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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 month ago

Text

three times

a/n: some time ago i asked you guys on a poll what dude you wanted in this story and you all chose bucky, so here it is! also, i partly blame you all for how unhinged it turned out... like you get maybe 6,69% of the blame for the push you gave me... the rest is just me being a hoe

summary: a tale of the three times a nurse was kidnapped by new york’s most notorious gang.

warnings: dark!mob boss!bucky barnes x nurse!reader x doctor!peter parker, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, mob au, mobsters!steve rogers, clint barton, tony stark, scott lang, bruce banner, the gang is called the avengers, doctor!kate bishop, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, weapons, blood, being drugged, alcohol consumption, possessiveness, kissing, clothed x completely naked, panty sniffing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, oral, fingering, fisting, pussyjob, in bucky's mind it's brat taming, dumbification, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, somno, bondage, mild knife play, mild gunplay, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 11.574

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You flinched jaggedly as the dark cloth bag was finally ripped off your head. Eyes immediately squinting, they still strained to take in the unfamiliar space you’d been dragged to.

You were no longer in the hospital’s dark parking lot, nor were you in the black van you’d suddenly been tossed into, but instead, you found yourself in a dark living room. It was elegantly decorated, from the Persian rug to the dramatic, antique fireplace flicking behind the cluster of suit-clad criminals glaring down at you.

“This her?” one of them grumbled.

“Yep, one doctor as per your request,” the one who’d abducted you grinned, proudly planting a palm on his hip, “even choose a pretty one just for shits and giggles,” his starkly different mannerisms only made the others seem that much more intimidating.

The broad-figured one with a shock of sandy hair then stepped closer to where you stood, “alright, here’s the thing, doc,” his head tilted slightly to get on your level as he spoke to you directly, “you’re gonna do exactly as we say and then everything will be alright, okay?” he stared in your eyes as you offered him a shaky nod, “okay,” he exhaled, “you got a name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n…” you uttered before hearing yourself try to correct, “but I–…”

“But what?” the same man croaked.

“I-I’m not a doctor…”

“God damn it!” someone rumbled as everyone’s eyes flicked to the man who’d captured you, “we can’t fucking trust the new guy to do anything.”

“Well, she’s wearing scrubs,” he tried, frantically gesturing to your uniform, “I just thought–”

“You fucked up, Lang!” the first man who you’d heard speak barked loudly, “and now we’re not just gonna lose one of our brothers tonight, but also the head of the snake. Great fucking job,” a sharp click then caused your eyes to find the gun he yanked out, “and now she gotta die as well–”

“Wait!” you shrieked as both of your palms shot up in the air, “no! Please don’t kill me! I-I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! I can help! Whoever’s hurt, I can help!”

Seemingly superior to the others present, the blonde one stared at you intensely for a while before exhaling a verdict, “shit… well, I guess it’s better than nothing…” his polished shoes then began to shuffle before he gestured to you, “come this way.”

Hesitantly, you slowly shadowed him out of the living room, down a dim hallway, and into the chamber that bloomed at the bottom of the corridor. In the centre of the dark room, bathed by two glowing pendants, stood a large pool table, and upon the green felt, with colourful orbs haphazardly scatted all about, there laid a man, unconscious and bleeding.

The brunette’s suit was sodden with crimson, though you couldn’t tell from here how much of it was his own.

The gangster who was standing by the side and watching over the wounded individual glanced up at your arrival and asked his fellow men, “this the doctor?”

“No, it’s a fucking stripper,” you twisted your neck at the sarcastic tone as the guy who’d only moments ago pulled a gun on you waltzed past you and entered the room as well, “yes, of course it is, Tony. How’s the boss?”

“Still alive,” he answered in a sigh and cast his glance back down upon the man on the pool table.

Slowly stepping up, you carefully let your stare wash over the mobster, from the frazzled and blood-soaked attire to the metal-looking hand poking out one of the sleeves.

“What happened?” you asked carefully.

“Miss,” someone grumbled as they set a bag of supplies down beside you on the games table, “just fix him.”

“If you wanna give your friend a better chance, then you give me as much information as possible about what happened to him,” you uttered as you found a pair of gloves and slipped them on.

Letting out a sigh, the blonde fellow then said, “it was a shootout.”

Snatching up a pair of scissors, you began to snip in the man’s clothes, staring at the sleeve closest to you, “how many times was he shot?”

“I don’t know, he–… a lot of rounds went off,” he grunted, the events of the night weighting his broad shoulders down, “I wasn’t exactly counting.”

Two bullets. That’s how many you found when his dress shirt was in tatters on the floor. One was lodged in his right arm four finger widths above his elbow, while the other had strayed a bit further north and buried itself in his bulky bicep. You also found other scrapes and scratches along his torso, assumingly from other bullets that hadn’t been as lucky as those two.

The smallest of relieved sighs flowed from your lungs as you discovered that he wasn’t in a critical enough condition to be in need of a surgeon, at least not from what you could tell with the limited resources currently at your disposal.

As you carefully set to work, first digging the bullets out before cleaning the wounds with saline, your lips slowly parted as you treaded a curved needle, “…so, not that I don’t love the change to my evening plans,” you didn’t dare shift your glance as you asked, “but don’t you have a regular guy for cleaning up these sorts of messes?”

“We did… he died tonight, trying to stop that from happening,” the blonde man gestured to the injuries you began to stitch up.

Blinking up to find his eye, you uttered sincerely, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” feeling yourself, even under such circumstances, uncontrollably slip into those compassionate parts of your profession.

A slight scoff bubbled out of the gangster, taken aback by your unexpected gentleness, “yeah, me too. Banner was one hell of a guy…”

Once each of the wounds were sutured closed and you’d bandaged him up, you pushed yourself back from the pool table.

“Alright,” you exhaled and glanced up at the criminals lurking in the shadows of the chamber, “I’m done.”

“Yeah?” one of them stepped up to get a better look, “he’s alright?”

“No, he’s not alright, he was shot multiple times and should be in a fucking hospital,” your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you heard yourself snap, “now, can I please go home?”

Catching the eye of the blonde one, second in command, you watched as his jaw briefly clenched, the muscles dancing beneath his skin before he breathed, “no, you’re not done.”

“But I did exactly as you asked–”

“Like you said, he should be in a hospital right now, but we can’t have that happen, so instead, you’re gonna stay here till he’s out of the woods.”

“What? I can’t–”

“You’re a nurse, right?” he croaked to shut you up, “so fucking do your job and nurse him back to health.”

Three whole days ended up passing by before Mr Barnes slowly began to regain consciousness.

“Oh, you’re awake!” you snapped back into work mode, springing from your seat and leaning in over the bed which he’d previously been moved into. As the mobster instinctively began to sit up, his eyes barely open yet, you laid a soft palm upon his metal arm and uttered, “sir, please don’t move,” and watched as his clenched jaw almost silenced a groan, “one second, I’ll give you something for the pain,” before you shifted a moment to scavenge through the supplies you’d been given. Once the medicine was found, you exhaled slowly as you injected it, gently pressing down the plunger of the syringe, “there you go…”

You let yourself suck in a deep breath before your sharp eyes washed over him, briefly assessing him as he woke, though as your gaze flickered up to meet his own, initially with the intent of checking his pupillary response, the manner he stared back at you caught you so of guard that a shiver trickled down your spine.

“Sir, do you know what your name is?” you asked in a clear tone.

“Mhm…” he hummed and continued to stare at you as if you were an angel, “Bucky…”

“Bucky, great, that’s good,” you nodded, “and do you know where you are?”

His gaze didn’t shift away from your visage as he then murmured, “heaven…”

“No, I assure you, you’re not dead,” grasping the stethoscope draped around your neck, you shifted it into place to take a quick listen to his heart, “you almost were, a few times, but you aren’t.”

As the steady thumping of his pulse filled your ears and seeped into your soul, his deep voice washed over you once again and layered atop the beat, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?”

Catching his unwavering eye a moment, you then averted yours and muttered, “I was just doing my job…” before retracting the stethoscope from his chest and casting your glance towards the door, “I should probably go tell the others that you’re awake.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

“…and Mr Jensen in 401 is complaining of a headache, so you might wanna check that out as well.”

“Alright, cool,” the doctor scribbled down the last of your words on the little notepad in his palm before his gaze flickered up to catch yours, “thank you so much, Y/n,” he flashed you a warm smile.

Mirroring his expression, you hugged the charts in your grasp closer to your chest, “any time, Dr Parker.”

“Peter, please,” his thumb extended to click the top of his blue pen before sliding it into the breast pocket of his white coat, “hey, I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee right now, do you wanna join?” he tried to keep his tone casual.

Blinking back at him, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat, “I–, uhm… I’d love to, but I get off in a little bit. Wednesdays are always just morning shifts for me.”

“Oh, alright,” he nodded understandingly, though the gentle rejection still tainted his features slightly.

“But another time,” you offered, successfully brightening his smile once more.

“Yeah?” his elbow curled up to lean against the supportive railing that lined the hospital hallways.

“Sure. I mean, I drink coffee, you drink coffee,” you awkwardly began to dig yourself into a hole, “the chances of us bumping into each other at the coffee cart are pretty high–”

But your sentence was then cut short as Peter’s pager suddenly pinged in his pocket.

Fishing the small device out, his eyes flickered down to the small screen before he croaked, “oh, sorry. I gotta run.”

“Of course,” you swiftly waved a hand and watched as his feet began to shuffle into a run.

“Talk later!” Peter called over his shoulder before he rounded a corner and disappeared into the maze of the hospital.

Twisting around, your feet carried you the remaining distance towards the nurses’ station overlooking the ICU. As you laid the stack of files in your arms down on the counter, a familiar voice found your ears right before her visage popped into your periphery.

“Please tell me that that was what I think it was.”

Your gaze stayed glued on the charts a moment longer as you ignored your friend’s prying, “hello to you too, Kate.”

When your head finally raised and you let her catch your eye, her wide ones questioned you before she expectantly poked once more, “well?”

“Well what?” you shrugged, though your feeble attempts at shutting the pending subject down failed as she shot you a glare, efficiently causing you to crumble with a sigh, “yes, he asked me out again–, or kinda. It was just coffee.”

“And you finally said yes?” she smiled keenly.

Holding back your scoff, you simply uttered, “no,” before spinning on your heel.

“Again?” she shuffled slightly to catch up to the pace you swiftly slipped into, “why not? He’s kind, he’s a doctor, he’s hot,” she listed off, counting on her fingers, “he’s literally perfect for you.”

