*Sees The Limo* Me: Nice. *Sees Jake* Me: Nice. Also Me: Someone’s Gonna Write Fanfic Involving Jake

Salvatore Masterlist

pairing: mob!jake lockley x oc!fem

summary: the past can only define you if you let it.

warnings: slow burn, cursing, mentions of violence, future smut, mentions of dr*gs 18+ ONLY

tagging: @lex-the-flex

Salvatore

Just Friends

Besame Mucho

Francis Forever

So Tired

Hope is a dangerous thing

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Deserve

Summary: Marc never stays with you after he fucks you. You are better left in the hands of Steven. This time, he doesn't leave you.

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (implied Steven Grant x Reader)

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: smut, some references to rough sex, angst (with a happy ending) - don't let me fool you this is just touch starved marc struggling with being loved

A/N: im fine im just really out here with nothing else to do but think about moon knight

Marc was an intense person. 

He was like the patter of rain against the roof, against an open window pane. He was like the shock and flash of lightning during a storm. 

The grim set of his mouth and shoulders, the unending weight of the world that made his brows dip into that hard line. Marc felt more than he let on, was affected by things people said and did, let the blows rain like ash against his skin and said nothing. 

You had learned long ago that Marc did not welcome comfort, that he felt it was something he did not deserve to receive. Soft, shaded mornings were for his alter. Everything squishy and warm, hazed in the breathy glow of a sunrise, was for you and Steven, not him. 

Maybe it wasn’t that Marc didn’t welcome comfort. 

He craved it, wanted it, longed for it. 

And he should not long for it, want it, crave it. 

He’d told you as much, over and over, the weight of your gentle hands against his skin like burning embers. 

He wanted it. He so badly wanted to sink into that flame, but he was worried it would burn him alive, melt him down into something unrecognizable. 

It was only when something went particularly badly that he allowed some comfort. 

He loves you, this you know. 

You see it in the heaviness of his stare, in the intensity of his worry, in the way he hugged you, held your hand, worried after you like you had not survived for years on your own. 

But if you ever dared to hold his hand, hug him, drag your fingers down the length of his spine, it was too much for him. These were things he could offer you, but that you should not give him in return. These were not things he deserved, these were things better reserved to his alter, who was deserving of everything he was not. 

Marc is intense.

He’s hard and wild and something close to broken some days, when reality drifts in and out of focus, when the world is best left in the hands of Steven.

There’s always a beating heart of anxiety behind everything he does, that this time he will not be enough, that this time he will not be fast enough, that this time the universe would get the last laugh again.

So when Marc fucks you, he is intense, he is like the weight of the all consuming world poured out. Salt water in wounds. 

You don’t mind. 

The times he’s gentle with you, you get the sense that he’s mourning, like the act is grief, something lost that he’s stealing back from the gods. Something that is temporary and definitely not for him. 

This night, he had come to you like the storm he bred inside him, the hatred of self and fear of a future he could not control, of a tentative reality of things only he could see. 

Marc was rough with you.

His fingers in your mouth, his hand hard against your cunt, against your ass. He had buried himself inside you, set a punishing pace. When his mouth was on yours, his kiss had been more like an effort to consume you. When his hand wrapped around your throat, his eyes had snapped to the mirror, and you had known Steven had been cautioning him, that you were in fact breakable, no matter what you said, that he should be careful of you. 

But you’d covered his hand with your own and tightened his fingers, eyes fluttering closed as you lost yourself in whatever bit of himself he would give you. 

~

A last stuttering breath passes your lips, eyes screwed closed, pleasure lighting up the insides of your veins, molten, like a river of fire that never ends. 

You clutch the sheets beneath your fingers and turn your face into a pillow as the last waves of your orgasam shutter through you. You bite off the moan that bubbles to the back of your throat when you feel Marc shift inside you, so full it's almost painful. 

Your thighs tremble, the insistent pressure of Marc’s hand against the back of your neck keeping you in place. His other hand kneads the flesh of your hip, and you know a bruise has already formed there. 

Marc pulls back, and thrusts into you one last time, a pleasant satisfied ache beginning between your legs. 

The firm fingers at your waist finally let you drop your hips to the mattress. 

You feel weightless and warm, content, like you’re floating through a cloud. Marc presses a kiss to the space between your shoulder blades, before the heavy bulk of his body surrounds yours. 

Disappointment darts through you in a brief little flash, because this is Marc’s parting gift to you always. 

The kiss between your shoulders, the all consuming fire of the warmth of him against you, before he hands the reigns to Steven. 

Marc never stays with you, after. The kiss against your spine is all you get from him. Whether because he can’t be bothered with taking care of you or because he feels he doesn’t deserve to, you aren’t sure. 

Steven is always there though, to kiss you back to life, to smile at you, make love to you so slowly and sweetly it was like a dream you never wanted to wake up from.  

His fingers slide up your arms, massaging as he goes, until he reaches your clenched hands, gently uncurling them from the fabric of the sheets until he can twist his fingers with yours. 

You feel him squeeze carefully, his nose dipping to the crook of your neck. 

A stillness falls over you both, silence, peace, creating a warm little bubble. 

You don’t mind his weight against you, it settles the frantic beating of your heart, drenches you in warmth. 

Normally, Steven would say something to you when he fronted, a kiss against your cheek and a softly spoken hello, love. 

Today, he’s silent, arms tight and grounding around you. 

But it's Steven, you know it must be. 

Because Marc never stays. 

You turn your head, nuzzling your nose against his arm, feeling his damp skin against your cheek. You want to open your eyes, reach up and touch the little black curl of hair you know must be stuck to his forehead at that moment. 

You’re content to stay like that with him, content to feel the gentle drift of his nose along the curve of your jaw. So you keep your eyes closed and let your mushy, sex-addled brain drift, as lips press along your jaw, behind the curve of your ear. 

And you’re happy to stay in the gentle warmth being offered to you, the glow of being loved so well.

But then, he does something inexplicable. 

Steven pulls away from you. 

He gets up. 

And he leaves. 

An empty feeling that you don’t like crawls up from the pit of your belly. A feeling that’s suspiciously like abandonment, that you know is not grounded in reality. 

