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imperfect-scrawls · 1 year ago

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A Missing Headstone

Carter had worked at the cemetery for almost ten years now. As the groundskeeper, it was his job to make sure the cemetery looked presentable not only to appease the living relatives and visitors, but to respect and honor the inhabitants final resting place. He would come out every day to make sure the lawn was maintained, weeds were under control, trees were trimmed, and most importantly, that headstones were visible and clean.

He had really enjoyed the last decade of work, and he took in pride in his job. He loved coming to work every day, and the connections he was able to make with some of the frequent visitors were very special. There were many family members that would compliment his work in the cemetery because he kept things so clean and treated the graves with such respect. He even had a routine of saying hello to the names on the headstones as he worked to clean up around their areas. In the last ten years, he had never had any problems, which made it very strange when he went to work one day and saw that Mr. and Mrs. Smith were missing from their usual spot.

Carter was walking to the back end of the cemetery when he first noticed something was wrong. An empty cement base isn’t entirely uncommon, as they are required for new headstones to be put in. However, this was the oldest section of the cemetery, and there hadn’t been any open plots here since Carter had gotten the job. He walked closed to the empty base and stared for a while. There were no tire tracks, no indents in the ground, no scrapes in the cement that would indicate stone scratching against it. As he stared at the ground, only one thought went through his brain. Who the hell was strong enough to move a large headstone without a vehicle, machinery, or damage to the surrounding area? The next obvious question that came to the front of his mind was why? What reason is there to steal a headstone? That line of thinking led him to his next action.

Before he jumped to conclusions, he needed to call the city and see if there were any plans to remove the headstone. Sometimes, the city would make decisions and forget to tell him. That was why he came to work one day to find his favorite tree being cut down by the order of the city council. Apparently, they are not fond of cottonwood trees, and for that reason alone, they removed his favorite spot to take a break in the afternoon when things got to hot. Let’s just say, he wasn’t on the best terms with the city council after that.

After emails, text messages, and a short phone call later, he could say for certain that the headstone had not been scheduled for removal without his knowledge. It was absolutely missing, and with no evidence left behind as to how it was removed, there was no hope of actually finding it again. He said a quick apology to Mr. and Mrs. Smith and started on the rest of his work for the day, hoping that this would be a very strange one-time incident.

For the next week, Carter did his best to find any new information that could led to an answer about the headstone. He was making phone calls to anyone that might have seen something in the cemetery, talking to the police about what they could do to help, and still searching the grounds for any indication that someone had hauled off a half tone headstone. In the meantime, he had found a large rock, painted their names on it, and left it on their empty cement base. He tried to shake off the strangeness of the situation and go about his work as usual.

As he returned to the oldest part of the cemetery the next day, he was met with not only one missing headstone, but four. Three new headstones had joined the first in mysteriously vanishing. Once again, no signs of a vehicle being present, no disruption to the grounds, and no signs of damage to the bases where headstones once sat. It was as if they spontaneously disappeared. What he had hoped would be an easy day would now be filled with lots of phone calls and reports outside of his typical job description. He hoped again that this would be the end of the disappearing headstones, but from the looks of it, this was going to be a pattern.

Over the next five days, more and more headstones were disappearing. Ten more vanished from the old sector before the disappearances began to spread to other places on the grounds. An additional twenty were now gone from elsewhere bringing the total to thirty-four headstones that had vanished from the cemetery. Now, Carter was sure that headstones could not just grow legs and walk away. He had also been sure that he was mentally sound before the disappearances began. Now he was sure of nothing. Maybe the headstones were truly standing up from their resting places and migrating away in flocks to some sort of headstone paradise. No. That would just be ridiculous. But was it more ridiculous than unexplainable disappearances of headstones? He didn’t know anymore.

There were now guarded patrols that circled the cemetery. Families had to be called and alerted that their loved one’s headstone was missing. Nothing was simple or easy about his job anymore. He just wanted things to go back to normal, but most importantly, he wanted answers.

When random unexplained things begin to happen to people, it takes a special type of human to not let it drive them crazy. Carter was not one of those people, and he was starting to lose his mind. How the fuck did people move the headstones? What could possibly be the motivation for doing so? How have whoever or whatever gone unnoticed with a patrolling squad of people looking for them? That was when the news reports started to show up.

