#yes exactky thats them

[doorlene]

one of my favorite headcanons is sirius and marlene feeding each others delusions when it comes to crushes

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Permafrost . A fantasy AU

A On The Prowl... spin off for @geld-sama

Nsfw

Warnings. brief. Non con. Vanilla, Impregnation.

Where was he? It was late out and the incubator keeps asking for him. Was he killing the kittens? Shoto had no idea if Shinso was even capable of such a thing. The leopard grew impatient , flicking his tail around the grass.

Atleast Bakugo was quiet for once , probably because he had to deliver the kittens but oh well. What would happen if the kittens were his? They would all stay together right?

Chizome had offered the incubator food but she declined it , how can you deny food? Werent you hungry? Were you just going to sit and wait for Shinso and not do anything else?

Shoto was bored, and needy . He wanted his turn too. He wanted kittens too. Shinso returned finally, stopping near Shoto to show him the kittens. His eyes grew wide when he saw them . Alive and purple. He had no chance to say anything though. Shinso had went to you dropping the kittens on your lap.

He watched from his look out spot. Your smile, your tears. You were so happy the kittens were alive . When could he experience that too? Soon? Never? Waiting was becoming more and more difficult.

When Shinso told the pack his plan Shoto was taken aback by it. Split up? Why? Because of Aizawa? So? Why? Bakugo is in charge? Nothing will get done. All the incubators will die. He made a fist, fire creeping up his fist to his arm for a second then quickly dissapearing. Bakugo left first , Chizome followed soon after.

“Id rather not have us split up.” He finally said once they were alone, besides you.

“Its for the best, Todoroki”

Was it? Was it really? We all had been together for a very long time and he was just going to throw it away? Just like that? How could you? ..I want a family too. But i wont find it here i guess, ill look elsewhere.

“You were a good Alpha.”

Even if it was for a short time, it was better than Aizawa. Shoto gave Shinso one final nod before taking his leave and joining the others.

•••••

They wandered, not knowing where to go exactly. Chizome was the only one with a good nose and he had to lead them around. It was a little anoying, all Bakugo did was complain that he was hungry and horny.

Chizome enjoyed the walk obviously, he was a wolf. And Shoto was starting to think he was leading them no where just to extend the walk. He did have time to think though.

He thought about kittens for the most part. Shoto was covered head to paw in pure white fur . Unlike the other three who had more human bare chests and arms. He was covered. Would his kittens be like that too? It kinda made him insecure since he was the only one like that. If he had kittens he would not be alone but.. for some reason the incubators feared him the most, sure they feared Bakugo but not as much as they feared him. It hurt him, he would always go feral over it, nearly hurting them. Loosing his cool in such a way hung over his head, he felt more animal than .. human? Was he human?

•••

“Hey Icy hot!! “ Roared the angry lion .

Shoto shook his head seeing Bakugo and Chizome in front of him and what looked like a giant sign with a forest behind it, he could smell a river too, and a camp fire.

“Dog breath led us to a campsite. Lets rest here”

“It looks nice dont you think?” Chizome said , his tail wagging .

Shoto lifted his nose again sniffing the air his eyes widened then got smaller again. Chizome smelled it right? He had too. Bakugo might not, his nose is the weakest out of all of us.

Shoto looked to Chizome and the wolf pawed his snout winking. Incubators, if he could just get a glimpse without Bakugo knowing... “Its very nice. Lets rest here” Shoto said, his tail wagging slightly.

The three set up camp in a isolated area next to the river. The sign had indeed said Camp Site. Confirming where they were, they were no longer near the jungle, this was a new place.

•••

Shoto went off on his own while Bakugo was asleep, Chizome was out looking for food. Shoto followed the smell of the camp fire , he needed to know, to see. He wanted to touch them. Were they soft? Were they different than the villagers in the jungle?

He pulled some branches aside looking forward and a chunk of ice fell out of his paw. Incubators, three of them. All talking , having a grand ole time by the fire. One was laughing rather loudly, it irked him, the second one was drinking something that burned his nose when he sniffed the air. The last one though, you were snuggled under a blanket by the fire just watching the flames dance, you looked very content with your life.

