des! 🥕✶

you roll your eyes but your reflection gives you away—the way your lips curve, your shoulders relax as her gaze finds you in the vanity mirror and stays there.

her presence settles behind you like a weight you welcome. she still doesn’t touch—not yet—but her hands come down on either side of the vanity, palms flat, caging you in.

“you don’t need all that,” she mutters, eyes flicking to your reflection instead of your body, like she’s trying to behave.

then she reaches up, gently pushing your hair aside. her lips brush the nape of your neck. “ya already look… gorgeous,” she murmurs, pressing another soft kiss before pulling back just slightly, just enough to watch your reaction through the mirror.

you finally meet her gaze in the reflection. “we won’t be late, princess. i promise.” you murmur, brushing a hint of blush onto your cheek.

the word makes her freeze. just for a second—but you catch it in the mirror. the subtle hitch in her breath. the way her jaw tightens, metal fingers flexing once before she forces them still.

“i’m not…” bucky says too quickly in her defense.

you tilt your head just a little, enough to catch her eyes again. they don’t linger on your face. they drop to your mouth.

that’s where her composure finally gives.

the dominance she wears so easily softens into something quieter. her metal hand shifts closer, knuckles brushing your hip like she’s asking permission without saying a word.

you smile and turn the chair you’re sitting on, just enough that your knees brush hers. the contact is light, but bucky still freezes. you reach up, straighten her collar, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingers.

her breath stutters. her eyes drop to your hands like she’s bracing herself—because even after all this time, you still make her nervous.

“relax,” you utter. “i’m almost done.”

she holds your gaze like it takes effort. then she nods once. “yeah,” bucky says quietly. “take your time.”

but the words barely settle before you move.

you reach up, hook a single finger into her belt loop, and tug her closer—enough to erase the last bit of space between you. bucky inhales sharply, breath catching like she wasn’t prepared for that kind of confidence.

“oh,” she whispers, the sound more like a realization than a response. as if she’s just caught up to what you’re offeringto her.

when she kisses you this time, there’s no hesitation left to hide behind. her metal hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb warm against your skin as she pulls you closer—like she’s done pretending she doesn’t want this just as much as you do.

your hands starts to wander until it falls upon her blouse. a small, subtle smirk forms on your lips when bucky, unconsciously, moans when you start to unbutton her shirt.

your fingers immediately find themselves unhooking bucky’s bra—or at least trying to. she chuckles low, pulling away from your kiss. “desperate now, are we, princess?”

you roll your eyes playfully in response to her teasing. your fingers fumble but eventually, finally unhooks her bra. “bed,” you whisper under your breath and she nods without hesitation.

she starts to walk backwards, completely unbothered to pull away from you. bucky collapses onto the bed first, and you soon follow, landing softly on top of her. “we’re not going to be late,” you start off, voice low and sultry. “i can show you how much time we still have.”

bucky bats an eyelash watching your hands work their way down to her slacks. “you’re so pretty, buck.” you mused as your hand slowly slips down.

bucky’s hands wander as she tugs on the hem of your dress, pushing them upward. your body reacts on instinct, legs shifting as your thighs parted, enough to draw a chuckle from her. “n-no..” your voice slurs as you try to insert dominance into the situation.

you cage her in between your legs, straddling her. your fingers push her panties aside, slowly but surely, you enter a finger inside her and a sweet, angelic moan escapes her chest.

you enter another, stretching out her walls. dipping down, you press your lips together with hers, swallowing bucky’s moans. your tongues danced in rhythms as your fingers deliberately goes in and out of her.

her metal hand grabs ahold of your clothed breast, squeezing them. her flesh hand is placed on your hips as if she’s grounding you until it reaches for the zipper. her fingers slowly unzips your dress from the back letting the fabric fall as she quickly tugs at the hem of your dress, pulling them off.

she smirks, proud when she finally sees you, her love, her girlfriend, almost bare naked on top of her as your fingers give her the best night of her life. bucky couldn’t help but to think she’s won in life. suck it, fuckers!