The first night he was one, he felt relieved at first. There were headstones going missing all over the country. No one had been able to figure out why or how, and now new outlets were looking for anyone that had any information regarding the disappearances. The next thing he felt was sadness. These people deserved more grace and respect in their death than to have the place of their burials manipulated. Over the next few nights, he made a plan. He was going to stake out the cemetery. Sure, there were already lots of people patrolling to make sure no one new got in, but what if the disappearances were happening from inside the grounds.

He grabbed a flashlight, a camera, and he went to the cemetery as the sun was starting to set. He was determined to find the cause. Since there was no predicable pattern for where the headstones would disappear from, he found a spot in the middle of the property to wait. Sitting under an old tree, the darkness of the night began to soothe his mind. His eyelids began to flutter with sleep. He slowly slipped into a dreamless void.

The sound of footsteps and soft humming roused him from his slumber. His eyelids slowly opened to see blacked sky and a wispy silhouette. The faint outline of a woman slowly walked past with a smile on her transparent face. She approached a headstone that Carter knew belonged to a woman named Abigale Lee. As her hand reached out to touch the headstone, it started to dissolved under her hand. He stared in shock as not only the headstone started to dematerialize, but her outline started to dissolve. He looked around as he noticed more transparent forms walking the cemetery paths. Each one finding a headstone and then disappearing upon contact.

Carter couldn’t believe his eyes. He had to be dreaming. There was no way that this could truly be happening. As he tried to rationalize all that he was seeing, the sound of footsteps began to approach from behind him. He turned around, anticipated another transparent figure, only to be met with an opaque body that appeared to somehow glow. The figure wore flowing fabrics and shifted in color the longer he looked at them. With a smiling face, the figure spoke.

“Hello Carter. We have watched you for a long time. You have always been so kind and generous in your work. We apologize for all the troubles we may have brought to you. Unfortunately, there were some changes in the policies of Heaven and Hell. There isn’t really a good way to communicate that with the living world. We wanted to give all people the opportunity to grow, change, and complete any unfinished business they had in this world. As a way to keep track of that in a more tangible way, when people have finished their period of growth and finished their extra work, there gravestones are taken from this world.” The figure had uttered this into the air without the movement of lips.

“When the policies were changed, no one really thought about the effects it could have on the living world,” a second figure had said from behind Carter with a disgruntled voice. He must not have noticed them approach. As he turned to look at them, he noticed their appearance shifted even faster than the first. Colors blurring together and facial features morphing under his gaze.

The first figure spoke again, “There was no good way to inform you of this, but because of your dedicated service to these people, we wanted you to know. We wanted you to have some explanation for what was happening to the space that you cared so deeply for.”

“We won’t have a chance to talk to you again. It was a nightmare to try and get this visit approved in the corporate office,” the second figure complained. It muttered in a angry tone, “They make stupid decisions and expect us to just solve all their problems for them.”

The first figure sighed and addressed Carter again. “We will be going now. Thank you for all of your work Carter. We’ll see you again someday.”

With these final words the two figures disappeared and Carter was left staring into the empty space with his mouth agape. There were two options that he had in that moment. He could accept everything that had happened as reality, or he could pretend it was all just some very vivid dream as a result of falling asleep in a graveyard. There was only one real option. He had never been the type of person to dream, and even if he had been, this was all too real for him to simply brush away.

That night, Carter came to three conclusions. The first was that no one would ever believe him about what happened. If he tried to tell police, news reporters, or even his boss what happened to him, they would surely send him to a mental health facility. The second was that he could probably do with a career change. A decade in the grounds keeping business was more than enough for a lifetime. And lastly, this whole experience reconfirmed how much he hated committee decisions made by people with no understanding of how jobs are actually done. It was just like the city council all over again.

#writing #original writing #creative writing #mystery #an attempt at humor #based on a prompt #my writing

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gutsby · 10 months ago

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Trigger Tease(r)

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Before his morning briefing, your mob boss husband decides to take a pit stop in the sauna with you.

Warnings: 18+. Oral (f!receiving). Gentle fingerfucking. Praise and degradation. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Bucky talking you through it. Bimbofication if you squint.

Notes: @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast - you inspired me 🪽 I just had to crank out a little teaser for the third installment of Wedded Bliss. I hope y’all like it 💓

Full version here

In between breakfast and the start of your husband’s early briefing, you found yourself situated in much the same way you’d been spending a lot of time these days: pinned up against the wall of a wood-paneled sauna, Bucky’s broad shoulders supporting both of your legs as he buried his face deep between your thighs. You sighed.