“I know he is…” you tilted your head, almost with an air of shame, “he’s exactly the type of guy that I should be running after…”

Though you liked him as a person and cared for him enough to call him your friend, those feelings you caught yourself forcing just hadn’t bubbled up yet. He was the kind of man that you deserved, that you should fall for, and certainly not the monster that still haunted you, that for some reason wouldn’t stop popping into your mind, especially at inappropriate times, like very late at night…

“So then why aren’t you?” Kate asked as you entered the employee locker room.

And though thoughts of a gruff gangster caused your heart to swell, you still muttered, “I don’t know…” as an excuse before you popped open your locker and uttered, “hey… what do you know about mobsters here in the city?

“Other than the horror stories I’ve picked up in the ER, not too much,” she leaned against the row of cubbies beside your own as you dug out your bag and began to change out of your scrubs and back into the clothes you’d worn early this morning when the sun was still only a promise waiting to rise, “though I did grow up here, so I probably do know a bit more than you,” she acknowledged your move to the city only a few years prior, “why? Are you suddenly in the mood for a change in careers?”

Though the truth was on the tip of your tongue, you still found yourself obeying the commands the gangsters had sent you home with. Telling the cops was no use because they were all in their pockets, and confiding in a loved one also wasn’t a smart choice as that would only put them in danger.

“Have you ever heard of someone called Bucky Barnes?” you asked, instinctively lowering your voice to a whisper.

The ever light-hearted expression plastered upon Kate’s face fell at the recognition of that name, “yeah…”

“Really?” your brows rose, “what do you know about him?”

“I mean, other than that he’s the supposed leader of the Avengers, not too much.”

“The Avengers?”

“Yeah, one of New York’s most notorious gangs,” she let out a breath, “from what little I know, they get up to a shit ton of stuff straight out of a De Niro movie or something, but their real money maker is cocaine… I mean, that’s why the head of the group is known as the winter soldier.”

“How do you know about all this stuff?” you squinted back at her in slight amazement.

“Went to med school with a few coke heads, might have dated one of them,” she blurted before shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand, “anyways, Y/n, the point is, you don’t wanna mess with those types, trust me.”

“I know,” you uttered quietly as you shrugged on your coat and pushed your locker closed, “I wasn’t planning on it, I was just curious…”

As you dragged your foaming toothbrush over the last of your teeth, a loud knock suddenly rattled your front door, causing you to jump atop the pink bathmat in your tiny bathroom.

Neck twisted out towards the entryway of your apartment, you briefly leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpaste slowly leaking out of your mouth, before your feet began to carry you towards the exit.

One of your palms momentarily ran over the edge of your pyjama-clad arm as the night chill soaked through the cotton and made you yearn for the warmth of your bed.

Though as you pulled on the handle, the haunting figures on the other side of the door caused your blood to freeze with recognition. Standing tall on the other side of the threshold, there stood two of the Avengers’ henchmen.

“You need to come with us,” the one called Barton ordered coldly. Over the few days the gang had held you captive, you’d picked up on the names of many of the members, including the two that stood before you now.

“What?” your chest rose and fell rapidly, “I–, please, I swear, I haven’t told a soul.”

Having them knock at your door was one thing, but even just the thought of criminals such as them knowing where you lived sent you into a spiral.

“Yeah, we know you haven’t,” Scott put a hand on the doorframe, “that’s not why we’re here.”

“What happened?” you murmured as you were led into one of the many sitting rooms in the mysterious manor they once again brought you to. In an armchair before you, half-empty glass of bourbon in metal hand and the sleeves rolled up on his blood-tainted shirt, there sat the big bad winter soldier himself, panting as he slowly sipped.

Though when the sound of your voice filled the room, Bucky’s eyes only snapped up to yours for a moment before he shot a glare at his men.

“What is she doing here?” he grumbled lowly.

“Boss, you busted your stitches,” Lang gestured tensely to the crimson slowly staining his crisp white shirt, “what else were we–”

Intersecting the conversation, the broad form of Steve stepped into the space between the gangsters and swiftly snuffed the pending argument out, “thank you, Barton, Lang,” he nodded to each of them, “you can go,” and you watched the pair that had brought you back exited the room. Shifting his weight, Bucky’s right hand man turned to you and offered you a polite smile, “Y/n, pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, not masking your disdain of the situation you’d been dragged into yet again, “I wish I could say the same…” before you shifted your eyes to the man in the chair, though still directed your question at Steve, “what do you need me to do?”

As you shifted closer to the intimidating leader, ever drinking, surely to dull the pain, Rogers murmured as you kneeled down to assess, “I think it’s just the one on his shoulder that’s–”

“Yeah, I see it,” you cut him off, then glanced back over your shoulder at him, “do you still have that medical bag?”

“Yeah, one second,” he swiftly disappeared to fetch it, leaving you all alone with the feared mob boss.

With the crackling fireplace off to the side as your only source of light, you cautiously raised your hands and asked, “do you mind taking this off?” motioning to the shirt he wore.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky sighed and sat down his glass before shrugging the item off. Though you’d stared at his bare chest for hours on end before, soaking in his reveal once again for some reason caused your heartbeat to pick up, though you swiftly averted your gaze in an attempt at staying professional.

Not long passed before Rogers had returned with the supplies, and you’d commenced redoing his stitches.

“So,” you murmured though your concentration, weaving his skin back together, “do I even wanna know how this happened?”

Blinking down at you, your face close to your work and therefore his skin, Bucky breathed, “probably not...” and as his stare only intensified over the next few stitches, his low timbre once again washed over you as the corners of his lips tugged into the slightest of smirks, “cute PJs, by the way…”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get a chance to change,” you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” his gaze shifted to take in the way the cool night air had caused your nipples to become visible like pebbles beneath the thin stripy fabric, the comment making you shift tensely on your knees.

Once the last of the knots were tied off and you’d snipped the end of the thread, you wrapped the wounds back up with clean bandages before placing the roll of gauze back into the medical bag.

“Alright, uhm,” you shifted back, “you’re good now,” a slight winch shot through you as you watched him briefly test out his arm’s mobility, “just be careful, try not to use it too much.”

Catching your eye, he uttered softly, “thank you,” before shifting his gaze to the gangster by the door, “Rogers?”

“Yes, boss?”

“See to it that she gets home safe.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“I’ve heard the risotto here is really good,” Peter noted as you both skimmed the menus resting on the tablecloth before you, the crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant cast a soft glow down upon the choices.

“Yeah?” you briefly glanced up to catch the doctor’s eye, “well, maybe I should get that then,” you shrugged before shifting slightly in your seat, “hey,” you captured his gaze once more, “could you maybe order for me? I just need to–…” you trailed off, letting the thumb you discreetly pointed over your shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms fill out the rest of the sentence.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he nodded.

“Great, thank you,” you smiled as you rose. The long, cobalt-blue, velvet dress you wore briefly swooshed around your legs before the soft click of your heels against the polished floors carried you through the maze of tables.

It was the third date you’d ventured on with the kind doctor. The third one and yet you still didn’t have any feelings towards him.

Stubbornly trying as you might, you still couldn’t get the poison out of your system and do the right thing.

Once you exited the ladies’ room, and big breath of courage in your lungs as you pushed open the door, it all seeped out as you walked through the small hallway that connected the lavatories with the dining space, and you accidentally bumped into two figures that waited in the space.

Unsure of who was to blame for the collision, you immediately just muttered, “oh, sorry–,” before you glanced up at the pair and your apology crumbled from your lips, your frame immediately freezing up at the recognition.

“Listen to me. You are going to quietly walk back to your little date, tell him that you’re not feeling well and need to go home,” Stark kept his voice hushed as both he and the other gangster slowly cornered you, the other one grasping your arm to keep you in place, “and then you’re gonna come with us.”

Sucking in a breath, you then tilted your chin slightly, “and if I don’t?”

“Then we won’t hesitate to make a scene,” Barton shifted the edge of his jacket out of the way to flash you the gun strapped beneath, “so you can either walk with us and safe a life or you can not only have a dying gangster’s blood on your hands, but also everyone in this fucking restaurant.”

With the clench of your jaw, you glared up at them and murmured, “...fine,” before you ripped your arm free and began to walk back into the dining area and the table where Peter still sat.

Flashing you a smile as you neared, the doctor swiftly said, “so, I ordered this chardonnay that the waiter said was good. You drink wine, right?”

“I–, uhm…” your fingers clutched the back of the chair as you tried to appear as you had before, even though now you felt as if your hammering heart might spring straight out of your ribcage, “Peter, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” you briefly scrambled your brain before adding, “the hospital paged me. There was a big accident downtown.”

“Really?” he fished out his own beeper from his pocket and furrowed down at it, “I didn’t get paged, so it probably can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, but nurses shortage, you know?”

“Right,” he nodded, disappointment slightly polluting his understanding expression.

“I'm really sorry,” you uttered as you picked up your small purse from the chair.

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his head gently, “hey, I get it,” he shrugged before waving a hand, “go.”

“Thank you,” you stood there a moment longer, unsure of how you should depart, “uhm… bye,” before you awkwardly shifted closer to his seat and leaned down to press a brief kiss to his cheek as you offered him a half-hearted hug.

“Who is it this time?” you sighed as you were led into an elegant space, surely intended for parties judging by the long bar that stretched along the back wall. Glaring at the only man seated on one of the barstools, you asked impatiently, “is it you? Did you hurt yourself again?”

Glancing over his shoulder as you halted your stride halfway down the short steps, a smile appeared on Bucky’s face as he leaned a forearm against the bar top and bellowed, “Y/n! Come, have a drink with me,” he waved a hand for you to take the seat beside him.

Standing your ground, you squinted back at him in confusion, “no, I can’t, I–, where’s the patient?”

“The patient?” he echoed as if you were speaking a foreign language.

“Yes,” you huffed, your annoyance simmering into a full-on boil, “the person who’s on death’s door, the reason why I, a medical professional, is here,” you placed your hands on your hips and asked once again, “is it you?”

“No, I’m phenomenal,” he pursed his lips as he snatched up the stout glass waiting for him on the marble counter, “never been better.”

“Okay, so who is it?”

Tearing his gaze away from you, he then uttered, “no one,” before raising the drink up to his lips. As your mouth parted and your glare nearly burned straight through him, the mobster casually added, “you look stunning, by the way,” before twisting in his seat to face you more, “I didn’t know they changed scrubs out with gowns.”

“No, I–, I was on a date–,” you muttered faintly through your confusion, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to clear it before you raised a hand, “wait, excuse me, no one’s injured?”

“No,” Barnes shook his head, “no one’s hurt or dying,” then added as if your reaction was a tad bit too dramatic for his taste, “you can relax, it’s fine.”

But instead, the opposite emotions roiled inside of you as you slowly ascended a single one of the remaining steps, “so you mean to tell me that your men threatened me, my date and a whole restaurant of people, then dragged me all the way out here again, for nothing?” you fumed.

