." he groaned while his mouth ran like a motor.

you whined in response as you felt your mate press his hairy chest against your back. he got his shirt off because he really pressed you up against the table. no wonder he spent the summer making sure it was strudy enough. a good place to lay out his mate and fuck her until she saw stars.

"that's my beautiful, girl." He said, "you look great under me. next time, i take you, we'll be face to face so i can watch you as you cum. my fuckin' angel, all mine." he continued to fuck you. he watched your ass bounce with each of his movements.

"please, john! ah! fuck, your cock feels so good." your eyes squeezed shut from the rush of pleasure in your core. he knew exactly how to make you feel good.

no other man ever made you cum before you met john price. on his first try he made your back arch and your toes curl.

your pulse quickened as the pleasure continued to build in your core. you loved being price's mate. to love him was a journey that you enjoyed. your pussy wetness drenched your thighs as price continued to fuck you from behind.

price knew how to be gentle, but where was the fun in that? not when he could bounce you on his hard cock at a feverish pace. pleasure bubbled in your soul as you felt on cloud nine.

such a rough lover, using size, experience and age to his advantage. he had you under his mercy. but that didn't matter to you, not when the shocks of pleasure bloomed in your head. not when you found the ache for your lover being filled. the bear shifter knew how to make heaven on earth. you held on tightly to the edge of the table as the movements grew faster. his cock hit against the softest parts of you.

"I love you."

"i love you too."

you whined a little and your feet dug into the patterned rug under the table. you bit your bottom lip to try and not be too loud. but price loved it when you were loud.

he wanted to hear every noise you made, it only turned him on further. price loved everything about you. you made him feel more wild than anything else, including turning into a bear. your allure had him on his knees begging for more. with you he could always be greedy, he was a possessive bear with you. territorial.

you didn't last much longer. not with such a heat pumping through your body. you were gasping with an insatiable want as he made sure you came before he did. you held onto the table tightly as you came. the clench in your body as you felt the inferno of lust around you.

price maintained his pace and fucked you through your orgasm. your heightened noises only sent him over the edge as his pace started to stagger. with a few heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. he held your hips up with his large hands to make sure it got all the way into your womb.

when he stropped, he wasn't finished. he had less than a week to make sure you didn't forget your mate over the long winter months.

-

price made a gruff noise and turned over onto his back. his eyes open, it wasn't quite spring yet. he raised his head and scratched his beard. he looked around the quiet bedroom with bleary eyes and noticed you not in the bed next to him.

even though you couldn't hibernate, you had been away from the nest for too long. he heard a small crash from the kitchen and he was up on his feet. he lumbered over and saw you by the oven with a tray of brownies in your hand.

you looked almost guilty at the sight of your mate standing there. you said, "sorry, big bear."

price smiled sleepily, "it's alright. you eat up for you and the cub." he came over and gave your soft bump a nice rub, "come back to bed soon. can't sleep without you." and gave you a kiss on the top of your head before he lumbered back to bed. back to sleep until the snow melted <3

[girllblogging777]

hi congrats on 1k!! can i please request a cinnamon tinged tale with mattheo riddle with a scenario where they have a fight and go to bed seperate but they both can’t sleep without each other!!

𝑈𝑁𝑆𝑃𝑂𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑀𝐼𝑆𝐸𝑆 ˚ ༘✶

↳ bf!mattheo riddle x reader (angst, fluff)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.5k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 :you and your boyfriend can’t sleep without eachother, but you had an argument

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

mattheo’s dorm was unnaturally quiet tonight. no whispers, no soft rustling of sheets, no stolen glances or quiet giggles. just silence, cold and deafening. he laid flat on his back, arms crossed behind his head, his jaw tense as he stared up at the dark ceiling of his room. the argument replaying in his mind on an endless, bitter loop.

he exhaled sharply through his nose. maybe he was an idiot like you had told him. scratch that. he definitely was. your words, heated and full of hurt, had ricocheted off the walls like a spell gone wrong. and instead of deflecting, instead of softening, he’d snapped back with the kind of sharpness he reserved for enemies. not for you. never for you.

but now you were gone. well, not gone-gone, but you weren’t here. you had stormed out of his dorm, muttering something about needing “space.” space. mattheo didn’t even know what to do with space.

his mind wandered to you. where were you now ? back in your own bed, curled up with that damn blanket you refused to replace no matter how many times he teased you about it? where you crying? did you hate him?

the ache in his chest tightened, like a hand gripping his heart. he turned to his side, punching the pillow beneath him in frustration. he needed you, your scent of cinnamon, your quiet murmurs before sleep, the way your hand would instinctively find his beneath the covers. without you, the room felt emptier than it had any right to.

across the castle, you sat cross-legged on your bed, staring out the window. the moon hung low, bathing the grounds in silver light, but your thoughts were anything but serene.

why had you said those things? you hadn’t meant to snap at him. it wasn’t his fault he was reckless, it was just who he was. you knew that, knew it better than anyone. but still, watching him flirt with danger, walking that fine line between thrill and disaster, it drove you insane. you cared too much to stay silent.

you sighed, hugging your knees to your chest. the bed felt too big, too cold without him. even on nights you two argued, you would always ended up tangled together, legs overlapping, breaths mingling. it was impossible to stay away from him and not to break the castle’s rules by sneaking into each other’s rooms past curfew. but tonight, you were alone.

minutes stretched into hours and you kept tossing and turning, thinking about him. at the same moment, mattheo swung his legs out of bed, running a hand through his messy curls. he didn’t care if he’d get caught. he didn’t care if you were still angry. he needed to see you.

suddenly, your bedroom door swung open and you turned around, eyes widening. “mattheo ?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. he stood there, unsure of what to say “i uh… i can’t sleep…”

“neither can i,” you admitted softly, watching him intently.

he stepped closer, his hand twitching at his sides. “i’m sorry, baby. i was a dick. you were just trying to look out for me and i lashed out, it wasn’t fair.”

your heart clenched at his honest words and you looked up at him, “i shouldn’t have pushed you, matt, i just worry about you too much. and sometimes, i feel like i care more about you than you do”

his brows furrowed and he finally reached out, his hand softly brushing against your cheek. “i do care. about me. about us. but i’m just… stupid sometimes.”

you couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh, leaning into his touch. “yup, you are.”

a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “does that mean i’m forgiven ?” you pretended to think a moment before answering, sighing. “only if you stay.”

and he didn’t need to be told twice.

moments later, you two were tangled together in your bed, your head resting on his chest as his fingered traced lazy, absentminded patterns on your back. neither of you spoke at first. the quiet felt sacred, too delicate to shatter. but mattheo couldn’t let it end there, not when he had so much to say.

“i don’t ever wanna go to bed mad at you again.” he murmured, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. his fingers stilled against your back, waiting for your response.

you tilted your head up, your chin resting on his chest as your eyes met his. “me neither,” you whispered back, “i hate how it feels, matt.”

he nodded, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin in the dark. “i know, love,” he admitted, “it feels wrong. everything feels wrong without you. i’m sorry i made you feel like i don’t care.” he paused for a second and you waited, silent.

“i care, baby. i care so much if scares the hell out of me sometimes.”

you could see it in his eyes, the way his walls had crumbled entirely for you and how painful that felt for him. mattheo riddle, who always unshakeably confident, was laying himself bare for you.

“i know,” you said in a steady voice. you reached up, your hand curling around his wrist. “but i’ll keep worrying about you, you know ? that’s not gonna change..”

he chuckled, the sound now and warm in the quiet room. “i figured, love. i don’t deserve you.”

“damn right you don’t,” you teased, your lips twitching into a genuine smile. then your voice softened “ but that doesn’t mean i’m going anywhere.”

the tension in mattheo’s body eased at your words, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you as to shield you from the world. you felt the way his lips brushed against the top of your head, a soft gesture that made your heart flutter.

“i love you,” he said quietly, the words slipping out as naturally as breathing.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as your heart pounded against your chest.

for the first time that night, the heavy weight between you lifted and the two of you stayed like that, your breaths syncing and limbs tangled in complete and utter peace. because no matter how messy you were, how much you clashed or stumbled, you always found your way back to eachother.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : tysm for this amazing idea ! tell me if you wanna be tagged and check out my 1k celebration for more !

@redeemingvillains @leona-hawthorne @shiftingwithmars @tateshifts @rose-of-the-grave @clar2aa @iris-qt @sp7-mr @deadghosy @deadsnakey @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithleah @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @yikesitslush @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf @reidol0gy @kenjikishimotoswifey @2dloveshp @hisparentsgallerryy @riddlesgrl

[galatially]

MY BABIES

The Pull of Gravity

Pairing: Shifter!Bucky Barnes x Shifter!Female Reader Summary: Bucky has a chat with Steve about his new friend. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Shifters, flirting, tension, teasing, slight possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: More Wolfie and Little Red! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by the amazing @firefly-graphics .❤️Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

One of the most important rules of the eastern territory was that nothing and no one was allowed to disrupt the sanctuary of the land. It was a place for Bucky and the other shifters in the pack to shut out the rest of the world and be themselves without judgment or fear. They deserved a home with peace and security.

Watching you in the garden, he wondered if you were going to shake things up.

What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t know you. Other than that you're a little badass fox who can help in getting rid of a body. And spirited and beautiful and-

"Talk," Steve said.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at his best friend's authoritative tone. Growing up, Steve's growl was worse than his bite. That was only because he was so small. A late bloomer, his wolf form was one of the largest and strongest he had ever seen. And he was an affectionate punk.

"I'm not a dog. I don't speak on command."

Steve sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. "Would you mind explaining why there's a fox playing in our flowers? I'm sure there's a good reason and I'd love to hear it," he said, not as entranced with you as he was.

Good. One of us needs to be logical.

