#boxofbones drabbles

[boxofbonesfic]

scene prompt! bucky eating you out until you physically can’t take it anymore but he doesn’t stop.

Title: You’re Gonna Give Me Six

Pairing: Mechanic!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Absolute Filth. Cunnilingus, Overstimulation

You don’t even see him before his arms are anchored tight around your waist, his face buried against the back of your neck. He smells like sweat and motor oil, and you know the fingers he’s digging into your hip through the fabric of your dress are stained with the stuff—they always are. There’s a smudge of it on his cheek, a testament to how quickly he’d fled the garage downstairs upon seeing your car pull into the driveway.

“Missed you.” Bucky breathes the words against your skin and you shiver as they leave goosebumps. You know he means it, the way he sighs and presses his nose into the loose curls at the nape of your neck. Bucky doesn’t talk much—a trait you still find a little unsettling, but you’re learning to read him the way he reads you; learning how to hear words hidden in the slow pass of his hand or the upward curl of his lips. It makes his words heavy, like they’re carrying more than just themselves—so you know he means them. 

“I was only gone a week.” Your words are muffled by his shoulder. You can feel his lips curve against your throat. He hums low in his throat. 

“S’ too long.” When he dumps you onto the bed, the sheets all smell like him, like he’s spent every night you were apart here in your apartment. You suspect that if you were to bury your face in the pillows, you’d smell his aftershave.

“How’m I supposed t’sleep ‘less I can feel you right next to me, Peach?” Your feet dangle off the edge of the bed as Bucky settles himself between your thighs. “Ain’t slept good in days.” His hands are warm on your thighs, his thumbs rubbing circles into your bare skin as he pushes the hem of your dress up over your hips.

“And that’s my fault?” You ask teasingly, though your boyfriend nods without missing a beat. 

“Mmm.” He drags his finger down over the swell of your cunt through your panties, before cupping it with one huge hand. “Got some apologies to make, I reckon.” You squeal as he tugs your panties tight, tugging them back and forth between the lips of your pussy like dental floss. You gasp. 

“B-Buck—” He snaps the elastic against you before tugging them to the side. 

“That’s good, Peach,” he says, his rough hands spreading your thighs apart as he lowers himself between them. “All I wanna hear s’ my name.” The first touch of his tongue is electric, gently tracing the outline of your lips like he’s trying to map them out. Your sharp breath elicits a chuckle, and you feel his mouth curve against you. Bucky spreads your thighs further apart, slipping his tongue into your folds with a soft moan of appreciation. 

“Should’a done this before you got in that damn taxi,” he mumbles. “Should’a tasted you before you left.” You want to respond, but the words keep devolving into meaningless babble as his tongue works against you. His fingers dig into your thighs as he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling it.

“O-oh f-fuck—”

You cum without warning, squeezing your thighs around his head as you rock your hips into his face. Bucky groans, holding you in place as your thighs tremble. He doesn’t stop, forcing your trembling thighs back open. 

“B-Bucky what, what—oh—” You arch into the mattress as he finds your swollen, overworked clit with his tongue. “B—” It’s like electricity exploding behind your unseeing eyes, and you keen as he slides two thick fingers into your sopping cunt, moaning low in his throat as you clamp down around him. 

“You’re gonna give me six more, Peach,” he says lowly. Bucky spreads his fingers, scissoring them inside you with a wet squelch. “One for every day you missed.” 

#ask the bones #requests #drabbles #bones drabbles #boxofbones drabbles #boxofbonesfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky x reader

[boxofbonesfic]

What’s Farmer!Alpha!Thor and his omega up to? 👀

She pregnant yet? Or are they still trying? 😈

Title: Patience

“Hold on, Honeybee—that’s it. Like I taught you—fuck.” Thor doesn’t seem to mind the flour staining his hands and now your bare hips, leaving dusty prints wherever he touches you. He rolls his hips, forcing the thick weight of his cock inside you even further. You can’t find it in yourself to complain, his scent filling your nostrils and the taste of honey on your tongue. He’s into the thick of his rut now, a hard, primal edge to every word that leaves his lips. 

You grip the edge of the counter with trembling hands as he sinks into you over and over again, warm pleasure dripping down your spine. It’s the fullness you can’t get used to, the feel of him stretching you as you struggle to take him, even before he knots—

Thor slams one hand on the table, dragging his fingers through the flour next to your head as you gasp and writhe. You’re so full it feels like you’re bursting, the pleasure warm as it spreads down every nerve ending, dripping down to trap your thoughts in sticky amber so they don’t quite reach the forefront of your mind. It’s wrong—but why, again? How can there be wrong here when it feels so right? When Alpha is here and hungry for you, his teeth scraping deliciously against the side of your throat as he bends over you. 

“That’s it, Honeybee,” he growls, dragging his tongue along the healed mark at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He chuckles, tracing shapes from the curve of your hip to the growing swell of your belly. When you peek over your shoulder at your mate, his blue eyes are fever bright, the pupils dilated black. “Know I can’t put another in here yet, but you’ll let me practice, won’t you, Bee?” 

#thor odinson #thor odinson smut #thor odinson imagine #thor odinson drabble #thor x reader #thor x y/n #thor x you #thor smut #boxofbones drabbles #bones drabbles #boxofbonesfic

[boxofbonesfic]

Drabble idea: your next door neighbour is reclusive and you rarely see him but you do notice the strange noises you hear during the full moon and the women who enter his apartment and don't come out.

(Werewolf! Curtis Everett)

Title: Moonsign

Pairing: Werewolf!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: You pick the wrong night to return your neighbor’s mis-delivered mail.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Violence, Monsterfucking-adjacent, Violence, Werewolf AU

A/N: so i fell in love with this prompt—

You pause, your fist half a centimeter from the door as a sharp howl splits the air. Maybe he has a dog. You’ve never actually seen your reclusive neighbor out with one around the block, but working nights has left you decidedly out of the loop on neighborhood events. The block’s been a ghost town lately anyway, what with over half the buildings covered in red and yellow tape signaling that they would soon be torn down or repurposed into housing neither you nor your roommates would be able to afford.