“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he shrugged, “they brought you back here because I told them to,” he kept his ocean eyes upon you as he once again repeated, “now, come drink with me.”

“No, I don’t want a fucking drink,” you roared.

But then, just as swiftly as you had raised your voice, Bucky’s steely hand dipped beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.

“I asked you nicely,” his stern tone rolled off his tongue slowly as he aimed the weapon upon you, “now sit your ass down and share a drink with me.”

Carefully, you finally followed his orders and sat down at the bar beside him.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he uttered as he sat the gun down beside his drink. Raising up a hand to the silent shadow behind the bar, a glass was soon slid across the counter, one Bukcy pushed closer towards you, “here,” he said as you stared down at the orange peel floating at the top. As you lifted up the cocktail, the gangster beside you raised his own to click yours, “cheers.”

You briefly toyed with the thought of just taking a sip, though opted instead to down it all, both out of the desperate hope that the alcohol would aid the strange evening, but also in an attempt to fast forward a tad closer to your longed-for departure, ripping the bandage off instead of nursing it all night long.

Though as you sat the glass back down on the bar, the bottom clanged against the marble much more forcefully than you’d intended as the fingers you clutched it with began to tingle. Blinking heavily a few times, your hand accidentally knocked over the empty drink as a numbing sensation began to bloom within your chest and spread throughout your body.

Trying to get up from your seat, you mumbled foggily, “what the hell?” though quickly stumbled as your legs felt like jelly beneath your velvet gown.

“Whoa, careful now, angel,” Bucky’s calm gaze trailed you chillingly as you tried to steady yourself.

“The fuck did you do?” you panted as your wide eyes watched him raise from his seat.

“It's okay,” he uttered softly, “it’s all gonna be okay,” before your world turned to black and you passed out into his arms.

When you finally stirred, you were no longer at the bar, nor any other room you’d been in before. You were in a bedroom, situated on a spacious mattress and alongside countless fluffy maroon pillows.

As you sat up, a low rustling found your ears and drew your vision down towards the coldness clinging around your ankle. Strung between the bottom corner of the bedframe and your own foot, there shined a chain, one that, try as you instinctively did, you couldn’t snap out of.

But then, as the door to the room creaked open and caused your body to flinch, a plea swiftly flowed out of you as you watched Rogers step inside, balancing a small tray with a glass and a tall decanter of clear water.

“Steve!” you crawled to the bottom of the bed, “I–… help me, please,” you begged, hearing tears thicken up your voice as they rolled down your cheeks, “you’re a good man, deep down I know you don’t wanna stand by and let this happen. Can you unlock me? Please? Help me get out of here.”

But just as you waited for Steve’s lips to part, you instead heard, “shh, don’t waste your breath, honey,” as in strolled Bucky, causing you to swiftly scramble as far back on the bed as the chain would allow.

Sitting down in a chair just out of your reach, the fireplace opposing the bed, directly behind where he sat, clacked and lit up his spine as he settled into the seat and directed his cold gaze upon you.

“Glad to see you awake,” he uttered calmly.

“Fuck you!” you swiftly spat as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest.

“And with all of your charms still intact,” he tilted his head, a light smirk blooming on his lips as your vulgar language hadn’t fazed him one bit.

“Let me go,” you demanded.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, my angel,” his burly arms folded across his chest, “this is for your own protection,” he briefly gestured to the chain, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid or rash now, would we?” one of his eyebrows twitched, “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he uttered as you continued to stare daggers at him, “you need to be kept as safe as possible so you can keep on helping me the way that you have.”

“What? You want me to be your gang’s personal nurse?” you scoffed, “is this your sick and twisted way of offering me a job, because if so, no thanks!”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t a job offering, I’m not interested in those talents of yours,” he leaned further back in the seat before he began to explain, “you see, for the past few years, I’ve had a serious string of bad luck. Deals have fallen through, rats have been found, the feds have been snipping at our heels and countless of my men have lost their lives,” he listed off, “but, then I met you,” his eyes flickered up to capture your own, “and it all turned around,” he uttered, “I tell you, when you’re here, it’s fate herself is on my side and nothing whatsoever could go wrong. Like having you has made me a fucking god or something, that’s the level of power you’ve bestowed in me,” a faint smile tugged at his lips as those words rolled off his tongue, “so no, you can not leave. You have to stay right here where I can make sure you’re safe and sound. Although, just because you get to be kept safe, that doesn’t mean you’re free of any consequences if you step out of line… it also doesn’t mean that I’ll deny anyone of your beauty if it pleases them… so, I guess it’s more along the lines of you just staying alive under my watch.”

In the blind rage his words threw you into, your fingers wrapped around the bedside lamp before you chucked it across the room. Though just before it could strike the gangster’s head, he casually ducked out of the way, the lamp instead smashing on the floor behind him as a chuckle began to rumble within his chest.

“That’s cute,” he laughed lowly, “you’ve got some bite. It’ll get you in trouble, but it’s adorable.”

“I'm not interested in being your good luck charm, you superstitious fuck!” you yelled as he got up from his seat.

Huffing out a condescending grin, “give it some time, angel,” he fastened the button on his dark suit jacket before smoothing a palm down over the front, “the human psyche is much more fragile than you’d think and can get used to some surprising conditions,” he ignored the scream that desperately tore from your lungs and instead turned to Steve standing by the door and asked him calming, “Rogers, would you mind cleaning that up?” gesturing to the broken lamp on the floor, and as he received a small nod in return, he murmured, “thank you,” before exiting the room and leaving you to your fate.

“Seriously?” Steve let out a laugh when he finally coaxed the truth out as to why you hadn’t been touching any of the food they’d brought you, “and here I thought you were just a picky eater.”

“Well, you’ve already drugged me once so what’s stopping you from doing it again,” you explained, glaring down at the plate before you as he attempted to stifle his laughter.

“I swear, cross my heart, your pasta is not poisoned.”

Continuing to squint down at the food, you kissed your teeth, “prove it.”

“Really?” his brows floated up, “alright,” he sighed as he sat down across from you. Dragging your plate closer, he twirled some of the spaghetti onto the fork before slipping it into his mouth, “see?” he chewed, “I’m fine, and so will you be when you get some food in that belly of yours.”

Pushing it back towards you, hesitantly, you picked up the fork and slowly began to eat. It had only been little things you’d consumed the past couple of days being here, things you could be certain weren’t tainted, like the odd apple and such.

Though as you chewed and finally began to settle your stomach’s nauseating rumbling, tears began to stream down your cheeks.

No matter how hard you tried to beg, none of the mobsters would help you, as their loyalty was just too hard for you to crack.

“Hey…” your bloodshot eyes then flickered up to Rogers as he noticed your weeping, “it’ll get easier, I promise,” he attempted in a soft tone.

“How?” you blinked back at him hopelessly, “I am being locked up in a room by a maniac as if I’m just some trinket for him to own.”

Throwing a brief glance over his shoulder, he then leaned in a bit closer to cautiously advise you, “…there might be some things you could do to change your situation…”

“What?” a spark suddenly flickered within you, “I’d do anything.”

“…you might consider trying to get closer to Barnes…” his words remained hesitant, “…if he begins to care for you, then he might treat you differently…”

“Like, he’d let me go?”

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “but maybe it could get that chain off your ankle,” he gestured to your foot, “baby steps.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“Here,” Steve croaked as he suddenly burst through the doors to your room, a big flat box in his arms which he tossed on the bed beside you. Peeking inside, a folded-up bundle of black fabric met your eye, “put it on,” he ordered hastily, “make yourself presentable.”

“Why?” you blinked up at him, your brows knitting gently together.

“Because the boss requested it,” he answered impatiently.

“What, he wants to play dress up with me now? Treat me like a doll?”

Over the past month, you had gone from being scared out of your mind, barely sleeping at night, horrified of what they might do to you, till the paralysing fear slowly began to melt away as not much happened at all, in fact so little that you grew bored in your imprisonment, thinking that the big bad gangsters were just all bark and no bite. Perhaps that was a dangerous confidence to develop, growing cocky in your restlessness, but you couldn’t help it.

Letting out a low sigh, “just put it on,” Rogers’ head tilted before he said, “I’ll be outside, yell when you’re done.”

Popping the lid off all the way, you then slipped into the black gown waiting within. It was long and simple in its beauty as it hugged all of your curves like a second skin.

Right before you called out to the mobster in the hallway, you leaned in closer to the mirror on the left side of the room. The dark storm clouds visible out the gothic windows that filled up the wall behind you blossomed in the reflection alongside you as you momentarily fussed with your hair to make it match the elegant dress better.

Once Steve had entered the room once again, the very last thing you expected was what he did next.

Walking straight up to you, without a word, he bent down and unlocked the chain binding you to the bedpost. At first, a wave of hope washed over you till it was drowned out by the unsettling notion as to where he would take you and just what plans were on the horizon.

Grabbing you by the arm, he dragged you out of the room and down the dark hallway you’d only seen glimpses of before. You tried to ask him what was going on, though he didn’t offer you any clue in return, only remained silent as he hauled you through the maze-like manor till a wide set of steps found you, leading you down into a garage where a group of the other gangsters already stood beside the black car rolled up by the base of the stairs.

Standing in the middle with an arm resting against the roof of the vehicle, Bucky’s gaze swiftly landed upon you as you ascended the stone steps.

“Well,” the mob boss’ eyes roamed your form, “don’t you look pretty.”

Biting your tongue, you greeted him politely, “Mr Barnes.”

“Shall we go?” he cracked open one of the car doors.

“Where?” you tried, though your question only caused him to breathe out a smile as he ignored it and instead commanded softly.

“Get in the car, angel,” his metal arm rested atop the door.

Riding in a different vehicle than you, it was Clint who slipped in behind the wheel of your car and drove you the silent route towards the mysterious destination.

Though once the car came to a stop, the door to your left cracked open from the outside and there to greet you was an outstretched metal hand to help you exit.

You didn’t recognise the building that loomed before you, though it was grand and opulent with large steps leading you and all the other arrivals up to what sounded like a party already buzzing on.

“So, you needed a date,” you exhaled as Barnes took your arm and began to lead you up the stairs, a cluster of his men shadowing behind you both.

“No,” he cocked his head, “I didn’t need it...”

Casting your glance around at the other guests that passed, you asked, “what kinda party is this anyway? Let me guess, human trafficking auction?” you were completely serious, though still managed to make the gangster laugh gently.

“It’s a wedding,” his chuckle finished billowing out of his lungs, “or a funeral,” he tilted his head, “I'm not quite sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” you shot him a glance as you reached the top of the steps and he dragged you inside the marbled halls, “there’s a pretty significant difference.”