It took a moment for Bucky to respond since he was too busy watching you roll around, bringing a small smile to his face as your red fur blurred through the petals. “A hunter was tracking her near the border of our land and she handled it before I stepped in,” he said.

"The body?"

"Buried and we covered our tracks," he told him. Even if someone managed to find the man, no one would be able to trace it back to them. It wasn't the first time they had to put someone in the ground.

“She was alone?” Steve asked curiously. Bucky nodded in confirmation. “What was she doing there?”

“The hunter was killing smaller animals in the western territory, so she lured him here. She figured a larger creature could handle him if she couldn’t,” he explained, his gaze soft as he watched your tail flick.

"Smart strategy, if not dangerous. What if you hadn't stumbled upon her? She could’ve been hurt," he said.

Bucky had a hard time not smiling as you sat up to stare at his friend. "I think she can handle herself," he admitted, as much as he didn't want to. He liked to think you needed him in some capacity.

"Did she follow you here?"

“No,” he answered, clearing his throat a little as he crossed his arms. “I may have asked her to come here.”

Steve gave his friend a thoughtful look. He was a man who thrived on doing the right thing, but he also didn’t want to compromise the safety of the place they made their home. "Why did you do that?"

Bucky glanced at you before he looked away. “I offered to get her safely back to the border after we buried the body, but…” he trailed off as he thought back to the conversation he had with you.

"Well, that's that," you said, brushing the dirt off your hands. You weren't afraid to get your hands dirty as the two of you buried the man, along with his bow and arrows. "Finished up quicker than I thought."

"Not eager to leave, are you?" he asked casually, wiping his head with the back of his hand. He wasn't ready to take you back.

"As much fun as it is to put hunters in the dirt,” you winked, stretching your arms above your head with a hum. He wasn’t sure how he managed to concentrate without staring at your chest. “I figured you'd want to lead me back so I can be on my way and you can go home quicker."

"The shifters I live with are used to me being out late," he said, stretching a bit himself. "I'm sure they'd like to meet you."

"I doubt that," you said, looking behind you. "Ready?"

Bucky's brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't they want to meet you?" he asked.

"Because I'm a stranger who killed a hunter in your land," you said, your expression blank. "Can we just go?"

"Okay," he said, ignoring the sinking feeling of you brushing him off. He understood that some foxes by nature preferred to be on their own, but he thought it would be nice for you to meet others like yourself. "So, what is your way once you get past the border?"

“Why? You planning on paying me a visit?” you smiled. "Take a roll on the dirt with me?"

In more ways than one.

"I'd offer a roll right now if we didn't need to get going," he smirked. As much as he didn't want to, he could see you itching to leave. “You said you came from the west, but is that where you’re living?” he questioned, curious to know even though you had no reason to give him an answer.

“It’s where I’ve been staying, but I'll likely move on soon.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped, hoping you wouldn't go too far away. “When are you going to leave?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” you snapped, putting your hands on your hips. You didn’t back away or appear guarded, but the slight defense in your voice gave away that you didn’t want him prying. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

Bucky shrugged a shoulder, but it felt anything but casual. “You said you were used to going it alone, but maybe I want to make sure you’re safe. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah, it is. Because it's always ulterior motives or people looking out for themselves,” you said, kicking a bit of dirt toward the grave with a flash of fury in your eyes. He wondered what happened to give you that mindset, but knew it wasn’t the time to ask. “I’ve been on my own for years and I’ve been just fine, thank you."

"The thing is, you don't have to be," he said, taking a slow step forward as surprise filled your beautiful eyes. He had a feeling that if he moved too quickly or invaded your space, you’d run. And it wouldn’t be the fun kind of chase. "I don't know your story and you don't owe it to me, but I do want to help if you need it."

"I didn't mean to snap at you, okay?" you said, your tone softer as your arms dropped to your side. He kept still when you moved close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from your body. "I can sense that you aren't a bad guy and I appreciate that you want to help, but I’m not your responsibility, Wolfie.”

“I know you’re not,” he said, his hands itching with the need to touch you. “But maybe I’m not ready for you to go yet, Little Red.”

"Why is that?" you whispered, placing your hand on his cheek as his heart raced, your scent invading his senses once again.

Bucky couldn't say he felt a pull toward you. It would sound crazy. He had to word it carefully. "I just want to get to know you a bit more and, maybe, there's a part of you that wants to get to know me, too."

Your soft expression shifted to something a bit more sultry. "Not ready to let me go and you haven't even had sex with me," you teased.

Bucky didn't kiss you, but he did lean in close enough to feel your breath mingle with his. "If we have sex, you won't want to let me go."

Cocky, but true.

"I knew I liked you, Wolfie," you smiled, your playful demeanor back in full swing. "And maybe I wouldn't mind seeing your place, if you're really offering. It doesn't mean I'm staying though."

Maybe I can convince you to stick around.

"Let's go then."

"But what?" Steve asked.

"I just thought it would be better if she stayed here for the night instead of letting her go off by herself," Bucky replied, not wanting to say more on the subject as you continued to stare at them.

"But she doesn't want to meet the others?"

"Maybe after she gets some rest," Bucky said, though you weren't acting tired at all. "I'm trying not to overwhelm her."

“Does she realize we’re talking about her?”

Bucky smiled when you barked, loudly. "Yeah, she knows."

The blonde held up his hands when you barked again. “I mean no harm. I’m just trying to get some answers.”

You stretched before you trotted over to Steve’s feet and looked up at him, not blinking as you assessed him. Bucky wondered what was going through his friend's head. The guy was massively built, like him, but you stared him down like his size didn't matter.

"I'm Steve. It's nice to meet you," he said, reaching a hand out to pet you before he decided against it.

Smart move.

Seemingly satisfied with what you saw after a moment, you went to Bucky and carefully climbed up his leg and side. Steve’s eyebrows shot up, not bothering to hide his surprise as you gracefully curled in the brunette’s arms. It had to be quite the sight.

"Are you not going to shift?" Bucky asked.

You yawned and closed your eyes like you didn't hear him.

Why aren’t you showing Steve your human side? Are you nervous to meet everyone? Or are you just being careful?

“I’m not just going to stand here and hold you while we talk, Little Red,” he said, a slight growl in his voice. Instead of jumping out of his arms or cowering, you huffed and lightly nipped his forearm. It didn’t hurt. If anything, he liked it. “Fine. I’ll hold you.”

Steve covered up his laugh with a small cough when you nuzzled against Bucky with a satisfied hum. “Little Red, huh?”

“It’s what she said to call her. Well, what I can call her,” Bucky said, stating your real name.

"She seems to like you," Steve mused.

You gently barked, a happy sound, and moved your head to his chest.

"I like her, too," he said, running a hand along your fur as he glanced down at you, your eyes crinkling as you stared back.

Fucking adorable and probably two seconds away from biting my chin.

"And she's just staying for the night?"

Bucky didn't give him an answer as you tilted your head. He didn't want to say "yes" and make you think you weren't welcome. He also didn't want to say "no" and pressure you to stay.

As if you sensed Bucky's dilemma, you sprang free from his hold and landed gracefully on your paws. He stepped back to give you room when your bones began to shift, your red fur gone within moments as your naked human form appeared. Steve averted his eyes as you stood, the gentleman shifter he was since he didn't know you. He was thankful he didn't have to growl at his best friend to look away.

Even though I have no claim over you.

"Nice to meet you, too, Steve. I like this place," you said, giving Bucky an amused glance when Steve continued to look off in the distance. "Will he not look at me? I'm sure it's nothing he hasn't seen before."

"Just being polite," he said.

"I'm not after you bit me," Bucky said, wondering how much lust was in his eyes when he saw your nipples harden in the breeze.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his heated gaze. "Relax. It was a love bite and you enjoyed it."

Just a little.

"And, Steve, I'm curious. Will anyone get mad if Wolfie and I fuck in the flowers?" you asked, giggling when he chortled.

"Um. Natasha might ask that you put new seeds in if you make a mess of it."

Really, Steve?

Glancing below Bucky's waist, you smirked, a hint of arousal in the air. "Oh, I'm sure it'll be a mess. And I doubt he'll have any trouble filling a hole with seed," you said. Before Bucky could drag you over and pin you down, you turned and went back to the garden with a swish of your hips. "But maybe later. For now, I'm making you both flower crowns."

Fucking tease. You're going to drive me crazy.

"I'm not wearing a flower crown!" Bucky called after you.

"Yes, you are!" you called back.

Yes, I am.

"She's, um, bold," Steve commented, clearing his throat again as he finally turned his head. "And did she call you Wolfie?" he asked, not covering up his laughter this time when Bucky snarled.

"Tell Sam and I'll rearrange your face," he threatened.

"I'd like to see you try," Steve said as his laughter died down. "She can stay as long as she wants."

"Just like that?" Bucky asked. Was he sure? He knew it was a lot to have someone unfamiliar there.

"Just like that," he nodded. "You like her and I trust your judgment. And, like I said, she seems to like you, too. I have a feeling that doesn't come easy to her."

"Thanks," Bucky said. It meant a lot that he was willing to take a chance on you. "And I have that same feeling."

"I wonder why that is."

Bucky watched as you chose a few flowers, your eyes narrowed in concentration as you made a crown. "I don't know, but I hope she knows she's safe here."

His home was his kingdom. He had freedom and his friends who were practically family. But as you looked over at him with a smile, he didn't realize he was missing a queen to run along beside him.

Until now.