her hands slips under your bra, cupping your breast, thumb flicking across your nipples. in result, you moan at the contact of her cold metal fingers meeting your sensitive skin.

you dip down again, pressing a small, soft, and gentle kiss on her shoulders before removing your fingers that’s inside her cunt and immediately she whines. “b-baby… what—no…”

bucky starts to curse under her breath until her words start to become slightly more coherent for you. “fuck—honey, why would you do that?”

without a word, you slowly descend from straddling her stomach. parting her legs apart, you place yourself in between them. finally, you unbutton her dress pants, tugging them off and she helps you by carefully kicking them off herself.

your doe eyes gaze up at her with need and lust. she purses her lips, nodding for consent to which you respond by hooking your arms under her thighs, caressing her skin with the back of your hand.

you start to press your soft lips against her inner thighs, kissing her bare skin gently. “i’ll make you feel good, sweetheart.” you mumble against her skin, lips tickling her skin effortlessly.

she could practically moan—not that she wasn’t already—by hearing those words come out of her sweet girlfriend’s mouth, she felt addicted to the feeling of having her body all to herself.

soon enough you lower your head, dipping down to press your lips against her clit, you started off by a few innocent licks that left her biting her lip. you were taking your sweet time with her, savouring her taste on your tongue.

“fuck—bucky…” you manage to mumble in between kisses on her cunt as you slowly start to move down tp her entrance. circling the tip of your tongue around her gushing wet hole, moaning at the feeling of her fingers tangling themselves together with your well brushed hair, delicately.

your painted nails dig into her thighs as you continue to lap at her folds, occasional groans and mumbles leaving her lips like a silent indication of much she was enjoying this.

she started to move her hips, slowly grinding against your mouth to feel more friction from your tongue. moans then escape from her lips once you slowly slide your tongue inside her.

it wasn't long before she brings the pad of her thumb on her clit, moving it around slowly to add on to the pleasure whilst thrusting your tongue graciously slither in and out of her hole.

her metal hand falls to the back of your neck, fingertips brushing against your smooth skin. “fuck—right there, baby,”

soon enough, bucky’s body tensed, heart racing. she bites her lip, trembling at the edges of control. she arches back, trying to hold back the wave building inside of her and you immediately knew that she was close.

you didn’t halt. instead, your tongue worked faster than before to get her to reach her climax. her moans start to get louder as she’s teetering over the edge of her release.

“i-i’m close, honey.” she announces, fingers gripping onto your hair firmly but not enough to hurt you. you hum onto her cunt, sending bucky into a psychosis of ecstasy. she finally lets go, cumming around your tongue while a series of moans leaves her lipss.

you pull away from her throbbing core, hoisting yourself up. once bucky finally steadies her breathing, she wraps her arms around you, holding you close.

“next time, i’ll be the dom,” she murmurs, eyes locked on yours. you shrug, more than happy to let that happen.

her fingers drift up, brushing through the strands she had tousled earlier, smoothing your hair with careful, deliberate touches.

lovie’s m★sterlist

© dolcesaints ✮ ‘25 all rights reserved.

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You had expected a quiet night’s rest, but instead, you found yourself standing in your pajamas—half asleep and face-to-face with the man you thought had forgotten you after months of silence.

Bucky stood there, bloodied and bruised, one hand braced heavily against the doorframe. He looked like he’d crawled out of a nightmare. His long hair was matted and greasy with a fresh trail of blood trickling down his forehead.

“Bucky?” your brow furrowed as you opened the door a little wider, letting the warm light of your home hit his cold face.

You winced, taking in the dark red staining his skin. His pupils were blown wide—dark and glassy, nearly swallowing his irises. “What happened to you? You look terrible.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes lingering on the curve of your neck for a second before he looked up.

“It’s a long story,” he rasped, his voice straining in pain. “I didn’t know where else to go. Please... can you let me in, doll?”

Your heart ached at the sight of him. As much as you wanted nothing more than to pull Bucky into your home and care for him, you knew you weren’t being fair to yourself. He hadn’t spoken to you in months—only ever seeming to need you when it was convenient for him, whether it was gathering intel or needing a place to lie low.