“They all just kinda melt together at this point,” he sighed, “I have at least one of these a week I gotta show my face at, just out of respect.”

Taking a look around, you uttered, “well, do you at least know who this funeral wedding is for?”

“No fucking clue,” he exhaled before following the signs and leading you into the venue’s ballroom.

Turns out it was a wedding for some couple you hadn’t yet spotted, though you’d already read their names a thousand times with all the stuff they were plastered upon.

You stayed quiet and lingered by Bucky’s side as he shook some people’s hands and made some small talk before the two of you found yourselves seated at one of the many round tables in the hall.

Blinking up at the floral centrepiece, your fingers fiddled with the white tablecloth as the hours rolled by. Soon, not only the complementary glass of champagne you’d been handed back when you arrived was sloshing in your belly, but also quite a bit more alcohol as you decided that was a good tool to make the evening more bearable.

It however also came with the hindrance of boosting your cockiness as you eventually found yourself poking the bear.

“You know for a big bad gangster,” you stared over at him, leaned back in the seat next to yours, “you’re actually not that scary up close,” you pursed your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble within his chest because of just how untrue that statement was, “smiling at everyone, being polite. Are you sure you really are the big bad winter solider? The king of New York with no heart and only an imagination for torture…”

“Well…” he huffed out a short laugh as he met your gaze, “don’t you have me just all figured out.”

“Some of your guys may have filled me in a bit,” you tilted your head.

“Have they now?” he continued to look amused.

“Yeah, well, a bit at least,” you seized your glass and took another sip.

As you placed the flute back down on the table and rested your cheek in a propped-up palm, your stare only intensified into a squint as Bucky’s eyes flickered back around the room.

But as his gaze fluttered back to notice your gawking, he muttered, “what?”

“Why aren’t you mean tonight?” you uttered through the haze fuzzing up your mind.

Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his eyes briefly dipped before he uttered, “do you want me to be mean?” a playful smirk twitched at the corner of his lip in a threat to appear.

“Is it all just a lie?” you asked, the subtext of his previous words flowing directly over your dizzy head.

“What?”

Squinting back at him, you then breathed, “there’s always a part of me that’s still scared, imagining what you might do to me… but now,” you slowly drew out, “I don’t think you’re actually ever gonna do anything,” you blindly decided, “that’s not really who you are, they’re all just empty threats…”

“Hm…” he hummed, a slight smile blooming upon his lips as he stared back at you, “okay…” before he leaned in closer to utter, “and just what makes you think that I haven’t already?” your face immediately dropped as his words caused your frame to freeze up, “tell me, Y/n,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “did you sleep well last night? Or the night before for that matter, or–, well, just during the time you’ve spent here with me?”

As your shock not only showed in your expression but also in your complete lack of speech, he simply grinned back at your stunned features before grabbing you by the hand and breaking the moment.

“Come on,” he dragged you with him as he then stood up himself, “let’s dance.”

With an argument on the tip of your tongue, the appendage, just as the rest of you, still remained too dumbfounded for it to come to fruition. You didn’t manage to gather your wits once again till he had you on the middle of the floor, wide hand on your waist as you swayed to the music.

As his hold slowly tightened and he brought you closer to his broad frame, your breath suddenly hitched as you blinked up into his eyes, the air between you growing thick. The hand that grasped your own near swallowed your palm in a dizzying contrast. Goosebumps began to erupt across your skin as you felt your heartbeat thump not only in your chest, but also much further south, a mortifying clue to the dark truth you hoped he didn’t somehow notice.

Gliding his palm up the length of your spine, it came to rest between your shoulder blades as he then drew you in closer and your gaze fell to the band strumming over his shoulder.

“Does the thought of me playing with you at night turn you on?” he whispered in your ear and continued to gently sway you to the music, “because if you want me to wake you, all you have to do is ask. Though my attempts so far at rubbing your luck off on me have been rather eventful, I’m still sure it would be better if you gave me a bit of a hand…”

Tilting your head back to blink up at him, you thought you were gonna spit him in the face for making such an accusation, till your stare acted of its own accord and fluttered down to fixate on his lips.

It almost felt as if they were calling for you, begging you closer like a stubborn magnet. But before you could close the short distance that kept you two apart, Barton appeared in your periphery and tapped his boss on the shoulder.

As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, you couldn’t pick up on the words over the music, though watched as Bucky’s face swiftly grew hard.

“What’s going on?” you asked as the secretive message came to an end and the mobster’s wide hands faded from your frame.

Ignoring your question, Bucky instead cast his glance over your head at one of the men behind you and ordered sternly, “Stark? Get her home, now.”

“What’s happening?” you tried again, though without success as Tony dragged you away and the remaining gathered to converse in hushed tones.

Perhaps it was because of the chaos of whatever was happening, perhaps just a simple mistake, but when you returned back to the manor, the shackle wasn’t reunited with your ankle.

Not willing to let that gift slip through your fingers, you soon grasped that opportunity tight and made an attempt at your escape.

Sneaking down the many hallways, you successfully hid from a handful of gruff-looking men before you realised you couldn’t remember the path to the garage or any other way out of the labyrinth of a building that kept you swallowed in the dark.

However, your mission turned into a swiftly sinking ship as soon as you rounded the wrong corner and crossed the threshold of the last room you should have entered.

In the centre of the space stood two chairs, both with individuals strapped to them, though only one of them was still alive. Before the seated pair and with his back turned to your frozen-up form, there stood Bucky. Returned from the party and with both his jacket and tie torn off, his sleeves were rolled up though still tainted in small crimson flecks of the deed he’d just done.

“Come on, Vladimir…” Barnes uttered as he kneeled down in front of the battered man still breathing, neither he nor the other members in the room haven noticed you in the doorway, “just give me what I want and we can wrap this up.”

Wheezing painfully through his broken nose, the man met Bucky’s steely gaze before fulfilling his request, “…I’m sorry…”

“Hm?” he leaned in pettily, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” the tied-up man repeated with a laboured huff.

“Okay, getting there,” he nodded, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for killing Bruce…” the name rolled off Vladimir’s tongue like a crackle to a bonfire.

“And?” Bucky fished.

“For hurting you…”

“See? That wasn’t so bad now,” Barnes straightened back up, “an apology, a life for the one you took from me, and now there’s just one last thing left to do, and then we’re even,” he then took one step back and conjured his gun. Aiming it at the Russian, barely a second passed before a shot deafened everyone’s ears and a bullet blasted through the tied-up man’s arm, mirroring the injuries Bucky himself had sustained. The loud blast and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Vladimir, however, caught you so off guard that a shriek slipped from you as you flinched, revealing your presence as everybody’s eyes suddenly shifted to train on you. Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky grunted, “what are you doing out? What is she doing out?” he shot his glare in the direction of Steve off to the side, “Rogers? Get her back into bed.”

“Yes, boss,” his right-hand man swiftly nodded before catching up to you in two long steps and seizing your arm.

And as you were dragged back to your doom, your eyes caught the tail end as Barnes let out a sigh and turned back around to face his victim, “now, where were we? Right! I believe the other one was right around here,” another gunshot echoed in the manor as he shot Vladimir’s arm once more, “and now, we can’t forget about the ones that only skimmed me, so get up and don’t fucking flinch, it’s on you if I hit your lung.”

The chain reunited with your ankle jingled as you twisted on the bed to cast your gaze out the window. Heavy rain hammered against the tall panes as the restless city twinkled through the darkness of the night. In the corner of the room, Steve watched up like a hawk as you continuously failed to find rest.

But then, just as you thought you felt your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, the double doors burst open and in paced Bucky.

“Is she awake?” he huffed, though didn’t wait for an answer before he heatedly went on, “okay, great.”

As his rushed steps halted by the foot of your bed, the look in his eye caused your body to shudder.

“Rogers?” he kept his cold stare glued on you as he uttered, “go wait outside.”

Though you silently pleaded with your eyes for the mobster to stay, it was no use as Steve swiftly shut the doors behind him.

As the man before you then shifted, your wide eyes finally noticed the bundle of rope in his grasp as he began to unravel it. Scrambling back, you didn’t manage to crawl far away before Bucky caught the chain and yanked it hard enough to force your frame down towards him. Though your struggling finally fizzled out when the gangster pulled out his gun, the very gun he’d just ended a life with, and aimed it at your head to get you to comply.

“You know,” he uttered gruffly like a pent-up bull, “I’ve been nice, I’ve been real well behaved, kept my manners intact, been a goddamn gentleman,” the heavy weapon in his hand tilted slightly to emphasise his words, “but evidently, that’s not what you need to learn your fucking place,” he fumed before letting out a low exhale, “that’s alright…”

“Bucky, please,” tears blurred your vision as you held up your palms, “I-I understand, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but I do…” he sighed almost softly as he then kneeled down closer and let the tip of the cool barrel stroke your cheek, “…if you don’t break a horse, then she’ll never be tamed…” his eyes trailed after the line he drew before it flickered up to find your own, “now give me your hands,” he ordered and hesitantly, you shakily obeyed.

Since you couldn’t stay in your place, he simply had to tie you down better.

Unfurling the rope in his grasp, the mobster then fastened the cord around not only both of your wrists, but also your free ankle. After each of the tight knots were tied off, he yanked each appendage to the nearest corner of the bedframe, spreading your limbs till you looked like a starfish on the mattress.

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, his fingers then dipped down into his pocket before a slight furrow found his brow as his touch didn’t locate the item he fished for. Placing the heavy gun in his palm down on the fireplace mantel, he then closed the distance towards the exit and cracked open the door just a smidge.

“Rogers?” he extended a hand through the sliver, “give me your knife,” to which a switchblade was swiftly placed in his palm, replacing his own which was still lodged deeply inside the corpse of the Russian in the other room.

Slamming the door behind him, he then crossed the room and silently began to cut your clothes off. The black gown you still wore came off with only a few slices, though your underwear, that he took his time with, slowly grazing the blade over your goosebump-ridden flesh before nicking the cotton clinging tightly to your frame.

Once you were bare before him, his feet shuffled back slightly as he let his stare soak up every millimetre of you.

A hand floated up to tug on his tie and loosen it slightly from around the collar still dappled with the blood of his enemy. Folding closed the knife with a faint flourish, he then sank down into the armchair directly behind him. The tattered panties he’d sliced from you were still clutched tightly in his hand as his eyes stayed glued upon your frame. Bringing the fabric up to his nose, his blue eyes then fluttered closed for a second as he breathed deeply, letting the scent of you flood his senses.