Steven never left the bed, not without saying something to you first, not before checking in with you to ask what you needed or wanted. Especially not when Marc had been so rough with you. 

It was a routine that was being broken, a sacred step you didn’t know needed spoken out loud. 

You swallow thickly, peeling your eyes open. 

You don’t like the dirty, used feeling that’s overwhelming you, like you did not matter. 

Pushing yourself up is a monumental task, the ache of your bones like the grinding of cinder blocks against your flesh. You glance over your shoulder at the door. 

Then there’s a clatter from the bathroom and the door swings open, Steven emerging in only a pair of briefs. He still doesn’t say anything as he approaches and encourages you with gentle hands to roll over, the brief warmth of a washcloth between your legs. 

Which is odd. 

Because Steven would normally lie with you and talk with you, until you were coherent again, until you were secure enough for him to move away without feeling the sting of abandonment. 

Steven also talked almost non-stop to you, never without something to say. 

Normally,  you would throw on a shirt and play cards in bed, watch something on your laptop. Sometimes, Steven would just hold you and talk. Sometimes, he would make love to you again. 

But none of that happened until you were ready. 

Steven still doesn’t speak to you as he climbs back into bed, handing you Marc’s discarded shirt, which he gingerly helps you sit up and slip on.  

Steven’s head twitches toward the mirror, and you watch him watch his reflection for a moment. You frown, wondering what Marc could be saying to him. Marc, who always and without fail disappeared and walled himself off from both of you. 

And then it dawns on you. 

In your post-orgasm haze, and without the sound of his voice, you hadn’t noticed the signs that this was very clearly Marc still fronting, not Steven. 

Marc never stayed with you, never. 

Your throat is tight when he doesn’t say anything, his head is still swiveled toward the mirror, brows drawing tighter together with each passing minute. 

“Hey,” you clear your throat, “c’mere.” 

You snuggle down and hold out your arms. 

You half expect him to huff out an exasperated breath and lay back but avoid your touch. 

But he doesn’t. 

He curls into your arms, nudging his nose into the hollow at the base of your throat. He cradles you close, inhaling gently. 

But to your utter surprise, he lets you smooth your hands over his shoulders, through his unruly curls. The motion of it soothes you, comforts you. 

You glance toward the mirror and wish that you could see Steven there too, so you could ask what was going on in Marc’s head, why he was pretending to be Steven. 

“You okay?” You say as he lets you run a hand down his face, over the ridge of scar above his brow. 

It takes Marc a long time to respond, buried in your skin as he is, breathing you in, tracing rough hands along your hips and over your thighs, massaging where he knows you must be sore. 

You kiss the top of his head, blearily giving him all the love he was usually too prickly to receive.

He nods against you, so you slip hands down his back, over his hair. You aren’t sure why he’s pretending, but you find you don’t mind. It’s the kind of love you always want to shower Marc with but that he rarely allows. 

You want to ask him why, why he didn’t let Steven front. But you worry he might think you’re asking to see Steven, that you don’t want him there with you. 

Emotionally, Marc was a fortress, impenetrable and soldily quiet. Things simmered down in his gut, pushed away and down down down, until they overwhelmed him, until they burst to the surface in a violent torrent. 

Most often, it was when someone he loved was in danger, when the past became something he could no longer stare down, when the things he avoided were impossible to ignore.

And you’re terribly afraid that if you say anything now, he’ll clam up, shut down, pull away from you, leave the flat and take your heart with him. 

Gently, you slide down, until you’re eyelevel with him, one hand against his neck, thumb tracing the line of his jaw carefully. 

You feel Marc’s hands go to the small of your back, big hands gingerly tugging you closer, until your nose is touching his, until you share the same air. 

And you can hardly believe that the man who had smacked your pussy, held you down and fucked you until you felt like you couldn’t breathe, whispered filthy things in your ear that you can hardly remember, that your brain fuzzes out when you think about too much - is now holding you so gently you may as well be made of delicate glass, is now allowing you to stroke your hands through his hair, pet his broad shoulders. His eyes are closed, trust you didn’t think Marc possessed pouring over you in waves. 

You know why. 

You know why he’s doing this. 

Marc would rather accept love in the guise of his alter than ever believe he was worthy of it himself. 

You think about the hatred that lives inside Marc, about the self-hatred that loomed always at the back of his mind. The hatred that ran so deep, that he felt so potently, that even his alter had thought the worst of him at first. 

Killer, mercenary, cold-blooded. 

Things that Marc accepted into the folds of who he was without question. 

Marc never let you hold him like this, and so you do so for as long as you can bear, tilting your chin into his so you can kiss him softly, feeling the slow drift of his hands down your sides to the curve of your ass, over the bruised skin of your hips and thighs. He hooks his fingers behind your knee and tugs your leg over his hip. 

You finger a curl at the back of his neck, the glow of brown skin molten in the low light of the flat. 

You swallow and hope that you don’t drive him away, but you can’t stand it any longer - his thinking that this is softness you would only grace Steven with. 

“Marc,” you whisper. “I know it's you.” 

Even the way they hold you is different. Of course, you can always tell. You did not need their voices to tell you who was fronting. 

Marc’s eyes flash open and you’re surprised to see fear there. 

You hold fast to him, though he doesn’t try to pull away. You raise a questioning brow and resume your gentle ministrations, trying to show him without words that you did not treat him carefully because you thought he was Steven. 

“How’d you know?”

You shake your head and press your thumb against the center of his chin, “I can always tell. It’s not something you can really hide.”

He tries to tug his face away from your hand but you don’t let him, stubbornly making him look into your eyes. 

“Baby,” you say, “You know that you are just as deserving-,”

“Don’t,” he says sharply. “Don’t do that.”

“But you are, Marc. I always want to do this but you always leave me,” you stoke a hand through his hair. “I know Steven has talked to you about it, too. Told you that you don’t have to go.”

Marc is stiff against you and you consider for a moment letting him go. 

But you don’t. 

You hold on, and murmur, “It’s okay to want this. It’s okay.” You keep feathering your hand through his hair, your touch as gentle as you can make it. “I love you, you know.” You touch the gold chain around his neck and finally glance away from his eyes, staring at the hollow of his throat instead as you say, “You don’t always have to have your walls up. I’m not - I won’t -,” you stop and consider your next words. “I love you exactly as you are.” 

