#Now I can’t say this out LOUD if I don’t want a fucking mob outside my house bc

[aeolianblues]

if I were a statue in a temple I’d be fed so much better than a beggar who sits right outside the same walls. The statue isn’t ‘drinking’ the milk or the honey. It isn’t eating the fruits or the sesame seeds or the high-grade oil you offer. Not the sweets, not the homemade pooris. Not the other prasad. The tiny stone statue isn’t wearing or being warmed by the dhoti you donated. Neither is the man with the tattered clothes outside the temple walls. The pundit is pocketing that ₹500 you put in front of the statue. You ‘bathed’ a stone while reciting the tale of a god’s bath in Sanskrit. The milk, ghee and honey run into the drain.

Call me a fucking heretic but how is this right.

[bnhabadass]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader Genre: Smut, 18+, Mafia AU Trope: Woke up married Dialogue Prompt: “Aren’t we supposed to be working?”  Warnings: overdosing on cold medicine, mixing cold medicine with alcohol, dub-con, mentions of sex while unconscious, vomiting Word Count: 4,480

This is my contribution to this month’s bnharem collab. I was so happy when I spun the roulette wheel and it landed on my favorite au, the mafia au. I hope you all enjoy and make sure to check out everyone else’s contributions here. Also a big thanks to @doinmybesthere​ for being my beta reader and putting so much work into creating the master list for this collab.

“A fever? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You winced at the voice coming out of your phone. You were curled up in bed, a heavy futon draped over your achey, chilled body. “I’m really sorry,” you croaked into the receiver. “I can’t get out of bed; there’s no way I’ll be able to come into work today.”

“You know how important tonight’s meeting is.”

You could feel the fire in the eyes of your underboss as he spat at you about how important tonight’s festivities were. You couldn’t care less. You hated the guy, but more importantly you hated your father for getting you in this mess.

A debt needed to be paid and your family couldn’t afford to take out a second mortgage on the house. So your father, as smart as he thought he was, went to the nicest restaurant on the far side of town where the boss of one of the most dangerous mobs in the city stationed his office.

A debt for a debt. That’s what he told you as he came home smiling with a big check in his wallet. No one in your family knew where he got the money, but he seemed confident enough that he’d be able to pay it back.

A month went by and one day, three scary men knocked on your apartment door. They said they were there to “collect”.

You were terrified. You thought they were there to rob you, to take the money you had been saving in a rainy-day fund. But no, they came to collect you. Now, it’s been four months and you’re still stuck doing odd jobs for them--grocery and coffee runs as well as spending reports and other money related things you are less than qualified to do.

You hate your job. You hate having to put up with the unorthodox hours and the unsavory jobs and the complaints about your work ethic and the having to do it over again because you didn’t do it right the first time. You want out. If you weren’t positive that if you left they would be able to hunt you down, you would have fled the country by now.

But your father’s debt still hasn’t been paid.

“Look,” you pleaded. “I can come in tomorrow and work double my usual time. Please, Kirishima-san, I just need the day to rest.”

“Not a chance. You’re coming in today and that’s final. If you don’t, well, then maybe we need to take an extra payment from your parents.”

Before you could even process what he just said, he hung up the phone.

Another payment from your parents. You couldn’t possibly let them take any more from your family. With a new threat looming over your head, you mustered up enough strength to push off of your futon and get dressed for the clients’ dinner.

By the time it was 7:00 in the evening, you had taken a large swig of cold medicine and were ready to spend the night serving these criminals.

Outside of the restaurant, two bodyguards were stationed at the front door and one at the back entrance. All three of them were dressed in black from head to toe. You, on the other hand, were tasked with serving your boss’s clients, so your outfit differed from theirs.

You were dressed in attire suited for waiting tables. Black slacks stretch across your legs and your pristine shirt was smoothed against your body. A tight black vest clung to your chest and pressed against your boobs, squishing them together. If it weren’t for the fever, chills, and headache, you would look like you belonged with this crowd of criminals.

You flashed your ID to the guard at the back door and he nodded you in. Your eyes had to adjust to the fluorescent kitchen lighting, but once they did you saw how busy everyone was. It truly was one of the most important nights for your boss, so you understood why you were needed. Still, this night would truly take the most out of you.

“Oi, (L/n),” one of your boss’s associates called for you. “Take these to table four. I’ve been covering your ass for the last twenty minutes.”

“Of course, Kaminari-san.” You bowed your head and skirted over to the table where two well-dressed men spoke with one another in a hushed tone. You placed their meals in front of them and bowed your head.

“Wait,” one of them called as you began to walk away. “I asked for a Jasmine tea. This is Sencha.”

“Yeah,” the other one piped up. “And I asked for a Sencha tea and this is Jasmine.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to yell into the abyss and slap those men across the face. But of course all you did was bow in apology and take the cups back. Kirishima’s words to you over the phone rang loud and clear in your mind.

“Anything they need, you get it for them. These are important people the boss works with and we can’t have idiots like you messing this up for us.”

The men smirked at you and as you turned around to grab their “correct orders,” the man who ordered the Jasmine tea leaned over to leave a hard, painful smack across your ass.

You froze but didn’t say anything and walked away.

It was still early in the night but you had run yourself thin. You needed to sit down or to at least take a sip of water, but there was no room for breaks as you bounced from table to table getting the people what they wanted. You had even left the venue a couple times to retrieve items like the proper creamer one client required in their coffee.

Your throat was so sore and dry and it was aching for a break. Your entire body was aching for a break. But as you saw someone sitting at one of the tables raise her hand to wave you over, you had to put all of your aches aside to tend to her needs.

“Good evening, ma’am.” You bowed your head. “How may I assist you?”

A small smile was on her dark red painted lips. She seemed to be searching for something as she eyed you up and down. “Do you happen to know when Bakugou-san will be joining us?”

Bakugou-san… Were you supposed to know who that is? You had never heard the name before, although you knew your boss had many ties throughout the district. It could be one of them.

“I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I could ask my supervisors if they happen to know.”

She waited a moment. She seemed to be searching for something in your expression. “That’s all right. You may go back to work now.”

You bowed and thanked her.

Bakugou-san.

The name did sound familiar, but you’re not sure where you could have heard it. It wasn’t until you were deep in thought, trying to recall where you had heard the name, that you could feel something pushing up against your throat. Oh god. Your stomach was churning.

You ran to the bathroom, pushing someone out of the way to get there. You’d probably hear an earful from Kirishima for pushing a guest, but you needed to find a toilet before--

Oh no.

You barely made it into the stall before emptying the contents of your stomach onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. Your legs collapsed from under you and you kneeled in your vomit as you coughed up your stomach lining into the porcelain bowl.

Tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breathe while hacking everything you had into the toilet. The black eyeliner you threw on before leaving the house had smudged into raccoon eyes around your lashes.

You rested your cheek against the toilet, ignoring all of the germs that were most likely crawling up your skin and into your pores. The toilet seat felt cool against your burning cheek and watering eyes. You thought you could die happily here, kneeling on the bathroom tiles in a pile of your slowly cooling vomit.

“Aren’t we supposed to be working here?”

Your eyes shot open, and in trying to stand up you slipped. Your ass landed in the smeared vomit. You winced and let out a drawn out, “fuuuck.”

It took you a moment before opening your eyes again and looking up at the man in front of you. And boy did your eyes widen. He was clearly a guest at the clients’ dinner. His blonde hair was slicked back and the bulge of his muscles under his crisp black button down didn’t go unnoticed by you. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms and as he crossed his arms over his chest, his sleeves began to tighten.

“Who the hell are you and why are you puking on the floor?”

It took you a second to find your voice. “I’m, um...” you trailed off. “(L/n), sir.” You cleared your throat. “I am a worker for the person hosting this dinner.” You tried to stand up and bow, but he put a hand up to stop you.

“You work for them.” It was a statement not a question, but you nodded anyway. “Why? What do you owe?”

You’re not sure why he was asking, but his intimidating glare compelled you to answer his every question. “My dad owes them money,” you admitted. “And he wasn’t able to pay them back.”

“Who do you mean by them?”

You weren’t sure how to answer. You didn’t even know what these people did. For all you knew they were drug mules or assassins. You never wanted to know what they did when you were roped in. After all, the less you knew meant you could have more of a normal life. “The boss,” you finally answered. Who the boss was, you weren’t sure. You answered to Kirishima but he didn’t have much power aside from ordering around you and every other person unfortunate enough to be roped into working for them.

The man in front of you scoffed. “Get up.”

You scrambled to your feet, ignoring the wave of nausea that hit you. The man led you out of the bathroom, and as you walked behind him, people who passed the two of you stopped and stared. Oh no, it had to be from the vomit stains on your leg and down your shirt. You probably stank to high hell and your eyes wouldn’t stop watering from your fever.

The man stopped and you had to keep from bumping into him. “There’s an extra work shirt in the closet,” he said. “There should also be some slacks in there. Leave your dirty clothes in a pile and I’ll have someone collect them.”

His voice was demanding and it took you a moment to register what he said. It wasn’t until he snapped in your face that you moved.

“We don’t have all day, princess.”

You flinched and nodded before scurrying into the closet and flicking the light on. Inside the closet was the restaurant’s sad excuse for a boiler room. The low humming from the machinery brought you back into the present as you searched for the change of clothes you were promised.

There was a crisp white shirt folded on one of the shelves as well as a few different slacks in varying sizes. The shirt was a size too small, so you had to leave the first couple buttons popped open. Before leaving the closet, you tried to think about who the man was and why he was helping you. Was it possible that he wanted something in return?

When you emerged from the closet, he looked you up and down. You were too tired, however, to notice his lingering glare on your chest and the way the button down squeezed your breasts closer together.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes. You’re not sure why you were too scared to look into his vermillion eyes, but the way he called you princess earlier as he snapped at you had definitely made you tremble in your core, and you swore that if you looked up to meet his eyes, your fever would only go higher and higher.

“Why the hell’d you come here if you were sick anyway? Are you trying to poison everyone in the damn building?” His words were like little bullets that shot at every one of your doubts of coming in tonight.

You thought back to why you had come in the first place. You were huddled up in your futon that morning when Kirishima called. You begged to stay home, right? But you couldn’t. You squinted hard as you tried to remember why you weren’t allowed to rest. “I was threatened,” you thought out loud. It wasn’t directed towards the man but he nodded in any case.

“(L/n) was it, right?”

You finally managed to look up at him with bleary eyes. “Yeah, um...” You couldn’t seem to remember what his name was. Wait, he hadn’t told you. He had just led you around and given you new clothes, but he never properly introduced himself.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he said as if he could read your mind. His lips turned up into a smirk. “But call me Katsuki.”

“Katsuki,” you mumbled. “Bakugou Katsuki.” You had heard that name before, but where. “Bakugou,” you mumbled again as if you were trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. “Bakugou-san.”

He quirked an eyebrow up at you.

“Oh!” It hit you like a ton of bricks and as soon as you shot up, you had to recoil because of the ache in the back of your neck. “There’s a woman looking for you, Bakugou-san, er, Katuki,” you bowed.

He just chuckled. “There’s a lot of people looking for me tonight. Who was it?”

That’s a good question. You squinted as if you were looking deep into your memories to remember who it was who asked for him. “She was a woman,” you remembered. “With long dark hair and dark red lips.”

Katsuki nodded. “I see the Yaoyorozus are here.”

The Yaoyorozus. You weren’t sure what that could mean but you didn’t feel like questioning it, so you nodded instead.

Katsuki was looking down at you. His arms were crossed over his chest but a smirk that had been playing across his face all night wouldn’t seem to go away. “Feeling better?”

You didn’t feel better. Although you felt cleaner in the new clothes, there was still a throbbing in your head that wasn’t going away and the overhead lights made your eyes water. But the way that Katsuki looked at you like he was expecting you to say yes just drew you in.

He could tell that the way you nodded a yes in response to his question was a lie, and his face fell before pushing a hand up to your forehead, checking your temperature. “Have you taken anything today?”

You had to think back to earlier that day when you brought the bottle of cold medicine up to your lips, not even reading the recommended dose before downing what you could and leaving your home. “Yeah, um, I took some medicine.”

The grin that had been spread across Katsuki’s face returned. “Well I guess we’ll have to get you some more.”

He grabbed your wrist and led you through the halls and over to the bar. You didn’t pay attention to where you were going. The world seemed to be going too fast for you to keep up. What you were able to notice was that everyone’s eyes were on you as you gently swayed back and forth, trying to settle yourself down. As you were in your own head, you couldn’t start to picture what everyone else saw when they looked at you. You with your raccoon eyes due to streaky makeup that you couldn’t stop rubbing.

“Here.” Katsuki shoved a glass in your face. “Not necessarily traditional medicine but it’ll get the job done.”

You looked up at the whiskey glass in his hand. The ‘medicine’ was a deep brown color which swirled around as he handed it to you. Your fingers brushed against his thick ones as you took the glass. You lifted it up to your nose and took a deep breath in, gagging at the smell. “Um, I don’t think I should.” You had been warned about mixing alcohol with drugs and the dangers that came with it, but no one had ever told you not to mix drinks with cold medicine. Still, that couldn’t be right, right?

“Come on, it’s good for you,” he egged you on. “Besides, it’ll get that nasty taste out of your mouth.”

You had never tried whiskey before. You were used to lighter drinks, something bubbly with a shot of vodka or two in it. But this was almost too much. You lifted the glass up to your lips and tilted it back. Your lips stung as they made contact with the drink, but you didn’t want to seem weak to Katsuki. He’d taken care of you so far and seemed pleasant enough, albeit intimidating.

As you tipped it back further and took more of the drink into your mouth, Katsuki pushed his hand against the bottom of the glass so you couldn’t tear it away, making sure you would drink every last drop. It stung going down and the cubes pressing against your lip were colder than you expected. You gagged as a couple loose tears rolled down your face from the drink’s burning sensation. You bet you looked even more of a mess now.

“Good girl,” Katsuki said with a low demeanor. With his thumb, he wiped away a drop of whiskey that rolled down your chin.

“And this’ll make me feel better?” You didn’t think you were supposed to drink when you were sick, but you were far too tired to even think about what was wrong and what was right. If he said that it’d make you feel better, then that had to be a good thing. You’re sure of it.

“Sure will.” He placed a firm, calloused hand on your head and stroked down your hair. You nuzzled into his warmth.

It was such a nice sensation that it almost made you forget that you were supposed to be working. That there were people waiting on you to bring them their food and fetch their creamer, people who were ready to slap your ass and laugh as soon as you turned away.

“I have a,” you started, not really sure where that sentence was going. “I have to go back to work.”

As you began walking away, Katsuki stopped you, pulling you back over so your face was practically pressed up against his chest. “No you don’t. You’re sick, remember?”

Right, as if you hadn’t forgotten. But he was right. You were sick and your medicine hadn’t kicked in yet. You couldn’t risk spreading your germs and getting anyone else sick.

You watched the dinner guests from afar. You leaned in to hear conversations about hitmen and other rivaling mobs around town. Some were about money laundering and clients that needed to be taken out, whatever that meant.

At one point, someone asked to pull Katsuki aside and talk alone, but instead he just pulled you closer.

“The hell do you want, Yoarashi?”

Yoarashi was a big guy, bigger than Katsuki, but it was clear even to you that he was intimidated by the blonde in front of him.

“You owe me for what I let you borrow last month.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

To you, they sounded like they were underwater and you weren’t sure what they were discussing, but you were curious to learn more.

“Come on, Bakugou. Work with me here.”

“I’m a busy man, Yoarashi. Now get out of my face before I have my men take care of you.”

Something about the raw power and the threatening tone behind Katsuki’s voice made you excited. You wanted to melt into his words, but you weren’t sure why.

“Busy man?” Yoarashi scoffed. “Come on, Bakugou. You’ve barely been seen all night. Where have you been, fucking this little lackey of yours?”

He didn’t mean you, did he? Before you could even comprehend what he just insinuated, Katsuki turned you around and pressed your face up against his chest. You could feel yourself growing even hotter as you were pushed into one of his pectorals. One of his hands cupped the back of your head. Was he protecting you?

“Listen here,” you heard him say. “Don’t contact us ever again unless you want to end up like your first boss did. I can make your life a living hell and I will, got that?”

“Don’t think I don’t have other contacts, all right? You aren’t the only one in this town with resources, Bakugou.”

You felt something jab into the other side of Katsuki’s chest. Did Yoarashi hit him? A few seconds went by before you heard the snapping of fingers and two men came over to drag Yoarashi away.

Katsuki released the hold he had on you, and you watched as the tall man struggled out of his hold. “You aren’t gonna tell anyone what you saw here tonight, right princess?”

You shook your head. You weren’t sure what exactly you felt when you saw that man being dragged away. You were scared, of course; scared for your own life and of the raw power that Katsuki seemed to hold. But on top of fear there was something else. There was a tingle between your thighs that wouldn’t seem to go away, and there was also a sense of excitement. Out of all the people here, this man was paying attention to you. You were far from Mafia material, but he clearly saw something in you and you wanted more of his gaze lingering on you.

Your mind felt hazy with Katsuki and you wanted even more. You didn’t know what to do when you felt him smooth his hand down your back. You didn’t know what to do when his usual smirk turned into something much more dangerous. And you didn’t know what to do when he leaned over and pressed his lips against your own.

His lips felt heavenly as they explored you. They were soft and welcoming despite his cold and dangerous exterior. His tongue probed its way into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and something else which you assumed was just him. He bit your lip and it felt like he smiled when you let out a moan.

When he released, you felt as if the whole world was spinning with Katsuki. You wobbled around a bit and he chuckled. You tried asking if you could sit down, but the words refused to come out. The last thing you remember is seeing the world go black, the sound of the clients’ dinner fading out of earshot, and two strong arms carrying you away from reality.

You were in pain by the time you woke up. Your body, especially your head, ached tremendously and you wished the sun would stop shining so bright through your window. But wait, the window in your bedroom at your apartment faced another building. The sun never shined too bright in the morning when you were at home.

Slowly, you peaked your head out from under the covers and looked around. You weren’t in your bedroom, but you were in a bedroom. The bed you had been asleep in was enormous, but aside from that there was not much else furniture in the room or even any pictures to signify who the room could belong to.

It wasn’t until you sat up that you realized just how exposed you were under the covers. You couldn’t find your clothing anywhere. What were you even wearing last night? Where were you last night?

You remembered being sick and being called into work by Kirishima. You were stressed. You were nauseous. There was a beautiful woman who asked for someone in particular but you were too sick to remember what their name was, right?

And then you raced to the bathroom and met--

A groan from beside you shook you out of your thoughts, and as soon as you saw the person lying in bed next to you, all of your memories came flooding back.

“Morning, baby girl,” Katsuki said.

You didn’t know what to say. Your mouth hung open and you felt lightheaded.

Katsuki was shirtless under the covers and you were too scared to ask if he had anything on covering his lower half. “You put on quite the show last night.”

Last night. Where you met him. What did you do last night? “I...” You didn’t know what to say, and that made Katsuki let out a booming laugh.

“Come on, you remember at least a little of it don’t you?”

You shook your head. Then you shook your head again. You couldn’t stop shaking your head.

Katsuki put a hand on your shoulder and you stopped. He had a shit eating grin spread across his face that you wanted to both punch and kiss at the same time. “First throwing up at my party and then getting blackout drunk in front of all my guests.”

“What?” You could barely remember anything. What did he mean ‘his party’? The clients’ dinner was run by…

Your eyes widened as you realized just who you had found yourself naked in bed with. Who had found you puking on the bathroom floor. Who that stunningly gorgeous woman was asking for earlier.

You clamped a hand over your mouth and Katsuki let out another chuckle. “You really were the life of the party.” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you over to his side of the bed, and you let him. He dragged his hand up and down your exposed body and roughly cupped your sex. “I had a blast toying around with you last night, but now I want you to be able to remember what it feels like when I bury my cock inside of you, sweetheart.”

You hated the way he was grabbing you and the way he forced your legs to open up for him, but what you hated more than any of that was the way his words made your inner thighs ache and how they instinctively parted just for him.

You turned away as he leaned down to smother your chest with rough kisses, and as you looked over to your left hand, you couldn’t help but notice a diamond ring that wasn’t there the night before.

[recklessmark]

mine

—when the bodyguard your dad hired is your long lost rival.

Pairings: bodyguard Mark x mob-boss Reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: unprotected sex (be safe!), dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex, spanking, slut shamming, orgasm denial, mark is possessive but cute at the end.

The sounds of your heels clicking against the ground filled up the silent patio. You stormed into your house after receiving a text from your dad, basically demonstrated that he had sent you a new bodyguard since your job had been getting more intense lately. This should be the umpteenth guard that your dad hired, how are they supposed to protect you when every time you get into trouble, they can’t even take care of themselves.

You locked the door, kicking your shoes off before walking inside. Noticing a figure of a man sitting on the couch, you frowned. One hand holding the gun holster, the other finding the light switch. But they immediately fell onto your mouth when the man in question himself turned around due to the sudden light in the room. Your eyes went widen, still not believed in what you saw. He stood up, a coy smirk displayed on his face as he slowly approached you.

“You miss me?”

You looked him up and down, confirming that you were not dreaming, “M-Mark Lee? You’re alive?”

Your back is against the wall as Mark pressed his body on you, your faces were an inch away from each other. You’re babbling, dying to know how it’s possible for your long lost rival, Mark Lee, revitalized from his death and now standing in your house. Mark had been on the back of your head since the day you heard the news of his death from a combat. Apparently you’re supposed to hate him but that period of time was the darkest of your life, you practically couldn’t live without him.

He leaned in, his nose was brushing yours, “If I knew my appearance can earn that reaction from you, I would accept the job offer sooner.”

You tensed under his muscular body, his face plastered with arrogance. You squinted your eyes at him, “So you’re the body guard that my dad hired?”

Mark nodded, “Didn’t know that my death make your career path a lot easier. You’re the boss now huh?”

You pushed him away, you needed to go since you’re melting into his touch and that’s definitely not a good sign. You fixed your clothes before walking away.

“You can sleep on the couch or in the room next to the balcony. We’re going to the estate tomorrow.”, you called behind your back, “And don’t even think about breaking into my room at midnight.”.

You remembered that time you saw Mark sitting in front of your house with blood everywhere. You did let him stay at your place since he was terribly injured with two bullets in his shoulder and a gash on his ribs. He was super lucky to magically survive after that much damage, and you thought you could be a surgeon that you were phenomenally able to save him with some basic medical skills. Mark stayed with you for two weeks and literally broke into your room every night despite of your death threats and the locks on your door that you only bought because of him. You pathetically had no sleep at that time, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully when your hot enemy was pressing his chest against your back. You sighed, Mark Lee is the first bodyguard you didn’t kick out on the first day and the only bodyguard you let staying at your place.

—

You’re questioning yourself about the faith you put in Mark, your used-to-be enemy, that you actually allowed him to be your bodyguard and now you’re guiding him to your estate. What if he’s preparing for a terrorization?

“So why did you fake your death?”, you asked, only loud enough for him to hear clearly.

Mark glanced at you as he’s trying to find the perfect vocabulary for the situation, “The boss thought I’m a threat to the gang so they attempted to kill me many times, unsuccessfully though.”

“That you’ll murderer that coward and replace him? What in the mysterious novel is this?”, you laughed almost choked on your spit.

Everyone eyes landed on you and Mark when you stepped inside the building, the faint smile on your lips had soon faded away. They respectfully greeted you as you made your way to the office.

“What are you involved with?”

You heard him question when you’re in the elevator. Your fingers tapped on your lips,

“Pharmaceuticals”

“Drugs”

You darted your eyes at him as the word fell out of his mouth. “God, I’m trying to make it sound legal, no need to say it out loud like that.”, you gave him a warning look before continued talking.

“Automotive recovery and repair”

“Grand theft auto”

You’re not bothered to yell at Mark or whatsoever, as if he hadn’t done all that things.

“Defense trading”

“Selling illegal weapons”

You stopped a bit, looking at the number on the monitor screen of the elevator.

“And contract execution.”

The elevator was finally on the highest floor, which only has your office and the meeting room. You stopped at your track when you see a gap on your office door, you always remember to lock it up before going home, except it’s...

“Y/N!”

You almost passed out, you should’ve mentioned that you totally hate surprises. How do people find it’s funny when they scare the fuck out of somebody?

“Lee Haechan? When did you get here?”

You lost your balance when Haechan jumped on you for a hug, “Last night.”

You fumbled on your feet as the weight on you hardened your breathing. “God, do you always have to cling on me like that?”

His arms wrapped around your waist, he rested his head on the crook of your neck as he noticed the man that had been standing at the door frame.

“Who’s this? You better not cheat on me!”

You frowned, pushing Haechan away, “Cheat your ass! He’s my bodyguard.”, you turned around to look at Mark.

“Hey, you should go check the new people. If they mess up, I’ll kick your ass.”

You asked Haechan to leave before he continued making something up. You don’t know why he has a thing for pretending to be your boyfriend, sometimes cousin or even worse is step brother. He always knows how to get you into trouble and never take responsibility for that. You don’t know how come he’s your best friend and your assistant.

You locked the door after he already left, not care about Mark still froze at his space. You sat down, reorganized the stacks of papers on your desk.

“He’s your boyfriend?”

Your eyes flew up only for you to see that Mark was hovering over you, his hands pressed on the desk.

You looked back down, “Why would you care?”

He remained silent, you shrugged, unbothered by his question. Neither the two of you broke the silence first until you completed all the work, it’s already night time outside. You glanced at Mark, who’s sitting on the couch next to the window with his gaze focused on you. You flustered, wondering if he had been like that for 4 hours straight since you came to work after lunch.

“Let’s go.”

—

You’re walking to your car in the parking lot when someone familiar drew your attention.

“Jaehyun!”

You hollered while running towards the man. He caught you in his arms as you peck on his cheeks, which was not become unnoticed by Mark. He recognized the man, Mark had a few combats with him before.

You noticed the expression on Jaehyun’s face changed lightly when his gaze shifted. You knew what’s it about.

“He’s the bodyguard my dad hired, I’ll explain but I have to leave now okay?”

You gave him a small kiss on his lips before turning around, pulling Mark with you.

—

“Get out!”

Mark snarled when he finally pulled up in the garage. He walked out, leaving you confused in the car. Did he just yell at you? You gasped as the door beside you flung opened, he recklessly took off your seat belt before pulling you into the house.

“What the hell Mark?”

You asked when he pressed you against the door, still could not comprehend what’s happening.

“Shut up!”

He groaned into your ear, his head was on the crook of your neck, you squirmed as his hair tickled you.

“Have you done flirting with every man you meet? You want to be a slut so bad don’t you? You want Jung Jaehyun to fuck you right? And either whoever the man in your office was!”

Your body tensed under his, his breath hit your skin giving you some feelings. Both of your hands attempted to push Mark away by his shoulder but he didn’t move an inch. He left your neck to face you, his eyes gave you death stare.