Oh, these two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[witchywithwhiskey]

a halloween trick and a halloween treat

pairing: cat shifter!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you wake shortly after midnight on halloween, thinking it must've been your rescue cat disturbing you. but when you discover a naked, sleeping stranger in your bed, you're in for a much bigger surprise.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), monsterfucking, shifter dynamics (mating, purring, a nonhuman cock), sorta fated mates, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple sucking, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, dry humping, light bdsm dynamics, lots of check-ins, biting, dirty talk, alpha kink, praise kink, pet names (koshechka [russian for kitty]), aftercare, very fluffy happy ending

word count: 12.9k

a/n: i had the idea for this fic so many weeks ago i don't even remember what inspired it, but i thought it might be a fun halloween fic! i struggled a bit with this fic, especially the magic and justifying bucky's decisions, so i hope it all makes sense!! suspension of disbelief is your friend with this one 😅 anyway i hope y'all enjoy!! ♡

halloween fics masterlist

Something was…off. 

It was the middle of the night, the waxing moon shining brightly through the curtains of your bedroom, an October chill in the air, and you’d been woken by… something. A sound, maybe? 

It wasn’t uncommon for your rescue cat to wake you up in the middle of the night by knocking something over or playing with one of the many toys you’d gotten him. Sometimes, he’d even wake you up when he gently padded onto your bed in the middle of the night to snuggle into your body over the covers.

You smiled sleepily at the memory of having been woken up plenty of times in that manner since you’d found the Russian Blue trapped in a bucket behind your apartment building the previous November. You’d named the cat Bucky, which you could admit wasn’t the most creative idea you’d ever had, but it fit the mischievous feline. 

At the very least, you certainly understood how he’d gotten himself trapped in that bucket, since he’d gotten himself stuck in any number of places around your apartment in the year since you’d brought him home, yowling for help until you rescued him. 

In fact, you sometimes thought he got himself stuck on purpose for the sole reason of getting your attention—and the soothing snuggles you offered him afterward, cooing soft words about how he was your precious, handsome man in his soft little ears. 

But that October evening, almost a year after you’d brought the cat home from the vet with a clean bill of health, you strained your ears to listen to the dark stillness of your apartment. You couldn’t hear the telltale padding of Bucky’s paws, or feel his warm body curled up next to yours. 

Something still felt…different. Off.

Thinking about it more, you thought you felt a weight on the other side of your queen-sized bed. When you shifted, and the covers caught on something, as if they were being weighed down by something, you thought you must’ve been woken by Bucky jumping onto the bed and curling up to sleep.

Your eyes were still closed and you were snuggled deep beneath your blankets, but you pushed an arm free, reaching across your bed, your fingers seeking the soft fur of your cat. But when you searched the spot just below the other pillow you kept on your bed—in the hopes that you’d one day have a partner to share your bed with—you didn’t feel Bucky.

You felt bare skin. Warm, bare skin. Warm bare skin covering a broad, muscled back. 

Pulling your hand back with a hiss, you wrenched your eyes open and found that it wasn’t your rescue cat in bed with you—it was a man. A man with his broad back turned to you, his soft brown hair messy on the other pillow and his spine curved like he was curled into himself. 

And when your eyes trailed down the length of his back, you realized with a gasp that this stranger was naked. In your bed. In the middle of the night. 

What the actual fuck!? 

You sucked in a sharp inhale, your lungs filling as your body prepared to let loose the shrillest scream you could manage, because what the fuck!? 

The man must’ve been woken by your gasps or your movement, because before you could make another sound, his head rolled over on the pillow and he blinked at you.

His eyes…

For a moment, they seemed to shine yellow in the moonlight—so much like Bucky’s when you were snuggling in bed before falling asleep. It stole the breath from your lungs, and your scream died in your throat. 

As you watched, the man’s eyes shifted into a calm, piercing blue, and you had the odd feeling you recognized them. It almost looked like they were the same shade as your Russian Blue’s, even if they looked so different, so human.

The man’s eyes flickered with confusion and his soft lips pulled down into a frown. He reached a hand out to you, as if wanting to comfort you, but jerked to a sudden stop, his gaze falling on his own hand and staring at it as if it wasn’t his own. 

He looked almost as disturbed as you felt finding a strange man sleeping naked in your bed.

The moment he’d looked away from you, you’d filled your lungs with more air, preparing to finally scream for help, and the man’s gaze flicked back to you. Just before you could scream, the man moved swiftly, rolling over and throwing his body on top of yours. 

His strong arms caged you in beneath the blankets and his broad, warm chest pressed down on yours, keeping you pinned but not crushing you. The man’s hand cupped the back of your head and pressed your face into the curve at the base of his neck, effectively muffling your scream into his smooth skin. 

It all happened so fast, you didn’t have a chance to feel scared, and a second later, a purring sound filled your ears. Vibrations seemed to come from the man on top of you, making your entire body hum pleasantly from the sensation traveling through the blankets that were trapped between your bodies. 

It was remarkably comforting…and oddly familiar in a way you couldn’t place. It made you feel…safe. 

So safe that your body, which had been tensed with fear, slowly relaxed. All your muscles loosened until you were a melted puddle of pleasant tingles. A dazed smile teased the corners of your lips and you nuzzled the man’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin. He smelled like something wild, like the night and the moon. 

The purring tapered off, and without the sensation of the vibrations reverberating through your body, you tesned again. It came back to you that you were pinned beneath the blankets of your bed by a strange, naked man, who’d somehow broken into your apartment in the middle of the night. 

You began to thrash beneath the cage of the man’s broad chest, kicking your legs and flailing your arms to try to dislodge him, but he was a solid weight on top of you. 

In fact, if he wasn’t a strange, naked man, he’d make a pretty good weighted blanket. But as it was, fear was making your pulse pump hard in your veins—that is, until you heard his voice. His first words.

“It’s me,” he rumbled, his words barely discernible above the purring that started again from his chest. His voice was deep, rough, gravelly, like he hadn’t used it in a long while. “It’s Bucky—your Bucky.”

The breath stalled in your lungs and all thoughts of screaming died a quick death. You blinked past the man’s shoulder, staring up at your ceiling, trying to process what he’d said. How could this man be your cat, Bucky?

The orange glow of the streetlight was filtering through your curtains, joining the bluish hue of the moon, casting your room in dark, multihued shadows. It was late October—it was Halloween, if you remembered correctly, since it must’ve been after midnight.

It was the time for spooky things, and you were probably more inclined than most to believe in the fantastical, but you couldn’t seem to wrap your still sleepy mind around the fact that there was a strange, naked man in your bed and he claimed to be your pet cat. That just…it couldn’t be real. Right?

The man kept purring, and the longer you thought about it, the more peculiar it seemed. Men didn’t purr like that. Like a cat trying to soothe a frightened kitten. But that’s exactly what he was doing—and you were the frightened kitten in this scenario, which didn’t bother you as much as you would’ve thought. Because the purring did feel and sound very nice…

But still, he couldn’t be Bucky. That would mean he was somehow able to shift between human and cat form, and you didn’t care how many romantasy novels you read about shifters falling in love with humans, they couldn’t be real. They just couldn’t. 

Even as you thought that, and told yourself you knew what was real and what was fantasy, the fact that the man was also your pet cat was the only thing that made sense. It was the only explanation for why his purr sounded so much like Bucky’s, why his eyes had looked so much like Bucky’s, why his warm, wild scent reminded you so much of Bucky. 

“B-Bucky?” you whispered into his shoulder, your voice shaky and uncertain. You were so quiet, you didn’t know if he’d heard you. But his purring softened, and he pushed up enough that he could hover above you. You saw his face properly for the first time.

And…oh. What a handsome face it was.

Two piercing blue eyes framed a straight nose, leading down to a pair of perfectly soft-looking lips. His jaw was broad and sharp, softened slightly by the thick, dark scruff that was almost long enough to be a beard. In the moonlight, you could see patches of silver streaking through the dark brown of his scruff, and you ached to rake your nails through it.

Instead, you flicked your gaze to his brown hair, which was longish and falling into his face in the most charming way. But even as you wondered how it’d feel to run your fingers through the man’s soft hair, your eyes wandered back down to his eyes, which were staring at you warily. He was watching you closely for your reaction, but you were too stunned by his handsomeness to do more than stare back. 

“Are you going to scream again?” he asked gruffly, his voice still raspy from sleep or disuse, you couldn’t be sure. 

You took a moment to think about his question, really think about it. If you were honest with yourself, you were starting to believe the man was, somehow, who he said—Bucky, your pet cat transformed into a human. It was hard not to consider it, especially when you were staring up into his eyes that looked so much like Bucky’s that it gave you an eerie sense of déjà vu.

But the rational side of your mind reminded you that he could still be a lunatic pervert with eyes that just happened to look like Bucky’s. He could’ve been stalking you long enough to know your pet’s name, and could be trying to lure you into a false sense of security to…murder you or something. 

 So you narrowed your gaze on him.

“Maybe,” you finally answered. “Depends on whether you can prove you are who you say you are.”

He nodded like he wasn’t surprised by your answer and looked away, his eyes trailing over your room. There was something about the way he looked at your pile of not-clean-but-not dirty clothes and the mess on top of your dresser that made you think he knew the landscape of your bedroom almost as well as you did. 

Which was, decidedly, not like a stalker pervert who’d never been in your room before. 

“First,” he started in that deliciously gruff voice of his. “Can you tell me if it’s Halloween?”

You huffed a sound that was halfway between surprise and frustration. You didn’t understand why he was delaying. You wanted him to either make you believe he was Bucky, or convince you he wasn’t so that you could get on with screaming and calling the cops. Feeling him laying on top of you was beginning to feel far too comforting for your liking.

“Yeah,” you answered, after a moment of thinking about the days. “I mean yes, it definitely is.”

The man looked a little crestfallen at your answer, his lips pulling down into a frown. You were so preoccupied with the way his soft mouth looked perfectly kissable amidst all the rough scruff on his jaw that you almost missed his muttered words. 

“I must’ve lost track of the days,” he said to himself, shaking his head with disappointment etched all across his handsome face. 

