Baking Lessons (Marc Spector X F!Reader) 18+

Two Minds, One Body || Mafia!Bucky [pt3]

Mafia!Bucky x fem!reader

Chapter Summary: You pay for your attitude in the best way possible Warnings: 18+ only, smut, edging/orgasm denial, cream pie, cum-play, mutual masturbation, squint and you might see voyerism, fluff, guns WC: 2427

Main Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Your heels clicked loudly as you stormed through the house looking for Bucky, or in this case, Winter. You knew he was here somewhere because his driver was still having a smoke outside but there were too many rooms to check each of them. Instead, you planted yourself beside the front door and waited for him to rear his head.

“Something wrong, love?” Bucky asked as he caught the vision of you waiting, hand on hip and fire in your eyes.

“What the fuck is this?” You growled as you pulled the handgun that had suddenly appeared in your handbag overnight.

“I believe it’s a gun.” He smirked and continued to push his cufflinks into his business shirt.

“Ha ha, I forgot what a comedian you were.” You rolled your eyes. “What is it doing in my bag, Bucky?”

He stepped closer and ran his hands softly down your arms but you shook him off and held your stance firm, he wasn’t going to distract you with his smouldering charm today. With a sigh he pulled away, looking to Nico for help as he entered to foyer only to quickly back track.

“Rat bastard.” Bucky mumbled under his breath before turning his attention back to you, his eyes bleeding almost to black. “I wanted to make sure you are protected in case I’m not around, kukolka.”

“Win…” You sighed as you dropped your hand from your hip. “I don’t even know how to use this, I’m more likely to accidentally shoot myself.”

“I’ll teach you.” He said, taking the gun from your fingertips and shoving it down the back of his waistband and pulling his suit jacket on to hide it. “After what you pulled off last month, we are the richest syndicate on the East Coast. That puts a target on our backs.”

You couldn’t help but beam under his pride, your NFT plan had worked and Bucky was laundering millions every week, but you hadn’t spent too long thinking about the dangers it put you in. You had noticed the extra guards on the property and that when you went out you had almost as much of an entourage as Bucky did, now it made sense.

“Ok, but I’ll need a permit.” You said begrudgingly. “I’m not going to jail because of something stupid like that. It would just be embarrassing.”

“She launders millions and orders around the toughest mob boss in the state of New York, but was caught without a firearms permit.” Bucky laughed, stepping into his brilliantly shined shoes. “That would be pretty embarrassing, doll.”

“Who said you were the toughest mob boss?”

“Oooh, my queen is fierce this morning.” He smirked as he grabbed your jaw and pulled you forward to meet his lips. “I’ll have to fuck that attitude out of you when I get home.”

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His chest was pressed to your back, hands over yours and holding you pinned in place. You could barely breathe as his thigh nudged your legs wider and his lips brushed the side of your neck.

“Focus, kukolka.” Winter warned you as your ass naturally pressed back into him with a promise of good spanking if you didn’t heed his words. “Pull the trigger.”

You took a deep breath through your mouth so you didn’t get distracted by the Armani cologne he wore and tried to focus on the target that had been nailed to the trees at the back of the property. This was not what you thought you would be doing when Bucky returned home, you hadn’t even noticed Nico had disappeared until he returned with a hammer and a swollen thumb.

“Shouldn’t I have ear muffs or something?” You asked in another attempt at delaying the inevitable. “You always see them on tv.”

“If someone attacks I doubt you will have a pair of them on you.” Winter pointed out. “You need to know what you are in for, like the recoil.”

“The what?!” Your hands dropped but Winter caught them and aimed them back at the target. “I don’t think I can do this…”

“I’ve got you.” He stilled your trembling hand and let one of his fall to your hip. “I remember the first time I pulled the trigger.”

“I’m pretty sure you were born with a gun in one hand and a flask of whiskey in the other.”

“Close but not quite.” He chuckled and let his other hand fall to your hip too. “It’s not as scary as it seems. Pull the trigger.”

You turned your face away and screwed your eyes shut as your index finger curled over the trigger. If the deafening bang wasn’t enough to scare the living daylights out of you, the snap of the recoil did. Winter’s hands were quick as lightning as they caught yours and steadied the hold before you could drop the weapon or accidentally discharge it.

“Good girl.” He grinned and pressed his lips to your cheek.

“Did I hit it?” You blinked rapidly, still stunned by the sound and force of your shot.

Winter’s laugh vibrated from his chest as he shook his head. “Not even close, but you pulled the trigger. That’s the hardest part.”

You had to admit now that you had done it once and knew what to expect, the idea did seem easier, you would certainly hold it a bit tighter now that you felt how much it recoiled in your grip and you began to raise the weapon again. This time you aimed to keep your eyes open so you could actually see the target.

“I think I should get a prize if I hit the target.”

Winter’s hand snaked down your body, tugging up the hem of your dress so he could brush aside your panties. “Sounds fair to me.”

Your head tipped back onto his shoulder as what his fingers did was not fair at all. You found it impossible to focus on aiming as they dipped between your folds and teased your clit, soft moans filling the quiet afternoon air. “Win, fuck, thats, not, fair.”

Your hips were rolling as they sought more friction, more depth than his thick fingers could offer. “Take the shot, kukolka. Claim your prize.”

His fingers disappeared and you whimpered at the loss before he raised his glistening digits to his lips, licking them clean as your panties dampened even more. You knew the game he was playing and you wanted so desperately to win. Focus, focus, focus. You remembered his instructions and how to line up the sights on the slide, looking down the barrel and at the target beyond. Deep breath in, sight the target, slowly exhale, pull the trigger. The gun still bounced back in your grip but nothing like the first shot and you saw the bark behind the target splinter as your bullet lodged deep into the trunk.

“Ouch, bad luck, doll.” Bucky sucked the air between his teeth as he took the gun and hit the magazine release as well as the round in the chamber, tucking them away behind his back.

“Woah, uh-uh, I hit the target.” You said as you stopped him from heading back towards the house. “You didn’t stipulate it had to be a head shot.”

You grabbed his hand and he let you tow him to the tree trunk and pointed out the tiny tear in the edge of the paper where your bullet had entered the trunk, nowhere near close to the outline of a head.

“See, target hit.”

Bucky was trying not to laugh as he touched the spot, his finger widening the hole in an innocent way that left you breathless nonetheless. “Someone is just desperate for a prize.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Your lip was caught between your teeth as you stepped up onto a root that stretched out beneath the tree and you stood eye to eye with him.

“You wanna cum so badly, don’t you baby?” He smirked as he ran his thumb over your lip, pulling it from your bite. You couldn’t help but flick your tongue out, tasting the pad of his thumb before sucking it as his pupils blew wide and his breathing deepened. “Fuck. Turn around.”

You smiled triumphantly as he spun you against the tree, your hands splayed against the trunk as his hands bunched your dress up. The thin material of your panties were torn apart and left to fall to the leaves before you heard his zip. You were already whimpering for him as he pulled your hips back and pushed your face forward, snapping his hips so he could fill you in one go. Your cry was lost as his hand clamped over your mouth and you were reminded that there were guards roaming the property.

“You’re mine, doll, no one else gets to see you like this.” He promised between sweet kisses and sharp bites to your neck. “So be a good girl and don’t make a sound.”

His hand fell from your mouth and you bit your lip to keep them shut as he circled your clit instead. It took all of your concentration to stay quiet as your legs began to tremble with every long stroke of his cock against your walls.

“Don’t cum just yet, babygirl.” He warned as his rhythm failed.”Remember my promise this morning.”

Your head was clouded by your impending orgasm when suddenly his cock twitched as his deep groan filled your ears as he spilled himself inside and pulled his hand away from where you needed it most.

“Gonna fuck the attitude out of you first. Then you’ll get your prize.” He smirked, pulling out after his release ended. “Close your legs, doll, I don’t want any of that leaking out between here and our bed.”

He tucked his cock back in his pants and zipped it up before whistling happily along the path, stopping a moment to check you were following him. Your knees were pressed together tightly as you tried to walk without letting his cum drip down your legs but gravity was a losing battle and you decided speed would be better over strategy, power walking past your grinning beau. You dared not give him the usual lippy attitude as you passed him  in case he withheld anymore orgasms, but you knew when you finally got your prize it would be monumental.

Your clothes were discarded in a messy heap as you entered your room and waited on the bed for Bucky. Your legs were crossed and your hips slightly raised, doing exactly as you were told, when he walked in the room a short while after. His shirt had been unbuttoned and hung loose around his body, the light illuminating every defining line that cut his abdominal muscle into the six pack you wanted to ride.

“Open.”

Your legs spread wide as he stopped at the foot of the bed, the feel of his liquid silk  slipping through your folds and running over you already had you trembling and his hands dropped his trousers so he could stroke his already hard again cock. The possessive burn of his eyes set your skin on fire and your fingers inched over your hip, begging permission to touch yourself.

“Go on, love.” He nodded as he gripped himself tighter. “Take yourself to the edge, but I’ll be the one who makes you cum.”

You sighed happily as you applied the pressure you needed to your clit, dipping your fingers down to gather his cum to use it to soothe the ache on your swollen bundle of nerves. Your back arched as your fingers easily glided over the nub and your walls fluttered, more of his cum dripping from your needy cunt and earning a deep moan from Bucky as he appreciated the sight. Your eyes locked together and you felt the tightening in your core curl your toes, pushing yourself to the brink before you threw your hands away from your body and tried to fight the urge to finish.

“You are perfect.” He vowed as he climbed on the bed, leaving kisses up your thighs before his tongue lashed slowly through your folds, gathering a mouthful of his cum and your arousal. His cock rested between you and every movement left his veiny shaft rubbing over your sensitive clit as he captured your lips, tongue sharing the taste of your bodies combined. “You can cum whenever you want now, doll.”

His hips pulled back so his cock could fall between your legs before he snapped them back into you, your body putting up no resistance as he filled you to your core. You could finally cry out his name, the thick walls of your room trapping the sounds of your ecstasy firmly within them. Your fingers clawed at his back as the edging left you blinded with passion and you bucked your hips up to meet his every thrust, his pelvic bone applying just the right touch for whitehot spots of light to dart across your vision.

Unintelligible words tumbled from your lips as your orgasm built and built and built until you thought you would just combust into a billion atoms. Your mind splintered and for a moment there was no feeling at all, it was like time stopped as your soul left your body and every muscle froze. Then you came crashing back down, your pussy pulsing uncontrollably as your legs wrapped around his back, liquid gushing around his cock as your body was overcome with fever.

“Holy shit.” Bucky moaned as he watched your orgasm rip through you, feeling your walls draw him in and hold him tighter than ever as his thighs were drenched by the torrent of liquid squirting over him. “Oh, fuck, so good.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer, not when your eyes rolled back into your head and he knew he had kept his promise. Collapsing onto your chest, he shuddered as he spilled himself inside you once again, both of your bodies covered in a light sweat from the sweet torture you had been put through. Rolling his eyes to look up at you from where he lay you could only move enough to place a kiss on his forehead, his eyes fluttering closed at the softness.

“Are you still going to give me attitude?” He asked with a small hint of a smile, really not minding it at all.

Your chest bumped his head with a laugh and you stroked your fingers through his hair. “Am I still breathing?”

Click here for part 4.

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Taglist || Taglist Join Form ||

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Fuck that’s a tough choice but I would love to see masquerade part 2 ooor ships in the night part 2 !!

Which should I start writing first?

Two Minds, One Body [pt4]

Ships in the Night [pt2]

Letters After Dark [pt2]

Killing Time [pt2]

Masquerade [pt2]

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First Lady {2} || Retribution MC AU

Biker!Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Summary: Your day takes a turn when you are kidnapped to blackmail Steve and the club into business. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, alcohol, pregnancy, reader injuries, kidnapping, canon-typical violence, guns, shooting. WC: 2678

Steve’s Masterlist || Retribution MC Masterlist || Part One || Part Two

The box of beers were freezing as they dug into your arms so you could carry them out of the fridge. You nearly dropped them with fright as you turned around after kicking the door closed to see Steve vaulting over the bartop. The box was gone in an instant and he gave you a disapproving look as he put them on the bench beside Cherry. 

“You know you shouldn’t be lifting anything in your condition.” Steve growled as he bent his knees to look you in the eyes. “No more lifting.”

Bucky frowned as he looked up from his phone. “I offered to do it but mama’s almost as stubborn as you.”

“I know.” Steve said with a heavy sigh, his huge hand coming to rest across the little bump jutting out from your belly. “I mean it, love, no more lifting.”

“Relax, big guy.” You smiled, placing your hand over his. “You keep stressing yourself out and you’ll be itching for a smoke, then I won’t be happy.”

The moment he felt his child kick against his hand he forgot everything and became enraptured with the miracle growing in your body. His smile split his face and the feeling of being complete lifted his spirits after spending hours in his office, once again trying to make ends meet and keep food on the table. 

“You’re gonna make me late.” You giggled as he pulled you into his arms so he could have just a few more moments with you before heading to the shop. 

“I already did that.” Steve teased low in your ear, laughing when you lightly slapped his butt. “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s not like everybody knows I knocked you up already.”

“You’re so romantic, it's a wonder you even got in my bed.” 

“I can tell you exactly how that happened.” 

“He’s bluffing.” Bucky said over the top of his phone that he was busy texting his girlfriend from. “He doesn’t even remember what he had for breakfast.”

“True.” Steve admitted as he turned to his VP. “Speaking of late, aren’t you meant to be out on a date?”

“I’m picking her up now, worry about your own love life.” He smirked before shrugging his kutte off and heading to the office to leave it for safekeeping. “Fucking feel naked without this. You know where we’ll be, give us a shout if you need me.”

“Go, enjoy your night.” You said with a wave. “They can look after themselves for a few hours.”

“Yeah. Right. And pigs fly.” Bucky snorted a laugh as he left, his Harley roaring to life before tearing out of the clubhouse parking lot.

“I’m going to head out too.” You said to Steve, pecking his lips quickly only to be pulled back so he could give you a proper kiss that left you wanting to stay. “I love you.”

“Love you too, mama. I’ll come by at midnight to help you close.”

It was almost closing time and you had been busy all evening with walk-in clients so you sent Hodge off since he had started before you. Locking the front door, you turned the music up as you began your clean down not realising someone had slipped in through the back. It was only as you polished the stainless steel bench that you saw a blurred reflection move behind you and you spun around, spraying the disinfectant in the stranger's face and kicked out your leg as hard as you could.

You didn’t stick around to see what happened to him but heard a crash and string of curse words as he toppled your equipment table. You rounded the corner to the staff only area and reached for your phone resting on your handbag, your fingers jamming the power button until it activated your emergency call to 911. 

“Shouldn't've done that sweetheart.” A man sighed as he stepped out of the shadows of the back door, a gun resting against his thigh. The stranger wore a sleek suit that screamed money and you slightly relaxed that it was too expensive for the FBI to wear, at least you weren’t getting arrested. “Happy?”

“Not exactly.” You muttered, seeming to amuse him as the man who you had kicked limped in from the studio.

“I’m fine.” Happy grunted as he grabbed your phone and smashed it on the ground. “The little bitch is gonna pay for that stunt though.”

You tried to dodge the hit but your baby bump left you off balance and the punch he sent your way slammed into your forehead instead of your nose. Stars blurred your vision as you swayed on your feet and you managed to stay upright until he grabbed you and dragged you outside to a waiting SUV.