“Bucky, you can’t just... show up at my place in the middle of the night whenever things go south for you,” you said with a sad, incredulous laugh.

You gripped the edge of the door, holding your ground despite how badly your heart was telling you to let him in. “Especially not when you haven’t spoken to me in months. It’s not fair to me.”

Bucky scrunched his face in pain, a low, agonizing growl vibrating in his chest. He took a staggering step forward, closing the distance between you but not yet daring to pass the doorframe.

“No, sweetheart... baby, listen to me,” he pleaded, voice cracking.

He reached out, his fingers hovering just inches from your skin, trembling weakly. “I know I haven’t been around much, and I know you don’t deserve this. But I didn’t have anywhere else to go—no one else I could trust with my life.”

He leaned his forehead against the doorframe, looking down at you through his lashes. He looked so much like a wounded puppy that it only tugged at your heartstrings even more.

“I’m hurting, doll. Badly,” he whispered, his gaze dropping back to the pulse jumping in your neck. “Please. Don’t leave me out here like this. Just let me in... and I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

As you parted your lips to deny him—to push him away—Bucky suddenly let out a sharp, choked hiss and doubled over. His hand clutched at his lower stomach as if a fresh shock of pain had just hit him, and when he pulled his hand away slightly, his palm was slick and dark with blood you couldn’t recall being there before.

Guilt started to eat at you quickly as he groaned. His breathing was heavy and ragged, and he looked utterly helpless.

Just one last time, you told yourself, a pathetic lie meant to quiet the warning bells screaming in your head.

I’ll help him tonight, and that’s it.

This is the last time I’ll ever let him in.

You cast a wary glance over his shoulder, peering past his hunched frame and into the darkness of the empty street.

“You’re not being followed, are you?” you whispered, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.

Bucky didn’t look back to double check. His eyes remained locked on you, watching the way your teeth pressed into your lower lip. He let out a trembling breath, his body swaying closer to you, but still not passing the doorframe.

“No,” he rasped, his voice sounding thinner, more desperate. “But I can’t stay out here in the open, doll. Please... I just need to sit down. I’m losing too much.”

He looked so small in that moment, despite his size—so broken that you felt like a monster for keeping the door even half-shut.

“Fine,” you breathed, forcing your gaze away from his broken one. You stepped back, pulling the door open wide to clear a path. “Come in. Quick, before someone sees you.”

Bucky wasted no time.

He stumbled past you, his shoulder bumping yours as he nearly lost his balance. As he crossed the entrance and stepped into your living room, the air suddenly went cold; you couldn’t tell if it was the rush of him moving past you or the outdoor breeze.

You pushed the door shut, the lock clicking into place with a definitive snap.

“Sit down on the couch. I’ll get a wet rag,” you said, keeping your back turned to him as you headed toward the bathroom to fetch the supplies.

You returned to the living room with a bowl of warm water and a clean rag. Bucky was slumped on the couch, his head leaning back against the cushions. As you sat beside him and began to gently dab at the blood on his forehead, you realized the red stains weren’t wiping away as easily as they should with a fresh wound.

“How’d you get these, Bucky?” you asked softly, your eyes searching the messy red smears for the actual cut. “Who did this to you?”

“Uh... just got into a fight,” he mumbled. “Some guys outside a bar. It got messy.”

You paused, the damp rag hovering over his temple. You had seen the aftermath of Bucky’s fights before; you had seen him walk away from a dozen men without a scratch.

“You never look this beat up after a ‘fight with some guys’. You look like you just went through a war.”

Bucky’s eyes looked heavy—like he was not only just tired, but also annoyed. He tilted his head, his dark, dilated eyes locking onto yours so intensely that it made your breath catch.

“Had a rough night, sweetheart,” he rasped, dismissing the question entirely.

Before you could press him further, he suddenly leaned in to invade your space. You were close enough that you should have felt the warmth radiating off of him, but instead, you felt nothing but an unnatural coldness.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low and hypnotic. “I forgot how good you smell. Like flowers and… something sweet.”