The urge to comfort him, to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him close so you could bury your face in his chest and inhale his comforting, wild scent was strong, and it made you restless. You were frustrated with yourself, with the way you were waiting quietly for this strange man to get his bearings when you should’ve been demanding answers.

Unable to stop your frustration from boiling over, you wriggled beneath him impatiently, trying to buck him off. But you didn’t move his bulky form even a bit. And there was absolutely no part of you that found that attractive, that liked that he could pin you down and hold you beneath him with his sheer weight and strength. 

The purring emanating from the man’s chest picked up again, his body pressing you deeper into your soft mattress. He shifted a little, and if you weren’t mistaken, you felt something twitch against your belly, something that had you glaring up into his stupid handsome face.

“Tell me who you are and what you’re doing in my bed right now,” you hissed through snapping teeth, hoping you came across fiercer than you felt—which was like a spitting kitten for all the strength you had in comparison to the larger man. 

A slow, tempting smile spread across the man’s face, his purring stuttering like he was holding in a laugh. Despite yourself, you had to work to hold onto your anger, which wanted to abandon you in light of the stranger’s charmingly appealing grin.

“You’re adorable when you try to be threatening,” he cooed, still grinning at you. He was so close that his scent enveloped you, and his purr still vibrated softly through your body. It was all you could do not to relax and give in to the strange man’s charms. 

Then, to your great surprise, he ducked down and nuzzled your cheek with his own, his scratchy scruff roughing over your soft skin in an affectionate gesture.

It was so achingly familiar, it made your heart squeeze in your chest. 

It was so much like how Bucky would rub his sweet little face against your cheek and the underside of your chin when he was cuddling with you. You’d seen plenty of TikTok videos about how clingy male cats could be with their female owners, and that was exactly how Bucky acted. He was so affectionate, always rubbing himself against you and staring up at you like you were his whole world…

A surprised puff of air escaped your lungs, along with a shocked little whimper. The man must’ve heard you, because his purring picked up and he shifted so his mouth was right next to your ear.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmured, his voice gentle and genuinely remorseful. “Will you let me explain—please?”

It was the man’s final word, the strain in his hoarse voice, as if he was begging for his life, that did you in. With a disgruntled sigh, more at yourself than anything else, you said, “Fine.”

The man lifted his head and stared down at you, his piercing blue eyes raking over your face—and a soft affection that had your heart thumping harder in your chest. There was uncertainty in the gentle twist of his mouth and, as you watched, he took a deep, steadying breath, as if preparing himself to jump off a cliff. 

“I’m a shifter,” he said bluntly, his gaze watching you sharply. When you only blinked up at him, he went on. “I can turn into a gray cat—a Russian Blue, to be specific. Sound familiar?”

A smirk flirted around the edges of the man’s mouth as he raised his brows, as if prompting you to see the connection between what he said he was and your pet cat. However, you refused to be charmed by him, so you pressed your lips into a firm line and narrowed your eyes at him, telling him wordlessly that you still didn’t quite believe him. 

He huffed an amused laugh and went on.

“Halloween is the one day of the year I can’t stay in my cat form,” he explained patiently, his expression open and honest. “It’s something about the thinness of the veil on this day, it forces all shifters to walk the earth in our human forms.”

There was a beat of silence as you processed the man’s explanation. He really did look so earnest, and you couldn’t ignore all the similarities you’d already noticed between him and Bucky. The purring, the nuzzling, the eyes…

“So you’re my cat?” you asked dubiously, your eyes still narrowed up at him, mouth pursed in a skeptical frown. “Bucky?” 

The man nodded, hope transforming his face. But then he paused, tilting his head to the side as if considering your words more closely. 

“Well, yes—but my name isn’t Bucky.”

Your frown deepened. Embarrassed heat bloomed in your cheeks at the realization that you’d not only named the handsome Russian Blue you’d rescued from a bucket so unoriginally, but that he’d been a shifter who had a name of his own. 

“What is it?” you squeaked, trying to tamp down on your humiliation. 

“James Barnes,” he said, as he studied your expression. Something about the way a playful grin was spreading across his face told you that you weren’t successful in hiding your embarrassment from him. “But I like Bucky, too,” he said, ducking his head down to murmur in your ear, “Because it’s what you call me.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart flipped in your chest at the implication of his words, but a pleased warmth was flooding through your body and making you melt beneath his comfortably heavy weight. It took all your self-control not to purr right back at the strange man—James, or Bucky, or whoever he was. You still weren’t sure if you believed him.

“Kind of convenient that you can’t shift right now and prove you’re telling the truth,” you pointed out, trying to get the conversation back on track and get the undeniable proof you needed. You were surprised to find you wanted James to prove he was really Bucky. It would be…nice. 

At your words, the man sighed, leaning up so you could see his face while he carded his fingers through his hair in a sign of frustration. You couldn’t help the little stab of jealousy as you watched, wishing it was your fingers sifting through his soft strands. Maybe pulling a little bit, tugging him down to kiss you…

You shoved the thought away and focused on him as he began to speak.

“I know,” he huffed, a displeased frown on his face as he stared off to the side. Shaking his head to clear away whatever he was thinking about, his gaze refocused on you. “I had a plan.”

“A plan?” you echoed, unsure what he meant by that. 

“I was going to slip out before you woke up,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck as a sheepish smile curved his mouth. “And then bump into you when you go get your coffee—like you do every morning.”

“Ok, stalker,” you mumbled to yourself, a little disturbed by how well the man knew your routine. A ripple of fear passed through you, but it dissipated when James huffed a self-effacing laugh. 

“I know how that sounds,” he said, looking down at you, his blue eyes glittering with affection and his mouth curving into a fond smile. “But it was hard not to notice you going out every morning and coming back smelling like coffee and sunshine and happiness,” he said. “That’s why I wanted to meet you—really meet you—there, somewhere that made you smile.”

James shifted his arm, his hand cupping your face gently and his thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth, his eyes staring at that spot, like he was picturing your smile. It was hard not to melt at the poetry of his words and the soft way he was looking at you, but you soldiered on with your interrogation of the strange man.

“What were you going to do after we met?” you asked, your voice more breathless than you would’ve liked, but you couldn’t help it. Not when James was looking at you so intensely. 

“I was going to buy your coffee for you, strike up a conversation,” he said, his voice faraway, almost dreamy as he kept staring at your mouth. “Do things the right way.”

At that, your brow furrowed and your lips tipped down in a confused frown. That seemed to snap the man out of whatever daze he’d been in, his eyes flicking back to yours. 

“Do what the right way?” you asked. 

“You know…” he said, regarding you like he was trying to figure out if you were being deliberately obtuse or if you really didn’t understand. He must’ve decided you really didn’t know what he was talking about, because he went on. “Dating you, wooing you, telling you about what I am after you know me—the real me.” 

Your heart did that annoying little flip again, but you couldn’t help it, not when a man as handsome as James was talking about wooing you. Still, you weren’t going to let him off the hook just because the man—who may or may not be your pet cat (but probably was)—had a romantic side to him.

“Yeah that sounds like a better plan than letting me wake up to you sleeping naked in my bed,” you said dryly, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“I know,” he huffed, pulling his hand away from your cheek and scrubbing it down his face as he groaned in frustration. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you were supposed to trust me. I had a plan.” His final words were bitten out through clenched teeth, and you could practically feel his annoyance radiating off him. 

“Mmm,” you hummed in acknowledgement, wanting to comfort him but not allowing yourself to give in to the urge. Not when you still had so many questions. “So if today is the only day when you can’t change shift at will, why have you been living as my pet for almost a year?”

For the first time in your conversation, Bucky’s face shuttered and his expression turned guarded. His eyes darted away from you and he rubbed a hand over his scruff, the soft, scratchy sound filling your quiet room. 

For a moment, you desperately wanted to rub your cheek against his scruff, to nuzzle him the way he had you, but you squashed the idea as soon as it flitted through your mind as you waited for him to answer your question.

Bucky’s gaze drifted back to yours, and the walls he’d put up moments before seemed to come down just as fast as he stared into your eyes.

“A pretty girl took me in and fed me and kept me warm,” he rumbled, his voice low and deliciously gruff as he raked his eyes over your face. “She let me sleep in her bed, and curl up with her. She let me comfort her when she was sad, and smiled just for me when she was happy.”

The way Bucky was looking at you, his gaze filled with so much naked affection, stole the breath from your lungs. You didn’t know when you started calling him Bucky in your mind, but you realized you truly believed that he was who he said he was. He was your cat, transformed into a human.

“What was I supposed to do,” he went on, a small smile curving the corner of his mouth. “Shift right in front of her, and scare the fuck out of her, then ask her out?” He laughed quietly, shaking his head ruefully in answer to his own question. “I wanted to do things right.” Cupping your face gently, he stared deep into your eyes. “Besides, I liked being yours.”

Happiness burst like fireworks in your heart. “You…” you trailed off, needing to swallow past your dry throat and your thumping heart before continuing. “You liked being mine?” you asked, needing to hear him say it again for some reason you couldn’t understand. It seemed too unreal that he could like being your cat more than he liked being able to live his life as a free man. Or shifter.

Bucky’s eyes slowly swept over your face, taking in your parted lips and your hopeful gaze. He seemed to be able to read you like a book, and you found you didn’t mind that so much, not when Bucky’s mouth was gently curving into a smile that was deeply pleased with what he saw in your expression. 

“I liked being yours,” he repeated for you, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through your body, settling deep in your core and making a warmth bloom that had everything to do with the man in your bed. “And I wanted you to want to be mine—to like being mine, too.”

He watched you for a long, silent moment. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought he was holding his breath, waiting for your reaction, though you were still too stunned to give him one. When he realized this, he spoke again.

“Please tell me I haven’t ruined things.”

The hushed desperation in his tone was your undoing.