Something in Shoto connected, he needed to have you. Make you his.

You saw him first, he was not exactky hiding, he was half behind a tree and just staring. You rubbed your eyes only to still see him. What is that? You got up with the blanket still around you , you told your friends you would be right back and they waved you off .

Its coming over, its getting closer, its so cute . What? Cute? Wait. What do i do? Think Shoto. Thi-

“Excuse me..?” You said shyly, you had the blanket on your head.

Shoto had fire spark ok his arm for a second , you stepped back and he held his massive paw out to you. You clutched the blanket around your neck gazing at his pure white fur.

“Beastmen..? Your.. your real?”

“Y-yes. Im .. real”

“Ive.. only read books on you. Your..”

Im what. A monster? Just say it..

“Your so beautiful.”

He shot you a look and you stepped closer , touching his paw with your hands. You were so warm, so soft.. your skin was like freshly washed fur on a sunny day. Smooth and gentle.

Shoto held his other paw out to touch your cheek, soft.. delecate. He needed to have you. Shoto was about to say something but a roar caught everyones attention. You cowered and Shoto wrapped his arms around you looking all over till he saw Bakugo running towards the other girls . He looked like a feral mess , tongue hanging out, claws out, drooling. Chizome was with him and he stopped running to look at Shoto.

Bakugo cant have you, he will kill you. Shoto gave Chizome a nod and the wolf waved with his ears down. Shoto scooped you up in his arms taking you away from the scene. You peered over his shoulder to see your friends on all fours naked and being bred by a lion beastmen and a wolf beastmen. You dug your face into Shotos shoulder trying not to hear their screams for help.

••••

Oh fuck, dammit, why, stupid lion. Where am i going? I dont know this area. They smell so nice. Where am i? Is it safe here now? Im still running but i dont know where im going. Its all forest still.

You gently tapped his furry chest making him stop , he heaved dropping to his knees holding you. His breath was hot on your face and smelled like coals. He squeezed you tight and you tried talking to calm him down.

“I know .. from stories what you are. What you were born to do. But i never expected you to be real.” You pulled the blanket off and laying it ok the ground spread out.

He looked at you when you left his arms. Where were you going? I dont know if its safe here.

“Can i know .. your name..”

“Shoto.. Todoroki...”

“Im Y/N.. uhm i..Shoto. Will you breed me?”

He nearly fell forward into your arms. His tail was flicking wildly, scattering nearby rocks and sticks. He gave you a look of hope. Wide eyes and an open mouth, smiling slightly.

“I.. your giving up your life..”

“Shoto.. this is the life ive been waiting for.” You pulled off your pjs and panties, you rolled over getting on all fours looking back shyly. “I uhm.. please. Ive been so interested in Beastment ever since i started reading about them. “

Was this really happening? A incubator offering themself? Its never happened before . She was not scared , she.. she wanted kittens.

“You want this..?” He asked moving closer, standing up on his knees, his cock hitting your plump folds. It was enough to make him cum right there.

“Yes. Yes Shoto.. ive always fantasized .. about this. About kittens.”

He gently grabbed your hips , inching his own forward , watching the head slip inside you, your folds stretched and you dug your nails into your hair trying to adjust to his size. You screamed once but thats it. He stretched you farther then what you were use too. But once he was in you warmed right up, it felt like you had just stepped into a over heated room. Your core was shaking for him, and his thrusting did not help either. You came instantly , it was unlike any orgasm you had felt before, your thighs shook and you were seeing stars around your head.

You were so sensitive that your pussy was twitching around his cock, sucking him in deeper and deeper. Shoto had started out messy but he corrected himself and pumped into you in long steady strokes. Should .. should he mark you too?

Shoto leaned down over your back , you looked back at him, face red and wet cheeks. He asked you and you agreed as fast as you could. Shoto moved back a bit till he was at your shoulder. He growled in his chest and bit into your shoulder sinking his fangs in. You came again and Shoto did too this time. His paws wrapped around you and a satisfied grunt muffled under your shoulder .