He reached out, his blood stained fingers grazing your jawline and leaving a faint, copper-scented streak on your skin.

“I missed you so much, doll,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips before settling on the side of your throat. “Come here... scoot closer to me. Can I just hold you for a second?”

You were flustered—your face heating up in a way that felt foolish given the situation. It wasn’t just his insistence on proximity that made you shy; it was the way he was talking. Bucky was usually a man of few words, his affection usually hidden until he had you in bed.

This was a man who was hungry—starved for your attention and your care.

This was a man who had no trouble maintaining eye contact while calling you names like ‘doll,’ ‘sweetheart,’ or ‘baby.’

This was not the Bucky you knew.

“Bucky, stop,” you managed to say, attempting to hide the creeping blush forming on your face.

Trying to regain some sense of control, you reached out and grabbed his hand. It felt like ice against your skin, a complete contrast to the warmth burning in your cheeks. You pulled his hand away from your jaw and began to wipe it clean with the damp rag, focusing intently on his dirty fingers so you wouldn’t have to meet his dark, dilated eyes.

“You’re being… a lot.” You murmured, scrubbing gently at his knuckles.

As you scrubbed at his knuckles, the rag started to tint a dark red, but the skin beneath remained flawlessly pale and cold. There were no split knuckles, no cuts, and no bruises.

You froze for a split second, but before you could pull away to inspect it further, Bucky’s fingers curled around your wrist. His grip was firm and unrelenting, tugging you towards him until you winced.

“I can’t stop,” Bucky whispered, his voice deep and gravelly. “I can’t do anything without thinking about you. Every time I’m out there, every time it gets dark… my mind always comes back to you, whether I want it to or not. It’s always been you.”

“Bucky—”

“And sometimes… I find myself getting stuck in these fights just so I have an excuse to come here,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the veins in your wrist. “Just so I can have an excuse to see you, because I know you’d take care of me. I know you’d always let me in.”

He leaned closer, his chest nearly brushing against yours. The wounded slump of his shoulders suddenly turned tense, replaced by a looming, heavy presence.

“Because you want me too, baby,” he rasped, his gaze dropping to the pulse point in your neck, which was now thrumming with a mix of excitement and fear. “I know it. I can feel it. I can even hear your heart screaming for me right now.”

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say while Bucky held your arm tight in his grip, suffocating your personal space with his heavy presence.

To say that you didn’t miss him would be a lie spilled right between your teeth—and one he would surely catch.

“I... I don’t know what you need from me—”

“I don’t need anything,” Bucky interrupted impatiently.

He could see the fear flicker across your face. Your eyes—innocent and unassuming—widened as you slightly recoiled from the way he had just raised his voice.

Bucky’s breathing grew heavy, coming in uneven pants as he leaned in even closer. His grip on your wrist tightened, holding you in place and forcing you to remain still as he moved his face closer to yours. His lips hovered just a breath away from your own.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke softer, reeling himself back in lest he scare you away. “I just need you.” He whispered against your mouth, the words and their implications sending a violent shiver through your body.

He tilted his head slightly, his nose brushing against yours in a way that should have been sweet, but instead felt like a predator gauging the distance to its prey.

“Tell me you want me too,” he commanded, though he kept his voice gentle.

Your heart was beating so loudly in your chest that you couldn’t have drowned out the sound even if you wanted to.

In truth, you missed him.

The few times Bucky showed up at your doorstep helpless and in dire need of aid were the moments you secretly relished—because it meant you caring for him, and in return, him wrapping you in his large, protective arms.

It had been so long, too long, since he held you.

And fuck, did you miss being held by him.

“I… I miss you, Bucky,” you admitted, the confession feeling like a surrender.

Bucky caught the flicker of resignation in your eyes, and a slow, knowing smile spread wide across his lips.

He had been reaching his limit. If you hadn’t given in soon— if you had kept questioning him and pulling away—he was going to stop the games and simply take what he wanted right here in the middle of your living room.

But this was better.