The tyres squealed as Happy floored the gas and they hit the main road, merging with the Saturday night traffic that sprinkled the city streets. A familiar roar of a Road King passed you at an insane speed but with the tinted windows Steve wouldn’t have seen or heard you screaming from inside. 

“She’s giving me a headache now.” Tony complained as he scratched his cheek with the barrel of his gun. “Would you please shut up so I can think?”

“What do you need to think about?” You asked, wiping away some of your blood that trickled close to your eye. “How much you fucked up by taking the President of Retributions’ wife?”

“Just remember, I did ask nicely.” Tony said before he turned the gun and pistol-whipped you, the world quickly fading to black.

Steve paced the club like a wild animal, trapped as he waited impatiently for everyone to arrive. His eyes never left his phone, reassuring himself that the reason your location hadn’t moved was a good thing but fear knotted his stomach until he had to sit down or vomit. All he could see in his mind's eye was the mess that had been left in the studio, your phone smashed to pieces and the droplets of blood beside it. 

“Fuck!” He screamed as he threw the pen holder from his desk, the glass shattering against the wall and the pens clattering to the ground. 

The door behind him opened and he spun on his heels to face the intruder to his personal hellhole. 

“Woah.” Sam said gently as he raised his hands. “You gotta focus, man. You’ll get yourself killed if you go into this without your head.”

“I know.” Steve growled, anxiously rubbing his beard to the point it would probably start to wear away. “Give me a smoke.”

“No fucking way.” Sam stepped back. “Mama will kill me when we get her back.”

Looking at the phone once again, Steve sighed and pocketed the device before nodding to Sam. “Let’s ride.”

The gates rolled shut behind the entourage of bikers heading upstate to your location outside of Esopus, only a few members left behind to protect the club families in case there was another attempt at taking an old lady or their kids. The lights of the city soon faded away and all Steve could focus on was the glare of his headlight leading the way to you. 

Tony Stark was well known for being an arms dealer and he had been trying to get the MC to run his weapons along the East Coast but Steve knew doing that would put them even more on the FBI’s radar, something he wanted to avoid. It was more important than ever that he keep his nose clean and stick to the usual protection runs, ensuring he would be there for the arrival of his child and not behind bars. 

“Steve, you know who this property belongs to right?” Bucky asked from where he laid on the ground, one eye closed, the other looking down the scope of his rifle. 

“Unfortunately.” Steve sighed. “It’s not too late to back out, I can go in there on my own.”

“Fuck off,” his VP scoffed, “don’t insult me with that shit.”

Sam chuckled from where he was tucking magazines into his pockets and pulled back the bolt on his rifle. “We gonna do this or what?”

A small smile slipped onto Steve’s face despite the crushing fear that gripped his chest, he knew he could rely on his brothers to be by his side no matter how perilous the situation. With a nod he pulled the hood up from his coat to hide the blond of his hair and started to jog through the trees towards the Stark Compound, the rest of the club following close behind.

They reached the gate and, as their best marksman, Bucky took out the guard manning the security gate before Joaquin stepped in and made quick work of shutting down the outside cameras. 

“They are gonna notice we are here if they check the cameras, we better get moving.” Steve urged as he pushed down the rising adrenaline, now was not the time for his hands to start trembling and his heart to start racing. “On my count.”

Holding his hands up, Steve dropped a finger for each second that passed and the moment his fist was closed they broke ranks and fanned out across the yard. Bullets fired from a cargo bay door but they were quickly silenced by a well aimed shot from Sam and they continued their enclosing tactic around the building. 

You woke with a gasp and instinctively curled around your belly as gunshots rang out, trying your best to ignore the nausea rolling through your stomach and the way the room spun around you. 

“Get up.” Tony growled as he tugged you to your feet from the couch you had been laid on and pain lacerated your head. “It’s time for you to play your role perfectly, or I put a bullet into your baby first, then your brain.”

“There’s a shallow grave with your name on it.” You spat as he pulled you in front of his body and pressed the handgun to your head. 

“Your husband isn’t going to kill me.” Tony chuckled in your ear. “He needs me. Drop your weapons, Rogers!” Tony shouted out, nearly deafening you in the process, as he stepped out from the building. “I just want to talk.”

“This isn’t exactly picking up the phone is it!” Steve growled, his blood boiling as he saw the blood on your face. It was only the fact that the cargo dock doors opened and a small army strolled out with their weapons trained on the entire MC, outnumbering them 2:1.

“No, this is much more effective.” Tony laughed. “Now drop the weapons or your wife becomes a human casket.”

It took everything in you not to let the tears fall; you were tough, this was the life you signed up for and you told yourself you would not cry about it. Your body refused to listen the moment he moved the gun to your stomach and you trembled at the thought of losing the baby you had waited so long to have, silent tears turning the blood on your cheek pink. 

“Okay.” Steve rushed, dropping his rifle to the grass and looking along the line to his brothers, pleading with his eyes for them to follow suit.

“And your personal weapons too.” Tony huffed as their rifles clattered to the ground. 

Steve reached behind his back, drawing two handguns from the waist of his jeans and dropped them too, another dozen following from the others. 

“Good, now we can chat like civilised people.” Tony smiled, a breath of relief escaping your lips as he slipped his own weapon back into the shoulder holster, relying on his personal army to protect him. “Welcome to the future, gentlemen.”

With a shove, you stumbled forward and met Steve’s embrace, your hands tracing his face, neck and chest until you gripped his dog tags. The warm metal in your palm grounded you and you looked up into his shimmering eyes as he gently brushed away your tears before showing you with a kiss what he didn’t want to say in front of everyone - how afraid he was.

“You okay?” He asked as moved to feel the swell of your stomach. 

“We’re okay.” You reassured him, chuckling as your baby kicked. “Told you.”

“We don’t have all night.” Tony reminded everyone impatiently as he stood at the door to a large, glass lined meeting room. “Sooner we sort this out, the sooner you can get back to your rabbit burrow or wherever the hell you hole up in.”

“Wait out here where I can see you, okay?” Steve asked, raising your wedding ring to his lips and kissing the piece of jewellery that had led him to you. “I love you.”

You nodded and looked around at the armed men who had closed in even more. “Love you too.”

Bucky and Sam both paused as they walked past, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before they followed Steve inside. The rest of the men, in one way or another, all expressed their relief that you were mostly unharmed and your heart swelled that you were a part of such a loving family. 

“I have a regular shipment of arms coming through the Port of New York but a new  client has recently tripled their orders.” Tony said as he sat at the head of the table, a suave man looking outcast by the beefy bikers that sat around him. “I need you and your men to ensure my deliveries make it to the buyer without a hitch.”

“You have your own army, why us?” Steve asked what everybody was thinking. 

“Why risk my own men when I have you?” He shrugged. “You’ll be compensated, something I’m sure you are in desperate need of, so don’t act like I’m forcing you.”

“That’s exactly what you did.” Steve growled as he slammed his fists against the table. 

Tony laughed and played with the button on his suit jacket. “You got me. I’ll pay you a lot of money to deliver my weapons and, in return, I won’t kill you and every single one of the people you care about. Does that work?”

You wondered what they were discussing as you watched Steve sag with defeat, his eyes darting to every member around the room. You watched each man nod their head and assumed they were casting a vote as Steve turned back to Tony and held out his hand. That must have been a signal as you saw all the men behind you relax their weapons, aiming at the floor instead, and Steve made his way back to you.

“Let’s get you home.”

The walk through the trees was quiet, none of his brothers in the mood for joking and you suppressed the urge to ask what they had voted on. Your fingers laced with Steve’s and his thumb kept rubbing over yours, a nervous habit of his when he was deep in thought. Leaning into his side, you tried to soothe him by rubbing his back but his guns made it almost impossible before you gave up. 

“Babe,” Steve stopped you from climbing on behind him, his voice almost a whisper. “I need you up front, please.”

You nodded and climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs as you wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest. It had been a long time since you rode like this and that had been when a rival club had very nearly shot you out when they sprayed the clubhouse with bullets. He had been so afraid of losing you he had made you hold him the entire ride home, he had needed to be able to look down and see the face he loved above all else. 

“I’m here, Stevie, we’re both here.” You promised as the engine came to life and he stole a final kiss before kicking up the stand and taking you back where you belonged.

This is basically just p*rn

I LOVE IT

Two Minds, One Body || Mafia!Bucky [pt4]

Mafia!Bucky x fem!reader

Chapter Summary: It's Bucky/Winter's birthday 🥳 but there always has to be some drama... Warnings: 18+ only, kind of public sex (its a public place but no one is around), edging, more smut, possessive Winter, oral both, toys: vibrator, buttplug WC: 2.9k

Main Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

You were lucky Bucky was a patient man as he waited in the car for you. You still couldn’t decide what dress you wanted to wear and you held them both up against you in the mirrored dressing room. Trying one on again, you took a photo and sent it to Bucky since it would be his birthday you would be wearing it to. You saw the message turn to read and after a moment where no response came you sighed and reached for the zip.

Knock, knock. “Doll.”

You forgot the zip and unlocked the door, stepping back as Bucky quickly slipped in and locked it behind him. Your breathing hitched as you saw the lust in his eyes and he bit his lip as he looked over your body. “Do you like it?”

You gave him a spin and smirked when he caught you by the hips, pulling you against his body so you could feel just how much he liked it. “I’d like it even more on the floor.”

His hand trailed down your spine, taking the zip with it and he slipped the sleeves over your shoulder. The cool air of the boutique store would have left you shivering if it wasn’t for the fire Bucky was lighting across your skin. Your fingers had already opened the first buttons of his dress shirt before your brain clicked in and you froze.

“We can’t have sex here.” You whispered in his ear. “There’s people just outside.”

“You think I would let anyone else hear how beautiful you sound when you cum?” His dark chuckle washed over you and his smirk teased you as much as his fingers that were dipping into your panties. “I sent everyone away. You looked so sexy in that photo, just had to have you.”

You giggled at his neediness and he spun you around to lean your hands against the mirror. There was no wasting any time with Bucky today it seemed, he quickly pulled your panties down your legs and nudged them wider before he teased your slit with his blunt head. Your eyes connected through the mirror and your lips parted as he pushed past your entrance with a satisfied moan. He truly was insatiable, between him and Winter taking their turns with you it was a miracle you could still walk.

Your breath misted up the glass as Bucky gripped your hips and set a quick pace. If you had any thoughts you would have felt sorry for the person who would have to clean the fog of your breath and your fingerprints off the glass when you were done, but Bucky was erasing all your capacity to think as he fucked you senseless.

Bucky thumb and index finger teased your nipple and you cried out at the sudden pinch he gave you, your cunt tightening, before he soothed it once again as he chuckled in your ear. “Oh? You like that, babygirl.”

“God, yes…”

You could feel your orgasm building and so could Bucky, his hand running down your stomach to the juncture of your thighs. You looked down at the reflection and watched as he spread your lips and circled your clit, quickly bringing you to the edge of bliss before he pulled out. You whimpered at the loss of both the fullness and the orgasm you were within reach of.

“Bucky, please.” You begged as you watched him force his erection back into his pants and wink at you.

“Come on, doll, we have places to be.” He chuckled as he walked out of the dressing room. “Oh, and get both dresses, you’ll need a spare.”

You didn’t know what he meant by that but you did as he told. After getting dressed and resisting the urge to finish yourself off, you gathered up the dresses and found the staff returning to the shop floor. You didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic, not when you saw the way the cashier was eyeing Bucky up at the front window.

“I’ll have these.” You said as you pulled out your purse.

“No need.” She said as she pushed your card away. “Mr Barnes owns this store.”

You tucked the purse away and caught the sly smile one Bucky’s face as he walked back and carried the garment bags for you. “When you said you owned half of Brooklyn, I thought you were exaggerating, like men and the size of their penises.”

“I don’t have to exaggerate.” He laughed as he opened the door for you before going around to the other side. “On either account.”

You headed back to the townhouse instead of travelling back upstate, since Bucky’s birthday party was going to be at a local event space, and you watched with amusement as Bucky closed the door to the walk-in wardrobe behind you. “Come to tease me again?”

He had watched you squirm on your seat the whole drive home, every bump leaving you a little breathless. “Maybe. It’s my birthday so I can have my gift unwrapped as many times as I please.”

His fingers tipped your chin back so he could steal a kiss from your lips that were pouting at the idea of being edged again. Thankfully, you knew how to drive him as crazy as he did you. You dropped to your knees and pulled his cock free to see the thick beads of precum leaking from his angry red tip. You flicked your tongue over the little slit and hummed at his taste, each kitten lick jerked his body and you could see his patience wearing thin.

“It’s not nice when you don’t get to cum, isn’t it?” You asked innocently as you stroked him slowly, painfully so.

The glaze in his eyes was gone and his focus was on the teasing smile you held and he smirked as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “You want me to fuck you, is that it?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to make you cum all over my cock?”

“God, yes…please.”

His eyes seemed to sparkle as you turned to putty as his feet. “Ok, but then you have to wear the gift I got you tonight.”

You would sell your soul for him to just give you the release you needed. “Anything.”

He walked around you and pushed you onto all fours, his hands massaging your ass and teasing your dripping hole with his thumb. After tasting your nectar from his thumb he hummed and thrust his hips forward, filling you as you pushed yourself back to meet him. There was no way you were missing out on another orgasm and you reached between your legs and let your fingers glide over your bundle of nerves.

“Someone’s a bit greedy.” He teased with a spank as he felt your fingers against his shaft. “Go on, baby, wanna feel you cum.”

Your back arched as you chased your own release and your legs tried to close shut around Bucky until they began to tremble. Your moans filled the small room and the hands on your hips gripped you tighter so Bucky could ram himself as fast as possible, the loud slaps of your skin filling your ears.

“B-bucky, I’m, oh god…” Your words were lost as white hot flashes of light blinded you and your core clamped down around him, milking him as he released himself inside you.

“Holy fuck.” He panted as his hips continued to jerk and you felt the most full you ever had, his cum leaking out and down your legs as he watched it rolling down. “Look at that beautiful mess.”

═══════☆═══════

The party was in full swing and businessmen and women from all over the world had accepted the invitation to Bucky’s birthday. You knew the majority of the people around you were criminals of one kind or another but you couldn’t tell them apart from the straight-laced business owners who mingled among them. The politicians you could spot a mile away, their seedy nature sending you in the opposite direction, which is how you ended up near the pool table. Your glances kept returning to the table but there was no one else playing, just people using it as a drink holder.

“Such a longing stare, should I be jealous of someone?” Bucky asked quietly in your ear, just above the music, as his hands came to rest on your hips.

“You’ve set my standards too high now, there’s no one that could make you jealous.” You promised as you turned in his arms. “It’s been a long time since I played pool, do you play?”

“Not since I found a better way to spend my time.” He smirked before taking your hand and leading you over, the people grabbing their drinks as Bucky took two cues from the holder. “Ladies first.”

You took your pick of the cue and chalked it up before walking around to the head of the table and lining up the break. The cue warmed your fingers as you pushed and pulled, readying your shot before you dropped your head and bit your lip to stifle the moan. When the sensation passed you shot daggers at Bucky, his phone in hand and ready to set off another vibration in your core. When he said to wear the gift he bought you, you thought he meant the dress. You were sorely mistaken.

“Take the shot, doll.” He teased as he lowered the settings but left it running.

You took a deep breath and rushed the shot, balls exploding in all directions but a large sinking into the corner. He slipped his phone away to clap at the shot and more people turned to watch the game unfold and you watched with intrigue as his tongue peeked out in concentration and one eye slightly closed as he lined it up. He had played you once again, he was more than just an amateur and nearly sunk all his balls before missing one and returning back to the side.