There’s a long moment of silence after that, one in which your heart beats painfully fast and you wait for Marc to push you away. 

But it doesn’t come, his body slowly relaxes against yours again, your fingers continuing their careful press against his skin. 

His head tips toward the mirror on the wall, and he nods after a few long minutes, carefully plucking up one of your hands, to kiss each of your fingers, the flat of your palm, and then to curl them closed again, hold your hand against his chest. 

You can feel the steady thrum of his heart, and Marc doesn’t look at you when he says. “I want it too.” 

You wait a moment but he doesn’t say more. 

“I’m happy to give it to you, Marc.” 

“You - you give too much as it is.” He pauses for a long moment, before pushing you onto your back, hovering over you, his eyes darting over your face. 

And you’re amazed, wondering, at the love struck expression he wears, like you were the pinnacle of a universe that barely made sense, that was barely held together. 

“Steven deserves this,” he nods down at you. “He’s never-,” 

You hear the unspoken words - that is why Steven was born after all, to be all the things Marc thought he wasn’t, to shield himself. 

“Stop it. Marc, you are not your past. You are not bad. You carry around the weight of the world and these sins you think are yours alone. They aren’t.” You tip your head up to nudge your nose against his, Marc’s hands pinning both of yours to the space beside your shoulders. 

Marc is looking at you in that intense way of his, brows furrowed, mouth tilted in that overly-serious line. 

“And what if I don’t think I deserve it, huh? To get you like this?” 

“Don’t listen to you, then. Listen to me.” You hitch your knees up to frame his hips, holding him against you, levering pressure into the backs of his thighs until he drops down fully against you. “You deserve it. More than most.”

You know everything he’s ever done is flashing through his mind. His brother’s death and his mother’s wrath. His time as a mercenary, his time in the military. The way he thinks he breaks and folds and isn’t strong enough, never strong enough, not enough. The mistake of Khonshu. The way he thinks he failed Layla and Steven, and that he will do it all over again. 

“Hey,” you nudge his jaw again. “Quit that.” 

Marc nods slowly, intense stare pinning you down. “I deserve it.” He says it like he expects you to disagree with him, to laugh. 

“Yes,” you breathe. “I’ll remind you of that.” He releases your wrists, burying his nose in your neck, the breath he sucks in is shaky and wild, the drum beat of a storm he stored inside the stoic stone that surrounded his heart. 

You cup a hand against the back of his neck, your other hand sliding down his side, tracing the violent scars that dot his ribs. Carefully, you slide his boxers down his thighs. Your touch is soft against him, your body already welcoming to him, and he slides into you with a quiet groan. 

It’s not like making love with Steven, who was sillier and goofier than Marc would ever be. 

It’s different to how Marc normally fucks you, when the mood strikes him to give it to you slow. 

This time, it's sweet, it's like the smoky burn of incense, like the homecoming he’d been waiting for for years. Marc kisses you softly, groans into your mouth when he was normally quiet aside to talk to you, demand things from you. 

You tighten your legs around him, encourage him to move slower, push deeper. 

“Fuck,” he whispers against the delicate skin of your neck. 

Sweat beads on his forehead, the glow of him against you like the sun. When you push the curls back from his forehead to look into his eyes, you catch something vulnerable in your heart, like the knife of everything Marc was storming into you. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs again. 

He ducks his head to kiss a path along your throat, where earlier his palm had circled the flesh. 

You drag your nails along his back, rub a hand through his hair, rock the cradle of your hips along with his. 

Marc reaches for one of your hands, kisses your fingers before guiding your hand to your cunt, “Sorry baby, I’m not gonna last. Need you to touch yourself for me.” 

You’re only a little bit shocked, but you tip his chin up to kiss him. Marc normally had a stamina that could win awards. 

Not now, it seemed. Not when you had given him permission to be slow and gentle and soft. 

Your breath is squeezed from your lungs, the heavy drag of him inside you almost enough to make you come. 

Marc doesn’t let you breathe, his mouth an insistent press against yours until you pull away with a gasp and you hear the sound of a quiet laugh against your throat, teeth digging into your jaw. 

You come unexpectedly, hips jerking up to meet him as Marc gives a harder thrust, looping an arm beneath one of your knees to open you up more, to slide that much deeper. 

The spot he hits within you makes your toes curl, makes it hard to catch a breath. 

“I can destroy you like this too, huh?” Marc asks, grinding against you, hips swirling as you groan from the breathless pleasure darting up your spine. 

“Don’t ruin this, Spector,” you huff, nipping at his jaw, only laughing a little. 

“Keep touching yourself. I didn’t say to stop,” he answers. 

Your eyes roll back when his tongue curls against the hollow of your throat. “I want you to come again,” his voice is a husky rasp in your ear.  

You’re still wearing Marc’s shirt, but when he releases your leg to palm your breasts through the fabric, you regret ever letting him partially dress you. 

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs, “You’re so tense. Come for me again, hm? Come for me.” When he pinches your nipple and rolls it between his fingers, you do. White hot pleasure courses up your spine, makes your mind go blank. “Fuck, are you coming?”

“Yes,” you moan, “I’m coming for you.” 

“For me,” he repeats. “For me.”

“Marc,” you whisper, pleasure making your vision go fuzzy, your exhausted body trembling. “Marc, I love you.” 

His hand goes to your ass, angles your hips, before he thrusts so deep you see stars and he spills inside you.

You make sure to wrap your arms around his head, tightening your grip until he wiggles. “Can’t breathe, baby.” But you don’t want him to go anywhere, you don’t want the idea to even occur to him. 

You loosen your grip but say, “Don’t leave.” 

Marc’s jaw tightens, “Sorry about that.” 

“S’ok. Just don’t go.” 

“Not going anywhere tonight, honey.” 

You nod, nuzzling your nose against his cheek when Marc takes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your fingers and wrist, your forearm, the crease of your elbow. 

“Stop that,” you grouse, a giggle at the tip of your tongue.

“I’m obsessed with you. I can’t.” 