But as he stuffed the cotton down into his pocket and let his palm drift to somewhere else, your eyes grew even wider as you gasped, “what are you–”

“Just shut up, please,” he groaned, sounding like he was at his very last straw as he brashly began to rub himself through his pants, “just for one fucking second, don’t be a brat.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but hit the floor as he shamelessly pulled out his cock, letting the intimidating hardness spring free of its confines before he spit in his palm and enclosed his fist around the fat girth. You wanted to look away, you truly did, but you just couldn’t, a flaw he obviously noticed.

“You’re unbelievable…” he chuckled as his fist silkily stroked up and down his cock, the mixture of his own spit and the precum beading at the tip caused a sloppy melody to fill the room at each and every twist, “I mean, me being into you, that’s one thing, that makes sense, you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve ever experienced, so of course that’s enough to get me going, but you… you’re the very textbook definition of a good girl and here you are pining after–, how was it again you put it? A superstitious fuck?”

Stunned at his accusation, you tried to tear your stare away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Well, I didn’t take you for a fool, but hey,” he tilted his head, “some folks are just that disconnected to their own feelings.”

Blinking back at him, you scoffed faintly, “you’re crazy, I’m not–…” but you couldn’t even say it out loud as you, deep down, knew that it was a lie.

“Oh yeah?” he cocked a brow, finding your flustered state amusing, “then why did you almost kiss me tonight?”

“I–…I was drunk.”

Letting out a dark chuckle, “alright, sure,” he then rose from his seat and crawled up on the bed with you before he buried his face between your parted thighs, “if you despise me so much, then why are you so fucking wet?” his hot breath fanned across your core.

“I’m not–,” you tried, though your attempt then fell short as he proved you wrong, reaching out his touch to tickle at your lightly and let the wet sounds of your arousal slosh into your soul.

“Hm?” the broad pad of his thumb gently brushed over your glistening petals, making them part for him, “if this isn’t because deep down you want me, then why? I’d love to hear you try and explain your way out of this one…”

“I-I–…” your eyes fluttered as you tried to fight the feeling, “I don’t…”

Laughing lightly through the scoff that then bubbled out of him, he averted his gaze and said, “okay, fine. You wanna play that game?” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “if you need a bit of help in order to admit the truth, then that’s what you’ll get,” he uttered before suddenly stuffing two of his fingers inside of you.

Craning his neck, he tilted down to catch a taste. You tried to hold back your moans as his digits caressed you, but the softness of his velvety tongue came as such a shock that a little squeak managed to slip out past your lips.

“I mean, if it’s any consolation,” his stubbly chin glimmered with your essence as he retracted slightly to smirk, “I personally think it’s kinda cute that you have a crush on me like a little schoolgirl…”

He then sent his palm down upon your pussy in a wet smack, before repeating the action a couple of times to echo the jolt it shot through your body.

“Fuck…” he groaned in a low rumble, “you are so much more pretty awake…” he revealed casually, “sure, you make some cute noises in your sleep, but not like this,” you instinctually tried to stifle the uncontrollable whimpers that flowed from your lungs, “you should really be thanking me for all of the time and effort I’ve put into stretching this little hole of yours out,” his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, “if I hadn’t, well then you might just split in two when I finally get my cock in there.”

And as he leaned down to lap you up once more, you curled your toes as you felt him push you closer to the edge.

“Mr Barnes…” you attempted with an air of respect through your pants, “please don’t–…”

“Why? Because it makes you want to kiss me again?” he teasingly taunted you before continuing his persistent licks, bullying your clit into submission.

And as he kept going, even as you gasped, “stop–, a-ah!” he still kept his lips locked around your puffy pearl long after a gush of squirt wept around his fingers, keeping his efforts up till your hips were bucking back in sensitivity.

But when his kiss finally ceased, he let some of your juices, that had flooded into his mouth, trickle out past his lips and back down onto your pussy, “fuck…” his low groan nearly caused the whole room to rumble, “nasty little cunt…” before he slapped your throbbing core once more, watching as the last little trickle weakly leaked out and soaked the sheets below.

Lifting himself up to hover above your constricted form, you then squirmed as you felt him nudge the bulbous tip of him against you.

“Does the idea of liking, or even loving, someone like me scare you that much?” he uttered as he gathered up your slick and smeared it with his cock, “does it make you feel all wrong and icky inside that I of all people make you feel the way that you do?”

All of the air in your lungs was then suddenly knocked clean out as he, with one long stroke, slipped all the way inside, before pulling right back out to tap the weight of him against your poor clit with the hold he had at his base.

“You won’t spontaneously combust if you admit it out loud, you know…”

He repeated the motion, plugging you up completely before he denied your cunt the chance of getting used to the stretch.

“I just wanna hear you say it…”

And on the next time he filled you up to the brim, this time his hips didn’t retract.

Reeling as you fought to comprehend the manner his girth split you open, you gasped weakly, “I can’t…”

“Hmm…” his eyes above you narrowed slightly before he pointed out, “that’s not a no,” and he began to move, “finally getting somewhere…”

The gangster was in no way gentle as he started to fuck your pussy, the selfish force of it caused your body to jostle every time his heavy balls tapped against your slick skin, thereby conducting a lewd beat each time he slammed into you.

Lowing himself to get even closer to you, his nose ghosted against your own from the proximity. The gesture made you assume that he was about to press his lips to yours, though they never touched, even as your own instincts overwhelmed you and made you dizzily tilt up to try and close the gap, “nah-ah-ah,” he swiftly clicked his tongue and moved out of your reach, “admit the truth and then I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With his length still embedded deep within you, he sat back up. His fingers dented your hips as he grabbed onto them and then began to sink them harshly down against his own, lifting your frame entirely off of the mattress as he used you like a toy.

“Oh god…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered down to notice the faint bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, the thrusting imprint of his size visibly showing just how deep he buried himself inside of you.

Once he’d plopped your hips back down onto the bed, his hands then instead floated up to play with your tits, the rhythm he offered you causing them to jiggle in his palms. Though once he’d fiercely pinched your nipples and parted ways in a brief tap, his fingers then drifted further down south till his right hand found your puffy clit.

Casting his glance down as he rubbed your pearl, a smirk appeared on his lip as he spotted the way your cream coated his girth. Sweeping down to smear his touch against it, what he did next caught you so off guard that you jostled wildly in your binds in an attempt to hit him for his audacity.

“Ahh!” you yelped as he stuffed two of his fingers in your pussy alongside his already overwhelming girth, “Buck, no, it’s too much!”

But your squeak only caused him to chuckle as he stared down at the way your little hole struggled to take what he gave it, clinging around him so tightly that loud groans began to billow from him as he soon painted your insides white and pumped you full of his cum.

With heavy breaths, he withdrew his dick, though let his digits stay inside your warmth.

“Maybe in time you could become more than just my good luck charm…” he murmured as he flopped down to curl closer to your core, “would you like that?” he nipped at one of your thighs as his load slowly began to leak around his thick fingers, “does the idea of me falling down to my knees before you and declaring my undying love entice you, angel?”

“You’ll just have to do better,” he continued as his digits began to twist within you, “let me mould you and make you perfect for me,” another one of his fingers was stuffed inside of you, causing your eyes to flutter, “just let go,” he breathed, “shut off your brain and let it become a leaky mess just like your pussy already is for me,” he worked another digit into your creamy cunt before grazing the last one against your stretched out opening, “you don’t need to think, you just need to do exactly as I tell you to and everything will be okay,” his tone was soft as his thumb curled close to the others and sank into your pussy with a pop, “just break for me, it’s okay,” your body was shaking beneath him as his entire fist slowly twisted within you, “you’ll be so much more perfect ruined…”

Tears were streaming down your face as you unravelled once more, trembling violently as your pussy clamped down around his wide hand so tightly that it was forced all the way out, a drizzle of your nectar once again spraying out at the intensity.

“Alright!” you let out a sob, “alright… I–… I don’t understand it… but, I–…” you caught his eye and confessed, “ever since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… even when I fall asleep, it’s like you’re haunting me in my dreams…” a faint shake found your head as you blinked up at him through your blurry vision, “I don’t wanna feel this way. But–… I do.”

It seemed as though time stood still as Bucky stared down at you, an unreadable expression tinting his features before he finally shifted, slowly leaning down over you and inching closer before he finally pressed his lips to your own.

A faint whimper was muffled against his kiss as you felt the world crumble around you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now…” he breathed as he ended the soft peck, “say it again,” his hand slid over your jaw, “practice makes perfect.”

Blinking up into his eyes, you uttered from the bottom of your heart, “I am yours,” a single tear rolled down your cheek as you still trembled beneath him.

“Damn right you are…” his lips tilted into a smile.

Fishing out the borrowed switchblade that still rested within the gangster’s pocket, he then sliced through the ropes and constricted you.

Tangling your arms around his neck as you sat up, you captured his lips once again and felt his touch slide down under your ass before he scooped you into his lap. Your sore pussy wept against his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock against your core. As your tongue danced against his own, you couldn’t help but scramble even closer, pressing your body impossibly close to his own as you grinded down against him.

“You are mine,” he groaned as he manhandled your frame in his hold and sank you back down onto his fat dick, “you are my most prized possession,” your bodies met in sticky claps as the aftermath of the rough round moments before still oozed all over this one where passion crackled behind both of your own desperate efforts, “I will never let you go,” he blinked up into your eyes as you rode him, both of you clinging to each other as the end crept ever nearer, “always need you–,” his sentence was briefly broken up by a moan as you rolled your hips, your pussy gripping around him and squeezing him tightly, “need you by my side…”

Once your synced-up orgasms had both shuddered your senses and you were sharing each other’s breath, your eyes remained locked as his throbbing cock stayed buried deep within you.

“So, what now?” your chest rose and fell as you whispered into the night, the pitter-patter of rain splashing against your windows once again catching your attention as it swept over and mingled with your laboured pants of breath.

Not shifting his gaze, his eyes briefly scanned your own in search of any ounce of deception, before his fingers dipped down into his pocket and conjured a tiny key, “now,” and he stretched down to undo the chain at your ankle. The click of the lock felt like a gasp of real air was finally filling your depraved lungs, “I take you to my room,” and he manoeuvred you around to slink one arm in behind your knees while the other stayed fast at your spine. As he rose from the bed, he plucked you up with him as well, carrying you in his hold as he exited the bedroom.

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backtothefanfiction · 1 year ago

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Ahhhhhhgggggg!!!! I’m so excited!!!!!

Also I don’t care how long it takes, will just make the new honey x Peter content even better. As they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder 🥰

cw: real life tragedy, immediately followed by fake spiciness

It’s been a long time since I posted anything original. But I’m trying.

I have a ridiculously long peter x honey smut tale about 90% complete. I started writing it in July. Real life is getting in the way.

A friend of mine died a week before Halloween.

My dog died three days after my birthday.

My family’s dog died on Christmas.