The pile in your hands consists of fifteen letters plus a small package you’d opened by mistake—a dried bundle of beautiful purple flowers you’d had to look at the card inside to identify as decorative monkshood. Behind the house, the sun is setting bright orange and red, casting the dreary porch in shadow. I’m overthinking this.

You knock.

The door creaks open, and you stand, stunned in the doorway with your arm still raised as you stare into the dim hallway beyond.

“H-hello?” You croak, your throat suddenly tight. You drop your arm. “Mr. Everett?” There’s no response, at least not one you can hear from the porch. The sound of cicadas grows in your ears as you shift nervously from foot to foot. I’ll just.. leave it inside. On a table or something.

“I’m, um, I’m coming in,” you follow the statement with a timid step across the threshold. “I’ve just um, I’ve got some mail of yours, I think it was delivered by mistake.” The rug muffles the sound of your footsteps as you shuffle toward the warm yellow light at the end of the hall. It’s a kitchen—and it’s empty.

You set the mail down on the small table. “Sorry I opened one by mistake,” you call, before shaking your head. “What am I doing,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “There’s nobody even home.” That’s fine, all the better. You don’t want to have to face your neighbor after opening his mail. As you turn to head back outside, your foot catches against the leg of a chair pulled back from the table. You stumble, letting out a loud curse.

“Goddammit—” It’s only just out of your lips before you freeze, your stomach tightening. Your cry of pain seems mirrored somehow, like an echo—

Like you’re not alone in this house.

You go to speak, but find your mouth dry, and throat tight as you cup your hands around your mouth.

“Hello?” It comes out as a croak. “I’m sorry for intruding, the door was open and—” You tremble as the answering animal bellow cuts your nervous excuse in half, the unsaid words hanging unspoken in the air in front of your trembling mouth.

Is he hurt or something?

“Mr. Everett?”

For a moment, the house is so silent you can hear the traffic outside, and then the same agonized wail reverberates up through the floorboards, setting your heart racing. You clamp a hand over your mouth to silence the terrified whimper that threatens to escape. It sounds again and again until you realize it isn’t just an anguished, pained yell— someone is speaking to you.

“—lp me,” the words are barely discernible, like the one speaking them can barely manage. “Help me…”

There is another door in the kitchen, one that doesn’t lead back out into the rest of the small house. It, like the front door, opens easily with little effort. The heavy door swings open on silent hinges, exposing a set of dimly lit cement stairs winding down into the dark basement.

“Mr. Everett are you—are you down here?” Your reluctant voice takes a long time to bounce back to your ears. “Do-do you need me to call someone? Did you fall?”

“It… hurts…”

You aren’t sure why the thought of going down those stairs fills you with a primordial sense of dread, like your body is painfully aware of something your waking mind isn’t. You hesitate, but then another anguished wail accompanied by a sick sounding crack spurs you into action. He was hurt down there, and your waffling wasn’t helping.

You shine your phone light on the stairs as you descend, each step dragging icy fingers slowly down your spine. You swallow thickly as you reach the bottom, cool sweat prickling at your temples. The bare bulb hanging by the landing gives off comically little light, forcing you to squint, your brows furrowed as you stare into the gloom. The house upstairs, like most of the buildings on the block, was an old construction, built some time in the sixties or seventies—but this concrete was new.

And the basement… it’s bigger than you’d thought possible, the walls invisible to you either by darkness or design. The air down here is still and heavy, and you cannot will yourself to break the pregnant silence. Goosebumps rise on your skin.

A sickening crack shatters the quiet, and the pained noise that follows is louder and closer than ever before. You squeak with fear, before covering your mouth with your hands. It stinks down here, you realize, a tart, copper scent that you finally recognize as a mix of sweat and blood.

“You…came.” The words sound pleased, despite the speaker’s obvious pain. And that voice… You squeeze your arms around yourself, taking a step back towards the landing. It was like an animal growling words. It doesn’t even sound human.

Your heel bumps the concrete as you begin to back away.

“M-Mr. Everett, I’m going to g-g-go call someone f-for you—”

“I wai-ted for yo-ou,” the voice rasps, continuing on as if you haven’t spoken at all. “Call-ed fo-r yo-ou.” Something shifts in the dark—something big. There is a heavy grunt, and then the sound of metal dragging against the concrete. A whimper worms its way past your lips as slowly, the weak glow of the swaying bulb above your head reflects off of two pale blue eyes, glinting in the dark. The thing stops moving, the dragging sound suddenly ceasing.

“He thi-nks this will sto-op me,” the sound of the chain striking concrete is like the thunder outside, the spark briefly illuminating—something. You can’t comprehend it—huge and hulking, dark fur—“There is no ca-ge for me that he can bui-ld that I cannot destro-oy.”

There is a sound like metal crunching and then your legs are moving before you tell them to, scrambling up the stairs on your hands and feet like an animal as a rasping sound like laughter follows at your heels.

You’re barely through the door when you hear it on the stairs, something big coming up behind you—you bolt towards the front door, a scream erupting from your throat. You grab the door handle—

As claws tear through your overalls, splitting the skin underneath like hot knives. You fall forward with a cry against the door. It knocks the wind out of you, and you fall to your knees, your eyes blurry with tears. It’s like a wolf, you realize as it looms over you—but like a man, too, standing on thickly furred legs with an unnatural, canine bend.

Pale blue eyes sit above its dark muzzle, and they sparkle with dark amusement. You open your mouth to scream again and it lunges, burying sharp white teeth into the meat of your shoulder. You can taste your own blood, smell it in the air around you as you gurgle. Your blood gleams on its muzzle when it pulls away, dripping down onto your face as it hums.

“He will have to keep you now.” Terrified tears track down your cheeks as the bite mark on your shoulder begins to burn. “Like he wants to.”

