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Bucky and Gorgeous

Thin Ice

Bucky has a few rules. The most important one is that you always say have to tell your biker you love him before you leave the house. Because 'I love you Bucky' are his four favorite words.

Pairing: Beefy Biker!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of smut, implied overstimulation kink, Biker Bucky being a menace.

A/N: Written on my phone. Based on that tiktok

|Masterlist|Biker Masterlist| Library|

“I’m running to the store, do you need anything?” you ask, walking past Bucky on your way to the front door.

He’s bent over the sink, a thin sheen of sweat on his back makes his colorful back tattoos shimmer as rays of sunlight from the open window stream across his skin, his work pants slung low around his hips as he removes the drain.

“Can you grab me some chips and the one dip I like?”

You sling your purse over your shoulder, putting your keys in your pocket. “Okay, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you,” he calls out, turning back to the leaky faucet. “Bye Gorgeous, I love you.”

“Bye Bucky,” you respond, covering your mouth to stifle your laughter, quickly closing the door with a soft snick, you jaunt down the steps to the yard. You wonder how long it’s going to take for him to realize you didn't say I love you.

It’s a dangerous game, playing with your boyfriend like this, but you’re having too much to stop.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, putting the wrench on the counter. Anticipating his four favorite words. I love you Bucky. The only other phrases that even come close to making him as happy are yes right there Bucky and don’t stop, m’ close and you can have the last bite and I can’t wait for bike week.

Sure, the last two are more than four words, but he does love hearing you say them.

A second ticks by.

Then another.

His brows hit his hairline when he realizes you actually have the nerve to leave without saying it back.

The hell you will.

“Hold up,” Bucky rushes down the hallway, skidding across the smooth wooden surface. Grabbing the doorknob, he flings it open, blinking as the bright afternoon hits his face.

“Excuse you Gorgeous,” he snaps, the warmth in his blue eyes belies his dark, icy tone. “You forget something?”

You stumble to a quick stop. “Huh?” You say innocently, peering over your shoulder, the stark indignation on his bearded face makes you giggle. Oh, he’s furious.

“Don’t you huh me.” Bucky holds up his ring-adorned hand and gestures for you to come back. "Get your cute ass over here."

Another giggle slips out and you turn towards your towering biker, a smile stretches across your lips as you stroll over to him.

“I. Love. You.” He states emphatically, his eyes focused on your face, daring you to keep playing with him.

“I love you too,” you tell him when you reach the steps.

“Thank you.” He glares down at you, plush lips twitching as he tries to maintain his stern expression. “And?”

“Uh...” You drag out the word, knowing it's going to push him over the edge.

It does.

“You’re on thin ice, gorgeous, real thin ice.” Bucky takes you by the waist and walks you into the side of the house, his hand cupping the back of your head before it hits the dusty red brick.

You love the way he manhandles you with just the right amount of tender possessiveness that makes your knees weak and your heart race.

"You know what I want." He pins you against the wall with his heavy weight, leaning his entire tattooed body on yours, and stares down at you expectantly. “You broke the rules Gorgeous. So pay up.”

A few nights after the first time he told you he loved you, Bucky swore he would never go a day without saying it to you and you made the same vow without hesitation because you could spend your life proclaiming your love for this man. The rules are something the two of you came up with after a few drinks while on a date. The mostly consist of ways for him to get at pretty girl. Not that you mind.

“Bucky, I thought that was a joke,” you tease, gazing up at him.

His sharp gasp is followed by what you can only describe as an animalist growl, and God does it sound so damn erotic, you feel it wind the deep rumble way down your spine, warmth blooming in your veins. Before he can open his mouth, you’re leaning up on your tiptoes, clasping your hands behind his neck and pulling him down so you can pay up.

Bucky instantly melts into your touch, the second your lips brush against his. A moan, his, maybe yours, floats between you, his soft, chapped lips parting. He takes your hands and places them above your head, his hips grinding into yours, turning the kiss into something wild and passionate. Your tongue slips into his mouth, tasting the sweet blueberries muffin and coffee he had for breakfast. When you pull back to bite down on his lower lip, he shivers. Only you can make him do that.

“God damn I love you, gimme one more,” he groans, his hand drifts down to your throat and he pushes your chin up with his thumb, claiming your mouth, his lips slotting over yours, deepening the kiss until all you feel are his soft lips on yours, taking every piece of you, claiming you.

And he’s giving you all of him, the vibrant promise to always love you is there with every caress of his hands, with every sigh of your name on his lips, with every adoring glance.

He finally breaks away, nodding to himself. “That’s more like it.”

Releasing your hands, he smirks as you slump against the wall, panting heavily.

He takes a step back, tucking his knuckle under your chin, gently pushing your face up until you’re gazing into his blue eyes, darkened with a heady desire and unbidden adoration. “Love ya Gorgeous.”

“Love you too,” you say with a smile.