“Mark take a fucking breath, okay?”, you muttered out. His eyes were still boring holes into you as you continued, “Haechan is my assistant and Jaehyun”, you stop, “I like him.”

“That jackass? That? Him?”

You frowned, “He’s not a jackass.”, you debated.

Mark grabbed you around the waist, “He doesn’t ever touch you again. Understand?” His tone was venomous. “You’re mine.”

You stood in silence as your brain functioning his words. His proximity to you was turning the heat in your veins from anger into something else.

“Oh yeah, Mark? I’m yours?”

“Mine.” His face was mere inches from yours.

You narrowed your eyes. “Fucking prove it, then, asshole.”

He tightened his grip around your waist and practically threw you onto the couch. You turned and tried to crawl away but he pulled you back down, forcefully, and slammed his hips into your ass. You could feel his erection straining against his trousers as he ground into you. You braced your hands on the couch as he kicked your legs apart and shoved your dress up around your waist.

“You want me to fucking prove it?”

He cupped your ass in his hands and squeezed hard before ripping off your lace panties and throwing them on the floor. One hand snaked around your waist to keep you from escaping while the other ran along your slit. Mark placed his finger in his mouth tasting you groaning lowly and then pulled it out with a pop. He kneeled down and ran his tongue along your slit before digging in. His tongue circling your clit before darting into your hole then going back. You moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the couch as you felt your orgasm fast approaching.

"M-Mark..." you whimpered as your legs started to shake. He groaned against you as he kept going, the vibrations making your mind go blank. "I-I-I'm... I'm go-gonna..."

He pulled away in a moment, leaving you undone. You whined, desperate to come. Instantly his hand came out and wrapped around the back of your neck pulling you close to him and smashing his lips into yours in a sloppy kiss, his tongue dominated yours as you can taste yourself on it. His other hand ran up your thigh until it reached your ass and he gripped a cheek roughly causing you to moan out.

“Do you think you deserve to cum? You acted like a slut so I treat you like one.”

He started to kiss and bite along your neck stopping every so often to leave some marks. You heard the metallic click as it was unfastened and then his zipper as he freed his cock. Then, in one motion, he slammed into your cunt.

“How about this, huh? Do you like my cock inside you?”

You gritted your teeth and nodded, Mark smacked your ass, hard. “Answer me, goddamnit. Do you like my cock inside you?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Say it.” He began a slow but punishing rhythm, pistoning into you as hard as he could. “Fucking say it, Y/N.”

“Yes–Mark....” He punctuated each of your words with a deep thrust. “I – like – your – cock – inside – me – ”

“You like it when I fuck you hard?” he growled as he began to speed up.

“Yes… yes… oh God, yes,” you moaned, giving yourself over to the pleasure.

“You filthy fucking slut… you like it when I fuck your pussy from behind like this?”

“Yes! Mark, yes!” you could feel your climax already approaching as Mark reached down to rub your swollen clit with his hips slamming into you nonstop.

“Are you mine, Y/N?” he roared.

“Yes, Mark, I’m yours!”

With that, your orgasm tore through you, your back arching as your body pulsed around him. You had barely come down from your high when leaned over, “You should be grateful that I let you cum. Turn around, dirty girl. I want your mouth.”

Mark pulled out of you and you turned around kneeling in front of him, still feeling boneless. He grasped your hair and you let your jaw drop open; he bucked his hips forward and you could taste yourself on his cock. You sucked him greedily as he thrust forward.

He groaned as he emptied himself into your mouth; you swallowed everything Mark gave you before slowly licking him clean. He fell flopped himself onto the couch, shaking from the force of his release, before wrapping his arm around your naked body.

For a few long minutes, the only sound was your labored breathing as you tried to recover.

“Do you actually like Jaehyun?”

Mark mumbled but loud enough for you to hear, his breath was still heavy.

You leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, your legs curled up, pressing against your bare chest. “Yes, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

His hand brushed your hair comfortably, “Why?”

“Didn’t you just claim me like two minutes ago? You can’t change your mind.”, Mark couldn’t help but giggled, he pressed his chin on your head. “Since when you have feelings for me?”, you looked up only to see his sharp jawline, his signature scent filled up your nostrils.

“I don’t know dude, may be that time when you held a dull dagger on my throat or when you attempted to shoot me with no bullet loaded in the gun.”

You slapped his arm playfully, “That was an accident!”

The room went into silence again, your eyes stared into the city outside of the wall of windows.

“Do you know when I figured out my feelings?”

Mark traced your fingers with his thumb, waiting for your answer. “I kissed Jaehyun because it’s the last kiss, I thought you don’t care.”, you intertwined your hand with his, “But I know you’re my everything the moment you I saw you sitting here, that my long lost hot rival is alive.”

©️  DREAMYKRAM. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[griffintail]

Okay this is just a small thing that you don't have to do, just an idea but like. What do you think their reactions would be to wolf hybrid!Child reader going Rabid on a skeleton that tried to hurt their dad.

I hope you enjoy! ♥

In Game, Reader is 10

Pairings:  Platonic! Parental! Tommy, Wilbur, Philza, Technoblade, Eret, and Dream x F! Child! Wolf Hybrid! Reader

Warnings: Fighting of Mobs

        TommyInnit

        Hyped

        Tommy loved bringing (Y/N) everywhere he went, much to everyone’s dismay her whole life.

        Their dismay lessened once (Y/N) was able to actually learn how to fight. With her added perks of being part wolf and her father being a decent fighter, she wasn’t half bad for only being ten.

        Today, the pair were out trying to get (Y/N) her first disc. Sure, she had her father’s she shared with him but she wanted her own, which made Tommy so proud of her. Together they struck out into the world and went searching for a few ruined temples and such.

        “We only got a few diamonds so far.” (Y/N) huffed, her ears flat on top of her head after they searched their third temple.

        “None of that now!” Tommy tried to cheer her up. “It took me ages to find my first disc. We’ll find one for you. And having a few diamonds isn’t too bad either! We can use them to try and scam a few items from people.”

        (Y/N)’s tail wagged at her father’s words. “Yeah! We’ll find one! And if you’re going to do more scams with Uncle Tubbo can I join?”

        “Of course! That’s the spirit!” He ruffled her hair between her ears as they went to find a new place to loot.

        Night was slowly creeping up on them when they found a new abandoned building.

        “Alright, it’s dark inside and it’s late. So, get your shield and sword ready.” Tommy told her.

        She nodded, taking her shield off her back as Tommy went in first, shield up and sword at the ready. Following in after him with her shield, her ears twitched as she listened. Tommy walked forward when (Y/N) heard the pulling off a bow. Before she could warn him, Tommy yelped as an arrow snagged his bandana and tore it as it went by.

         He whipped around to defend himself when (Y/N) snarled, launching herself into the skeleton.

        The monster was barely able to hold itself together and got no chance to respond to the attack as the child used her sword to cut off its head. Tommy stood in surprise as (Y/N)’s ears twitched and her tail straight as she growled tearing the rest of the bones apart.

        “Holy shit!” He exclaimed finally, (Y/N) jumping as she looked at him. “That was fucking awesome!”

        She knelt on the ground for a moment with a bone in her hand, watching him before grinning and her tail wagged quickly.

        “Really?”

        “Of course! My training for you has really worked!” He grinned as helped her up. “Let’s go own more shit!”

        “Yeah!” She bounced putting the bone in her hand in her bag to gnaw on later.

        Tommy had her listen first this time and together they took out any other mobs.

        In the end, Tubbo screamed as Tommy slammed his door open with (Y/N) on his shoulders, practically howling while holding a disc in celebration. It was just an average adventure.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Wilbur

        Worried but proud

        Oh look, Wilbur has another animal child, who would be surprised?

        After the war, L’Manberg had become a mostly peaceful nation. (Y/N) didn’t need to learn how to fight like her brother so he let her instead enjoy her other passions.

        It very much pleased Wilbur though that his little girl always still wanted to spend time with him. One of those days, the pair had been outside the walls. Wilbur had brought his guitar, strumming as he sang, while (Y/N) ran around to get her extra energy. The father hadn’t expected the storm clouds to roll in so fast but they did.

        The rain started to pour, (Y/N) screaming as she clung onto Wilbur as thunder boomed.

        “It’s alright little star.” He assured her as he quickly got up, putting his guitar on his back. “Let’s get back home.”

        She clung to his hand as they sprinted for the path and went for L’Manberg. He had carelessly not brought a weapon as he hadn’t expected to be out when monsters could come out. So, when a skeleton was in the path, he halted to a stop, looking for a quick escape before it noticed them.

        “This way—” Wilbur tugged (Y/N)’s hand but his eyes went wide as the arrow flew past his head. “Shit!”

        Before he knew it, (Y/N) had let go of his hand. He was too busy looking for a weapon to defend himself and his child when he noticed (Y/N) attacking the skeleton.

        “(Y/N)!” He yelped in panic as he rushed forward.

        Even without any experience, just pure instinct to protect her pack, she managed to take apart the skeleton. Wilbur pulled her from it, her big eyes looking at him with a bone in her mouth. She sat there for a moment before her eyes went wide, the bone dropping.

        “I’m sorry daddy!”

        Wilbur didn’t know what to say for a moment, the thunderclap breaking him from his thoughts as (Y/N) screamed, clinging onto him again. He took a new approach and scooped her up before sprinting instead for the Embassy. Tommy wasn’t in, so they were able to slip in. The man sighed with relief to be out of the rain, putting (Y/N) down.

        She shook the water out of her hair as she swished her tail to do the same. Wilbur took off his guitar, jacket, and hat, laying the objects on a chest as he ruffled his hair.

        “Alright, let’s get your jacket off and find something to dry off with,” Wilbur said, going for the back room.

        “I’m really sorry daddy.” She spoke before he stepped through.

        He stopped, remembering what happened. He looked back at her, her ears pointed back as she stared down at the ground with her hands behind her back and her wet tail on the floor. Coming over, he knelt in front of her, taking her shoulders, having her look at.

        “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Wilbur told her, making one of her ears twitch. “You did good. I was extremely worried, yes. I was scared you would get hurt and I don’t want you to rush into danger again without a proper weapon, but I’m not angry or disappointed with you.”

        “I really did good?” She asked, her tail coming off the floor.

        “Yes, you did.” He smiled. “I’m proud you were able to think on your feet little star and protect us both. But, as I said, we’re not going to do that again without a weapon right?”

        “Yes sir, Mr. President.” She gave a giggle with a salute.

        He laughed as he kissed her forehead and ruffled her hair. “Now let’s get you dry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Philza

        Would have taught her more control, proud

        (Y/N) laughed as Phil held her securely to him as they soared through the sky from the village they had just traded at.

        “You having fun darling?” He smiled at her.

        “Yes!” She cheered, her ears twitching madly in the wind. “This so much more fun than walking!”

        He laughed himself as he nodded. “It is. Like I said though, I can’t do this long, we’ll probably have to walk the rest of the way home.”

        “Aw ok.” She frowned but instead smiled and decided to enjoy the moment.

        Phil had promised the young girl when she was old enough, he’d start taking her one trading expeditions after he trained her up a bit. He did tend to stay out for long periods of time after all and usually saw mobs. It had come to that time and Phil personally trained her. As Phil had taught all three of his sons, teaching his fourth child was no work and (Y/N) picked it up quickly. He also helped her work on her wolf instincts just as he had with Techno with his piglin ones.

        Of course, it was precautional training. He wasn’t going to let her fight mobs so easily. There was little to no chance she’d have to fight anything; Phil was a master at avoiding mobs and taking them out with ease as he only had one life left to his name and had to be extra careful.

        As night was starting to set in, Phil landed as his wings took as much as they could.

        “Alright, stay close to me darling.” He told her as he took off his shield and sword as a precaution.

        She nodded, her ears perked up and listening carefully to help her father as she had her own gear out. Together, they walked through the snow towards their home, Phil ahead of (Y/N) as she was close to his back. As they were close to the edge of their property, (Y/N)’s right ear twitched at the sound of a bowstring in the distance. Quickly, she turned and held up a shield in front of her father’s back, an arrow giving a loud THUNK as it hit the wood.

        Phil jumped at the noise, whipping around just as (Y/N) dashed forward and used her sword to strike the skeleton with ease. He rushed over as the skeleton tried to recollect itself and gave a final blow to it.

        “Come on,” Phil told her as her tail swished and she growled lightly. “We’re almost home.”

        She followed Phil again and from there they got home safely. He sighed in relief as he laid down his weapons, (Y/N) laying hers down beside him. Looking at his daughter, he patted her head between her ears smiling.

        “Good job kiddo. You really had my back.”

        Her tail wagged eagerly as she smiled. “I learned from the best.”

        He laughed as he nodded. “Guess you did. We got to work on you not rushing in head first though ok?”

        “Ok.” She nodded with determination.

        “That’s my little angel.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Technoblade

        Proud

        (Y/N) was the daughter of the Blood God!

        The second she could hold a sword on her own, she wanted to learn everything she could just to be like her father. Techno was glad to teach her as he wanted to make sure if his enemies ever found her, she could defend himself and he did tend to exploit her wolf abilities in some dangerous places, so not having to watch her constantly was good too.

        Today was any other day. A bit of training between the two, trading a bit with a village, minor terrorism in the Dream SMP land.

        “So, what did we learn today?” Techno asked as he led her across the bridge in the Nether to the home portal.

        “Grandpa doesn’t let us have fun?” She questioned as she looked at him.

        Techno threw back his head in laughter at that. Phil had convinced Techno not to do a few of his crimes, much to the pair’s disappointment.

        “I was looking for more we keep better track of our invisibility, but grandpa not letting us have fun is true too.” He grinned.

        (Y/N) wagged her tail as Techno went through the portal first, (Y/N) a few seconds behind. He frowned at the night sky, taking his axe off his belt as he saw a few scattered mobs in the snow.

        “Guess we were in the Nether too long,” Techno said. “Stay close to me. We’re going to make a run for the house.”

        “Ok.” She nodded as she took off her sword just as a precaution.

        “Three, two, one, go!” He told her before the two of them sprinted across the snow.

        They had piqued the interest of a few zombies but they were much too fast for them. As they got close to the house, an arrow snagged itself into Techno’s cape. He stopped and went to turn with a full axe swing but didn’t get the chance as a snarl filled the air. Looking, he saw (Y/N) slashing through the skeleton with ease then tore it apart with her own hands.

        He was impressed but there were mobs around. So, grabbing her by the arm, he dragged her away, forcing her to run with him again as she growled still at the now-dead skeleton.

        “Come on killer.” He told her with a proud smirk.

        “It tried to hurt you.” She huffed as they finally slowed down on the porch.

        “Yes, but what do we say?” He looked at her.

        “Technoblade never dies!” She threw up her arms with a grin and he smiled as well as he ruffled her hair as he opened the door.

        “That’s right. You did well out there, little goddess, we need to work on your form though and that was a bit overkill.”

        She pouted. “Ok.”

        He chuckled patting her head. “But I’m proud of you regardless.”

        That made her smile again as Techno took off his cape to fix it. As he did the voices were chanting.

        Blood Child! Blood Child! Blood Child!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Eret

        Worried

        (Y/N), as a wolf hybrid, had an excessive amount of energy that Eret was just not able to keep up with sometimes. So, he’d let her go off on her own with Tommy, the two usually able to work both of their excessive energy out without any possible danger as Eret made Tommy promise him.

        It had been one of those days and Eret was waiting by the castle gate, worry starting to seep into him as the sun was starting to set.

        “Damn it, Tommy.” He muttered under his breath before going back inside the castle for a moment.

        Coming back out and starting to walk down the path, now he had a sword strapped to his belt as he made his way to Tommy’s. As he got to the fenced area, he heard the sounds of (Y/N)’s laughter as Tommy was yelling out profanities. Going in and to the door, he knocked on Tommy’s door. Swinging it open, Tommy stood there with a scowl on his face.

        “You’re both late,” Eret told him.

        “Shit, is it really that late?” Tommy’s eyes went wide at the setting light. “I got to meet up with Wilbur!”

        He went back inside as (Y/N) came over, seeing her father, a guilty look on her face seeing the fading light.    

        “Sorry, dad.”

        “It’s alright sweetie. Let’s get home before it gets too dark. Stay safe Tommy!” He called as (Y/N) came to Eret’s side.

        The two walked down the Prime Path as the sun set full set.

        “You’re not mad?” (Y/N) asked.

        “No princess, I understand you were having fun. I was just worried and I knew I had to come to get you. Tommy’s a good fighter but I don’t think he could protect two people.” Eret explained calmly to her.

        “Well, I’m sorry I worried you.”

        “It’s alright, let’s just get home safe.” He smiled at her.

        The castle was just in sight, making Eret feel relief that they’d get there without seeing a single mob, but he jinxed himself. As they stepped out of the gate from the Community House, an arrow flew by his arm. He jumped in surprise, pulling his sword as he went to grab (Y/N) to pull her behind him, but only grabbed air.

        Looking around in a panic, he saw his little girl tackling the skeleton on instinct and starting to pull it apart with her hands.

        “Princess.” He said quickly as he went over and pulled her off the mob as she growled. “It’s alright. Calm down.”

        “It tried to hurt you!”

        “I understand sweetie, but you should have let me handle it alright?”

        She huffed but nodded. “Alright.”

        He helped her up and smiled as he ruffled her hair. “Thank you for being my knight instead princess but I promise I got it.”

        “Ok, dad.” She agreed as they went home to the castle without any more problems. “…can you teach me how to fight though?”

        “If you want to princess. We’ll figure it out.”

        “Thank you, dad.” She smiled.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    ��   Dream

         Proud but Worried

        “Got you!” (Y/N) howled as she tackled George, who in turn screamed.

        Dream laughed as he came over to them putting his wooden sword on George’s chest. They were playing a game of Manhunt and Dream had (Y/N) on his team naturally. With that, she was able to use her wolf senses to win with ease. Dream actually had to do very little but defend her. Sure, he trained her but there was a large training curve between her and everyone else.

        “We win again.” Dream told him.

        “This is no fair,” George whined. “(Y/N) can hear everything.”

        “You guys practically stomp around the forest.” (Y/N) grinned as she jumped up, her tail wagging rapidly.

        “Now don’t be too mean to your uncle.” Dream laughed, ruffling her hair.

        “I’m going to guess George lost too.” Sapnap came over to the group.

        “Dad and I are the best team!” (Y/N) threw up her hands, making Dream grin as he moved his mask from his face.

        “What told you? The scream?” Dream teased George now.

        George grabbed Dream, trying to tackle him but Dream managed to swing it back and pin George to the ground. The goggled man huffed at his second defeat as (Y/N) cheered.

        “Alright, let’s get home you two idiots.” Dream chuckled as he helped George up.

        The sun was close to setting and they were in the forest. The two other men agreed with Dream and everyone started walking.

        “Can we play again tomorrow?” (Y/N) asked Dream with eagerness, her tail still wagging.

        He laughed, nodding. “Sure. But why don’t you try and find me tomorrow with your uncles?”

        “But I like your team.” She pouted.

        “I’m honored sweetheart, but we have to make your uncles think they’re good too.” He whispered but loud enough for the others to hear.

        “Alright! You listen here Dream!” Sapnap stopped to argue with his friend, making Dream laughed.

        (Y/N) was giggling as the three were playfully arguing with each other but she frowned as her ear twitched hearing a sound in the forest. It sounded like…bones?

        Then she heard the bowstring and her eyes went wide.

        “Look out!” She shouted, startling everyone, giving them enough time to move as the arrow just flew past Dream’s face.

        “Holy shit!” Dream exclaimed in surprise.

        Before anyone could react, there was a snarl and the three saw the little girl tearing the skeleton apart.

        “Yo! You show it (Y/N)!” Sapnap cheered.

        “Shut up. Alright, sweetheart.” Dream came over, pulling her off. “You got it.”

        She huffed at the pile of bones before looking at her dad. “Are you ok daddy?”

        He smiled lightly as he nodded, patting her head as he crouched in front of her. “I’m fine, you warned me just in time.”

        “Good.” She grinned, her tail wagging.

        “But I don’t want you to do something like that again ok?” He looked at her seriously. “You got it, but you went way over of what you needed to.”

        She frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

        “It was dead, but you kept going. That’s serious stuff. Sapnap was wrong to encourage you. I’m proud you got it, but you need to keep your control, ok?”

        She nodded slowly. “Ok. I think I understand.”

        He smiled again, kissing the top of her head. “Good. Now let’s get home before anything else catches us.”

        With that, the four went home, pride definitely in his chest but he would make sure his daughter understood her anger.

[harryspet]

off to the races (2) s.rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stripper!reader, ddlg, daddy!steve, abduction/kidnapping, mafia boss steve, bondage, a hint of peter x reader, toxic/abusive relationship, hella angst, little editing 

A/N: im mentally shutting down because of school but at least i have mob!steve :)

In which you don’t want to be Daddy’s secret anymore.

word count: 3.5k

main masterlist

taglist: @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes​  @disaster-rose​​ @sexyxseabassx​ @marvelmaree​

“Woah, dude, your room is awesome. Awe, you have all the good movies. I haven’t seen The Jungle Book in forever!” 

“Peter, look!” You waved him over to the window, ignoring his astonishment for the paradise Steve had created for you. Peter stood there dumbly for a moment before walking over to the window beside your bed. 

You heard the loud whirring of helicopter spinning blades echoing through the room even with the window closed. It was landing in the field behind the manor and you were questioning why Steve was making such a grand entrance today. You’d been stuck in this house for three weeks now and nothing this exciting had happened yet, “Who’s helicopter is that?” You looked back at Peter who’d crossed his arm nervously. 

“Uhm … probably … maybe-” You scoffed, before looking back at the view. The helicopter was a sleek, black color and, as you narrowed, your eyes could make out some words written in gold. 

“Stuh …. Stark …. Industries. Stark Industries,” You were calm as you took in the info before the realization hit you, “Stark Industries! Is Tony Stark here? Holy …. pancakes.”

Peter smiled, seemingly amused by your excitement, “Pancakes?”

“Steve doesn’t like it when I-” You stopped yourself from explaining, realizing there was a bigger situation at hand, “We have to go check things out. Get a closer look!”

“No way,” Peter shook his head, “I’m here to make sure you stay in this room.”

You rolled your eyes, “So Tony Stark must be here then, right?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Peter pressed his lips together like he was struggling to hold in all the secrets he knew. 

“How the hell does Steve know Tony Stark? Stark is dirty too? I should’ve known … flipping rich people.”

“Flipping?”

You took a step toward him and despite the fact you were wearing a pair of fairy wings, he still seemed intimidated by you, “What do you want, huh? A raise?”

“Uhm … I don’t think you can do that … can you?”

“Of course I can. Steve is wrapped around my finger.”

Peter cocked an eyebrow, “But he’s Steve Rogers …”

“Look around this room for goodness sake! He does anything I want. If I tell him all about how you’re a great worker, how you’re a good friend to me, he’ll surely be appreciative. Might even give you a promotion and maybe you won't have to play babysitter anymore.”

He considers it just for a moment, “If he does anything you want then why are you locked in this house?”

“Fine, fine, so I don’t have complete control but I have some. I could be helpful to you in the future!” 

“Y/N, if something went wrong he’d probably chop me up into little pieces and send them to my Aunt. Or he’d chop up my aunt and make me watch … depends on the kinda mood he’s in.”

You stared back at him, trying not to let the look on your face falter, “ … I’ll give you my movie collection?” 

“I’m sorry but-”

“It’s my birthday soon?”

“I can’t,” Peter stated, sighing, “I’ve got pressure on me right now, and things have to go right tonight. It’s like a huge deal. I never get to go to stuff and the party is-” He stopped his rambling when he realized he’d said too much. 

“Party?” Peter opened his mouth and closed it again. He turned away from you, eyes wide, and made his way to the door. Of course, you chased after him, placing yourself between him and the door, “What party?”

“Please move,” Peter begged, “I really can’t talk about it.”

“I won’t say anything, I promise!” You were the one begging now, “He doesn’t tell me anything at all. Can you imagine how I’m feeling? I’ll do everything you say, I won’t try anything, I just want to know what's going on …. please?”

“Steve can’t know,” You nodded eagerly and he finally gave in, probably because of your spectacular puppy dog eyes, “Tony Stark is having a party tonight, that’s where Steve’s going, and most of us are going to. A pretty important deal is happening.”

“Why doesn’t Steve want me to go?” You frowned a bit.

“I don’t think he wants anybody to know about you, to keep you safe, that kind of thing.”

“Right,” You nodded, “Even if I go crazy while he does that.”

Peter looked sympathetic, “I’m sorry.”

“I know this thing with me and Steve is not ordinary but is it crazy of me to not want to be a secret? Even after everything …”

You could tell Peter wasn’t expecting a deep question nor did he expect you’d confide in him, “I don’t think so,” Peter was trying to understand, you could see it in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck as if he wasn’t sure, “Obviously … you - uhm - care about him. I wouldn’t want to be the secret of someone I care about.”

He was taken aback when you suddenly hugged him. Unsure if he could hug you back, he awkwardly patted your shoulder which made you giggle, “Can I paint your nails?”

“What? No.”

“I have colors that aren’t girly.” “Hmm … can you do cool stuff like the shapes and sparkles?”

“Of course,” You smiled, “Step into my salon.”

+

“I didn’t get my sticker this week,” You bounced back from your toes to your heels, watching Steve as he got ready in his closet. He was fixing his tie in the mirror, making sure it was absolutely perfect, along with the rest of the look. Freshly trimmed beard and an aftershave that smells intoxicating. He smelt like money and looked like it too. That’s probably exactly how you would want to look in front of Tony Stark. 

“You skipped dinner two days in a row, doll.”

You were frowning but it wasn’t like he was focused on you anyways, “But I did better after that,” You whined.

“I know, baby, you can try again next week.”

“Maybe if you were here then I wouldn’t have missed it,” You whispered, playing with your fingernails, “But I’m stuck here and you get to go out and have your fun.”

“Have my fun?” He questioned, buttoning up his jacket. 

“You get home so late … I’m sure you go to your clubs, booze it up and talk to girls.”

He chuckled a bit, “You think I’m flirting with other women?”

“I don’t think, I know,” You leaned against the doorway, “You’re a guy, aren’t you? That’s what you do.”

He finally turned to you, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. He was as handsome as ever, like a movie star, “Doll, my days are long because I’m traveling from here to the city every day. I want to fall asleep and wake up with you. There isn’t and never will be anyone who I’d rather do that with.” 

As he came closer, you knew he was going to lift you into his arms. Ever since he took you from the club and you sobbed into his shoulders, you’d find solace in his arms. Even if his hands were causing your hurting, they still felt warm and loving, “You don’t mean that,” You whispered, muffled against his shoulder. 

“What can I do to prove it to you?”

“Take me with you,” You said and you felt him stiffen. 

“It’s not safe,” He tried to explain. 

