Secret Identities (Marc Spector, Steven Grant, And Jake Lockley X Reader)

Omg you mothers are amazing !!!

I really cannot understand how you manage to do so much !! 😭

I’m sending you all the love ❤️ !! And good luck for everything!

And it blows my mind how you can write such good fics while having so little time ! YOU ARE AMAZING 🤩

Blessing you with these two fine ass men because I haven’t been able to interact with you today and I missed you 🥺❤️

I miss you too!!! Work is kicking my ass today and I haven’t had a second to write anything 😢

I’m just going to spend my break drooling over these handsome men 🤤🤤🤤 ahhhh I need to watch season 6 so I can remember how sexy Tommy is!

Ps: I got your request and I am happy to write it babe ❤️❤️

My heart is genuinely beating so hard right now!!! I think I might die from happiness!!!

Enamored [34] - The Masquerade

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback my loves, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please let me know what you think, thank you! ❤ And as always, thank you @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter and the story❤

Summary: Anything can happen at a masquerade.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules.

Word Count: 5500

Series Masterlist

You had always loved masquerades.

Picking a costume and a mask was almost as fun as the ball itself and now that your costume was here, you could hardly wait until the ball tonight.

When you woke up the next morning, the whole house was buzzing. The preparations were almost over, but of course there were always last minute changes and Aunt Lavinia had insisted on supervising everything with Cecily. Instead of sitting down to have breakfast, you just grabbed your plate and made your way to the ballroom, humming a tune to yourself. If your mother were here, she would have surely scolded you for carrying your plate around and not eating while sitting down, and yet, you were curious to see how the ballroom looked.

And as soon as you got there, you held your breath, stopping dead on your tracks.

Keep reading

Fuck this is so good !!!

Sweeter than Sugar

Summary: She broke his heart but you're not going to let her win. Bucky deserves the best and you're going to give it to him.

Pairing: Chubby Baker!Bucky x Reader, mentions of former relationship with OFC.

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Smut, Oral (fem receiving), body shaming by OFC, language, mentions of insecurities. painful break up (not reader) bit angst, fluff. As always 18+ only.

A/N: Do not copy, rewrite, repost or translate my works. Comments and reblogs are welcomed. Beta'd by the lovely @deann and @makbarnes but all mistakes are my own.

A/N II: @star-spangled-bingo 2021 Squared filled: Curtain fic and @gotnofucks Body positivity challenge

"Wait till you try this. I think this is my best batch yet." Bucky promises as he pulls the tray out of the oven with his vibranium hand.

You cringe for a second before remembering that he can handle the heat.

You stretch, looking around the large bright kitchen. A fresh breeze floats through the open window carrying in notes of rain and freshly cut grass and the faint sounds of the neighbor's kids playing with their dogs.

Leaning back in your seat, you turn your gaze back to him, a faint smile on your lips as he blows on the pastries, cute little puffs he named after you.

His blue eyes shine under the soft yellow lights, an apron under the swell of his pudgy belly. He looks incredible, wearing only a pair of black boxers that stretch across the curves of his ass. His hair is pulled back into a small bun at the nape of his neck, and there's always something smeared across his cheek.

Yesterday, it had been red velvet frosting, and today, cherry.

Bucky scoops a puff on to a small white plate, grabbing a fork from the drawer. He beams, his entire face radiant as he walks towards you.

That's the look that makes your stomach twist and leaves you feeling dizzy.

Dating Bucky has been a dream. He's loving, kind and he looks at you with such love that you lose your breath just thinking about him.

According to him, you've improved his life in several ways; he swears his food tastes better now, that you somehow make his cakes perfect, his frostings sweeter, and well, he can’t look at a peach without grinning like a drunk-in-love idiot.

You’ve spent many late mornings and lazy afternoons watching him patter around the kitchen, listening to him explain his baking processes while you lounge in a chair.

You don’t understand half of what he’s saying, but he speaks with such passion, his hands animatedly flying in the air as he talks about chocolates, melting points, and the differences in pans.

Bucky has discovered early on that he loves to watch you eat. To be more specific, if it's his food. Only his food, if he’s being honest. He gets so nervous every time that his stomach plummets because he wants to make things for you.

Give you so many things.

Starting with your own custom-made pastry.

“Here, Peach, it just melts on your tongue,” his deep voice lowering to a near moan.

He slips the pastry into your open mouth, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip as you swallow. Oh, your eyes almost roll back in your head when the flavors explode on your taste buds. You’ve never tasted anything that wonderful.

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you gasp, leaning forward for more. “I-that’s so good! Can I have another?”

He grins, lopsided and wide, his heart thundering so hard it feels like it might fly out of his chest. Bucky will give you pastries as much as you want if you keep looking at him like that. He puts his all into his baking and the fact that you enjoy it makes him feel as if he can walk on air.

Bucky kisses your forehead as you chew, pushing away from the table, he slides on his sock-covered feet to the fridge. “What do you want to drink?”

“What do we have?” You giggle as he dances in front of the fridge, calling out options for you.

It’s hard to believe that the carefree man in front of you is the same one that was ashamed to remove his shirt a few weeks ago.

Bucky holds your hands at your sides, fingers laced between yours as he feasts between your thighs. He promised to make you come for him at least three times and you swear it’s been double that by now. His warm, wet tongue flicking over your swollen, sensitive clit over and over, sucking and pulling it into his mouth like he can’t get enough of you.

You moan incoherently, voice hoarse from begging and mewling, your legs limp around his broad shoulders. “Buc-Bucky, oh right there, Bucky,” you plead, feeling pressure build in your belly as his tongue traces patterns over you.

Bucky grinned, his face covered in your slick. He can’t remember the last time he had a better meal in his life. “That’s my girl, so sweet, need one more taste, just a little more,” he whispers before his lips wrap around your clit again. Your mouth falls open in a wordless scream, back arching off the bed when he gently shakes his head, sucking so hard that you see stars.

Bucky groans actually groans deep and vulgar when you cum,and you feel it as your body explodes, waves of pleasure surging through you until you’re gushing on his beard. He eases up, nuzzling into your puffy folds as you come down from your high. Bucky looks up, his dark slate-blue eyes taking in your heaving chest, a bead of sweat rolling down your belly.

“One more?” he says hopefully, wanting to dive back into your pussy.

Your eyes widen as you frantically shake your head. “No. Oh no. Bucky, I can’t, I really can’t, I’m not sure I can handle any more.” You laugh breathlessly, tugging one of your hands free from his tight grip. You rake your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him. "Besides, I’ve been dreaming about you fucking me until I can’t walk.”