You do laugh then, and he rolls you onto your side. He slips free from you and you feel the emptiness immediately, but then Marc is kissing you again, insistent and demanding, and it's forgotten. His fingers dance up the column of your spine, tracing the delicate vertebrae of bone with soft fingers. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he whispers. It's so rare to see him without that stoic facade, the burned in self-hatred, that your heart gives a painful thump. 

You kiss his sweaty brow and think to remind him of something. “You’re so good, Marc. You deserve good things. You deserve kindness.” 

He doesn’t answer and you know he’s fighting down that automatic response, so ingrained into him it was almost a part of his DNA. 

“I deserve it,” he murmurs eventually and you figure it's as close as you’ll get to agreement. 

Marc lets you hold him, and he doesn’t try to move once. 

The Surrogate Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Series Summary: Natasha, Clint and you have been inseparable since you joined Shield all those years ago. When Natasha mentions how much she wanted to be a mother you make it your mission to give her that opportunity. The hysterectomy in Widow training left her unable to carry a child but her ovaries remained. Using her egg, and a sperm donation from Clint, you carry the child and have to deal with all that comes with it - mostly a very protective mother. But, just because you are the surrogate for Natasha’s baby but that doesn’t mean you can’t find love for yourself. Canon timeline and deaths. Series Warnings: 18+ only, pregnancy, birth, infinity war, death, fluff, smut Word Count: 11k Status: COMPLETE Set after Civil War, just before Infinity War and after End Game.

Part One ꕥ ➴ Natasha and the team leave you behind in Wakanda for your safety so you have to find a way to pass the time, like visiting Steve's friend, Bucky.

Part Two ⁂ ꕥ ➴ Your regular visits to Bucky have you growing closer but you hold back from letting yourself feel anything more than friendship until a visit from Nat changes that.

Part Three ⁂ ➴ After months of peaceful living with Bucky he is called to arms as the fight with Thanos comes to Wakanda.

Part Four † ➴ Upon your return from the Blip you find out the true cost of the war and the sacrifices that were made to bring everyone back.

⁂ = smut † = death ⨮ =angst. ꕥ = fluff

Chris Dating a Muslim

Chris Evans x Reader

AN: As always, I like to add a disclaimer that I, indeed, am an ignorant American and do not mean to insult anyone or perpetuate stereotypes. I simply try to be inclusive and educate myself while doing so. Deepest apologies if I have offended anyone, though this time I've gotten research directly from a source thank you so much, anon.

Requested: Yes, but it has been a hot minute

For starters, Chris would be so respectful.

If you were Hijabi, he'd never once even think of seeing you without your hijab before being married and if anyone on the streets or in town even looked at you funny for it he'd absolutely shut it tf down

Giving them dirty looks and staring holes into them as they snickered at you from afar.

maybe even a harsh, "What're you fucking looking at"

He doesnt want to be rude, but the ignorance levels in America for anything and everything they don't understand is enough to send him over the edge and piss him off.

like come on, your looking at heads of lettuce and some rando is pointing and staring bc he can't see your hair-- go to hell

also, never ever pressuring you to do anything you are not ready/willing to do before marriage, he understands and respects you totally

though as soon as you're married, gloves are coming off. He'd be super sweet and gentle for a while, worshipping your body and letting you know how much he's been wanting to do this and slowly warm you up to him just totally taking over in bed

he'd try his damnedest to differentiate between halal and haram, but at first he gets them confused so bad that it's comical

He'd point to some sausage and look at you with furrowed brows as he slowly debated which term to try, "Hal-" he'd say slowly, gauging your reaction before shaking his head and trying again, "haram."

You'd give him a nod and a giggle, as he spoke to himself, "Right. Haram, bad. haram, bad..."

Oh oh oh, okay so as we know he loves his beer. However, I think this would bring him to feel weird about his intake, maybe even getting him to cut it out completely.

You'd talked before about how you don't drink alcohol but that does not mean he had to stop, but he didn't like drinking it in front of you on top of him saying how he needed to stop anyway, so badaboom, beer is gone.

There isn’t even one dude who can compete with this magnificent being that is Henry cavill in my eyes 

Look at this beauty

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….”

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

Oh this is going to be perfect

Wingman {1} || Retribution MC AU

Sam Wilson x Air Force!fem!reader

Summary: You and Joaquin served together, starting as his wingman, but the long overdue reunion doesn't go quite to plan. Warnings: 18+ only, reader PTSD, violence, blood, panic attack WC: 2.6k

Sam's Masterlist || Retribution MC Masterlist || Part 1 ||

It had been years since you last saw Torres, back when he was discharged from the Air Force, but you spotted your wingman the moment you stepped out of the terminal at JFK. His boyish smile stood out, as much as his leather kutte, among the business people strutting through the airport with determination. He also couldn’t help holding up a piece of cardboard with a picture of a fire drawn so badly it could have been a five year old’s artwork.

“Look at you, trading one uniform for the next.” You smirked as you dropped your bag to hug him.

“This is freedom baby, no uniform here.” He grinned, grabbing your back and chucking it over his shoulder before frowning. “Where’s the rest of your stuff?”

“I travel light.” You shrugged. “A few changes of clothes do me just fine.”

Joaquin seemed unconvinced but let it go and led the way out of the airport to a beautiful Harley that was parked illegally. “Still a daredevil?”

You grinned as you looked at the beast. “Hell yeah, you gotta promise to go fast.”

“You know me, I don’t do anything slow.”

“That’s not what that RIO, Chantelle, said, second tour wasn’t it?” You teased, earning a friendly punch to the shoulder.

“Please don’t mention that in front of my brothers, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He begged as he swung his leg over the bike and patted the leather seat behind him. “We have a party to get to.”

You could see the attraction to spending your days riding a motorbike, it equally gave you a sense of freedom but also a thrill knowing it was only the rider's skill that kept you upright through the hard and fast turns. You had served with Joaquin so you knew you could trust him with your life but it was one thing to say it and another to put it to the test. 

“Where’s this party?” You shouted over the throaty growl of the engine and the wind.

“Clubhouse.” He shouted back, chopping down a gear as he slowed down and turned into what could have been an old roadside tavern decades ago. “Welcome to Retribution.”