You already anticipated what came next once he pulled his phone from his pocket and you felt as if the entire club was watching you teeter on the edge of an orgasm - and then it was gone. You sagged with relief and took your shot, sinking three before missing a shot. You retreated to a wall so you had something to lean on as your legs trembled and you felt your arousal running down your thighs.

A warm body pressed against you and for a split second you thought it strange that Bucky had missed his shot so soon but you found a stranger with a bitter cologne in your face. The man had obviously been drinking as it was strong on his breath that you tried to recoil from, your head turning away and locking eyes with Winter. The room seemed to hold their breath collectively as Winter stalked his way over, cue in hand.

Winter glared daggers as he splintered the cue on the man's back and tore him away from you. “No one touches my kukolka.”

His possessiveness was more electric than the vibrator and the start of a moan sneaked past your lips before you could stop it, the sound instantly catching Winter’s attention. His head snapped to you and he looked torn between wanting to destroy the man that touched you and wanting to touch you himself. Snapping his head to Nico, he shoved the man his way and Nico clearly understood the assignment as he began pulling the stranger towards the back exit where some of the guards' cars were waiting. You knew he would pay for his transgression later but for now, Winter had better things to do.

“You don’t want to finish the game?” You gasped as he pinned you to the wall and wiped the memory of the last two minutes with one heated gaze.

“I want to play with you.” He growled in your ear as his teeth grazed over your racing pulse. He nipped the skin and chuckled as you jumped, your body rubbing against his and feeling how hard he was for you.

You looked around and found the attention had returned to the band playing and whatever else the people were up to before the short disturbance. Grabbing Winter’s hand you made your way to the dark service alley and a restricted area before he pulled you to a stop and ran his hands over the soft material of your dress.

“I’m gonna leave my marks all over you, kukolka, so no one forgets who you belong to.” He promised as his lips kissed your collarbone before sucking on the delicate skin.

Your fingers buried themselves in his dark hair and you held him to your chest, the love bites leading their way down your plunging neckline until he reached the bust. His hands pulled up your dress as he dropped to his knees and you lost contact with his hair as he disappeared under your dress. You gasped and threw your hands back to the wall for balance as he pulled you leg over his shoulder and kissed your clit.

If anyone were to walk in they would see your dress puffed out, and a bit lumpy, and the peek of red bottomed mens dress shoes beneath the hem. They would also see your face painted with ecstasy, his marks against your neck, your jaw hung in suspense as his tongue lashed across your swollen pearl and his fingers gently tugged the tail of the purple silicone love egg Bucky had put in you. The vibrating increased and you gripped the material across your stomach as if you could stop your body jerking in response.

“Win, please, I need to cum.” You begged as the overstimulation left your body twitching and trembling.

You felt him chuckle against your clit and you shivered at the added vibration before he sucked it between his lips. You could feel the liquid running down your thighs, more escaping every time he moved the egg, and he hummed greedily as he pulled away and licked the rivulets clean. Suddenly the vibrations turned to what you could only hope was the maximum setting because you could not take anymore. You cried out and if it wasn’t for Winter holding you you would have collapsed as your orgasm crashed over you.

“Clench, kukolka.” Winter ordered and you couldn’t not clench if you tried, your pussy was holding tight to the egg that was still buzzing inside you.

Winter’s fingers grabbed the tail and he pulled it, fighting your body to keep it in your cunt but he won, the vibrator coming free, your juices flowing down your legs. You sagged with relief as the stimulation was gone but your head was still spinning as Winter emerged from your dress with a proud grin and a glistening chin.

“I can’t go back out in this.” You murmured as you felt the back of the dress damp where it clung to your legs.

Winter took your hand and wove deeper through the service alley to a private room and you found the second dress hanging in the garment bag. You took it from the coat hanger with a laugh, heading to the bathroom to clean up first. “You really did plan to ruin the dress.”

“I’ll ruin that one too, but it can wait till we get home.”

Your core was already throbbing at the thought and you had to shut the door before you took a seat on his lap and rode him into the couch he was waiting for you on. You had already kept him away from his party for too long, he should make a reappearance before people think he left. You stepped out of the bathroom with the dress held to your chest and he was already rising from the chair with his tongue licking his lips at the sight.

“Do me up?” You asked over your shoulder and shivered as his cool fingers zipped you up and kissed your neck softly. “Will you dance with me?”

Winter nodded but not before you caught his smirk. “First, bend over, you’re forgetting something.”

He opened his palm and your eyes widened at the metal plug that had a large diamond set in the base. “Wiiiiinnn...”

“It’s this or the egg, your choice.” His grin only widened when you bent over and held the back of the chair, the egg was just too much in your current state and you weren’t going to deny his request, you wanted it.

The cold metal pressed to your dripping folds first, making it slick before he gently pressed it to your ass. His free hand massaged your lower back as it met resistance and he pushed just a little bit more. “Relax.”

You exhaled deeply and tried not to tense as you felt yourself spreading for it, stretching enough to steal your breath before the pressure was gone and you felt full. “Good girl. Keep it there for me for the rest of the night.”

You straightened up and you wished you chose the egg as a new wave of pleasure filled you and your eyes widened at how good every step felt. His eyes darkened as he watched your chest rise and fall with your controlled breaths and he knew you were going to be dripping down your legs soon. “Time for that dance, kukolka.”

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I am so weak for bucky that I would have stayed either way

And this was fucking hot

Hello lovely person I just got my period so I’m depressed !

Let’s make me even more depressed with this prompt please

“ you know, if you’re trying to make me feel guilty, you’ve succeeded.” With my lovely babe bucky please and also can the reader be the one to say it (I don’t know if this sentence made sense but let’s ignore it )

Uhhh Mother Nature strikes again! May you be blessed with heat packs, sleep and snacks <3

|| main masterlist || bucky masterlist ||

Love 'em and leave 'em || Bucky

Warnings: 18+ only, sparring/fights, rough blowjob, roughish sex, slight degradation, unprotected sex WC: 1278

First rule: don’t get attached Second rule: reread first rule Third rule: leave when you get attached

Those were the rules you lived by and the rules you would die by, after all, you can’t get your heart broken if you never let anyone into it.

“Look at that, Barnes.” You smirked as he was thrown to the ground once again by Steve, the sweat from his face leaving a streak of shine across the vinyl mat flooring. “I didn’t realise you were the janitor.”

“Do you really have to antagonise him?” Steve huffed as he caught his friend around the waist and stopped him from making his way over to you. “You two need to sort this rivalry out.”

“There is no rivalry, he’s not even in the same league as me.” Your flippant attitude pissed the soldier off even more but he was so easy to wind up it was impossible to resist.

“Let go of me.” Bucky growled as he tore himself from Steve’s arms and left the gym, leaving you with the deeply disappointed Captain.

“Oh, don’t give me that patronising look.” You rolled your eyes and bumped his shoulder. “You’re the one who used his face for a mop.”

“Please, y/n, just go and apologise.”

“Fine, but if you hear us going at it, don’t you dare try to intervene.” You warned. “He could do with a little smackdown. You never told me he would have as big an attitude as me.”

“No one comes close to you.” Steve laughed and began to pick up the training mats. “Just don’t destroy the whole floor this time.”

Your lips curled up in a dark smile as you remembered the last round with Barnes. “No promises, Cap.”

The air was crushed from your chest the second you entered Bucky’s room, your back being shoved roughly against the wall. “What took you so long?” He growled as his mouth attacked your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

“Sowing seeds in the old Captain's head.” You answered with a moan as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your leggings and over your mound. “Can’t have him finding out the truth can we.”

Your hands were tearing his shirt over his head and his lips lost contact with yours for a second before you crashed back together, gentleness wasn’t in your nature or his. His vibranium hand took your wrists and pinned them above your head, your strength nothing compared to the advanced weapon he had been armed with, literally.

“Such a fucking drama queen.” He growled as his warm fingers teased your wet slit, two thick digits slipping inside.

“You seem to enjoy the act well enough.” You teased as you rolled your hips into his touch and moaned as he reached the sweet spot.

“Enough talking, on your knees.”

He let go of your wrists and you dropped to your knees, pulling his pants down as you went and freeing his thick cock from his boxers. Your mouth was watering as you gripped his shaft tightly and rolled your wrist, licking the bead of cum that was already pooling at the slit. His hands planted against the wall and his hips pushed forward, pushing his cock past your lips and you opened your mouth wider to take him.

You hummed at his musky taste filling your mouth and relaxed your throat before his large hand covered your head and held you still so he could fuck your face. Your throat convulsed at the assault and your pussy throbbed with every thrust he dealt you, your spit running down your chin.

“Fuck, can’t mouth off now can you.” He grunted as your nails dug into the tense muscles of his thighs.

Your hand slid up until it cupped his balls, a small squeeze earning a deep moan but also warning him that you were still in control despite what he thought. All too soon he was pushing deeper than you could breathe, your eyes watering, and you pushed him back to gasp fresh air in your lungs. There wasn’t any time to recover before he hooked his hand under your arms and pulled you to your feet, needing to feel you wrapped around his cock.

You were already pushing your leggings and panties down over your hips and kicking them off as you pushed him back towards his bed, his knees hitting the edge and sending him falling on his back. It was your turn to pin his hands above his head as you climbed on his lap and impaled yourself down his length with a satisfied sigh, rolling your hips and taking your pleasure from him. His eyelids were hooded as he bent his knees and thrust up into you, your head tipping back with a cry as he bumped your cervix.

“God, I hate you so much.” You moaned as he tore his hand from your grip and pressed his thumb to your clit. “But you fuck so good.”

“That right, doll?” He chuckled. “I don’t think you hate me at all.”

“Just shut up and fuck me, Barnes.”

His smirk grew before he flipped you over and bent your knees to your chest. Your head was spinning from the short breaths you were forced to take in the position he put you in and you knew you would have bruises from the tight grip he had on your thighs. You loved the marks he left but you were also very wary of where he left them, not wanting the team to know the two of you were fucking.

“Look at that pretty pussy.” He said with a lick of his lips as he watched his cock disappearing at your entrance. “Taking my cock so well.”

You cried out as he added a finger to your cunt and felt the burning stretch before he pulled it and ran the juices he had gathered over your clit, teasing and swirling it as your legs began to tremble. Heat flashed over your body as your orgasm built, your walls fluttering around him and tightening with every long stroke.

“Don’t stop, oh please, don’t stop.” You begged as your body hung suspended by invisible strings, Bucky the puppetmaster.

His own pace faltered as he felt your muscles clamp down and those invisible strings were cut, limbs losing all ability to function as waves of pleasure wracked your body. Unable to hold back as your pussy gripped and massaged him, he came with a deep moan of his own and let your legs fall around him as he twitched inside your deliciously aching cunt. He wasn’t in any rush to pull out as your aftershocks sent ripples up cock and soft moans from his mouth in his sensitive state of bliss.

Pushing him off you, you brushed away his hand that tried to curl around your waist. “Stay the night, doll, no one is going to give a shit. We’re both consenting adults.”

“You know that’s not how I roll. I have rules for a reason.”

“Fuck the rules, we could wake up like this everyday, sex every morning, in the shower.” His promises sounded good but you reminded yourself of the first rule. “Guess you really are just using me like every other woman has.”

“You know, if you’re trying to make me feel guilty, you’ve succeeded.” You said as you pulled your panties up your legs.

“So stay.” He said as he opened his blankets for you.

“Sorry, Barnes, rules are rules.”

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---

This is absolutely perfect !! I need a part 2 god

Moon Struck

Summary: Steven asks you out, Marc falls in love.

"“Cheers,” Steven chirps quietly, ignoring Marc. He knows he has a goofy smile on his face, he knows that he’s just staring at you.

But you’re smiling back and Marc is strangely quiet now, a glow of happiness lingers there. Steven has a suspicion that he’s happy too, basking in the fact that you said yes."

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader

Word Count: ~8.3k

Warnings: mostly fluff, canon-typical violence, threats of violence, angst mostly from Marc because he's just like that

A/N: My first moon knight fic! Please, please, please let me know what you think!

“Steven!”

Steven ignores the shout of his headmate as he hurries through the museum. 

He’s late, and he so hated making you wait for him. He had promised you long ago a personal tour of the museum. One you had insisted for months he eventually give you, when he had time. 

His heels drag, Marc putting on the brakes as he fronts for just a moment. 

Steven nearly drops the travel cup of tea he’s carrying, briefly tripping over his own feet and drawing the attention of several nearby people listening to a museum tour guide. 

“Sorry!” He gives an awkward wave before continuing on. 

“Would you stop that, Marc!” He glances at his reflection in the display case he’s passing. “You’re making us late.”

“I’m making you late. I didn’t agree to this.” Marc’s shoulders are tense, the line of his brows drawn together. 

Steven wonders if he’s wearing the same expression and briefly passes a hand over his face. He doesn’t want to be scowling when-

He bursts through a doorway, into the Egyptian exhibition, and spots you waiting exactly where you said you would be. 

A shy smile tugs at his mouth, and he tries straightening his shirt collar and running a hand through his unruly curls. He knows it's useless, that his shirts are perpetually wrinkled and his hair nearly always a mess. 

Marc has gone sullenly silent, and he knows he’s watching you too. 

Marc, for reasons Steven cannot begin to parse out, does not like you. 

Or, he pretends not to. 

Again, for reasons unknown. 

Which is entirely bonkers, because you are the most brilliant person Steven has ever met. 

He fidgets with the sleeve of his shirt, which is worried and frayed at the edges from his nervous fingers. 

Despite rushing moments earlier, he’s now anxious about how to actually approach you. 

You were his friend, he should have no problem with walking over and saying hello. 

Steven shifts from foot to foot as people swim around him in the doorway. He’s acutely aware that he’s stood in everyone’s way, the cup of tea in his hand going cold. 

The other thing he’s been promising you for months, a proper cup of tea. 

“Good,” Marc says, reflected in another display case, hands on his hips, chin lifted, “you see how stupid this is. Let’s go home.” 

But it isn’t stupid. 

It’s not stupid to want this. 

It’s not stupid to want you. 

Steven swallows, watching you move to read another plaque. 

As you read, your shoulders droop and then you dig in the bag slung over your shoulder. You glance at your phone when you find it, before tucking it away again. 

Then, you glance at your wristwatch, like it might tell you a different time than your phone had. 

You sigh and move toward the exit. 

Which is Steven’s cue to call your name, loudly. 

So loudly in fact that people turn to look at him. 

Brilliant. Already making a fool of myself. 

“Which is why we should just go home-,” Marc starts, but Steven ignores him. 

Marc, the absolute worry wart, thought you would break his heart. 

You’re smiling at him, a hand lifted in greeting as he approaches you. He would like to think you look relieved, happy to see him. 

But you’re like the sun, and probably look at everyone that way. 

He nearly stumbles into you, hastily handing you the cup of tea, wrapping your fingers around the cooling paper cup, his fingers laced over yours. 

“I was meant to bring you a proper cup and here I am with cold tea.” 

“Hardly very polite of you,” you tease. “Late to meet someone and with a cold cup of tea.” You smile and tsk under your breath. 

Steven fidgets and releases your hand on the cup, fingers nervously tangling together in front of his chest instead. “I’m really so very sorry. I’m always running late. I-I meant to be early today-,”

“Oh, my God,” Marc mutters. 