He much preferred you inviting him in willingly, just as you had unknowingly invited the devil into your home.

Without wasting another second, he closed the already small distance between his mouth and yours, his lips moving with a hunger that made your lower belly pool with heat.

In this new form, every sensation was magnified a thousand times over.

As he lifted his rough hands to cup your jaw with his fingers trailing down your neck, he could feel the frantic, delicate beat of your pulse beneath his fingertips. He knew the exact temperature of your skin and the sweet, dizzying scent of your blooming arousal—how your panties were getting wetter by the second as your mouth was getting violated by his own.

It was an intoxicating rush that went straight to his head, turning his hunger into something far more carnal, and far more dangerous.

He didn’t just want to kiss you.

He wanted to consume you.

Bucky deepened the kiss, his tongue slick and demanding as your breathes merged into one. He wanted it all—your love, your devotion, and eventually, every drop of the hot, copper life force singing inside your veins. He wanted to reach inside, tear you apart from inside out, and pull your very soul into himself until there was no telling where he ended and where you began.

His other hand slid from your wrist to the back of your head, his fingers tangling roughly in your hair to hold you exactly where he wanted you. He let out a low growl against your lips, the sound of a predator who had finally been allowed to feast.

You moaned softly against his mouth, and the vibration of that helpless noise was enough to make him deepen the kiss even further. His body—big and heavy—pushed against you, his hands trailing down to your waist to pin you flat against the couch that was already creaking with your movements. 

The kiss was desperate, hungrier than anything you had ever experienced with him.

You tried to pull back to catch your breath, but as your hands pushed gently against his broad shoulders, Bucky let out a disapproving growl. He tightened his grip on your hips, the sudden rough squeeze making you mewl and wince against his lips.

“Bucky, I—mmph—”

“Don’t say anything,” Bucky snarled against your mouth, watching you with half-lidded eyes filled with a lust and a hunger that shouldn’t be normal. “Don’t even think. Just feel, sweetheart. Just let me in.”

Bucky didn’t dare give you the time to respond before he was over you again, his mouth crashing onto yours with a force that made you whimper and press deeper into the couch. His hands—which had been gripping your hips—began to roam frantically, grasping and groping at the delicate fabric of your shirt.

His fingers curled against your collar, and your breath hitched as he began to pull. You tried to shift against the cushions, attempting to help him navigate the hem, but instead, he simply tugged—hard.

The front of your shirt tore clean through.

The cold air hit your bare chest, and you gasped, the sound choking in the back of your throat.

Bucky had always been careful with you. He had always been the man who unzipped your dress with trembling, hesitant fingers. He had never destroyed anything you owned, and he had never been this reckless.

Terrified, you wedged your hands against his chest and pushed. “Bucky, what’s gotten into you! You’re tearing my clothes!”

Bucky was forced back just an inch, his shoulders hunched over your frame as his chest heaved with ragged, uneven pants. He looked less like the man you loved and more like a cornered animal.

A low, upset growl vibrated in the back of his throat—an ugly sound of pure irritation.

“What?” he snarled roughly, the sound making you flinch.

You stared up at him, your heart fighting against your ribs like a trapped bird. The light from the warm living room lamp caught his face, and your eyes widened at what you caught.

His jaw was hanging slightly loose, and a thick, glistening string of saliva was trailing from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto his chin.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice small and trembling. “You’re… you’re drooling.”

Bucky froze, his eyes widening slightly—looking very much like a man caught red handed. His gaze darted over your face, taking in the fear written all over it, before he forced the tension in his shoulders to ease just slightly.

He reached up, his fingers gently wiping the glistening streak from his chin. He let out a low, breathless chuckle that sounded almost sheepish, designed to lower your defenses.

“Sorry, doll,” he murmured, forcing himself to sit up and lean back on his heels.

He looked down at you—at your lips, puffy and wet from his brutal kisses, and the shirt that lay torn and discarded.

“I… I must’ve gotten ahead of myself. It’s just been so long. I missed you so much, you know?”