“Are you embarrassed by me?” 

“No, no,” He rushed out, carrying you out of the closet and into the bedroom. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Because of what I do, what I used to do-”

“No, Y/N. I’ve never felt that way,” His tone was more concerned that it ever had been before, “Look at me, please?”

Begrudgingly, you lifted your head. You hated that you were feeling jealous or inadequate, “You took care of yourself all these years and I know you still can,” He continued, “Let me protect you now.”

“I’m not a baby.”

Steve could sense the small bit of pride still left in you and decided not to push you on it anymore, “Could’ve fooled me,” Steve smiled slightly, bouncing you in his arms, “Let me tuck you in, grumpy.”

“The sun just set!” 

“It wasn’t actually a request,” He was already carrying you away. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” You resisted, “Can I sleep in here? I’ll go to sleep right away, I promise.”Steve stopped, thinking it over for a moment, “I like that the … sheets smell like you, Daddy,” You added, knowing that was what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t fully a lie but you had other motives for not wanting to go back to your room. For one, your room locked from the outside and his didn’t. Besides that, you were almost sure that one of your stuffed bears had a camera inside its eye. 

Steve tucked you into his california king-sized bed that night and watched you fall asleep until it was time for him to go. You felt the kiss he pressed to your forehead and, for a brief moment, you thought about changing your plans. 

That feeling didn’t last long. 

+

For such an expensive car, you thought your ride would be a lot smoother and much more comfortable. Turns out, hiding in any trunk, no matter how luxurious, behind big boxes of unknown items, was not a pleasant experience. An hour into the drive, you finally decided that you’d had enough and you needed to get the feeling back into your limbs. Besides that, you needed to check and make sure that your hair and makeup stayed in place. 

When you climbed over the seat from the trunk to the backseat, the car instantly swerved before the driver corrected its path, “Y/N, holy shit!” Peter shouted, obviously frightened out of his mind but you were focused on making sure all the layers of your dress made it safely back into their places, “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”

“Oh, calm down,” You said, looking at him through the rearview, “Just keep driving.”

“Are you out of your mind? If Steve sees you he’s going flip his shit!” 

“Peter, you okay in there, kid?” You heard Bucky’s staticky voice over Peter’s radio. The younger man picked it up and answered, his eyes still focused on you. 

You placed a finger over your lips and Peter gave you a death stare, “Yeah, I’m fine … I thought I saw a squirrel.”

A caravan of three cars surrounded Steve’s car as they all drove down this dark, winding road that you assumed would lead to Tony Stark’s mansion, “Did you not comprehend a single word I said?” Peter shouted, “Do you want me to get killed?”

“This is my problem,” You said, “Steve will know that you had nothing to do with it, I promise. But tonight is going to go super well so it won’t even matter. Steve is going to see me and realize he’s crazy not to show me off and then we’re going to go to the party and I’m going to charm everyone with my personality which is going to make him a ton of friends and even more money. Everyone wins.”

Peter was shaking his head the entire time as he listened to your rambling,  “Y/N, I understand that you want to be more to Steve and you don’t want to be in the dark but this isn’t the way! This isn’t some charity event or some art gala, these are dangerous people.”

“But Tony Stark-”

“Is as dirty as it gets,” Your heart began to race a bit, “And Steve cannot just let everyone know his biggest weakness, even if they are his allies.”

His biggest weakness. 

Suddenly, your mind was racing with thoughts of moments with Steve. Meeting him, going on your first dates, the hotel meetings, and the passionate kisses that always left you feeling like he felt more about you than he admitted. You never saw yourself as his weakness. 

I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you. 

When you snapped out of your trance, Peter had his walkie-talkie pressed to his chin, “Guys, uhm, we have a stowaway,” You slumped back in your seat, and when the car eventually came to a stop, you wished you were still tucked away in Steve’s bed. You think Peter was calling your name, probably apologizing and telling you how he had to follow orders but, honestly, you had tuned him out, “I-I don’t know …. I thought I checked everything …”

Your dress was adorable too, covered in pastels, while still remaining elegant. You imagined Steve's heart with flutter at the sight of you, instead, he was fuming. He was always so stoic, so full of composure, that the change frightened you. He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you from the backseat, and slamming the door shut. Pressed against the car, you looked into those blue-green eyes that were anything except nice. 

“I didn’t mean to for all this,” Was all you could muster up the courage to say, “I just wanted to come with you-”

He shushed you before you got your words out, “We’ll talk about it later.”

You wished he would just yell at you now. He could bend you over right now and you’d prefer that over his silence and the obvious disappointment in his tone, “Later? But-” He pulled you away from the car and you stumbled in your heels as he pulled you along the dark road. 

He brought you towards the last car in the caravan and Sam stepped out from behind it, closing the trunk, before handing something shiny to Steve, “What are you doing?” You asked shakily, the cold wind of the night blowing your dress. 

“Turn around, face the car,” He ordered you and you feared whatever punishment you were about to receive would be worse if you disobeyed him. Slowly, you turned around and he wasted no time grabbing your wrist. You heard the metal click of handcuffs as they tightened around your wrist. You felt his strong hands on your waist and, as he lifted your dress, you assumed the worst. Your panties slipped down and as Steve lowered himself with them. 

“Steve, please talk to me?”

To your surprise, as you stepped out of your underwear, you felt the click of metal around your ankles. When he stood back up, he grabbed your arm again, pulling you back so you were pressed against his chest, “Daddy will deal with you later,” His breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine, “Don’t worry, doll … open your mouth.”

“If you just let me explain-”

You weren’t sure why you even wanted to. He left your brain scrambled and wondering why you even did the things that you did. 

“I won’t ask you again.”

Your lips parted and you realized he was forcing your panties into your mouth. The next thing that you knew, you were lying in the back seat of that car, your wrist hogtied to your ankles. And you thought sitting in the trunk would be uncomfortable. You were struggling and calling out for him and, as you expected, you were ignored. 

“Get her back as fast as you can. I’ll keep things short with Stark,” Were the last words you heard before the door shut close and all your screaming was muffled. 

+

You weren’t sure at which point you’d fallen asleep. As you laid there tied up, you thought a lot about him since there was nothing else to think about. You weren’t sure how he could love you and be so cruel at the same time.  

That next morning, you awoke to sore limbs and makeup staining your pillow. Even though the car ride back was hell, you knew your punishment wasn’t over. You debated even getting out of bed, knowing what was to come. 

You finally mustered the energy to clean yourself up, washing your face, and brushing your teeth. When you stepped back into your room, you were taken aback by what was sitting in the middle of your room. A giant, life-size brown bear was happily perched before your bed, holding balloons and a Tiffany’s gift bag. 

It was exactly the opposite of what you were expecting today. You approached it cautiously, decided to sit and open up the present. You handled the bag carefully, finding an elegant white card sitting inside. 

For my favorite girl on her birthday.

Love, Daddy. 

You sighed, knowing he probably picked all of this out before you betrayed him and probably ruined any sort of trust he had between you. You hadn’t even realized it was your birthday which was probably due to the fact that you had no phone or any contact with the outside world. There was also a jewelry box inside, a gorgeous, rose-gold tennis bracelet inside. 

As you snapped it around your wrist, covering your bruises, you promised not to ask how much it cost. It would probably make you feel even worse about yesterday. 

You finished getting dressed, deciding to head downstairs for breakfast. You found Steve sitting at a table out by the pool, reading through a newspaper like a grandpa. It seemed like he was expecting you because there were pancakes and eggs waiting on the table, “Morning,” You greeted awkwardly. 

“Good morning, doll. Happy Birthday,” He responded, his eyes still focused on the newspaper. 

“Thanks,” Taking a seat in front of him, you instantly moved to grab the syrup, but the rings on his finger caught your attention. Below, you could see his knuckles were red and purple, bruised like he’d been punching something … or someone. “Your hands …” 

He folded his newspaper, taking a look at them himself. It didn’t seem to faze him as he folded them on his stomach, leaning back in his chair, “Your wrist,” He changed the subject and you wondered if he was amused by the fear in your eyes, “Do you like my gift?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful, I love it … thank you,” Your mind was elsewhere, “What happened to your hands? Is that from last night?”

“Last night is a blur. I was so angry after your little stunt, I had to have a few drinks to even get through the rest of the night.”

“Really?” You tried to hold in your scoff, “You seem very chipper today.”

“Only because I get to see your beautiful face,” He countered, smirking. 

Your eyes narrowed at him, “What did you do?”

“That’s a broad question-”

“Did you hurt him?”

“Him?” Steve raised an eyebrow, “You mean Peter? I thought about it … I’m still thinking about it actually. If he was smarter, yesterday would have never happened but you must’ve been pretty convincing. Poor kid, he probably thought you liked him.”

“None of it was his fault! I-I was just being stupid, I was using him and he was just trying to be a good guy. Steve, please.”

“If I did, you would probably start to actually listen. You’d never try one of those crazy stunts ever again-”

“I will listen! No more stunts, I’ll be an angel from now on,” You stood up from your chair, moving around the table, “I know you’re just trying to protect me. Peter tried to tell me that and I should’ve listened.” You grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“That’s all I want,” He added sincerely and you nodded. 

“I’ll pinky promise,” With your other hand, you held out your pinky. You thought Peter would be your way out but, here you were, begging to stay in order to keep him alive. Your pinkies wrapped around each other and you climbed into his lap. You kissed the sides of his mouth before kissing his lips. 

“Soon, we’ll take a trip together, I know you’re itching to get away.” 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You kissed his lips again, “Your hands … what actually happened?”

“Punching bag,” He easily explained although you were expecting a tale of horror. Holding his hand, you brought his fist to your lips, kissing them gently, “That probably wouldn’t have happened a year ago … I think you make me more gentle.”

“That’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think? Turning a beast into a prince.”

“For some reason, I have faith in you.”

+

“Peter!” You perked up as soon as he entered the living room, not realizing how grateful to see that he was still in one piece. Sam, Bucky, and Steve seemed to exchange confused glances from their places on the couch. 

Peter seemed baffled as well, “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No, we’re about to watch Coco. Wanna join?”

“There’s popcorn,” Sam added, stuffing his face.

“And cookies,” Bucky chimed in. 

Peter smiled, unsure, as he looked to Steve for permission, “Join us, son.”

“Awesome,” Peter clapped, making his way over to the couch, “This one always makes me cry.”

“Y/N, I thought you said this one wasn’t sad,” Bucky eyed you. You shrugged, snuggling yourself further into Steve’s side. You tried to hide a mischievous smile and act like you weren’t hoping to see three grown men tear up from a Disney movie. 

“Okay, press play,” You tapped Steve’s chest and he raised the remote. 

“Wait,” Steve paused, “Are all three of your nails painted?”

+

i’m thinking maybe i’ll make a christmas themed part 3, we shall see :)

[wienerbarnes]

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

A/N: ive been watching a lot of the sopranos lately and i feel like ive never seen a bucky x mob boss reader au (ive only rlly seen em where buckys the mob boss. if there are ones where reader is the mob boss PLS SEND EM TO ME I BEG) a lot of the slang and mob stuff here is from sopranos bc... im not in the fucking mafia so forgive me anyway enjoy :)<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

Dressed in expensive satin and jewelry that hangs between your breasts, an angry look on your face at the fact you’re sitting before him and Sam in an interrogation room in the tower. Freshly done nails, clean and crisp lipstick, spicy perfume, and an expression of annoyance.

As put together as you look, you don’t look like someone to be fucked with. Which, he supposes is good for a mobster; the Boss of Newark.

Looking at you, though, he’d never thought you to be such a figure of intimidation. While the mafia is still alive, despite how the media tries to deny this, he always pictured an old Italian man that chain smokes cigars. He doesn’t think he’s too far off, to his credit; he can smell the remnants of smoke on you.

“Mind if we make this fast? My cousin’s comin’ for dinner and I was gonna make ziti.” You huff, crossing your legs under the table.

“Sounds delicious. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.” Sam says, a calm look on his face even though he’s well aware of what you’re capable of.

When hunting down the last traces of the super soldier serum, he never thought Nick Fury himself would suggest getting in touch with you. He didn’t think it was worth the time to question how the two of you knew each other.

Theft. Drugs. Murder. Bribery. The list goes on, and there’s not a single thing that ties you to any of it.

A shrug of your shoulders, “So, what exactly is this about?” You ask.

“What is it that you do for a living?” Sam asks.

“I work in waste management.” You respond, a rehearsed answer.

Not exactly a lie, the environmental facility you manage is one of hundreds of covers used by your crew for your crimes. Environmental facilities, deli shops, strip clubs, auto shops. There isn’t a business in Jersey you aren’t tied to.

“Waste management? Like, garbage disposal?” Bucky asks, knowing exactly what it is you do for work.

You smirk, “Yeah, we dispose of garbage sometimes. What’s that got to do with me being here?”

“It’s to my understanding that you’re in the business of… buying and selling things. You and… the people you hang around got a real knack for it.” Sam tells you.

Bucky holds back a roll of his eyes. More like stealing and selling. Expensive Italian suits, antique watches, cars, electronics, illegal cigars. Who knows what else.

“I don’t know where you heard that… but I’m a popular gal, maybe I know a guy who might know a guy. What are you lookin’ for?” You ask.

You know this game, after being in the mob for so long. After being a part of your own crew for years, your patience and hard work paid off, working your way up to a captain and finally a boss. It didn’t take you long to learn in this business that government officials are jokes. Always wanting to bust my balls and then come crying to my corner for help, it’s a bunch of ugatz.

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

A laugh escapes you, “What, like vitamin C?” You teasingly smirk at him.

His chair makes a loud sound in the small room as he pushes it back harshly and stands, resting his hands on the table in between the two of you. You don’t flinch.

“Enough with the bullshit. Super serums. To create super soldiers. We need to get them before they end up in the wrong hands and make a big ass mess.” He snaps at you, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, you seem rather amused.

“You must have a lot of agita with all that anger, Sergeant Barnes.”

He doesn’t hold back this time and rolls his eyes before you speak up again, “Your first name is James, isn’t it? Ain’t that Italian?”

“No, it’s English. Or Scottish. Or Jewish - I don’t know, who cares? Are you gonna help us or not?” Bucky takes his seat again, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Not being arrested for all the shit we know you’re caught up in.” Sam offers.

You roll your own eyes this time, “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for wasting my time, boys, don’t let it happen again.” You stand, prepared to make your way back to the train station to go back to Jersey.

“Wait,” Sam stops you, “What is it that you want?”

You smile innocently and take your seat again, taking a minute to think before answering, “My little sister’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure she and all her friends would think it’s cool if you showed up to her prom as her date.” You wink at Sam.

Silence fills the room as the men think about your request.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” Bucky looks over at him and sees Sam rubbing the crease in between his eyes. He was expecting you to ask for immunity, protection, money, guns. But after hearing your request, he supposes you have enough of all that stuff anyway.

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

“Sam, it’s a fucking school dance in exchange for some of the most powerful and sought after serums on the planet - go to the fucking prom.” He tells him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as to how he would hesitate on something so simple.

“She’s eighteen, so you won’t have any problems with the media or none of that.” You add, the information not really making Sam feel any better.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go to the dance with your sister if you help us get these serums.”

You smile, happy to have done business with the two men, “What information do ya got for me?”

…

Bucky and Sam wait outside a back room in the facility you own. They passed the garbage trucks parked neatly outside, but could hear your screaming and the smell of Cuban cigars as soon as they entered the building.

She’s with a customer, they were told, by someone in your crew, them meeting Bucky’s expectations for mobsters more than you did. None of them ask any questions, but Bucky and Sam aren’t stupid, they’re sure your crew is aware of what’s going on and know the exact reason they’re there.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? The Bible says, Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit -”

“You listen to me, you take your Bible and your quotations book and shove it up your fat fucking ass! Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Bucky can’t help but scoff listening to you scream at whoever’s inside. Sam elbows him, silently telling him that now isn’t the time to find your work funny, especially not in front of the rest of your crew.

Bucky knows he’s old-fashioned, and while things that were taboo such as body modifications or certain fashion styles don’t phase him anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing a woman talk like that. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard anybody talk like you do.

Suddenly a man bursts out of the room, huffing and puffing, and you walk slowly behind him, as if to make sure he makes it outside okay.

“Grab his plate for me, will you?” You say not to anyone in particular, voice smooth and calm as if you hadn’t been yelling and threatening that man’s life for the past twenty minutes.

One of the men from your crew follows outside, seemingly to collect the license plate of the man who just left.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to that guy, right?” Sam asks as he and Bucky enter the room, taking a seat in front of the desk you have in there. He knows there’s no point in asking, that you’ll do whatever you want regardless because it’s obvious you’re passionate about receiving respect, but it was worth a shot.

“Is that what you came all the way to Jersey to ask me? Christ, I’m fuckin’ starving, you boys want anything to eat?” You ask, accent heavy as you reach into the side drawer of your desk and pull out what seems to be some kind of meat wrapped in paper.

“Gabagool?” You offer to them, picking out a slice for yourself and placing it in your mouth.

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

Bucky silently reaches over and picks off a slice of the cured cold cut, putting the meat in his mouth and savoring the flavor. While he can’t stand the way you make a living or the sailor’s mouth you have, he loves Italian food, and actually chose a neighborhood in New York that has plenty of traditional cold cut markets and restaurants to live in in order to fulfill his cravings.

“There’s a big party staged downtown this weekend, we think that’s when the drop is going to happen.” Sam tells you, bringing the focus to their reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ll send one of my boys.” You reply in between your chews.

“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was you get the serums.” Bucky speaks up.

“Buck, you know how many people want her dead?” Sam tries to reason.

“What the fuck do I have a crew for then? - No, if pretty boy wants me to do it myself, then I will. The same people that want my head are the same fucks who are terrified to be within twenty feet of me in fear they’ll make eye contact. I’m not scared of nothin’.” You say, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“What did you guys come here to talk about?” You ask.

Sam looks confused at your expression, “...To go over the plan? Hash out details? So you know how everything’s gonna go?”

“I’ll be fine; I’ve seen The Godfather once or twice,” You tell him, wrapping up the cappo, after Bucky picks off one last slice, and replacing it in the drawer, “Don’t worry Captain, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll get the serums for you.” You open a different drawer and pull out a cigar and a lighter.

Bucky watches as you place the large cigar in between your red-painted lips, bringing the flame of your lighter to the end and hollowing your cheeks until smoke exits from the corner of your mouth. Bucky feels blood travel south as his eyes glaze over your hand grab the cigar out of your mouth and blow out a long string of smoke.

“I guess we’ll be in touch then,” Sam stands and Bucky follows after.

“My sister’s wearing blue, so find yourself a nice tie.” You call out, lifting your feet up to cross them on the desk, dress rising and showing your legs.

Bucky blushes, and then laughs as he exits when he hears you, in a deep and more exaggerated accent than your own, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in!”

…

The morning of the party, Sam and Bucky pick you up from your house, planning to take you into New York to discuss final details before tonight.

You get in the passenger seat, Sam offering it to you and climbing in the backseat. As Bucky begins to drive off, your phone rings.

“I told you to leave that.” Bucky says, telling you explicitly to leave electronics here to prevent anyone finding out where you are, and also to avoid any distractions.

“Wanted to see what you’d about it, Sarge,” You wink at him, pulling out a flip phone and answering the call.

“Yeah… Uh huh… He what? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright… Tell him not to move a fucking muscle.” You hang up, slamming the phone closed.

“Stop at the facility for a sec, I gotta take care of something.” Bucky sighs and turns away from the route to head to your facility.

“Bucky’s going to be going with you tonight, by the way, he’ll be in disguise. Just in case anything goes wrong.” Sam tells you, not really caring anymore about having to make a stop for you to take care of whatever business you need to take care of.

Your only response is a hum as Bucky can feel the anger radiating off your now tense body.

You slam the car door shut as Bucky parks behind a garbage truck outside, not even waiting for him to fully put the car in park before you exit.

Him and Sam follow quickly behind you to see what’s going on. You enter through a side door that leads to a large room, a garage for the trucks, Bucky assumes.

There’s a large truck inside, and racks of suits wrapped in plastic scattered around. A younger man stands near the truck as your crew peruses around the racks, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five years old. Your heels click on the ground as you approach, slowing down as you glance between the suits and the young man. Bucky and Sam hang around a few feet behind your trail.

You stop, fuming, staring at the man before you speak, “You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I -” He begins, but you cut him off, raising an open hand at him.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear your fucking voice right now. Because if what I heard you did is true; if what you did to Vinny’s guy is true, you’re gonna be a fuck load of trouble.”

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

“I said shut the fuck up, Christopher! What part of that don’t you understand?” You yell, and even Bucky feels intimidated.

You turn to your crew, “What the fuck happened.” You demand, more than ask.

“Kid says he tried to take the truck, Vinny’s guy had a gun that fell outta the seat, went off, shot him.” One of the men summarizes, not looking up from the rack of suits.

You raise a manicured hand to pinch between your eyes, “You keep me skinny, Christopher, with all the fucking stress you cause me.”

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

“If you don’t do as I told you and shut your fucking mouth, you’re gonna be buried with two assholes,” You threaten before continuing.

“They were fuckin’ suits! All you had to do was take the truck! How did you fuck that up -” You stop yourself and sigh, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take all this shit, you’re gonna take it back to Vinny, and you’re gonna tell him what happened yourself.” You finish.

“Marone!” He exclaims, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Enough with the theatrics! You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your ass! Now, I don’t see you grabbing that rack and that rack and that rack and putting it back in the truck!” You wave your arms around the room.

The kid sighs and begins grabbing the racks one by one and rolling them back in the truck.

“Would it be such a shame if they all went back?” An older man from your crew asks, already wearing one of the expensive suits. You scoff and laugh.

“Bucky, pick yourself somethin’ nice for tonight,'' You turn to face him, and he jumps at the sound of your now calmer voice being directed at him, as opposed to the harsh one used on Christopher, “On me.” You wink.

...

Sam and Bucky sit on the bed and watch as you get ready. A small apartment near the party that’s already been swept for bugs. A favor, you called it, from someone you know.

They don’t question it.

“You and Bucky will go in together and I’ll be waiting at a secondary location watching and listening to everything.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from your dress. A mermaid dress, he thinks it is, black and tight and hugging you in all the right places, curving around your ass and sleeveless at the top, allowing you to show off a nice necklace and your cleavage. It’s an understatement to say that he’ll enjoy accompanying you tonight, even if it’s in a costume.

His mother probably would’ve loved it if he would’ve gotten with someone like you. Someone who loves their family, a spitfire that wouldn’t take any of his shit, and whose god damn gorgeous. She might’ve had to wash your mouth out with soap, though.

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

“Is he going for my safety or am I going for his?” You tease, finishing the last few curls of your hair, smoke coming from the iron after each time you pull your hair away from it.

“Once you find our guy, get talking with him and see if you can get him to make you an offer,” He begins.

“One I can’t refuse?”

“Then, you’ll try and get him alone, see if he’ll show you the serums, and once you do, we’ll be taking care of the rest.” Sam finishes explaining.

Bucky plucks a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. One, a camera, and the other, a microphone. You’re also given a comm to hide in your ear so both him and Sam can hear everything and you can hear them.

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

The ballroom is lively, loud music and people everywhere, and Bucky attunes all the action overwhelming him to a sweat and not that fact that you’re pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around your waist.

About a hundred different people come up to greet you, asking about your family, offering you drinks and food. Bucky can see right through all of them though; they’re all putting on the act out of fear. Everyone’s attention is on you, and Bucky’s sure if he wasn’t in disguise right now, no one would even notice.

You bring him to the middle of the crowd and he can’t be surprised when you start to dance with him, pulling at his arms to get him to loosen up. He complies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as the two of you move together.

“I’ll let you know when I spot him.” He tells you, voice causing goosebumps to rise on your neck; goosebumps that he notices but doesn’t point out.

It only takes a song or two before he spots who he’s looking for and sends you over, making sure your com is on, and choosing to stick by the bar, giving him a good view of you and allowing himself a break of having your body pressed against his.

He’s impressed listening to you talk to this guy, voice smooth and sultry, yet still commanding.

He knows there was a lot of talk when you took position as boss; not a lot of people in the mob took you seriously and didn’t think you or a woman in general would be good in that kind of position in power. So, you use that to your advantage to get shit done, and Bucky applauds you for that.

It’s not long before the guy offers to go somewhere more private to discuss business and Bucky follows far behind, Sam praising you through the coms from where he waits in the car outside, watching through the camera in your earring.

Bucky waits outside of a closed office door upstairs, listening to the conversation through the coms but hearing your exclamation through the door when the guys give you his asking price.

“5 mil each?! What do you take me for, some kinda stunad?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it, yeah, I can put a bullet between your eyes and take it, alright.”

“Stop messing around and take the offer, it’s not real anyway!” Sam tells you, not wanting to lose their chance on the serums.

You ignore him prioritizing your need for respect over the stupid mission, “How do I know these aren’t Kool-Aid pouches poured in glass bottles?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to test ‘em out for you.” The guy scoffs.

“Stronzo. You’re outta your fucking mind offering me that.”

“I’ll lower the price for you if you give me a little dance, how ‘bout that?”

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

“Up yours, lady!” He yells back, and Sam sees through the camera, he grabs at you.

“Buck, get in there.” Sam tells him, and it only takes Bucky a second to kick open the door.

He’s a bit taken aback when he not only sees the case of serums out on the table, but you holding the man bent over the small table in the middle of the room next to the serums, gun held to the back of his head.

He very quickly decides that you’re fine and moves to grab the serums, closing the case and holding it securely in his left hand.

“Don’t kill the guy.”

You stay silent and Bucky looks at you again. He can almost see the steam coming out of your ears and he notices a small cut on your cheek bone. He looks down to the man’s cowering figure and notices a large ring on his hand.

You mumble something in Italian to the man, a threat of some kind that Bucky can guess given how the man shuts his eyes and shakes a bit under your hold. Sam finally enters the room, military grade handcuffs in hand.

“Feds are on their way, get her out of here.” He tells Bucky.

You slowly lift the gun off the man’s head and stand up straighter, walking over to brush past Bucky in the direction of the back door.

He makes eye contact with Sam and gives him a nod before following after you, watching as you scrunch up the bottom of your dress to replace the gun in an ankle holster. Once outside, he stops you under a street light near the car and raises his hand to look at your cheek.

“We gotta get going,” You swat at his hand.

“You’re still bleeding.” He says, using his thumb to brush away the line of blood, smearing a red tinge on your skin.

He looks into your eyes and for a second he sees the tough exterior drop. The face of someone who got smacked across the cheek all for mouthing off at some asshole.

Your vulnerability doesn’t last long, though, as you sniff and walk towards the car, opening the passenger door and sitting inside before Bucky can make it over there to open the door for you.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to fill the silence. Stepping into the apartment, you immediately go to change and collect your things. Bucky moves to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit of some kind.