You lie a hand against Steven’s arm, stilling the nervous fluttering of his hands. “I was teasing you. It’s alright. I do expect an extra long tour though.”

Steven nods, staring at the shape of your eyes, the flutter of your lashes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

You’re quite close to him, his head bent over yours, and he thinks he can see all the shades hidden in your eyes. 

“You look like a love-struck moron,” he catches the reflection of Marc behind your head, arms crossed over his chest, brows still pulled together in that irritated line. “Stop staring at her like that.” 

But he notices that Marc is staring at you too, looking at the back of your head, like he could see to the marrow of you, and your intentions, if he just looked hard enough. 

But there’s a dip in his voice that makes Steven think he might be just a tiny bit jealous. 

Steven shakes his head, trying to ignore Marc’s acid comments. 

“Of course,” he says, glancing down at your hands, the cup held between them. “Would you try it, please?”

Steven had been shocked to find out you were a coffee drinker only, that you had never really tasted tea, at least not a proper cup. 

“I’ve had iced tea,” you had offered weakly, only for Steven to wrinkle his nose. 

“Cold tea? Why would anyone enjoy that?”

Now, he’s brought you a cup of cold tea anyways, and it was tea that wasn’t even meant to be cold. 

You smile at him, lifting the cup as you brightly say, “Cheers!” in your best impression of his accent. 

It’s quite terrible, and makes him laugh.

You take a sip, a considering look pulling over your features. 

“It’s really better when it's hot,” Steven says, awaiting your verdict like it really mattered, like it was incredibly important that you liked the cup of tea he had brought you.

You tilt your head to the side and nod, “It's still warm.” You take another sip, which Steven takes as a good sign. Marc is watching you too, and Steven knows that Marc thinks he isn’t noticing the intense attention he gives you. “I like it. Did you put something else in it?”

Honey. 

He had put honey in despite his better judgment, because he noticed the way you absolutely hammered your coffee with sugar packets. 

“Honey,” he murmurs softly as you look into his eyes with a bemused smile on your face. “Just a bit. Figured you might like it better that way.” 

“Can’t say I’m a convert. Coffee will always have my heart,” you say. “But it is very good.” 

Steven is glad, so glad, you like it. 

Maybe it makes him unreasonably happy. 

“Cheers,” he says, still watching you carefully, smiling, his face very near to yours. He can see the fluttering of your lashes, feel the ghost of your breath. 

You don’t seem to mind the closeness. 

Marc rolls his eyes, and Steven puts a hand on your arm to pull you away from the reflection. 

So he doesn’t have to think about his annoyed alter. 

He tries not to be too upset with Marc, with his brooding protective streak. But he does wish that he’d lighten up just a bit. 

Steven’s heart is soft, it was going to be broken no matter what happened in their life. He was okay with that, especially if it meant spending time with you. 

But that was a hard pill for Marc to swallow.

His habit of shielding Steven was still a hard one to break, even now they were working together. 

“Where would you like to start?” Steven asks you, something like pride filling his veins as he watches you continue to sip at the cup of earl gray. 

“You’re the expert,” you say, looping your arm through his. “You tell me where we should start. Although, I’m very interested in Taweret, after the stories you’ve told me.” 

“Oh, she’s bloody amazin’,” Steven says, watching the quirk of your lips as he takes your duffle bag from you, slinging it over his own shoulder, conscious of Marc’s silence at the back of his mind. “‘Course we can start with her.” 

Steven leads you, the pressure of your fingers against his arm welcome, a warmth spreading up from his belly to land at the back of his mouth. 

It makes his heart ache and his fingers tremble. 

The feeling is strange and welcome. 

He likes you. 

Quite a lot, actually. 

Which was why he hoped today was the day he finally managed to ask you out, the reason Marc tried so desperately to make them late. 

He had met you before he knew about Marc, before their grand Egyptian adventure and Khonshu. 

When he first met you some months ago, you were wandering the halls of the museum, a duffle bag much like the one you have today slung over your shoulder, your head tilted to the side as you examined an exhibit. 

Steven was meant to have been helping Donna move gift shop inventory when he spotted you, brows furrowed as you read a plaque. It was the way you stood that caught his attention, with your toes pointed out and heels together. 

He couldn’t have looked away if he tried, and so he wasn’t surprised when he ran into someone and dropped the box of inventory, stuffed goddesses and cheap replicas of the pyramids spilling across the floor right to the tips of your toes. 

People weren’t exactly nice to Steven. 

He didn’t have any friends, his co-workers overlooked him, forgot him, or were rude to him. He had his mother, of course, but things always seemed to keep them from speaking directly.

He knows the truth now, about his and Marc’s mother, about Marc. 

Still, that day, as the man he bumped into gave him a dirty glare as he turned away, you had stooped down next to him and helped him tuck the merch back into the box. 

You had been kind to him, friendly as no one else was. 

Your hand had touched his and it had been like those moments in all the cheesy rom-coms he didn’t remember watching. He had looked up into your eyes, realizing he was still apologizing repeatedly out loud.

“Hey,” you had said, before tilting your head to the side and glancing down, “It’s okay. Do you need some help?”

No one offered Steven help, not with anything, even when he asked for it. 

And so he swallowed and nodded even though you, as a patron of the museum, should not have helped him. He should have refused your gentle help.  

But you’d helped him until Donna came along and shooed you away. 

He’d thought that he’d never see you again, but you visited the museum all the time, at least once a week. 

He found out that you’d recently moved to London, that you were a staunch coffee only person, that you were a dancer, that your childhood dream had been to be an archeologist before your talent for dance had destroyed that hope. 

You were more interested in Greek and Roman mythology, but quickly became fascinated with Egypt, and Steven had been delighted, weirdly, bizarrely proud that he had put you onto it. 

That you read the books he recommended, that you listened to the music he told you about. That you listened to him without interrupting, or sighing, or checking the time. 

Well, those things were only an incredible bonus. 

You made his throat close up some nights when he lay trying not to fall asleep, because you were the first friend he can remember having besides Gus or his mother. 

Steven was lonely, but you made his world a little less so. 

Now he has Marc, who’s more than enough company some days, a friend that never left him. 

He’d been worried, upon coming back to London, that you wouldn’t be there, that he had dreamed you up and you were never real in the first place. 

He’d been excited to let Marc see you through his own eyes, though Marc claimed with indifference that he remembered you, that he already knew you through Steven and didn’t need to meet you properly. 

Steven had a suspicion that the disinterest was feigned, that he cared too, to know if you were still in London. 

Steven didn’t work at the museum anymore, and so it had taken a week of hanging around the place to finally catch you there one day after a rehearsal. 

To his utter horror, you had been visibly upset with him. Though he had missed you and worried after you, he never imagined that you would do the same for him. “I thought you just - I thought maybe something horrible happened. You just disappeared and they said you were fired? I thought you disappeared and didn’t bother saying goodbye. Steven what happened-,” 

You had demanded his phone number, so you could always reach him. 

It was amazing really, that you had never had it before. 

Steven was just grateful you were still around, still coming by the museum.

Most worryingly though, Marc had not been impressed with you. Or pretended not to be. Though he tried to hide it, Steven always had a keen sense of how Marc really felt, and Marc cared more than he ever let on. 

Now, though, he feels the gentle pressure of your fingers against his arm and thanks whatever god that might be listening, that you were still around, a person that rolled with the punches life dealt. 

Against the advice of his alter, who had almost seemed nervous, Steven had told you everything about what happened in Egypt, about Khonshu and Marc and Layla and Ammit and everything in between. 

“Don’t do it,” Marc had snarled. “She’s gonna think you’re nuts. She’s going to-. 

Marc hadn’t finished his thought. 

Whatever ridicule and judgement he had anticipated, you hadn’t fallen to his expectations. 

You had listened and somehow understood. 

“So,” you ask now as Steven leads you through the museum, “How is Marc?”

“Being a bit of a knobhead at the moment, to be honest,” Steven says, watching the smile that tugs at your mouth. 

“Oh. Khonshu related or..?”

Steven’s always honest with you, and so he doesn’t lie now. “Wasn’t too keen on my meeting you today, actually.” 

You nod as Steven leads you past an exhibit, into an adjoining room, past a miniature construction of the Pyramids of Giza. “Marc doesn’t exactly like me, does he?”

Steven waits for the snort from Marc, for a derisive comment. But nothing comes. 

The silence is more telling than anything. 

“No, he’s just a bit-,” Steven stops, wiggles his fingers, not really sure how to explain exactly how Marc was. 

You smile weakly at him, “We don’t have to talk about it, Steven. I know he’s very protective. In any case, I’m glad you like me. And I really care for you. I hope Marc knows that, at least.”

Marc remains stubbornly silent. 

Steven gives you the tour of the museum he always dreamed of giving when he worked there. You listen to him attentively, you ask him questions, and for the remainder of the day, Marc is quiet, though Steven knows he’s present, listening in instead of walling himself off. 

Mostly Marc leaves Steven be, when he’s with you. He can’t be mad at the happiness you bring, though he tries to protect the system in his own way. Steven knows it's why he’s so surly though he wishes he’d give you a chance. 

Marc claims that one of them needs to be clear headed, rational, when you inevitably break their heart. 

So, he’s surprised, when you’re leaving the museum near closing and asking Steven about what brand of tea he would recommend so you can start making it at home, Marc’s voice echoes in the back of his head. “Ask her out. You said you were going to today.”

Steven glances down, at the watery refraction of Marc staring up at him from a dirty puddle on the front steps of the museum. 

Marc says, surprisingly gentle, “You’re happy with her. Ask.” It's only  slightly demanding in tone. Steven suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. 

But his alter is right. 

So, Steven stumbles to a halt nearly knocking you into the puddle. 

And asks. 

“Wondering if maybe you’d come out on a date with me?”

You blink, your hand on his arm where you’d caught your balance, his fingers around your other wrist.

You just stare at him, your lips parting in surprise. 

Fear wells up into the back of his throat when you don’t immediately answer and he starts to stutter out an apology. “Sorry, sorry, don’t know what’s come over me just then. Just a bit taken with you, I suppose.” Steven swallows, feels the words pressing at the inside of his lips, nervous chatter threatening to break free. “You’re quite beautiful and very kind - bit inevitable that I’d have a crush on you, innit?” 

You blink again, stunned, like you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You have a crush on…me?” 

“Yes, no - well, yes, I do but -,” It’s not just a crush. Crush seems like a silly little word for the feelings you make flop around inside him. Squiggly, fuzzy feelings. 

“Shut up, Steven, give her a chance to reply.” Marc snaps at him, like he’s just as afraid that Steven will mess this up. 

He takes a steadying breath, reminding himself that you were truly very kind, and that if you said no, it would not be the end of all he held dear. “Yes, I quite like you. You’re kind and beautiful and smart. What’s not to like?”

“Nice job.”

And for once, Marc doesn’t sound sarcastic. 

His helpfulness is strange for someone who had been so against the notion mere hours ago. 

Steven bites down the rest of the words swimming in his mouth, telling himself that Marc is right about this thing. He needs to let you reply. 

“I, um, yeah,” you smile, almost like you’re unsure if he really just asked you, “yes. I’d like to go on a date.”

Steven stares at you, not sure he heard right. “Really?”

“Really.” 

“Jesus.”

“Cheers,” Steven chirps quietly, ignoring Marc. He knows he has a goofy smile on his face, he knows that he’s just staring at you. 

But you’re smiling back and Marc is strangely quiet now, a glow of happiness lingers there. Steven has a suspicion that he’s happy too, basking in the fact that you said yes.

Oh. Oh. 

Maybe Marc likes you too.

He was just shit at showing it, saying it.

Maybe that’s why he’s so concerned about the breaking of Steven’s heart, because it might break his too. 

“Oh,” you say, suddenly digging in your bag, still hanging on Steven’s shoulder. He shifts so you can better reach. “I got this for Gus the Second. I forgot to mention it earlier, although now is such a stupid time to be giving it to you,” you say, dipping your fingers into a pocket and bringing out a tiny replica of the Great Sphinx. “Sorry if he already has this one.”

You seem flustered with yourself, like you’re ruining a moment, when all your gift makes him want to do is kiss you. 

He flustered you too, apparently.

You got his fish a gift.  

Steven takes the replica from you gently, sliding his thumb along the surface. “Oh, he’ll absolutely love it.” He pauses, “You said yes, yeah? To a date? With me?”

Something about it doesn’t compute. Maybe you’ve confused him with someone else. 

“Yeah,” you say. “Did you have something in mind, Steven?”

“Er-,” he hadn’t thought that far ahead, but his name on your lips is like a balm. Everything would be okay. 

“Just dinner, Steven,” Marc says. “Doesn’t have to be elaborate.” 

Steven doesn’t dare look down at the puddle. Doesn’t want to see the smirk on Marc’s face that he can hear in his voice.  

“Dinner?” He hesitates. “Tomorrow sound good, yeah?”

“Yes,” and when he looks at you, you’re smiling. Like this was something good. Something you’ve been waiting for. “7 o’clock?”

“Brilliant.”

He tilts his head toward you, just to be a bit closer to you. 

It’s still a surprise when you lean up and kiss him gingerly, your lips soft and lingering. 

When you pull away, his heart is dancing and you are glowing. 

~

Marc is hesitant to speak to you, though he would never admit it to a soul. 

Steven probably knows, but he would never say so. 

He’s content to watch you through the eyes of his alter. You are Steven’s girl after all. 

Made of sunshine and steeped in warmth. 

You are not his. 

But Marc worries about you almost non-stop. He thinks about you constantly. He tells himself it's because Steven would break if something happened to you. 

But he knows. He knows when you laugh at something Steven says, he knows when you show up at the flat soaked to the bone from a downpour but smiling. He knows when you break in a new pair of ballet shoes against the hardwood floor of the flat. 

“You need to teach her self-defense,” He tells Steven when Marc is the one fronting.

“I’m not going to do that, Marc. She’s been safe before we met her, she’s safe now.” 

Yeah, only now you know about Moon Knight and Khonshu and everything. You know everything. 

Yet you never mention it, never ask. 

Occasionally, you will inexplicably leave a note for Marc, stuck against the glass of Gus the Second and Gus the Second’s Friend’s tank. 

Marc can’t make himself understand it, the way you leave little notes, ask Steven about what kinds of food he likes, ask how he’s doing.

Today’s note said - 

There’s a performance today. I know Steven has come to plenty, but I would love to see you there. 

You sign it with your name and a little heart. 

“She knows you care about her, Marc,” Steven says from the reflection in the tank, Gus and Friend behind his head. “She knows you follow her home when she works late.” 

“Only because you told her,” he snaps. “She didn’t need to know that.” 

Steven only gives a long suffering sigh. 

You know, you know that he follows your route home each night, to make sure you got there safe. And so you had taken up the inexplicable habit of talking to him as you walked. There was no way for you to know if he heard you, when he followed in the ceremonial armor on the buildings above you.

Still, you do it each night without fail. 

Marc, if he’s honest with himself, does not deserve to know you. Does not deserve the notes, the home cooked meals in tupperware left in the fridge with his name written in sharpie on the side of the box, does not deserve your late night chatter and one sided conversations. 

“She’s trying really hard. It hurts her feelings that you won’t even say hello to her. She isn’t expecting you to feel about her the same way I do.” 

Marc doesn’t respond, unsticking your note from the fishtank instead, folding it and tucking it inside his jacket pocket. 