End

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fandom #cevans fandom #cevans fic #curtis everett #curtis everett imagine #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x y/n #werewolf au #werewolf curtis everett #werewolf!curtis #darkfic #dark mc #boxofbonesfic #boxofbones drabbles #bones drabbles

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Due Diligence

Pairing: Minotaur!Thor x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Monsterfucking, Size-Kink, Minors DNI!

a/n: i’m coming back to re-claim my title as “Queen of the Monsterfuckers” 🫣 “Dóron mou” means “my gift”. please enjoy! divider by @firefly-graphics

As you stare breathlessly up into the dark you wonder briefly if you are awake, or if this too is a dream. Above you, the gems embedded in the distant cavern roof wink like stars. The greedy sound of your lover between your legs brings you crashing back down into your body, his thick, calloused fingers digging into the meat of your hips.

“Watch, dóron mou,” Thor mumbles against you, dragging his wide, flat tongue through your slick folds. He repeats himself firmly. “Watch.” His massive palms span almost the length of your thighs, and he kneads them possessively, cutting his eyes at you from between your legs.

You force yourself to focus on him, dragging your bleary, tear filled eyes down to his.As a reward, Thor rolls your swollen, overstimulated nub between his teeth. You squeal in response, bucking agains his face.

“Good.”

One hand scrabbles for purchase on the stone ledge beneath you, the other sinking into his soft blond hair. You rock against him, unable to help yourself as he chuckles.

“My greedy little present,” he hums, and you feel his lips curve as he laps again at your clit. “Greedy…” he trails off as you whine, your thighs tighten around his head. You card your fingers through his sandy hair, gripping his horns with both hands as you rock against his face.

Slowly, he lowers you back down to the ledge, cradling you like a doll against his massive chest. He dwarfs you easily, looming over your limp body as he inspects the sticky mess between your thighs.

You twitch and mewl when he drags his fingers through your sloppy cunt, and he hums softly, a smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

“Th-Thor,” you hiccough his name pathetically as he cups your chin, drawing his thumb across your trembling lower lip.

“What is it, Pet?” He asks, his blue eyes deceptively soft as he swirls his fingers around your clit. “Tell me.”

“P-please, I w-want—” You stumble over them clumsily, the words sticking together on your tongue.

“Oh dóron mou,” Thor croons, stamping one hoof against the stone in anticipation. “I know what it is you want.” You squeal as he presses against you, the thick, leaking head of his cock pressing hungrily into your belly. Though you have seen it before, you cannot help but peek down at the space between your bodies.

His torso is that of a man, still—mostly, the downy brown fur that covers his legs beginning just below his navel, growing thickly between his powerful thighs. His cock springs frol a dark tuft of fur, so thick around the base you couldn’t touch your thumb to your forefinger—something you had learned from experience.

A tremor of anticipation passes through you, and Thor’s nostrils flare.

“Come, my little gift. Let me feel you.” With one massive hand on your belly, Thor positions himself between your thighs, spreading them wide to accommodate the size of his hips. He presses himself against your cunt, groaning softly as he drags himself back and forth through your sticky folds. The head of his cock presses hard against your clit, and still more stars burst in front of your lidded eyes.

“So wet for me,” he murmurs, his hips bucking as his eyes go wide with pleasure. His hands tighten around your hips as he moves against you. “I wonder…”

You are not left without explanation for long, gasping as his cock presses against your entrance. You gape up at him, wide eyed as he begins to press forward. The burning stretch of his entry brings tears to your eyes. They track down your cheeks as you gurgle up at him, drawing red lines down his chest and with your nails.

You’re so full you’re drowning in him, gasping for breath as the tide of sensation drags you under. It’s so sharp it borders on pain, the pleasure tearing up your spine to burst over your skin in waves. Thor leans over you to stroke at your sweaty face with gentle fingers, his own eyes fever bright as he grins down at you smugly.

“I told you we would fit, Pet.” He swallows your breathless gasp of pleasure eagerly, and you taste yourself on his lips. “It just took a little… diligence.”

😈

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfiction #thor odinson #thor odinson fic #thor odinson imagine #thor odinson smut #thor odinson x reader #thor odinson x you #thor x reader #thor x you #thor smut #thor au #AU #boxofbonesfic #boxofbones drabbles #bones drabble #minotaur au

[boxofbonesfic]

I don’t know if you’ve wrote anything like this but how about one with Bucky and an insecure and shy reader with no experience

i haven’t yet, but that would be so cute! for some reason i always think of Mob!Bucky for these sorts of things???

Warnings: smut, thigh riding, inexperienced reader, MINORS DNI!

“You don’t have to be nervous, princess.” Bucky’s voice is far steadier than you feel. You know what you want, what you’ve wanted ever since that first dance at his father’s New Years party.

But you’re afraid to ask.

Good girls don’t ask—that’s what your prudish mother says. Live a little! is what your best friend Hillary says. You don’t know which is right—both? Neither? But you do know that nothing has been able to alleviate the throb between your thighs since he held you close, since his lips brushed the shell of your ear as he promised he would make you his one day.

“You’re gonna be Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes, you know that, right sweetheart?” he’d said, and your breath had hitched in your throat. “I got the keys to the kingdom already in my hand, and you’re gonna be a mighty fine Queen.” you’ve seen him every day since.

“I—” nervousness silences you, and you look down, embarrassed. You’re not stupid, you know what’s happening to you—you just don’t know why you can’t think when he’s around, when his hands are on you. It doesn’t make sense that the ache you feel inside should translate to this.

“It’s okay, baby. I know you’re a little jumpy. We’ll go real slow.” his hands are hot on your back through the thin cotton of your sundress. He tugs you down to his lap, and you look around the gazebo nervously.

“B-but Bucky, someone might see—!” you whisper, and he utters a soft shhh that you almost lose to the sound of the pouring rain. The gazebo is far enough into the garden that the house became blurry through the sheets of water, but still close enough to make you nervous.