He meets you in the room and you’re now in cotton pants and a large t-shirt, sandals on your feet showing the bright red color of your toenails and the lines indented in your skin from how tight your heels were. You’re hanging up the dress and zipping it back in the cover when Bucky drops the first aid kit on the bed.

“Christ, it’s only a small cut.” You mumble.

“Just - Let me, would you?”

He takes out the liquid of disinfectant and soaks a cotton pad, cleaning off your cheek bone with it before covering it with healing ointment and a bandaid.

You don’t thank him when he finishes and he huffs as he closes the kit, “When do you drop the act, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

“No. People tend to try and have me whacked when I drop the act.”

He sighs, “So, what, nobody ever takes care of you? Treats you? You don’t have any days off? Time to be yourself?”

“This lifestyle doesn’t really allow me to have days off, Sergeant Barnes.” You snap, gathering the dress in your hands and turning to face him completely.

“Take me home, I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

You leave him in the room and he waits an extra few seconds before dropping the conversation and following you out.

...

Bucky opens the back door to the environmental facility with his right hand and sees the door to your office open, you and your crew sitting together surrounded by cigar smoke and he can hear a TV on.

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

“Like the cop would be callin’ this asshole Sir if the fuckin’ cameras weren’t around!” You wave a hand at the TV, not yet seeing Bucky standing there.

He finds it funny that the gnarliest criminals - the literal Mafia - spend their time watching shitty, scripted cop shows.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with you where you retrieved the serums. Sam went to prom with your sister five days ago, which was hilarious for him, especially when he got photo prints of different sizes in the mail at his apartment. He didn’t bother thinking about how you found his address.

One of the men sitting next to you glances his way and sees him standing there, smirking at the vision of him; hair combed slightly back and to the side, and a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a small paper box in his left.

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

You look over to the doorway and your jaw drops in an open-mouthed smile.

“Look at googootz! Now this is a man that knows how to treat a lady, are you boys paying attention?” You tease, scurrying over to him and pinching one of his cheeks, resting your free hand on his large bicep to guide him into the room, the rest of your crew ushering out to give the two of you privacy.

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated moan, “You know the way to an Italian woman’s heart, Sergeant Barnes. What’s with all the gifts?”

“Thought I’d treat you.” Is all his response is.

You narrow your eyes at him and stand up a little straighter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The last conversation before he dropped you off that night hasn’t escaped his mind. He understands the difficulties of life - how it’s hard to find time for yourself among the busy schedule that is existing. He catches himself sometimes, too, forcing his body to run with no sleep, burning through all of his energy until he’s completely drained and blaming it on life.

But life’s not always like that. Life allows for days off. For treats. For a bit of kindness. And Bucky’s come to show you just that.

“What, a beautiful woman like you never received flowers and pastries before?” He says, taking a half-step forward to be close enough to look you closer in the eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” You whisper in amusement.

His eyes glance away from yours to look down at your red-painted lips. He gives you a shy smirk, really turning up the charm. For a big, bad, boss, you’re pretty easy to break down.

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

“What makes you think you’re worth canceling plans for?”

“Why don’t you trust me and find out?”

“You should know by now, Sergeant Barnes, that I don’t trust.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, setting the box of cannoli on your desk before reaching his now free hand up to your face, using his finger to brush away a stray hair and push it behind your ear.

He then takes a hold of one of your hands, turning it over to place a kiss on the top of it, before wrapping your fingers around the flowers in his other hand, forcing you to take them.

“No restaurant you’ve been to a hundred times over, no drama, no business. Just a man trying to treat a lady.” You look down at the flowers before meeting his eyes again.

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

“No. Let me take care of everything.” Bucky insists, determined to get you to give up control for the first time in what he can only imagine has been a very long time.

Bucky knows better than anyone how terrifying it is to give up control. It was terrifying when he was forced to give up control, his free will taken away from him in the war for decades upon decades, but it’s terrifying even now when he has to do it as a free man. It makes a person vulnerable. When was the last time you were allowed to be vulnerable for somebody?

“I’m gonna pick you up here at six. Wear something nice and leave the executive attitude at home.” He finishes, leaving you with the flowers and cannoli before returning back outside, ignoring the stares he receives from you crew who wait patiently outside your office.

He feels your eyes follow him at the door, and he can’t wait to sweep you off your feet tonight.

[plaidbooks]

Rough Beginnings

A/N: So! This idea spawned after reading @cycat-carisi​ story, We. Please read that first, then come back here for this prequel! This also covers the Mafia square in @adarafaelbarba​ moodboard bingo!

Tags: mentions of a prostitution ring, talks of murder and mafia-related goings-on

Words: 1964

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart​  @beccabarba​  @thatesqcrush​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @permanentlydizzy​ @ben-c-group-therapy​  @infiniteoddball​ @glowingmess​ @whimsicallymad​ @lv7867​ @storiesofsvu​ @cycat4077​ @alwaysachorusgirl​  @glimmerglittergirl​ @joanofarkansass​ @caracalwithchips​ @berniesilvas​​  @reading--mermaid​  @averyhotchner​  @mrsrafaelbarba​ @detective-giggles​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @dreamlover31​

(gif by @resparza​ )

Sonny never hated his job more than when he went undercover. He had hated when he was posing as a homeless man with an eye for children, but this was worse. So. Much. Worse.

His cover story for this job was that he was part of the Italian mob, and he had been hired on as security for a prostitution ring; some huge network that was international but had its roots right here in Manhattan. Him, along with multiple real mafia members, were in charge of transporting girls, drugs, and anything else the head honcho told them to.

It had been three months since he went under; his beard itched his face still, his leather jacket was starting to be uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to take all of these bastards down. But they didn’t have enough yet. So, he had to stick it out a little longer—at least, that’s what he told himself. A little longer, a little longer. He wasn’t sure how much “little longer” he had left in him.

Sonny lived in the housing quarters his boss supplied him, along with three other mafia guys. He had almost zero contact with the world outside his job—all the information he gathered was sent in a coded text from a burner. But he was starting to miss his friends and family. At least his employer understood that as part of the Italian mob, Sonny was allowed to go to church on Sundays…if there wasn’t something big happening.

His saving grace came a month later, while standing guard at his boss’s door. A woman he’d seen before came stomping up to him, and he braced himself; he knew that look.

“Let me see my father,” you snarled.

Sonny rose his hands defensively. “I was given orders ta not let anyone in. That includes you,” he replied, crossing his arms once more and trying to puff out his chest. But you simply glared at him.

“Fuck you; let me in, before I force my way in,” you growled.

He chuckled, eyeing you. “Ya really think you can get passed me? Let’s see ya try, doll.”

You gave him another impressive glare before trying to lunge passed him, reaching for the handle. Sonny caught you easily around your midsection, lifting you and placing you down at arm’s length in front of him.

“That the best ya got?” he teased. This wasn’t the first time you tried to brute force your way passed him before, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. But you had a trick up your sleeve.

You let your bottom lip quiver, tears appearing in your eyes. “Pl-please, sir, let m-me see my—” you trailed off, sniffling loudly.

“Ah geez, don’t be doing that. Come on; he’s in a meeting and will be out soon. Just wait a lil, okay?” he said, a touch of pleading in his voice.

But you didn’t stop, letting the tears trail down your cheeks. You let out a loud sob, and Sonny wanted to rip his hair out; he didn’t need a tantrum with daddy’s spoiled brat right now. He internally winced at that; he didn’t really believe that that was what you were, but when you came up here, trying to cry your way in, his mind went there.

You let out another loud sob. “Please, doll, I promise ta let him know as soon as he’s free—” Sonny started, but he was cut off by the door behind him opening. He stood at attention—like a good little lapdog—and the man who was having a meeting with his employer came out. He took one look at you, then left, rolling his eyes. You quickly wiped your face with your shirt before your dad appeared.

“And what are you doing here?” your father asked, annoyance dripping from his voice.

Sonny felt bad for you, but said nothing, gave away no emotions on his face as you requested to speak with him, privately.

He nodded, and Sonny moved out of the way, letting you enter, the door closing softly behind you both. He released a breath; it was always high tension after a meeting. But Sonny also found himself feeling sorry for you, having a father like that. He was hoping that when the walls came down, you’d at least be spared; you had no real idea of your father’s business, how big and deep it ran.

The meeting between you and your father didn’t last long, and soon enough, the door was opening once more behind him.

“Sonny; drive my daughter home. Giuliano will cover you until you're back,” your father ordered.

Sonny nodded, letting you pass him before following you. He kept his emotions in check, but he saw the look on your face; sadness, betrayal, and fear. He vaguely wondered what you had talked about but didn’t want to pry; he could be fired or worse for it.

It wasn’t until halfway through the drive to your place that he asked if you were okay.

“Fantastic,” you muttered, staring out the window.

Sonny wasn’t sure why he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut; the words just spilled out. “Ya father is a hard man. I’m sorry ya have ta deal with that.” It was a mistake, he knew; if you were indeed loyal to your father, then saying that out loud was a good way to end up dead.

You blinked in surprise at his bluntness, and for his apology. “Y—yeah, he is. I wouldn’t let him catch you saying that, though.”

He nodded. “Uh, how ‘bout makin’ it our little secret, then?” he asked, hoping beyond hope that you’d say nothing about this to him.

“Our little secret…. Yeah, okay,” you replied dryly, eyes going back to the window.

 *******************

After that conversation, Sonny’s boss would often send him to you, whether to drive you or as extra protection—more like babysitting, to Sonny. But he found that he couldn’t complain; it was the only time he could be close to his true self…plus it was safer and better than doing other, illicit things. Even if he should be doing those things for intel. And of course, he never slipped up like he had on that first car ride. No, he was Sonny from the Italian mob, not the soft-hearted detective. He held you at arm’s length, determined to not let the mask slip. But something about you got to him, and he found himself afraid of you. Afraid that he’d make a mistake, and that you would see right through him.

“Sonny, why do you do this job?” you asked one day while he was driving you home. It had been over a month since your father had basically assigned Sonny to you.

He tried to stay neutral, but you saw how he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “’Cause it’s a job. I was hired.”

“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it,” you replied, smiling.

His jaw tightened. “Nah, see, when my boss tells me ta do somethin’, I do it.”

“You’re not like the rest, though. The others, I see murder in their eyes. They have such dark thoughts; it’s almost like they’re hoping my father gives them a kill order,” you explained. True, your father told you that they were security guards for his business, but you never bought that story; they were more like murderers than security. The day when Sonny kept you out of your father’s office was the first time you noticed that he was different; his eyes were soft, and he talked to you like a person, rather than making vaguely concealed threats. He seemed to genuinely care when you started to fake cry, even though you knew that he knew it was fake.

His bright blue eyes met with yours in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before flicking back to the road. “We don’t kill—”

“Stop lying to me, Sonny. Please. I deserve to know what’s going on,” you said, a slight begging tone in your voice.

So that confirmed it; you had no idea what your father was capable of. Sonny swallowed, wanting this conversation to end. “Talk ta ya father, not me—”

“I’ve tried! Multiple times! I’m not an idiot; I know he’s shady as hell. But just what are you protecting?”

“If he’s not willin’ ta tell ya, then that should tell ya somethin’, right?” he asked. He pulled over in front of your art studio, putting the car in park and getting out. You thought about his words; it was more than you got from anyone else. To be honest, Sonny always gave you more than anyone else; he didn’t sneer at you, ignore you, call you names like “brat”. And he definitely didn’t look at you with hungry eyes or creepy smiles. He seemed like…like a generally good person, all things considered. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but you noticed you had developed a crush on him.

All too soon, Sonny was opening the door for you to get out. You thanked him as you exited the car, and felt his presence behind you as you climbed the stairs to the door. He always walked you there, to make sure you were safe.

You unlocked and opened the door, then turned around to face him. He gave you a nod and you thanked him again. But something possessed you in that moment; why else would you have grabbed his shirt and pulled him to you in a kiss?

Sonny froze in place, eyes wide, before he placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back. You looked up at him, the apology dying on your tongue; you weren’t sorry at all. That kiss was worth it in your eyes. But there was an almost…pained? look in Sonny’s eyes.

“D-doll, we can’t—ya father—”

“Never has to know,” you finished for him.

He blinked, obviously warring with himself, and you were sure you knew why; if your father found out about you two, he could have Sonny killed. But, if Sonny felt the same way about you that you did about him, then maybe, just maybe, he could help you escape from under your father. Something about him was safe, trustworthy.

Slowly, you reached up to cup his face. When he didn’t pull away, you gently leaned in again, kissing him slowly, tenderly. He paused for only a moment before he melted against your lips. Then he gently pulled away from you.

“I—I gotta—” He didn’t finish his thought before he turned and hurried down the stairs. You watched him go, hoping that he’d say nothing to your father.

The car door slammed shut and Sonny was quick to turn the car on and leave. What the fuck was he doing, letting you kiss him? And then he kissed you back?! He must be a fucking idiot! Sure, he liked you—more than he was willing to admit—but this could blow his cover. Not to mention get him killed, cover blown or not. Plus, he was lying to you; any feelings you felt weren’t for him but for the façade he put on.

He resolved to keep his distance from you; nothing good could come from any of this. It ended in one of two ways: you, heartbroken over Sonny’s lies, or him buried six feet under in some lot. There was no way to disobey your father if he ordered him to take you home, so there was no avoiding you. Sonny would just have to lay down the rules next time he saw you; absolutely no relationship could exist, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

[supernaturalgirl20]

All’s Fair in Love and War!

Part two

Pairings: Mob!boss Din Djarin x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, p in v smut, angst, small pieces of fluff, violence, cursing.

Summary: Din is the Mand’alor, head of the mandalorian mafia. He is a cruel man, shoots without hesitation, kills without remorse and fucks whoever he wants. Is he really as they say, or can you tame the beast?!

*comments and reblogs appreciated*

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Unsure of what was happening you quickly wrap a towel around yourself and move into the bedroom. You find him sitting on the bed, naked. Does this man have no shame! Even though he had just fucked you, you didn’t know where to look. He senses your nerves and beckons you towards him. He stands tall towering over you, his hand moves to where your hand is on the towel, loosening your grip. In one swift motion the towel falls to the floor. You don’t meet his eyes. He tilts your chin upwards, so your looking him in the eyes. The way he’s looking at you, it’s sending a warmth through you.

“Your beautiful.”

He moves your damp hair off your shoulders, slowly moving his fingers down and across your breasts. He pinches your nipple watching it harden under his touch. He moves his hand behind your head, gently pulling you to him until your lips meet in a searing kiss. The feel of his plump lips, the taste of him has you weak. He begins moving you backward towards the bed. When your knees hit the edge he gently lays you down and crawls up your body, kissing every inch as he goes. Pushing your head back into the mattress, you can’t help but wonder why he’s being like this. So slow, so gentle, not like the stories you’ve heard, certainly not like before in the shower. His body covers yours completely and staring into your eyes, he lines himself at your core. With one thrust, he fills you completely.

His movements are slower, and you can feel every ridge on his cock as it moves in and out of you. He sucks on your nipples and you let out a loud moan.

“That’s it baby, let it out, I got you.”

“Yes…..Jesus fuck…”

“So tight…..so….perfect…..you’re made for…me Mesh’la.”

He grabs your leg and wraps it around his hip, thrusting harder into you. You feel euphoric, skin tingling with pleasure.

“Look at me. I want you to look at me when you come.”

“Oh god…..yes…..mand’alor.”

“Call me Mando.”

With that you come hard. Your pussy clenches his cock, sending him over the edge. He quickly pulls out and paints your breasts in his seed. He climbs off of you and goes to get a washcloth. He gently cleans his mess off you. You find yourself unsure again of what to do, so you go to put back on some clothes.

“You can stay. Come lie down, get some rest.”

You nod and walk slowly back to the bed. He lifts the covers for you and once your under them he pulls you to him. Wrapping an arm around you he whispers “goodnight Mesh’la.”

“Goodnight Mando.”

****

When morning came you woke alone. You weren’t surprised, you expected it really. That’s what your father traded your for. Keep the mand’alor sexually satisfied in exchange for a higher cut from the drugs they sold. Why were you born into that family, you want more from your life than to be a sex toy. You want a job, a husband who loves you and a family. Things you’ll never have.

Getting up you notice a note on your beside table.

I had a business meeting first thing. I will be back soon. Make yourself at home.

Mando

Very to the point. I suppose that’s a good thing, you won’t have to second guess him. You dress in a black lace robe and fix your hair. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door.

“Yes?”

It slowly open to reveal a short old man, “Ms. Y/N, the mand’alor has had breakfast prepared for you, if you would like to follow me please.”

“Of course.”

The walk to breakfast is silent and you take in the house as you go. Wow!

“Indeed Ms. It is a fine house fit for a king.”

“Oh..I didn’t realise I said that out loud.”

“It’s no bother Ms.”

“You can just call me Y/N.”

“If you wish and my name is Quill.”

“Lovely to meet you. Have you work here long.”

“Oh yes, quite a few years now, the mand’alor is a very kind man. Treats everyone that works for him with respect.”

“Oh, that’s not what people say about him.”

“Ah yes well he has a reputation to keep. Can’t be the head of a Mafia family if your soft.”

“Of course.”

“Here we are, you will be left alone, but security will be outside the door.”

With that he was gone. Your eyes were wide like saucers as you took in the table covered in delicious food. Sitting down with some french toast and fruit you try to process the last day and a half.

There is a commotion outside the door and suddenly it’s flung open and a beautiful women storms in.

“So your the new plaything. Hmm, your not very pretty are you?”

“I….”

“That wasn’t a question. He’ll get bored of you soon enough, he always does. Once we’re married I’ll put a stop to all this.”

“Your getting married? To Mando?” Your teasing her now and it’s working, you can see the anger on her face.

“Of course to the Mand’alor. What you thought he’s marry someone like you, ha.”

“I have no intention of marry him. I am here because my father traded me. Nothing more.”

Towering over you pointing a finger directly in your face, “see that it stays that way.”

“Enough Omera!”

“Mando, baby I was just..”

“Get out! Now.”

She scurries out the door and he turns to look at you. You feel small under his gaze. He comes o stand beside you, he reaches for your face and tilts your chin upwards. He looks at you with those brown eyes like he’s seeing into your soul.

“Your very beautiful, don’t listen to her, she is just jealous.”

“Why do you need me if she is your fiancé?”

“She isn’t. I am being pressured into taking a wife, my family believes it will solidify my position.

“What do you believe?”

“I know I seem heartless, and I suppose I am most of the time, I have to be, but what I really want, is out of this life, to marry for love not necessity.”

“I suppose that’s fair. Why don’t you just leave so? You are the mand’alor, you have the power.”

“You would think so, wouldn’t you.”

He bends down and places a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Come, you need to be dressed properly, I do not my men distracted by your beauty.”

You take his hand and he guides out of the dining room, he places his hand on your lower back as you both walk through the halls. Suddenly a little boy comes running out of no where and jumps at Mando.

“Ad’ika I’ve missed you.” You look at them, shock written all over your face. Mando looks at you,

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet my son Grogu.”

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[sailorhyunjinz]

~ ℙ𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕝𝕖 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕀𝕀 ~

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: SMUT! Dom!Minho x sub!reader criminal!skz, gang!au, angst(?), criminality, mentions of scars, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, explicit language, mentions of robbery, mentions of police, mentions of cuts, alcohol consumption, mentions of fights, public sex, PIV, fingering, unsafe sex (STAY SAFE), orgasm (m/f), cum, slight bulge kink, squint to see the degradation. 

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS SINCE THIS PIECE CONTAINS VIOLENCE!

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2.6 k 

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: EEEEP part 2 of purple hearts that is more of a background story to the first one so if you haven’t read the first one please do so here!~ (also jesus fucking christ did i struggle with this sooo... don’t expect much lmao)

OH if you want a song recommendation; A good song never dies - Saint Motel (fits this fic heheh...) 

A loud bang erupted through the room alerting the 7 other boys. Bangchan’s fist was firmly planted on the table as he looked at the shoked faces off the seven boys.

“We can’t go on like this anymore”

He spoke in a raspy voice, his breath quivering as the other boys avoided eye contact with both Bangchan and between themselves.

“Did you see what happened out there?!” Felix flinched at Chan’s loud shout as Changbin smirked, spinning in the office chair and staring at the ceiling. 

“It’s not that serious, Chan! Just a couple bruises tha-” Changbin started speaking but was soon cut off.

“Nonsense!” Chan growled out. “All of this because that son of a bitch won’t get a job, we included you because you were a detective. You were useful once, Minho”.

The entire room glanced over at Minho. His cheek scarred, a droplet of blood desended down from his knuckles as he swept his hair back with one hand. 

“Not my fault, you wanted me to plan the different robbing schemes so how the fuck can I work, huh? Ever though about that?” He spat on the floor as his gaze was locked with Bangchan’s. The leader getting visibly annoyed by Minho’s tone. 

“Calm down everybody” Seungmin said, carefully nudging at the curtain infront of the window and looking down at the blue and red lights that was flashing all over town. “Continue like this and we’ll all be dead meat for the police”.

Hyunjin was sitting across from Changbin, only the big white table seperating them as a lonely lightbulb hanged in the middle. 

“I agree with Chan, Minho used to help by getting access to information only the detectives had but now... well, he’s not doing much” he scratched the back of his neck while talking. 

Minho was aggrivated by his words, ready to lunge at anyone that dared to open their mouth about how he wasnt helpful after he’d been fired from his job as a detective.

“I-I’m gonna find a job, not like you fuckers sitting here and living off others pain”. He tried to defend himself but only earned a scoff from Felix.

“Please,,, don’t try to judge us when you’re in it yourself” Felix remarked snarkily, sitting on the cold stone flooring. A first aid kit was laid out infront of him as he treated a big wound on his forearm, wrapping bandage over the cut and hissing as the material stinged against the raw wound. 

“I’ll find my ways, don’t worry” he devilishly smirks, many of the boys sighing and rolling their eyes. All except one. Bangchan. His blood was boiling. Did Minho not see how the whole groups future was hanging on by a thin red thread? The red representing how much blood has been shed by these boys in order to survive in this vile world.

Silence filled the room, only the faint sound of police sirens could be heard from outside. Minho clenched his jaw, looking around at the silent boys before grabbing his coat from the wobbly coathanger and exiting the mobs headquarter, shutting the door loud enough to startle both Jeongin and Jisung. Confused glances were exchanged while Bangchan just stood at the end of the table, staring out into the dark night. 

---

The nightlife was well and alive in the big city. Music blaring, people chattering and cars humming. The neon lights were all around him as well as the vast crowds of people enjoying the night. Minho walked into a bar that was a couple of blocks away from where he and the boys had been moments earlier, robbing a jewely store and beating up the owners until puddles of blood formed around them. Most of the times it was easy but today the police were a step ahead and bad planning by Bangchan almost led to the boys in handcuffs. Luckily, all eight managed to escape, leaving the bodies and the spray painted SKZ mob logo on the old fashioned walls of the jewerly store. 

The bar reeked of alcohol as the lights were low, only a couple of silhouette visible. Unsteady bar chairs decorated the dim bar along with a wall of fancy liquor bottles and as Minho sat down he looked down at the bar table before croaking out;

“One boulevardier“ 

He licked his lips as he looked cockily at the bartender that quickly nodded, intimidated by the wound on his cheek. Minho rubbed the back of his neck whilst comtemplating his life choices. Graduated with a law degree, once being a well respected detective but what was he worth now? He was just a dirty criminal, ruining lives in order to survive. The drink was placed infront of him, a coaster on the bottom of the wide glas as the drink condensed, forming beeds of liquid on the rim. Just as he lifted the glas to his chapped lips you tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Excuse me” 

You stood behind his hunched figure and met his gaze as he turned around, drink in hand. You show your detective badge before speaking.

“y/n, y/l/n. Happened to see any commotion here tonight, sir?

He scoffs which makes you confused as you look him straight into his cold brown eyes.

“Detective? At least you got to keep your job”

Minho turns back and you stand there, wondering if he’s drunk or just refusing to cooperate.

“Sir, I asked you if you’d seen anything that could lead us to the SKZ mob? I’m pretty sure you know who they are. You know, the ones that makes the entire city shake of fear.” 

“Sure, I know of them.” He smirked with his answer.

He patted the empty bar chair next to him, signaling for you to sit which caught you off guard. You were hesitant since he didn’t look like the friendliest type but you nodded, slowly sitting down next to him. 

“Look, I might even surprise you about how much I know” he remarked, steadily raising the glas to his dry lips. 

“Is that so? How do you know so much?” you asked, geniunly interested in him and that scar on his cheek.

“Former detective” he stated simply. 

Your eyebrows jerked at his words. ‘Former detective?’ you thought, losing his job must have been hard on him judging from his scruffy appearence and by the way he waved his finger at the bartender, ordering another drink. 

“Then why did you lose your job?” Curiosity was going to be the death of you.

“Aren’t you asking too many questions, baby?”

Who was he calling baby? The two of you had met minutes ago but something in the way his voice rang through that word caused shivers to descend down your spine. 

“I’m a detective, that my job and you should know that” you replied sassily, not knowing what to do with the butterflies in your stomach upon hearing him call you baby. 

“I could help you but it comes with a cost.”

He moved his hand in a circular motion, swirling the liquor as the floating ice cubes bumped against eachother, the sound being completely masked by the distinct chattering of other guests. 

“Well,,, what do you want me to do?” You looked at him as he stared straight ahead, his silvery earring swaying as he turned his head towards you, grinning. 

“A job and you.” 

His deep brown eyes seemed to draw you in but you had to resist, you were on a patrolling shift after all. 

“I’m s-sorry,,, This is not appropriate behaviour” you say as you try to get up before being abruptly pulled back by your wrist, the purple heart on your bracelet reflecting in the minimally lit bar. 

“I know damn well that there is a promotion looming in the air” he said, not breaking eye contact with the bracelet on your arm. He was right. If he had valuable information it could change your career, make you climb higher in the ladder of success and peer down at all your co-workers that were once laughing at your lack of skills.

“H-how’d you know?” you said, flustered at his big hand that was still tightly gripping your wrist. He flashed his devilish grin before yanking you by the arm, dragging you to the bathroom. 

“W-wait,,, what are you-”

Pushing the door to the bathroom open, he slammed you against a cubical as he crashed his lips onto yours. Luckily the bathroom was empty leaving Minho without any hesitation to fuck you so hard that you’d be longing for more, fuck you so that you’d be left with no other choice but to hire him. You melted in his touch and as much as you knew how wrong this was something about his mysterious aura had you answering his kiss, pursing your lips and slipping your tongue inside of him. The kiss quickly got heated, sparks flying as his fingertips lightly nudged on the band of your jeans. Minho tilted his head, cupping your warm soft cheek with his brittle and bloody hands as you moaned into the kiss, adrenaline rushing through you at the thought of getting caught at any moment. 

Minho pulled you into a cubical, your bracelet jingling from the sudden movement. Locking the door, he put his hand by the side of your head and towered over you making you feel helpless. You needed him inside of you. 

