Diamonds & Pearls // Anthony Bridgerton X Reader

Secret Identities (Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley x reader)

Summary: There’s part of your life that Steven, Marc, and Jake don’t know about. A big part… namely that you’re an Avenger. But they’re about to find out, and it’s not exactly how you wanted it to go

Fluff, some angst, mostly fluff

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader

A/N: I did my best to accurately represent DID, I had an unfortunate moment where I defaulted to she/her pronouns instead of making this gender neutral as intended, I think I corrected it all, but please tell me if I missed anything

Based on this request: If you take the requests, can I ask for Marc/Steven/Jack with a reader formerly Avengers but rather unknown to the public, and one day some agent from an organization interrupts the reader and Marc/Steven/Jack to ask for help in settling a case since reader is “one of the last remaining active Avengers and one of the people who fought Thanos to protect the universe” and Marc/Steven/Jack are just - wait what?!

—-

It was probably your own history that made a relationship with Marc, Steven, and Jake possible. As an Avenger, you were used to having the people you loved returning home with bumps and bruises and often worse. It was only natural that you’d end up in a relationship with a superhero, not an Avenger, but the boys certainly could be.

Not that you were going to ask them to join the Avengers, mostly because they don’t know about you. You hadn’t told Steven on the first date, nor the second, nor any after. You hadn’t told Marc when you met for the first time and he explained their DID. You hadn’t told Jake when he showed up to your flat in a black and white suit, covered in blood and told you through pained gasps that he was the Moon Knight. That would have been the ideal time to confess your own masked exploits. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that.

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Well this was fucking hot

I’m sorry to hear about your interrupted morning 😩 if you’re looking for requests, I absolutely adore your stucky x reader fics and your smut is just *chefs kiss* 👀

Thank you so much Katie! So this is how I wish my morning went...I am so happy to share it with you too <3

Morning Sex || Stucky

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, double penetration, cream pie, pure filth and nothing else WC: ~850

main masterlist || bucky masterlist

Your body was overheated but you couldn’t move. It felt as if you were trapped between two man-sized lumps of hot coal and if it wasn’t for Bucky’s vibranium arm giving you some reprieve you would have surely melted. You couldn't wait for winter to return and enjoy their need to pin you between their bodies but these summer nights were far too hot for it.

Your squirming woke Bucky first, his arm tightening slightly around your waist and pulling your back closer to his chest as his gravelly voice whispered in your ear. “It’s too early, doll, go back to sleep.”

Sensing your body had moved away from his, Steve shuffled closer and now you were even hotter than before. In a last ditch attempt to cool down you hooked your leg over Steve’s hip and tried to reach out with your foot for the cool air at the edge of the blanket. Steve sighed as he felt your naked body pressing against his and his cock woke up before he did.

“Good morning, angel.” He murmured as his hands roamed up your thigh to rest next to Bucky’s arm across your hip.

The heat burning through your body was now for an entirely different reason and you felt Steve’s hips moving as his blunt head teased between your legs. A soft moan filled the air and you felt Bucky’s cock growing hard behind you at the sound, their tips meeting together at your pussy lips.

“Good morning indeed.” You purred as you rolled your hips, your slick folds teasing over both their cocks and they moaned as your moisture rolled down their shafts.

You knew Bucky was tired and he had only arrived home from his mission a few hours ago but his body betrayed his need for sleep with a stronger need for your body. It was an almost unspoken rule that had come about and you gasped as his head pushed through your folds first and he kissed your neck as he came to a stop deep inside you. Steve lifted your leg higher and you were lucky he had stretched you nice and good last night or you could not have taken them both this morning.

“Breathe, babygirl, you take us both so well.” Steve encouraged as his head breached your entrance and he slowly pumped his hips so each time his cock slipped in a little more.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned as your eyes shut and your walls struggled to fit both of their thick shafts.

Bucky’s fingers teased your nipples as he held you still against him and let Steve fuck into you. You could tell when Steve’s cock hit his just right as Bucky’s breath would hit your neck as he exhaled deeply and his chest would shudder behind you. “Feels so good, god. This is why I came home.”

His voice was still laden with sleep but the deep tone all quiet in your ear left your pussy clenching and both of your men moaned as you tightened around them. Steve was spurred into action as he revelled in how both you and Bucky responded to him, he pushed your legs wider as he shoved his leg between yours and he hooked his heel over Bucky’s thigh. Using Bucky as an anchor he slammed himself into you, knocking the breath from your lungs as your nails raked down his back in ecstasy.