“Nobody’s gonna see, baby. Everybody’s inside.” he helps you straddle his lap. “Just relax and let me take care of you before your goddamn handler comes back.” he laves a soft kiss to the side of your throat and you giggle at the mention of your sister, who’s kept much closer faith to your mother’s teachings—with a miserable marriage to show for it. Your giggle transforms itself quickly into a moan as his teeth rasp along the side of your throat.

“Oh.”

He grins against your skin, and you feel his thigh move up, pressing hard against the already damp seam of your panties. “So warm,” he murmurs, his hands moving reverently up and down your sides. He does it again, and the embers of desire that have never really seemed to fade blaze brighter. A moan slips from your lips, and he grinds again.

“That’s it, baby. Feels good, right?” his voice is gentle. You don’t feel scared, like you thought you would. You’re anxious you’re going to embarrass yourself, scared you’ll look like even more of a sheltered rich girl, but… you’re not scared of him. You manage a nod.

“Y-yes.”

“Tell me.”

Your face burns. “I—I feel wet,” you mutter, pressing your face into his dress shirt. You know you’ll be leaving telltale makeup smears all over the crisp white fabric, but you can’t bear to look him in the eye. “And I w-want m-more,” you admit, and he chuckles in response.

“My sweet, greedy girl,” he mutters, guiding your hips with his hands until you get the rhythm down yourself. “This is what you’re gonna get tonight.” your panties are stuck fast to your soaked folds, and your throbbing clit rubs against the fabric of his dress pants through them easily. “You’re gonna soak my thigh, and then when you’re ready, I’m gonna fill that tight pussy up with my cock.”

“Bucky!” the harsh exhale of breath is both a reprimand and a plea, and he grins at you, his steely eyes dark and hungry.

“And you’re gonna say my name just like that when I do it.”

#bones drabbles #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob!AU #MCU fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #bones headcanons #boxofbonesfic #boxofbones drabbles #bucky barnes imagine #smut

[boxofbonesfic]

i will be here for all ur future chubby bucky needs bc he makes the world go round 😭😭 as far as the first date with them goes i’m literally ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 he would be so nervous but so endearing and charming and she’d fall for him instantly, but he’s still sore from his last relationship and has a hard time w self love so there’s lots of reassurance and compliments and bucky being a lil flustered and overwhelmed w the attention and just 😭❤️‍🩹 no thoughts head empty; chubby bucky ONLY

seriously if u ever find time/want to delve into chubby bucky more i will be there in a mf FLASH

chubby!Bucky is love, chubby!Bucky is life 🥺

FIRST DATE DRABBLE LETS GOOOOOOOO

he’s all nervous about their first date, can’t even believe she’ll show up.

How’d I fuckin’ get this lucky? Bucky thinks that every time he sees your name in his phone. He can’t believe you agreed to a date in the first place, but he’s not going to jinx his luck. You’re so beautiful, you’re the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

Which is why he’s holding up shirt after shirt in front of the mirror, trying to decide which one you’ll like best. Hell, he’ll be lucky if you even show up at all. He has to have imagined the enthusiastic “Yes!” that left your lips almost before he’d even finished asking you out, with Steve giving him two huge thumbs-up behind your back.

When he finally arrives at the restaurant—thirty minutes early—he waits for you eagerly at the bar. But when his thirty minutes early turn into your thirty minutes late, he finishes the whiskey the bartender gave him out of pity, and stands up. No sense in wasting any more time. You’re clearly not coming, and he shoves down the disappointment. Of course you wouldn’t. He makes for the exit, grabbing his coat, when suddenly—

“Bucky!” You’re panting, your hands on your knees. You look up at him, and he sees sweat gathered at your hairline. “W-wait! I—fuck—train was delayed, stop closed by my house!” you pant. His eyes widen, and he feels disbelief wash away the hurt.

You’d gotten stuck on the train.

Bucky leads you back to the bar, and you apologize again, reaching for his hand. “I didn’t want to miss this.”  His chest tightens again, but this time, it’s for an entirely different reason.

It’s the best date of his life.

He can’t think of anything that would even compare. He takes the train home with you, just to make sure you get there safe, and you let him hold your hand the whole way, his fingers threaded through yours.

“You were in the military?” You ask, cocking your head at him. Your eyes stray to the dog tags still visible under his shirt, and he pulls them out for you to see.

“Yeah, Sergeant.” He doesn’t like to brag about his service, doesn’t really see the valor or the honor in it, he was a scared kid who’d done what he thought he had to—and come home missing an arm for his trouble. But you don’t ever stare at the arm, you don’t ask him about it. It’s just…a part of him you don’t question.

It’s nice.

You let him walk you up to your front door, twirling your har around your finger. “I had a really good time tonight, Bucky.”

“I did too,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck nervously with the metal hand. “And, well, I know, maybe its forward of me, but—shit—I was thinking maybe we could, another time I mean—�� he can’t stop rambling, staring at the stone awning over your head as his cheeks heat. He’s not prepared for you to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down to your face. He’s even less prepared when your soft lips brush against his. You’re so warm and soft against him, and then he’s kissing you back.

He pulls you against him with a moan, crushing you to his chest. You let out this little mewl and his knees go weak, but he can’t stop. He doesn’t stop until you’re pressed against your own door, his leg wedged between your own. Bucky comes back to himself then, apologies rising in his throat.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m—I’ll go—” He’s gone too far, there’s no way this is what you intended. He’s already trying to detangle himself from you when you giggle.

“I would love to see you again, Bucky.”

#bones drabbles #boxofbones drabbles #boxofbonesfic #bones hc #ask the bones #chubby!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #fluff

[boxofbonesfic]

hi !!! i just wanted to say that i LOVE body talk so much. you wrote feelings that i experienced when i first started going to the gym in such a beautiful way that made me feel so seen and understood— i loved it so much. and like, can’t thank you enough for creating something so beautiful

i was wondering if you would ever write more of that story? maybe one shots or drabbles or anything? or, what you think the story would be like with the roles reversed and with personal trainer!reader and plus size!bucky?

omg anon??? i love this????? okay, i *am* going to write more of Personal Trainer!Bucky, it will just be a while because i have some other projects that have to take precedence, but trust me when I say Bucky and Toots are living rent free in my head lol. i also have another drabble about them here!!