“Hold still,” Bucky grunted, voice muffled as he tried to keep your slick, squirming body in place above him.

You yelped and seized a fistful of his hair when he wedged his tongue even further inside you, nudging your clit with his nose almost too teasingly and deliberate.

“I can’t…help it,” you bit back, ignoring the brief glare you earned from your husband as soon as you said it, “Your tongue’s just so— s— James!”

This time, Bucky let out a full-throated groan when you yanked on those poor wet locks of his—‘Gonna make me bald by next Christmas if you keep doin’ that, honey’—and he pried his head from your legs just long enough to knock you flat on the sauna bench close by.

The western red cedar seared hot on your skin, already flushed from the exhaustion wrought by Bucky’s tongue; you hardly had the strength to hold yourself up when he pushed you onto your back and crawled over your body.

“How ‘bout my fingers, doll? Can you take a couple’a those for me?” Bucky crooned above you as he stroked your hair, bathed in pure sunlight pouring in from the windows. His voice was a touch more sympathetic now.

After all, this was your third orgasm of the morning. It really wasn’t fair for him to use that biological weapon of mass destruction he liked to call his tongue when he knew how sensitive your clit would get from just one ‘O’. Even his hands might be too much in your current state.

Bucky was busy peppering your skin with kisses, working his way from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, when you whimpered and tried to fight a smile.

“Finger,” you corrected him, “Just one finger, Barnes.”

You would’ve thought you’d just thrown your wedding ring in his face and told him to eat shit. Just one?

“How’s one finger s’posed to stretch you out for my cock, huh? Practically had you screamin’ when I stuck it in last night,” Bucky wasn’t one to hide his amusement, grinning even bigger when you swatted him on the arm.

“Who said anything about your cock?” You tried to keep cool as Bucky’s fingers trailed right back down to the place you felt yourself throbbing, aching for his touch, “You have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Meeting doesn’t start until I say so, my love,” Bucky reminded you just as his index ghosted over your folds.

In truth, he was willing to play this game any way, and for however long, you wanted it done, so long as he was the one bringing you pleasure. Be that his cock, his finger, or all fucking five on one hand, Bucky just wanted to get you off. It was better sustenance to him than the whole damn meal the two of you had eaten that morning.

Bucky kept it down to one digit and lightly circled your bundle of nerves when he sensed you were ready.

You gripped his forearm and shot a quick look between your legs, still in disbelief as to how he could make you feel this good so soon after you’d cum twice before. You felt his lips drift over to yours and steal a few kisses.

“Always doin’ so good for me,” Bucky praised, moving his finger in circles. When you whined against his mouth, he pressed it even harder, “Such a good girl for daddy.”

“James,” you breathed, clenching your legs together.

“Everything OK?”

“Uh-huh.”

More than OK, in fact. That delectable coil of sweet, euphoric release was already swelling gently in your tummy. Bucky moved his finger even faster.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured low in your ear.

Bucky loved seeing you try to articulate your feelings—relatively fresh and new to your world, still—while he was giving you pleasure. Adored the way you winced and whined and arched your back into his touch as a whole blustering hailstorm of sensations crashed over you.

He sank his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you, as if trying to extract the words from between your lips. Your response, in consequence, came somewhat stifled.

“Mm— feels so, oh—” Your voice broke off in a moan when Bucky tightened his circles, “—so good, daddy.”

“Wanna show daddy how good and cum for me?”

Bucky knew by the way you were whimpering under his hand that the tendril in your stomach had almost tripled in size. It wouldn’t take much to tip you over the edge.

“My sweet girl,” he said, rubbing your cunt at the same time he was stroking the back of your head, gently, “Feels so nice down there, doesn’t it?”

You rolled your hips against the bench and nodded. Your breaths were short and ragged, panting helplessly into Bucky’s mouth when he adjusted his hand just a little: pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit, with his index moving down to your entrance. Pushing inside you.

“Another,” you choked, not thinking.

Bucky met your desperate gaze and nodded, knowing this was exactly what you needed to make it over the precipice.

Still, he wouldn’t be Bucky if he didn’t tease just a bit.

“I thought my wife wanted one finger,” he hummed, brow pinching inward.