Your arms pushed against the cocoon of blankets you were trapped in, and Bucky lifted himself up higher to let you pull free. He was watching you warily, like he was half expecting you to use your arms to push him off you. 

Instead, you lifted your hands and cupped his face, tugging on him gently until he lowered himself back down on top of you. His weight felt more familiar and comforting than it had any right, and you had to force your request from your lips. 

“Tell me something only you’d know, Bucky,” you whispered, your own thinly veiled desperation in your words. You already knew in your heart that he was Bucky—your Bucky—but you needed something more definitive to quell the fear and doubts in your mind. “Please.” 

He stared at you for a moment, something like hope and excitement swirling in his piercing blue gaze. When he spoke, his voice was gruff, full of emotion. 

“When you think I’m sleeping, you whisper secrets in my ear,” Bucky said, his eyes briefly trailing down to your mouth like he couldn’t help himself. But his gaze flicked back quickly to yours before continuing on. “You told me how annoying your coworker is—Agatha, right? And how you wish your boss appreciated you more.”

You were silent and still beneath Bucky, shock rolling through you and leaving you stunned. Bucky was right, you did have a habit of talking to your cat, whispering in his ear when he was curled up in your arms or on top of your chest, telling him all the things you didn’t say to anyone else. 

It was slowly dawning on you that the man really, truly was Bucky. But he seemed to take your silence as uncertainty, and so he went on. 

“You told me how you get sad and lonely sometimes,” Bucky rumbled, his arms shifting so he could cup your face in his big hands, his thumbs brushing gently across your cheeks. “You told me how you wished someone would hold you the way you held me.” 

Slowly, he lowered himself down on top of you, as if still waiting for you to push him away. Instead, your arms wound around his bare back, your fingers pressing into his skin and clinging to him while he nuzzled his scruffy cheek against yours. You returned the gesture, nuzzling him back.

“You told me how much you want to fall in love,” he murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your skin, making you shiver. “And how afraid you are of getting your heart broken.” 

Lifting himself up to look at you, you could see the pain and desire churning in his eyes, and you could hear it in the way his voice cracked on his last word. It all seemed to finally loosen your tongue.

“Bucky,” you whispered in a thick voice, tears threatening to fall with the sheer amount of emotion flowing through you. There was shock, of course, but also so much wonder and happiness. “It really is you,” you said, marveling up at the man above you, lifting your hands to trace the lines of his handsome face.

His eyes closed, like he was savoring your touch, and a purr kicked to life in his chest while a small smile curved the edges of his mouth. It was a mouth you were suddenly aching to kiss. And you couldn’t, for the life of you, come up with a reason why you shouldn’t. 

Just as tentative as he’d been, you leaned into Bucky, your hands tilting his face down to yours while you raked your nails lightly through the scruffy hair on his cheeks and jaw. You brushed your lips against his, so softly it could barely be considered a kiss.

You felt the big man above you stiffen with surprise, his eyes flying open to stare into yours with a question clear in his blue depths.

In answer, you leaned in again, pressing your mouth infinitesimally more firmly against his, and flicked your tongue out to swipe at his plump lower lip. 

He tasted like the night, dark and alluring, and you could already tell that you would quickly grow addicted to it, licking along the seam of his lips, searching for more.

Bucky groaned, the sound deep and masculine, sending delicious shivers down your spine as he dug his arms beneath your body and held you crushed to him. He captured your mouth before you could retreat again, kissing you until you were breathless. He kissed you like he’d been starving for you and since he’s gotten a taste, he’d be damned if he let you go.

It was intoxicating to feel the way he wanted you as much as you wanted him, and you gave yourself into it, kissing Bucky back as hard as he was kissing you. Your fingers sank into Bucky’s soft brown hair, clinging to him with the same desperate devotion with which he held you. 

Of their own accord, your legs spread beneath your blankets, allowing Bucky’s hips to settle into the cradle of your thighs. Even through the layers between your bodies, you could feel the hot, hard length of his arousal pressing into the juncture of your legs so tantalizingly, you moaned into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Bucky growled, breaking free from your lips to press kisses along your jaw. His breathing was harsh in your ear, like he couldn’t catch his breath. “D’you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you, koshechka?” He sucked on a spot just beneath your ear, dragging another mewling moan from your lips before answering his own question. “Since the day you brought me home. I’ve wanted to kiss you since that first day.”

“Bucky,” you chastised on an uncontrollable giggle as he nuzzled his scruffy jaw into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply like he was breathing in the scent of your skin. He groaned, making you shiver with pleasure. Still, the words burst out of you, “That’s creepy!” Your tone was meant to be admonishing, but your voice was too breathless to have much heat. 

“The smell of you and the taste of your skin are burned into my mind,” Bucky murmured before dragging the flat of his tongue up the curve of your neck, wringing a low, throaty moan from your lips. “But I wanted to know if your mouth would be sweeter.” He captured your lips for another kiss, his mouth moving against yours in a way that made your head spin.

“Is it?” you asked when he pulled away, giving you a brief reprieve from his drugging kisses. Bucky’s eyes looked as hazy as you felt, and he seemed to not understand your questions. “Sweeter, I mean.”

A slow, seductive smile spread across Bucky’s face, and even cast in the shadows of your room, you could see plainly how handsome he was—so much so, your breath caught in your lungs.

“Oh koshechka, your mouth is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured before diving down for another kiss.

Between your thighs, you could feel Bucky’s cock throbbing and twitching—and it was so hot, you could feel the heat of him through your blankets. 

A slight sheen of sweat was gathering in the creases of your thighs and behind your knees, your own center pulsing with a desperate ache to be closer to Bucky, to be pressed against his warm, bare skin. Your legs kicked restlessly at your blankets, trying to push them out of the way without letting go of your hold on Bucky, whose body was pinning yours to the bed.

Bucky chuckled against your mouth and lifted up enough to help you push the blankets off your body—laughing harder at your disgruntled whine—before settling back down on top of you. Your legs spread to make room for his narrow hips between your thighs, his hard cock pressing against the thin fabric of your panties. 

Without the blankets in the way, you could feel something strange about Bucky’s cock. There were…bumps on it? A pattern of bumps circling the shaft, which grew thicker toward the head. 

Your brows lowered in a frown of confusion and you tilted your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against the length of him, groaning in pleasure when the bumps dragged deliciously against your clit. 

But you were distracted from further exploration by Bucky’s voice.

“Do you want to know what I looked forward to most about dating you, koshechka?” Bucky asked against your lips, nipping and licking the breath from your lungs while he picked up your rhythm, grinding his cock against your slit through the meager fabric of your panties. 

“Wh-what?” you asked in a trembling voice, your hips rocking up against Bucky, your ankles looping around the backs of his thighs for more leverage to grind against his cock. 

“I couldn’t wait for the first time you’d let me stay over,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your jaw and playfully biting the lobe of your ear, drawing a gasp from your lips. “I’d give you my shirt to sleep in, instead of one of these little nightshirts you like,” he said, his fingers curling into the fabric and rucking it up around your hips, spreading your legs wider and giving him more access for his rolling hips.

“What’s wrong with my nightshirts?” you asked on a needy whimper. You pouted as you tipped your head down to look at him while he was busy placing wet, open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones through the thin cotton of your shirt. 

Bucky flicked his eyes up to yours and growled, “They don’t smell enough like me.” His hands slipped beneath your nightshirt, his warm palms skimming over your bare skin and making you shiver. He wrapped his fingers around your ribs, thumbs brushing over the lower curves of your breasts, just teasing your nipples while he stared up at you, watching the way you gasped for him.

It took you a long moment to process his words, and when you did, all you could manage was to whine his name, “Bucky.” The thought of smelling like him did something to your heart and your insides, melting them to the point that you squirmed from the heat flooding your body. 

As you watched, a slow smirk spread across his face. He lowered his mouth to one of your tits and flicked his tongue across your pebbled nipple through your shirt. 

“You should always smell like me,” he muttered into the soft curve of your breast, almost like he was talking to himself, before he latched onto your nipple and sucked the tight peak into his mouth.

Warm, wet heat surged through your body as Bucky suckled on you in long, deep pulls that tugged on a line connected directly to your clit, which was throbbing with need against his still gently rutting cock. His precum was slowly leaking onto your lower belly, making a mess of your panties, but they were ruined by your own arousal anyway.

Between Bucky’s cock and his mouth, your body was a mess of pleasure and wetness, your panties growing increasingly drenched the more he rocked against you, bullying your clit and torturing your nipples. His head shifted, moving to the other, before giving your other breast just as much attention and making your mind spin.

It took you long, long minutes before you could form a coherent thought, your mind catching on something Bucky had said. What tumbled from your lips was the inelegant question: “Do you even own a shirt?”

Bucky paused, like your question surprised him, and a second later he was laughing into the valley between your tits, his forehead pressed to the top of your sternum as his warm breath ghosted against you through your shirt.

“Koshechka,” he rumbled, still laughing as he raised his head to meet your curious gaze. His eyes were sparkling with humor and affection in the moonlight. “I have a whole apartment across town.”

“Then why did you stay with me?” you asked. Your brow furrowed in confusion at that revelation, even as curiosity began winding through your mind. What did his apartment look like? Was it cozy or sparse? Did he have plants or a massive flatscreen? Did he have a pet cat of his own? 

And who was taking care of his apartment while he’d been living with you? Or did he sneak out while you were at work to go hang out at his home?

Bucky’s voice reeled you back into the moment. 

“I told you, koshechka,” Bucky murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to your swollen lips. 

It was soft and sweet and you didn’t want him to stop, but you were too curious about his answer to protest when he pulled away to look at you again. 

“A pretty girl took me in and kept me,” he rumbled, his voice low and delicious, his mouth curved into a mischievous smile that you desperately wanted to lick. “She let me cuddle her and nuzzle her cheeks and sleep in her bed, why would I leave?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he stared at you. “Being your pet was better than being my own man.”