“Deal?” he leaned over to your ear, his hot breath tickled your ear and all you could do was nod as you desperatly clenched around nothing. 

You reattached your lips on his, the bitter taste of liquor spreading in your mouth as your tongues fought for dominance. Minho stroked your hair until his hand slowly moved to peel off your shirt, exposing your bra strap. His touch on your bare shoulder made you shudder and your core quivering in anticipation, feeling a wet patch on your underwear. His hand unbuttoned your pants causing you to gulp loudly, holding the back of his neck to deepen the kiss.  Without warning his cold fingertips slid down beneath your panties, grazing your sopping folds and feeling himself get painfully hard, not wanting to admit the effect you had on him. 

“Already this wet, babygirl?” 

He broke the kiss, looking at your pained expression as he inserted a finger into your dripping pussy. Your eyes tightly shut as your hands wrapped around his arm, needing something to hold on to before your trembling legs gave up on you. You quickly stripped yourself from your pants and underwear, the fabric pooling around your feet and touching the surprisingly clean bathroom tiles. 

“Needy I see” he scoffed, inserting a second finger and sending you over the moon with pleasure, your hands still wrapped around his wrist. 

“s-shut up, you m-made me like this” you stutter back at him, trying to impose some sort of dominance but Minho only swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, looking at you with hungry dark eyes. A broken moan escaped your lips that glistened from saliva, Minho curled his fingers upwards, grazing your g-spot with every move. Before another strained moan managed to escape your lips he retracted his fingers, lapping off your juices from his long fingers with a mischievous look in his eyes. 

“Turn around”

His cold voice pierced your eardrums and as if you’d been hexed you complied, your body moving to his command. Your hot cheek pressed up against the cubical door as Minho’s body was dangerously close to yours, his clothed bulge rubbing against your bare ass. The sound of his belt unbuckling echoed as you pressed your ass up against his bulge, desperate for his cock. 

In a swift motion both his pants and underwear dropped down to the floor, his erect veiny member springing out, the tip shining with precum. He pumped his length a couple of times before rubbing the tip against your dripping heat making you mewl out in suspense, the burning feeling in your core growing stronger. Minho alined himself with your entrance, slowly pushing in the tip to which you hissed, a momentary sting hitting your senses. He teased you by dragging his fingertips across your buttcheeks and up your spine, goosebumps erupting. 

Not being able to control yourself you pushed your butt out making you sink deeper on his length, earning a groan from the dark haired boy. 

“Desperate much?” he cooed from behind you. 

Your hands formed into fists as they held you body up from the door.

“F-fuck,,, hurry, I’m still on my shift you know?” you spat out at him, your legs shaking from how his dick stretched out your tight walls. 

“Whatever you say”

He laced his fingers through your hair, grabbing a fistful before turning his hand and yanking you towards him, your back arching as his hips slam against yours causing your butt to jiggle. You choked on your own moan as Minho’s hand tightly held you by the roots. 

The movement repeated and got harder by each thrust causing you to bite your lip in order to stop from screaming out in pleasure. Heat rose to your cheeks as your eyes rolled back into your skull, stray pieces of hair landing infront of your hair. Sweat beaded on Minho’s forehead, his groans getting louder as he neared his sweet release. 

“S-so tight,,, fuck.” He spoke haltingly, hating the fact that you made him weak. In order to hold on for longer you clenched around him not knowing that he’d grunt loudly.

“Now you’re c-clenching around me like a little whore?” 

A string of moans ensued from your delicate lips upon hearing his new nickname to you. How did he know that you liked it? You could only nod, your speech all slurred from the impact of his dick burrowing deep into your cervix. The knot in your stomach tightened, your head dazed as Minho’s thrusts became uneven, the grip on your hair tightening. Not feeling your legs any longer the knot unraveled, your body shivering from the orgasm that washed upon you, your juices coating Minho’s dick that was still pounding into you at an immense speed. 

“A-aah,,,s-shit!” you screamed out as he rushed after his own orgasm, overstimulating you in the meantime. Tears prickled in the corners of your watery eyes as Minho’s last moan echoed in the room, the moan being high in pitch. He pulled out of you leaving your cunt dripping as he pumped his length a couple of times, throwing his head back before his white cum spurted onto your butt, feeling the warm substance drip down your leg. The two of you panted, chest heaving as your forehead made contact with the door, legs weak. 

In your peripheral vision you see the boy stretching out a paper towel, his chest heaving as he wiped off the small sweat beads with the back of his hand. You shake your head in order to come back to earth before taking the paper towel from his hand, muttering a small “thank you”. 

“So what you say, babygirl?” His dick turning flaccid before pulling up his pants, looking at you wonderingly. You wipe off the cum and discard the paper in a small waste bin before you reach down to grab your panties and pants, pulling them briskly up. You reach for your back pocket, holding out a business card between your pointer and long finger with one hand, the other hand messing with your hair, making it look presentable. 

“Call me on Monday” you say before stumbling out of the cubical, leaving the grinning boy behind you. 

[t-o-m-hollands]

Chapter eight

Summery: Tom is part of the Firm, a fearless London gang. You knew each other as children, before everything changed. Now your paths cross again.

Pairing: Tom and female reader.

Themes: Mob!Tom, Peaky Blinders inspired, period piece – this is set in 1961, London.

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, one hit to the head. Smut. I mean, it’s a mob!AU so generally just a lot of talking of murder, fighting and violence. THIS IS A +18 STORY. 

Word count: 5k. Sorry, but this is an eventful chapter so got a bit long. I didn’t want it to end in a cliffhanger so I sort of had to go on a bit

An absolute massive thank you to @plantlungs​ for being an amazing editor and for having the patient of a saint and correct all my misplaced commas and confused word choices. 

READ PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE

Recap of the story so far: Tom is part of and working himself up in the Firm; the feared London gang. Its leader is a certain Fabien Towner. After an attack on Harrison it’s clear that they have a traitor in their midst who is also working for the rival gang created by a man called Jack Flanagan. While Tom is trying to bring the attacker in for questioning he meets you; his old school love (and unfortunately for him, the daughter of the home secretary who has spent most of his career trying to put an end to organized crime).  After an interesting night where you end up as a witness for a murder Tom essentially has to kidnap you until he knows what to do with you. Ending up deciding to let you live, and in doing so risking his own life, he lies to Fabien about there being no witness to the crime.  

Some time later you and Tom meet again at the club Romantique, as Tom has gone there to negotiate with Jack Flanagan. You go home with Tom that night and the two of you begin an affair. Fabien, finding out about the affair and of who your father is, is delighted, thinking that he can use you as leverage to the home secretary.  

Not many days later Tom is attacked by Flanagan’s gang, and he flees to your house where you patch him up. He tells you of Fabien’s plan, and asks you to work with him in order to bring the traitor in – the only thing that can possibly distract the Firm’s leader from you. You agree to help him.  

***

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

arsonist's lullaby - hozier

***

You wake with a kiss to your forehead. Opening your heavy eyelids, you’re met with a smile, and a pair of sparkling brown eyes.

“Morning” Tom says quietly. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed for the day in his usual suit, hair fixed and the outlining of a gun showing underneath his suit jacket. 

“Good morning,” you respond, voice soft and full of sleep. Sitting up in the soft bed and pulling the sheets around you, you lean closer towards him. Gently you place your hand on his cheek, stroking his skin you feel the faint trace of stubble. He smells of his lemon and cedar soap and faintly of cigarettes. Pressing your lips softly against his other cheek, and then on his jawline,  you whisper against his skin, “Do you really have to go?”

You can tell he’s focusing on his breathing, and as you lean back his dark eyes, glossed over and pupils dilated, are focused on your lips. His own mouth is slightly opened, and he’s leaning in towards you. Just as he’s about to press his lips against yours he murmurs, “Afraid so, darling.” He leans back and winks at you, a devilish smile on his lips. 

“Don’t worry, angel, I’ll give you everything you want soon enough.”He stands up and moves towards the door. “I’ll be back before you know it, just doing some collecting today; shouldn’t be more than an hour. I’ll come back and we’ll have lunch, yeah?”

He’s leaned against the doorway, hands in suit pockets, the stolen Rolex on his wrist glistening in the early morning light coming in through the window. He’s all wicked smiles and dimples and his eyes are gleaming as he looks at you; sitting in the middle of the bed, white sheets pulled around you and hair loose, your skin kissed by the sun streaming in.

You smile back at him and letting go of the sheets you let them fall around you. Leaning back against your elbows you slowly spread your bent legs; looking at him all the while. He’s got his dark eyes fixated on where your spread legs meet. Slowly walking towards you, like a hunter approaching its prey. Reaching the bed he leans over it, grabs hold of your thighs, and pulls you towards him until he’s pressed up against your naked crotch. Leaning over you, hands resting on either side of your face, he whispers in a low voice against your lips, “Such a devious little temptress, aren’t you?”

He leans back and falls down on his knees. Kissing the soft inside of your thigh he bites the sensitive skin, leaving a wet and burning spot, he blows cold air on it and you shiver. He looks up at you, wicked smile in place and eyes sparkling with pleasure. “You could tempt a saint you know?” he says, voice thick with bewildered wonder as he presses his soft lips against your cunt, before licking up your slit, eagerly. “How’s a poor devil like me supposed to stand a chance?” 

***  

There’s a flickering light above your head and the hallway smells of something rotten. The dark medallion wallpaper and crimson-coloured carpet make it feel like the room is spinning slightly around you. 

You’re just about to carefully lock the door to Tom’s apartment, having decided to go home and change before lunch, when you hear a creaking on the floor behind you. Something like alarm bells go off in your head, and you turn around only to be hit with something heavy and sharp right by your mouth.   

A ringing in your ear, and the whole room seems to change perspective, turn on its side somehow. It takes you a second to realize that it isn’t the room that has fallen; it is you. Something above you moves, but you can’t see clearly, just the outlines of a blurred shadow coming closer and closer and a smell you can’t place but is stronger than the rotten smell of the hallway. And then a wet cloth covers your mouth.

Memories of when you were a child, swimming in the municipal pool, flash before your eyes and you can’t understand why.

Only, just before everything turns dark, does it hit you.  

Chloroform. 

*** 

The first thing your mind registers as you wake is a sore neck. A sore neck and a stinging nose and a back that feels uncomfortably stiff. You try to open your eyes but find the world just as dark as when you had them closed. Trying to move your hands you realize that they have been tied behind the uncomfortable chair you’ve been placed in.  

Panic rises like bile in your throat and you want to scream, but the sound refuses to leave your lips, as if the panic itself is blocking it from leaving. Trying to kick your legs you realize that they too have been bound.  

“She’s awake,” someone mutters behind you and you freeze, heart beating so hard in your chest that it’s hard to hear anything but the blood rushing through your system. “Go tell Jack,” the voice orders, and a pair of heavy footsteps move across the floor and soon a door opens and shuts.  

Laying all your focus on your breathing, trying not to hyperventilate, you try to keep in control of yourself, though you can feel sweat begin to form on your forehead. You feel hyper- aware of your own body, of the rope digging into the fragile skin of your wrists, of the hard chair underneath you, of your own mortality and the dangerous situation you are in. You had been in a situation like this before, in a now very familiar apartment in Mile’s End. But even though you had been frightened then, it is nothing compared to the terror that grips hold of you now.

Soon a door opens, and footsteps move across the floor again.  

“Now boys, is this the way you treat a lady?” A deep voice roars in an Irish brogue. “Have I taught you no manners?” The footsteps move closer and closer until they’re standing behind you.  

“You big lads so scared of a girl you need to tie her up?” You hear how the man fiddles with something, only to realise that he’s untying the rope around your legs. Soon you feel the rope loose; but you are too frightened to even try to move them out of their uncomfortable position.   

“Now unless you think this tied- up wench will overpower me, I suggest you get a fucking move on, yeah?”  the man continues, as he frees your wrists as well.  

No verbal answer follows, just the sound of a dozen of boots moving across the floor until eventually, the door shuts; leaving the room in silence apart from your ragged breaths and rabbit heart; pounding so hard in your chest you’re sure it’s clear for anyone to hear.   

Then there’s a sudden movement by your head and then – you can see again.   

Disoriented you blink into the light. The man, Jack you presume, pulls a chair across the floor, the scraping noise almost alarmingly loud to your panicked senses, and he sits down opposite you. Carefully you move your stiff hands from their position behind your back, slowly moving them to your front and placing them on your knees. 

“There we go,” Jack says in a low, gruff voice that tells of years of smoking.  

 He’s probably in his early fifties, with blond hair that has begun to turn white and a neatly trimmed beard. A long scar is etched across his cheek. Wearing a rather worn grey suit he’s leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed and comfortable; the very opposite to how you are feeling. There’s something both harmless and, at the same time, absolutely terrifying about him. He’s almost disarming in his lack of threats, his slow, low way of talking and the patient, curious way he’s looking at you. You can’t get a read of the man, and that frightens you.  

The room you’re in doesn’t help to make you feel more comfortable. It looks like an abandoned old apartment, wallpapers half torn down and a broken chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It’s dark outside the dirty window, and you wonder for how long you’ve been unconscious. An entire day must have passed since this morning.  

“Now girl, you and I are gonna have a little chat about an old friend of mine,” he starts. 

You don’t respond, waiting for him to reveal his hand before you make up your mind about how to play your cards with this unknown man. 

“Now, child,” he continues, “what do you know of Fabien Towner?” 

You’re taken aback at that. Somehow, subconsciously, you must have assumed that this kidnapping by this evident gangster had something to do with your father and his work as home secretary. That you had been picked out to provide information about a man you had never as much as laid eyes on had not occurred to you.  

“All I know is what’s written in the newspapers.” You answer, only somewhat truthfully, since Tom has told you a few things about the feared London mobster as well.  

“Sweetheart,” he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound, “do I look like the sort of man who reads the papers?” He’s smiling at you, though it seems malignant. You are reminded of a cat, playing with its food before it eats it. “I know better than to believe a word that's written in them,” he adds and grins, “after all, they write that I’m a bad man.”

“But alright then, let’s play that game,” he snaps, and the sudden change from almost playful to deadly serious has your heart faltering in your chest. “What do you know of a young mister Tom Holland, hm?” 

If your heart was faltering in your chest before, it positively stops beating now. Your first instinct is to deny your knowledge of Tom’s existence. To say you’ve never heard that name. But you must keep your head cold, be calm and clever. This man knows very well that you know who Tom is, you were after all attacked when leaving his apartment.  

“Not much,” you say, and your voice is frailer than you’d hoped. “He’s just a man I’ve been seeing”.  

Jack’s hard, blue eyes are fixed on yours. He observes you for a while before saying, “You seemed very cozy with him at Romantique. I’m the owner of that club, I damn well know who frequents it, and what they get up to in it.”

It hits you then, and you want to groan at how slow you’ve been. This is Jack, the Jack Flanagan, the owner of club Romantique and Fabien’s sworn enemy, who has infiltrated the Firm with a traitor. 

“Yes, I met Tom there, but I don’t know anything about Fabien Towner.”  

Jack keeps his intense eyes fixed on you, as if he’s trying to read any slight change in your face. He scratches the roughened skin of his scarred cheek almost absentmindedly. “Come on now, I know how young men work when they’re trying to impress a pretty girl. They boast about how big and bad and ballsy they are. He’s told you about his,” and there’s a slight pause and a wicked grin before he continues, “profession, I presume?”

“All I know is he’s part of the Firm,” you say and sniff, “do you think he’d tell me anything? I’m just some girl he fucks. I don’t think he cares at all about me.” Your voice breaks as you speak, and two tears fall down your cheeks as you lie. They aren’t hard to fabricate in your current state of mind. You need to make him believe that Tom would never spill any secrets to you, because if this man in front of you,; his entire aura shouting of danger, finds any hint of the secrets stuck in your throat he’s bound to beat them out of you. 

“Now that’s not a very nice thing to do,” Jack says in a low voice, and a smile spreads over his lips. “How would you like some revenge?” 

Fear holds such a hard grip on your heart then that you are sure it’s bound to stop beating altogether. “What do you mean?” you ask, trying to hide your terror.  

Jack smiles even wider, and something like a shiver moves up your spine. “You see,” he starts in his broad brogue, “old Fabien is not a man of many weaknesses. He’s a, well, I guess you can say a friend of mine. I know him well. I know what makes him tick.” He leans forward, resting his arms on his widespread legs, his intense eyes still fixed on yours. “Now I want him to stop ticking.”

Trying to swallow down the panic you answer in a cool voice, “and how could I possibly help with that?” 

“Like I said, Fabien is not a man of many weaknesses. But he’s got a blind spot when it comes to that lad. I’ve heard the rumours; the Devil’s Boy, that’s what they call him, and that’s the way Fabien sees him. I’ve met Tom, on the night you danced with him in my nightclub in fact. And he's brought up by the devil alright,” he pauses, a grim smile on his face. “In order to get to Fabien, I need to get to the boy. And that’s where you come in, miss. See, Tom is Fabien’s weakness, so I’m gonna need you to become Tom’s weakness.” 

“And how do you expect me to achieve that?” you ask, voice shaking slightly despite all your efforts to keep it under control. You feel like you’re trembling all over, like your very soul is rattling inside of you. Nothing seems real, nothing in this nightmarish scenario or in this strange room; nothing except for those bleak, intense eyes looking at you, and that low, gruff voice speaking of betrayal of the worst kind.  

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Like a little bird. I’m sure you could convince him to stick around, to open up; to trust you. Then all this little bird needs to do is fly to me and sing her song, and I shall see to the rest, and you will have your revenge.” 

You feel ice-cold all over, as if the blood itself in your veins have frozen. “And what kind of song does the bird sing? What is it that you need to know from me?” 

“For now, I just need you to make him trust you. When the time is right, when everything is ready to be set in motion, I shall tell you the plan. What do you say?”  

You don’t know if he’s honestly offering you a choice or not, if he’d even let you live if you refused him, but slowly you nod your head, and the smile grows bigger on his face, and his cold, blue eyes sparkle.   

 “Good,” he says, and rises from his chair. “Now it’s time for this little bird to be set free.” 

*** 

Your legs feel unsteady and unsure underneath you as you make your way up the familiar steps to your house. You can hear the car that dropped you off drive away, but you don’t look back, you don’t ever want to look back again but it feels like you will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder after this. You feel heavy all over, every limb slowly moving forward underneath the weight, burdened with a terrible secret.   

Letting yourself in, you quietly make your way through the hall, wanting to avoid seeing anyone since that would mean you’d have to explain your split lip and your sore wrists. The skin of your lip pulses uncomfortably. You must have attained the injury this morning as you got attacked outside of Tom’s apartment. 

With quiet feet you move up the stairs to your bedroom, needing only to change your clothes and leave a message for your father to let him know you will be sleeping at a friend’s house for a night or two. You jot the message down in spidery letters, so unlike your normally neat handwriting; your hands refusing to collaborate with you as they keep shaking. You leave the message on your desk, knowing that Mason will find it later and pass the information on to your father. 

You fill the bathtub with water and scented oil, needing to wash the reminders of today off of you before you are ready to face Tom. Quickly ridding yourself out of your dirty dress, you step into the lukewarm water and start the process of scrubbing your skin clean. After having washed up, you change into another dress, feeling great relief in feeling the freshly washed fabric against your skin.

Looking at yourself in the mirror you cannot help but be taken aback at the sight. You have a split and swollen lip, your hair is a mess and your eyes seem bigger than normal; as if you are a frightened animal. Knowing there is nothing to do about the lip you try to smooth your hair, before giving up, deciding instead to pin it up into something a little more respectable.  

In your new dress and hair, you look a little more put together, though your eyes remain frightened.  

Packing a small bag with some essential clothes and hygiene products you creep out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind you. Your father’s voice booms out from the library, as he’s speaking on the telephone with someone. Passing the door on your tiptoes, as not to make a sound, a name caught your attention.  

“Yes, Fabien’s boy.” 

You stop dead in your tracks, listening carefully as your father goes on. “He’s been causing uproar in all the underworld. He set fire to a pub in Camden this afternoon, one of Flanagan’s places, and he’s been involved in a dozen fights all over the East End.”

Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to be quiet as your father keeps talking. “No, apparently he’s looking for some woman. A kidnapping they say.” Your father listens as the voice on the other side of the phone speaks before he keeps going. “Yes, of course, but if this means we have another gang war on our hands there needs to be readjustments. 

You walk away, as quickly and quietly as you can, and step back out into the night. Never have you been in such a hurry to find a taxi in your life.

*** 

After having paid the driver, you rush up to Tom’s apartment, all four stairs, never slowing for a moment. You’re not sure of what you’re about to meet in the apartment but as you push the door open and rush inside you are relieved to see the figure of a man standing there.

Only to soon realise that it is not Tom. 

The man is blond, and about the same age as Tom and dressed much the same in a dark suit. One of his arms is wrapped up in bandages. You recognize him as the man who came to pick Tom up the morning after you spent your first night at his place. A friend then, and not a foe. 

He stands up from the sofa when he sees you, and smiles, seemingly relieved. “Thank fuck,” he mutters, moving closer. Standing in front of you, impressive in his length and stature, he observes your wounded face with a frown. 

“Any other injuries?” He asks, voice collected but underneath his calm stature, you think you can sense a wave of anger. 

You shake your head, unsure of what to say. 

He nods, takes a gentle hand on your arm and leads your numb body to the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down. After you have done so he moves across the floor to the phone, his long legs taking wide strides. Dialing in a number he stands there, leaning against the wall, still observing you as he waits for the number to go through.

“Yeah, Harry? It’s Haz,” he says into the phone. “She’s here.”

There’s a loud voice on the other end of the line but you can’t make out what it is saying. “Yeah, yeah, well you need to let him know then, don’t you? Before he causes any more damage.” More silence as he listens to the other man. “No, apart from a split lip she’s unharmed,” and he looks over you again as he speaks, “she looks pretty fucking shaken though so get a fucking move on, yeah?” He hangs up. 

In your wild haze of suffocating numbness, it strikes you how unlike Tom this Haz is, despite your first confusion. His accent is polished and posh despite his attempts to hide it. His back is almost impossibly straight as he’s holding himself upright and his young face looks taut. You wonder how a young man like this ended up within the ranks of the Firm. 

He crouches down in front of you as you sit on the sofa, his knees bent until you are at eye level.  “Have you had anything to eat?” He asks in a soft voice that takes you with surprise. 

“No,” you mumble, only realizing now that it’s the case. But you’ve been so full of terror the entire day you’ve hardly even noticed. Haz has a frown on his face and a worried look in his eyes as he scans you over. 

“Alright,” he sighs and gets up, moving across the room to the kitchen. You keep your eyes ahead, fixated on faded wallpaper in front of you, as you hear clattering and muttered swears coming from the kitchen. 

Some while later Haz is back, a plate of sandwiches in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other. “Sorry,” he says, placing it down on the table in front of you, “fucker hasn’t got any milk.” 

You tell him you don’t mind, and thank him for his kindness, before tucking in. Only after having nearly devoured the first sandwich do you fully realize how hungry you’ve been. Haz sits down on the worn leather armchair, leaned forward and resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped in his lap. It is as if he’s ready to jump into action on the first sign of danger. He watches as you eat. 

“Hungry, ey?” He asks with a smile, as you swallow the last of your sandwich, reaching for the tea. 

“Famished,” you confess. 

For a few moments everything is silent in the darkened room, only lit up by the dim light coming from the kitchen. Outside you hear a car drive by. 

“How did he know of the abduction?” You ask in the end. 

Haz’s mouth tightens into a grimace, as if remembering something unpleasant. “The landlady saw as they carried you out to the car. She recognized you as Tom’s girl and let him know as soon as he came back.”

“How did he take it?” you ask, with reluctance. 

Haz looks away from you, avoids your eyes; the frown on his face growing deeper. “Let’s just say the boy’s got a talent for destruction when he puts his mind to it.”

“Where is he now?” 

“Well, last I heard he was,” he pauses, edits himself in the search for the right word, “he was interrogating someone in Hackney, trying to find a lead of where they took you,” he sighs. And then in a bitter tone, he adds, “I would have gone with him,” another sigh, “but out of combat, unfortunately. So I was put to stay here and wait to see if you’d return. Harry was placed in the pub, much to his indignation; ever the boy of action, while Fabien made Sam and a few others go after Tom. To try and reel him in a little.”

A bang, and then Tom comes crashing through the door. Harrison is on his feet, almost before you’ve registered the sound of the door slamming against the wall, gun in hand and aiming at the man in the hall. When he sees who it is he lowers the weapon and breathes out. 

Your eyes remain fixed on the man striding over to you. It’s like he’s unable to look away from you and as soon as you get within an arm's reach he pulls you towards him. With a hand carefully cupping your chin, he inspects your face, eyes glued to your split lip, a deep frown on his face. 

He turns to Harrison, who just nods at him; the taut frown relaxing and a smile pulling at his lips. “Alright, that’s me done for the night.”

“Harry’s sulking at the pub if you feel like cheering him up,” Tom tells him, still holding onto you. 

Harrison moves to the door, snorts loudly, and says in a voice that sounds done for, “You fucking Holland boys and your goddamn sulking.” And then he’s out, the door closing behind him.

Tom rests his forehead against yours, breathing slowly. “Hi,” he says, voice a quiet whisper. His fingers don’t stop stroking your cheek for a second. Then, “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.” It’s a savage kind of remorse, real like a physical presence in the room. To think that on this very morning you had laid in bed, wordlessly tempting him into staying there with you for a while.

You should have stayed in that bed forever with him.  

“Is it not your fault,” you tell him, knowing that it’s useless, and true enough, he shakes his head at the idea. 

 A deep sigh escapes him, as if he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding for a long time. You breathe him in, the familiar lemon and cedar soap; the faint trace of smoke. 

“Tonight I’m going to take care of you,” he says, stroking your cheek with his long, ring- clad finger, “gonna make sure that you’re alright.” He presses his lips softly against your temple. “And tomorrow,” he continues, voice hardened steel now, “tomorrow I’m going to take care of him.”

 “No,” you say softly, looking at the floor.  

 Dead silence wills the room for several heartbeats. Then, voice bewildered, “What?”

 He’s leaning away from you, though his big hands are still covering your jawline, your throat. “You can’t go after him,” you say, taking a slow breath, staring at his shoes. Slowly you take in Tom’s appearance for the first time. When he had crashed into the apartment all your attention had been on his face, but now, now you see the state of him. The once white dress shirt he wore this morning is stained with blood and dirt and the sleeve on his jacket has a burn mark. 

Tom pushes your face up to meet his eyes. Reluctantly your eyes follow. “And why can’t I do that?” he asks slowly, through gritted teeth. 

“Because I’m working for him now,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. For a moment he goes completely still and before he can react you keep going. “He is going after Fabien, he wants to bring him down. He thinks you are Fabien’s weakness, so he’s hired me to become your weakness. He wants to use you against Fabien, and use me against you. I told him yes.” 