“Oh god, yes, I’m so fucking full…I’m gonna-” You gasped as Bucky sucked hard on your neck and Steve stole your cries with a kiss.

Steve could hardly move as your pussy clamped around them and your legs trembled. Your body threatened to pull away from them as your pleasure mounted but Bucky’s arm tightened its hold and kept you firmly in place as he let your body milk him, Steve’s satisfied moans joining him as their cocks pulsed against each other and they filled you to the brim with their cum.

Your pussy ached so good as Steve gently pulled himself out and collapsed on his back, his chest puffing, and your lips pouted as Bucky followed him, leaving you empty. Warmth leaked out of your swollen cunt and you caught Steve’s proud smile as he watched their cum running over your leg, the heady smell of sex filled the air. He couldn’t resist pulling you into his arms at the sight of you, looking so sexy and satiated.

Bucky’s hand slipped from your hip as you curled into Steve’s side and you looked back wondering why he hadn’t followed but found his eyes closed and lips parted, a soft snore escaping. He must have been tired to miss out on post bliss snuggles but you let him be and just watched Steve’s contented face relax before your eyes.

“Shower or bath?” Steve offered as he drew invisible pictures across your back.

Bucky always joined you for baths and you didn’t want him to miss out because he needed his rest. “Shower. We can bathe together later.”

Steve’s eyes flickered to his friend and his lips tipped up as the thought. “Good idea, angel.”

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Enamored [36] - Preparations

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

Summary: Planning a wedding takes time.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, mentions of sex, kissing.

Word Count: 4800

Series Masterlist

You were so excited for your wedding that the moment your father gave you his approval, you had transformed a spare room into a planning room. It was impossible for everything to fit into your bedroom after all, and you had insisted personally approving everything that was going to be present at the engagement party and the wedding.

It was almost crazy that in only two weeks, you would be married to the love of your life. Every time the thought crossed your mind, it filled you with so much happiness that you felt like even the sun was shining brighter than before.

But it also meant that you now only had two weeks to plan the wedding.

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

Again I’m spaming at this point but this is so good

Guardian of Heroes

Imagine having healing abilities, but healing wounds comes at a price.

Words: 4K Author’s Note: Well would you look at this- a request + an AU fix it (of sorts). Also, heads up, the ending is kind of abrupt. I had no clue how to end this! Lol. @mummy-woves-you​ I hope you still like it.

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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. 

Yeah that’s right nobody can resist that guy

Love em' and leave em' is there going to be part 3 ?

There is now 🥵

Love ‘em and Leave ‘em [pt.3] || Bucky

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, oral (f rec), unprotected sex WC: 1.8k

main masterlist || bucky masterlist || part one || part two

Every instinct of yours told you to run, to get out that door and get as far away as possible. On the other hand, a small ache in your chest hinted at a larger pain you would feel if you were to leave. This was breaking every rule.

“Here, you look like you could use it.” Bucky chuckled as he handed you a large glass of wine.

“I didn’t pick you for a wine drinker.” You frowned as you accepted the stem.

“There’s lots about me that would surprise you, if you got to know me.” He teased as he sat down on the couch beside you.

“What are we doing Bucky?” You sighed as you ran your finger around the ring of the glass just to keep your fingers occupied. “If you want to know more about me, I’ll give you my file but this just feels weird. I mean, we have had sex on this couch more times than I can count and now you want to casually chat?”

Bucky shrugged and stretched his arm over the back of the couch, fingers delicately trailing along your shoulder. “I’m not saying sex is off the table.”

“Well that’s a relief.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s the only reason I’m here.”

He smirked as he raised the glass back to his lips, a small sip savouring the flavour while you tipped yours back and emptied it. He was right, you did need the drink if you were going to be having such a heavy conversation, especially for a Tuesday night.

“You don’t have to lie to me, doll. You knew the deal when you came here.”

“And now I am regretting it.” You muttered under your breath as you placed the empty glass on his coffee table. “I’m not sure what you are hoping to prove if I stay the night.”

“That you actually like me.”

“I do like you Bucky…when you're busy using your tongue to make me cum and not talking about feelings.”