Bucky’s words sank deep into your heart, tears of something like joy springing to your eyes, and you cupped his face to pull him in for another kiss. With no words, only your mouth, you told him how much his statement meant to you. 

He liked being with you more than he liked being free. How could you ever be expected to let go of a man who said such things to you? You didn’t know if you could, even considering the strangeness of your meeting.

Your kiss grew heated and your thoughts melted away, your body writhing beneath Bucky’s as you tried to press closer, despite there being little space left between your bodies already. A whine worked its way up your throat and Bucky swallowed the sound, his mouth curving against yours in a smile before he eased back. 

“May I?” he asked, nodding down to your nightshirt, which he was slowly pushing up further. It took you a moment to realize he was asking your permission to take it off, but when you did, you nodded. However, he didn’t move, only gave you a more intense look. “Use your words, koshechka.” 

“Yes, please…” you said, trailing off as a thought occurred to you. “Do you still want me to call you Bucky?” you asked, tilting your head on your pillow and staring up at the man who’d told you his name was James. 

You watched Bucky’s smile spread across his face and he ducked down, kissing you quickly, like he couldn’t help himself. He trailed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat while he pushed your nightshirt up slowly, teasingly.

“You can call me anything you want, koshechka.”

You considered his words distractedly while he tugged your shirt off, both of you pausing while Bucky admired your body. You had the urge to cover yourself, but held back, more than a little stunned by the sheer amount of heat and desire in Bucky’s gaze. A pleasant warmth prickled beneath your skin everywhere he looked, and it made you want to reach for him, so you did, tugging on his shoulders to pull him closer.

Obligingly, Bucky settled back down on top of you, his mouth working against your collarbones before trailing down to your tits. His big hands worked your soft flesh, kneading you firmly enough to make you gasp and writhe, while his mouth moved between kissing, licking and nipping your skin, teasing your nipples with purposeful flicks of his tongue. 

Despite how perfectly Bucky was working your body, your mind was still caught on what he’d said about calling him anything you wanted.

“What about daddy-cat?” you asked, your voice breathless as you held in a moan. It was the most ridiculous nickname you could think of, and you were curious to see how Bucky responded. He only huffed out a muffled laugh, suckling on your nipple and dragging the moan from your lungs that you’d been holding in.

“If you want,” he murmured against your skin, shrugging a shoulder and not even looking up from your tits.

“Okay,” you said, dragging out the word, your thoughts scattering when he moved to your other breast and sucked deeply on your nipple. Wetness flooded between your thighs and you whimpered pathetically. 

Suddenly, a word came to mind, one you’d seen in some fantasy novels you’d read, and it appealed to you in a way you couldn’t put into words—especially not with Bucky’s mouth on your tits. But it felt right, and it tumbled easily from your lips.

“Alpha.” The word was half gasp, half plea, and filled entirely with your need for Bucky.

Bucky went still, his body going rigid even as his cock twitched between your thighs. Then, his purr kicked to life in his chest, louder than you’d heard it yet.

The vibrations that had teased you through your blankets were so much more intense when your skin was pressed against Bucky’s, and you let out a soft, gentle moan. Your body relaxed instantly, melting beneath Bucky’s broad form while he dug his arms beneath your back and held you close to his chest. 

“I like that,” he rumbled through his purring, kissing up your chest and neck until his mouth found yours. “Call me that, koshechka.”

“Yes, alpha,” you said on a sweet sigh that Bucky swallowed down with a filthy groan, sounding like he was tasting something delicious.

“Fuck, koshechka, you’re making my cock so fucking hard,” he growled against your mouth, his words sliding over your tongue and making you shiver with need.

Bucky’s fingers circled your wrist and he dragged your hand down between your bodies slowly—slowly enough, and his grip loose enough, you knew you could’ve pulled away if you’d wanted. 

But you didn’t want to. You knew what he was doing, and you wanted to feel him, wanted to feel what you did to him. 

And you wanted to explore the strange shape of his cock.

“Feel what you do to me, koshechka,” Bucky growled, placing your palm on his cock and you sucked in a sharp breath of surprise at the feeling of it.

Your fingers circled the base of his cock and ran up the length, feeling the way it swelled and grew bigger as you neared the head. It was so thick, you wondered how he would fit inside you, but your body responded to that thought by growing wetter, and you knew you were eager to try to make it fit.

You stroked Bucky’s cock up and down the shaft, feeling the pattern of bumps circling it. They were more complex than you’d thought, more like barbs that caught slightly on your fingers and palm, though not in a painful way. Just in a way that made you shiver and wonder wildly what they would feel like inside you, dragging against your inner walls and stimulating you in a way you’d never felt before…

Suddenly, you were desperate to feel Bucky slide inside you.

“Alpha, please,” you begged on a whine, a need rising up in you that you couldn’t even begin to control. You shifted your grip on Bucky’s cock, pressing him into your panty-covered slit and grinding against him, writhing your hips beneath his large body. “Please fuck me—I need you inside me, alpha, please.”

“Oh fuck,” Bucky grunted, his hips jerking and fucking against your slick panties, his precum leaking from the tip of his cock and making even more of a mess of you. “Are you sure? I really did want to take you out on a date, do things the normal way…”

His frantic words trailed off on a moan when you pressed his cock deeper between your folds, until he was sliding between your puffy pussy lips. 

Even through your panties, you could feel the barbs on his cock rubbing against your clit and you let out a needy moan. The fingers of your other hand threaded through his soft brown hair and you pulled him close, until your lips brushed against the shell of his ear.

“You’re a cat shifter who’s been watching me sleep while pretending to be nothing more than my pet for almost a year,” you whispered, and even though you knew you’d have to deal with Bucky’s lie at some point, you weren’t ready yet. 

You wanted him, you wanted his cock buried inside you, so you nipped playfully at his earlobe to lighten the mood. Of course, you also thoroughly enjoyed the way his hips rutted between your thighs reflexively, making you giggle softly before you continued on. 

“I think we bypassed normal right around the time I brought you home and you decided to stay,” you murmured, a hint of humor in your tone. “We can play out your Halloween coffee shop meet-cute later, but for now, I need you to fuck me, alpha.”

A rumbling growl ricocheted in Bucky’s chest, teasing your skin where you were pressed together. Your nipples hardened further into tight, achy peaks and your pussy gushed between your thighs, reacting to the desire in Bucky’s growl. 

“I will take you out later,” he said firmly, “But I’ll always give you what you want, and if you want to be fucked—I’ll fuck you good, koshechka.” Bucky pushed up until he was hovering above you, flashing you a charmingly rakish grin. Then his hands were shoving your panties down over your ass and thighs, moving to pull them off you entirely. 

When that was done, Bucky sat back on his haunches and stared at you, laid bare beneath him, your skin swathed in the silvery light of the moonlight and the warm glow of the streetlight outside your window. His piercing blue eyes raked over every inch of bared skin, appreciating you for long, long moments. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, koshechka,” Bucky murmured distractedly, his hands sliding up your legs and pushing your thighs wide. He stared down at your sopping wet pussy with reverence etched in every line of his face. “Even your pussy is pretty—I just need a little taste.” His last comment was mumbled, like he was talking to himself, just before he ducked down between your legs.

The flat of Bucky’s tongue licked up the full length of your slit, digging into the top until he found your clit. His hot mouth against your cunt had you whining and whimpering, your fingers digging into his soft hair and holding on for dear life. He buried his face into your folds, his tongue licking deep into you and making you moan loudly while he ate you out.

“Fucking hell, koshechka, even your cunt is sweet,” Bucky groaned when he finally came up for air, pressing filthy wet kisses to your quivering thighs. You were close to the edge of your release already, but as much as you wanted to come, you wanted something else more.

“Alpha,” you begged in a whining tone, squirming against Bucky’s big hands that were pinning you to the bed. “Feel so empty.”

Bucky lapped teasingly at your clit, and you could feel his smile against your heated skin. He worked your body until you were writhing harder, squirming harder against his hands to rock into his mouth and grind down on his tongue. Still, it wasn’t enough and you whined louder in a wordless plea.

“C’mon, koshechka, come on my tongue and then I’ll fill you up with my cock,” Bucky murmured into your swollen folds, his command half-muffled against your slick pussy. 

Your head thrashed side to side on your pillow and you whimpered, “Alpha,” as you tried to hold on, tried to last until his cock was inside you. But Bucky was determined to feel you come on his mouth.

When he slipped two of his fingers into your drenched hole and stroked a spot deep inside you, the electric shot of pleasure was too much. Your fingers curled so tightly in Bucky’s hair, a distant part of your mind worried you’d yank some of it from his head. 

But you couldn’t think about that—not when he was pushing you over the edge and pleasure was crashing through you in an earth-shattering orgasm.

A silent scream caught in your throat as your whole body went rigid, ecstasy pulsing through your limbs while Bucky kept fucking you with his fingers and sucking on your clit. It was nearly overwhelming, how good his mouth and fingers felt, and you let yourself sink into the waves of pleasure as they washed over you.

You were still twitching with the remnants of your release when Bucky crawled up your body, his mouth kissing your belly and your ribs, pausing to flick his tongue over each of your nipples, then the hollow of your throat. Finally, his lips found yours and he kissed you passionately, making you moan as you tasted yourself on his tongue. 

“Can you taste how sweet you are, koshechka?” he murmured against your mouth while he rubbed the length of your cock through your slick folds. The barbs were catching on your clit, making your hips twitch as you dragged in desperate gasps of air. “Sweet as a Halloween treat.” 

Bucky pressed another kiss to your lips even as you huffed a little laugh.

“I see how it is,” you muttered, a little bitterness seeping into your tone. “You play a trick on me and you still get a treat?” You didn’t quite know where the words came from, but it seemed you weren’t doing so well at putting off dealing with the fact that Bucky had hidden his true self from you for almost a year. 