Tom lets go of you, takes a step away from you, looks at you with big, wounded eyes. “What have you done?” he asks, sounding almost defeated. 

“I could play this to our advantage, we could -” but he interrupts you with a roar.

“Have you lost your fucking mind? You don’t know these men! You don’t understand what they’re capable of. They’d enjoy murdering you if it comes to that. Jack Flanagan’s the sort of man that would kill over an insult, do you have any fucking idea how badly he’d take a betrayal?” 

“Don’t you understand?” I am working for him now, just as the traitor does. I can find out who it is and once we know, Fabian will kill the traitor and once he is gone he can go after Jack with full force. We can play them against each other, don’t you get it?”

Tom is stunned silent for a moment, thinking over what you’ve said with a horrified expression on his face. “Does he know, does Jack know who your father is?”

You are silent for a long time, biting your lip in worry. “I don’t know. But I think so. I didn’t have to leave my name or address and they still knew where to drop me off.”

Tom looks pale. His eyes big and glossy as he looks at you, shoulders tense as he’s holding himself together. “I see,” he says, trying to remain calm, “so the two most dangerous men in London are aware of your relation to your father and are both more than capable at using that as leverage if needed.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you whisper.

And he’s in front of you again, holding onto your face, his body pressed tightly against yours, and maybe it’s imagination, but you think you can feel the drumming of his heartbeat underneath his chest; can feel your heart drum back to the beat of his. He’s breathing hard, slowly in and out, and his strong body is rigid, every nerve tense. You know that he’s trying to calm himself down; trying to get a hold of himself and all his fear and anger. Can feel it radiating off his body in waves. 

“I can do this, I can play them against each other.” You don’t know why you are whispering, except that maybe you want to make something in this whole situation gentle, in any way you know how. 

“I don’t like this, angel,” he says, his voice also a whisper, as he breathes slowly through his nose. “I really fucking hate this.”

You know that the road you have begun walking is a dangerous one, no doubt full of menace and doom. But you have chosen your road. “I know,” you whisper back, “but it’s the best shot we’ve got.”

You know, as you stroke his cheek, that you would do anything for him. Because it turns out that you are made up of the kind of never yielding devotion that is bound to end in tragedy, but as you look into his sad, brown eyes, tender as they look at you, you wonder if he isn’t made of the same. 

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.4)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Four) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 2,965 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior

Part Three || Part Five || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Tony’s office was expansive, but you were in such a small space of it.

You had just gotten back from your honeymoon and he stopped by the office to grab some paperwork and you had trailed along behind him. As soon as he had closed the door to his office, he had grabbed your hand, forcing it to his crotch. One thing led to another and you found yourself tucked underneath his desk, your mouth wrapped around his balls as he stroked himself, his head thrown back against his chair.

“Just like that,” Tony panted. “Keep flicking your tongue like that, princess.”

There was a sharp knock at the door and the two of you froze. His door opened and your eyes widened at the prospect of being caught in this position. Tony was chill as a cucumber though, both his hands coming up on his desk immediately.

“Rhodey,” Tony said sounding surprised to see him and for good reason. You had only stopped in, not announcing you were going to be here. You breathed evenly through your nose but the feeling of it made his cock twitch, it brushing your face. He shifted at the even slight contact, hopefully unnoticed.

“Huh, you are here,” Rhodey said from over by the door. “Maria said she saw you come in. Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?”

“Just got back. Landed the helicopter outside actually.”

“Where’s Y/N?”

You were not moving, waiting for Rhodey to leave. Tony’s balls were still settled in your mouth as you sat suspended in the lewd act.

“Uh, went to get something to drink I think. She should be back. Just… stopped in to grab some stuff.”

There was a small pause, and you could only imagine the awkwardness exchanged in their looks.

“You alright?” Rhodey asked uncertainly.

“Perfect. Why?”

Another pause.

“No reason...” Rhodey said trailing off. “Well, you should finish your vacation. You work too much. Gotta make sure that you’re doting on the missus too.”

“Is the single man trying to give me relationship advice about my marriage?” Tony could not help but to quip.

Rhodey laughed and said, “Jackass. I’ll see you next week. Stay out of the office until then after this, you hear me? You’ll thank me for forcing that and so will Y/N.”

“Loud and clear.”

When the door closed, you sucked hard. Tony grunted in response and then a strangled laugh left his throat.

“Good girl. You’re so well trained,” he praised, guiding his dick to your eager mouth.

<><><>

You sat in the back of the car with Tony, your arms crossed tightly across your chest, staring out the window. You were not even trying to hide the tears trailing down your cheeks, thinking of how hurt Liam was in and the aftermath of it. Tony had been angry with you before, Cassandra’s party for one example. And you had both been inebriated which only exacerbated the situation. But him sober though and angry? This was a new experience. You felt a twinge of fear of if he had gotten it out of his system or if he had something else planned. He threatened punishment though, hadn’t he?

He was silent the whole way home, but you could feel the fury. He would not even look at you, sitting as far away as possible.

When Happy pulled into the garage and parked the car, Tony was out of the car quickly. You gathered up your bags before getting out of the car. Tony was striding ahead of you down the garage, not waiting for you.

You caught Happy’s eyes and huffed when he tried to take the bags from you. “I can do it myself, thanks.”

Happy’s hands fell back down to his sides and he looked miffed, but you ignored it, beginning to follow Tony. He stormed inside and was making a beeline for your bedroom. You were already tensing, thinking of the spanking you were going to get. You followed him all the same into the master bedroom and went into your closet to put your bags down.

When you turned back around, you found him looming in the doorway.

He let out a humorless laugh, breaking the silence the two of you had been suspended in. You bit at your cheeks, waiting for him to explode because you had seen him like this before; that manic type laughter.

Tony threw out his arms, “I just don’t get it, baby! I mean, are you really that fucking stupid? You thought taking a plane to another state – let alone city – wasn’t going to piss me off to high heaven? And you hole up in some hotel with some guy like some skank—”

“I didn’t have sex with him!” you interrupted him, offended.

He looked furious at your interjection. “Don’t interrupt me!” He took steps towards you, hands on his hips. “Why the fuck did he answer your phone?”

“I was in the bath! I was telling him to hang up!”

“Didn’t hear that. Odd.”

“Yeah, because it would sound really suspicious if you could. Like I had something to hide!” you said defensively. “He’s stupid but he’s harmless. He didn’t know it was going to piss you off so much.”

“Sure, nothing to hide. I mean you even said you loved him in front of me.”

“I say that to all my friends. It didn’t mean—"

“And then I tell you to come home,” Tony interrupted you now, his voice rising, and you felt it about to boil over. “And what do you do? You can’t even follow that direction even though everything is perfectly laid out for you. Perfectly! Every little fucking step of the way! All you had to do was listen. But no! You have to go and make it difficult for no. good. goddamn. reason!”

He bellowed the last, slamming his hand down on one of your dressers, making you flinch back. He was burning holes into you with how intensely he was staring at you and you folded, your eyes downcast, heat coming to your cheeks. You did not like it when he yelled, especially when it was directed at you. You were truly regretting stoking his anger this much.

“Tell me why, Y/N!” Tony continued shouting. “Tell me why you have to push my fucking buttons! Why can’t you just be good?”

“I’m sorry,” you said hoarsely, tears stinging your eyes.

Tony inhaled deeply, exhaling shakily. He turned on his heel suddenly, leaving you alone in the closet. You heard him slam the bedroom door closed as he left.

You stood in silence, not knowing what to do. After a few minutes, you timidly walked out of the closet, finding the bedroom empty. You shuffled to the bed, sitting down tensely, waiting worriedly.

He returned to the bedroom, the buttons undone on his shirt along his chest and at his wrists. You knew it was because he was getting ready to put effort into making sure you learned your lesson and he would need all the range of motion he could get.

“Go,” he ordered you.

You followed his direction without a moment’s hesitation, knowing he wanted you in the room behind his study where all your toys were. The door in the bookcase was already open and you scurried inside, him on your heels.

His next demand came the moment you crossed the threshold, “Strip.”

You did as he asked hearing him close the door behind him. Quickly, you were standing naked before him. He was barely sparing you a glance, not taking the time to acknowledge you and that cut deep.

“The bench,” he ordered tautly.

Dragging your feet only a little at his icy demeanor, your body shook in anticipation. You climbed up onto the restraint bench, feeling the air move beside you as he came to stand by you. You chewed on your bottom lip, your head hanging, staying still as he tightened the restraints around your wrists and then moved down to your calves.

He was still not speaking to you past the curt commands, and you heard him walk off. You did not dare try to lift your head to follow him, keeping yourself curled in as much as you could. You thought worriedly of what whip or paddle he was going to choose to dole out your punishment. You prayed it was not the ball chain because that one would hurt. He had only used that one to stimulate you, but you only thought now of how much that impact would hurt if he used his full strength.

His footfalls met your ears and you twitched, trying to will yourself to not tense up because that was going to make it worse.

The sound cracked through the room and you gasped, your toes curling. There was no massage or build up to get you warmed up this time. He was using the leather slapper, the triple impact increasing the hit. One you knew all too well, whether it be for pleasure or to teach you a lesson. He was able to be close with it too, increasing his precision.

Tony had not asked you to count, so you did not before the second blow hit. You hissed when the third hit and tears stung when the fourth landed directly dead center across your ass. He was leaving small breaks in between but not too long. The next hit lower near your thighs and you choked out a whimper; he had done that on purpose, he knew it hurt. The next was higher and you could hear him breathing heavier. He was putting his back into the hits.

The tenth fell finally and you almost breathed in relief when you heard him walk away from you. Your ass was stinging, and you thought miserably of the bruises that were to show up.

He only gave you a moment’s reprieve. Tony’s hands were at your calves, undoing the restraints and he did the same for your wrists. Changing positions was bittersweet; your muscles stretched but the pain on your backside caused you to wince. Your legs shook as he helped you to your feet and he pulled you along to beside the bed. You thought for a moment he was going to let you lay down and relief began to flood through you, foolishly thinking that it had not been so bad after all. But you saw the pillows on the ground beside the bed and the toy mounted on the ground.

“On your knees,” he said letting go of your arm.

You painfully lowered to the ground, resting your knees on the pillows – something he had thankfully considered, you fleetingly thought.

Reflexively, you began to lower to rest your head on your elbows to release some pressure from your legs and he snapped his fingers at you, “No. Up.”

You did your best to bite back a complaint, sighing pathetically instead. You kept your eyes downcast still, not sending him a challenge with meeting his eyes.

The toy slid in slowly and your fingers flexed on the floor as you adjusted to it. Tony was controlling it, the speed, the depth. It was shallow at first, working you up. He was pacing and you could feel his stare as he watched the silicone go in and out. He had ultimate control of how hard you were going to get impaled and a first row seat to watch. You did your best to stay in the same position that he wanted, trying to be good. This was without restraints, he wanted you to do it on your own, and you wanted him to forgive you.

Tony turned on the vibrator setting suddenly, and you keened at the sensation. It dragged across your clit, sending reverberations through you as the toy continued thrusting in and out. You were growing slick, relaxing into the movement the deeper it plunged. The dull ache was being overpowered by the tightening in your core with every brush against your g-spot. It was getting harder now to not push back into the toy for more stimulation to release and come.

Fidgeting, your breath was becoming short as you felt yourself spiraling towards release.

Tony turned the toy off.

You blinked, feeling sorrow at the quickly dissipating high you had almost reached the apex of.

His breath was hot on your ear, “If you come on this toy, I’ll put you right back up on the bench. You got me?” You nodded and he demanded, “Answer me!”

“Yes, daddy,” you choked out pathetically. “I understand.”

“You better,” he warned, straightening back up. “You’re not coming until it’s on my dick and until you’ve proved you deserve it and earned my forgiveness, you’re not getting me.”

He only gave you a few more moments reprieve before the toy turned back on. You bit at your bottom lip, trying to ignore the sensation in the toy’s movements now that you knew what the stakes were. He was pacing again and you could imagine his glossed over eyes as he watched the toy sliding in past your folds, taking in the redness on your ass that he had put there. Your chest was rising and falling as you moved to try to keep your thoughts anywhere but here.

Tony pushed you right to the edge and when it was getting hard to ignore it, he turned it off again to your immense relief. Your breaths were coming short and heavy, your arms beginning to shake. You just wanted to lay down.

He started it up again and you let out a small cry. Everything was going to be so sore.

The sound of him walking away while the toy was still thrusting, at a slower pace thankfully, drew your attention and you almost turned your head to follow him. You managed to catch yourself at the last second, swallowing sharply and forcing yourself to look back down at the ground. The pressure was building quicker this time with how worked up you already were, and you hoped he was not gone for long. You did not want to come undone and disappoint him. And you sure as hell did not want to be back on the bench.

It felt like forever but logically it had to have been a handful of minutes. The toy was still thrusting steadily, working you gradually towards an orgasm rather than rushing. You could handle this. You could do this. It was going okay.

Until it was not. The dildo increased in speed and you sighed, closing your eyes tight. You heard a creak and you hoped it was him returning.

Another change, it moved deeper. And the vibration.

“Daddy, please,” you whimpered, unable to help yourself.

You knew he could hear you if he was still able to control the toy from where he was. He had not completely abandoned you. Broken, soft cries left your lips as your fingers dug into the floor, willing yourself to try to keep yourself from tumbling.

A gasp of relief exploded from you when the toy turned off. You heard the door open fully again and you sniffled, visibly shaking on your arms now as the toy retracted.

Tony’s shoes appeared in your line of sight and he swooped down, helping you stand. You were weak in the knees, letting him guide you. You mournfully watched the bed disappear from view as he moved you along towards the door back to his study. Where was he taking you now?

Hope blossomed at the sight of the light on in the bathroom down the hall. And your wishes were answered: he had drawn up a warm bath and you almost cried.

“There’s Epsom salt in there,” he told you stiffly.

“Thank you,” you said immediately.

He did not respond and instead put his hand in the water, testing the temperature. “It should be fine now.”

Lowering into the tub, you hissed half in pleasure feeling the warmth and half because of how sore your ass was, touching the bottom of the tub. Slowly, you relaxed, relishing in the tension release that was provided by the salts. Your eyes followed Tony freely now as he walked out of the bathroom.

When he returned, he had a pair of pajamas that he placed on the counter, before shooting you a look.

“Don’t stay in too long. It’s almost 2 in the morning. You need to sleep,” he said sternly. You nodded feebly and his eyes swept over you once before he turned on his heel and left the bathroom again.

<><><>

You woke up with your head buried in your pillow, your arms tucked safely underneath it. You had opted to sleep on your stomach, relieving the ache in your ass. You spotted that Tony’s side of the bed was still empty, which meant he had not come to bed. The bed felt cold without him, even though you were snuggled far underneath the blankets. Maybe he had slept in another room or on the couch. The thought of that only made you feel guilty.

You got out of bed, wincing at having to sit up to stand. Your leg caught as you moved, and you took a moment to stretch as much as you could. You pushed the button next to the window, opening the heavy curtains, letting the sun come in. Squinting against the light, you stared out over the ocean.

A couple of minutes of fresh air might do you some good, you thought sleepily.

Your hand fell onto the balcony door, the handle reading your fingerprint to unlock.

F.R.I.D.A.Y echoed over the speaker, “You are not authorized to open this door, Mrs. Stark.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21

Fic tags: @kvzctam, @farihafangirls, @teenageregression, @mrsnegan25

[schrijverr]