Almost a week ago, I found out that my estranged biological mother passed away in a hospice clinic. A medical examiner gave me the news six days after she died. I think the last time I spoke to her was 2017.

All this is to say, I’m having a rough time. That’s a shit ton of unfortunately timed trauma.

But I’m still here, trying to get through one day at a time. One paragraph at a time.

Speaking of which, a sneaky peaky… please enjoy.

@sincericida @moonyslove78 @blooming-violets @withahappyrefrain @mrshipsmcgee @rae-gar-targaryen @p3mybeloved @drew-garfi

A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. She was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him.

Her hands then went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving red trails on his creamy skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss. Her teeth tore at his lips, and he groaned into her mouth.

Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.

Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.

Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backwards a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the gap they created. An eerie calm settled over them, like the barometric pressure plunging right before a storm.

Honey blinked at him owlishly, mouth open and her palm throbbing.

Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess; hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin. His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dapped his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquiste lines of his face were stained pastel pink. His eyes were black as night.

Peter watched her, pupils dialating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.

There’s my girl.

#peter x honey #lizzy writes! sugar and vice #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #Fic rec #mob!peter fan club #mob peter parker imagine

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reidslovely · 4 months ago

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Can I Have a Moment (Before I Go)

Pairing: (Implied Mob) Peter Parker x Fem! Reader

Content Warnings: None.

Authors Note: I think I am only good for angst anymore, that is all I am giving recently. Sorry. Also not proof written at all because I wrote this in one go.

Synopsis: In a gathering of hundreds of individuals, two ex-lovers find each other.

“He is just so..magnetic. The way he talks, he has you holding on to every word.” Mary-Jane hums as she sips on her gin and tonic, blissfully unaware of the butterflies building up in her friend's stomach. “I still won’t ever understand what happened between you two.”

Calmly, she pushed her hair off her cheek before clearing her throat. Looking at Mary-Jane the other girl shook her head before finishing her drink all in one go.

“We were kids. Too young to understand everything that was going on.

Standing on her wobbling legs she excused herself, trying to exit to the ladies room quickly and quietly before Peter could B-line her way. The intense eye contact during his speech was enough, and now she had his eyes locked to her figure as he spoke with a dark haired man about god knows what. She had to gather herself before they could have any interaction.

A shaky breath left her as she found the line for the ladies room, her hands resting on her hips as she screwed her eyes shut counting backwards from 10. She opened her eyes back up and suddenly the world was not swallowing her whole, and the pink satin of her dress no longer strangled her to death. One of the models standing in front of her turned back to look at her, a clear sense of worry in her eyes as she forced a smile back. She was thankful that the other girl left it at that and turned back to whoever she was talking to in line.

Just when everything settles, her ears prick up at the sound of her name from a familiar voice.

“(Y/N)!”

In a moment of reflex she turned over her shoulder to see Peter striding over to her, more handsome than he had been all those years ago. She took him in, he was a man now. Full beard, clad in a baby blue suit and nice haircut. A gold band sitting on his left ring finger and suddenly butterflies were slowly turning into a cardiac arrest. She took his outstretched hand, slotting perfectly into his as he brought her into a hug, a friendly kiss on the cheek. The same old routine of lovers turned to strangers.

“Peter. Oh gosh, how have you been? I haven't seen you in so long.”

His eyes twinkled in the dimly lit venue. His hand still turned hers over in his palm as he watched her. For a moment he looked like he did the night they met.

“I know, I- I’ve been meaning to reach out but I’ve been so busy with work and I just got married and..life.” He laughs, it is airy and almost like he doesn't have a care in the world. He always did that, even when the world was falling down around them Peter would laugh and smile and everything would feel settled for a minute. She opened her mouth to talk but nothing came out, she looked over shoulder to the line getting shorter.

“Listen, uh if you have a moment I’d love to talk and catch up.”

He offered, she was still painfully aware of how tightly he was holding her hand. Though his tone was cool and calm, his body language was begging. His chest rose and fell almost in a rapid pattern, and there was a slight shake to his hand. Looking around she cleared her throat, nodding as she made eye contact with the crowd of people to avoid his eyes.

“Yeah, I can meet you on the rooftop in a couple of minutes. I just-” She pointed over her shoulder awkwardly to the bathroom. “Want to freshen up. Long night.”

“Of course..yeah. Yeah I’ll meet you there.” He hugged her again, leaving without a kiss to the cheek. She watched him tuck his hands in his pockets walking towards the staircase to the rooftop. A part of her was glad to fight all the voices telling her to turn back around and run, if she had she’d miss the smile he gave her across the room.

The rooftop was a bit more chilly than she had predicted it would be. Her eyes landed on Peter, a cigarette in his hand as he looked over the city. She stood still for a moment, taking in the man he’d become, unsure of how to approach him.

“Want a hit?”

He laughs as he turns around, her eyes having drilled through his back long enough. She shook her head as she approached with soft steps, heels in hand. The wind had picked up, prickling at her skin sending a chill down her spine. Or maybe it was due to the lack of space between them. She wished she had a camera, to take a picture of how he looked. Both obviously older, Peter had wrinkles and smile lines on his face which were well complimented by the gray hairs decorating his dark beard. She herself had found her first gray hair earlier today, should have been a sign for how the day was going to go.

“What are you looking at?” He laughed while putting out the cigarette on the stone. (Y/N) smiled, shaking her head, laughing at herself.

“You got old.”

Peter threw his head back laughing, covering his mouth with his hand before settling down. “Yeah, well you’re one to talk.”

“No, no it’s just strange. That’s all..last time I saw you we were fighting over marriage and kids. You taking over the business, me going into modeling. And now, well.”

“It’s funny because we were just kids ourselves.” He sighs. “God I was nineteen on my hands and knees begging you to marry me. It was all I wanted.”

Silence crept in as she remembered the last thread of stress that broke them apart, she remembers how devastated and heartbroken they both were. She had nothing to say except: “It wasn’t going to be a no for forever. I had just turned nineteen Peter, I had my first real modeling job. Everything was getting too scary. I just..”

“Needed time. I was impatient, let's be honest I was never good at waiting.”

It was her turn to laugh, her hand raising to cover her face. “You really weren’t but look..” She pointed at the band on his finger. “Gwen’s a lucky woman, I’m glad you two reconnected. If it wasn’t me I’m glad it was her.”

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, but he didn’t seem to care. He smiled his signature Peter Parker smile and she couldn’t help but give one back.

“I did really love you, and I hope you know I carry it with me every day. I carry you with me.” Peter says quietly, looking down at the city. She pressed her lips together, her hand reaching out and rubbing his back.

“Same here. I still look for you in everybody I date.” She admits with a soft breath. “I loved you, and a part of me always will. Pleas-” She was cut off by the door opening, the photographer from the party smiled at them.

“Some red head told me I could find you up here, we need a picture of our two biggest donors.” He raised his camera, almost as a prompt. Peter smiled and nodded, whispering a quick of course. “As long as I can get a copy sent to me.” He laughed.

His arm wrapped around her in a smile. (Y/N) smiled back, even though she knew there was a storm of emotions brewing in her eyes, she hoped the smile on her face was genuine. She was thankful that he came when he did, because the next words out of her mouth could have torn them both up. She’d just have to keep that to herself.

taglist: @sincericida @blooming-violets @tarzinnia @moonyslove78 @liz-allyn @someblessedmonster @helloheyhihowdyheya @a-lumos-in-the-nox @hollandweather @toomanyfictionalboyfriends

#tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm andrew garfield #tasm peter x reader #andrew garfield #tasm peter smut #tasm peter x you #bambi recs #tasm peter imagines #tasm peter parker smut #tasm peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #mob peter parker x reader

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peterdarlingg · 3 months ago

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Mob!tom tonight!!! 👀

Finally for real this time

#Tom holland #Tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #Tom holland fics #mob!tom holland au #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom holland #peter parker

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moonyslove78 · 2 years ago

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@liz-allyn

Soooo I was looking through my AG pics on my phone and I found this beauty deep within… And the first thing that popped into my mind (because of the backdrop in the photo) was…

Oh this could totally have been a photo Honey snapped of Peter at the coffee shop during one of her ‘slow shifts’ where they were just standing around talking and messing around. And she likes it so much, she makes it her Lock Screen.

She forgets about it until she gets handed a new ‘Spider Phone’ and Peter tells her Peni said that she was able to transfer all of her pictures and videos from her old personal phone to the new spider phone. And when she turns it on, this is her Lock Screen still. She’s like “Oh! I forgot about that!” and shows Peter.

He kinda has a dumbfounded giddy smile on his face and she’s like “Whaaaat? What’s that look for?” And his reply was “You really had my picture as your wallpaper?”

And while he’s still got that smile she can’t help but wrap her arms around him and kiss him silly and say “Of course I did! Who wouldn’t wanna look at that face everytime they open up their phone?”

😅😅😅

Thank you for your attention with my obsessive thoughts! You can go ahead with your day now! 💙😂

#💬 sugar and vice #mob!tasm peter parker #Peter Parker x Honey Imagines #yessss I did actually make it my Lock Screen #my love for these two characters runs deep

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evermorx89 · 2 years ago

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some recs of mob!tom holland series or mcu! peter parker? thankss

#mob!tom x reader #peter parker x reader #mcu!peter parker #tom holland x reader series #peter parker x stark!reader imagine

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sincericida · 2 years ago

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From the series: worth reading again ❤

Idk if someone has requested this already for your bingo prompts but jumping onto the bandwagon and requesting arranged marriage for reader and mob boss peter (can I also request a slight age difference and reader being terrified of what her husband does)

I like to think I added a nice twist to the whole "arranged marriage" trope.

Warnings: reader has a crappy family, some violence, mention of abuse

You stared ahead as your mother applied blush on your face. The itchy fabric of the dress she insisted on you wearing was digging into your skin. You desperately wished to yank out the bobby pins digging into your scalp.

Instead, you stayed still as she made you 'presentable'.

"Remember, don't say a word unless he asks you. Last thing we need is that mouth of yours ruining our one chance."

How do you pay a hitman to take care of your debts when you have no money?

You offer him a wife as payment.

In a way, you were glad Peter Parker wanted to see you before agreeing to marry you. Though it didn't make you feel less like some animal on display.

Your mother's hand on your arm yanked you out of your thoughts.

"Did you hear me? You better listen when he talks, men hate a woman who doesn't listen."

Of course, they just want a doll, not a wife. You fought back the snide comment. Your family had been tense about this meeting for the past few days. Snarky comments wouldn't help.

It was a double win for them. They'd get rid of their debt and of you.

"It's the best I can do," your mother sighed, "Tell him she's ready."

Your eyes fixated on the gaudy artwork your father insisted on hanging in his office. In a way, you were thankful that they told you this news the night before.