He placed his glass on the table beside yours and pushed you back into the couch so he could spread your legs and fill the space between. His hands shoved your dress up to your hips and he ran his fingers over your mound, pressing the thin fabric into your heat. This was what you were hoping for on his return from his mission, this was the release you were chasing and that your fingers couldn’t replicate.

“Hmm, you can say you don’t like talking but look how wet you are.” He teased as he brushed the fabric aside and gathered your arousal on his fingers so you had to watch him lick them clean.

“Bucky…” You groaned as his touch disappeared and you squirmed with the need to feel it again.

“Don’t worry, I missed you just as much.”

His lips placed light kisses along the inside of your thigh, the tickle of his stubble sending goosebumps across the skin. The feeling was so foreign to you that it almost seemed to give you a brain freeze and you couldn’t remember how to breathe. Everything was alway hard and fast, passionate and violent sex. You didn’t know he could even show restraint let alone take his time to make love.

“What are you doing?” You gasped as the word crossed your mind.

“I’m getting to know you.” He breathed across your skin as he began to make his way up your other leg. “Every inch of you. Close your eyes.”

You stared at him for a moment, wanting to know if there was some trick but his intense blue orbs looked sincere so you blinked a few times before closing them completely. Your ears were sensitive to every sound, the blood rushing through your head, Bucky’s timed breathing or the quiet smacking of his lips as they kissed your skin. You heard it all and it left you dizzy.

A soft moan fell from your lips as they parted, your muscles relaxing under his hands that massaged them and still he kept bathing you with his kiss. Perhaps this was how the gods felt when they were worshipped, it was no wonder they had such big ego’s, the high was intoxicating. Spots of light flashed behind your eyelids as you felt him getting closer to where you needed him most.

“Lay down.” Bucky ordered and you moved so that you laid down the length of the couch. “Good girl.”

You waited for his touch, about to peek out from under your lashes when cold liquid drizzled across your stomach. A gasp jumped from your lungs at the sudden unexpected chill before Bucky’s tongue lapped it up, the sharp scent of the white wine added to the sensual experience. He could feel your body shiver and you felt the rumble of his deep chuckle more than you heard it.

His fingers dipped between your legs and he hummed in appreciation. “So fucking wet for me.”

“Please, Bucky, I need you.” You whined as you felt the throbbing deep in your core that hadn’t been reached since he left.

His resolve was breaking as he watched you squirm for him with desperation, your eyes screwed shut and mouth open as he worked his thick digits in and out of your pussy. Unable to deny either of you any longer, he pulled his hand away and told you to open your eyes. You blinked slowly as you were blinded by the bright lights above you and took the hand he offered you, pulling you onto shaky legs before leading you to his bed.

“I was half expecting rose petals scattered everywhere.” You joked as you looked around his tidy room.

“It crossed my mind.”

You weren’t sure if his smile said he was teasing or if he actually had thought about doing it. You weren’t sure what shocked you more, that you didn’t turn and run or that you would have found the notion…sweet. He seemed to notice you were getting lost in your head again and he dimmed the lights before pulling you to his chest and capturing your lips.

The kiss didn’t end, even as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled you over his lap, his cock straining against his jeans and you rolled your hips to get the friction you desperately needed. You both broke away with the need for oxygen and he laid back on the bed, tugging you higher up his body.

“You wanna cum babydoll, then get up here.” He said as he patted the space beside his head. “I missed your taste.”

You climbed his body at the promise of release and settled yourself over his face, his hot breath warming your damp thighs before his tongue reached your folds. Your head fell back in ecstasy as he explored your slit with his tongue, moaning to himself as he tasted your juices that were flowing from you before giving your sensitive pearl some love.

“God, that feels fantastic.” You moaned as your hips began to roll, pushing his head into the mattress and you tried to feel more. “I’m gonna cum all over your face, Buck.”

You couldn’t make out what he said with his mouth full but it sounded promising and when his hands cupped your ass and ground you against him even harder, you were done. Bolts of lightning splintered your body and you cried out as your legs began to tremble around his head, clit pulsing over his tongue as he let you ride out your orgasm against it.

Your head was spinning as you collapsed onto the mattress beside him, a lazy grin across your face from the sheer intensity of your orgasm, all thanks to the slow build up he had given you. You couldn’t believe both of you were still pretty much completely dressed with the exception of your panties laying discarded somewhere in his living room.