His pace slowed to a complete stop but he did not pull out. Instead he let go of your shoulder , he looked at the mark for a minute , not messy and easy to see . Good. Carefully he laid down with you in front of him, his cock still buried inside you, securing his seed.

“Sho..to..”

“Y-yes..”

You looked back and he licked your wet face till it was clean of tears , you reached back holding his face close to yours, kissing him.

[lovelybarnes]

you are 100% right on the vibe

it's like limbo in avengers world. everything is calm but like. they just got off a shift of saving the world and they're exhausted and there's blood on their hands and it's so devastatingly normal for them that it's a little sad but it's their domestic which is so contrasting

and ohmygod your last line YES THATS EXACTKY WHAT I WAS PICTURING

no literally the purpose behind this fic was that last grocery shopping part but i was like i should include it on a shopping trio but make it interesting. and then i was like you know what makes anything better? being covered it blood and BAM and it WORKED

Grocery Trip- B. Barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: none About: grocery trip a/n: sorry about errors i don't feel great rn

The jet’s seats should be more comfortable, you think.

For all the money Tony’s poured into these things, the seats must be softer, have a little more spring. You shift when the flimsy armrest that’s been digging into your lower back begins to feel more tiring, straightening up and letting your eyes flutter shut.

You’re not tired, although you assume you should be, stretching your fingers out and frowning lightly when even that shoots a prickly ache up your tendons.

Your nails are stained pink, still besmirched with a tasteless metal after ages of hot water and soap up to your elbows.

There’s a spot of dried red on the floor in front of you. You don’t have any more cereal. Licking your lips and tasting a tang of iron, you turn to Bucky next to you, index and thumb pinching at one of the straps on his vest and pulling gently. Slowly, his eyes meet yours. There’s a smudge of blood above the rise of his eyebrow.

“I think our pantry’s empty right now. Fridge, too,” You tell him. “I’m pretty sure we were supposed to go shopping today.”

“Okay,” he replies, unsure of your point.

You look up at him expectantly, a little too tired to want to think by yourself.

He understands after a silent second, a sly arm coming to loop around your waist. “You wanna go now?”

You stare up at him and shrug, knowing well you shouldn’t put it off when you’re not not in the mood to go grocery shopping.

“Alpine is out of food,” Bucky points out.

“Didn’t you buy a bag last week?”

“You put food in her bowl every time she stares up at you right. She’s gonna get fat, y/n.”

You frown at him. “She’s from the streets, Bucky. I think she deserves to be at least a little fat.”

Bucky sighs somewhat exasperatedly, some of the darkness of his eyes rolling away like clouds on a stormy day. “Okay, then. We have to get more cat food.”

You laugh then, the uneasy mood in the jet honeyed thanks to Bucky. “And cereal,” you chime.

“Limes,” he continues, staring off in an attempt to remember. “Peaches.”

You turn to look at Tony, stretching a leg to poke his calf with the tip of your boot.

His head lolls lazily toward you. “What?”

“Bucky and I need to go shopping.”

“Now?”

“Can you drop us off at a grocery store? Please.” You ask as an answer. “Somewhere with fancy cat food.”

Tony stares blankly for a moment, silent enough for you to begin creating a plan B, but you’re beneath yellowed fluorescents with a promise of a car coming by to get you later a few minutes later.

You send Bucky off to get some cucumbers while you go to wash your hands once again, steps light and very nearly giddy against the linoleum floor. The averageness of the store is so dull that it’s a colorful relief, something bright and cold rushing up your skin and bursting with a familiar energy, like the high of a sugar rush in the pale light of a television.

Even the ice of the metal handle of the bathroom awakens you, pushing it open with the bruised angle of your elbow and meeting your own eyes across from you. It’s startling to see yourself beneath the pale light of the bathroom, your face weary but calm in the smudged reflection of the mirror, eyes alight with that surge you can still feel.