It was annoying that the betrayal you felt was raising its ugly head before you’d even gotten to feel his cock inside you, but you supposed it had something to do with the deeply satisfied feeling of coming on his tongue. Still, you were embarrassed enough by your blurted, bitter question that you turned your head to the side, trying to hide in your pillow.

Bucky hovered above you, and you could see the serious expression on his face out of the corner of your eye. He gently grabbed your chin and turned you back to look at him, holding your gaze with his own.

“I’m sorry for lying to you for so long, koshechka,” he said, his tone entirely genuine. You could even see remorse simmering in his blue eyes. “I was selfish, and afraid you wouldn’t like me as much like this.” He gestured at himself, indicating his human form. 

That made you huff a laugh and roll your eyes a little before catching Bucky’s gaze again. “How could I not like you like this?” you asked, cupping his handsome face in your hands. Your nails raked lightly through his scruff, and he closed his eyes as a soft purr started in his chest. “But I’m going to need time to forgive you for lying.”

Bucky’s mouth pulled into a bittersweet smile and he nodded his head, his eyes opening again.

“I understand,” he murmured, turning his head to press a kiss into your palm. “I’ll earn your trust back, I promise,” he vowed, staring deep into your eyes, as if willing you to believe him. 

Your lips curved in a small smile and you tipped your head up, pulling him in for a brief kiss. It was little more than a brushing of lips, but you felt the determination in the rigid line of Bucky’s shoulders. You ghosted your lips along Bucky’s jaw, sucking playfully at his skin as you tried to lighten the mood. 

“I still need you to fuck me, alpha,” you purred in Bucky’s ear, your thighs spreading wider beneath his hips, his cock pressing deeper between your still soaking folds.

“Fuck, fuck,” he groaned, his hips moving on instinct until the tip of his cock was pressed to your tight hole. But he stopped himself from pushing inside, instead pausing to ask you, “Are you sure, koshechka?” 

Your heart thumped harder in your chest at Bucky’s question, but you knew what you wanted. “Yes, alpha—please.” 

Your final word was a broken plea, and it seemed Bucky didn’t need to be begged again. He pushed forward, sinking slowly into your tight, warm pussy with a tortured groan. The head pushed inside you, then the thick bulge of his cock, and every additional inch felt like a revelation. 

“You feel so fucking good, koshechka,” he rumbled, his low, gravelly voice sinking into your skin and making you shiver. “Feel so fucking perfect.”

You didn’t have the breath to respond, but you shared his sentiment. The thick bulge of his cock stretched your tight hole to its limit, and you sighed in pleasure when he was finally buried deep. It was a little odd, the feeling of his inhuman cock inside you, but it felt perfect, too. 

For a moment, Bucky paused while he was fully impaled in your cunt. His arms curled around your body, and yours wound around his shoulders. You clung to each other, your chests rising and falling together as your hearts beat in tandem beneath your ribs. 

“Talk to me, koshechka, are you ok?” Bucky asked softly, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. He nuzzled into you, his scruffy face tickling your skin while a soft purr kicked to life in his chest.

Your body relaxed beneath Bucky’s large form and you nodded, trying to catch your breath a little before answering. 

“Yes, alpha, ‘m ok,” you mumbled in throaty voice, your fingers stroking idly through Bucky’s hair at the back of his head. His purr grew stronger, vibrating through you and your inner walls clenched around Bucky’s stiff length, pleasure pulsing through you at the wild, unusual sensation of his cock inside you. “So full.”

“Mm, your tight cunt feels good around my cock,” Bucky murmured in agreement, kissing up your neck until he could brush his lips against your sweaty temple. His scruffy jaw tickled your cheek and you squirmed lazily, a grin spreading across your face. “Feels like you were made for me—fuck, you were made for me, weren’t you koshechka?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed languidly, rocking your hips experimentally and feeling the slight drag of Bucky’s cock inside you, the barbs making your breath catch as delicious pleasure jolted through your body. Distractedly, you asked, “Do shifters mate?”

Bucky tensed above you, and your mind sharpened, focusing on his reaction and the way he was hiding his face in the pillow beside your head.

“James Bucky Barnes,” you growled in warning. He’d lied to you for almost a year, hiding his human identity from you while pretending to be nothing more than your pet, and you’d be damned if you let him keep lying to you. And you knew he was hiding something from you, his reaction to your question made that perfectly clear.

“Yes, we can scent our compatible mate,” he admitted on a gusting exhale, his voice muffled in the pillow.

You licked your lips as you processed that revelation. Unbidden, all the times that night that Bucky had told you how sweet you tasted, how deeply he’d breathed in your scent—and how good his wild scent smelled to you—came to mind. It seemed only natural that your next question was, “And, am I…?” 

“Yes,” he said quickly, cutting you off before you could even finish your question. “You’re mine. I’m yours.” 

His words were slightly less muffled by his face buried in the pillow, and you were suddenly frustrated by the fact that you couldn’t see him. You pushed against his shoulder and twisted your hips until he obliged your wordless request and rolled onto his back, taking you with him.

Your knees dug into the soft mattress on either side of Bucky’s hips and you pushed yourself up with your hands planted firmly on his hard chest. Bucky’s piercing eyes were looking up at you warily, his hands settling lightly on your hips, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you anymore.

“How long have you known?” you asked on a whisper, watching him carefully.

“Since you found me in the bucket,” he confessed with a sheepish wince. “I scented it immediately, especially since I was in my cat form.”

Reflexively, your nails dug into Bucky’s skin as frustration surged through you. “Were you ever going to tell me?” you asked in a harsher tone. 

“I had a plan,” Bucky said, but his tone was apologetic, like he knew it wasn’t a good enough answer. 

For a long moment, you stared down at the man between your thighs. Your mate, apparently. 

Despite how much you knew you should be, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry that he’d held back this particular aspect of his shifter identity. Even knowing it, you didn’t feel like you truly understood what it meant to be Bucky’s mate. 

And if you were being honest with yourself, after everything he’d told you that night, you were a little tired of the revelations. 

It probably would’ve been better if things had gone according to Bucky’s plan. You’d have met him in your favorite coffee shop and slowly gotten to know him—the real him—and he’d have opened up to you when you were both ready. If things had gone that way, you would’ve been able to learn about him being a shifter and your mate at an easier pace.

Instead, you’d been thrust into all this shifter stuff, and Bucky had tried his best to not overwhelm you too much. You couldn’t fault him for that. In fact, you appreciated it. The night had been a lot, and you suddenly knew exactly what you needed from him.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you lay down on Bucky’s chest so your head rested on his shoulder. 

“Can you purr for me, alpha?” you asked in a small voice, craving the comfort of the rumbling sensation.

Bucky’s purr kicked to life an instant later, giving you exactly what you asked for. You let yourself sink into the comfort and pleasure his purring offered, allowing yourself to relax. His cock was still buried deep inside you, and even that felt good—it felt right.

“What else do you need, koshechka?” Bucky asked softly, concern in his tone. His hand stroked tentatively up and down your spine and you smiled into his chest, melting further into his chest. “Tell me, and I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you.”

“I think I want to follow the plan,” you said, realizing it was what you wanted only as you said the words. “I want to try things your way, the ‘normal’ way.” You said those final words a little wryly, but your tone was otherwise genuine. Turning your face up so you could catch Bucky’s eye, you let a little smirk flirt around the corner of your mouth. “After you fuck me.”

Bucky’s eyes heated as they dropped to your mouth, but his hands still felt uncertain on your hips. “Are you sure, koshechka?” His big hand cupped your face, his thumb stroking over your cheek and your eyes fluttered closed at the comfort of the gesture. “I’d understand if you never wanted to see me again.”

At that, your eyes flew open and you glared at Bucky. “That is the last thing I want,” you spit out fiercely, surprised at how strongly you reacted to the idea of never seeing Bucky again. You took a moment, closing your eyes to gather yourself and opened them again to fix Bucky with a firm stare. “Tonight has been a lot, but I want to come on your cock, and then I wanna take the time to get to know you, to see how things go, to do things the normal way.”

A smirk curled the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “I thought we bypassed normal a year ago,” he commented, echoing your earlier words. 

It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean up and kiss the smirk off Bucky’s face, so that’s exactly what you did. 

He groaned into your kiss, his hands tightening on your hips and urging you to rock against him. You broke away from the kiss, unable to bite back the filthy groan that tumbled from your lips at the sensation of his cock shifting inside you.

You could feel the gentle drag of every barb on his cock, the dulled points clinging to your inner channel and making you moan loudly. Your body moved on its own, lifting up Bucky’s cock, needing to feel more of that sensation. Once only the head remained inside your warmth, you shoved yourself down, wringing a delighted screech from your lips while Bucky groaned ferociously. 

“Fuck, koshechka,” Bucky grunted, his big hands kneading your ass while you lifted up again and slammed back down. “Use me—use me for your pleasure.” His voice was breathless, and as you stared down at him, you watched his face contort with pleasure. 

You lifted up, planting your hands on his pecs and set a slow, hard pace, lifting yourself up slowly before slamming down hard on his cock, grinding into the base before doing it all over again. 

Before long, you were both panting and sweating, and your whines grew louder as your body begged more.

Bucky seemed to know exactly when you’d reached your limit of having control, and he wrapped his hands more tightly around your waist, holding you above him while he took over, drilling into your cunt from below. 

The bulge of his length and the barbs were unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and it was only a few breathless moments before you were teetering on the edge of your second release.

“Can I come, alpha?” you gasped on a whimpering whine. Your fingernails were digging into the plush padding on his stomach, pressing hard enough to feel the firm muscle beneath, delighting when his abs twitched at the same time as his cock inside you.