It gave you the chance to cry into your pillow until you fell asleep. Now a numb, empty feeling resided within you.

Was it such a shock that they would hand you over to a man so easily capable of being cruel and violent?

It shouldn't, given their annoyance towards your whole existence.

"You'll finally be useful. He's needed a new wife anyways, it's been three years since his first one died."

The door opened, yet your eyes still remained on the stupid artwork. They remained on it even when a long, lean torso clad in well tailored dress pants and a button up stood in front of you.

Long, ring-adorned fingers hooked themselves around your chin, forcing your head to tilt upwards until you made eye contact with your potential husband.

Peter Parker was handsome, you'll give him that. But his amber eyes were hardened and looked devoid of emotion. Not that you expected much from someone who made themselves known for being able to quickly and efficiently commit violent acts.

He tilted your head to the side, his lips tightly drawn together as he inspected you.

You tried to keep your face neutral, to not show any emotion. Partly so if this deal went sour, your parents couldn't cast (as much) blame onto you. Partly because you didn't want him to think you were scared.

You hoped he couldn't see that your hands were shaking.

"Stand." His voice was deep, laced with a Queens accent.

Hesitation filled you, until your eyes made contact with the death glare your mother was sending you.

And so you stood, albeit slowly. You already knew he was older than you, but the fact you didn't even come up to his chin made you feel like a child.

Perhaps that would deter him.

Instead, he chuckled, "You're so little."

You couldn't help but look down, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

This time you felt all of Peter's hands as they cupped your jawline, his fingers reaching the back of your neck. Your gaze was brought back to his face, his brow knitted in concentration as he studied yours.

"Pretty eyes," he muttered, "You talk?"

"When I want to," you whispered without thinking. Great, you blew it. He'd reject the offer and your family would actually have a valid reason to hate you and-

"And a sense of humor! I'll take her," He told your parents, as if you were some cut of meat and they were the butcher's at the local deli.

His hands dropped from your face as he turned to your parents, "Gotta get the place ready. I can take her Wednesday."

Pretty eyes and a sense of humor. That was all Peter Parker needed to determine you would make a suitable wife.

He didn't even attempt to have a conversation with you. That was what sealed the deal. He just wanted a warm body to fuck and birth his children. And while he found delight in your sense of humor now, that certainly wouldn't be the case later.

Sure, life with your family wasn't great. But what was the point of trading one hell for another?

So you ran. Or tried to.

You barely made it to the gate of your family's house when you heard yelling. You attempted to begin to climb up the gate when a large hand grabbed your ankle, pulling you down.

A curse fell from the lips of one of your father’s henchmen as you kicked, freeing you briefly. For a moment, you thought you had a chance. That perhaps a higher power did exist and took pity on you.

How stupid of you.

Another pair of arms grabbed your waist. You used all your strength to try to free yourself. Just when you thought you had a chance, you felt a rag cover your mouth.

Despite the sweet smell that flooded your nostrils, your body surged with panic. It became difficult to fight back, having to use all your strength just to jerk back your wrist.

And still, it wasn't enough. The rough material of rope dug into your skin.

You don't know when you closed your eyes, but the last thing you recalled hearing was "Let's give Parker an early wedding gift."

Despite years of no one listening to you, you still managed to mumble a weak "No.

Not that it mattered. It never did.

—----------------------

Rough hands grabbed your arms, pulling you up from the car seat. Your body was slow to react, though that didn't stop you from trying to resist.

The rag placed in your mouth made it next to impossible to scream, though it didn't prevent you from making such an attempt.

An elbow jabbed you in the ribs, causing you to bend over in pain.

"No wonder your folks want to get rid of you."

The men dragged you into a huge house that had nearly all of the lights turned off.

You tried to fight back, tried to wrangle yourself out of their grip. But they held on tight, practically dragging you through the house into you came into a study.

Hands shoved you hard, pushing you onto the floor, the marble bruising your knees.

You looked up to find Peter Parker sitting on the couch.

What a pathetic site you were. You could feel the mascara that had stained your cheeks, your body bruised and beaten from your attempts of escaping.

"What the fuck is going on?" He asked, sounding angry. That didn't shock you, he did say that he would be ready to take you in two days.

Now he was getting you early.

"Boss saw her trying to escape. Said to get her and bring her over to you," one of your father's men explained.

He nodded his head as he stood up, walking over to you. You stared at the floor, too ashamed of yourself to look at him.

"Her family says she's all yours." The other man mentioned.

It shouldn't have shocked you that your family would be willing to give you away to a violent man without any regards to your well-being. But it still stung.

This time you couldn't even wipe away your tears.

"They wanna know when you'll hold up your end of the deal," one of the men said to Peter.

Peter didn't respond. Instead, he kneeled down, his hands reaching to cup your face. The cool metal of his rings felt soothing against your hot, tear-stained face.

His eyes examined you. First your face, then the rest of your body. His amber eyes hardened upon seeing the bruises and marks on you, a scowl forming on his face.

"Hello? Parker, you got an answer or not?"

"Wednesday. Like I said I would," He replied without looking at them, his eyes still on you.

"Enjoy your new wife. Good luck with this one," they scoffed.

"Take the back way, Miles will show you," Peter leaned in, his lips hovering over your ear.

"You're safe now."

No you weren't. Your parents just handed you over to a man who had killed with his bare hands. Not only that, but they showed him exactly what they thought of you, letting him know the level of treatment they expected from him towards you was low.

Peter's hands moved towards the rope that bounded your arms and hands together, making quick work of removing them.

"They're not gonna fucking touch you after that," he muttered.

You stared at him in confusion.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out, clearly coming from inside the house. Then another.

From a distance, you could hear the voices of your father's men, yelling out in agony.

Two more shots quickly silenced them.

Peter's hands moved up to your face, removing the rag your mouth had been gagged with.

You stared at him. You should run. You could run now, thanks to him removing the ropes. Why would he do that?

Wouldn't he want his wife tied up, nice and pliant? Or did he get some sick, twisted pleasure from the idea of you putting up a fight against him? A fight he would win in an instant.

"W-why did you do that?" Was all you could ask.

"So that way when your family finds their bodies on their doorstep, they know not to bother me about why I haven't offed Craven to take care of their debt," He explained, as if it was clear as day.

He held his hand out for you. All you could do was stare in horror at the man in front of you.

"I need to check the burn marks you got from the rope. There's better lighting in the library." As if that should be enough to convince you.

He kneeled down, his hands reaching towards you. You tried to move away, a shriek beginning to fall from your lips.

One of Peter's ringed hands quickly clamped over your mouth, his body pinning yours to the ground.

This was it. He'd seen you disobey him and now he would put you in your place.

"Look, I know it's hard to believe, but you're safer with me. I just made sure those lowlifes you call 'family' don't ever bother you again. Running away is probably the dumbest choice you could make right now." Peter's voice was firm and gruff, sending shudders throughout your body.

You could only stare back at him, the events of today finally catching up to your mental state.

That was when his eyes softened. He removed his hand from your mouth, his long fingers gently stroking the sides of your face.

"You're safe here. Let me help you," He whispered.

His eyes looked gentle, never leaving you as he pushed himself off of your body, extending out a hand.

Shaking, you raised yours, taking it.

You didn't trust him.

But Peter Parker was right. As for now, he was your only option.

Which is how you found yourself in his library. A first aid kit adorned the marble coffee table as Peter was on his knees, inspecting your injuries.

"It's minor," you said softly, watching him apply an antibiotic cream to a burn on your arm.

"This isn't minor," He responded, shaking his head.

"I've had worse," you said, shrugging.

It wasn't until he looked up at you with a frown on his face and those soft eyes that you realized the weight behind your words.

You didn't need his pity. You had done just fine without it.

"Why did you pick me? As your wife?" You then asked, wanting to distract him and yourself from your previous words.

A small smile crept on his face, like he had heard an inside joke, "You're smart, pretty clever, and nice. Not to mention beautiful."

You crossed your arms, "You got all of that from a five minute meeting?"

Peter shook his head as he put away the first aid kit, "I knew that before we met. I know a lot more than you think, lamb."

How dare he make assumptions and act like he was your savior in all of this? He was just as much as responsible for you being in this situation as your parents. And to practically admit he had seen you before? Was that supposed to make you feel better?

You were about to question him when you were interrupted.

"Daddy?" A small voice called out.

You looked up to the doorway. Standing there, was a small child who couldn't have been older than three. She had curly dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that were still full of sleep. Clad in a long nightgown while holding onto a stuffed elephant, she looked out of place in the elegant library.

Peter gave you a knowing look before getting up to walk over to the small child.

"What'cha doing up lovebug? Was it too loud?" He asked softly, kneeling down.

She nodded her head, still rubbing her eyes with one hand while the other clutched her stuffed animal.

"I'm sorry bug. Those men who were being loud are gone now and they won't come back," He said as he picked her up, a large hand rubbing her back.

It wasn't the fact that Peter Parker had a child that was shocking.

"Sophie?" Her eyes looked up at the sound of her name, meeting yours.

It was the fact that you knew her.

The little girl who you had been made to watch when you and your mother visited Betty Brandt. Betty wanted the little girl out of her hair, your mom wanted you out of sight.

So you two spent time together, reading stories and exploring the gardens. The small child had taken to you.

The last words she said to you from several days ago rang in your head.

"Daddy says I'm going to get a new mommy soon!" Sophie explained.

You smiled at her news. Her father was involved in the business, though no one ever seem to know his name.

"That's wonderful Sophie! I bet she's so excited to be your new Mommy!" Secretly, you were praying that would be the case. The last thing this sweet girl needed was someone who wouldn't even try to love her.

"I saw a star last night and made a wish on who I want to be my new Mommy! But I can't tell ya 'cause it won't come true if I do!"

You had just laughed at her words and went back to tending to the garden.

The call of your name pulled you out of the haze surrounding your thoughts. Somehow, Sophie had gotten out of Peter's arms and was crawling up the couch, into your lap.

"My wish came true! You're my new Mama!"

Your stomach lurched, your hands shaking. And yet, when you looked down to see that big smile on her face and saw how the corners of her eyes crinkled, you couldn't find it in your heart to show any disdain.

So instead, you gave her a small smile as you pushed a curl out of her face, "Your wish came true."

"Sophie, you wanna show Mama your bedroom? We can read you a story," Peter suggested. You looked up, your eyes meeting his.

A small smile adorned his face. He had caught you. Was this his plan all along? To trap you?

It was easy to assume the worst in Peter Parker, given all the stories you heard.

But you also heard the stories Sophie told you about her 'Daddy'. The one who read her a story every night, who played cowboys and tea parties with her. Who made the best spaghetti "in the whole wide world!"