He knows that it hurts your feelings. He sees it in your eyes every time you ask Steven about him, every time he refuses to meet you, even though he knows you, remembers you through Steven’s eyes from before Steven had been aware of him, back when he struggled to maintain Steven’s ignorance of the truth of his situation. 

You don’t know him though, so he’s not sure why it matters to you. 

But he catches Steven’s exasperated expression in the mirror by the door and he knows. 

It matters to you, because it matters to Steven. 

Not because you care about Marc. 

But because he is Steven’s best friend. 

And that is the problem. 

Because he wants you to care about him. 

“So you’ll follow her but you won’t just say hello? Marc, you could just introduce yourself and walk her home, yeah? Instead of stalking after her like a deranged bird?” 

Marc ignores him, ceremonial suit slipping over his skin, mask covering his face.

“Nope. This is much easier.” 

Steven only sighs again. 

~

“I just wonder if I’m any good for you,” you admit to Steven one rainy summer evening. You are propped in the window with a book, Steven on the couch with an open text. 

The air is warm enough that you leave the window open, the sound of rain and traffic drifting through the flat. 

Steven turns to you, taking the glasses perched on the end of his nose off. He frowns at you, brows pulling together over the round brown eyes you’ve come to love. 

He closes the book he had been pouring over. “What d’ya mean, love?”

“Just that,” you pause, trying to gather your thoughts. “I just know Marc is rather protective. And maybe if he doesn’t-,” You swallow, “Maybe I’m not really any good for you.”

Steven holds his arms out to you, and you readily cross the room to fit yourself in his arms, head tucked neatly beneath his chin. “You certainly are good for me. Too good for me.” You feel his chin against your forehead, gently drifting back and forth. “Don’t pay Marc any mind.” 

“Does he hate me?” You pull back to look in his eyes.

“Now, who could hate you?” 

You press a hand to the back of Steven’s neck, fingers trailing up to thread through his hair. He readily leans his forehead against yours, his warm breath ghosting over your lips. 

You feel Steven tilt his head up a bit, and you know he’s watching the mirror, communicating with his alter who wanted nothing to do with you. 

“Could you tell him I don’t want anything from him? That I’d just like to introduce myself? He’s your best friend and I’d just like to say hello.” 

“He hears you,” Steven says. “Just being a bit of a pain in the arse as usual.” 

You suppress a laugh and tilt your head back to meet Steven’s eyes, cradling his jaw between your palms, sweeping your thumb over the thin scar above his brow. “He should know I’m not pressuring him, just that I would very much like to meet him, if he felt inclined.” Steven opens his mouth when you continue, “And that he’s become rather poor at hiding the past few weeks.”

“What?” 

“Just have noticed a certain caped individual on my walks home the last few weeks.” 

Steven’s mouth quirks, his eyes sliding to the mirror again. “He says you have a rather keen eye.” 

“Not so. It’s very hard not to notice sometimes.” As you speak Steven’s brows pull together and he frowns. “What's he saying?”

Steven glances back to you, his nose nearly touching yours. “Nothing you should worry your pretty head about,” he says, reaching up to cradle the back of your head, his lips finding yours, soft as the touch of a feather. “He can tell you himself if he bloody well pleases.” 

You feel slightly reassured as Steven kisses you, tilts you back against the couch cushions and slots himself against you, fingers running shakily up your side against your sweater. You dip your hands under his shirt, laughing quietly when he jumps at the sensation of your fingers against his scarred ribs. 

You feel better, at least, knowing that Steven wants you to meet Marc. 

You wonder what holds him back, what holds him back from even a hello. 

But Steven is kissing you and it becomes rather hard to concentrate. 

~ You talk to Marc on your way home from the theatre each night. 

You know he can hear you, walking on the rooftops above the streets you traverse each night. 

It makes you feel safe, knowing that he’s there, knowing that he cares enough to make sure you got home. 

You tell him about your day, quietly talking to yourself, drawing some curious stares but not too many. If these were the only interactions he would allow then you would make the most of them. 

You think you’ve seen Marc before. That he’d come into the museum once so that Steven wouldn’t miss work. His brows had been knitted tightly together, eyes narrower, mouth a hard frown. 

He hadn’t spoken to you that day, while Steven always made sure to, always. 

It’s raining when you leave the theater this night, your duffle bag slung across your shoulders, hood pulled up over your head as you race down the back steps, eager to get home, to make a cup of the calming tea Steven had gotten you and sleep. 

Your feet and ankles are sore and you felt like a good cry was in order. 

You don’t look up as the rain pounds down, sure that your guarding protector would be there as he always was. You just didn’t have the energy to greet him this night. 

Although you left rehearsal early, Marc always had a way of knowing when you left, of always being there. He was reliable, steady, even if he mostly avoided you. 

Tonight though, you wish you could go home and call Steven, though you know he won’t pick up, not until morning. Steven was who you called when you needed to cry, when you needed comfort. 

Steven was soft, in a way no one else you’ve ever known has been. 

You love dance, but the toll it took on your mental health some days made you wonder if it was at all worth it. 

Your thighs burn and your ankles ache, and you remember the way you were out of step and how the choreographer had sighed. The sound worse than disappointment and closer to condemnation. Maybe you aren't good enough to hack it in this particular dance company, and not for the first time, you think about going home.

The rain continues, drenching you to the bone. It pounds against the pavement beneath your feet, so loudly you don’t hear the footsteps trailing after you. 

You duck down an alleyway, a shortcut you don’t normally take because you’d rather take the longer way around and chatter at Marc. 

But you can’t be bothered tonight. You don’t even look up. 

If you had, you’d have known he wasn’t there, and then maybe you’d have stayed in the safety of the theater for just a bit longer, waited until he showed himself. 

One moment you’re hurrying along, the next a hand is pressed to the back of your neck, shoving you into the brick wall of the alley. 

You open your mouth to scream but a knife presses to the skin of your throat. It digs in just a little as the pressure at the back of your neck disappears and your bag is ripped off your shoulder. 

“Search that for me, yeah?” A male voice says before he leans into you, pressing your body into the wall with the heaviness of his own. 

You hear your things being ripped out of the bag, your dance garments and tights. Extra shoes. Ballet slippers. A bag of toiletries. 

“Search her, then. She ain’t got anything in here.”

Hands dig into you, rough and careless. But you don’t have anything on you, not even your wallet or phone, you know they’ll find nothing and then what?

What will be left for them to take? 

The knife divots into your skin, you feel the warmth of your own blood trail down your neck. 

Surreptitiously, you tilt your head up. Maybe Marc really has hated you all this time, and he’s about to let you be killed in this dirty alley. 

But there’s no one watching you, and you have to wonder for a moment if anyone ever had been there, as the unknown hand gropes through your pockets and then pats down the sides of your thighs. 

You wonder if you should fight. 

Was it better to let whatever was about to happen, happen? Or to try to fight? To at least be able to flee? 

You decide to fight when a figure appears in the corner of your vision. 

One that the two men behind you apparently do not notice. 

The knife disappears from your neck and your head is smashed into the brick instead. 

Your vision dances, Khonshu apparently only visible to you. 

“Do not worry, little bug. My Moon Knight is on his way.”

The skeletal bird you’re staring at can only be Khonshu or a terrible hallucination. 

If he’s a hallucination, does that mean they already stabbed you and you’re bleeding to death? 

“You are not hallucinating,” comes the booming voice of the god of the night sky. “Follow my instruction.” 

Khonshu, who you have no choice but to trust as your assailants argue about whether to kill you, tilts his head.

You are told to drive your right foot directly back, then twist and punch as hard as you can. 

“Then run,” is the last piece of advice before the blasted bird disappears. 

You have no choice but to follow the advice, and hope Marc or Steven really are nearby. 

When you drive your foot back, it connects with a knee. A strangled cry goes up as you twist and blindly punch. Your fist lands on something meaty, sending a shockwave up your arm. Bone cracks. 

You flee the second the hands leave your body, and you think for just a moment that you’ll get away, that you’ll make it to the deserted but well lit street at the other end of the alley. 

But fingers hook into the hood of your jacket which had fallen back off your head. You’re jerked off your feet, clotheslined jacket knocking the breath out of your lungs. 

Still you manage to scream as you fall, palms scraping against the pavement, the knee of your jeans ripping open. 

You roll, acting on pure instinct, driving your leg up into the gut of the man that falls on top of you to square a punch into your ribs. 

“You little bitch-,” 

You whip out a hand and claw his face, his friend stooping to cover your mouth as the knife appears again, shining metal gleaming by the curve of your cheek.

But something - someone - else has appeared. 

Indeed, Khonshu’s Moon Knight is stalking down the alleyway behind them. 

It gives you the determination to shove the man on top of you with all your strength, kneeing him between the legs as you go, the knife slices at your cheek as the man behind you says, “Oy! Stop struggling and-,” 

You never find out what else you should do as the other man’s weight disappears and a fluttering white cape engulfs you. 

You get to your feet shakily and when you look up, it's to meet the blinding white gaze of Marc Spector. His arm is around your waist, the cape like a blanketed cocoon against you. 

“Go to the street. I’ll come to you.” His voice is American and gruff and unexpected. 

“Marc-,” 

But he lets go of you, spins you and pushes you gently in the direction of the street.

You go, rainwater sluicing against your skin. You hear bones snap, the sound of flesh against flesh but you don’t turn or stop until you reach the street. Cars trundle by, a few pedestrians are walking further up the road. No one pays you any mind, the callousness of strangers shocking and not shocking in equal measure. 

The contrast to your fight in the alley is startling, and you feel the burn of tears at the backs of your eyes, the fingers of pressure on your throat as you hold them back.

You don’t hear anything from the alley now, but a few minutes of shivering in the rain later Marc appears, your ruined bag over his shoulder.  

He crowds close to you without a word, lifting your chin with a curled finger beneath your chin. The fabric of the suit is gauzy and warm against your skin, not damp despite the rain. He peers into your eyes, focus shifting to your cheek and then neck, before he takes your hands in both of his, and examines the broken skin of your palms. 

He makes a noise of discontent as he examines you. 

He holds your fingers so tenderly you wonder if he realizes who you are. 

“Marc?” You ask gently. “Are you okay?” 

His head snaps up but he doesn’t answer, just stares at you with that furious white gaze. 

“Could I see your face at least?” 

He hesitates, but only for a moment, before the wispy material covering his face slides away. The humidity and rain make his curls unruly, a lock of hair sticks to the sweaty skin of his forehead.

It’s Steven, and very clearly not Steven. 

You swallow, and touch his cheek. “Are you okay?” You ask again. 

You regret touching him immediately. It’s likely not something he wants from you. 

Steven would have leaned into your palm, but Marc goes still confirming your worry, his brows pulling together, eyes narrower than Steven’s rounded gaze.

You drop your hand, and Marc’s gaze follows your hand. 

Instead of answering, Marc asks, “Do you have a first aid kit at your place or do we need to go to Steven’s?” 

“I have one,” you say softly.

Marc is so very close to you, his head bent over yours. His skin is damp and glowing, eyes such a deep umber that you feel like getting lost in them. His breath falls against your lips.

You inhale sharply at the closeness, breathing in the smoky jasmine and lavender scent that lingers around him, the tang of copper just beneath. Steven smelled like tea and cotton and you wonder briefly if the fragrance is thanks to the suit. 

But then he nods, all business, the rest of the suit sliding away as he pulls away and nudges you in the direction of your flat, not taking the shortcut through the alley, of course. 

“Did you kill them?” 

Marc stiffens, responding gruffly, “No. Just some broken bones.” 

You watch his jaw clench before you carefully reach out and tangle your fingers with his again. He probably thought you thought the worst of him, that he was a cold blooded killer. “I wouldn’t have mourned if you did.” His eyes snap to yours, surprised at the brutality in your shaky voice. “Thank you for coming.” 

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” 

You smile, the movement making the cut on your cheek weep blood, “I received instructions from a rather strange looking bird.”

“Khonshu,” Marc mutters. “Bastard.” 

You hum, and feel the bizarre sensation of Marc Spector sliding his thumb gently across the back of your hand.

Once in your flat, Marc seats you at one of the two chairs at your tiny kitchen table in your tiny place’s kitchen. 

He kneels in front of you, even though he could take the other chair, and carefully tilts your chin up, dabbing gently at the cut on your neck, then your cheek.

“Did you hear me all those nights? When I spoke to you?” 

Marc nods, turning to grab an antiseptic ointment and a roll of gauze. “Yeah, I heard you.” 

“Why haven’t you-,” you bite your tongue. “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me. Or, talk to me. I’ve been telling myself that ever since Steven told me the truth. You’re just very important to Steven, of course I would like to meet you.” 

Marc goes still for a moment, deep brown eyes meeting yours. “Yeah, makes sense.” He finishes with your cheek and gently brushes his thumb over the column of your throat. 

You tell yourself he’s checking the bandage. 

But your heart beats wildly in your chest. 

“You’ll tell Khonshu thank you? From me? Suppose he did actually give me some helpful advice-,”

“No,” Marc suddenly says, intense in his fierceness, the set of his features grim. “Not when its his fault, my-my fault, our fucking fault you were alone in the first place-,” 

“Hey,” you take his hands and feel them shaking in yours. “It's not. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just something that happened. And I’m glad you were around.” You grip his fingers and don’t let him pull away until the tremors subside. “Are you alright?”

He clears his throat, suspiciously glassy eyes not meeting yours, and then goes about cleaning your bruised palms and your cut knuckles. 

Marc sighs abruptly, not answering you, and turns to look into the shining reflection of your floor length mirror. “Steven says he’s proud of you.” He looks away and continues wrapping your hands, “He also won’t let me forget that I haven’t asked you if you’re okay.” 

You open your mouth to reply when Marc bites out brusquely, “Are you okay?” 

You smile, imagining the irritation in Steven’s voice, Bloody hell, Marc! Telling her I’m bothering you about asking her if she’s okay and actually asking her is not the same thing!

“I’ll tell you if I’m alright, if you tell me if you are.” 

Marc snorts, “I can tell by looking at you.” His head twitches toward the mirror again and you know Steven must be annoying him about invisible injuries. You wait for a moment while they seem to have a silent conversation. 

You stop Marc’s hands when he moves to look at your knee instead of answering. “Just a simple yes or no. Nothing more.” 

He looks up at you, brows still tight over his eyes, expression stony, frowning at you so intensely you have to wonder what he sees when he looks at you. “Yes.” 

“Brilliant,” you smile. 

“Yes or no?” He asks you. 

You brace a hand on his shoulder, pushing yourself up, “Yes. I am okay. Does Steven know?”

“He hears you,” his grim gaze drifts back to the mirror. “Sit back down, I’m not done with you.” 

You pat his chest gently when he stands too, close and towering, what should be intimidating. “Yes, you are,” you return firmly. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you drink tea, or is that a Steven thing?”

“Coffee, if you have it.”

You can’t help but smile. 

“We need to wrap your knee though,” he doesn’t let the injury go. “It might get infected.”

You glance down at the scrape, then at the worried frown on Marc’s face. “Shall I change first? That way I don’t just tear the bandage anyways taking these wet jeans off.” 

Marc eyes your wet clothes, the way you shiver, head tilting to the side, like he’s listening. 

He concedes with a nod. 

~

Marc watches you make a cup of tea for yourself and hesitate at the coffeemaker. 

He thinks for a moment that you hesitate because you’re realizing that if you start the pot, you won’t only have to wait for it to brew but for Marc to drink it. 

But when you turn, you only frown at him and ask, “Are you quite sure about the coffee? You won’t sleep. I have more than enough chamomile tea-,” 

“Coffee is fine.” 