A purr began in Bucky’s chest and he caught your eye, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Does my sweet koshechka want my permission to come?” he purred, staring at you with lazy, half-lidded eyes while he pounded up into you. “Do you need your alpha’s command to come on my cock?” 

“Yes, alpha, please—please command me to come,” you whimpered, your whole body trembling with your need for release. But you found you truly needed him to say it, to tell you to come, before you could do so. You didn’t know if that was a shifter thing, a mate thing or a you and Bucky thing, but in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Bucky fucked you harder, thrusting up so hard that your tits were bouncing with the force. A growl tore through his chest, and you felt his pleasure in the sound, knowing instinctively that he was pleased with the sight of you bouncing on his cock. 

“Come, koshechka—come all over your alpha’s fat cock,” he snarled, just before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and dragging you down to his chest. His mouth found the curve of your neck, where your throat met your shoulder, and he bit down, his teeth sinking deep into your skin. 

You came with a yowling scream, the slight sting of pain from Bucky’s blunt teeth mixing with the blistering pleasure of his cock until you were swept away in a torrent of ecstasy. You shattered apart on his cock, your pussy pulsing and gripping him hard, dragging him over the edge after you.

Bucky came with a groan that was half-muffled against your shoulder, his cock twitching inside you as he spilled his hot seed deep in your belly. His moan morphed into a stuttering purr as he fucked you through the aftershocks of both your releases, until you collapsed on top of him with a satisfied exhale.

One of Bucky’s hands smoothed up and down your spine comfortingly while the other was still wrapped around the back of your neck. He finally pulled away from your shoulder, his tongue lapping at the deep indents he’d left in your skin. 

Strangely, some part of you was disappointed that his teeth hadn’t broken skin. But the feeling of his tongue on the mark he’d left, his cock still throbbing in your pussy, and his hand stroking you softly were all too good to focus on that twinge of disappointment. You pushed it aside and promised yourself you’d ask Bucky about it later. 

Exhaustion was tugging at the edges of your consciousness and you could feel yourself slipping back to sleep. It didn’t help that Bucky dragged the blankets back over your cooling bodies, wrapping you up in a warmth that felt like it sank deep into your bones and curled closely around your heart. 

“Rest, koshechka,” Bucky urged, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll see you at your coffee shop later—I’ll be the one wearing clothes.”

You would’ve laughed, but you were already falling back to sleep.

On the morning of Halloween, you woke with a pleasant tingling between your thighs, and an excessive amount of wetness trickling from your slit. You got up and cleaned yourself up, not too surprised that your Russian Blue didn’t make an appearance as you got ready for the day. 

Your nighttime escapades felt too real for you to even begin to try to convince yourself it was a dream, though you did find yourself missing the soft pitter-patter of your pet’s feet padding across your apartment. You paused in the middle of your living room, feeling a little bit of loneliness creep in as you listened and heard no sign of life in your home.

Shaking your head, you reminded yourself that you weren’t going to be lonely without Bucky the cat—because Bucky the man was waiting for you. 

With that thought in your head, you nearly skipped down the street to your regular coffee shop. 

It was a cute little storefront nestled in between a hair salon and a plant store. The employees had put up decorations for Halloween, including a string of paper bats and little pumpkins in the windows. Inside, there were even more fall decorations, and the scent of coffee was cut with cinnamon and nutmeg.

You scanned the tables, but didn’t see Bucky, so you got in line to order. A moment later, you felt a presence behind you and you somehow knew it was him, even before his scent washed over you and his hand settled gently against your lower back as he came to stand beside you. 

“Good morning, koshechka,” he murmured, ducking to press a kiss to your cheek. 

You gave him a quick once-over, seeing that he cleaned up nice in the light of day, wearing a soft sweater, dark jeans and a warm-looking leather jacket. His breath smelled minty like he’d brushed his teeth, and his skin felt clean and fresh, as if he’d showered. But he’d kept the scruff on his face, and you couldn’t help but be glad for it as it tickled your cheek, a smile curving your lips. 

“Good morning, Bucky,” you said, staring up at him, a little surprised at how easy it seemed to be to fall into step beside him as the line moved forward.

Still, you couldn’t seem to drag your eyes away from his face. He truly was the most handsome man you’d ever seen, and you let your eyes roam greedily over the planes of his face that were so much easier to see in the daylight. You didn’t think you’d ever get tired of looking at Bucky’s face.

“Can I buy you a coffee?” Bucky asked, dragging you from your thoughts. His hand was moving soothingly in a small circle on your lower back, and you could feel the warmth of him even through your jacket.

“Yes, please,” you said sweetly. 

When it was your turn to order, you got a hot latte, while Bucky got a chai. He helped you out of your coat and pulled out a chair for you at one of the small tables, then retrieved your latte from the counter before he settled into the seat across from you. 

The barista had drawn a ghost with the foam on top of your drink and you smiled down at it, wrapping your cold fingers around the warm cup as you considered where to start.

“So,” you began, lifting your eyes to Bucky—taking in the soft sweater that stretched across his broad shoulders, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, before catching his eye. A smirk curved your lips. “Tell me about yourself.”

A slow, answering smile curled the edges of Bucky’s mouth and he leaned forward, planting his arms on the table in a mirror of your posture. When he spoke, his voice was low, a delicious gruffness to it that tingled all the way through you, down to the tips of your toes.

“Well, I’ve had a bit of an unusual life,” he began, catching your eye and holding your gaze with his own sparkling blues. “I served in the army with my best friend, came back, didn’t really know what to do with myself—until I met a pretty girl who took me in and showed me what it’s like to be loved.”

Your heart thumped excitedly in your chest at Bucky’s final word even as your breath lodged in your throat. “Oh really?” you asked softly, swallowing thickly before you continued. “That sounds like an interesting story.” 

“Mm, I’ll say,” Bucky said, his eyes roving hungrily over your face. After a beat of silence, he seemed to have a thought, leaning in further and dropping his voice lower. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” you said on an exhale, mesmerized by the affection swirling in Bucky’s eyes and the way his mouth curved at the edges when he smiled.

“I’m excited to show her what it’s like to be loved by me,” Bucky murmured. 

His words had the same effect as his purr, making you melt as you smiled across the table at him. “I’m excited for that, too,” you admitted softly. 

Bucky’s smile widened, and your eyes dropped to his mouth. You wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment, but you also wanted to stick to his plan to take things slow.

Taking a deep breath, you sat back from the table, giving yourself some space away from the intoxicatingly wild scent of Bucky and lifted your cup to your mouth. You hummed in delight at the taste of the drink, closing your eyes as you savored the rich flavor. 

A choked sound came from across the table and you opened your eyes to see heat simmering in Bucky’s eyes. 

“Are you trying to torture me, koshechka?” he asked in a low rumble. 

You snickered and hid a smirk behind your cup before taking another sip and setting it down on the table. Tossing your head, you looked up at Bucky from under your lashes. 

“It’s the least you deserve for the little Halloween trick you played on me,” you teased. You slid your tongue along your lower lip, licking up the last bit of your coffee, smirking when Bucky groaned quietly. 

“If I behave, d’you think I’ll get a little Halloween treat?” Bucky asked, waggling his brows so suggestively, you tipped your head back with a laugh. 

“We’ll see,” you said with what you hoped was an enigmatic smile. 

Leaning across the table, Bucky ran his thumb over the corner of  your mouth and when he pulled away, you saw a little bit of foam on his finger. He popped it into his mouth, making your eyes narrow on the way his tongue flicked against the pad of his thumb, your core tightening as you remembered the things that tongue had done to you the night before.

“I’ll take whatever you want to give, koshechka,” Bucky murmured, his tone thick with emotion and desire, and you knew he was talking about more than just your body. His piercing eyes pinned you with an intense stare, and you held his gaze determinedly. 

The tension eased when Bucky looked away, his hand reaching across the table, palm up, waiting patiently for you. After a brief moment of hesitation, you slid your fingers into his palm, and your hands folded together. Warmth spread through your body and curled up deep in your heart as Bucky caught your eye again, both of you smiling at each other.

For the next hour, you sat at that little table in your favorite coffee shop with Bucky, getting to know him and learning more about his life. You discovered he had a best friend named Steve Rogers who’d been watching his apartment for the last year while he’d been living with you. He was the friend Bucky had served in the army with and he told you plenty of stories from their childhood. 

At the end of your date, Bucky gave you his phone number, and texted you before you’d even gotten home to plan another outing. All day, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, and you couldn’t help your thoughts from wandering back to your Russian Blue shifter. 

Bucky had given you a Halloween trick and a Halloween treat, and he was giving you the space you needed to wrap your head around everything. Still, you couldn’t wait to see him again, to continue getting to know him, and to learn everything there was to know about him and what he was.

Over the months that followed Halloween, you and Bucky went on plenty of dates, taking things slow. But it wasn’t too long before you dragged him back to your apartment, needing to feel him again—all of him. Like he’d wanted, you slept in his shirt that night, and he purred happily, telling you how much it meant to him for you to smell like him. 

That night, you fell asleep curled up in Bucky’s arms the way he’d slept for so many nights when you’d thought he was only a cat. And it was the first night of many that you slept in your bed together with Bucky in his human form.

Eventually, Bucky officially moved in, and you learned what it meant to be mated to a shifter, though Bucky didn’t give you your mating bite until you’d been dating for a few years. He’d said he wanted to do things the normal way, and apparently that was normal for shifters, even though you were practically begging him to mate you by the time he obliged.

Although your relationship with Bucky began in a very strange way, you took the time together to truly get to know each other. He showed remorse for hiding from you for so long and worked to gain your trust. By the time the two of you were mated, you knew he was the one for you. 

James Bucky Barnes was the one you would’ve chosen even if you hadn’t woken up to him sleeping naked in your bed on that fateful Halloween night.

halloween fics masterlist