A faint blush sweeps across his cheeks as he averts his eyes. “Peach,” he mumbles shyly like he just didn’t spend the past hour worshiping your pussy with his mouth.

Bucky stands up, wiping a hand down his face. He stares at his glistening palm for a second, and then his pink tongue darts out, swiping across the wet surface. You wonder if he’s aware that he's moaning, your pussy throbbing at the guttural sounds.

“You’re filthy,” you jest when he does it again. His face gets even redder as he sucks on his finger.

“You taste better than my pies,” he retorts. “I could eat you all day, every day.”

“Tomorrow, for sure, but right now I want you inside me.”

His smile drops a little when you tell him to get undressed. He’s been dreading this moment, doing everything he can to avoid it. You scoot back on the bed, reaching out for him. Bucky looks down at his body, at his belly, his eyes narrowing, he scratches the back of his neck, telling himself he can do this.

He lifts the edge of his navy blue Henley, freezing when he hears her voice in his head. “Who would want a fatty? No one is going to love you looking like that.” Even now it stings thinking about her. Bucky glances over at you, his heartbreaking at the thought of you rejecting him.

Bucky drops his shirt and reaches for the lamp. “One second.” He says. An unmistakable hint of sadness in his voice has you sitting up. He’s never sounded like that before.

You tilt your head to the side, searching his face. “Bucky, what’s wrong?”

“Just gonna turn the lights off first.” The corner of his lips lifts in a weak, watery smile.

You move to your knees and grab his large hand before he can switch them off. “Why?”

Bucky swallows, “no reason, just like the lights off, 'is all.”

Bucky’s admittedly good at a lot of things, but lying isn’t one of them. He briefly meets your gentle gaze, worry and fear swimming in his beautiful clear blue eyes.

Placing your hands on his chest, you grab his chin. “Bucky, look at me.” He immediately follows your soft command. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Bucky blinks, shaking his head, almost confused at the thought that you could do anything wrong. “No, no, you’re perfect! It’s me. I don’t wanna disappoint you.” His voice tapers off in a whisper, hearing her sharp laughter the last night they were together. “I know I’m fat, so it would be better if we turned off the lights, that way you don’t have to look at me. “

You stare at your generous, doting boyfriend. “Why wouldn’t I want to look at you?,” you question, befuddled because who on earth would jump at the chance to see a naked Bucky Barnes.

He shrugs a shoulder, his somber eyes drifting down. He grabs his belly and jiggles it. Another shrug followed by a quiet, “I look different with my clothes off.”

You crane your head back, “I love your belly, it’s perfect. Who made you feel like you have to hide it?”

Bucky sighs, rubbing his cheek into your palm. “My ex, Moxie- “

Bucky dated her two years ago. She latched on to him when he and Steve bought the bakery, wanting to be the girlfriend of the rising baking star.

Bucky slowly gained weight as he sampled his baking and designed dessert menus for local restaurants, his joy for baking expanding each day, finally getting to see his dreams become reality.

He hadn’t noticed the changes in his body until one night Moxie cruelly pointed them out.

He was getting ready for bed, eager to be with his girl after a full day of running around. He had been telling her about how another restaurant wanted his input, so excited to share his news that he didn’t notice the way she glared at him.

Tossing his shirt in the hamper, he turned to her and smiled, his hands on his belt. “I’ve been thinking about you all day baby, I can’t- “

Moxie sneered at him, pretending to gag. “Are you serious?”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “Um, what?”

“Um, what,” she mocked, pulling the blanket up to her chest. There's a pause, tension seeping into the room. “You know what, I have to say it, I can't take this anymore James. Look at you and look at me, why the fuck would I let you touch me anymore?”

Moxie sighed, “can you put on your shirt back on or something because that- “she gestured at him “-is disgusting” She let out an irritated groan when he flinched at her words.

A punch to the gut would have hurt less. Bucky felt his heart split. “Moxie,” he whispered, unable to find words to express the pain currently ripping through him.

“Look, I didn’t sign up for this, you were in shape when we got together, what the hell happened to you? Why do you think I stopped letting you touch me.” She ranted, ignoring his soft pleas for her to stop.

“Either lose the weight or I’ll fuck Steve, at least he still looks good.” She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, yawning, “can you go somewhere else, I don’t want you accidentally rolling over me and squishing me in your sleep.”

His mouth floundered open, but he couldn’t speak. It all hurt too much, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, the air was too thick and his chest grew tighter with each breath; he needed to get away, terrified of what might happen if he cried in front of her.

Bucky shuffled out the room, his heart shattering with every step. He thought she was happy, that he made her happy. Her laughter following him out to the hallway made his head droop even more.

What did he do wrong?

He spent the night on the couch, staring at his old pictures through tear-filled eyes, Bucky always had a little fullness to him, but he was always happy with his body. And he had been having so much fun with the grand opening and all the new opportunities that he never noticed that he stopped needing belts and his shirts were a little snug over his belly.

Bucky called Steve, his best friend fuming when he told him what happened. By the time he was done speaking with him, Bucky felt a little better, his heart may have been in pieces but he knew what he needed to do.

He kicked her out the next morning.

Much to Moxie’s surprise and Bucky's. He may be chubby but he's not going to be her pushover either.

Bucky ignored her apologies and said she had to go. It shocked her when Steve had shown up with a roll of garbage bags, tossing them at her feet with a sharp quip that he doesn’t fuck losers. Both men stood side by side, watching silently as she packed her belongings.

The only things she left behind were his broken heart and a few nagging insecurities that plagued him.

He finishes, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of his confession, you want nothing more than to stamp out the sadness marring his beautiful eyes.

“I thought she loved me but--“ he sighs, “--I don’t want you to look at me the way she did, I love you too much, Peach, and I know I should probably lose a few -”

You’ve never been angrier in your life. You want to punch little Ms. Moxie in her throat, she better hope she never runs into you because they will have to pry you off of her.

Clearing your head, you clasp his face in your hands and pull him down for a kiss. “Bucky Barnes, you are the sweetest man I know, you’re beautiful and I love everything about you.”

You silence his objections with another kiss. “I mean it Bucky, I love all of you. You don’t need to change anything.”

Bucky swallows the small protest, letting himself relax. You’re not her, you won’t hurt him. Placing a kiss on his soft, round belly, you murmur, “you have no idea how sexy you are, honey.”

You stand on the bed, holding on to his bicep for balance, and tug his shirt off. Looking down at him, you bite your lip. He’s ridiculously handsome and you’re going to prove it to him.