Surprise Hit

On a con Eliot is recognized by someone who has a hit on him and has to run.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: mentions of some mafia dealings

~~~~~~~~~~~

The con went to shit.

This happened often enough with a mark not making the expected choice, a firewall taking longer to crack than anticipated or someone showing up that was not supposed to. It was normal, however the way it went to shit this time was unique. “Nate, I got a problem,” Eliot announced.

“What is it?” Nate asked over the coms. It was an integral part of the plan that Eliot talked to their mark, John Fernsby, and convinced him to meet with Sophie. Nate would have done it, but he had already been the one to go in and convince the billionaire that thebusiness was worth investing in and Hardison was needed to help Parker into the safe. It had to be Eliot.

But Eliot said there was a problem, which was bad. However, it was about to get worse when Eliot answered: “He’s talking with a foreign dignitary, but I know he isn’t. That’s Mikhail Volkov, Russian mob. He has a hit out on me.”

“The fuck, man,” Hardison replied.

“I didn’t pick it either, okay,” Eliot hissed back. “But if he sees me, we’re fucked. Well, I’m fucked and someone has to take my part in the con.”

Hardison had pulled up the camera feed of the gala and watched how Eliot turned away from the mark and tried to leave them room without pulling any attention to himself. He almost managed too, were it not for a serenade band coming in right as he was near the exit.

It was such a stupid little thing that they couldn't have predicted and it was so incredibly ill-timed that Eliot had no room to come up with something. Mikhail turned to the band and saw Eliot, his brow furrowed and he yelled: “Stop that man!” as Eliot started to sprint, multiple people now on his trail.

He pushed over furniture behind him and swerved while a few bullets started to fly around his head, dangerously close. In his ear Hardison was giving him directions to Lucille, but he knew he could not return to the team. Not right now.

The Russian mob was not known for their leniency and if they thought he had people he worked with, then they would only target them as well. No, he had to go into hiding on his own and return to them later, when he could shake off his pursuers. In his ear he heard Hardison rant at him as he took the wrong turn, but Eliot didn’t care. He had a plan.

On the street it was easier to disappear, though he got many looks from people as they cleared the way for him while he ran like a madman. There were a few screams when the Russians appeared behind him with guns.

If it were a normal day and he was on his own, he would have stayed to fight them, but he was wearing a suit he couldn't easily fight in and Sophie and Parker had still been in the building, he couldn't risk them for something stupid he’d done in the past. And when he was outside, he didn’t have the surprise advantage or the closeness to take on that many guys with guns.

So, he ran.

His lungs were burning in his chest and his legs would be jelly were it not for the fact that he regularly ran long tracks in case he got in this exact situation.

It took a while, but the bullets stopped flying around his head and he couldn't hear any footsteps behind him anymore. He took a moment to focus on the chatter over the coms. His brain hadn’t heardany of the key words to get his attention in the background, so he assumed it was all fine.

“Eliot, Eliot, are you listening to me?” That was Nate.

“I’m here,” he grunted, checking in the alley if there was anyone still following, before starting to climb the fire escape.

“What are you doing? Hardison’s GPS says you’re nowhere near the hotel. We need to regroup and figure out our next move,” Nate said as Sophie asked: “Are you okay, Eliot?”

He replied: “I’m fine, Sophie. Just didn’t want to lead a group of armed mobster to our hotel room when their goal is to kill me and all my associates.”

“They’re coming to kill us?” Hardison’s squeaky voice came through the speaker.

“Not if they don’t know I’m with you,” Eliot assured him, “which is why I’m not at the hotel right now. I think I’ve shaken them off, but just in case I’m taking a long way round. Probably won’t come through the doors.”

Thenhe tuned them out again. It might be rude and he heard they were still asking him all sorts of questions, but he wasn’t in the mood to answer. He had other things to focus on and the last thing he wanted was to tell them why there was a hit on his head from this particular mobster.

Going through the city over the roof, he saw a few familiar stances and haircuts stationed at public places where he would hide, as well as at the hotels and he knew he had made the right decision to take this route.

Mentally he was trying to figure out why Mikhail was here of all places talking with their mark. It could be that he was laundering money and their mark having a connection with the mob could both help and be an issue. He could get into witness protection in turn for information, but it was also proof that his business wasn’t clean, even if they had wanted to get him for the stealing of company funds that screwed over his employees’ safety.

But that was not his business to think about, but Nate’s. He would wait for what the man had to say about this development, but in order to do that, he needed to get back to the hotel.

There were also “guards” at the entrance of their hotel, but the team was only on the fourth floor and while they weren’t close to the fire escape, Eliot could get up high and then go side wards over the ridge to their window.

He gave Hardison a heart attack when he got at the window. They hadn’t left it open, much to his chagrin, but were luckily there to open it for him and it was better not to have a weakness in the defense, so he couldn't blame them.

“What the hell, man,” Hardison said. “Give someone a warning before you go around showing up in front of the window. Did you even have safety or something? We’re up high. You could have fallen to your death, Eliot.”

“Yeah and if I had gone through the front door, I would have been shot,” he pointed out tiredly from where he was lying on the floor.

Parker was looking out the window and smiled: “Oeh, that’s a good climbing ridge indeed.”

“Woman!” Hardison exclaimed, while Eliot said: “We could do without the attention to our room, Parker, maybe next time.” She looked sad and glanced over one more time, before closing the window with a pout.

“Care to explain what happened?” Nate asked as he leaned over him. He did that face where he attempted innocence, but failed.

“Got recognized by someone who’s sort of actively trying to kill me,” Eliot replied with what they already knew.

“Sort of actively?” Sophie asked and Eliot was glad he could explain something not that bad to them instead of the other stuff. “Yeah, there’s a difference between saying, ‘hey if you manage to kill this person and prove it you get money,’ and ‘I am hiring you to kill this person within a time frame.’ Mikhail is the former. If I die, he would be happy, but he’s not putting extra resources in finding me and eliminating me.”

“And why would be be happy if you’re dead?” Fucking Nate always sticking his nose everywhere.

“I met him once,” Eliot wasn’t giving him shit.

“Would I be correct in assuming that the meeting ended in a loss on his end?” Nate replied.

“Maybe.” He was neither confirming or denying, not if there was no explicit reason. He hadn’t felt bad about the blow to Mikhail’s organization. It hadn’t been the worst he’d done and Mikhail had a smuggling ring of sex workers and that had been awful to find.

“Okay, so we know Fernsby has connections to the Russian mob,” Nate thought out loud. “So, he’s not only stealing money from his employees, but laundering dirty money as well. If we can tie those together then we’re set.”

“Mikhail has a weakness for brunettes,” Eliot informed him, not telling him how he got that tidbit of knowledge. “He also likes gambling.”

Nate got a glint in his eye as he looked to Sophie, who smiled back. Of course those two would have a plan without needing to communicate.

“You’re out for the rest of the con,” Nate told him. “Can’t have you risk the entire thing if you’re recognized.”

“What? No!” Eliot sat up. “I need to be there to have your back. With the Russians it’s only going to get more dangerous. I’m not leaving you to your fate with those people, they’re dangerous, Nate. This isn’t just some cushy billionaire anymore.”

“And what if he gets suspicious of Sophie because of you, what will you do then, Eliot?” Nate shot back. “I’m not saying you need to stay here, but I am saying you need to keep out of sight. You’re with Hardison in Lucille.”

Eliot wanted to protest, wanted to be closer to the danger in case it went to shit, he wanted to be there when a mistake from his past came back, but he couldn't argue with Nate’s logic and sometimes he hated that about the man.

So, he found himself watching the screens in Lucille as Sophie tried to get Mikhail to make a gamble on her company, to ditch Fernsby, because he was doing it without him and leaving him out of the profits.

He was filled with jittery energy, but so far so good.

“Hey, Eliot,” Hardison opened. “What’s it like, you know, to have a hit on your head? I mean, I’m wanted in some countries, but that’s just boring government stuff, not actual people, like persons, wanting me dead personally, you know.”

“Are you really asking me what it’s like when someone wants you killed?” Eliot asked him.

“I guess,” Hardison shrugged, trying not to look like he wanted to know the answer and failing miserably.

“It’s not that different from being wanted by the government, I suppose,” Eliot finally answered, surprising Hardison. “You just gotta watch out for different things and hope no one is desperate enough for cash to go after you. I have a good enough reputation that hardly anyone tries, but I’ve had periods where I had multiple people on my trail across a dozen countries. It was exhausting, but I get it. Kill me and you can make a lot of people with a lot of money happy.”

“Wait, hold on, reverse and repeat,” Hardison said. “A lot of people?”

“Yeah,” Eliot replied, didn’t Hardison know this? “I got more than one hit on my head. I think it’s five. Used to be six, but one of them died and the bounty fell through. Though I never knew if that one English guy put one on my head as well. And of course, the countries, but those are always lazy about it, so I don’t worrry too much about those.”

“What the fuck, man.”

Eliot didn’t see the big deal. He had done a lot to deserve it and he had learned to live with it. He hadalways kept one eye open anyway.

He focused back on the screen, despite the hiccup earlier with him, the con ran smoothly on its new course and Sophie was phenomenal as he pitted the two guys against one another, making them sell each other out in the end.

Nate was there with the police and both were arrested with illegal cash on their hands and a lot of bank records detailing their dirty schemes as well as showing the abysmal circumstances of the workers that had gone unaddressed in favor of laundering money.

Later when they were sitting in the bar, Nate turned to him and asked: “Any more of that we should be worried about?”

Before Eliot could answer, Hardison had jumped in: “Apparently between five and six more times.”

“No, between four and five,” Eliot corrected. “Mikhail is no longer on the list, but honestly we couldn't have predicted this and there are too many bad guys I’ve known, double crossed, worked for or left that are still out there. We can’t account for all of them. I’ll try to be aware of which marks could have ties to other’s I’ve known, but you don’t get to be good in my line of work without enemies.”

Nate wanted to say something else, but Sophie was quicker. “I’m not keeping track of all the people I have grifted either, Nate,” she said. “We all have a past and you’re not harping me about that or Parker on all she’s stolen. Just because Eliot’s past is a bit different, doesn’t mean we can treat it differently in our team.”

Eliot didn’t fully agree with the comparison. His enemies we’re not the same and one of them coming back would be worse than it was for others.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to disagree with her. Not right now.

He thought of all the people he killed, all the families he’d left behind with one member less. He thought of Moreau and the horrible things he’d done for that man. He thought of the US Army that had turned him into a killer and set him loose on foreign soil for the first time.

And he thought of his team. Of how glad he was he knew them and how they made him better and didn’t force him to be a person he hated. How much they meant to him and how badly he didn’t want to loose that.

So he stayed quiet and let Sophie defend him, hoping his past would not come back like that again.

~~

A/N:

Sorry that the con is kinda vague, I only had the ‘the mark/someone there has a hit on Eliot and he needs to run’ and no clear plan on running the con in the background. Hope it was still enjoyable :D

[duskholland]

Maybe like a protective mob!Tom? Like say you two had a mini fight one morning and then something happens during the day? Nothing major bad but enough to set off protect mode Tom? And then some goooood fucking

shit. yes. im a slut for desperate i-almost-lost-you moments.

18+ !!!! contains nsfw material incl smut and mob themes. extended warnings beneath the cut.

-- it’s mob monday!! --

warnings: gun violence, minor injury, blood, death (i promise you it’s not that intense or important), needy protected MxF sex, kinda possessive mob!tom (but it's hot), fingering (fem receiving),

---------

The argument comes from nowhere. One moment you’re laying around in bed, tangled up with Tom and the warm sheets, the next you’re pacing around in front of the mattress, tugging at your hair in frustration. 

“You’re being unreasonable, Y/N,” Tom chides, staring at you hard. He’s sitting up against the headboard, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are narrowed and dark, stirring with irritation. 

“I’m being unreasonable?” You respond, unable to keep the tone of incredulity from your voice. “Tom, I’m telling you, that guy is dirty. It’s not unreasonable to try and warn you.” You pause, clenching your hands into fists. “It’d be nice if you’d trust me, for once. I’m not an idiot.”

Oh, and Tom really doesn’t like that. His eyebrows pull together and he sits up a little straighter, the duvet falling down to his waist. You briefly make note of the curved lines of his torso, all defined and glowing gold in the morning sun, but you’re too angry to focus on his muscles for long. 

“I do trust you, Y/N,” he replies, his voice a little harder, “But Rob’s been on the staff for three years. He’s not dirty. If he makes you uncomfortable, I can station him outside the house, but he’s loyal. I have no doubts about him.”

“Then why did I catch him snooping around in here the other day?”

Tom looks a little startled by this, but he maintains his firm stance. “Maybe he was just doing surveillance?” “Whatever.” You kick at the ground, frustrated. You don’t like the energy rippling between you, so you release a deep sigh and turn around. “I’m going to take Tess out. See you later, Tom.”

Your boyfriend graces you with a frustrated groan. “Fine. See you at lunch.”

You love Tom. You really, truly do. But he’s possibly the most stubborn man you’ve ever met, and his field of work means he trusts his own instincts and judgements above all else. It doesn’t matter that you have valid concerns: if Tom has decided his men are loyal, then his men are loyal, and that’s that. And you understand why he functions like that - because if he was constantly questioning the loyalty of his men, he’d go crazy - but it doesn’t mean you appreciate having your concerns brushed aside.

You spend all day milling around the mansion, trying your best to calm down and placate yourself. You almost talk yourself out of your concerns, until you walk into the living room, hear the low metallic clink of a gun being cocked, and feel the cold metal of a gun's barrel press against your temple.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, pet.” It's Rob, with that disgusting sly smirk on his face. He seems entirely too smug as he continues, “You’re going to give me the combination to the main safe, and then I’ll let you go. If you scream, I won’t hesitate to put this bullet through your skull. You understand?”

You exhale a deep, shaky breath. Of fucking course.

“Rob, you do realise Tom’s going to put you in the ground for this, yeah?” You respond. You wince as the large man presses the gun further into your head.

“The combination,” he repeats, gritting his teeth. 

You let your tongue wander across your lower lip as you ponder your predicament. “I don’t know the combination,” you lie. Your eyes wander around the living room, settling over each of the obscured panic buttons. You know Rob is probably aware of some of them, but you doubt he knows where all of them are; Tom had had more installed across the mansion when you’d moved in, just in case a scenario like this ever came about. 

“Bullshit.” Rob moves closer, and he grabs your arm, squeezing your flesh tightly in his grotty hand. You wince at the pain but stay still as he presses the gun further into your temple. “You know it, Y/N. I know you do. What’s it going to take for me to get it out of you?” 

And shit, you really don’t like the way he’s looking at you, so you decide to break out one of your favourite tricks.

“Uh oh, Rob, I think I’m going to pass out,” you feign. You do your best to strap a woozy, distant expression to your face and you stagger to the side, managing to slip out from both Rob’s grip and the gun. 

“Hey, come back!” He exclaims, lunging after you, but you’re faster. You make it over to the coffee table and manage to press the very large, red panic button in the centre of the table. “Oh, you fucking bitch-”

It’s a very discreet button. No alarms ring out, but you know it’ll be a matter of seconds before you’re joined by one of the guards. Unfortunately for you, Rob is glaring at you in a fit of anger, and he flicks off the safety of the gun and shoots at you. 

“Shit,” you exclaim, darting to the side. You aim for the sofa, deciding that ducking down behind it is probably your best bet, but you find yourself crying out as a bullet lightly grazes your arm. You crash onto the floor and wince, your arm throbbing as a fresh trail of blood drips out over your skin. You swear him out some more as you settle behind the sofa, your heart hammering at about a thousand beats a minute.

Just as Rob’s about to turn the corner and gain a clear shot at you, the door to the living room bursts open and you see a few of Tom’s guards take him down. There’s another crack of the gun, a loud groan, and you watch as Rob collapses onto the floor, bleeding from his forehead.

“Oh, fuck, darling, what happened? Are you okay?” Tom’s immediately by your side, his eyes wide and his face pale. He crouches beside you, his warm hands padding over your arms as he inspects your bullet wound. “That fucker-”

“I told you so,” you manage, drawing a very tight laugh from Tom. You wince as Tom grabs a blanket from the sofa and uses it to apply pressure to your arm. “Told you he was dirty.”

“Yeah.” Tom cranes his neck back and calls out for one of his men to bring the doctor, then he returns his attention to you. With his clean hand, he cups your cheek and brings you in for a very desperate, needy kiss. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you, darling.”

You give him a soft smile. “You should’ve, yeah,” you agree. “It’s okay though. You’re here now. And I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere any time soon.” Your eyes drift out over to the corpse, and a shiver rolls down your spine as you see the pool of rippling blood spread out across the floor.

“I’m not leaving your side for the rest of the day,” Tom promises intensely. His thumb pads over your cheek and he looks at you strongly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And Tom really takes that promise to heart. He spends the rest of the day by your side, doting on you, laying lavish praise upon you. He holds your hand as you get a few stitches, and then he feeds you ice cream, and then he pours you an incredibly large, bubbly bath, and he plays with the ends of your hair as you relax together in the water.

By the time it’s reached 9pm, he’s laying you down on the mattress and pressing desperate, needy kisses all up and down your neck, nuzzling his face into your shoulder as he goes. His hands cling to yours, and your eyelids flutter shut as he kisses your neck, over and over, spreading warm pecks all across your skin. 

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear, before leaving a soft kiss to your lobe. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You shiver, the husky tone of his voice making the heat in your stomach twitch to life. You reach down and slip your hands beneath his shirt, and use your grip to lever him nearer. Tom kisses you hungrily, and you enjoy feeling his back muscles tense as you prise open his lips with your tongue.

“What do you want?” Tom mumbles, his hands curving all over your face. He holds your cheeks in his palms, thumbs skimming over your cheekbones, fingertips dipping into your hair as his tongue lazily licks into your mouth. 

“You,” you respond. You break away from his lips to pant for air, and your hand tugs his shirt. “I need you, Tom, please.” Your body aches for him. With all the caresses and the coddling and the love he’s been showing you, it’s like it’s strung up all of your affection, and now your body craves a deeper connection. You can feel the wet patch spreading from your centre as one of his hands travels down between your legs, slipping beneath the band of your leggings and digging under your panties.

A high whine slips through your lips as you feel him slip two digits into your heat, your wet walls fluttering around his touch.

“Always such a wet pussy for me, isn’t it?” He murmurs. Tom’s fingers continue to stroke through your hair, his lips nudging against yours as he kisses you, his mouth swallowing your moans as he slowly opens you up. You buck down against his touch, grabbing at his back as his fingertips nestle deep within you. 

“I love you,” you say, your mind slipping away. Your face feels hot as you listen to the sounds of your arousal, and as Tom fucks his fingers into you faster, you realise you can’t go another minute without him. “Fuck me, Tom. I need you.”

Tom gives you a firm nod, and he shifts his fingers from inside you. There’s a brief intermission as you both shed your clothes and he finds a condom, but then he’s laying you back in the centre of the bed and he’s caging you in with an arm either side of your head. He kisses you again, and his lips stay attached to yours as he slowly works himself inside you, cock slipping into your wet heat easily. You’re snug around him, and you throw your head back as you marvel at the perfect fit. 

“I love this cunt,” Tom mutters against your hairline. He shifts his position so he’s cradling you, one arm wrapped around your back, the other resting beside your head. “It’s my cunt, isn’t it?” 

Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you grip to his sweaty back, your thoughts blurry from the pleasure rippling out from between your legs. “Yes, Tommy,” you whimper. “All yours.” You part your thigh and angle your hips further up, and you cry out as he hits against that spongy, intimate spot buried up against your stomach. “I’m yours.”

“That’s right, angel.” He rolls his hips against yours, and his lips press over your face. He leaves a trail of love across your cheeks and your forehead, and it feels so intimate it brings tears to your eyes. “Mine.” His fingers draw loose, wobbly patterns across your cheek. “Mine.” His lips are on yours, burning hotly to your mouth. “Mine.” He snaps his hips harder and you cry out. “Gonna rub that clit for me, darling?” 

You nod, and your hand fits down between your legs. It’s very tight because Tom’s pulled you so close to him there’s barely a gap, but you manage to wiggle your index finger into your slit. You rub quick circles over your bud and you release a string of inarticulate noises.

It’s so much. Tom’s cock pressing into you again and again, unrelenting; his lips on yours, kissing you firmly, never letting your lips slip away from his; his hand, wrapped around your back, pushing you into him. You feel him everywhere, and it’s a bliss like you’ve never felt before.

“Are you going to cum for me, gorgeous?” He asks, voice deep. You’re clenching around his cock, your breathless moans pulling tighter, higher. “I want to feel you, darling. Let go for me. I’ve got you.” He tightens his grip and his fingers burn into your back, and then his lips are sucking and licking over your neck, and it feels so utterly overwhelming that you find yourself falling apart. 

You spasm on the mattress, your thighs twitching as you let him fuck you through it. Tom’s peaking soon after you, and the frenzied heat to his actions propels you further. Your nails dig into his back and he groans loudly at the ache, but you know he loves nothing more than your marks across his skin. A sign of your presence, of your love. That’s why you enjoy his strong bites and kisses along your neck so much.

“Fucking beautiful,” Tom mutters, finally stilling his actions. His cock stays buried inside you as he sits up on his biceps, his lips finding yours in a warmer kiss. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.” 

The desperate edge to his voice makes you melt, and you find yourself nodding as you bring your hands up. You sweep his sweaty curls away from his forehead and admire his face: flushed, a little sweaty, but full of breathtaking adoration. 

“I love you too, Tom,” you reply. You lean up and peck his nose and his low chuckle makes you grin. “You gonna learn to start listening to me, from now on?”

He hums in immediate agreement. “Absolutely. I trust you completely, love. I’m sorry I didn’t listen earlier.”

You just shrug, a large smile hanging from your lips. “Well, you’ve made it up to me now.” 

Tom kisses your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Good.” He pulls away to wink at you. “If you want me to make it up to you some more, just let me know.”

You bark out a laugh and nod affirmatively.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I definitely will.”

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Revenge Never Felt So Good

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Guns, bombing, language, murder, blood, hints to smut (none actual smut), typos, shitty writing, torture I guess

-Words: 4.9K

A/n: Can we get back to mob stuff? Please. I want to apologize for this chapter, it is absolute shit and I could tell by writing it. Kind of a filler chapter. Sorry it is long.

Chapter 13: Revenge Never Felt So Good

Words: 4.9K

It had been a week, since you got your memories back and you declared your love for Tom once more. Right after that, you and Tom were on the first train to Paris, refusing to fly for awhile.

You and Tom returned last night, just in time to see Parker and Rosie off to school the next morning. While you and Tom had been enjoying a second honeymoon in the city of love, Nikki and Dom so graciously offered to watch the kids. Everything was falling back into full swing. Parker and Rosie were going to school regularly. Rosie spending all her time with Henry and Parker still living his secret double life.

Things going back to normal. Somewhat.

It was a typical morning, but anytime everyone every thinks that, something gets massively screwed up. You woke up early to make pancakes and bacon.

“So what is plan for everyone today?” You asked, sipping at your steaming cup of coffee.

“Well, Rosie and I have school,” Parker explained.

“I have plans with Henry,” Rosie chimed in.

“I have meetings all day, love.” Tom said, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Ok, so I’m all alone today,” you muttered, a little disappointed.

“I’m sorry darling, you could join me. You know much I love it when you sit in my lap during meetings. Really show them who’s boss,” Tom said, wrapping you in his embrace.

“No, it’s ok. I have some errands to run anyway.”

“Alright, angel. I love you. I’ll see you for dinner.”

“I love you too. Come on, kids. In the car we go.” You said, pushing everyone out the door.

“Why is Jared not driving?” Parker asked.

“Cause, I have errands to run and besides he’s driving your dad today.”

“Now let’s go.” You said as Parker and Rosie hopped into the car.

Tom was having a hard time returning to his mob personality. Some business was conducted in Paris, you tagged along and enjoyed every minute of it. Tom sometimes overcompensated for not being as dangerous and intimidating. He had grown soft taking care of you after the helicopter crash. Helping you get your memory took most of his time, he had to step away from the mob for awhile. But you were his top priority.

Tom couldn’t remember the last time he sat in his office doing business. He missed it. He missed the thrill of torturing someone, having them beg for their life in front of him. He missed the feeling of firing his gun.

“Tom, you’re late,” Haz said as Tom got out of the car.

“Sorry not sorry Haz, I enjoyed breakfast with Y/N and the kids this morning,” Tom responded.

“I have to tell you something.”

“What? It’s never good news if it’s right when I get here.”

“We’re down two more.” Harrison mumbled referring to then decreasing number of soldiers part of the Holland Empire.

“Are you fucking serious? Haz, I’m so fucking tired of this bullshit. My men are getting fucking killed. Everything has gone to shit,” Tom screamed, enraged.

“Tom, we’ll figure it out. Just need to keep your cool.” Haz said, trying to avoid Tom’s wrath.

“Easier said than done. Alright, who’s here,” Tom asked, trying to forget about everything else.

“William.” Haz said with a straight face.

“What? Why? He’s always been loyal,” Tom questioned. One of his most valuable men, working against him, the rat?

“I got word from the soldiers he has been taking bribes from Parker,” Harrison explained.

“What the fuck for? Well, I guess we’ll find out.” Tom said, walking into the main room of the warehouse.

“William, I’d never thought it would be you in this chair.” Tom said, walking up to one of his most trusted employees.

“Tom, you gotta believe me. I didn’t do anything. I’m not the rat,” William pleaded. He knew what had been happening to the mob.

“Did you or did you not take money from Parker?” Tom asked.

“Yes, he just wanted to get out of the manor at night. So, he paid me to turn a blind eye.”

“Where was he going?”

“I don’t know, I assumed to some girl’s house.” “William, I trust you. So I’m going to let you off with a warning, but you can’t let him sneak out anymore. I’m afraid we are being targeted. If he tries to leave, you have to tell me.”

“Yes, boss. I’m sorry.” William apologized.

“It’s ok, but you understand what needs to happen right? I can’t be looking like I’ve gone soft,” Tom asserted.

“Yeah, I can take it. It’s ok,” William said, gritting his teeth as he waited for the collision of Tom’s fist to his cheek. Tom winded up to deliver one swift punch to William’s left eye. Not breaking the skin but creating a dark purple blotch.

All of Tom’s frustrations have been channeled into his mob duties. Each punch riddled with anger and frustration. A release of catharsis combined with blood. Tom wears the smell of blood and death like a perfume.

The rest of the day was full of uneventful meetings. Meetings with business associates, actual business associates for the company.

When Tom came home, he planned to confront Parker about his whereabouts if he tried to sneak out again. Everyone retired, you went to sleep first and Rosie went to her room. Parker said, he was going to bed but Tom could see right through him.

Tom was sitting in the den, sipping a glass of watered down whiskey. Waiting for his son to disobey him. At 11:55 PM, Parker made his way downstairs ever so slightly. Only to be met with the dagger eyes of Tom.

“Where the fuck do you think you are going?” Tom asked as Parker tried to sneakily leave.

“I… I thought I heard noise outside and I’m going to go check on it,” Parker stammered. Getting caught by Tom was not part of the plan.

“Oh, ok. Parker the guards can do that. Go back to bed.” Tom said, turning back to the TV in the den, broadcasting Raiders of the Lost Ark.

“Ok. Night, dad,” Parker said, trudging himself back up the steps.

“Night…. I know, you’re lying,” Tom whispered loud enough for Parker to hear.

“What? I’m not lying.”

“Parker, I know you’ve sneaking out for weeks and bribing William.”

“Dad, I’m sorry,” Parker immediately started apologizing, no bother in trying to lie himself out of this one.

“Why have you been sneaking out?” Tom questioned, seething with anger but refusing to show it. Trying to have a mature adult conversation.

“I’ve been going to a girl’s house, her name is Jamie.”

“Oh, glad you find someone. You know after everything with Charlotte,” Tom replied.

“Well since I told you the truth, can I go? We made the plan a couple days ago and don’t want to cancel,” Parker lied.

“Alright, just be back before sunrise or your mother will have may head,” Tom informed him.

“Thanks dad, you should get some sleep,” Parker said, making his way out of the heavily guarded house.

Parker left as quickly as possible. He knew Wilson would be pissed for him being late. The talk with Tom was not how this was supposed to happen.

He couldn’t betray his family and himself anymore.

Parker hoped this was the last time he would have to talk to him. He planned to quit, after the conversation with Dom. Parker had become everything he hated, someone who kills for sport.

“Wilson, this is the last thing I’m doing then, I’m out,” Parker said, walking towards Wilson.

“We’ll talk about it later, my boy,” Wilson said, patting Parker’s shoulder.

“Alright who am I killing? You never gave me a target.” Parker shouted at Wilson walking.

“Oh, this isn’t a hit, it’s a robbery. Here’s your new firearm,” One of Wilson’s men explained, tossing a MP5K at him.

“You okay kid? You know if you’re too much of pussy the boss might understand,” jeered one of the men as Parker gulped at the size of the weapon.

“Fuck you, I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with,” Parker barked, trying to put his mind aside. He has never done anything like this. It wasn’t just one person he was killing, it was the possibility of having many causalities. Altering his persona from a hitman to a mass murderer.

A million thoughts flooded Parker’s mind. He wouldn’t be killing people who deserved it like before, contract killers or drug dealers, these were innocent people. Stupid people for gambling all their hard earned money away but nonetheless innocent.

Parker’s heart nearly stopped when he saw where the van pulled up to. A place he knew all too well, it was one of Tom’s casinos.

The company that Dom had built, but all the Holland boys sent thriving in the new century, was more than it seemed. Holland Exportation and Luxuries was much more than exporting goods.

It was casinos that ran all along the French Riviera, more specifically Monaco. It was hotels across the entire globe. It was a business but not the family one. More of a front for the mob but it paid the bills. Harry and Sam had been in charge of running and establishing the hotels and casinos across Europe.

“Y’know your way around, right? That’s why the boss put you on this.” One of men asked Parker as he fiddled with his new machine gun.

“I guess so.” Parker replied.

“Here’s a map. Where are the guards? Which posts?” Asked a soldier, pointing to the main entrance hallways, where security was sure to be.

“I don’t know.”

“So we’re going in there fucking blind? Fuck, thought you’d be good for something. Just stay out of our way,” yelled one of the capos.

“No. I’m taking point. If you have a problem, you can fucking talk to me about it along with my Glock,” Parker threatened.

“Alright. Don’t screw this up. The boss wants big bucks from this. Says “it’s step two in the fall of the empire.” Whatever the fuck that means.”

“On my count, 1, 2… 3,” Parker screamed.

They came storming in, barricading all the entrances and exits. Parker and Wilson’s men clad in all black and payday masks. All various colors and designs. They looked as they were trick or treating.

This was the last thing Parker wanted to be doing. He came today to quit and now he was robbing a casino.

Parker kept repeating a mantra in his head “Last one, then I’m done” as held his gun high. Pointing it directly at innocents, he could see them shaking in fear.

“EVERYONE ON THE GROUND NOW!” He shouted, aiming his machine gun high.

“Don’t you fucking touch that button. I know what it fucking does.” Parker barks at the person behind the token counter. “Open the vault.” Parker said, pointing the gun at him.

“Why should I?” remarked the worker.

“Cause I fucking said so and I’m threatening your life,” Parker explained

“Enough of this shit!” He screamed, firing a few rounds close to the worker but not hitting him.

“You don’t have to do this. You could walk out of here, all of you. And we could go on with our lives. No need for money or the cops.”

“I think we both know that’s not gonna happen. I’ll ask nicely, please open the vault,” Parker mocked. “Boss said “start killing hostages in 10 minutes.” One of the other men whispered in Parker’s ear.

“Did you fucking hear that? We’re gonna fucking kill you if you don’t cooperate. So I suggest you open… the fucking… vault.”

“Sir, we can’t.”

“See this gun. LOOK AT IT! It has the power to put a bullet through your skull. Open the fucking vault. I won’t ask a fifth time.”

“That’s it. Now, type in the code.” Parker directed towards them.

The vault door creaked open, revealing trappings of pure wealth. Money stacked on tables, almost reaching the ceiling. And gold bars, glistened as the light reflected off of them.

“Now was that so fucking hard. Take all of it. Everything, even the gold.” Parker said, directly towards his men.