“That’s more like it. I'll never get tired of you saying that." He playfully raises his brows, his smirk widening. “So can I tell my pretty girl I love her too?”

You let out a light laugh, reaching up to nip at his chin. “Of course, you can,” you start, swatting his hand when he reaches for her. “Later, after I finish shopping.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “I need to fix the sink anyway.” He glances down at your thighs, toying with the zipper on your shorts. “But when you get back, I want at least two hours with my pretty girl to make up for what you did to me.”

Of course, he does, you think, honestly, you expect nothing less from your insatiable, needy biker. You give him one more kiss. “Bucky, you can have as much time with her as you want.”

“As much time as I want?” He repeats, planting his hands by your head, a mischievous glimmer flashing across his blue eyes.

Bucky gives you a pointed look as he’s suddenly reminded of his other four favorite words.

I can’t come again. Oh god, please Bucky.

Bucky waits until you realize what you just promised him, your eyes widening slowly and he chuckles. “If you insist Gorgeous. Just remember what you said when I have your thighs wrapped around my head all night.”

You can't think of a better way to spend your Friday night.

Power Over Me

Summary: Bucky has a thing for sundresses, he loves it when you wear them for him. All you have to do is saunter around in his favorite one and he’s willing to do whatever you want. 

Pairing: Beefy Biker Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Bucky being a 6′4″ menace, sex against a wall. 

A/N: Based on a tiktok about sundresses, written on my phone, sinday drabble. This is not the fic about the first time he saw you in a sundress, oh no he was way worse that day. 

|Masterlist| Biker Masterlist|Library|

Bucky loves it when you wear dresses, you look beautiful in the classic little black but his favorites are those colorful sundresses. The ones that show off your luscious curves, and slide across your ass with every step, highlighting your body in ways the other dresses can’t. 

He goes feral every time he sees you in them. It’s safe to say he likes them. More than you like it when he wears his grey sweatpants.

You can get him to do anything you want if you ask him while wearing the one red with the thin gold straps. Granted, he’s going to do whatever you want anyway, but he appreciates the extra motivation.

And he knows, he absolutely knows, what you’re doing when you saunter around the house, wearing a new sundress. Enticing him with your pretty smiles and even prettier eyes as the soft material sways around your hips.

It doesnt matter because he’s always ready to give you anything including the moon whenever what you want. He’s just waiting for you to ask.

That’s the power you have. And he love it.

Keep reading

"The Moon Had Other Plans"

Hello everybody, i entered the Moon Knight writing phase. I'm obsessing, so this man is always on my mind. This might get a part 2, and after that a 3. Depends on how my creativity works in the next weeks. Enjoy this little piece, it's super angsty, srry.

Marc Spector x Partner!Reader (no Steven in this :c)

Warnings: Blood, injuries, death, mentions of suicide, spoiler (ish) for ep. 5

Summary: Reader is Marc's mercenary partner and lover, and she's with him on that one night when everything changed. Marc watches everything unfold before his eyes, and thinks he lost the girl he loves..

Part 2

Pain was the only thing that existed in Marc. His body lost too much blood, the wound on his side leaking crimson, painting the trail he crawled, the boring sand soaking up the red liquid like a thirsty creature. While his brain tried to deal with the torment of the body, his chest squeezed his lungs and heart together as he still saw your from the shelter of the tomb.

If it wasn't for the pool of blood under you, he would have said you were just sleeping. Peacefully, just as you did the night before in his arms, tangled together, not minding the heat of Cairo. Your hair sticking to your forehead, little drops of sweat shining in the moonlight. A smile on your face, watching the sparkling stars around the big grey planet, and it made him happy how those simple thing made you happy. Your body warm against his, fingers drawing shapes on his chest as you try to calm your breaths after getting lost in desire.

Now you are lifeless. Blood isn't pumping in your veins, it's not fueling you anymore. He knew it at the moment the bullets hit your torso, sending you down into the dry sand, knocking the air out of you with a loud gasp.

It's like a movie. Slow motion and big skips in his memory. He remembers exactly how you took those bullets, and immediately after the ones that cut through his skin, but he can't remember how he managed to get to you. His fingers roamed your body, shaking you, calling out your name, hoping you would just open your eyes, and wake him up from this nightmare.

He remembers crying over your body, his bloody hand searching for bare skin under your scarf, desperate to find a faint proof of your beating heart. And as he finds the spot on your neck, and he feels nothing, a sob breaks out of him. He hears himself scream, the sound getting lost in the infinite desert around you.

The next thing he knows, he's next to the sculpture, shielding him from the light of the moon, but illuminating the ancient creation around him. Blood is all over him, and he's not sure if it's his or yours.

He doesn't know what's going to kill him. The bullet wound, the soul breaking pain of losing you, or the handgun he holds close to his chin. Ready to end it, to forget all about this, to ascend to the otherworld, go to hell, or vanishing into nothingness. Whatever which one, just not this. The last thing he'll see is you, dead in a foreign land, by the hands of someone you both trusted. Honestly, by his hands. He was the reason you were there with him.