He reached out, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. The gentle gesture made you finally release the breath you had been holding, your body losing its rigid tension.

He saw the subtle shift, and he knew he was winning.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered, searching your eyes. “I just can’t help it. Being this close to you… it makes me lose my head. You’re just so beautiful, and you smell so good—I can’t think straight.”

Bucky had always been so controlled when you two made love in the past. To see him this unraveled, this desperate for the mere taste of you, felt like a testament to how much he truly cared.

Shamefully, you had always wanted him to want you. But you had never imagined it would look like this.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, meeting the desperation in his eyes with your own. “I just—I’ve never seen you like this. You never really… drool.”

Bucky watched the flush creep up your neck and settle into your cheeks. He was still breathing hard, his chest heaving as he stared at your mouth, his mind spinning with how effortlessly he could make you submit.

He leaned in closer, his voice a low rasp that made you shiver.

“... Wanna taste?” he questioned, his eyes flicking down to his damp fingers before returning to your lips.

It was a filthy, humiliating suggestion—one that should have made you break eye contact in shame. But under the haze of his hungry gaze, the question only made the heat pool lower in your belly, forcing you to clench your legs together.

“I want all of you.” You admitted quietly.

Bucky’s grin was immediate. Those words were the ultimate invitation; for him, there was no backing out now, even if you wanted to. He reached out, his rough, cold hands cupping your cheeks. He gave them a firm, demanding squeeze, forcing your lips to part as he hovered directly over you.

“Open.”

You whimpered softly, eyes wide and brows furrowed as his large frame completely loomed over your timid one, casting you in shadow. He opened his mouth, letting a thick bead of saliva drop from his tongue directly into your waiting mouth.

It was disgusting, it was primal— and before you could even process the sheer, salivating amount he was feeding you, he leaned back down. He slammed his lips against yours with a needy moan, his tongue forcing you to swallow everything he had given you.

Bucky’s hands left your face and moved downward, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your pajama bottoms. He tore them away, baring your legs to his hungry eyes.

Another groan shook in his chest, followed by a quick sweep of his tongue over his lips at the sight of you. He lifted your legs, hooking them over his broad shoulders before gripping your hips to pull you flush against his hard body.

You felt completely exposed—your shirt torn, your bottoms discarded—and before you could even think to recoil shyly, Bucky was already descending on your inner thighs like a starving man. He started with soft, deceptive kisses, his lips shockingly cold against your heated skin, but the gentleness was fleeting.

The kisses turned into nibbles, and the nibbles turned into sharp, stinging bites that made you gasp and arch your back against the cushions.

Beneath you, the couch groaned under your guys’ weight. Above you, Bucky was coming apart at the seams.

Every time a soft, helpless moan escaped your lips, his entire body shuddered. To Bucky, the sound of your pleasure was like gasoline on a fire. The scent of your blood, rushing just beneath the surface of your warm skin as your heart raced, was like a siren song screaming in his ears.

His fangs began to ache, pushing against his gums, demanding to be used. It took every ounce of his remaining willpower—every shred of the man he used to be—not to simply sink his teeth into the soft meat of your thigh and drain you empty right there.

“Look at you,” Bucky breathed, running his rough hands up and down your bare leg before giving your thigh a possessive squeeze. “I could eat you right up, doll.”

A dark smile pulled at his lips. He began to rock his hips against you, his length hard and straining against the fly of his jeans.

Small, needy pants escaped him as he began humping against your bare leg like an animal—the rough, abrasive denim grinding unevenly against your skin with a desperate friction that made your head roll back.

You forced your half-lidded eyes open, blinking through the thick haze of your own lust. You couldn’t tell if it was the flickering, warm glow of the living room lamp or the dizziness of your mind, but his canines looked… longer.

Sharper.

Bucky looked like a beast starved just for you—and you wanted to be the very thing that made him lose his mind.

“Then do it,” you panted, your eyes hazy and unfocused with need. “Take me, Bucky. I’m yours.”

His smile grew impossibly wider, and he let out a short, cruel laugh—a dark, mocking sound that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He leaned down until his face was inches from yours, his breath smelling faintly of copper.