Joaquin kicked the stand out after parking next to a line up of bikes and grabbed your rucksack from the saddle bag before you could. Classic rock spilled out of the open doors and you were taken back to the days off you spent in the desert, cold beers, steaks on the bbq and a boombox playing cassette tapes that had been hoarded since the Fall of Saigon. 

“Hey, you okay?” Joaquin frowned as he saw you frozen beside his ride.

You were jolted back to the present by a hand on your shoulder and you tensed up to stop your reflex reaction of dropping the person who had touched you. “Sorry, must be the jetlag. So this is your new family?”

Your question did its job and distracted him from probing into your reaction as a bright smile lit up his face. “Yeah, most of the guys served too so it’s just like the old days.”

“Just slightly illegal.” You joked but his smile dropped and he sighed.

“It's easier to stomach than the legal shit we did over there…”

“Don’t remind me.” You muttered before doing what you do best and deflecting. “Is there a bar here or what? What kind of hospitality is this Wacky?”

He chuckled at his old callsign and nodded his head to the door with an affectionate wink. “Come on, you’ll need some hard liquor to deal with this lot.”

You were only halfway across the crowded space when a sharp slap burned across the back of your jeans. Almost as if there was a built in radar that detected fights, the entire crowd turned and the music cut off as you took a deep breath. Joaquin had dropped your bag on the closest table and narrowed his eyes at the man behind you, not knowing the mistake he had just made. 

“Take that shit elsewhere.” A man ordered as he stepped into the ring of space that had appeared around the offender, the flash on his chest reading Sergeant at Arms. “We treat women with respect ‘round here.”

“Thanks, boss.” You said as you turned to face the guy who stared at his red palm like it was the one who betrayed him. “But I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

“Blaze…” Joaquin stepped closer as he saw your fist clench but it was too late.

You smashed your fist into his face and felt the crunch of his septum breaking from the force before you raised your leg and kicked him square in the chest. The man stumbled backwards into a table and crashed it to the ground with a pained groan, Joaquin rushing in to catch you around the waist before you could get in for another shot.

“So this is Blaze, huh?” The Sergeant at Arms laughed as he held his hand out for you. “I’m Sam Wilson, welcome to our clubhouse.”

You couldn’t help grinning back and you broke Joaquin’s hold to shake his hand. “Y/n Y/l/n.”

“You know, ya boy here failed to mention the Blaze he spoke so highly of was a fine looking woman.”

“He’s been known to do that. Is that gonna be a problem, Wilson?” You cocked an eyebrow but his smile only grew and your stomach clenched at the sight.

“Hell naw, we love pretty ladies ‘round here.” A chorus of agreements echoed around the room before the music was restarted and Sam stepped in beside you, his body so close but not touching and the heat his lips warming your neck. “What are you drinking, sugar?”

His warm brown eyes caught the light and you spotted flecks of amber swirling around his irises, it was almost unfair that he had such pretty eyes and thick eyelashes surrounding them. He watched with fascination as you stared at him, your eyes seeming to search for his soul as he waited patiently for an answer. He didn’t mind, he was enjoying the view. 

“Something strong.” You finally answered before biting your lip. “Wacky’s watching isn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s totally planning on giving me a big brother speech as soon as I step away.”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you patted his hard, broad chest beneath the leather kutte. “Goodluck, he’s got this routine locked down.”

You slipped into the crowd and grabbed your bag from the table as Joaquin made a beeline towards Sam. You loved how protected he was over you, there was so much good in his heart that you let him have his moment and went to get a drink. 

“I’m not gonna hurt her.” Sam said before Joaquin even opened his mouth.

“Not intentionally.” 

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Sam crossed his arms, offended by the notion. 

“Blaze has been through some stuff alright, she’s…fragile.” 

Sam looked at the broken table where the man had been dragged out from and scoffed. “Doesn’t look that way to me.”

“That’s just her default defense mechanism, that’s Blaze - the hot headed soldier.” Joaquin tried to explain but he sighed as he couldn’t find the right words. 

“I get it bro.” Sam clapped him on the back and started making his way towards the bar. “We all put up a wall to survive over there.”

Joaquin watched Sam approach your bar stool and waited for the inevitable elbow to be thrown but you didn’t even flinch when he dropped his arm over your shoulder and reached over to grab a glass. You were so often trapped in that head of yours that if anyone startled you or snuck up behind you, you dropped them to the floor before even realising who it was. He couldn’t blame you for it, even after four years he still had nightmares - he could only imagine how much harder it was for you.

You were savouring the whiskey on ice, taking little sips as you listened to Sam boast about his club. You would have thought he was cocky but from the scars he was showing off he proved that he could back up his tales. It only made them more impressive and brought out the competitive spirit that tended to get you in trouble.

“An IED went off outside a school we were helping rebuild.” You pulled the waistband of your jeans down slightly to reveal your hip and Sam winced at the puckered scar tissue that disappeared below the denim. “It was packed with shrapnel.”

He reached out and gently traced his thumb over the scar, scorching heat trailing his touch. “How far does it go?”

Maybe if you had drunk more of the whiskey you would have jumped at the opening and let him take you to one of the rooms out back. As it was, you really were starting to feel the jetlag seeping in and with his devilish charm he would probably disarm you until you had laid all your secrets bare - he just had that trusting sense about him. “Maybe one day you’ll find out.”

You finished the now watery whiskey and placed the glass on the bar top before slipping from the stool in search of Joaquin. He was easy to find once you heard his laugh, the sound bringing back memories of the good times before it went bad.

The taste of whiskey, scent of smoke and the heat inside the clubhouse threw you back to a humid tent a few miles west of Kabul. It was supposed to be a time to relax before the next projects were assigned so you cut loose, drank too much and forgot for a moment that you were thousands of miles from home. Insurgents hadn’t known it was your time off, they hadn’t cared that you were a part of the mission trying to help rebuild infrastructure.

You could still hear their bullets ripping through the tent, see the glint of their machetes and they hacked their way in to find survivors of your team.

Light reflected off something beside you and ducked for fear of the blade burying itself in your neck. Your heart hammered in your chest as you heard the screams of your team calling for backup that would never arrive in time.

“Blaze!” Wacky called out and you reached blinding, still feeling the cold blood of your teammates running down your face as you hid beneath their bodies like a coward. “Let me through.”