“No, no.” You could’ve shrieked when he curled the digit, “Want more— Bucky, please, please, I need more.”

Again, your husband appeared to nod in understanding, but his fingers didn’t budge. He worked his thumb a little faster and watched you writhe on the seat beneath him.

“How many, honey? Don’t wanna hurt my baby.” His words were all kindness, it seemed, but his tone laced with shameless condescension—the kind that said, yes, I know you need this, and no, I won’t indulge you just yet. Bucky was the worst when he wanted to prove a point. You could’ve ripped at his clothes and torn them in two if you weren’t both stark naked and shrouded in steam.

You opted to pull at his hair instead.

Bucky winced, but the smirk never left.

“I said how many?” he pressed again.

“Three. Four.” Fuck if you knew.

Your husband raised both eyebrows and hummed, a single finger still plunging in and out of your cunt in quick succession. He teased the tip of another at your entrance and smiled even more when you whined.

“Needy little thing, isn’t she?”

“Bucky—”

“Just wants to fuck daddy’s hand to get herself off, hm?”

Bucky didn’t bother to mask his sweet, degrading tone any longer as he talked down and teased you to no end. It drove him half-insane to see you squirm around, rut your hips, let him say the filthiest fucking words he could conjure up, and just bob your head to whatever he said. His impeccant wife and her insatiable needs—Bucky couldn’t even begin to express how turned on the sheer dichotomy got him. He stared in your eyes, all glossy and soft, and felt his cock stand even more rigid on his belly.

He didn’t give a shit if he’d taunted you enough or not; he just shoved his middle and ring fingers alongside the first and clenched his jaw to start fucking you hard with all three.

Your whole face contorted with pleasure, tinged with the faintest shade of discomfort at the tail end of it. You’d forgotten how big his fingers felt all together.

“Bucky,” you whined, mindlessly clawing at the wrist that was moving back and forth, fast, between your legs, “B-Baby, slow— slow down a little.”

But Bucky was deep in the zone. He knew you wanted it too—sensed that you liked to play it safe when it came to your pleasure and grew a little timid at times it got to feel too much—and he needed to talk you through it.

Rather than turn his head and keep to himself as he got you up to your peak, Bucky pressed his face down to yours and nodded again—this time with a tender sincerity.

“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”

You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Bucky kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his fingers wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,

“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”

“My perfect fucking wife, so good at taking my fingers.”

“Gonna be nice and stretched out for my cock, hm?”

Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Bucky wanted you. Exactly how you needed to be, bucking your hips in time with the cadence of his fingers fucking inside you, and soon, those whimpers were turning to moans as that soft little helix inside you reached its breaking point.

Bucky brushed once or twice more against your sensitive spot, and suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his wrist you feared you might snap it in two, and then getting kissed again, over and over while Bucky drank in your every sound, and the few tears that sprung to your eyes as they always did, like sweet nectar.

You were still moaning, curling your tongue feebly against his own and leaning into him as far as you could, when your husband slipped three fingers up between your mouths and pushed them past your parted lips.

“Suck,” Bucky said, gritting his teeth as he watched you, “C’mere, honey, taste your cunt on my fingers.”

You took him in and sucked your arousal off his fingers just like he asked. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his hand, where your juices had no doubt collected too.

That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Bucky could’ve wanted.

He climbed on top of you and took the base of his cock, rock-hard and weeping tears of precum from the tip, almost drunk from the feeling himself. His mouth hung open as he dragged himself over the seam of your cunt.

“I need to fuck you.”

Taglist (STILL HAVE TO UPDATE THIS I'M DUMB AS SHIT): @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx, @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes, @wilsons-striped-ties, @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @fandomsfeminismandme, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic, @dameron-grant-spector, @sushiseoks, @deansapplepie, @mrsjoequinn, @lunaroserites, @first-edition, @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi, @excusememrbarnes, @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl, @diannana, @shawnberry, @yujyujj, @urmomsalex, @mrs-bucky-barnes-73, @athenabarnes, @christinabae, @wintrsoldrluvr, @bethbunnyy, @i-heart-smut @dixsond

#THE TITLE WILL MAKE SENSE LATER I PROMISE #it’s ‘tease’ not ‘teaser’ in the full fic that was just my attempt at humor #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #mob bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob boss bucky #mob!bucky

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