You pepper kisses along the curve of his neck as you sink back down, praising him and telling him how much you love him, describing in vivid detail how each part of his body is perfect.

His confidence and love for you growing with each word. By the time you reach the band of his boxers, he panting, his eyes darkening with an almost feral need to possess you.

Bucky tears off the last barrier keeping you from him and he pounces. You giggle as he pushes you into the soft blankets, the solid, comforting weight of his body encompassing you as he kisses you with such passion you forget to breathe. His warm lips melding into yours, his wet tongue dipping into your mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue as it dips into your mouth.

Bucky reaches down with one hand, grabbing his cock, his other hand cupping the back of your head as he deepens the kiss. He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours so he can gaze into your eyes. Bucky watches your mouth fall open, a gasp pouring out when he guides his thick cock into you.

He rolls his hips, moving deeper into your wet, hot heat. “That’s it Peach, you’re so good,” He brushes his lips across yours, swallowing your oh Bucky as he stretches your tight pussy around him. The slight burn gives aways to pure bliss, you circle your hips after a minute. A quiet I’m ready breathed into his mouth.

Bucky thrusts languidly into your pussy, each deliberate slow drag of his throbbing cock against your soft walls sends bursts of pleasure up your belly and down your spine. His lovemaking tender, yet so possessive that your head is reeling.

He makes sure that you feel all of him, each inch as you clench down, greedy for more of him, even as he goes deeper and deeper, his soft lips caressing your neck. His body keeping you pinned, so you have to take everything he’s giving you.

That pressure builds again, heavy and hot in your belly, digging your heels into the top of his thighs, you meet his strokes, pleading with him to please move a little faster, you need it so bad.

You don’t have to beg; he wants you to cum for him; he wants to feel your sweet pussy flutter around him as you cry out his name.

Bucky sucks a bruise on your throat, his hips pounding into yours. The headboard smacking against the wall with each powerful thrust. The dull thuds drowned out by your loud moans, the pressure getting more intense.

“Bucky,—” you cry out, scratching his lower back when he grinds his hips down, “—oh fuck, do that, do that again,” you frantically chant, slapping your hands on his ass, keening when he does, god yes, he does it just right, hitting a tender spot inside your cunt so hard that you bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming.

“That it Peach, is that what you need.” He slips a hand between your bodies, his wide fingers circling your clit, “Go on, cum for me, give it to me Peach, be my good girl, and cum for me.”

You do, your walls clenching down as the pressure snaps, sensations firing off as your orgasms winds through you. Bucky’s pace falters, becomes erratic when he feels you milking his cock, unable to hold himself back any longer he lets himself go, relishing in your warmth until he spills inside you.

He tries to roll off of you, but you wrap your arms around him, murmuring for him to stay for a minute. You smooth your hands over his slick back, Bucky relaxes on top of you, grinning at your contented sigh. “I love you Peach.”

“Love you too,” you respond, plotting all the ways you’re going to let him know how much he means to you.

After that night, you began to praise Bucky, complimenting his body every chance you got, smacking his ass whenever he walked past you, hugging and kissing him.

The first couple of weeks, he would hide his face behind one of his large hands and his cheeks would resemble one of his bright red apples. “Peach, you don’t have to, I mean I’m-” he would stammer each time, always tucking his hair behind his ears.

It took you three days to figure out that he has a praise kink and you amped it. He barely opened his eyes before you were saying something that made him hide his face behind his pillow, laughing when you wiggled under it to tell him how good he looks when he smiles.

While you loved making him blush, you cherished how confident he became. And you reaped the benefits, one second he was a bashful baker with buttercream frosting on his forehead, the next he was bending you over his counter, railing you so good you couldn’t even scream his name.

After a while, he stopped avoiding the bathroom mirror in the mornings. And you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face, the first time you saw him cooking, shirtless, in the kitchen. He turned when he heard your footsteps, his face turning that familiar shade of red as you openly gawked.

“C’mon Peach, don’t you start-” he playfully grumbles, his lip twitching as he held in his smile, he moved back to the frying pan turning off the stove as he braces himself.

You squeal, flinging yourself at him, peppering his back with kisses. You couldn’t contain the litany of praises on your tongue, so proud of him. Bucky twisted in your grasp, cupping your face in his hands. “God I love you Peach.”

Bucky and Steve are celebrating the grand opening of another bakery. The largest one to date. The new building is full of investors, press, other bakers and chefs, a live band playing in the corner, drinks, and food everywhere, and of course the tower of desserts in the middle of the room. The atmosphere light and airy, glasses clinking, people dancing and every kind of cake, pies, and pastry imaginable on silver platters through the room.

You’ve never had so much fun, although a slightly buzzed Bucky is having an even better time because you’re wearing one of his favorite dresses. You remember when he first saw you in it, you twirled out of the dressing room and he nearly lost it in the middle of the store.

The more he celebrates, the more he’s giving you that look. Steve has to keep interfering, he’s close to going feral in front of all his guests.

Steve sent him to the kitchen after he caught him trying to put his hand between your thighs. You’re laughing as a contrite Bucky gets up from the table to refill the rapidly diminishing display.

“You know I’ve known Buck my whole life and I’ve never seen him this happy.” Steve remarks as he takes a seat across from you. His warm blue eyes glistening. “Thank you for that. He’s been through a lot and you’re the best thing that happened to him.”

Your cheeks get heated at his words. Steve leans forward, holding your hand between his. “I mean it, even though he’s getting on my last nerve talking about you.“

Steve squeezes your hand as he looks up at the ceiling for a second. “God, the man never shuts up, and I’m this close to strangling him if he compares you to another peach, but I love-“

He cuts off, his head jerks back so fast, you think something struck him. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

You turn around in your chair, searching the crowded room. “Who are you talking about?”

“Moxie,” Steve spits out, his hand curling into a fist. “White dress by the bar.”

You find her flirting with one of the investors. Moxie puts her hand on his chest, her shrill laugh cutting through the surrounding conversations. Whatever she tried fails spectacularly. The tall, sturdy blonde grimaces and walks away. You would almost feel bad if you didn’t want to slam her face into the wall.

She spots Steve and waves, making her way through the crowd. “Hey, long time no see.”

Steve raises a brow, his eyes hardening. “Why are you here?”

She laughs, patting his shoulder. “I’m here to apologize to Bucky, I know he misses me, he must be lonely.”

“Really?” you question, keeping your voice light and even.

Moxie dismissively glances at you before returning her attention to Steve. You chuckle under your breath, tapping your heel on the floor.