You dip your head and turn back to the pot. 

Steven sighs, “You can let her take care of you too, Marc.” 

Marc ignores Steven, refuses to meet his gaze in the shining reflection of your toaster. 

He feels the bone-deep weariness creep up on him, crash over his shoulders, as you set a cup of coffee in front of him a few quiet minutes later. 

“Steven pokes fun at me for my sugar habit. But this is a judgment free zone so don’t be afraid to tell me how you take it.” 

Marc glances into the cup, black coffee staring back up at him. 

“Sugar and milk,” he says and watches you smile, the gauze wrapped around your neck making his skin prickle. 

He should have killed those men for daring to lie a hand on you. He glances at your wet duffle bag, dejectedly lying in a heap in the corner of the kitchen. “Sorry about your stuff.” 

“It’s just things,” you say, wincing as you sit down across from him, setting down a carton of milk and bowl of sugar with a spoon.

He tips his head to the side to glance at your scraped knee under the table, the wince not matching the injury. Had he missed something? Though he supposes you’re probably sore after being thrown to the ground. 

“It’s not that,” you say, tucking your legs beneath you on the chair. “I was sore anyways. I’m always sore from dance. I have a high pain tolerance from all the years of training. Tonight wasn’t actually the worst night of my life.” 

Before he can respond, his heart sinking with your words, you continue. “That’s a neat trick though,” you fling your arms out and then around in an imitation of how he’d circled the cape around you. “Handy.” 

“It’s bulletproof. Most of the time,” he says, spooning sugar into his coffee, then a dash of milk. 

“Very handy, then.” You watch him for a moment before your fingers tangle anxiously together. “You know, I really am okay. Please don’t feel like you need to stay.”

“Marc,” Steven says, “She thinks you hate her. Open up to her just a bit, yeah?” 

“I don’t hate you,” Marc says, ignoring the exasperated goan from Steven at his blunt response. “I don’t. And I’ll stay, for a while at least. You hit your head,” he reaches out and touches the bruise forming at your temple. He should have cut off their hands for that, broken each finger, twisted the ligaments out. “You might have a concussion,” he keeps his voice as level as he can.  

You nod and swallow, “Is Steven okay? I haven’t worried him too badly, have I?” 

Marc briefly closes his eyes, hearing all over again the screams of his headmate when Khonshu told them you were in danger. The force of his worry had almost forced Marc into the backseat, but he knew he was better suited to handle whatever was happening to you. 

That he could steal himself and deal. With this, he could deal, after all the years Steven had protected Marc from himself, from memories better forgotten. 

If something had happened to you…

“He’s okay,” Marc eventually answers, opening his eyes to find you watching him worriedly. “He was very worried about you.” 

“He knows I’m okay now?”

Marc sees Steven nodding at the back of your head sympathetically. “Yeah.” He licks his lips, takes a sip of the coffee, “I can…I can bring him out if you’d rather be with him.” 

You tilt your head to the side, like you’re considering it. “It’s okay. Not that I don’t want to see Steven, I do. I just…feel very safe at the moment. Maybe something to do with the cape.” You look away and take a sip of your tea. 

Steven is smirking in the toaster’s reflection, smug in a way that grinds at Marc’s nerves. 

The pair of you make no sense to Marc. 

“You into the cape, huh?”

“Oh, only a little. I wonder if your god would give me one.” Your eyes are sparkling, you’re teasing him and it makes his chest hurt in a pleasant way. 

But there was an idea Marc could get behind. Not that Khonshu would ever acquiesce. 

When you finish your tea, Marc shuffles you to the couch, prepared to watch over you for the night. 

You lie down, your legs tucked behind his back when he sits at the end of the sofa, like he’s familiar to you. And he supposes in a way he is, that you spend almost every evening together, despite his silence, and that you know the body he lives in. 

Marc flicks through the various streaming services on your TV, resting his other hand on your knee when you won’t stop squirming. 

“Hey,” he says, thumbing at your knee but not looking at you. “I know you’re okay now. But you might not be in a couple days, when the shock wears off. Takes time sometimes for something like that to catch up to you.” He squeezes your calf. “Let us know if that happens.” 

“Are you - both of you? Either of you?” 

His heart sinks just a little. “Yeah. Either. Both.” 

“Aw, Marc, I knew you liked her! I knew it!” Steven’s hands are folded over his heart, eyes wide and round. “Go on and kiss her!”

He will not be doing that. Knows that you wouldn’t welcome that. 

Instead he massages the flesh of your leg, and says, “Heat can help with muscle soreness. Do you have a heat pack somewhere?”

You turn on your back and put your feet in his lap, “Maybe. I’m okay like this for now.” You pull a blanket off the back of the sofa and drape it over both of you. 

He cups a hand around your socked ankle and says, “Don’t fall asleep.” He traces the delicate knob of bone beneath his touch. 

“Don’t think I could if I tried.” You go quiet for a moment, then say, “For the record, thank you. I’m really glad you’re staying with me.” 

The feeling that wells up in his chest almost chokes him. Marc can only nod, and even Steven stays silent for once at the wave of emotion that crashes through them both.

Being ignored by people because I request Muslim Y/N is my favorite thing on earth (note the sarcasm)

His Most Prized Possession

Pairing || Dark!Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Summary || You’re the wife of the most feared man in all of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes, the mob boss of the biggest mafia in town. Your his—his girl, his beauty, his love, his property, his most prized possession. He will torture and kill anyone who dares to make any advances on his woman, and he won’t hesitate to show them who you belong to in the most sinful way possible before their end…

Word Count || 8876

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut, Angst, Dark Themes — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, slight dub-con, Dark!Jealous!Possessive!Bucky, angry/vicious!Bucky, soft!Bucky, mob/mafia business, mention of drugs/alcohol, violence, implied use of weapons, implied torture, blood, murder, crying, use of force, graphic/explicit content/language, pet names (doll, baby, babe, princess + others), unprotected vaginal sex, exhibition kink, forced voyeurism, daddy kink, spit kink, degradation & praise kink, use of the word whore, dom/sub dynamics, oral (m & f receiving), teasing, begging, face/throat fucking, gagging, fingering, spanking, choking, rough fucking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, aftercare.

Authors Note || After a lot of work it’s finally done! I’m so proud of this! Please enjoy this twisted and sinful journey! Feedback would be so much appreciated on this piece <3 I want to know what you think!

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Mob!Bucky Masterlist

I don’t do taglists anymore so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

The Underground Lounge

It was the most high-profile club in all of New York City. A place for criminals, the filthy rich, politicians and like-minded people to converge in secrecy for whatever they desire with no repercussions, whether that be alcohol, drugs, women, sex or just a fun time. Everything and anything went down here.

The club was nestled deep below The Blend nightclub, which acted as a cover for the underworld of crime below.

They were both owned by James Buchanan Barnes—Bucky amongst friends and loved ones. The most feared man in all of the city and the mob boss of the biggest and baddest mafia in town. He was also your husband. Your dangerous, vicious and sexy husband.

You and Bucky would usually be at the club on the weekends for some party and fun, which you were right now.

The VIP area that was only reserved for Bucky and company was slightly elevated over the rest of the club—giving Bucky the best view to look over his domain. It also showed the guests that they were nothing compared to the boss sitting on the high throne. The VIP area had an abundance of seating places—fitting several people. All compacted in a sizeable curved couch with a low circular table in the middle to put drinks on or other substances, for that matter. There was also enough space for Bucky’s security to keep a lookout over the club and its activities.

Today it was only you and Bucky attending. No friends, no other company, except for your security detail.

With a good percentage of alcohol in your system, you and he were all over each other—lips sloppily crashing into one another as you moaned and groaned into each other's mouths and hands roamed both your bodies.

You'd unbuttoned a few buttons of his white long-sleeved shirt—wanting to feel his collarbone and chest underneath your fingertips as you made out. His dark blue velvet dress jacket was tossed to the side long ago. Your other hand rested delicately on top of his covered bulge—palming him ever so often.

Bucky’s hand kept a tight grip on your naked upper thigh; the short little dress you wore barely covered anything, giving him easy access to your skin. His other held your throat gently in his grasp, making it impossible to move away from him not that you wanted to.

Ever so slightly, he inches his way higher up your thigh, hicking your dress up with his moves, as he caressed your delicate skin with his rough hands, making you moan and whimper into his mouth. His end goal was to get into your panties—wanting to force his fingers knuckle-deep into you and have you make a mess all over them.

It wasn't unusual for him and you to get a little naughty together in the club. On multiple occasions, you'd have his fingers deep inside your pussy or straddle his lap to grind yourself on his clothed cock. And occasionally giving him a handjob here and there.

You'd think he would be against having you so exposed to everyone’s prying eyes since he was always so protective and possessive over you in day-to-day life. But on the contrary, he loved showing you off here. It gave him the power to assert his dominance over you and make everyone know that you're his—his girl, his beauty, his love, his property and his most prized possession.

This was his club—his rules—his everything. Everyone knew not to mess with the mob boss's precious wife. Not unless they had a death wish.

Your body tingled in anticipation of having his digits buried deep inside you. You were so ready for it. So needy for it, but… God, did you really have to pee now, urgently.

“Bucky.”

His name came out in a moan rather than a plea for him to stop with his touches, making him think you wanted more. He swiped your damp panties with his thumb while his lips assaulted your neck with licks, kisses and bites, making you whine even more.

“Bucky!”

You placed your hands on his chest, shoving him lightly off you, making him stop with his kisses and retract his hand from under your dress.

“What!”

An annoyed tone was laced in his voice, but that quickly turned into concern as he thought something was wrong.

“What is it, baby?”

His thumb caressed your cheek lovingly as he tried to search your face for any discomfort. There was none, so he didn’t understand why you'd make him stop.

“I just really need to go pee.”

He nodded his head in understanding and was about to call for one of the security to accompany you, but you stopped him before he could.

“No! I can go on my own.”

“Doll…”

He cocked his head to the side. He didn’t like that. He didn’t want you going on your own.

Although the club was a safe space for you to wander around due to everyone knowing who you were and not daring to approach you under any circumstances, Bucky still wanted you looked after due to the reason that occasionally a rouge and unwanted person managed to get into the club, despite the tight security, and cause chaos and bothering the other club patrons. But that rarely happened, and right now, you just wanted to go on your own without having anyone on your tail all the time.

“Please, Bucky,” you pleaded with those puppy-dog eyes you knew he couldn't resist, “if I'm not back in 15 minutes, you can come and find me.”

“Alright, princess,” he pecked your lips, “but hurry back to me, baby,” and once more, “because I need to bury my fingers in your tight little pussy….”

He cupped your core harsh, making you moan out at the roughness. Bucky groaned out as he touched what belonged to him.

“... my tight little pussy.”

He growled in your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand and your core pulsate at his filthy words.

“I’ll be right back, babe.”

You gave him one last peck before you got up and fixed your dress—the material had bundled up your hips entirely. Bucky gave you a light tap on your ass before you walked away in search of the bathroom.

You did your business in the bathroom and freshened up before walking out to the club’s main area.

Bucky hadn't left his positing from the VIP area. His leg was crossed over the other, and his arms rested on the back of the couch while he looked calm and relaxed. You wanted to take advantage of your freedom and decided to get a quick drink at the bar before returning to him.

You made your way to the bar that was settled in the middle of the club while swaying your hips to the music playing. Luckily, the bar wasn't packed, so it should be a quick deal.

You order the drink and make yourself comfortable with your elbows on the bar counter, squeezing your breasts together, almost exposing them entirely. Your ass poked out behind you—the dress so tiny and short that it almost showed your entire ass.

You knew everyone had their eyes on you, thirsting and yearning for you—for something they knew they could never have, and that's what you loved so much about it. In this club, you loved being a little cock-tease to everyone—it made you feel powerful.

While waiting for your drink, you scanned and observed the club’s guests. Most of them you'd seen before and recognised—politicians with their mistresses, criminals making shady deals with each other, and some new faces you'd never seen before. Everyone looked to be in great spirit and having fun tonight.

“My, my… don't you look pretty tonight.”

A deep, smooth voice murmured in your ear, making you jump out of your skin a little at the roughness of it. You thought it was Bucky for a second, but the voice didn’t match quite right. When you spun around, you found yourself caught in an intense gaze by a man. Usually, you'd back away and decline any stranger like that, but something about him just made your whole being scream in need.

The man oozed danger, sex and confidence—all things you loved and had gotten so used to with Bucky. So you couldn't help yourself when you got ensnared in this stranger's trap. You knew you shouldn't talk to this man. Bucky would be pissed if he found out. But Bucky wasn't here right now, and the drink should be done any second, so you decided to play along and then would politely decline once it was time. Bucky would never know.

“Well, hello to you, stranger.”

You batted your eyelashes at him and gave him your most appetising smile and gestures you could muster up, popping your hip out and tilting your head to the side, wanting to play a bit dirty and rile him up.

“My, you're the prettiest little thing in this whole club.”

He came closer, almost pinning you against the bar with his massive frame. He licked his lips as his eyes travelled across your whole body. This man was playing a dangerous game in approaching you like that—intentions clearly sexual.

He presented his hand, and you took it gladly, shaking it.

“The names Roman,” he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it while maintaining eye contact, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Roman?

Roman?

You'd heard that name before, but you couldn't quite put your finger on who he was. It was such an unusual name that you would think with such a name, you'd remember who it belonged to, but your mind was completely blank. It must be the alcohol and the intense surge of sexual energy you were experiencing.

“The pleasure is all mine, Roman,” you gave him your name, which made him smirk when he heard it.

“That's a beautiful name, princess. What brings you to this club, sweet thing?”

“Oh, I-”

The conversation was cut abruptly by someone grabbing Roman’s shoulder and pulling him away from you, turning him to face whoever it was.

You gasped.

Shit. It was Bucky.

His face was stone cold as he stared Roman down with absolute dark rage in his eyes. His fists clenched by his side—knuckles turning white.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Roman?” Bucky spat out while getting all up in his face.

Wait?

Bucky knew him?

Oh…

Oh!

Oh, no…

He was that Roman.

Shit. Now you remember.

He's the man that betrayed Bucky about a year ago and went to be with Bucky’s number one rivals instead. You remember at the time what kind of a toll it had taken on Bucky to be so gruesomely crossed.

This was not good. You felt so horrible and guilty now with the later knowledge of know this man was. How could you have forgotten him? Forgotten what he's done? You should have brushed him off instead of instigating his actions further.

You couldn't hear what they were saying because they were so up in each other's faces, but you could tell that it was a heated argument. You wondered what was being said. What kind of complications and events this would all lead to.

Suddenly, Bucky shoved him hard, and it looked like he would fight him right then and there. But he didn’t…

“You’re fucking dead, Roman,” Bucky uttered through gritted teeth.

Bucky came to your side and grabbed your arm hard. So hard that it hurt, and you winced and tossed to try and get out of his harsh grip, but he wouldn't budge. He pulled you back to the VIP area and ordered you to sit on the couch.

“Don't fucking move.”

His words were like poison, making you flinch at the absolute anger in his voice. Your eyes were becoming glossy—tears threatening to spill at any moment. You wrapped your arms around yourself for comfort.

How could you be so stupid? You should have just said no to Roman instead of acting like a fucking brat and whore—wanting to be a little cock tease for a man that wasn't even your man. You should have just been an obedient little wife and returned to your husband like you were supposed to.