“Hey sugar,” Sam’s velvet voice broke through the sound of your heart echoing through your head, “whatever that pretty head has taken you, you’re not there anymore.”

Your vision was hyper focused and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the boots you wore, military standard issue steel cap boots. They weren’t the same boots that you had worn that day, these soles weren’t soiled with the blood that had seeped into the dirt.

“Here.” Sam said as he took your hand and placed it on his chest. “No uniform.”

You watched your fingers run over the smooth leather and the thumping in your head was replaced with thoughts of the steady beating under your palm.

“What was that?” Joaquin asked, concern dripping from the question as he knelt beside you.

You were ashamed that you had let the past bleed into your present and you were especially sorry that you had knocked over a bartender who had been collecting empties on a steel tray.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here.” You muttered as you pulled your hand back and rose to your feet. “You’ve got a good family here Torres, I don't want to mess it up.”

“You won’t.” He said as he reached for your arm, catching himself as he saw you reel back. “Please, stay.”

You backed away to the door with your bag on your shoulder and your eyes darting around to make sure no one could attack. You knew in your heart they wouldn’t but your mind was your worst enemy most days. You had hoped that wouldn’t be the case once you were out of the war zone but ghosts had a way of following you.

“She’s got PTSD.” Sam said to Joaquin as they watched you leave.

“Yeah.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead roughly. “I tried to get her to talk to someone but she’s stubborn, she won’t listen to me.”

“She listened to me.” Sam pointed out. “Let me go talk to her.”

“I know you mean well Sam, and no offence, but I don’t want you getting involved if you can’t see it through. You just met her.”

“I know what she’s going through. I think I can help her.”

“But what if you can’t?” He snapped. “Are you gonna abandon her too, like everyone else has?”

Sam clicked his teeth and started making his way after you. “Thought you knew me better than that.”

Heavy boots quickly caught up to you and you cast a short glance over your shoulder, stumbling as you realised it was Sam. You took a second look, expecting to find Joaquin behind him but there wasn’t anyone else along the dimly lit street. Stopping under one of the few streetlights, you turned and waited for Sam to close the distance with long, purposeful strides.

“How’s Joaquin?” You asked, seeing the confusion on his expressive face. “I assumed you had to beat him into submission to get out the door.”

“You two know each other pretty well.”

You could hear the suspicion in his tone, something you heard a lot in past relationships and you were beyond the point of caring if you came across as rude. “He’s my best friend. I would take a bullet for him and I would put a bullet in someone for him. End of story. If that’s gonna be a problem for you then turn around and march that nice ass back to the clubhouse.”

His lips parted with a laughing smile and he buried his hands in his jeans as he leant against the lamppost. “I knew you had been checking out my ass.” 

“That’s all you got out of that?” You chuckled, tipping your head back to see the sky full of stars. 

“The only thing that matters to me.” He said as he sobered up. “And you can’t wander these streets all night so how about you crash at mine tonight.”

“What’s the catch?” You asked as you tightened your grip on your backpack.

“No catch.” He promised. “But if you’re up for it tomorrow, I have some people I’d like you to meet.”

You pursed your lips in consideration but knew you didn’t have a lot of options aside from going back and finding Joaquin but you weren’t ready to face him again just yet. Nodding tentatively, you let him take the bag off your shoulder and slip his hand into yours. 

“It’s a nice night for a walk.” He commented as he started heading further away from the clubhouse. “I only live down the block.”

“Thank you for all this.” You mumbled as you tried to ignore the comforting warmth of his hand radiating up your arm. 

He pulled you to a stop and waited silently until you had the courage to look up from your shoes. “It’s no problem, really. You’re like family to Joaquin, and we take care of our own.”

Innocence taken (1/2)

Info: Thomas Shelby has been the sole carer for his baby sister since he returned from the war, meaning that he has always been overly protective of her. At age 16, she tries to be more independent without the help of her brothers but when she gets attacked one night, she ends up pregnant and when her brother finds out, he doesn't realize that it wasn't by choice, and regrets it when Polly tells him the bad news.

Season: 1

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x sister reader, Shelby clan x sister reader

warnings: Mentions of rape

Part 2

The Garrison was practically empty as it neared closing time. Tommy Shelbys youngest sister y/n, laughed as she talked to Grace, cleaning up the counter. Grace placed some empty glasses on top of the bar counter as she cleaned up some of the tables that were empty. The two looked up when they heard the back room opening, seeing Tommy coming through. He nods at Grace before turning to his sister as she moved from behind the counter.

"Y/n, let's go home." Tommy stated, heading to front door as he lit a cigarette he had placed in his mouth. "I'm helping Grace close up tonight." Y/n stated, not looking at her brother as she wiped down a table. "No your not." Tommy stated, turning to look at his sister. " Yes I am." Y/n stated, looking up at her brother with an annoyed look. "Y/n Shelby......." "I'm not a kid Tommy, I'm capable of walking home on my own." Y/n stated, moving towards her brother in intimidation "Your under my control until your eighteen y/n so I suggest you come with me or I swear I will fucking drag you home." Tommy threatened, moving closer to y/n as she took a step back "Finns eleven and you let him walk around on his own. What's so different for me?" Y/n asked, crossing her arms. Tommy looks at Grace who was stood behind the counter watching the Shelby siblings argue. "Listen y/n, your a girl, who has little to no idea on how to protect herself. I just want you to be safe." Tommy sighed, stubbing his cigarette in a an ash tray before placing his hands on his sisters upper arms. "Fuck that Thomas, I'm well capable of looking after myself." Y/n spoke confidently, shaking her head in disagreement. "Mr. Shelby if I could, I think y/n is capable of walking home on her own, she's took care of drunk men in here on the daily. On her own may I add." Grace piped up from where she stood, causing Tommy to turn his gaze to the Irish woman with a glare. "Tommy please, trust me." Y/n pleaded, placing a hand on his arm as he turned his gaze back to his sister "Of course I trust you sweetheart, it's others I don't." He tried to explain, placing a hand on her cheek gently "I promise to be careful." She smiled softly, causing Tommy to sigh and shake his head "I want you back before midnight, any later and I won't let you do it again." Tommy stated reluctantly causing y/n to smile widely. "Thanks Tommy." Y/n smiled, hugging him quickly before leaving to the back room. "She's a good person." Grace stated, looking at Tommy as he stood still for a moment. "It's those around us who aren't" Tommy stated, taking out a cigarette once again. "She has you wrapped around her little finger." Grace spoke daringly, watching as Thomas glanced at her "Ah." Thomas nodded, opening the door. "Goodnight Mr. Shelby." Grace called back before silence consumed the pub floor.