Don’t ruin your man’s event. Don’t ruin your mans’ event. You repeat the thought as you inhale through your nose.

“So I heard you two are doing really well.” She says, her manicured nails roaming over Steve’s suit. “Really well.”

Steve flicks her fingers off him, “We are. No Bucky’s not lonely. He doesn’t miss you. He’s very happy. With her.”

Moxie’s polite veneer cracks when Steve points at you. Waving your fingers at her, you grin at her. “You go near my Bucky and I’ll rip that cheap necklace off and shove it down your throat.”

She turns to Steve, gesturing to you as if she's the innocent one here; he raises his glass, blowing a harsh breath through his lips. “Don’t look at me, I still don’t fuck losers, but I’ll call if you if that changes.”

You laugh in your empty glass when she sputters. She turns to you, hand on her hip. You slowly raise your eyes, returning her stare. Part of you wanting her to do something, so you can wipe the smirk off her overly painted face.

“Whatever, I don’t need this. Keep the fattie. I can find another rich loser like that.” She snaps her fingers, storming over to the bar. You blink a few times in disbelief. The audacity of this bitch, thinking that she can stay and mingle at his event.

You're debating if you should have her thrown out by one of the staff or if you should drag her out by her hair.

You look her up and down as you ponder your choices, pausing when you see the edge of a tag sticking out the back of her dress. Hmm, interesting. She must plan on returning it after tonight.

A devious smirk slowly takes over your face, you know exactly what you’re going to do to little Ms. Moxie.

You glance at Steve, picking up his wineglass. Steve shakes his head while grabbing your hand. “Hey hey, I know what you’re thinking, and no.”

Before you can say anything, he’s pouring more burgundy wine into the glass until it’s nearly sloshing over the sides. “If you’re going do it, you gotta do it right.”

You exchange knowing glances. No one hurts Bucky. You saunter over to her, keeping your hand steady, not wanting to lose a single drop on the floor.

“Hey Moxie,” you call out. She turns around and you ‘trip’ over your heels, the deep red liquid flying forward in a perfect arch, splashing across her ivory dress, her face and you even got some in her hair.

“Oops, gosh, I am so clumsy,” you state, hiding your grin as she shrieks.

Steve jumps up, offering to help before she can swing at you. “I got you, darling.”

He places a hand on her back, quickly ushering her away “a little club soda will get that right out,” he reassures a pouting, whining Moxie.

He's lying through his teeth, that stain will never come out. Steve gets a peek at the price tag, almost laughing at the $899 imprinted on the card. He maintains his façade, leading her through the room, he stops, giving her a wide smile.

“And you can find some at the drugstore down the street.” He states, opening the front door and pushing her out. Her indignant shouts cut off when he slams the door in her face.

You throw your head back and cackle, startling some guests around the bar, you apologize for your outburst between fits of laughter, wiping the tears pricking at your eyes. You wave down the amused bartender, placing an order for you and Steve.

Steve joins you, raising his fresh glass of wine in a toast. “No one fucks with Bucky.”

"No one."

Neither you nor Steve realizes Bucky saw the whole thing. He ducks back into the kitchen, clutching the tray of Cannelés to his chest. For weeks after the breakup, he had rehearsed what he was going to say that next time he came face to face with Moxie.

But what you and Steve did was even better, the love of his life and his best friend always looking out for him.

Loving him unconditionally.

And just like that, the last traces of his insecurities vanished.

Later that night, you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder. He smiles at your hand on his belly. He places his large hand over yours, wondering how he got so lucky to have you.

And if Steve would kill him if he named another dessert after you.

He’ll risk it.

Oh yeah

You're getting married to your Tumblr pfp how fucked are u

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Hi I had an idea and though I’d request it if you don’t mind. Asgard didn’t get destroyed, Thanos was defeated and Loki is alive. Thor is king and invites the avengers to Asgard for a ball and an announcement. During a tour the team sees Loki in the gardens and are like “wtf is he doing out of prison”. They see him laughing and whispering to a woman. Thor calms them and tells them that the special announcement is Lokis betrothal. They get introduced the the reader (princess whatever) and are shocked because she’s delicate and sweet where Loki is dark and mischievous. Loki and Thor share a smirk because they know what a fierce warrior she is on the battlefield yet can be dainty and ladylike in court.

This was cute! I essentially used your request as the background to this scene. I hope you enjoy! Warnings: small fight scene, mostly fluff WC: 1081

The Light to his Dark || l.l

You were everything he was not, perhaps that was why you were perfect for him. When you met Loki, something just clicked. You never feared him, despite the vicious stories that were spread among the Asgardian gossip circles, you found his presence calming and his mannerisms sweet.

“Why would he invite the avengers here?” Loki growled as he paced the gardens his mother used to tend.

“Maybe it is to show them that you were not the boy who made those mistakes but a man who is ready to take responsibility?” You offered as you carefully picked a ripe and glowing starfruit. “I would like to visit Midgard someday, it sounds like an awfully exciting place.”

“Awful is one way to put it.” He muttered as he dropped into one of the cane loungers and produced a book from his cloaks. “The only good thing they have is a decadent beverage called coffee.”

You skipped over to his spot, eager to hear his many tales, and nudged the book aside so you could take the space on his lap. “What is it?”

“The production of it is something of a mystery but it rejuvenates like nothing else I have tasted. I swear rest was far from my mind after imbibing the black solution.”

“That sounds like something that would be useful on our wedding night.” You teased as you trailed a hand down his leather clad chest.

“I hope you are not implying what I think you are implying, my love.” He quirked an eyebrow daringly. “You are my very own shot of coffee, the moment I taste you on my lips, sleep is far from my mind.”

He shifted his long legs so that you fell closer to him and took the opportunity to claim your lips as they parted with your surprised gasp. You could feel his triumphant smirk without even having to open your eyes but his kiss was evaporating all thoughts of reprimanding him for giving you a fright. You had come to know and love all of his traits and knew the mischievous streak was embedded in his nature and was just like breathing to him, you could hardly ask him not to.

“We need to go, I still need to prune Frigga’s roses.” You sighed as you pulled out of his embrace rising from the chair with him in tow.

Your stomach fluttered as you caught the glint in his green eyes and looked towards the rose gardens across the palace courtyard. “Race you.”

To anyone who saw you at a glance they would see the royal socialite, a goddess in her own right, dainty and precious as your movements flowed like water. You came from the lineage of spring personified and where you went life blossomed, flowers bloomed and fruit sweetened. But that was not all you were, you were trained by Frigga herself to protect the palace and the Asgardians who resided within it.