“You are way overdressed for the evening's activities.” You said as you tugged the button of his shirt open and began to pull the material up over his abs as he smirked.

“Plenty of time for that, we are just getting started.”

You were 99% sure if he wasn’t pinning you up against the shower wall that you would have sunk right down the drain as his hips pistoned into you. All you could do was hang on for dear life as another orgasm ripped through while you were meant to be getting clean. You had figured out his ploy was to fuck you until you couldn’t walk because then you couldn’t leave before spending the night and you had to give it to him, it was going to work.

“I can’t, Bucky, I can't, it's too much.” You whimpered as he dared to elicit another orgasm from you before he came.

“You’ve had more than this before.” He strained as his own release loomed over him.

“It’s different.” You admitted quietly as you bit your lip. “These are so fucking intense, please, Bucky I need a break.”

Your begging seemed to break him and his hips dug into you before he stayed buried as deep as he could get, his breathing in your ear and his cock throbbing in your cunt. “Fuuuck. Holy shit.”

Your arms hung limp around his neck as his strength kept you upright and you sighed with relief after enduring so much pleasure you couldn’t possibly take anymore. Gently placing you back on your feet, he checked your legs weren’t about to collapse under you before washing your body clean, then his. You might as well have been a ragdoll considering how boneless you seemed to be.

“You can rest now.” He said softly as he laid down beside you, your eyes heavy and already beginning to close. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you drifted off to sleep, body curling into his. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

A moment of peace washed over you as you opened your eyes, the morning rays casting golden light over the room. You thought that the shadows made Bucky’s jaw look even more defined and your finger traced the line before your mind caught up and you froze.

“Hey.” He smiled as he opened his eyes, the blue pale in comparison to how dark they were last night. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t trust your voice so you nodded, a thousand thoughts running through your head. There was the urge to escape, the urge to lie, the urge to stay and the urge to tell the truth - so many urges you didn’t know which would prevail. Opting for some place in between you accepted his kiss as he pulled you closer into his embrace.

“I will be.”

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Safe Place

Summary: You are Bucky’s safe place. Well your boobs are. 

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, mention of boobs

Word count: 317 short but sweet

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

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It all started on a sunny Tuesday. You and Bucky were currently laying on the sofa in the common room of the tower, Bucky was laying between your legs, his hips were on yours pining you down so you couldn’t move, not that you want too anyway. 

It was a bad day today. You knew it was because he was like a lost puppy dog following you around all day begging for his safe place.

And that’s how you ended up pinned under a super soldier, with his face gently nestled in between your boobs while you were reading your book. A comforting silence washed over you both, making Bucky sigh with calmness. His hands trying to go around you so he could be closer, so you arched your back slightly to help him and relaxed when he connected his arms.

You heard a muffled “thank you” causing you to giggle slightly at the vibrations in your chest.

“You’re most welcome bubba.” You whispered, kissing the top of his head as to not disturb the peaceful silence between you both.

It was a little over an hour when your silence was interrupted by the ding of the elevator, causing you to look up from your book to see Sam walking out with his head in his phone.

“Hey.” He greeted, doing a double take. “What is he doing?”

“Hi, Sam.” You greeted back, smiling at him, and then going back to your book. “It’s not a good day today.”

Sam nodded understandingly, hearing a muffled “piss off pigeon” causing him to shake his head as you giggled again from the vibrations.

“Feel better soon, Tin Man.” Sam called before walking away, making Bucky growl into your chest.

“Hey. Less of that.” You scolded playful as he whined, snuggling into your boobs more and sighing happily.

He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

You are Bucky’s safe place.

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Wildest Dreams.

Imagine it’s a couple days before your wedding and your friends start coming in for your last days of freedom. Only you start having second thoughts, old feelings crop up, and you end up having a breakdown.

Words: 5.1K Warnings: This happens to be an AU with no children and Liz is alive. If a character isn’t mentioned, I’m sorry. I had too many characters already.

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I need this to be a series !

What Didn’t Kill Me (Made Me Stronger)

Imagine being kidnapped at a young age and then returned to your family some years later after being rescued. Only difference is that you’re not the same as you once were.

Words: 8.8K Author’s Note: Very brief crossover here with Marvel here and there. This is going to take place the summer before Teen Wolf’s senior year, but all the drama they went through their final year doesn’t happen. It’s a normal year. Well.. somewhat normal.

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