So he places the barrel to his neck pointing up to his brain, finger lingering over the trigger. Sight leaving your form, rolling back to his head with pain. Pictures of you falling to the ground replaying in his head, over and over again. He wishes he wouldn't have to see it. He's selfish and a coward for thinking that, because he knows how unbearable would have been for you. To see him the same he saw you. And still, he wished he died before you. That self hate is enough, to push him over the edge, ready to pull the trigger with acceptance of his fate.

But the Moon had other plans.

*

Cairo is your nightmare. A nightmare you greet every night like an old friend. While it was just sounds, pictures and feelings in your mind for a long time, it became a reality quickly when you stepped on the dry land for the first time in years. This place turned out to be awfully nostalgic, replaying memories you shut inside a treasure box with the heaviest lock.

Memories mixing with the laughing of Marc on your horrible joke about pyramids, the painful recovery in the hospital, adrenaline filled missions, and the terrified look on Marc's face on that night.

After all this time, you still lived in the shadow of his absence. Your memories were foggy, and the uncertainty of the little to nothing memory you had made you go crazy. Did he left you there? Was it all a lie, and he got away with his share? Did he ever loved you? He thought you have died, and somehow found a way to escape?

Everything was a mystery about that faithful night. You dug up every file, info from every possible agency and police storage you could access. And the fog never cleared up.

It's a miracle you survived your injuries, and it was a way bigger miracle, when you managed to abscond from the authorities. Acting like you don't speak any language they tried, displaying a very credible fear helped your case.

They didn't know anything about you, and they didn't had the time to find out. Week have already passed when you woke up, so your body had time to heal enough for you to make a move. It was a survival instinct.

Everything after that was the most horrible time in your life.

And you finally found him.

~☽ Moonstone ☾~

Credit @natashowlet for the header image, I edited it just enough to ruin it with words

Fandom: Moon Knight(TV)

Rating: Mature/Explicit.

Pairing: Khonshu/Reader (unnamed cis!female)

Warnings: GRAPHIC MATERIAL FOR THOSE 18+

Underage readers, this is your notification that this is not content you should read.

Other warnings include: massive amounts of angst and other emotions. Asexual writer attempting smut. Violence. Bloodshed. Purple prose. Non-linear story telling. Liberal amounts of foul language. Misusing Egyptian mythology as inspiration. Soul Sex and other metaphysical shit. I also am barely acquainted with the comics.

Summary: Before Marc and Steven, before Arthur Harrow, Khonshu had another avatar. Well, hundreds of thousand of others, but this is the story of one in particular that Khonshu was fond of.

~☽ O ☾~

Before Series: Snippets featuring Reader as Khonshu's Avatar, listed mainly in chronological order

Part One: I don't know how else to put this. The drabble that started it all. Non-linear and jumps around**Smut**

Friday the 13th: Scary movies? Confused Khonshu? Subtle flirting? Yep.

Part five Before series goes here

Hallucination: Khonshu cheers Reader up... sorta. In his own way. (not really intending to, tbh)

Untitled 1: a prompt by @rebeccakitty; Reader has menstural cramps, and Khonshu helps her with them (After a little bit of grumbling)

Untiled 2: While The first Drabble belongs early time wise, the second belongs late. So we'll place it smack dab in the middle.

Untitled 3: What can I say? Soft moment between you and Khonshu. Just pure fluff

(Part Three's Before-Series goes here)

(Part Four HERE)

Untitled 4: Khonshu and Hathor have a talk

(Part Six Here)

~☽ O ☾ ~

During Series: The main body? of the story? IDK, it's after Marc agrees to become Khonshu's avatar.

Part Two: The Bridge between Before and During series. Angst.

Part Three: Part of episode one, part before-series Smut.

Part Four Just a direct sequel of part Three. This will not happen much.

Part Five : Yep, we following the series. Started my own foreshadowing though! Before series part is early in the days of the Former Avatar's days as the Moon Knight.

Part Six: Huge chapter. With Smut! And plot! Can you ask for anything more?

Mirage: Set during episode 3 (Edited version now part of Part Six)

Part Seven: Some original shit thrown into the plot, and angst.

Part Eight: Enter the tomb of Ammit! And more original shit thrown in

Part Nine: Angry women, angry goddesses, and oh, a griffin.

~☽ O ☾ ~

Post Series: What it says on the tin.

Jealousy: Reader makes the slight comment that Khonshu wouldn't know what to do with a mouth of he had one. Jake overhears. Explict smut ensues.

The tagging list for MoonStone!

FUCKING FANART BY THE AMAZING @wast3ofurtim3

MORE FANART BY THE AMAZING @aerinpage

MORE ART! THIS TIME BY THE AMAZING @child-of-the-moon-gods

Multiverse of Madness + Text Posts ♡

his hand are always on my mind. never around my throat.