You hadn’t noticed that the Avengers had arrived with King Thor, stepping out of the grand palace and into the courtyard that was surrounded by the gardens and orchards. They were watching with curious eyes as you rose from the cane chaise and pulled Loki to his feet, tucking a wayward lock of dark hair behind his ears and a smile gracing your face. His lips trailed along your jaw as he locked eyes on the group watching and whispered something in your ear.

You spun away from him with excitement, the layers of your dress billowing out as you raced to exit the orchard first. It was only the feel of air shifting that had you ducking in time to see Loki’s blade bury itself in a tree trunk. Your laugh filled the air as you swiped it out of the tree, pressing a palm over the cut and healing it before throwing the dagger back.

“Playing dirty already, my love?” You teased as you turned and froze.

The Avengers had seen Loki attacking a maiden and taken no time in surrounding him with their primitive weapons. The grass seemed to swell beneath your feet, flowers sprouting as you pushed your way between them to place yourself firmly in the way.

“Thor!” You hissed as he stood alone, chuckling to himself. “Please kindly tell your guests to put their weapons away before I am forced to draw my own.”

“Um, excuse me, but didn’t he just try to kill you?” A man with a red iron suit said as he tipped his mask back. “You really want to protect him?”

“Please, if you think I could kill her then you are even more of a fool than I thought, Stark.” Loki scoffed and stepped closer behind you to rest his hands on your hips.

Thor grinned as he stepped over to the group. “My friends, let me introduce you to Lady y/n, Loki’s betrothed.”

You could almost feel the pride radiating off Loki as his thumbs drew small circles on your hips, leaving you to go through the introductions while they tried to ignore his presence. You could already feel them softening to you, the sense of calm that came from sitting next to a softly bubbling stream surrounded by open air and fragrant flowers in the breeze. Your light nature was as strong as Loki’s dark, balancing each other.

“Loki has changed, you’ll see.” Thor promised.

“Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill everyone, where are you at these days?” A seemingly nervous man asked as his hand wrung together.

“It varies from moment to moment.” You turned enough to slap Loki’s stomach and he huffed with a roll of his eyes before clearing his throat. “That was a joke. I no longer have the grandeur plans of decimating your cities and wielding my power over your rudimentary species.”

“I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t get out much, as you can tell.” You laughed to ease the tension. “I hope to see you at the ball this evening. Excuse us.”

You half dragged Loki away as he waved back at the others, his smile never wavering until you were back into your apartment in the palace.

“Well that was certainly entertaining.” He chuckled as he dropped onto the canopy bed.

“Loki.” You sighed, climbing in beside him. “Please play nice tonight, for me? This is our celebration.”

He answered with a kiss as he pulled you closer in his arms. “Anything for you.”

Born In Flames || Chapter Seven, Part One

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Being the daughter of a mafia boss was hard enough growing up. You got out and made a new life for yourself as a bartender only to be sucked in when your old man made a bad deal and he thinks you need protection. Enter Bucky Barnes, your new bodyguard and roommate.

Warnings: Minor character deaths, non-con (no explicit details, just mentions), blood, torment, slight disassociation, kidnapping

Word Count: Both chapters together are a bit over 5K

Authors Note: So this chapter got dark, and long. So it’s split up into two parts. I’m putting the same warnings on both parts as well, though the second part is slightly less dark but still heavy.

Born In Flames Masterlist

Part Two

Reblog & leave some feedback!

You were cold. Freezing, actually.

Stripped down to the bare minimum clothing, every week being used to send photos.

Pierce hadn’t stepped foot inside the cabin since then. Men were stationed all around it, though only two would stay inside with you.

To say all pride went out of the window was an understatement. You didn’t get to use the bathroom with the door closed. Sleeping in a bed? Not allowed. You were only given an oversized shirt to sit around in.

They didn’t care about you. They cared about the check and making their boss proud.

And every week, Bucky and Michael grew more and more frustrated with the lack of findings. Michael kept reminding Bucky that he needed to calm down due to his surgery. He was still healing but he was going nuts without you. The only solace he found was every Saturday when a photo of you would be sent. It was marked with the date, a piece of paper that you held. Each week, there were new bruises and cuts on your skin. Each week, Bucky found a new reason to rage. He wanted to make them all feel the pain they were putting you in.

On the business side of things, Pierce was using you as leverage to get a hold of all of Michael’s dealings. The trading, the drugs, the guns, all of it. Michael tried to fight back but he learned early on that if he did, you received the brunt of it. He was sent videos of you being beaten, called names, tears streaming down your face.

Bucky broke the door when he saw it. His fist went through to the other side.

He had been staying at your place since then, even talking to Miss Liz every morning. He gave her some lie about how you were off visiting family and you weren’t sure how long you’d be gone. She accepted it, though she was probably too stoned to even think farther on it since you told her once that you don’t speak to your family anymore.

Weeks turned to months, the snow hitting hard. Each morning Bucky woke to see your paintings that sat on the shelf, his phone still not being sent any good messages. They tried to track your phone but it was off, probably broken and left on the side of some highway. They tried to track the photos but nothing seemed to come up and Pierce’s men were smart about where they drove. They knew when they were followed.

Michael started not to trust any of his men except Bucky. He thought Jasper was just a single rat but now that Glen had become one, he didn’t know who he could talk to.

So he talked to Bucky. The two of them tried to figure everything out. Hiring detectives was not an option, especially in the mafia business.

Currently you sat on the end of the couch, curled up around yourself. The men had already done unspeakable things to you. Things you never thought you would be worried about. Both men in the house had forced themselves on you time and time again. You taught yourself how to not be in that moment. To lose yourself in your head and not think about the man between your legs.

You thought about Bucky. When you slept, when you were awake, you thought of him. The few hours he held you while you slept. The way he held your face after the first shooting and how he took care of your ear. The way he allowed you to cry against him after your nightmares. He never once got angry with you. He dealt with your moods and the stupid guard dog name you gave him. You wished you could take it back, to tell him he was more than a guard dog just once more. He was kind and gentle, even allowing you to touch the arm he hated so much.

It was a Saturday, and you knew it. Stanley, the other man who was at the house with you and Glen/Matthew, got up from his chair and pulled out a switchblade from his pocket.

“New orders. I guess Michael isn’t listening very well,” he smirked, taking a seat next to you. Glen pulled up a wooden chair and sat in front of you, phone out and ready to record.

You were ready for the punches, the spitting, the raping. But when the knife slid against your skin, your eyes widened. “D-don’t,” you whispered, your voice broken. Your left eye was black and there was another dark bruise along your lip where it had been previously busted open.