ALSO i LOVE that idea so much i had to drabble it out 🥺

Role Reversal: Chubby!Bucky x Personal Trainer!Reader

It’s pretty easy for Bucky to pinpoint the exact moment he knew you were it. That he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to be worthy of you. It’s when you walked into the weight room, your hands on your hips, and an accusing finger pointed angrily at the tittering group of fitness-bullies in the corner.

He’d had headphones in, and as he pulled them out, the music faded, only to be replaced with your voice instead.

“—to yourself! You want to be assholes, you can do it at a different gym.”

“We’re members! You can’t kick us out—” Bucky watches a smug smile cross your lips before you reach up to tap your name-tag, underneath which is a gold pin with the word “manager” embossed on it. “Can’t I?” you say, before huffing. “We don’t tolerate that shit here.” He’s used to the comments, they’ve followed him to every single gym he’s tried since he got home. They’re easy enough to ignore; after all, they don’t hurt worse than finding his ex in bed with someone else just three months after he’d returned from duty.

They don’t hurt worse than her standing behind him in the mirror, asking why he’d let himself go so thoroughly, how he could think she would want him when he looked like that. Steve’s elbow in his side makes him wince, shooting a glare at his best friend as he leans over to whisper in his ear.

“Cute, right?”

He watches you make sure they leave, standing in the doorway to the weight-room before you deflate a little, peering over your shoulder at him. “I’m so sorry,” you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “They never should have said any of that to you.”

“ S’okay,” Bucky shrugs, his cheeks heating. “I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be.” you glare venomously at the door, like you’re waiting for them to come back. “If they give you any more trouble, ask for me, okay?” You point to your name-tag again.

“Sure thing. Does that, um, extend to outside of here? I got a few asses that need kicking,” He jokes, and you giggle.

You hold your hand like a gun, and lift them to your lips, blowing away the imaginary smoke from your finger-barrel. “Just give me the names,” you laugh. Bucky laughs too, a real laugh, one that makes him double over just a little.

“Take it easy, killer.” He says a little wistfully to your retreating back as you head for the door. Steve glances between you once, twice, before he scrambles to catch up, putting himself between you and the exit.

“Hey, wait, uh, you do personal training right? Maybe you could help us out. I’m just a meathead, but you probably really know what you’re doing.” Steve pointedly ignores Bucky gesturing for him to butt out, to shut up, his cheeks pink and burning. “And do you only do sessions here?” he asks sweetly, waggling his eyebrows at Bucky over your shoulder as you look down at your phone to check your schedule.

“No! I do lots of outdoor stuff, like at the park. I know it gets stuffy in here,” you gesture around. “How’s next Thursday?” you look back at Bucky, flashing him a million megawatt smile that makes his chest ache.

“Th-that’s good. That works.” You point your finger gun at him again, before firing.

“It’s a date,” you reply, grinning at him. “See you then.”

“S-see you. Killer,” he jokes again, and you laugh, waving at him over your shoulder. Steve elbows him again, but Bucky can only swallow thickly as he watches you walk away.

It’s a date.

#bones drabbles #boxofbones drabbles #boxofbones hc #bones hc #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #chubby!Bucky barnes #hey nonny nonny ho ho

[boxofbonesfic]

SKYPE/ SEX W BUCKY BARNES🤲

YOOOOO I LOVE THIS LMAO

this drabble got away from me but… anyways ENJOY ❤️ MINORS, DNI!!

title: Kiss me thru the phone

rating: explicit

warnings: smut, fluff

AND I OOP—

Bucky hates being away from you. Hates how he can’t go to sleep without you there, hates how he can’t pull you close, fit you against his chest with your leg thrown over his hip, like you like.

So when you suggest skyping when he goes on missions to help him fall asleep, it’s completely innocent. “We can talk until you fall asleep,” you say as you install the app. Bucky huffs.

“Ain’t the same.” he grumbles, tugging you onto his lap. This goodbye is worse than all the other ones—he’ll be away for three whole weeks, much longer than he’s been away for a long time. And as much as you’re loath to admit it, you have trouble sleeping without him, too. So when he finally leaves early the next morning, his beard stained with you and tired but satisfied, you hope the time will fly by.

The first week is the worst. Bucky forgets to call four nights out of the week, and when he does, the connection is terrible, and you both end the calls frustrated and lonely. When he calls the next Monday, the video is crystal clear.

“Hey, baby.”

“Bucky! You remembered.”

“ ‘Course I did. I never forget my best girl.”

“You forgot me last week,” you tease, and you watch him frown.

“Forgettin’ to call s’not the same as forgettin’ you, baby. Besides, we were moving around a lot.”

“You look comfy.”

“Yeah, they’ve got us staying in this ritzy hotel.” You know he can’t say more—it’s a risk just talking to you, but one he’s more than happy to make. “Miss you so much, doll.” he sighs. “Can’t sleep without you.”

You ask him about his day, what dreams he’s had lately, any and everything you can think of until you’re both yawning, and you finally fall asleep. That’s the pattern every night for the next week—and though it certainly isn’t the same as feeling him wrap his arms around you, the vibranium one cool against your skin, you’re definitely sleeping better.

The following Saturday is when everything goes sideways.

You wake in the middle of the night, the sound of rustling rousing you from slumber. It’s late, still dark out, and you peer blearily around the room without sitting up. Nothing looks out of place, and a cursory glance tells you that no one’s there. You turn over, realizing your phone screen is still on—and then you see it.

His hand glides easily up and down his cock, and you can hear the sound of slick flesh against flesh. He’s hard, the bulbous head of his fat cock dripping with precum. You watch him jerk his hips up into his hand, cursing. You don’t mean to make any noise, but a soft gasp escapes your lips, and his hand stills. You lay there, immobilized as you pray he hasn’t noticed you.