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"Goodnight Grace." Y/n called out as she and Grace parted ways after locking up for the night. "Night y/n, be safe walking home." Grace nodded to the young girl before leaving y/ns sight.

Y/n sighed and gave a yawn as she started walking towards her home from childhood. The streets were relatively quiet since majority of it's residents gone home for the night. Taking a turn y/n slowed down when she heard something. Looking behind her, she sees nothing so decides to keep going when suddenly, she's grabbed from the side. She tries to scream but a hand is placed over her mouth as she's pulled further into an alley way. Looking up at her attacker, her eyes widens when she sees the eyes of the drunk man who had grabbed her.

"Hey pretty girl, let's have some fun." He said before pushing her into the wall, forcing himself onto her as she tries to fight him.

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Tears in her eyes, y/n didn't say anything as the man fixed himself up and left her in the dark. Sniffing slightly, she placed a hand over her mouth to silence the sobs that left her body as she realized what happened.

Gaining composure, she slowly walked him, a look of terror as she kept looking around her. Her hair and clothes were all over the place as she held her shoulders, trying to keep the sleeve of her dress which ripped up for modesty.

Turning the corner to her childhood home, she groaned as she seen a glow of light in the sitting room when she opened the door. She froze when she seen it was Tommy, who had stayed awake to make sure she got home safe. Turning towards the stairs, she cringes as she hears her brother calling out to her, but ignores it as she heads to her room, closing the door.

"Y/n?" Tommy called out, moving out to the hall in confusion when she doesn't answer him. "Y/n" He tried again, moving to the bottom of the stairs and making his way up the stairs.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Tommy knocks on his sisters door before opening it when he doesn't hear anything. Sighing in relief, he seen her lying on her bed with her back towards the door. Satisfied that she was home he nodded his head before leaving, closing the door behind him not knowing y/n was still awake with tears falling down her cheeks as she cried softly.

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Two weeks after the incident, y/n was still struggling with that night. Every little noise she heard caused her to jump and feel uneasy. She avoided walking in the dark as much as possible, going as far as taking the early shifts in the Garrison instead of the late ones. She avoided close contact with her brothers as much of possible, not evening sneaking into Tommy's room as she always did from a young age since the war, a tradition which eased both her and her brother that they were home and safe, instead opting to stick around Polly and Ada when she was home.

Arthur and Tommy sat at the kitchen table when she made her way done the stairs, yawning as she reached the bottom stairs. She froze when she seen the two boys sitting at the table before looking at Polly as she walked into the kitchen from the living room where Finn was.

"Morning love." Polly smiled at her as she turned off the stove which held the breakfast for the morning. "Morning Pol." She smiled softly, hiding the nausea which started to come up at the smell of the bacon. "Want some breakfast?" Her aunt asked as she plated the breakfast. "Not hungry." Y/n replied, eyeing the plates Pol placed in front of Tommy and Arthur. "Y/n sit done and eat some breakfast love, we haven't seen much of you lately." Tommy tried, moving the chair beside him out before patting it for her to sit. "I have morning shifts in the Garrison so I better get going." Y/n stated as she grabbed her coat from the hanger. "Take some toast at least." Polly chimed, grabbing a piece of toast from Tommy's plate and throwing it in the girls direction.

Y/n smiled weakly and grabbed the piece of toast that was left on the table before nodding and leaving quickly. Tommy watched with squinted eyes as his youngest sister left the house before moving towards the window, watching her cross the road and head the direction of the Garrison.

"Tommy something ain't right with her." Arthur stated, turning his attention to Tommy as he looked out the window. "Pol has she said anything to you?" Tommy asked as she moved away from the window and took a puff from his cigarette. "She's probably just not feeling well, you know how she gets when she's close to her time of the month." Polly stated, sitting at the table and grabbing a cigarette from the open packet on the table. "No it's not that, she's never been one to be away from one of us, she craves some form of affection from us whenever were close by." Tommy explained, breathing out smoke with a shake of his head, "Now she tries to avoid us like were the fucking plaque." He continued, leaning on the back of a chair. "I'll talk to her" Polly stated with a nod, knowing that even though he would never say, it was hurting Tommy that his sister didn't want to be near him.

Tommy and y/n had always been close, both before and after the war. When the Shelby boys had told their family that they would be leaving to fight in the war, y/n, at the young age of 12 had burst into tears and clung onto her second oldest brother, refusing to let go causing Polly and Ada to forcibly pull her off him so Tommy could leave. Tommy was heart broken seeing his sister like that and when he had returned he decided to become the carer of his younger sister. The two always done things together so to have y/n not wanting to be near him or talk to him pained him. She was his light, the main reason for getting up everyday.

"Come on Arthur, let's get John before we head to work." Tommy spoke, stubbing his cigarette butt and moving away from the table while he rolled his shoulders. "Let me know how y/n is Pol." He finished behind his shoulder before leaving the house, heading towards his car.

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Y/n sighed as she headed home from the garrison. Entering the house she rubbed her eyes in tiredness before heading towards the kitchen where Finn was sitting at the table. She smiled at her younger brother and ruffled his hair affectional when she passed him.

"Hey Finn." She smiled softly at him as she sat across from him. "Hey y/n." The boy smiled back as Polly came in. Y/n looked up to greet her aunt only to see a hard look on her face. "Finn, go into the living room, I need to talk to your sister." She stated, pointing to the door. Finn looked between his aunt and sister who nodded at him to do as he's told. "And no eave dropping." Polly shouted at him as he closed the door.