Bucky was furiously talking to one of his men for several minutes. You saw how stressed, angry and fearful his demeanour was. His hand ran through his short hair multiple times. It was rare to see Bucky in this state. He was usually tough and determined, not bothered by what people said and did, and always in control of things. But it looked like Roman had really struck a sensitive nerve—said something that had put Bucky out of check.

When he was done conversing, he came back to you and took your hand, gently this time, and pulled you with him out of the main club area, not saying a thing. It looks like you were leaving. You went through the backdoor that was only used for you and Bucky and a selected few other people.

Once in the elevator, Bucky wrapped a protective arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his torso, still not saying anything. You wanted to say something. To plead for his forgiveness, but you felt awkward doing it in this tight place when you weren't alone. You would try and talk to him in the car when it was just the two of you.

Bucky ushered you into the backseat of the black luxury car, him getting in behind you. You weren't sure where you were going—home, most likely. The screen divider that separated the backseats and driver seat was up, so you were all alone, and you could finally try to talk to him.

“Bucky?”

You tried in a sweet and calm voice.

Nothing.

He pulled his phone out when it pinged with a message. His mouth remained in a thin line, eyebrows furrowed, with no emotions in his eyes as he typed on his phone before placing it inside his jacket.

“Bu-Bucky?”

Your weak voice cracked as his name came out in a sob this time.

“I-I’m so s-sorry. I-I shou-” You sobbed even more, unable to finish your sentence. You were about to cry any second, knowing that Bucky was mad and disappointed in you for being so stupid and reckless. You turned your head away from him, unable to look at his stern face.

“Doll…”

His voice was sweet compared to the poisonous one he used with you in the Underground. You thought he would yell at you once in the car. But it was the opposite. His loving and caring side surfaced—your wonderful husband that loved you beyond words.

“Baby…”

He grabbed your chin with his fingers and turned your head towards his. His eyes held nothing but love and adoration for you—his wife. His heart broke when he saw a few tears roll down your cheeks, your lips quivering.

“P-please d-don't be mad a-at me, Bucky.”

“Oh, baby… come here.”

He pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his strong arms around your waist. His head nuzzled in your neck as he laid tender kisses on the soft skin to try and soothe you,

“Mad at you? No, doll. I could never be mad at you, and I’m sorry it came across that way. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you like that, my sweet love.”

“Bu-but, you seemed s-so angry at me. Angry for what I’d done and who I was talking to. I swear, Bucky, I forgot who he was, and I-I just-”

“Doll.” He made you rest your forehead on his. His piercing blue eyes focused deep into yours—showing you that he spoke the truth. “I’m not mad at you at all. Please don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not your fault. Not even the slightest, ok? I love you, babydoll.”

“O-ok. I-I love you t-too, Bucky.”

He dried your tears while giving you a warm smile. “My precious girl.” He cradled your face in his hands and laid a light, comforting kiss on your lips. The kiss slowly progressed to a more passionate one—neediness and love poured into it.

The moment was quickly interrupted by Bucky’s phone pinging with a message in his jacket. He groaned as he fished it out to read it. You caught a glimpse and gasped when you saw what it said.

It's done.

You knew what it meant. It was the worst possible outcome following the events that unfolded in the club.

“Is, is he d-dead?”

“No, no, doll. They only questioned him, that's all.” Bucky tried to reassure you.

You knew what questioned meant. It meant that they had beaten the shit out of him, almost to the point of death. And although Bucky spoke the truth that Roman wasn't dead, he would be soon. Bucky never let something like what happened at the club go unpunished—people trying to cross his line. Certainly not when it comes to you. He would torture and kill anyone who made any advances on you, especially when they were fully aware of who you were and belonged to. And Roman most certainly knew what he was doing when he approached you. He wanted to provoke Bucky and test his limits. And now he would pay for it.

Maybe he didn’t think it through enough? Perhaps he thought he was safe because he was under the protection of Bucky’s rivals?

But one should never underestimate Bucky. He didn’t give a fuck who anyone belonged to, enemies or friends. If provoked, he would have you severely punished or, in the worst case, killed.

You shook your head—not wanting to think about it anymore. Instead, you lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder and close your eyes for the remaining car ride. His fingertips delicately caressing your arm lulled you to a relaxed and sleepy state…

———

“Doll,” his soothing voice murmured in your ear, pulling you out from the light sleep, “baby, we’re here.”

You softly moaned as you lifted your head and saw that you’d pulled into the garage of your penthouse—you were indeed home now. Luckily, because you were ready to cuddle up with your husband in bed and go to sleep in his loving and protective embrace.

“You want me to carry you?”

“N-no, I can go on my own.”

Once in the elevator, Bucky pressed the button for the roof terrace, not the apartment like you thought we would. You looked up at him. A confused expression on your face—eyebrows furrowed.

“Are we not going to bed yet?”

“Not yet,” he wrapped his arms around your shoulder, pulling you close to him, and kissed your head, “I have something I want to show you.”

What did he have to show you on the rooftop?

When the elevator arrived, Bucky took your hand and led you to the patio overlooking the light-filled city. Nothing looked unusual. Everything looked as it always did. There was no thing to show. So why did he bring you here?

“Bucky, what are we doing here?”

“Come.”

He led you to the very edge of the fence and wrapped his arms around you from behind. His head rested on your shoulder, and you leaned yours on his.

“Do you see, doll?”

“See what, Bucky?”

“The city!”

“Your city, babe.”

“Our city, baby girl. All of this is for you. Everything I do is for you. You and my undying love for you influence every decision I make in life.”

“James… you know I don't need any of this. I appreciate it, baby, you know that, but… I just need you.”

“I know, I only need you as well, but I just wanted you to know that we’re in this together. We can always count on each other. We will always have one another. Our love is powerful and unbreakable.”

“You know it, Bucky.”

You stood for a while longer. Staring out over your city as you swayed to imaginary music. Bucky’s lips graced your cheek as he whispered sweet nothings that had your heart burst with warmth, love and security.

Words can’t describe how much you loved this man. This vicious, menacing, murderous, but also affectionate, warm and joyous man. One would think such words couldn’t be combined to describe a man—that it doesn't fit. But Bucky was all those, and you wouldn’t change him for the world.

Your sweet bubble was interrupted by another notification on Bucky’s phone, making him groan in annoyance. He held one arm around your waist while the other retrieved his phone.

You couldn't see what it said this time, but he let out a groan of approval and then pulled you with him back to the elevator once he read it.

“Where are we going now? More surprises?”

“We’re just going to our room.”

Ah, finally. As much as you loved Bucky for bringing you up here and expressing his undying love for you, you really just wanted to snuggle up to him in bed now.

But once you arrived at your room, one of Bucky’s men was waiting by the door, which was highly unusual. You wondered what was going on. It probably had something to do about Bucky’s recent text message. Probably an update on Roman and his current… situation. But no matter what it was, you hoped it would be able to wait till the morning. You just wanted Bucky all to yourself now.

“Wait here, doll.”

You stood in place while Bucky approached his man. He whispered something to Bucky, and Bucky nodded before he called you over. The man bid you good night, and then it was finally just you and your husband.

“What was that all about, babe?”

“My love…”

He lay his hands on your shoulders, staring deep into your eyes with seriousness written all over his face.

What was going on?

Why was he acting so… strange?

“Yes, my dear?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do, Bucky, with my life.”

“Would you do anything I ask of you?”

You didn’t like to admit it, but you would kill for this man if the situation ever occurred.

“I-I… yes.”

“Then come with me,” he presented his hand, and you took it without hesitation, “don't be alarmed.”

Alarmed?

He opened the door to your shared master bedroom. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Although you trusted Bucky, his behaviour was more abnormal than usual, which scared you slightly.

You expected to be met with something significant while walking into the room, but there was nothing in the dim-lit room. It was a little hard to see with the lights out, so you scanned the entire space to try and find the abnormality—from the huge windows lining the outer wall, to the bed, and finally, the other side of the room. And that's when you saw it.

You gasped out loud in horror, eyes wide like saucers when you saw a person in the darkened corner of your room. It was a man—beaten, bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair. His scream was muffled by something shoved into his mouth.

Oh my god… it was Roman…

“B-Bucky, wha-”

What was happening? This was wrong. This was so wrong on so many levels. Bucky never brought any of his mob business into your home. He always tried to shield you from that gruesome aspect of his world as best as possible. So what was he doing?

You backed away slowly but were stopped by colliding into Bucky’s chest. He grabbed your upper arms to keep your shaking form in place. His breath fanned your face while he whispered in your ear.

“Don’t be scared, my love.”

You were very much horrified by the sight of a bloodied and bruised man bound tight in your room. I mean, who wouldn't be?

“Wh-what i-is going o-on?”

You contemplated screaming and running away. If that's what you wanted, Bucky would have let you go—he would never force you into doing something you absolutely didn’t want. But you didn’t move a muscle. This situation intrigued you. Bucky’s vicious and twisted mind fascinated you.

Although you were the innocent and sweet one in the relationship, you had a slight devious nature to you as well. So you wanted to see what kind of plans Bucky had in store for bringing Roman into your privacy. What kind of things does he want to do. So you let go of all your worries and went with the flow.

With Bucky’s hand secured around your neck, craning your chin up to make you look at Roman. Bucky spoke, loud enough for Roman to hear as well, the most sinful, possessive and immoral words he's ever uttered—making you shamelessly aroused and almost crumble to the floor.

“He’s gonna watch us, doll, all powerless tied up in that chair as I do with you as I please. He’s gonna watch as I undress you and expose your beautiful flesh to his eyes. He’s gonna watch as I kiss, lick, suck and bite all over your skin. He’s gonna watch and hear as I make you moan, whimper and scream. He’s gonna watch as I fuck you hard, my wife. Claiming your body and soul as mine, and mine only.”

Fuck.

You were all in.

Bucky circled his arms around your waist and brought you closer to his firm chest. Very delicately, he started leaving kisses on your exposed shoulder, making you purr in delight. His feather-light kisses made goosebumps erupt on your skin. You craned your neck to the side, giving his lips more space to continue their journey further up. A loud moan of satisfaction escaped you as he became rougher with it—licking and sucking on your tender sweet spot.

In a swift motion, he removed your little dress—leaving you in your pretty underwear. His hands started roaming all over your exposed body, paying close attention to all your curves with his fingers—hips, waist and breasts—especially your breasts. He palmed them in his grasp and pinched your nipple through the material of your bra, making you wince out at the slight pain.

While one of his hands palmed your breast, the other ran down your stomach and found its way into your panties, making you gasp once his expert fingers found your aching core. He ran his fingers through your slick folds, groaning deeply in your ear, making the hairs at the back of your neck stand.

“Fuck, baby, already so wet and messy for me, huh? Did that turn you on, princess? My little speech about fucking you and claiming you as mine while he watches all helpless?”

“U-uh, huh.”

You were revelling in the pleasure your twisted and loving husband provided you that there was no way to form any coherent words, let alone sentences. It made Bucky chuckle in a sinister way at how absolute speechless he could make you with such simple touches.

Then it all stopped—his touches and kisses. You whined out in protest and were starting to turn around to see what was going on, but he stopped you by grabbing your upper arms and turning you towards Roman again.

“Stay still, baby.”

Thankfully, his delicate touches returned to your skin. His fingers ran from your shoulder and down until they met the clasp of your bra—unclasping it with no difficulty. The bra straps ran down your arms and hit the floor with a soft thud. Your breasts fully exposed to the two men.

With Bucky’s hands caressing your waist, he descended to the floor behind you. His fingers hooked into your panties and pulled them down your legs. Now, you were fully exposed; your parts that Bucky was so protective and possessive over came to light.

He left a wet kiss on each of your ass cheeks before travelling the kisses upward your naked back—until he stood straight up and wrapped his hand around your throat again, making you yelp and pay full attention to the man tied to the chair. Bucky spoke loud again for him to hear as well.

“This here is all mine. My body—my tits, my ass, my pussy,” he groped your wet and naked core, making you gasp out, “Only I will get to touch and take all of her as I please. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

“I-it’s yours, B-Bucky, I-I belong to y-you.”

He turned you around and pulled your naked body flush into his clothed one. His hand grasped the back of your neck and brought your lips to his—hungrily kissing you, tongues caressing one another as you moaned and groaned into the heated and needy kiss. His other hand took hold of your ass cheek—altering between squeezing hard and delivering slaps to the plump flesh, which made you whimper into his mouth each time he did.

While still keeping your lips connected, Bucky manoeuvred you to the foot of the bed and removed his jacket while you helped with unbuttoning his white shirt—tearing it off his muscular body.

You roamed your hands all over his hard chest and stomach, moaning as you felt every curve and dip of his delicious muscles. While you touched him, Bucky went to work on getting his pants off.

“Let me.”

You descended to your knees, finding a comfortable place on the marble floor, and helped him tug his pants and underwear down. A satisfied gasp slips from your mouth as his hard cock springs to life—slapping against his belly.

“This cock belongs to me, doesn't it, daddy?” You mutter as you take a firm grasp on his base, and kitten lick his tip while looking up at him.

Bucky chuckled at your possessive nature, licking his lips. You could be just as possessive over Bucky as he was over you, and he loved it. He belonged to you as much as you belonged to him.

“You know it does, baby,” his hand cradled your face, “all of me belongs to you, body and soul.”

You pushed him down to sit on the foot of the bed, his hands on the mattress keeping his weight up. His eyes were fixated on your kneeling form as you nestled between his spread legs. The palm of your hands caressed his thighs up and down as you stared at his entire cock—your mouth watering at how delicious it looked.

“I’m so hungry for your cock, daddy.”

“Yeah? You gonna show him what a little cock-whore you are, baby?”

“Yes,” a glob of your spit fell on him, making him groan as your hand jerked him and spread the saliva all over his length, “I’m a little cock-whore that wants your cock in my mouth.”

He twitched at your lewd words.

“Take all of me then.”

With his hand at the back of your head, he guided and encouraged you to take him whole. With no hesitation, you engulfed his length immediately—too cock-hungry to tease and toy with him until he begged for you. You desperately needed his length deep in your throat.

You gagged around him as he tickled the back of your throat. The vibrations made him shudder where he sat. With each hand cradling your face, he forced your head up and down on him, thrusting his hips upwards to meet your moves.

Tears pooled in your eyes, and saliva dribbled out of your mouth as he forced his way down your throat. It was so messy and erotic—sloppy sounds filled the room.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as he concentrated on how your warm and wet mouth felt on his throbbing cock. Guttural groans rumbled in his throat.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well, baby.”

He removed you from him, which made you whine in protest—missing the feel of him choking you with it. Your hand wrapped around him and jerked his length in long strokes as you presented your tongue—showing him how absolute needy you were for his cock shoved deep in your cavity.

With his fingers holding your jaw, he leaned down till he was level with your face and gifted you a glob of his spit on your awaiting tongue. “Fucking whore, you know that?” You nod your head. The degrading action and words had your pussy flutter. You rolled your tongue into your mouth and leaned down to retake him, bobbing your head while Bucky supported his weight on his hands, allowing you to take control of his cock as he sat and enjoyed the lewd performance.

“I bet you’re fucking jealous now.” Bucky sneered at Roman as the corner of his mouth turned up in a sinister smirk.

Your hand accompanied your mouth—stroking his base while your mouth paid attention to his sensitive head—finding a perfect rhythm to bring Bucky over the edge. The other hand cupped his balls to fondle them.

“Look at me….”

You peered up at him through your thick lashes while you had your mouth and hands full of his cock and balls. Drool and tears covering all of you.