Stanley chuckled darkly and pushed the metal into your skin, causing you to yelp in pain. You tried to pull away but Stanley’s free hand reached up and gripped your throat. “Stay still,” he spoke.

You squeezed your eyes shut as blood started to drip down the side of your thigh. Words started to appear, letter after letter, as you whispered in pain.

New Years.

Michael had until New Years to sign over everything or else you would be killed.

What Michael didn’t know was that they planned on killing you regardless. Everything that happened between Alexander and your mother was put onto you. A woman who was only a baby when she left him. A woman who didn’t want to be a part of the mafia at all.

Glen/Matthew zoomed in on the blood before your face, then shut the video off. Stanley gave your already wounded cheek a slap before getting up. “Go clean yourself up.”

Slowly you stood up, holding your breath as your thigh stung. The carving wasn’t super, super deep, but it didn’t stop bleeding for a few minutes. Making your way into the bathroom, you stepped inside of the bathtub and sat on the edge. Running the water, you hissed as it touched the open wounds. Tears fell as you tried to contain yourself.

All you wanted was to be home, curled up in bed with your bad television shows and unhealthy snacks. You wanted Bucky to be there and laugh as you made some silly joke. God, you missed that laugh. He didn’t laugh enough in the time you two had and you knew now he wouldn’t even smile. You didn’t have to be psychic for that.

Once it was as clean as it was going to get, you grabbed a cloth from the linen closet and held it against your thigh. You couldn’t find any gauze or bandages, so an old washcloth would have to do the trick. You just hoped you wouldn’t get an infection. Who knew where that knife had been before.

You sat back down on the couch and stared at the floor, disassociating once more. You often found yourself doing it to calm your mind. Crying gave you a headache and if you could get lost in some world in your mind where you were happy, then that’s how it had to be.

Back in Brooklyn, Bucky and Michael were sitting in his office when the video message came through. Michael opened up the email on his laptop and Bucky leaned down beside him.

The moment they saw you, how you screamed in pain, Bucky was ready to tear the office apart in rage. The metal plates on his arm whirred as he tried to compose himself. They were used to seeing your face beaten and bruised, but they hadn’t carved into you like that. A message was being sent through your skin.

Underneath the video was a little explanation about Michael handing everything over before New Years.

This was the last straw.

Bucky stormed out despite Michael calling out to him.

It was an unspoken rule not to go to the mafia bosses house. Every mafia boss adhered to it.

But Bucky wasn’t the mafia boss.

And he was about to use all of his training to get you back.

It took a few days to plan out, and by now you had been stuck in that cabin for six long months. He could tell by the photos and videos that they weren’t feeding you properly. You were nearly skin and bones. He devised a plan and decided to carry it out on his own. Even if he was killed, he just couldn’t sit around and do nothing while you suffered.

At about one am, Bucky found himself creeping around the outside of Pierce’s home. He had disabled all of the cameras so it didn’t alert anyone of movement before slipping inside. Did Pierce really not have any guards around? How stupid was he? Bucky lurked in the shadows of the home, only seeing one guard pass through a hall. Using a gun with a silencer, he shot the man and grabbed him before he could make a thud. Shoving him into a closet, Bucky then kept going through before finding Alexander's bedroom. Pushing the door open, he whipped out his gun and pointed it right at the man.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked, stepping inside.

Pierce didn’t seem phased, setting his book down and pulling off his glasses. “Didn’t hear you come in. Smart, I suppose. But did you really think this would be the best course of action? One simple call and she could be dead before you even try to pull the trigger.”

Bucky aimed at the nightstand, shooting the phone that sat there before aiming it back at Alexander. Pierce sighed and stood, though Bucky didn’t move.

“It’s nice that you’ve come to save her but you’ll never actually find her. I’m not dumb enough to keep her here. And good luck trying to find her in any of my properties. It will take far too long,” Pierce chuckled.

Bucky stared at him, trying to figure out his game. Was he trying to kill time? Distract him? Quickly the gun pointed down and he shot Pierce’s arm.

Apparently Pierce didn’t actually think Bucky would shoot by the way he looked at the man.

“You’re nothing but a coward,” he said as he gripped the old man's neck. “You’re going to take me to her or I’ll make sure you don’t leave this room alive.”

Pierce tried to pull away but Bucky gripped tighter. Pressing the barrel of the gun to his head, Bucky glared.

“Okay…I’ll take you,” Pierce said, holding his hands up.

Bucky watched him for a moment, trying to see if Pierce was going to try anything, but he pushed him to the door and kept his gun pressed to the back of his head the entire time.

Pierce led them to the garage and got in one of his expensive cars. Bucky sat in the passenger seat, never wavering his aim as Pierce drove. Anytime the man spoke, Bucky would quickly tell him to shut it. He had nothing left to hear. All he wanted was to hear you and make sure you were alive.

Pierce only hoped that his men were stationed where they were supposed to be. Five on one wouldn’t be too hard for them to get a good shot at Bucky, right?

Right?

Tag list: @crownstealer @borikenlove @bitchassbucky @babyboibucky @buckybarneschokeme @buckys-blue-eyes @vanillanaps @bibbidibobbidibucky @spicynudlesoup @bemine-bucky @suchababie @kaaabiii @rebekahdawkins @sebsbrokentoe @marvel-3407 @acmbooksandfilm @stucky-my-ship @boofy1998 @valsworldofcreativity @yaszx @21st-century-daydreamer @doll1917 @luxeavenger @hallecarey1 @booktease21 @supernatural-love14 @bookstan0618 @pastamomma @broadwaybabe18

By the way I almost got caught by my mom 😭 I immediately ran to the toilet 😭😭 so you can say that I almost died form my love for you fics

Hello to my favorite writer!!!

I saw that you had time so how about some mafia bucky with like a badass reader and like people are more afraid of her than bucky

And maybe like instead of reader being in danger and bucky coming to protect you can make that bucky is in danger and the reader saves him 🙃

Love you !! 

Ok I love you so much right now, you are seriously fuelling my Mafia!Bucky addiction! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!

Lioness || Mafia!Bucky

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, blood, violence, murder, smut. (in that order too lmao) this badass reader got real violent in the middle there oops someone woke up and chose violence today WC: 3116

Two men stood arguing in the shadows, watching the man tied to the chair hang limp and unconscious. The Don turned to his Capo and grabbed the lapels of his shirt as he saw the ‘gift’ he had been brought. “What the fuck is this?”

“What you asked for?”