"What's this about?" Y/n asked in confusion as Polly sat in front of her. "I heard something, and I want to hear it from you, no lies, just the truth." Polly stated as she put her hands together in front of her. "About what?" Y/n asked in clear confusion. "Where were you today?" Polly asked, noticing as y/ns breathing hitched. "At work." "Not all day you weren't. Ada was at the garrison and said you left early, which isn't like you. So, where were you?" "Pol, please." Y/n pleaded softly. "Y/n where the hell were you?" Polly asked, her voice raising slightly. "The doctors okay." Y/n snapped, throwing her arms out in front of her. "I went to the doctors." She finished quietly as she looked down. "Why?" "I don't see how that is any of your concern...." "Y/n Shelby, your 16 years old, you don't go to something like the doctors unless me or Tommy know, so why were you at the doctors." Polly asked in a stern voice. "I was late. I kept getting sick, I didn't know what to say so I went on my own." Y/n replied in weak voice, causing her aunts face to soften. "Jesus Crist y/n, your not pregnant are you." Polly asked in shock, being proved right when y/n started crying. "I don't know what to do, I didn't want it." She stated, shaking her head rapidly. "You mean your were....." Polly asked, not able to finish the sentence. "I couldn't stop it Pol, I tried but he was too strong, I couldn't." Y/n explained as sobs escaped her lips. "Oh y/n, sweetheart." Polly rushed out of her seat and pulled y/n into a hug, petting her hair as she shook with her tears. "I couldn't stop him Pol, I tried, I really tried." Y/n stated, pulling away slightly. "Hey hey, none of this is your fault, okay, what that bastard did to you was not your fault so don't you dare blame yourself okay." Polly shushed the young girl, rubbing her arms when they pulled apart. Y/n sniffed and wiped her eyes . I don't know what to do Pol, I don't think I can be a mother." Y/n spoke with a shaky voice "You don't have to be, I know someone who can help you alright. This can all go away." Polly soothed her youngest niece, tucking some hair behind y/ns ears. "Do I have to tell Tommy?" y/n whimpered slightly "No, no one will know. It will be like it never happened." "But it did, it's stuck in my head like a record on replay." "It will get better y/n, time will heal." Polly stated, not knowing that the youngest of the Shelby's had heard everything.

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Tommy sat in the back room of the garrison, smoking a cigarette as he waited for Grace to bring him the drink he ordered. He looked up to the door when he heard the sound of frantic feet before the door slammed open, the youngest Shelby coming into view.

"Finn, what is it?" Tommy asked, watching as his youngest brother fidgeted in his position. "It's y/n." The younger boy spoke uneasy. "What about her? Finn, what's wrong with our sister?" Tommy asked, placing a hand on Finn's shoulder to get him to look at him. "She's, she's pregnant Tommy." Finn relayed, not remembering the vital information of how it happened. "What the fuck did you just say?" Tommy asked, enraged about the new found information. "Tommy your drink." Grace called out. "Don't fucking need it." Tommy cursed abruptly at the bar maid before storming out of the bar, the locals watching him leave before looking at Finn who just ran out to follow his second oldest brother.

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Polly looked up from her position on the couch as she heard the door slam open. She placed a finger to her lips when she seen it was Tommy before caressing y/n's hair gently as she lay with her head in her aunts lap. Tommy sighed and moved in front of the two women.

"Y/n wake up, now." Tommy spoke as he shook his sister harshly. "Tommy for fuck sake leave her alone." Polly told him as y/n opened her eyes with tiredness. "Stay out of this Pol, y/n my office now." Tommy pointed to the women as he spoke to them. "Jesus Christ Tommy can you just calm down and leave her be. What's this about?" Polly asked, holding y/n as she steadied her niece to a seating position, still half asleep. Never you mind what this is about Pol, this is between me and y/n." Tommy stated, grabbing y/ns elbow and dragging her to his office.

"Tommy, your hurting me." Y/n winched as she frantically tried to get him to let go of her. "Sit down." He stated, ignoring her as she pushed her into his office and closing the door behind them before moving to his seat. "What's going on?" Y/n asked, looking at her brother in nervousness. "I heard something which I didn't like the sound of, and I'm hoping you can confirm that what I heard was a big misunderstanding." Tommy spoke as he lit a cigarette and placed it in his mouth. "Well, what did you hear?" She asked shyly, moving uncomfortably in her seat. "One of my sisters are pregnant, and I want to find out who the fucking guy was." He stated, leaning on his desk as he sat up. y/n looked up at him in fear. "Well y/n, who was it?" "Tom..." "Fucking answer me y/n, who was he?" Tom shouted causing y/n to flinch involuntarily "It's not what you think?" Y/n tried to explain. "Just tell me who it was y/n?" "I don't know." She spoke, looking down in shame. "You don't know. You fucking sleeping around y/n huh. You a fucking whore now eh?" Tommy screamed at his sister. "No it's not like that." Y/n cried, looking up at her brother as he stood up and threw glass to the wall ,causing her to flinch. "No? Cause the way I see it I have a 16 year old sister who's a fucking whore, and letting men take at advantage of her but didn't think of the possible outcome and is now fucking pregnant." "Tommy please...." Y/n begged, not able to look at her brother in shame. "Just get the fuck out of my sight y/n, I don't want to see you right now." Tommy stated, opening the door and grabbing y/n by the shoulder, pushing her out before slamming the door in her face.

Y/n stood at the door even after the door was slammed in her face before breaking down in tears. She leaned against the door and covered her face as she realized that her brother had called her a whore and really believed that she would just sleep around.

"Y/n?" Polly asked cautisly, seeing her youngest niece in tears at her bothers office door. "Can we go tomorrow Pol? I just want this nightmare to be over." Y/n pleaded as she looked up to her aunt, her eyes full of tears. "Yeah, we can go tomorrow." Polly smiled softly at the young girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and rubbing her arm gently "Come on, let's make you a nice warm bath and then straight to bed, we have a busy day tomorrow." "What's tomorrow?" Ada asked, coming into the hall, looking in confusion when she seen her sisters tears. "Come help me with your sister Ada." Polly spoke as she helped y/n up the stairs "She needs you right now." Was all she said before leaving into the bathroom to start the bath.

Good To You - 4.

“Am I still breathing? ”

I am asking myself the same question right now !

You are literally giving me life with every fic you write !!

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 ||

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?”

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