“...fucking shit, doll, you’re gonna make me come.” A few seconds later, he grunted as he reached his climax. His hand gripping your shoulder hard to brace himself.

Watching his face contour in pure pleasure, moaning, groaning and grunting while his thick load shoots down your throat must be one of the most pornographic scenes you’d ever witnessed. Your pussy fluttered at the sight and vocalisation of him—slickness running down your inner thighs.

Holy fucking shit.

You worked him thoroughly through his intense orgasm to make him feel as good as possible. Not letting a single drop of him go to waste—all of it trickled down your throat.

Once he had come down from his high, you pulled him out from your mouth, making his head leave with a pop. Bucky hisses as his sensitive cock is freed from your expert hold.

You were a mess—drool covering your face, hands and tits, but to Bucky, it was the most stunning you’d ever looked.

“Oh, baby. So beautiful and messy for me.”

With his hand holding your throat, he leaned down to give you a sloppy kiss which you whimpered into.

“Get on the bed.”

All giddy, you switched places with him. Your elbows supported your weight as you spread your legs for him, showing him your glistening and needy pussy.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

“Are you gonna fuck me, daddy?”

Bucky tugged your legs, pulling you further towards him—till your ass was right by the edge of your bed.

“Not yet, babydoll. I need to taste that pussy first.”

He finds a comfortable place on his knees between your spread legs so he can go to work in worshipping all of you, like the Goddess you are. His face is inches from where you so desperately need him, feeling his breath on you, making your pussy ache for him. You arch into his face, your hand running over his short hair, begging for him to taste you, touch you, do anything to you. To eat you out until he shatters your existence.

“Please, Bucky,” you pathetically plead.

“You want it, baby?”

The tip of his tongue flickers your nub. That simple touch has your whole body convulse on the bed and a soft whimper escaping you.

God, you were so needy.

“P-please.”

“I’ll make you feel so fucking good, princess,” he laid a simple kiss on your wet folds, making you convulse once more, “but first, I need to clean up this mess you’ve made, baby.” He was referring to the slickness that had spilt from you, running down your inner thighs.

While his hands caressed the side of your waist, making delicious tingles erupt on your skin, he went to work on cleaning you up with his tongue—licking up the mess you’ve made, moaning at your taste. “Your taste is outstanding, baby.” Your whimper in pain and pleasure as he nips the skin of your inner thigh with his teeth—his tongue soothing the sting after.

“You have the prettiest pussy; you know that, baby? I’m so lucky that I’m the only man who will ever get to see it, to taste it,” he licks your outer lips, which has you arch into him for more, “and to fuck this needy little cunt.”

Finally, he places his mouth where you desperately need it to be. He drags his broad tongue through your folds and flicks the tip of it on your clit. The action has you arch your back, and your eyes flutter shut.

“O-oh…”

A glob of his saliva hits your clit, trickling down your folds. He groans as he watches his mess mix with your own—making your pussy look like the most delicious five-star meal he’s ever seen.

“Look at him, baby. Look at him while I eat your pussy.”

You turned your head to look at the man bound in his chair. It’s fucked up to admit it, but it turned you on to have Bucky between your thighs while a beaten-down man watched. You could see him shaking in his chair, shock overloading his system while his bloodied face pleaded for mercy—for his hurt and misery to end.

Fuck, this was hot.

You moaned loudly as Bucky went to work on devouring your pussy like a starved man that hasn’t had a decent meal in forever. He drags his tongue through your slit multiple times to get all of your flavours. His groan against your pussy at the taste has you quiver on the mattress and a loud cry emitting from you.

He lewdly spits on your pussy to claim ownership over it before his lips wrap around your raw nub—altering between sucking and licking the sensitive nerve. You try to keep your focus on Roman, but your eyes flutter at the pleasure, your mind and vision becoming blurry.

Two fingers penetrate your velvet walls, stretching you out and reaching knuckle deep, making you wail out. Their tips brush against the spot that has you absolutely lose it, making you writhe on the bed. The other works your breast—palming the supple flesh in his grasp, pinching and pulling on your sensitive nipple. You're nothing but cries of pleasure—moaning, groaning and whimpering as Bucky works you to perfection.

You feel kind of embarrassed at how noisy and pathetic you sound, so you bite your bottom lip hard to try and keep yourself down. Bucky didn’t like that at all.

“No, no,” he releases your clit from his hold, “let him hear. Let him hear all your pretty noises, baby.”

He quickly returned his assaults on your swollen clit that throbbed in need. His fingers moved in and out of you at an expert pace, and his other hand worked your breast.

Upon his wishes, you let your cries of satisfaction flow freely—filling up the bedroom. Your breathing hitched in your throat as the buildup was nearing its breaking point, so close to shattering your whole existence—body and soul.

Both your hands are placed at the back of his head, keeping him there so that he cannot move away and deny you your pleasure under no circumstances. Your hips rock into his vicious mouth as you chase your orgasm—it’s right there, so close.

“Bucky,” you cry as you come hard, your toes curling and your whole body convulsing on the bed. You try keeping your gaze on Roman as the coil in your stomach snaps, but your eyes cross. The surge of intense pleasure on your mind and body is almost indescribable—you’ve never come so hard in your entire life. As stars blur your vision, you feel like you're floating on a cloud.

Bucky groans as he works through your orgasm, your clit throbbing in his mouth and your tight walls fluttering around his digits. He’s in awe as he watches you fall apart like you’ve never done before, and he doesn't stop pleasuring you until you are all but satisfied.

You sob from sensitivity as his mouth and fingers leave your used and abused pussy. You’re a panting and heaving mess as you try and come back to your senses.

“You have no idea how sexy and breathtaking you are when you come like that, baby,” he says before kissing your mound, making you twitch. He proceeds with his kisses up your stomach and gives each of your nipples a lick; each touch has you spasm on the bed at how overly sensitive your whole body feels. He comes to face you—gently laying a kiss on your lips so you can taste yourself.

“I really fucked you up, didn’t I? I’m the only one that can make you come like that, huh?”

All you can do is nod while babbling unfinished words as you still haven’t recovered from your high.

Bucky chuckled at your distant and fucked out state.

“I’ll fuck you up some more, doll. He’s gonna watch as I absolutely wreck you.”

He pulls you further up the bed until you’re both in the middle of it.

With his hard cock in hand, he taps the head on your swollen clit, making you twitch and sob; a weak no falls from your lips as you place your hand on his hip to try and push him off.

You can’t. You’re so overly sensitive that it hurts. You can’t take anymore. But Bucky didn’t seem to give a fuck. He wasn’t done with you.

“I-I c-can’t.”

“Yes, you can, baby.” He speaks through gritted teeth.

He takes your hand off him and pins it down on the mattress.

Again he taps your clit, pulling out the same reaction from you as before. He glides his leaking tip through your wet folds. Gradually, his cock gliding on your tingling nub feels fucking incredible, and you’re ready for him to wreck you with his length.

“Please, daddy, fuck me.”

He groaned out at your neediness for him and lined his tip with your quivering entrance. Slowly, inch by inch, he penetrates your tight velvet walls with his cock, making you whimper at the slight ache. His hands grasp the back of your thighs as he forces his way inside you, guttural groans rumbling in his throat as your warm and tight walls engulf him. The last bit of him he forcefully pushes inside you, slamming into your pelvis, making you sob a cry, and your eyes roll back—showing white. The feeling of fullness has you blabbering pleas for him to destroy and fuck you senseless.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

His voice is so deep and husky, making your walls flutter around his length, pulling out a heavy moan from him.

“I’ll fuck you so good, doll.”

He pulls out and then forces himself hard into you again, making you jolt and cry on the mattress. He does it a few times, being rough and abusive with it, before he starts fucking your tightness in deep and powerful strokes, slapping his skin against yours.

He hoists your legs on his shoulder, pinning them against his front, as he thrusts into you, his tip brushing your sweet spot each time he reaches deep inside you. You’re nothing but a moaning, whimpering mess as you take it all. Your hands grip the sheets to brace yourself, your eyes cross as he fucks you into oblivion, and your breasts bounce with each abusive thrust he delivers.

“My pussy. Mine, mine, mine, mine,” he grunts between each hard thrust, watching his length disappear through your walls.

There's nothing on your brain other than his cock—nothing but earth-shattering pleasure that it's giving.

You convey that you want him closer with grabby hands as you’re entirely speechless with how he’s fucking you.

Answering your pleas, he drops your legs on each side before lowering his body till his naked chest meets yours, holding his weight up so he won’t completely crush your sensitive body. His forehead rests on yours as his warm breath hits your face.

“So needy for my cock, huh? So needy for all of me?”

You can only let out a sound of approval.

“Good fucking girl.”

With the rolls of his hips, he manages to reach even deeper inside you, making you wail in pleasure. You wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, clinging to him with your weak strength. The buildup was fast due to your last orgasm, and you were ready to explode with pleasure once more.

“I-I-I’m go….”

You couldn't even form a coherent sentence, making Bucky chuckle at how good he was fucking your brains.

“You gonna come, baby?”

“U-uh, huh.”

“Look at him, baby,” with his fingers on your jaw; he turned your head to look at Roman, “look at him as you cream and make a mess all over my cock, you fucking whore. Look at him while I stuff your little cunt.”

You try to keep your focus on him, but it was near impossible with the way Bucky was fucking you, clouding your every sense.

A few more brutal thrusts, and you come hard, toes curling, almost blacking out at the intensity. Silent noises escape your open mouth, and your eyes roll as you explode around his cock—your walls viciously pulsating around his length and making a mess all over him. Tears streamed down your face as it became too much, too hard, but you wanted more; you wanted his cum to fill you so badly, so you pulled him in tighter with your weak legs, wanting him to spill his warm seed inside you.

With a heavy grunt, he spurts ropes after ropes of his cum inside you, decorating your walls. His hips snapped rapidly against you as he filled you up to the brim, emptying himself entirely and not stopping until you were both fucked out and satisfied.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl taking all of me.”

He stilled inside once he was done, making a breath of relief and satisfaction escape you, and a deep groan came from him at the aftershocks. He peppers kisses on your clammy neck and collarbone, whispering sweet praises and affirmation after being so dominant and rough with you. You hold him close, nuzzling your face into his short hair as you hum and sigh in contentment at being stuffed full of his cum.

A whimper falls from you as his body leaves yours, leaving you cold, followed by a sob as his cock leaves your used and abused hole, leaving you unfulfilled.

“Look at that, baby,” Bucky was fascinated with his cum trickling out of your quivering hole, ”such a pretty sight.” He collected all of the cum with his tip and pushed himself hard into you again, making you squeal. After giving you a few more strokes, he pulled out, making the cum flow out once more. He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek, followed by some words that made your breath hitch.

“Stay still, baby. I need to show him.”

He what?

You were still and spread out like he requested, your body too sensitive and sore to move anyways. With hooded eyes, you watch Bucky’s naked behind as he walks away from you and over to the man bound tight in the corner.

Bucky removes the gag from Roman’s mouth, and you can hear him coughing blood and saliva as his voice is freed. He tries to say something, but it comes out as a gurgling sound.

“Did you really fucking think I would let you go unpunished from my club, you fucking filth?”

Bucky’s fist connects with Roman’s bloodied and bruised face—the noise of skin punching skin and the crackling of Roman’s teeth at the force of it is the most uncomfortable sound you’ve ever heard. You shut your eyes tight as Bucky hits him again, and then a last time.

“Did you really fucking think I would let you speak about my wife like that without me having your head for it?”

You still didn’t know what Roman had said to Bucky in the club, but it was obviously triggering. So Bucky had gone to this extent in showing him, and others for that matter, what happens when someone spoke about his possessions.

Bucky removed his restraints and pulled Roman by his hair over to you on the bed—propping him up so he rested on his knees, his bruised face close to your pussy.

You were lost for words at what was happening, at what Bucky was doing. You just closed your eyes tight and hoped that whatever was going to happen would be over soon.

“Look at that, huh. Look at it. Isn’t it so fucking beautiful?”

Bucky was referring to his cum seeping out of your quivering hole—making a beautiful mess.

Roman looked with hooded eyes and tried to say something, but his words came out strained and unclear.

“Fucking LOOK AT IT!”

Bucky yelled in his face. It startled you and made tears roll down your cheek. This feels so degrading… but my God, also so fucking hot at the same time—to have someone being forced to look at your most intimate part that’s just been used and abused and stuffed full of cum.

Roman looks with wide eyes now, well, one at least; the other one is too bruised to open fully. He makes a painful noise as Bucky pulls his head up by his hair.

“This is mine. My pussy,” Bucky spreads your lips, “this is my girl, my fucking wife, and that’s my fucking cum that’s claimed her. You will never ever get to touch her. Touch what rightfully belongs to me. How dare you come into my club and use your filthy disgusting words on my wife, especially after betraying me like that, you worthless piece of shit.”

Bucky tosses him to the ground, his body hitting the hard floor in a loud thud while he groans in pain.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky spat at him.

Bucky retrieves his phone from his jacket, and you hear his thumbs moving across the keyboard—typing a message. You’re unsure what’s happening and too tired and slightly traumatised to ask questions.

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on the bedroom door, and Bucky stands with his back, all tall and broad, to you, blocking your body so whoever is on the other end can’t see you fully exposed. Bucky doesn’t care about his own nudity in the slightest.

Whoever entered the room didn’t say anything, but you could hear them come closer and stop by Roman, waiting for Bucky to give them instructions.

“Dispose of him,” Bucky utters in a deep and sinister voice.

“Yes, Sir.”

You hear Roman getting pulled away, never to be seen again, and then a door closes, leaving only you and Bucky in your bedroom.

“Baby.”

His sweet and caring voice was back; his protective and warm touches were back—your loving husband. He cleans you off with his shirt and then cradles your body, making you sit on his lap as he wraps his tender, soft arms around your frame. You nuzzle your face into his sweaty neck, a tired sigh leaving you as his fingers run delicately on your clammy skin, soothing your aching flesh and lulling you to sleep.

“Are you ok, doll?” He takes your tired face in his hands, making you look at his concerned one, searching yours for any sign of stress or discomfort. “Was that too much? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, doll, you had to see that, to hear that. That I had to put you through that.”

You honestly didn’t know what to say at what just unfolded—too tired and sore to process the whole event properly, but you were ok, for now. You were just happy to finally have your husband to yourself after such a pleasurable and vicious evening. All you wanted now was to fall asleep in his protective embrace.

All worries and questions about tonight could wait until the morning.

“I-I’m o-ok, James, just tired,” you yawn.

“Oh, baby…”

He scoots you up the bed—until you both rest your heads on the fluffy pillows, facing each other.

“... come here.”

You make yourself small and vulnerable as you nuzzle and cling to the embrace of your vicious lover and protector—his arms and legs holding you close. A content sigh breathes through you as your head tucks into his chest; listening to the calming beats of his heart—this was your home, where you wanted to be forever; despite Bucky’s brutal nature at times, you never ever wanted to leave his side.

Bucky’s murderous hands treat your skin like it's the most delicate thing in the world—softly stroking your back, making you shudder and purr in delight. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered against your hair, followed by a hum of a pleasant tune that slowly lulls you to sleep.

The last thing you hear are words that solidify your love and trust for your husband.

“You’re mine, mine only, my everything, and I love you beyond words, my sweet love….”

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girls who learned all their vocab from books and are now constantly embarrassing themselves by pronouncing words slightly wrong in conversation