The right side of your face is splattered with hard minute bubbles of wine stuck to your cheek. A sticky chill goes up your spine, gross and making you feel unclean. You blink at yourself, shimmying your shoulders to make it go away.

It disappears when you plunge your fingers beneath the cold water, clean skin rubbed raw with another round of soap. Your nails remain a shade of red darker than they should be.

Humming in dissatisfaction, you tug at the paper towels peeking out beneath the machine, tearing off a long piece and keeping it with you when you push the bathroom door open.

You wander among the aisles until you find Bucky in the produce section, staring intently at a pyramid of peaches.

“Make sure they’re not too ripe,” you remind airily, walking up behind him to cock your head at the fruits.

“I always get bad ones,” he mumbles. It’s not meant as a push for you to do it, more of a determination to get it right.

You twist your lips in disagreement but don’t reply, turning to stare at the left side of his face. There’s still red above his brow, just as you thought there would be, and you crumple the napkin in your hand as you lift it to his face, patting his skin gently with its wet side.

A swipe of scarlet turns to pink dotted with vermillion, your gentle swipes on his skin carrying away more of the it and leaving a residue meant only to harmlessly remain.

He only offers you a curious glance before getting back to it, finally picking up a peach with a scrutinous glare.

“Too ripe,” you sing lightly, not looking away from your task. “The other one you had was good.” 

He mumbles something to himself, dropping the one you’d specified into the bag.

You pat his cheek once it’s clean, too, part in pride that he’s finished with the peaches and part in satisfaction at the lack of contrast between dark cherry and electric blue.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Super-soldier girlfriend duties,” you explain, tucking the paper towel into your pocket.

“Well then, you’re a very good super-soldier girlfriend.” He lets a thumb dance just above your cheekbone, where a bruise dots its beginnings. He frowns. “Do we have any frozen peas left?”

You grin widely. “Look at you. You know my favorite frozen vegetable to ice my wounds.”

“Well, I’m a very good Widow boyfriend.”

You run an index along the rise of his nose. “You are.” Then, a tap to the dip of his cupid's bow as you move a little closer. “Cat food,” you whisper.

“You’re a tease,” he complains when you move back, watching you walk away from him. You look back at him over your shoulder and grin.

“Come on, Widow boyfriend,” you entice. “Our cat needs food or she’ll yell at us.”

“I’ll yell,” he threatens, dragging his feet as he trails behind you. “Cereal first,” he reminds just before you pass the aisle. He doesn’t so much as pause when he arrives at it, sparing you a glance as you prance back to him with three boxes of cereal. “Do we really need that much?”

“Yes,” you confirm curtly, dumping them inside the cart. “Barnes household likes their cereal.”

He hums. “Produce is done, cereal is done. What’s left?”

You list off your fingers as you resume your slow walk next to your boyfriend. “Cat food, of course. Popcorn, cookies.” You pause. “My list is sitting on the kitchen island, right next to our empty tub of pasta. Oh, pasta.”

He stops, taking three steps before he finds the bowties and linguine, and throws two bags into the cart.

“You wanna pick up the food? I’ll grab the rest of it,” he proposes.

It’s sweet, an effort to get this over and done with quicker, but you have learned to appreciate the humming lights of the supermarket, the squeaky wheels of each cart you seem to pick, even the high-pitched squeal your boots manage to make when you turn on a specific tile. It makes returning to your apartment gloomier, as if highlighting the end of the night and overshadowing what the start of it means.

“Let’s go together,” you amend, shuffling closer to him and ducking beneath a bulky arm. “Can we?”

He settles around you, turning his chin nonchalantly to press a kiss to the space between your brows. “Sure.”

You grin up at him and detangle, rolling your shoulders. “So, which popcorn did you like best? Lime? Sea salt? The really greasy ones?”

“Which ones were your favorite?” he asks.

“Lime, but I know they weren’t yours.”

“How would you know?” he accuses, stopping at a jam sale in front of the chips. The popcorn selection starts only a few steps away from you, colorful and wide.

“Because you never finish the bag.”