“You don’t know what you’ve got yourself into, baby,” he warned, his eyes swirling with a dark, bottomless void.

Bucky’s fingers fumbled with the metal teeth of his zipper. The sound of it sliding down was loud and frantic, and he nearly tore the fabric in his frustration when it snagged against the denim.

He didn’t bother taking his jeans off all the way. He just shoved them down enough to free himself, his skin surprisingly cold as marble against the flushed heat of your inner thighs.

“Jesus, Bucky!” you gasped, arching your back the moment he rubbed himself against your wet, slick entrance. “You’re freezing—”

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, his eyes rolling back into his head as he poked and probed his throbbing length against you. He dragged himself through your wet folds, gathering your sticky slick over his tip.

“And you’re so wet... so warm. It’s driving me out of my goddamn mind.”

“Are you feeling okay? You feel so cold—”

“I’m more than okay, doll,” he cut you off, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. “I’ve never felt more alive.”

Grabbing your hips hard enough to make you whimper, he pushed his hips forward, sheathing himself inside you in one heavy, unrelenting thrust.

Your breath hitched, a silent scream escaping the back of your throat as your eyes flew wide. The sensation was overwhelming. It was overwhelming enough to strip your senses bare, drowning out every thought until your mind went completely blank.

You gasped, your fingers digging into the couch cushions as you tried to accommodate him.

He felt larger, thicker, and far more needier than he ever had before. It wasn’t just his desperation of the moment; it was as if his new form had altered him physically, making him stretch you out to your absolute limit.

Bucky let out a long, shuddering groan, his head falling back as he stayed buried deep inside you. His muscles were rigid, his cold skin twitching with all the effort of not losing what little control he had left.

“God, you’re so tight,” he choked out, his voice dark and primal. “Feels so much better when I’m like this. I just want to break you open.”

“... this?” you managed to choke out, your head spinning. You wanted to ask what he meant—what he was now—but the question died in your throat.

Bucky didn’t give you the air to breathe, let alone the space to think. He let out a rough, animalistic sound— like a snarl—and began to move, pounding into you with a sudden, violent rhythm.

Each thrust was heavy, jarring shock that sent ripples through your entire body, the couch creaking and crying beneath you as he fucked you right into the cushions.

“Fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his jaw tight as he stared down at where his cock disappeared inside your warm cunt. “You’re so damn tight... it nearly hurts.”

The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt. Every time he bottomed out, a fresh wave of sparks danced behind your eyelids, your toes curling in the air as your cunt tried to clamp down on the very thing that was stretching you so thoroughly.

It felt wrong, it felt dangerous, but it felt better than anything you had ever known.

For Bucky, it was pure, unadulterated torture and ecstasy.

Being inside you was like being plunged into a furnace. Your warmth was intoxicating, a drug that his dead nerves were screaming for. He felt every clench of your tight muscles, every frantic pulse of your blood through your veins, and it made the hunger in his gut roar even louder.

“You’re making it—” he drew his hips back slightly with a pant, “—so hard—” he shoved himself an inch deeper, your walls restricting him until his jaw clenched in agony, “—to fuck you…” he forced himself to bottom out again with a snarl, “… properly.”

The couch shook, the wooden frame crying for help as Bucky used it to anchor his hips into yours.

“Bucky, careful—ah—wait, th-the… couch—!”

The moment your hands flew up to grab his shoulders for support, his restraint shattered completely. You were mewling, high-pitched whimpers escaping you, your mind so far gone you couldn’t form a single coherent word.

Bucky pounded into you with a force that was almost terrifying. He wasn’t just fucking you anymore, it was like he was trying to merge with you, to bury himself so deep that the coldness of his soul could finally be warmed by yours.

A low, snarl rumbled in his chest, a desperate sound that harmonized with the wet, slapping sound of his hips hitting yours. He was drooling again, thick strings of it falling onto your bare chest and chin, slicking your skin with the result of his hunger.