“Thank you, you’ve served you purpose,” Parker said to the worker, shooting him dead not even 3 seconds later. The screams of the other hostages echoed through the vacated room.

“Now to everyone here, there’s already one dead. I don’t mind making it more,” Parker barked.

“What’s your name?” Parker asked the nice looking girl kneeling on the ground.

“It’s not nice to not answer when someone asks you question, especially someone with a 9 caliber MP5K in your face. I ask again. What’s your name?” Parker spoke.

“Jane,” she whispered, shaking with fear.

“Well Jane, I want to thank you for your cooperation. You are in charge of talking to the cops, ok? And let your boss know, that Wilson is always watching,” Parker said, as he turned to leave.

“I will but you won’t get as far as you hoped,” Jane asserted, trying not to irritate Parker.

“And why’s that?”

“I know you. I remember you. You’d come in here with your dad.”

“You don’t know fucking shit!” Parker screamed.

“I know your name and that puts me at a high position of power,” Jane expressed, growing less afraid by the second. Realizing he is just some scared boy. Maybe not afraid of his own shadow but broken down by the fear of the world.

“I’m the one pressing fucking gun to your head. I HAVE ALL THE POWER!” Parker vociferated loud enough to shake the chandelier hanging above.

“You wish. Men like you always wish.”

“Seems like you’re doing some wishing yourself sweetheart. Wishing to be escorted out of here in a body bag. Now shut your fucking trap.”

“Hey. Let’s go. Leave her.” One of the Wilson’s men said, pulling Parker towards the exit.

“He still loves you and he’ll forgive you for this,” Jane shouted as Parker left.

Refusing to turn back, he had taken enough lives from this ill attempt at revenge. Parker didn’t know who he was fighting against anymore. Who was the hero and who was the villain?

All the wrongdoings as vast as the sea. All his attempts to make someone pay were misconstrued. Who actually deserved it?

The words of the woman replayed in Parker’s head. She was like a broken record, forcing him to listen to a truth he hoped to forget. How could Tom forgive him? Parker knew what he done was unforgivable. It was a mistake, all of it.

Parker marched into Wilson’s office and said, “Ever since I started working for you, my family has been in danger. I thought my dad was the reason for my girlfriends death, but I was wrong. I guess I’ll never know. Here Wilson, my gun. I quit.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I own you. I could end you, boy. Just like I almost did your parents,” Wilson barked.

“What?” Parker questioned, a look of confusion are on his face.

“Oh, please. You really think it was just a malfunction,” Wilson scoffed.

“What are you talking about?” Parker asked.

“Their helicopter. Pretty brilliant work, if I do say so myself,” Wilson gloated.

“They almost died.”

“Yeah and so? Your dad is my enemy. That is the whole reason you came to me in the first place.”

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt them,” Parker screamed. “Promises are meant to be broken. They don’t call me the Merchant of Death for nothing.”

Wilson was ready for the fight and been the one pulling the strings the entire time. Tom warranted no quarrel. Never being the instigator in a fight with Wilson.

They had been divided for years to come, focusing on their separate mobs. Only acknowledging each other if they accidentally crossed paths. There was Wilson’s mob, then a few others scattered round London such as Graham’s which was almost non-existent and Shaw’s which was mostly the drug scene. But Wilson was Tom’s biggest competitor. Being a part of then game for years before didn’t matter, Tom eclipsed Wilson just like the sun does the moon.

Or the moon to the sun, that was exactly Wilson’s play from the start. Taking out the pillars of Tom’s life. First a reason to have his son turn on him, the death of a loved one. Next, removing you from Tom’s grasp. Eventually a play had to be made on Rosie. Leaving Tom utterly alone.

Only thoughts that would cross his mind be suicidal ones, having lost everything he ever cared about. It was a long play, one Wilson vowed to see through. Wilson saw all his work as justice and merciful. Almost biblical, they way everything was playing out.

“It was you. All along. The fucking puppet master,” Parker mumbled under his breath.

“If you are talking about your little girlfriend, that was strictly business, nothing personal. But yes, I have been the one behind the scenes driving your father mad. Remember the note?” Wilson exclaimed.

“She didn’t deserve to die,” Parker shouted.

“What? Are you really upset? That was ages ago. Plus, I had to get you on my side somehow,” Wilson teased.

“Wait, you knew I’d come here?”

“Parker, how stupid are you? When will you grow up and learn this rivalry is just the beginning of a war. What side are you going to be on? You have a choice. I’ve warmed to you and I want you on my side as I take your daddy down.”

“That’s your first fucking mistake don’t have any weaknesses,” Parker admitted, taking a lesson from Tom. He drew is gun, point blank at Wilson.

“Parker, what are you doing? Put the gun down,” Wilson pleaded for his life.

“No, you made me into a cold blooded killer. Not my dad. I quit.”

BANG

After a loud thud sounded, the room was silent. Only a faint smell of smoke from the gun was there as Parker fled as quickly as possible.

Parker made his way home that night a changed man. All his kills in the pass were strictly business. Never driven by emotion but this one was personal.

It wasn’t a job or a hit. He was no longer a contract killer. Killing for the sake of money or an obligation. He was cold blooded killer.

In some twisted way, Parker enjoyed Wilson and his company. Looking up to him. He was then one who saved him from the horrible life he thought he was leaving behind. The one full of deceit and betrayal. The one with Tom, you and Rosie.

The one that led him to be next leader of the Holland mob. The one that resulted in the death of his beloved girlfriend. The one that had almost taken you and Tom away from him. The one that almost took his life. The one that forced him to kill for sport.

But no, he was wrong Parker brought that on himself. Parker’s naivety was his greatest enemy. He was just a child not too long ago. Once afraid of his own shadow, then afraid of failing at life and school, especially the SATs. Now, he was an adult burdened by problems a 16 year old should ever face. He could sit there and blame Tom, but it would do him no good when all he had to do was look in the mirror.

Parker was his own worst enemy. Searching for justice, when none could be found in a world wear mobsters roamed. Causing shootouts, robbing banks, and killing innocent people. People deserved to be avenged and Parker sure as hell wasn’t doing anything to aide.

Parker drove home, took four showers and threw his clothes away. Anything to wash off this abhorrent day. The next morning, Parker went on like nothing had changed. As if he didn’t shoot his boss and Tom’s rival in cold blood. As if didn’t only see himself as a cold blooded killer. Everything that he is and everything he owns soiled with the scent of murder.

He played it as though it was any other morning. Eating his pancakes and bacon before starting the day. Telling you about his plans for the day. Trying to keep his cool. The lovely morning breakfast conversation was interrupted once Tom’s phone rang.

RING, RING, RING

“Haz, why are you calling me? I’m having breakfast with my family,” Tom asked, annoyed his precious breakfast was interrupted. “Charlie is here, you need to get here. I have to tell you something,” Haz informed Tom. “Ok, I’m on my way,” Tom said, brushing off the request. Why would the

company’s electrical engineer for aeronautical transportation be there?

“Love, I’m so sorry but I’m needed at the warehouse. Thank you for this wonderful breakfast, wish I could enjoy it. Bye, kids. Have a good day at school,” Tom said, making his way out the door. Bidding you all goodbye.

“Haz, what’s was so urgent that I couldn’t finish my breakfast.” Tom barked, annoyed he was pulled away from you and the kids even on a Saturday.

“We were robbed last night. The casino.” Haz explained, his head hanging low.

“How the fuck? Did they catch them?” Tom seethed with anger.

“No, we do have eye witnesses though.”

“How much is missing?”

“About 11 million dollars, from cash to gold bars.” Haz said, waiting for Tom to explode.

“FUCK. We need to make them pay. I’m done playing fucking games.” Tom shouted, calming himself down for his meeting with Charlie.

“Now, you said Charlie was here, right?”

“Yeah, in your office.”

“Charlie? What are you doing here?” Tom asked, a little annoyed he was taken away from his morning with his family.

“Tom, I ran my report and did diagnostics tests and it’s not good,” Charlie started.

“What the fuck does that mean, Charlie?” Tom yelled.

“I think the helicopter was sabotaged.”

“What? You mean is that someone tried to take out my wife and I while we were on a helicopter,” Tom repeated, making all the connections necessary .

“Yes, it wasn’t just a normal malfunction. Did they ever find the pilot?” Charlie asked.

“No… Jesus fucking christ, if it’s true then…Fuck, I’m sorry I have to go,” Tom yelled, running out to the car.

“Jared, home now.”

“Mr. Holland is everything alright?” Jared asked, concerned by Tom’s frantic manner.

“No. I just found out the helicopter was sabotaged. I think someone might being trying to take out Y/N and I.”

“Come on baby, pick up,” Tom whispered, frantically dialing your number over and over.

“Y/N answer the god damm phone!” Tom shouted, when heard the same voice message over and over again, “Hi, this Y/N Holland please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“God fucking dammit. Fuck, voicemail. Jared do you know where my wife is?” Tom yelled, afraid what your silence meant.

“Last I heard she was at the store getting groceries,” Jared explained.

“Fuck, I have here location on my phone. Change course,” Tom barked, praying you were okay. With the information he just learned he didn’t want to leave you alone, not even for a second.

“Y/N! You’re okay.” Tom said, inhaling a breath of relief. You were coming out of the store pushing a cart of groceries.

“Tom! Of course, I’m okay. What are you doing here?” You asked.

“I’ll explain later. Get Parker and Rosie we need to go home now.”

“They’re already home. Henry’s there also. You’re scaring me.” You said, Tom never acts like this.

Being a part of a mob there is a constant fear of someone behind you. All throughout Tom’s life he only had to worry about himself until he met you.

Tom’s worst fear is him being the reason you no longer walk the earth. The last week he had glimpse of life without you and didn’t care for it one bit. You weren’t a weakness but at the same time, you were. For anyone with a dangerous job there’s always a target on your back.

“Come on, love. In the car,” Tom motioned towards the car.

“Tommy, my car is here. I’ll meet you there,” you said, kissing his cheek goodbye.

“Ok just be careful please.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Ok, Jared. Home now plea—“ Tom directed but was cut off by a loud BOOM.

“Jared, what the fuck was that?” Tom asked.

“Sir, it was Mrs. Holland’s car.”

“Y/N! Y/N?” Tom jumped out of the car. Nothing else mattered in that moment, only finding you.

Time stood still as thick black smoke bled through the air. Coating everything in its path with a faint ash. Screams echoed from the bystanders as the car went up in flames.

“Tom, I’m okay. It wasn’t mine.” You exasperated, coughing from the smoke. It wasn’t your car but it was close in proximity.

“Thank god. I can’t keep almost losing you,” Tom whispered, kissing you hairline.

“I’m here now.” The second you were in his arms you knew you were safe.

“Yes you are. It sure does look hell a lot like yours, though. Come on, I’m taking you home,” Tom said, wrapping his right arm around your shoulder.

Pulling up to the manor, everything looked different. There were more guards posted at every corner with heavier weaponry. Tom had the gate barricaded with another car in case some where to ram into the gate.

“Jesus, what took you so long?” Haz said

“They tried to bomb Y/N’s car. Thankfully the dumb fucks who planted it, picked the wrong car.”

“Tom you need to tell me what’s going on.”

“I will. Family meeting in the living room. Now.”

“Some of us have some secrets to share. I want to know everything that happened here while your mother and I were in Paris. Someone start talking,” Tom said, pacing in front of Parker and Rosie sitting on the couch.

Rosie and Parker were both hiding something. Rosie’s however was a rather monumental milestone. Rosie reminisced of her wonderful night with Henry while you and Tom were away. She loved Henry so much and was overjoyed to share that experience with him.

Rosie had told Henry at the wedding that she was ready to take that next step with him. Seeing you and Tom re-commit yourselves to one another affirmed that for Rosie. That she loved him more than anything.

“I’m sorry, dad. You don’t have to worry, we were safe,” Rosie blurted out.

“What?” Tom barked growing more anger by the second.

“Henry and I used a condom,” Rosie responded.

“Rosie?” You questioned, knowing what she was talking about.

“WHAT?” Tom screamed.

“That’s not what you were hinting at?” Rosie stammered.

“No, this is about Parker,” Tom reckoned.

“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Where the fuck is he?” Tom yelled, bolting out of the living room. Looking for the boy who had stolen Rosie’s innocence. You and Rosie soon followed hoping Tom wouldn’t do anything rash.

“Dad!”

“Tom!”

“Henry, you bastard! You fucked my daughter!” Tom shouted charging at Henry.

“Oh shit,” Henry muttered, he knew Tom could kill him in an instant.

“You went in my daughter! What’s stopping me from killing you right now.” Tom asked with gritted teeth, hoping this dumbass wouldn’t answer.

“Tom, put him down,” you said, as Tom was gripping his collar and dangling him in the air.

“Daaaadddd.”

“Tom, please,” you pleaded as Tom held a gun square to Henry’s head.

“The safety is on, I was never gonna shoot him. Just make him shit his pants a little. From now on, you two can’t be here alone. And if you are in your room the door needs to stay open,” Tom said, pointing fingers at Rosie and Henry.

“I believe we have more important business to get to. Now come on,” you said, pulling Tom away.

“Y/N, you know I was never going to actually hurt the boy right?”

“Yes, Tommy. Now please resume the family meeting.”

“Parker. Do you have something to tell us?” Tom asked, knowing his son will lie.

“I’ve been sneaking out at night and I’m sorry,” Parker started, you could hear the disappointment behind his voice.

“Why? I know it’s not because of a girl. I want to know everything,” Tom explained, fucking tired of all the lies.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

Parker began by explaining how he felt by the loss of Charlotte and how he turned to Wilson. In Parker’s mind he was doing the right thing. Serving justice to those who wronged others. But in reality he was the one committing the wrongdoings.

Parker came clean that he was the one killing all of Tom’s men and that he killed Jazz. That he went Wilson before coming to Tom. Becoming Wilson’s secret hitman was never supposed to go this far. He only intended for it to be a big fuck you to Tom. Not destroy his livelihood and his family in the process.

Including all the details of Wilson’s secret agenda of taking you and Tom out. But Parker left out the fact that Wilson was no longer a threat. Having taken care of him the day before.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve never been this naive and stupid. I’m the one you’ve been searching for. I’m the rat,” Parker exclaimed. “Dad, say something,” he pleaded.

“Get out,” Tom said with an unchanging expression.

“What?”

“I said get the fuck out!”

“Tom,” you tried to reason.

“You are no longer my son. Betraying me, betraying your family. Get out.” Tom screamed.

A/n: I’m sorry. I like the content in this chapter but not the writing.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @dummiesshort @adriannauni @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy

[beatles-slash-fiction]

Sorry, missclick.

It's "beatles. Fucking. Hard."

yknow like ugh poly beatles after a show giving all they got

I'm horny im sorry

Have a nice night bee we love ya

Ringo has noticed since joining the group that the four of them will be in one of two distinct moods following a show.

The first, which is the most common, is complete and utter exhaustion. This tends to occur if they’ve had a long day of travel, or if they’ve been mobbed by a particularly large crowd outside their hotel, or if they’ve quarrelled about the set order in their dressing room beforehand.

The second, which is a lot rarer, is pure joy and excitement. This tends to occur if they’ve given a particularly good performance, or if they’ve not been mobbed at all that day, or if they’ve had a few drinks and a joint beforehand.

Luckily tonight it’s the second category.

They’ve had an unusually quiet day and it’s been one of the few days on tour they’ve actually been able to spend some relaxing time together, and Ringo just had a feeling it was going to be a good evening. The show goes incredibly well, they manage to slip out the back afterwards without anyone noticing, and they’re all quite giggly during the car ride to the hotel.

And Ringo knows what that means.

He’s come to learn that when all four of them are in a good mood after a show, very very good sex follows.

Sure enough, as soon as they all stumble through the door of their hotel suite, Ringo finds himself pressed up against the wall by Paul, who starts kissing his neck.

“So,” Paul says before licking Ringo’s jaw. “Do we all want to take a shower together first, or shall we just get right down to it?”

Ringo’s dick twitches. He doesn’t think he’ll make it to the sex if he has to have a shower with these three.

“We’ll only have to shower again afterwards,” John points out, before tackling a giggling George to the bed.

“Very good point,” Paul agrees, reaching for Ringo’s belt.

Ringo’s head thumps against the wall as Paul’s hand finds its way inside his trousers and underwear, and his heart suddenly sounds so loud in his own ears. Paul’s strokes are slow and methodical, and although Ringo can’t see John and George, he can hear George’s little sighs and moans.

Paul unbuttons Ringo’s shirt with his free hand, licking one nipple then the other, and soon Ringo is standing in an awkward pile of his clothes as he’s wanked off slowly.

“Rich,” Paul says, softly, affectionately, touching their foreheads together. “Beautiful Rich.”

Ringo just about catches a glimpse of George on all fours with John very enthusiastically eating him out from behind, before realising he’s being terribly selfish. He drops to his knees and reaches for Paul’s belt, smiling as the younger man strokes his hair.

As he sucks Paul off, Ringo can’t help but reflect on how easy this always seems to be. When he’d been with the Hurricanes, group sex had always been a bit more awkward- no one seemed to really know who to be with first or what to do.

It’s different with the Beatles though. They have their own rhythm, and they can just read each other so easily. And it’s probably the first time Ringo has actually enjoyed giving blowjobs, rather than just doing it to please someone else.

One reflection he does have though is that it’s always very predictable. Not that there’s anything bad with that- but it is always usually the same, even if in a slightly different format.

They’ll pair off during foreplay so that they all get a chance to be with each other, and then they’ll normally fuck as two couples next to each other on the bed. The pairings will change but the basic formula stays the same.

Sure enough, after sucking Paul off for a few minutes, Ringo finds himself being pulled away by John for a kiss while Paul and George pass a bottle of lube between each other on the bed.

“Look at them together,” John purrs. “Fucking beautiful, eh? They’re gonna finger each other open ready for us, Ringo. Ready for us to fuck them into the mattress.”

Ringo could never get tired of watching Paul and George do this, but again it’s nothing new.

John seems to be too excited to notice that Ringo has something on his mind though, and wraps an arm around the smaller man to pull him close. He grabs their cocks in one hand and starts to stroke them together, and grabs Ringo’s arse with the other hand.

Ringo lets himself enjoy it as he keeps his eyes on Paul and George, who are clearly putting on a bit of a show for them.

“You take George, yeah?” John says, pupils blown wide as he gazes at Paul.

Ringo would say that the vast majority of the time he ends up fucking George. And that isn’t a bad thing at all; he adores fucking George, and even though they’ve all told each other that they don’t have favourites and everyone in their relationship is equal, Ringo knows that’s not completely true.

And if he had to pick a favourite...well. He knows who it would be.

But by the time Paul and George are lying side by side on the bed, and Ringo is climbing on top of George, he can’t help but notice George is pouting.

“What’s wrong?” Ringo asks, caressing the younger man’s cheek. “Are you tired?”

George shakes his head. “I was just thinking. We always do this.”

Great minds think alike.

“Eh?” John raises an eyebrow as Paul wraps his legs around his waist. “You mean have sex? Aye, we do that quite a lot.”

“No,” George says with a slight scowl. “I mean we always just end up pairing off like this. And it’s great, don’t get me wrong, but...I dunno. It would be nice if all four of us could have sex together. So we’re like a proper foursome instead of two couples having sex next to each other.”

And that’s when Ringo has an idea.

“There is something we could try,” Ringo says with a grin. “It’s something I did a few times with the Hurricanes.”

The others certainly look intrigued, and Ringo takes a minute to think through how he might choreograph this. If they pull it off, he’s sure it will be something really special.

“Okay,” Ringo says, trying to feign confidence. “John- keep going. Keep Paul on his back and fuck him like that, but keep your back straight. Don’t lean over Paul.”

John does so, entering Paul slowly, and George looks a little sceptical, clearly trying to work out where Ringo is going with this.

Ringo allows John to fuck Paul for just a few minutes before telling them both to hold still.

“Okay. Now, Georgie, you climb on top of Paul. Ride him.”

George raises an eyebrow. “With John still...?”

“Yes.”

George looks a little hesitant as he straddles Paul, glancing over his shoulder at John behind him.

“It’s alright,” Ringo says encouragingly. “You know what to do, Georgie.”

George fumbles with Paul’s cock, trying to line it up with his entrance, but he’s clearly nervous with all eyes on him.

“Here,” Ringo says softly. “I’ll hold this.” He takes hold of Paul’s erection with one hand. “And this.” He takes George’s hand with the other. “And all you have to do is sit.”

George smiles gratefully as he slowly impales himself, and Ringo can’t help but think the three of them look so beautiful together. Joined as one, as close as can possibly be.

“What about you though?” George asks. “You can’t be left out.”

“I won’t be,” Ringo promises, kneeling on the bed next to Paul. “Not if you give me a helping hand.”

He guides George’s hand to his own cock.

“So we just move?” John asks, sounding impatient.

“Yep,” Ringo chuckles. “Pretty much.”

It’s a little clumsy at first. John and George are moving at slightly different paces, although Paul doesn’t seem to mind, and George isn’t focussing enough to give Ringo a decent handjob.

But Ringo tells John to slow down a little and George to try and ride Paul a little faster, and they’re soon finding their rhythm, and George is stroking Ringo much more confidently.

The bed is creaking and shaking as they fuck, and it’s quite possibly the hottest sex they’ve ever had. It’s also the most intimate; it’s the first time they’ve all really been part of a sex act together at the same time.

Paul is the first to come; unsurprising since he’s got a dick inside him and George’s tight heat engulfing his own cock. John follows not soon after, and then George covers Ringo’s lips with his own and they’re coming together; waves of pleasure rolling through them.

Afterwards they untangle themselves and collapse in a heap on the bed, sweaty and exhausted.

“Ringo,” John says breathlessly. “You’re a fucking genius.”

Ringo beams as the others shower him with kisses.

[jamie-leah]

War of Wolves (20)

Season 1

Episode 20- The End Is Nigh

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 2425

Warnings: Violence, outbursts, mention of weight, vomiting, kidnapping, injuries, hallucinations, swearing

A/N: Okay all you Lovely people, I am hitting you with another episode thick and fast. I love you all for your support and encouragement! Enjoy this one! And come tell me if you would like to see another season of WoW? Because I have a few ideas...

<---Previous Episode Next Episode--->

WoW Masterlist Series Masterlist Oneshot Masterlist

A week later

YOUR POV

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. It felt like a lifetime of Isaac drugging you up, poking and prodding and taking samples.

You had been in and out of consciousness like a yoyo. Your body getting weaker every day. Isaac barely fed you saying some bullshit about experimenting how the stress affected the way your ability grew.

Any food that you did manage to eat it was another story trying to keep it down. You often found yourself dreaming or imagining conversations as if Bucky was here.

You were currently imagining being back at that restaurant with the aquarium as a wall having a meal. You were laughing at him tipping sauce down his suit when the scraping of your cell door cuts through it.

You keep your eyes closed trying to hold onto the dream as Bucky says, “looks like our dinner is about to be rudely interrupted Doll”.

You wave him off, “let him carry me, as long as I get to keep my eyes closed and see you it won’t be interrupted”.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, “and have you stop fighting against them? Come on Doll, you know I’ll be here when you get back”.

The blonde man cuts through the dream, “move”.

You open your eyes suddenly feeling the cold in your bones, “make me you curly headed fuck”.

You knew what was coming, yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to move or stop fighting him all the way to Isaac.

BUCKY’S POV

Night had fallen hours ago but Bucky stayed sitting in his office. He watched the footage again and again of you being shoved into the car and being whisked away from him. He hadn’t slept and only ate and drank out of necessity.

Sam was in the room talking on the phone trying to get information out of more informants when Steve walks into the room.

Bucky rewinds the footage again as Steve approaches, “you need to get some sleep Buck”.

Bucky ignores him, watching the footage again hoping to spot something he missed. Steve waits a few seconds before closing the lid of the laptop.

Bucky stares at where the screen was, the image of you burned into his eyes, for a few seconds. Bucky stares until he shoots up from his chair and sweeps the contents of his desk onto the floor.

“And what the fuck is sleeping gonna do Steve? Nothing! She’s out there now, on her own! Its been a fucking week and we still have nothing!”, Bucky’s chest is heaving, the strain of keeping his emotions in check showing.

Steve speaks normally, not matching Bucky’s raised voice, “and what good is staring at the footage doing? Also, nothing”.

Bucky shakes his head, “I’m not sleeping while she’s still out there going through only the devil knows what”.

Steve sighs, “you need sleep Buck, to think clearly…you know if she were hear now, she’d be saying the same thing”.

Bucky bursts again, “but she’s not Steve! She’s not here”.

Bucky doesn’t wait for empty words from Steve or Sam. Instead he strides from the room and towards the back doors.

He keeps walking until he reaches the door and pulls it open. Winter starts to get up to greet him but Bucky orders him to stay.

Bucky goes over and sits next to him just like you would. Winter sits up facing him as Bucky strokes him. After a few moments Winter whines and Bucky nods, “I miss her too boy”.

Bucky shakes his head, “its my fault she’s gone, I should have done more…she’d probably slap me for even thinking that”.

Bucky smiles at the thought of you being cross with him before saying to Winter, “Steve’s right, isn’t he? She’d tell me to sleep if she were here now”.

Bucky pats his lap and Winter settles next to him laying his head on his leg. Bucky lays his head back and closes his eyes, images of you haunting his dreams.

YOUR POV

You think about two days had passed since Isaac had sent for you. On the one hand you were grateful for the rest, but it was freezing. The only warmth you felt was in that shitty room.

You were in the corner dry heaving for the hundredth time that day. Your body was shaking violently from the cold and strain your body was going through.

Your dreams had spilled out into reality as you now conjured the image of Bucky while you were awake. He was still wearing his black suit leaning against the wall, ���that’s the third time today. You need to start keeping your food down if you want to get out of here”.

You spit into the bucket, “you think I don’t know that? It’s the fucking drugs”.

You put the bucket down and go to stand but you fall instead. Bucky goes to help but stops himself, you both know he’s not real and he can’t help.

You finally manage to make it back to the bed before saying to Bucky, “you can’t find me, can you?”.

Bucky pushes off the wall, “you know I’m trying”.

You nod slightly, “I know that. I just don’t know how much longer I can live like this”.

Bucky looks alarmed, “you can’t stop fighting”.

You close your eyes, “but I’m tired Buck”.

Bucky scoffs, “you know there’s things you could be doing to help me find you”.

Your eyes snap open in anger, “yeah? Like what? In case you hadn’t noticed I’m locked in a cell”.

Bucky shrugs, “you know the more people that know you’re here the more likely it is that I can find you. Everyone has a price for information and everyone knows I’d pay anything”.

You lift your head up to look at him. He looks exactly like your Bucky but there’s something off and you’re well aware that he’s not real and none of this is healthy.

You stare at him a little longer and you realise what’s off, it’s the eyes. His eyes aren’t the same colour blue as your Bucky, “did you have something in mind?”.

You waited another day before the blonde guy came to get you again. You had gathered your strength for what you had planned.

It was the same story of the door scrapping open and his voice seconds later, “move”.

You don’t even waste energy on a reply. You just count his steps so that you can time it all perfectly. When you know he’s a step away from pulling you off the bed you twist from your foetal position and smack him in the face.

You know he’ll only be shocked for a second, so you get up and knee him in the balls to keep him down longer. You hear him grunt before falling to one knee.

You don’t wait to see if he recovers, you run. You ignore the shaking in your legs and the way your feet thud against the stone.

You run as fast as your heart would allow down the narrow corridor and passed the door that leads to Isaac. That’s when you hear the guy shout for you to stop and you nearly laugh at the absurdity of it.

You near the end of the corridor and take a sharp left down another corridor. Its just as narrow but you see a set of double doors at the end of it, the only double doors you’ve ever seen in these corridors.

Your body is screaming at the exertion, but you keep going, the image of Bucky popping up by the doors pointing to them.

You feel like you’ve been running for hours but you don’t stop as you approach the doors. You brace for the impact as your body slams into the wooden doors.

They give way followed by a loud crash of metal hitting a wooden floor. You fall and realise that a knight uniform was in front of the doors to make it look like they weren’t useable doors.

You look behind you and see the blonde guy halfway down the hall and gaining fast. You look forward and see some stunned men and maids.

You scramble to your feet and step over the metal, realising you’re in the foyer and the front doors are right there.

Hope blossoms in your chest at actually having a chance of getting out of here as you sprint towards the doors.

Bucky is standing by them and you smile at him. You skid to a halt to open the door. Your shaking hands taking a few seconds to turn the door knob. Valuable seconds.

Just as you push the door open arms grab you around the waist. You scream and struggle as hard as you can as you watch the door swing open.

Sunlight floods the entryway and hits your skin, the only real warmth you’ve felt in what feels like eternity. Bucky stands passed the threshold looking at you as you get dragged back through the double doors.

The sunlight gives an aura around him that makes him look like an angel and as you lose sight of Bucky, the door and hope, you can’t help but call out his name.

BUCKY’S POV

Bucky was in the office with Sam, Steve and Darren. Darren had come over to say that he hadn’t found anything out but wanted to help any way he could.

They had been talking for the past hour about what else they could do. Bucky could barely concentrate on what was being said as he looked out the window thinking of you.

“I know we looked into Harry, but he could be worth checking again. He may have estates we don’t know about”, that was Steve.

Bucky heard Sam next, “but if we don’t know about them how are we meant to find out?”.

Steve again, “I don’t know, but Harry’s organisation isn’t big, he wouldn’t have anything outside of the UK”.

Darren this time, “but the UK is still a big place if we don’t know where we’re looking”.

A few seconds of silence and then a buzzing. Bucky was trying to ignore it as he thought about you. He was quite successful in ignoring it until one of his spare phones gets shoved into his face by Steve, “Bucky! You’ve got a call”.

Bucky quickly snatches it from Steve and gets up from the chair before answering, “hello?”.

A whispered voice comes out, “Bucky is that you? Its me, Noah”.

Bucky nods as if he can see, “yeah, its me. Tell me you got something Noah”.

Noah continues to whisper, “she’s here”.

It was only two words, but it was enough to leave him feel like he had been suckered punched, “you saw her? Where are you exactly?”.

Bucky turns to see everyone standing now, “yeah I saw her. He was keeping her in a place I didn’t even know existed. After this conversation I’ll text you the exact location”.

Bucky had too many questions he wanted to ask, “how did you find out where she was?”.

Noah was silent for a few seconds before whispering, “she made a break for it. I was just about to leave when she came crashing through a set of doors and ran to the front door. Someone got her before she could make it passed the door and took her down corridors I never even knew existed…you know I couldn’t help her as much as I-“.

Bucky cuts him off, “I know. You did the right thing…how was she?”.

Noah was silent, and Bucky clenched his jaw, “just tell me Noah”.

Noah sighs, “she didn’t look great. She was skinny and had bruises, was wearing a hospital gown. She screamed your name before they took her away”.

Bucky closed his eyes, he didn’t know why he was asking he was only torturing himself. Bucky managed to speak, “thanks Noah. Send over the details and be prepared for contact from me soon”.

They both hang up after that and Bucky relays everything Noah had just told him as he texts through the details. Bucky finishes with, “so let’s go. I’m not waiting any longer”.

Steve blocks his path, “hold on Buck. You and I both know that we need to plan this properly. We can’t fuck this up”.

Sam nods, “Steve is right, but we can plan as we make our way over. If we do both at the same time, then we don’t waste as much time”.

Darren also chips in, “I’m coming too”.

Bucky looks at all of them before nodding, “lets get everything in place then”.

YOUR POV

Isaac was furious with you and you took great satisfaction in it. Not even him slapping you across the face could wipe the smile you gave him as you said, “you can’t break me”.

He ordered the blonde guy to take you back to the cell and you fought with what little energy you had left.

You were now on the bed trying to sleep, but it just wouldn’t come. You open your eyes to see Bucky leaning against the far wall again smiling, “you did great. I’m thinking we could do that again and even get out this time”.

You scoff, “you think I’ll be able to do that again? You’re delusional”.

Bucky laughs, “actually I think you’re the delusional one. I’m thinking if you get the keys off blondie and lock him in next time you’ll be able to do it-“.

“Shut up”, you murmur.

He ignores you, “you may have to wait a day or two because he’ll be jumpy-“.

“Shut up”, you try again.

He still talks, “come on Y/N! We can’t give up now, we’re so close-“.

You lose it as you shoot up from the bed, the anger giving temporary life to your bones, “shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I hate you!”.

You stand there, chest heaving, as Bucky looks hurt, “I thought you loved me?”.

You huff in frustration, “you? No. Bucky? Yes. You’re not him, you’re not even real! I imagined you as a way to make myself feel better but all you’re doing is making me feel worse. You’re just a reminder that Bucky, MY Bucky, is out there and I can’t touch him or see him…I need my Bucky, not whatever you are. So just go away”.

You sink back down on the bed and turn your back on him, your heart breaking in the silence of the cold room.

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