Throwing the smaller man aside, the boss strode out of the dark and slapped the man until he woke. Grabbing his hair, he tipped his head back and turned it to the capo so he could see the crystal blue eyes. “I asked you for the head of his mob, you brought me the Dona's bitch.”

“You fucked up.” Bucky laughed despite his split lip that reopened with his smile. “My girl’s going to take pleasure draining the life out of every single one of you cocksuckers.”

Bucky’s head rocked sideways at the backhand he received and the rival Don’s jewel encrusted rings sliced his cheek. A pained groan escaped his bloody lips but that was the only satisfaction he gave them at his suffering as his fingers pressed the crown of his watch, the movement hidden having by his hands tied behind his back. It was only a matter of time until you arrived.

“We need to move out.” The Don ordered his men. “Call everyone, tell them to get to the casa sicura.”

“It's one woman.” The Capo frowned as he watched his boss’s face pale. “What threat could she possibly be?”

“You obviously don’t know how a lion's pride works, do you? You look at a lion and think he is fierce but the truth is without his lioness he would starve. The lioness hunts, the lioness protects. He is merely there to fuck and please her.”

“Give me some good news.” You snapped as you shrugged your jacket from your shoulders and tossed it over the back of your office chair.

“The tracker in his watch has just come online but it's deep in Little Italy.” Steve, your 2nd in command, updated you as he typed on his laptop.

You dropped into your chair and mindlessly twirled your butterfly knife as you wondered what the Don was up to. He had never been brave enough to outright start a war with you, there had to be something else going on. It didn’t matter, there was nothing to ponder, Bucky had been taken and you would stop at nothing to get him back. Slipping the knife back into your pocket, you opened the cupboards that lined your office and saw the arsenal of weapons waiting for you.

“You’re not seriously just going to go in there are you?” Steve gawked as you pulled on a custom bulletproof vest that doubled as a holster that could fit four handguns plus magazines.

“You’re not seriously just going to let them kill your bestfriend and your boss are you?” You shot back without looking as you checked the magazines were full before shoving them into place and grabbing a rappelling rope.

“Of course not, but you’re indispensable unlike the rest of us.”

Steve joined you and began to arm himself while you monitored your husband's movements, the red blip making its way through Brooklyn. “They’re on the move. Time to go.”

“Woah, we should wait for reinforcements-”

You cut Steve off with a glare and he gulped his suggestion down before following you out of your office and down to the garage. You looked over the array of keys and chose the Rolls-Royce Cullinan since it was the fastest of the armour plated vehicles you had collected. You didn’t bother looking back to make sure Steve was still with you, he either kept up or got left behind, it made no difference to you.

“I can’t believe you have a fucking shield.” You rolled your eyes as he slipped into the passenger seat and dropped it at his feet.

“Better than getting shot.”

The roar of the engine as you hit the accelerator drowned out the degrading insult you muttered and you flew out into the traffic with little regard for anyone else on the street. Red lights, stop signs, angry horns. They all went unnoticed as you raced across the city, weaving in and out of cars so you could get to Bucky as fast as possible. You couldn’t imagine your Italian rivals being gentle on him and the thought of anyone hurting Bucky sent fire igniting in your veins.

Your knuckles gripped the wheel tighter and Steve watched as your jaw clenched. “He’s gonna be fine. I know he’s soft for you but that jerk is still a tough son of a bitch.”

“If they have hurt him, I swear to god the streets will run red with their blood.” You said as you took the break in traffic to look at Steve. “It will be fucking biblical.”

The car fell silent as Steve avoided looking your way. You knew he couldn’t understand your bloodlust, very few people could. It was a man's world and the men only seemed to understand strength through violence. To be a part of their world you had to be more violent, more deadly, so they would see you as an equal. It turned out you did more than just become an equal, your reputation became the whispers of nightmares and rivals began to fear you more than Bucky.

Bucky was the only one who accepted you and loved you for who you were. He never once tried to rein you in like the others or grew jealous of the power your name held, he thrived on it. It was why you would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant being hopelessly outnumbered in enemy territory. He would do the same for you.

“Park down that alley on the right and we will have to go the rest of the way on foot.” Steve said as Bucky dot stayed stationary inside the industrial building.

You parked in the shadows and shut the engine off, turning to Steve before he could climb out. “I need you to stay here.”

“No way, he’s my best friend!”

“And he’s my husband!” You hissed. “I need you to have the car ready for a quick get away. Don’t make me pull rank here, Rogers.”

He didn’t look happy but he didn’t argue which was the best you could hope for as you tossed him the key and opened the door. “Give me five minutes then move round the block to the front. Unless they have RPGs you should be safe with whatever they fire at you.”

“Should be?” He muttered. “That’s reassuring.”

Your lips tipped up into a smirk at his sarcasm and you stepped out of the, turning back and hitting him with your own. “Guess you could always hide under your shield.”

You quietly closed the door and disappeared up the rusted fire escape, making your way over the rooftops instead of the busier streets below. Spotting an armed guard up ahead, you hid behind a water tower and drew your knife from your pocket. You would have plenty of time to use your guns but for now you didn’t want to announce your arrival.

The steps of the guard grew closer and you heard him humming a tune as he approached, your men would never be so stupid as to do that because it made it too simple to pinpoint when they would be in reaching distance. Your hand flew out, swiping the blade across his throat before he could even react and you grabbed his shirt to pull him away from the view of anyone else, his quiet gurgles stifling the song he had sung.

You froze as you heard another man calling out, assuming he was looking for his deceased amico. You waited ready as before, back pressed to the water tower and knife waiting for its next victim. This time your target was alert for something amiss and his steps were quieter, the sounds eaten by the noise of the city below. You spotted his gun first, peeking around the corner and you blocked the turning body with your forearm before slicing his wrist, the gun clattering to the rooftop as his tendons were rendered useless.

His scream erupted faster than your hand could bury the blade in his throat and you knew your stealth positioning was ruined. Grabbing the rope from where it hung over your back, you tied it around the two men and hooked it into the special clip on your vest. There was no time to second guess your plan as you heard the echoing sound of more than one pair of boots on the metal stairwell of the fire escape. Running across the roof, you ducked as gunshots sounded and leapt over the edge.

The rope burnt your palms as it ran through your fists and you hoped the bodies above stayed where they were before you clenched your grip and came to a jarring stop, your arc stopping before gravity pulled you back towards the building. The stunned face of the Don standing in front of the wide glass pane was almost comical but there was no time to laugh before your feet crashed through. Shards of glass tore at your clothes but you rolled to a stop relatively unscathed and drew two guns as you rose to your feet.