“Know you’re up, sweetheart.” his voice is gravelly from sleep. “Dick got you speechless, baby?” he chuckles, and you swallow thickly, picking up your phone with trembling fingers.

“You do this a lot?” you ask in a small voice, unable to keep the heat from creeping into your cheeks. This is a man who’s fucked you six ways from Sunday and then som, but for some reason seeing his cock through the screen seems dirtier.

“Couldn’t help myself, staring at that sweet ass for hours. ‘Memberin’ how good you feel all pushed up against me and fuck—“ his cock throbs as he speaks, a fat drop of precum gathering at the tip and slowly dripping down. He angles the phone so that you can see his face. “Can’t help myself, doll.”

Your mouth is dry—you don’t want him to stop, but you don’t know what to say, what to do.

But Bucky does.

“Take your tits out, sweetheart.”

You do, pulling down the neckline of your tank-top until your breasts spill over the fabric. He groans, and you hear his hand speed up. “Fuck.” You feel naughty showing off on camera, and although Bucky is the only one who can see you, it still feels like you’re putting on a performance. The thought makes your nipples harden.

“What’cha got on under the blanket, sweetness? Show me.”

You inch the covers down, exposing the curve of your hip. These boy-shorts are a little small, but they’re perfect for this, because they dig into the cheeks of your ass, creating even more delicious curves. Bucky’s practically salivating, and you can hear him egging you on. “More. Let me see, baby. Fuck.”

He makes you cum twice—and you think it counts because when his velvety voice is ringing in your ears, urging you on, it’s better than it’s ever been when you were alone—and finally lets you end the call. You fall asleep immediately after.

Bucky’s only gone for three more days before he’s pounding on your door. You barely manage to unlock it and then he’s on you, lips and hands forcing you against the kitchen table.

“Thought-you weren’t-supposed to—next week?” you manage to gasp out between his kisses.

“We finished up early.” his fingers tangle in your shirt as he attempts to undo your blouse, before he grunts in frustration and just tears it. You mumble out a protest, though you don’t really care. “I’ll get you a new one.”

“How’d you manage that?” you ask, adding this shirt to the mental tally of Bucky’s many infractions.  He grins.

“I just got the right motivation.”

#one of these days i’m gonna actually title and tag all my drabbles #boxofbones drabbles #bones drabbles #boxofbonesfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #smut

[boxofbonesfic]

Thristy thots: dark!Steve returning to Brooklyn only to find his girl has moved on. So he has to remind who she belongs to in front of her new man 😏 I dont have the ability to write a good dark Steve so he's just gonna live in my mind for now 😂😂 Happy Sinday!

i… woah. okay

title: memento

rating: explicit

warnings: noncon/dubcon, humiliation, degredation, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, oh god the dove is dead please don’t eat it

💀

“Remember now, sweetheart?” Steve’s face looms over your own, his eyes boring into you. You can’t look away—your shoulder still bears the mark of your previous infraction, the bite mark red and swollen. The rest of you is also marked with his affections, bruises and handprints around your hips from his roughness. You’re practically sobbing against him, your own fingernails drawing reddened lines down his chest and back. “Oh I think it’s coming back to you, baby.” His mouth is on yours again, hot and hungry as he rolls his hips into yours. You don’t know how there’s room for all of his cock, the heavy weight of it splitting you deliciously in two. You’ve come apart on his cock three times that you can count, two on his fingers, and one in his mouth. You’re exhausted and overstimulated but he’s still going.

“Steve please,” you whine. “I’m—hic—sorry, I’m s-so sorry, I didn’t know you were coming back—told me you were d-dead—” your words are marred by his thrusts, and the feel of him bottoming out inside of you is still making stars burst, searing into your vision. “P-please—” he strokes the sides of your face without missing a beat, his cock still moving steadily in the sloppy, wet mess of your cunt.

“I know, sweetheart. I believe you. I forgive you for that. I know you didn’t know.” he kisses you again. “What I can’t forgive,” he turns your head sharply to face the bound, gagged figure on the chair just next to the bed, “is this. I don’t think you remember whose pussy this is.” Steve punctuates the statement with a thrust that makes your body convulse with pleasure. “Whose it is to give away. But when you remember, doll,” he groans, forcing your gaze back to him. “I’ll forgive you.”

He screams through the gag, but Steve’s done a good job, and you barely hear anything. Maybe he can see your concern, or perhaps he takes pity on Eric, restrained just feet from where Steve is sliding his cock slickly into you, but he chuckles. “And maybe then I’ll let him loose.”

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #smut #cuckholding #steve rogers x you #dark steve smut #dark marvel fic #dark!mcu #boxofbones drabbles #boxofbonesfic #bones drabbles

[boxofbonesfic]

Hoe thot: Steve Rogers didn't want to have sex before marriage. Once you both married 😏😏😏

You wonder where the hell did he know how to please you

And oooh - make it nomad!Steve cause THAT BEARD THO

OMG I LOVE IT????

Title: patience

rating: EXPLICIT lmao

warnings: uhhh overstimulation? fluff? idk

LET’S GET DRIB’ DRABBLIN’

💖

He knows you love him—that’s why you’re willing to wait. Steve knows he’s not your first either, and that’s okay. He knows it’s a different time now, but he can’t help but hold fast. Keep this one last tradition. He bends on most other things—after all, you change with the times, right? He’s Captain America, not Captain Asshole, and America looks a lot different than it did when he was a kid.

So he learns.

He “surfs the internet”, and he does the “Google”, and he learns. Virginity is a concept, it’s not real—but it still feels important to him anyway, and you respect that. It’s the one weird hill he has Not to say that he hasn’t thought about it.

Damn does he think about it.

He thinks about how soft and wet it’s going to be inside of you, how tight of a fit you’ll be. He dreams about it. He’s not stupid, he’s done his research. And where that fails, he knuckles down and asks his friends. Natasha is the least surprised and the most forthcoming, and Tony’s ribbing only lasts about fifteen minutes before he’s diving into his player’s handbook of secrets.

