#bones drabbles

Brave Masterlist

Title: Brave

Pairing: Orc!Steve Rogers x Human Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of an orc raid on your village, you are given a choice: adapt, or die.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual Smut, More tags to be added

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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.

two—and i wrote both of them 😂 one was the mom in rattler, i thought that might not go over so well with others, lol.

two is… really dark. i wrote it out partially about three years ago, but now i’m re-writing it now. i would really hate to see someone steal this idea, so i’m gonna stick it under a cut 😂

so i don’t really have any, unfortunately, but how about a drabble?

Title: If I have to crawl

Warnings: Mentions of drug addiction, references to character death, angst

A drabble following the last chapter of Devil Between Us

My next question is: do any of our men (Bucky, Steve, all of the above) have a reaction to it?

https://vm.tiktok.com/TTPdjRRPSc/

AKDJFJGJOSOWPAKGJSJALD I'M DECEASED???

i guess a warning for implied smut

Steve's a gentleman about it. Like... he's a super soldier. He can hear your heartbeat, smell you... so he absolutely knows when you begin wiggling on his lap during game night. He feels the way you heat up, blood rushing down to your swollen folds.

Steve wonders what you're thinking--wonders what dirty little thought has wormed it's way into your brain to make you start to go all soft and slick in his lap.

Your heartbeat speeds up as you turn around to whisper, "Steve I'm gona get down." He doesn't want to cause a scene, he certainly doesn't want to embarrass you--but his hands tighten on your hips as you start to move, and he presses his lips to the back of your neck.

"No, doll." He whispers, and he knows you can feel him smirking against your skin as your scent compounds. "You're right where you need to be."

Bucky's... somewhat less tactful. You've been seated comfortably in his lap for the duration of the first movie in Peter's marathon. But now... he's getting handsy. It starts fairly innocently at first, Bucky tucking your head beneath his chin, pressing soft kisses into your hair.

His hands rub soft circles into your hips through your shorts, the cool fingers of his vibranium fingers caressing the skin just beneath your t-shirt. And that's when he feels it--the heat gathering at your core, and your heartbeat. Fast but steady, thumping against his thigh.

Fuck.

His hands can't help but wander then, traveling up to stroke the skin of your belly, holding you still while he presses his thigh hard against the growing dampness in your panties--

And then Steve clears his throat. Bot loud enough for anyone to notice, but when he glances up, his best friend is barely holding in a mischievous smile, and Bucky's own face heats.

"We gotta go," he says suddenly, dragging you up to standing. You squeak with surprise as he pulls you from the room. "Bye."

As he briskly walks you down the hall, he hears Tony's voice.

"What the hell was that about?"

omg you know i love me some dark!Skinny Steve--

"Can I use your bathroom?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I completely understand if not, it's just--"

"N-no, don't worry about it--" You glanced down at your phone's bright screen to confirm his name. "Steve." He's scrawny, with only an inch or two on you, if any. You're not a fighter, and you hate thinking the worst of people, but you're pretty sure you can take him in a fight if it comes to it.

Steve lets out a big sigh of relief. "Thanks so much." He flashes you a bright smile, and you step back into the entryway.

"Second door on the left."

You watch him make his way into the bathroom before you duck into the kitchen. You're starving--a double shift on your feet sees you digging into your food eagerly.

It's only after a few bites of your sandwich that the chalky texture clinging to the bread becomes apparent. You take a sip of your drink to wash it down, but it's there too, cloying and bitter underneath the processed sugary sweetness.

The pipes rattle with the flush of the toilet, but you only dimly hear it as you begin disassembling your sandwich, pulling the layers apart to find the source of the powdery substance.

Nervousness churns in your stomach as you peel the lettuce away from the bread, spying clumps of powder mixed messily into the mayo.

What is that?

With trembling fingers, you scoop one out wiping it onto one of the takeout napkins scattered over the surface of your table.

The nerves turn to fear as you press down on the little white pebble, and it crumbles into dust.

Not powder. Pills.

"I didn't mix it in as good as I normally do, but I couldn't help myself, not when I saw your picture on the app." Your head snaps up, and Steve is standing in the doorway to your kitchen, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Y-you what--" A wave of dizziness hits you, and you struggle to stay upright.

he absolutely does omfg

He’d never ask you to take on all of the domestic responsibilities—he likes that you have a job you enjoy doing.

But he can’t deny that he gets hard as a fucking rock when he can smell pie as soon as he pulls into the driveway. And God help you if you’re wearing a sundress or an apron—and the lord must be testing him constantly because you always are.

and he gets mad at you if you‘re too distracted and you forget. You’re just sitting at the table, typing up some reports for work, and he sets your sandwich down in front of you.

“You mad at me or somethin’, toots?”

The sandwich is half way to your mouth as you stop abruptly and look at him confusedly. “What? No, Buck, ‘course not.”

“It’s just… you’re ignorin’ me,” he says in a soft voice, his lips forming a petulant pout as he picks the crust off of his bread.

“I’m not ignoring you, babe, I’m working,” you say patiently, only for him to roll his eyes. You know Bucky can get a little… needy when you’re too caught up at work, and you try to think back to when you might have neglected him.

“ ’S’just, the little stuff you do that lets me know…” He trails off embarassedly. “Forget it.” You reach for his hand.

“No, Bucky, if it’s bothering you, I want to talk about it,” you assure him.

“You just don’t touch me like you always do.” He admits after a moment, and you can’t help the giggle that emerges from your chest.