“Kill her!” The Don screamed as he rose from where he had fallen and shuffled his way to the stairs. “Kill the fucking bitch!”

You couldn’t believe this man dared give his soldiers orders but didn’t stay to see them through, he was not worthy of being their leader. Thankfully there weren't many of the soldiers in the room with you, most of his men must have been sent up to the roof and hadn’t made their way back down yet. Three well aimed shots dealt with them but one had managed to hit you before they died leaving your breath winded from where the bullet struck you in the vest.

Chasing after the Don you took the stairs two at a time, putting down everyone that got in your way, and you looked at your watch - 4 minutes and 38 seconds had passed. Finally, you reached the ground floor of the old warehouse and found the Don standing near the exit. Roofing iron lined the walls of the large commercial space and in the centre was your husband, slumped in a chair with slow streams of blood running down his handsome face. Your hand stilled as you looked at the weapon aimed at his head and the smirk on the Don’s face.

“Not so brave now are you, leonessa.” He spat. “Let me go, call this blood feud off and you can have him.”

You could hear the men from the rooftop coming down the last flight of stairs and knew you would be trapped on both sides any moment, you were running out of options and Bucky was starting to stir awake. If you could just see his eyes one more time before you died you would be happy. Suddenly the throaty rev of an engine pulled your attention away from the soldiers about to descend on you and towards the wall that was crumpling under the front of your Rolls-Royce, right beside the Don.

You dropped to your knees as you saw Steve’s window had the barrel of an AK-47 hanging out of it and he opened fire at the capos and soldiers, parking himself between them and Bucky. Your ears were ringing from loud gunshots but you couldn’t cover them as you needed your arms to crawl across the concrete and towards the Don who was pulling himself from the mess Steve’s entrance had made.

“Where do you think you are going?” You hissed as you grabbed his ankle and twisted the already broken limb, revelling in his scream. “This is what you wanted.”

“Please, it was a mistake.” He begged.

“You bet your ass it was a mistake.” You chuckled as your fingers curled around your knife. “One you are going to pay for with your life.”

You were bored of his tears and pleas, your ears already hurting and a headache forming. He was lucky, any other time you might have taken him with you and elongated his torture to appease the anxiety and stress he put you through but you just wanted to get Bucky out of there. You didn’t even take the time to watch his blood pool across the concrete or the colour drain from his face, you were already on your feet and wiping the blood off your knife before pocketing it and limping around your car to Bucky.

“There’s my girl.” Bucky sighed with a smile that cracked the blood that had dried on his cheeks. “Knew you would come for me.”

“Always.” You kissed his cheek gently as you reached behind him and sliced through the ropes that bound him, checking over the burn marks they left behind before helping him from the chair. Steve was already opening the door for you as you supported Bucky and got him settled on the backseat, turning your attention to your 2IC. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“I had to improvise.” He shrugged. “You were right about the armour though.”

“I’m right about most things. Now, get us home and have Dr Banner meet us there.”

You joined Bucky in the back seat and he took your hand as soon as you were in his reach, the familiar calluses settling the adrenaline that had been flooding your system since you heard he had been ambushed. Now that you weren’t high on hormones you were starting to feel the aches and pains of the many small injuries that littered your body.

“You’re bleeding.” Bucky said softly as he pulled the collar of your shirt away to see one of the cuts from breaking through the window.

“So are you.” You reminded as you leant into his touch.

“They barely touched me, doll.” He chuckled. “They were too scared of you to do any real damage.”

His fingers opened the buckles on your vest and pulled the thick layer away, not missing the wince as you moved so he could pull it off completely. Lifting your shirt up he saw the bruise that was already blooming across your ribcage and shook his head, softly placing your shirt back down before Steve looked back in the rearview. He felt terrible that you got hurt for him but knew that it went both ways and if the roles were reversed he would have done the exact same thing, just maybe not with the finesse you had.

“What am I going to do with you, babygirl?” He asked quietly as he kissed his way along your jawline.

“I can think of a few things.” You sighed as his shadow of a beard tickled your skin and your need for him spread faster than the goosebumps over your body.

Your fingers reached out for the control panel on the centre console and the blacked out glass began to rise, creating a barrier between Steve in the front and the back with you and Bucky. You could feel Bucky's smirk against your throat as his hand rose up your thighs in time with the window. Some jazz music began to play and you rolled your eyes at the poor taste both Steve and Bucky shared but you were grateful to have the sound overpower your moans as Bucky’s hands massaged your thighs.

“You get me so fucking hard when you I see you play with that knife.” Bucky teased you with his words and his fingers that were slowly opening your pants. “Seeing the fire in your eyes.”

“Yeah, like this baby?” You pulled the blade from your pocket, catching it with a twirl before running it down his shirt on the blunt side. “Should I just cut your clothes off so there’s nothing stopping me from having you this instant?”

His chest shuddered as a moan expelled on his breath and you watched his tented pants twitch as he enjoyed your teasing. Taking his belt you slipped the knife under the leather and sliced through it before dropping it to the car floor and pulling his pants down his legs. There was no patience left in you, you had to feel him. It was almost more reassuring than just seeing him alive, you wanted to feel his body under yours, his thick cock filling your pussy.

You kicked your own pants off and his hands guided you over his lap, his fingers teasing your entrance and feeling your folds already slick with arousal. He seemed to have as much patience as you did as he pulled you down to spear you with his blunt head, your heads tipping forward as you moaned together. You were careful of the cuts on his face, lacing your fingers in his hair instead and you gently kissed the corner of his lip that was split.

“You take more security now on.” You ordered as you rolled your hips over him.

“Mhmm, anything you want.” He agreed, knowing that you would stop if he tried to argue.

“I’m serious, Bucky. I can’t live in a world without you in it.”

His hands cupped your cheeks and he leant back so he could look you in the eyes, his blue irises blown with lust but still clear as the summer sky. “You won’t have to. Wherever we go, it's together. Hear me?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to feel every inch of him, needing to have as much of his touch as you could possibly get in the confined space. If your kiss hurt he didn’t show it but you could taste the metallic tang of blood on his lips as your tongue danced with his.

“I love you.”

You panted as your head tipped back, the assault of his tongue on your collarbone sending you head spinning before his thumb slipped between your thighs and added to the ecstasy. Everything felt warm, like the comfort of coming home to a roaring fire on a cold winter’s night and you felt the warmth of his breath on your skin as he replied, tipping you over the edge and into bliss.

“I love you too, doll.”

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@dilemmaontwolegs This! Is so funny to me 😭😭