So when he finally does take you to bed on your wedding night, after all the guests have been bid farewell and you’re alone in his brownstone—you half don’t believe him. You’re messy and twitching on his still hard cock as he fucks you through your fourth orgasm of the night, your thighs spread wide by his large hands. Your eyes are glassy and your lips are parted, your lipstick smeared by his heated kisses.

“God, Steve, I can’t cum again,” you’re whining, tears gathering in your wide eyes. He takes pity on you, removing the weight of his thumb from your swollen clit. He leans back, angling his hips so that he brushes up against the rough patch just inside your sinfully tight pussy. Your eyes roll and your suck your bottom lip between your teeth.

“That’s okay, doll. I won‘t force it this time, you’ll get there all on your own.”

#sunday funday #boxofbonesfic #bones drabbles #boxofbones drabbles #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #smut #steve rogers imagine #marvel fic #MCU fic #ask the bones #hey nonny nonny ho ho

[boxofbonesfic]

I have thots about your alpha Steve deciding I dont need to work this week and he triggers my heat so I have to stay home.

oooooh myyyyy gooooooooodddddd

rating: mature

pairing: Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

warnings: dubcon, explicit sex implied, A/B/O dynamics

You moving in hasn’t seemed to sate Steve, not one bit. He still can’t help himself, especially now that he can smell you in every corner of the house. It’s both too much and not enough, and he can’t take it.

So he takes you instead.

And though you’re tired, and just a little sore, you appreciate your Alpha, you know you could do worse. So much worse. And besides, the feel of his knot in you makes it almost worth him deciding to christen you on every fuckable surface in the house.

You rise from the bed, stretching. Your lower back twinges and you hiss, a reminder of the kitchen counter the night before. Your face heats and you tug your robe over your shoulders, the fabric sliding against the bite mark that still lingers on your throat. You haven’t gone into heat this cycle, not yet, and you know Steve is eager to mark you permanently.

His sleepy voice reaches your ears as you open the bedroom door. “Where you goin’, sweet?”

“I gotta get to work,” you remind him. “It’s Monday.” your weekend had been spent in a haze of him as soon as your friends had helped you unload the last box, and you were grateful to have the eight hour reprieve from his advances. He huffs, and you know if you turn you’ll see a pout on that handsome face.

“Don’t want you to go.” he mumbles. “Stay in bed a little longer, baby.” You hear him pat the bed.

“I can’t, Steve,” you whine. “I already took off Friday to move, I don’t want to be late. Besides, I’ll be home before you know it.” his irritated sighs followed you all morning as he brooded outside the bathroom, and over coffee, and as you finally shrugged into your blazer.

“Stay.” he asks again, and you turn.

“Steve, I ca—” and then it hits you. Powerful, concentrated, all around you. A wave of nausea hits afterward. Your words turn to mush and a groan escapes your lips.

“I want you to stay.” it’s not a request this time. A little whine makes its way out of your throat, and your entire body clenches. A cold sweat breaks out on your forehead, and you whimper, clutching your middle as pain dawns on your senses, sharp and cutting.

Your heat.

You know what’s triggered it, Steve’s burst of hormones, poignant and pointed right at you. You can feel your hindbrain kicking into overdrive. Stay. Alpha wants you to stay. Alpha will be unhappy with you—

You don’t even have the strength to stagger to the doorway, and Steve’s strong arms sweep underneath your own as he tugs you against his chest. You’re whimpering and writhing against him, feverishly clawing at your own clothing. His lips brush the shell of your ear and you keen, pushing your hips back against him.

“Think I’ll keep you home all week.“

#bones drabbles #boxofbones drabbles #boxofbonesfic #sunday funday #ask the bones #steve rogers imagine #Alpha!Steve Rogers #A/B/O dynamics #Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader #steve rogers x you

[boxofbonesfic]

In Creep, how do you picture Steve going about ‘correcting’ the Sharon mistake? Is he gonna go the normal route of divorce or something darker?

that’s such a good question, nonnie!! not gonna lie, i was *this* close to having him kill Sharon, but i actually like this so, so much better.

well… have a drabble, nonnie 🥴

Title: Acrimony

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Toxic!Steve, Mean!Steve, misogyny, possessive behavior, infidelity, VERY dead dove: do not eat!

Steve is waiting for Sharon in the kitchen when she gets home. She’s late—didn’t bother calling. The thought makes his lip curl, but he tempers it, after all, it’s not like he’s here all that much anymore anyway. His thoughts drift to you, and he feels his stomach tighten at the thought of you waiting on him, making dinner, wearing the yellow sundress he first saw you in—

“Steve?” Sharon’s voice snaps him out of his reverie. “You’re… You’re home early.”

“Earlier than you, certainly.” He replies, steepling his fingers as he leans his elbows on the table. Sharon scoffs, draping her jacket over the back of a chair.

“You’re one to talk,” she hisses venomously. “You’re never even here anymore. I don’t even think you sleep here.” She’s right. He doesn’t. Now that Thomas is out of the picture, Steve’s made himself quite at home—and you’ve let him. In fact, just that morning he’d woken you up by sinking his cock into the confines of your tight pussy, repeating the act throughout the day as often as he’d wanted, leaving you a whining panting mess wherever he found you. “Are you going to be staying for dinner?” Sharon asks pointedly, and he grins.

“No, I’ve already eaten.” Steve licks his lips. And I will again when I get home. It’s funny, the way home’s become where you are. The house he shares with Sharon is modern and bland, muted colors and sleek surfaces. But you… everything you touch is soft and colorful, from the push throw-blankets over the sofas, to the warm colors adorning your walls, and the homey, comfortable furniture. That is home—where he’s taken care of.

This is just a house.

“Look, Steve, whoever she is, I really hope she makes you happy. I hope she fucking likes serving you, and catering to you, and asking your permission for every goddamn thing.” Steve watches her outburst with passive amusement.

“She does.”

A thick sob tears from her throat, and Sharon roughly wrenches her ring off, throwing it at him. “You’re sick.” She spits the words at him, and this time the barb sticks. “You’re sick, and I deserve better.” he sneers at her.