“I leave it for you.”

You huff, walking to the boxes of kernels. “You’re only so nice because you didn’t like them.”

You pull out a box of sea salt and a box of lime, stopping just before you’re out of the aisle to grab the greasy ones.

“Why’d you ask?”

“Why didn’t you answer?”

Bucky twists his lips and sends you a look, its thin indignance falling away when you push yourself back into his chest. Automatic, he wraps his arms around you. “Y’tired now?”

“No.” You yawn, body betraying you.

“Uh-huh.”

You peel your face from his chest, appointing his hands as the sole reason to you upright as you let your head drop, arms limp. “Leave me be,” you complain.

He snorts, tugging you close with a start. You squeal, hands coming up to grip him soundly. “Two things left,” he reminds.

You smile, freezer chill hitting you from next to you. “Most important.”

“Most important,” he confirms, steadying you before he starts walking again.

As if renewed, by his touch, by the store’s manufactured winter, you're chatty again. “How many boxes of cookies should we get? You want those strawberry ones? The chocolate chip? Those wafer ones with the chocolate filling?”

“One.”

“One of each.”

“One.”

“Why!” you complain. “I deserve cookies! We deserve cookies! Why are you doing this to me?”

Bucky chuckles at your misery, turning into the cookie aisle. He doesn’t go far, walking only a few feet to drop the wafer cookies in the purple box in the cart, and turns around, staying silent when you skip to the other end and come back with two different boxes beneath your arms.

“You’re worse than the damn cat,” he gripes.

“Who still needs her food,” you chime cheerily. “Do you remember which brand makes her sick? Is it the one with the green or the paw?”

“Back in my day, cats ate what they found in the trash and they liked it,” Bucky grumbles.

You glare at him, scanning the variety of cat food along the shelves. “You say this as if you aren’t the reason we’re buying her fifty-dollar food.” You make a delighted sound when you spot the familiar black case speckled with cat figures.

“Fifty dollars!” Bucky exclaims, coming up next to you and taking the food from you. He checks the price tag as he sets it down in your cart, shaking his head. “Alpine eats better than I do.”

“So, what I’m hearing is, you want to eat,” you tug at an edge, balancing it away from you to read the lettering on the case, “​​’wet meat in gravy and pumpkin soup.’ I have to admit, I didn’t take you for the type.” 

“Alpine likes it just fine.”

“Alpine,” you say mournfully, “is a feline.”

He is wonderfully unable to help his laugh, softening it with an eye roll and a reminder that it’s late and we need to pay, menace.

Helpfully, you bend over the cart handle to leisurely pick items up one at a time and hand them to Bucky, who takes them with a kind graciousness as he shoves various grocery items on the mat. You send him a toothy grin when you choose to pick up a box of cookies after a few seconds and he responds with a surreptitious press of his lips.

The cashier reminds you of your state when you stand next to Bucky and watch him hand her his card, hand in the air for a few seconds because she’s staring at the spatter of blood that dots your face.

To her credit, she snaps back quickly, pasting a weak customer service smile and wishing you both a good night.

Headlights peek out from the clear margins of the cloudy sticker pasted on the store windows, alerting you of Tony’s kept promise and sending with it a reminder of home. Then, as an extension, an overwhelming exhaustion only cured by your bed and blankets and pillows.

Bucky is quick to take advantage of your distraction, gathering the bags in his hands and bumping your shoulder gently. A question of “do you want to go?”

Not really, you think briefly, but the abhorrent green of artificial lights begins to ink into the cracks of the ceiling.

He begins to walk when you nod, a few steps ahead when you turn to grab bags and see nothing left. With a soft grunt, you hurry to open the door for him, spotting the car Tony sent in one of the parking spaces further away.

The bags strain beneath Bucky’s curved fingers, and you hold out a hand to offer help. He turns to you, glances from your open hand to your face, and gathers all of the bags in his left arm, curling his free fingers around your outstretched ones.

“Punk,” you murmur affectionately, letting him guide you to the car with a sweet squeeze of your hand.