“So... gh... fuckin’ good...” his mouth was a mess of desperate, broken sounds. He was mumbling against your neck, but the words were incomplete. “… Mine... need to... st-starving...”

“I cant—I don’t know what you’re—oh!”

“Fuck! Gonna cum!” he roared, the words sounding more like a threat than a warning.

He buried his face into the soft, inviting column of your neck, inhaling your scent with a staggering, lung-bursting depth. His teeth began to graze your skin—nibbling at first, then testing the sensitivity of your flesh with his sharp, aching canines.

“Gonna pump you full while I drain you dry, baby,” he panted against your ear, his tongue darting out to wet the skin he was about to break.

“I can’t… gonna—” you squeezed your eyes shut, the sensation of being used so thoroughly by him finally overwhelming your senses.

Bucky felt the way you tightened around him, your walls fluttering in a frantic rhythm as his teeth grazed your throat, sensing how close you were.

A dark, predatory smirk curled his lips, his drool glistening on his chin as he prepared to take everything.

“This is what happens when you invite the devil into your home, sweetheart.”

“W-what was that—?” your voice trembled, not even registering his words entirely.

You forced your eyes to open, blinking back the stars dancing in your vision. When your focus finally landed on Bucky, the man hovering above you looked completely unfamiliar. His eyes were entirely blown out, a terrifying darkness swallowing the blue you once loved, leaving only his pupils gleaming a bright, dangerous red.

He looked down at you with a grin that could only be described as evil, his lips pulled back to fully reveal the unnatural length of his fangs.

“Bucky, what are you—”

The question was cut short as his hips snapped into you one last time, making your body jolt against the couch.

Bucky slammed into you with a growl, his cock filling you so deeply that it left the broken couch groaning once more. As he began to pump his hot, heavy load deep inside you, his head snapped down, teeth sinking deep into your vulnerable neck.

The sting was instantaneous and blinding.

You let out a broken, painful cry as he buried his fangs into the sensitive column of your neck, his jaw clamping shut as he finally broke the skin. The sensation was a terrifying paradox—the agonizing puncture of the bite clashing with the burning hot waves of your climax as he claimed you from both ends at once, draining you and filling you simultaneously.

He groaned against your throat, a deep, vibrating sound of unholy satisfaction, drinking your life force while filling you with his own.

As you cried out, the sound was abruptly stifled by the heavy weight of his hand clamping over your mouth. His palm was ice cold, forcing your scream back down your throat. He pinned your head against the ruined cushions, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he continued to empty himself inside you.

“Mmmph—mph!”

“Shhh,” he hissed against your neck, though the sound was more of a wet vibration than a word. “It’s okay… almost… jus’ take it… s’gonna be over soon…”

Bucky’s voice was a jumbled, incoherent mess, slurred by the overwhelming sensation of climax and the intoxicating rush of your blood hitting his tongue.

He was speaking into the wound he had made, his words lost in the sound of his own heavy swallowing. You could feel him pulsing inside you, a deep throbbing that matched the way your own life was being drawn out of your neck.

You felt your energy quickly fading, the sharp pain of the bite turning into a cold numbness that enveloped your entire body. Your eyelids grew heavy, and your world began to tilt and grey.

The room spun in slow, sickening circles, the ceiling receding as the lightheadedness of the blood loss took over your senses.

Bucky finally slowed, his throat hitching with one last, greedy gulp before he pulled his fangs from your flesh with a wet sound. He shifted his weight, slowly peeling his freezing hand away from your mouth.

“Why…” you somehow managed to croak, the word barely a whisper as your throat felt as dry as sandpaper.

Bucky sat back on his heels, his chest heaving as he licked his crimson stained lips. He reached up, casually wiping a stray smear of blood from his chin with the back of his hand, his eyes still glowing with a faint, satisfied embers of red.

“Don’t worry, doll,” he reassured, though you didn’t feel reassured at all.

He leaned over you, his shadow swallowing your trembling form as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear with such a gentle care that was never there before.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promised, a slow, possessive smile spreading across his face.

“We’ve got all the time in the world. We’ve got forever now, baby.”