“Oh, are we listing what we deserve, Sharon?” He asks bitingly. “I deserve a present wife, a wife who actually fucking wants to be one!” He slams a fist against the table, and the crack that spreads through the wood at the impact is deep. “I fucking give and I give, to you, to everyone, and it’s a goddamn crime to want dinner on the table when I come home?” He asks scathingly, watching her lip tremble. It’s the same fight, the same one they’ve had since they got married. The one they never stopped having. Steve picks up the ring from where it’s fallen on the table, and eyes the gold band with disappointment.

This was a mistake.

“Get out.” Her voice is firm, even though it trembles. “I’m done. I’m fucking done.”

“I’ve been done for a long time.” Steve replies, unable to help himself from twisting the knife. “And you know, she’s even willing to give me children, Sharon. Doesn’t even matter how many.” He watches her knuckles go white as she clenches the back of the chair. “I’ll be by with the proper paperwork.”

“I hope you’ve got a good fucking lawyer.”

“Why? Sharon, this is an empire of dirt, and you are welcome to it. What do you want? Alimony? The house?” he laughs. “Entering and exiting this the same way we started: with a list of fucking demands. Never ends with you, does it?”

“Fuck you, Steve.”

“Have a good night, Sharon.” He leaves his ring on the table with hers, and makes for the doorway.

“You know, Steve, one day someone’s going to show everyone just what a black, rotted piece of shit you are inside.” Sharon calls at his retreating back. “And I’m going to laugh my ass off.”

“It won’t be you, though, will it?” He glances at her over his shoulder. His eyes hold a dark promise that he knows she won’t want him making good on. Her silence is enough of an answer. “That’s what I thought.” The door closes behind him, and as he goes, he leaves the key on the porch railing. Everything he values he’s moved out months ago, leaving Sharon in the empty skeleton of their home.

And when he returns to you, you’re in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on whatever it is you’re making. Barefoot, with a colorful apron tied around your waist. He leans against the door, just watching. It takes a few minutes for you to notice him, but when you do, you squeak with surprise.

“S-Steve! You scared me,” you chastise, frowning at him as you turn. “Where were you?”

“Out,” he offers by way of explanation, and you know better than to question him for a better one. “Smells good in here, doll.” you beam at his praise. “Got something special in there for me?” he nods towards the oven, and your smile turns bashful.

“Apple pie,” you admit sheepishly. He watches you reach behind yourself to massage at your lower back, before removing your bright red apron. His eyes move appreciatively over the growing bump now visible under your dress, and he licks his lips.

“How long before dinner’s ready?”

“I don’t know, like thirty minutes?”

“Perfect.” He crosses the room in two easy strides. “I want to start with my dessert.”

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve x you #dark!steve smut #steve rogers smut #boxofbones drabbles #boxofbonesfic #boxofbones hc

[boxofbonesfic]

Nomad!Rogers in a bar & reader recognizing him

OH fuck. you didn’t specify whether dark or regular so… i went angsty 😅

It’s not him.

It can’t be.

You’ve done this before, stared into the faces of strangers and willed them to be him, but it never is. It’s never him, always some poor confused man who bears only a passing resemblance at best to the one you lost. It doesn’t hurt less the more it happens.

And it’s never him.

But this time…the way the smile spreads slow across his face as he laughs at something someone says—you note, though, that it doesn’t reach his eyes—and you know. You’ve been so many places, and he promised—he promised—he would come back for you. Only he hasn’t, and it’s been a whole year, and you haven’t heard a thing. So you’ve wallowed in the silence until now.

It’s like glass in your veins just to see him, but you’re just drunk enough to let your gaze linger. He’s grown his hair out, and the beard—God, the beard—is new, but you would know him anywhere. His hands tense on the table, and your eyes travel upwards only to meet his own.

He’s looking at you. And you know he sees you, there’s no point in pretending he doesn’t. You don’t say a word, finishing your drink in silence as you turn back to the bar. You’ve never been here before, so perhaps that’s why his presence is such cruel, cutting irony. When you’re done, you pay your tab and rise from the stool, grabbing your purse. You leave a tip under the glass and make your way to the exit.

Five steps out of the door and you hear him, your name on his breath and for the first time since you saw him, tears actually begin to gather in your eyes. You don’t look back, and you try to keep walking, but a hand encircles your wrist, jerking you back.

“Stop.”

“Let go!” you shove at him. “Let go.”

“No. You’re drunk.”

“So? You don’t get to… to just appear and start giving me orders. I’m not one of your soldiers, Captain!” you spit his title at him like a curse, and he winces. “Though maybe if I was you wouldn’t have gone completely dark on me.”

“I didn‘t have a choice! I know S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. Questioned you. Monitored you. If I’d… If they thought I’d been in contact…Hell, if they’re watching now, do you know what could happen?” his voice breaks as he cups your cheeks with his large hands, thumbs running over your cheeks. He presses his forehead to yours and releases your wrist in favor of wrapping his arms around you. It’s been too long, but the feeling is all too familiar, and comes back too easily.

And then, suddenly you’re crying, fat tears rolling in hot trails down your cheeks, over his fingers and down your chest. It’s uncontrollable and ugly, and he presses your face you his shoulder as you sob. It hurts to leave him, hurts to have him back—you wonder if there’s a part of Steve that won’t leave you unscathed. You’re not foolish enough to let yourself believe even for a second that you‘d deny him.

He’s whispering soothing words to you through your hair, how much he’s missed you, how much he wanted to see you, how badly he wanted to be with you all this time.

“I hated you,” you murmur as he leans back against the wall of the alleyway outside the bar. He’s still holding you, and you don’t think he has any intention of letting go. You don’t really want him to. “I think I still hate you, a little.” you don’t like that it’s true, that the niggling feeling of doubt is still worming around in your stomach.

“I’ll make it right.” his hold on you tightens just a little. “I’ll find a way to make it right.”

#bones drabbles #boxofbones drabbles #sunday funday #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #ask the bones