The way he kneeled down to soothe Sophie when she first walked in matched up with those stories.

Could you be safe here?

"C'mon Mama!" Sophie tugged on your hand. You smiled, standing up and letting her show you the way.

A large hand placed itself on the small of your back. You turned your head to find that Peter was now walking beside you.

"After she shows you her bedroom, I can show you yours," He said softly.

"Mine?" Your brows knitted in confusion. Surely he meant his bedroom.

He nodded his head, "Figured you'd want your own."

You stopped, only able to stare at him. Peter offered a gentle smile in return as the hand on your back applied a slight amount of pressure, reminding you to keep walking.

All your life you felt like you were on edge, always ready for the worse to happen.

That feeling hadn't gone away, but for right now, it was dull.

You were still determined to figure out Peter Parker. The man was going to be your husband after all.

And despite his methods, despite all the stories you heard, it was possible that he did care about you.

#mob!peter parker #tasm fanfiction #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #tasm peter x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker fanfic

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adrixivy · 3 months ago

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Headcanon that Peter is the reason if missions go well or not and it all depends if he opened his mouth or not. I’m simply saying that he would somehow run his mouth and villains are on his ass immediately and not because of his parker luck. That does worse things. Peter always gotta say something or he just happened to somehow cause more chaos than it already did when he says something and he doesn’t even mean to say it. And the team either enjoys it or are in a manic state of panic.

The Avengers are on a mission to infiltrate one of the last remaining Hydra bases. And they need to be undercover for this. Like really stealthy and quiet. They want to gather information about the last few bases and what other information are left in Hydra that wasn’t already leaked. So imagine how surprised Tony and Steve is to be walking and then simply watch a body fly past them as said flying body screams. Tony looked over and groans and Steve sighs deeply.

Peter, who was stopped by a giant that didn’t recognize him and asked if he was new in Russian and tried speaking the little Russian Nat taught him and said something entirely different: You’re built like one of those ugly giants in that one show- (he tried to compliment the guy’s huge build to distract him but it was backfired)

Said giant growls and smacked him, making him fly back and hit a wall ten feet away with a groan. And the whole mission is already compromised within 15 minutes. 15!

The two adults rushed to him and helped him up and already three of the Avengers are compromised and soon the Hulk is out smashing through goons, Thor landed right outside the base without a care about stealth and is hitting people with his hammer and thunder crackles in the snowy habitat, making alarms sound off and the whole Avengers are simply compromised.

Peter and Tony is suited up in their nano-tech suit whereas Steve took out his shield that was shrunk and enlarged it with some Pym particles that was gifted to them from Scott. The team was quickly surrounded by all the men in the base and Peter smiled sheepishly at Tony who rolled his eyes. Armed men are charging at them with war cries yet Peter can't help but not stay quiet as his pop culture references came out.

Peter fighting the giant that flung him earlier: Hey big guy, what you did was not nice! I'm not some Roblox ragdoll for you to throw around!

Peter after webbing up the giant and fighting alongside Tony and Steve: Don't you think we're like the four horseman in Now You See me 2? Just that we're seven people! We get compromised but in the end, the odds are in our favor!

Tony, having seen the movie with Peter before and understood the references, couldn't help but grin: I guess kid.

Steve, incredibly confused: The four what now??

Soon, the base was taken over and Natasha and Clint managed to get their objectives and they all return home. And it's an incredibly hilarious experience to them now.

Now imagine, it being entirely opposite. They're in a open battle, full on repulsors shooting beams everywhere, Steve's shield thrown around and knocking out enemies, punches and kicks thrown, arrows flying, thunder cracks loudly in the sky as a hammer flies through mobs. It all seems quite loud to anyone else but the Avengers find it quiet. Too quiet. Like something or someone is missing. And they don't even realise in the midst of it. And the mission even ends well. And Rhodey is here too and he's always the first to realise and Tony's second.

Bruce who oversaw everything that happened in the mission: Today went well!

Steve, genuinely surprised too: Yeah. Surprisingly.

Rhodey, realising something is missing: Surprisingly quiet, you mean. Now I just realised, the whole battle was quiet. Tones, you thinking what I'm thinking.

Tony, hand placed up to stop everyone from talking as if hearing for something and his hand immediately dropped and his eyes are widened in terror when he doesn't hear what he was searching for: Where's the kid.

And the whole Avengers are panicking, everyone immediately dispersed and they're all looking for him.

Imagine Tony's relief when he saw Peter playing with puppies on top of a roof. (Peter saved three puppies and was about to leave them on the roof away from danger and leap back into the battle but the puppies cried out for him and he immediately melted and stayed there the entire time, playing with them as the sounds of destruction did nothing to pull him out of the puppies grasp)

Needless to say, the Avengers returned with three puppies that day.

Inspired by a post from irondadapiderson4ever!

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backtothefanfiction · 1 year ago

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The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 3: There's No Place Like Home

Summary: Unsure where else to go, Peter takes Angel back to the only other home he's ever known.

Warnings: 18+ Only, mature content, eventual smut, plenty of feels and patching up wounds

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: SURPRISE! Okay so I have been writing up a storm and realised if I only release these once a week it’ll be months between me finishing the story and you guys getting to read it, so I am gonna do drops on Wednesdays as well as the originally planned Fridays. (Also I’m an Aries who likes to be praised and whenever you guys give me good feedback it’s like a drug and I want more). For those asking at the end of part 2 where was Miguel, Miguel had already gone home, theres about half hour to 40 min time difference to Peter telling him to go home and shoot up happening. Anyway that being said, there’s nothing like going home to lick your wounds. Enjoy…

THREE

When they pulled up outside a high rise in the city 30 minutes later, the adrenaline that had been coursing through her body was finally wearing off. The dull pain in her shoulder was coming back full force; and as she sat waiting in the passenger seat, her hand bracing the injured shoulder protectively, she closed her eyes and counted her breaths and tried to work out where it had all gone wrong.

Her husband, still sitting in the driver's seat also taking his time to process the events that had just happened, lowered his head to the steering wheel. She could feel his anger brewing, that scary calm energy he was known for rolling off of him in waves. He suddenly sat back, his head slamming back against the headrest as his hand gripped the steering wheel forcefully, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him. His hands quickly flew into his hair, he was coming apart at the seams. She wondered if for a moment he had forgotten she was there.

She was about to say something when he was suddenly getting out of the car, slamming the door closed behind him. She watched out the front window as his hand tugged at his hair again before he ran it down the length of his face in an attempt to compose himself as he began to make his way to the passenger door.

The door opened with a low click as he held it open for her. She quickly unbuckled herself before sliding out of the car. She watched carefully as he stood like a sentry beside her, the only thing indicating to him being a living human, the heavy rise and fall of his breaths, the air chuffing powerfully from his nose as he attempted to calm himself down. She raised her hand again to her shoulder as she stepped forward onto the sidewalk as he closed the door behind them.

She watched over her shoulder silently as he ushered her forward with his hand splayed protectively across her back, keys clutched in his fingers as he guided her to the front door.

Neither of them said anything until they got to the elevator, the large metal doors sliding closed, encasing only the two of them safely inside.

“Does it hurt?” he finally said, his body turning towards her as his hands reached out to manoeuvre her gently, turning her to face him.

She wanted to respond with something sarcastic, but looking up into his eyes, she couldn’t seem to find her voice. His thumb suddenly added a little bit of pressure below the wound as he checked it over and she sneered, recoiling from him protectively.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” he quickly said, holding his hands up in surrender. He watched her closely, waiting for her breathing to steady again, her body leaning back towards him, trusting him. “It might need a couple stitches.” he said as he moved the damaged fabric of her top to look at it better. She grunted again as the pressure of his fingers made the wound smart once more, but she didn’t pull away.

They felt the elevator begin to slow beneath their feet, coming to a stop and pausing before the bell went off, signalling its arrival.

He gently ushered her down the hall but she already knew where they were and which door to go to. She paused outside the door as she watched him reach behind the frame of one of the pictures on the wall. She shuffled herself to the side as she let him squeeze past her to put the key he had retrieved into the lock, turning and pushing the door open, ushering her in first with an outstretched hand as he moved to put the key back in its hiding place.

“Peter?” a voice called out through the apartment.

“Yeah, May.” he called out as they both stepped through the door.

Peter’s Aunt May tentatively came into view at the end of the hallway at the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor before they hit the hallway runner. She froze in silence as she took in the image of not just Peter, but Angel. The sudden change in May’s demeanour from warm and friendly to cold and protective made the younger woman still in the middle of the hall.

“Don’t May.” Peter warned her as he gently stepped around his frozen estranged wife, moving forward down the hall, a protective arm being placed around his Aunt’s shoulder as he turned her away and towards the living room, trying to explain everything before she made any assumptions.

Angel slowly began to follow them, coming to a stop in the doorway, her hand still raised to cover her shoulder. She stood awkwardly against the doorframe, careful not to bleed on anything as she watched Peter sit May down on the sofa, the tall brunette taking a perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, his hands gently resting on her knees.

“It’s a really long and complicated story-”

“But for how long, Peter?” May tried to argue in a hushed voice.

“I know, I know.” he quickly cut her off. “Look I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but we can’t go back to the house and I didn’t know where else to go.” He attempted to explain as Angel began glancing around the apartment. Her eyes fell on picture frames, throw pillows, the layout of the kitchen to her right, nothing had changed in this place at all. She slowly found herself stepping forward to a bookcase, observing the pictures that sat on the edges of some of the shelves. Okay, maybe some things had changed, she noted as she noticed the frame that used to hold her and Peter’s wedding photo had been removed, replaced with an old picture of Peter with his Uncle Ben from when he was a child. As she began to look behind it, she noticed another frame laying face down on top of the books. Her fingers reached for it. She carefully pulled it out, looking at the memory fondly. They hadn’t had a big wedding, after all she was trying to hide their union from her Dad. She gazed longingly at the picture of her and Peter outside the courthouse. They’d asked a passerby to quickly take the picture on an old digital camera May had brought with her. You could just see the corner of her shoulder in the foreground as she threw confetti at the happy couple.

Her eyes stung as tears prickled the corners of her lashes and she quickly put the photo back.

“I’m gonna go find a first aid kit.” She suddenly announced across the room to Peter, still mid conversation with May.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned his head to say to her before she removed herself from the room, heading down the hallway to where she knew the bathroom was.

She closed the door behind her, looking at herself in the harsh fluorescent lighting. She wiped away at the lingering tear at the corner of her eye hastily before her gaze dropped down to her shoulder in her mirrored reflection. She winced as she examined it in the mirror, turning her body towards the light. She sighed, her hands bracing themselves upon the basin as she closed her eyes and attempted to compose herself.

She kept one hand against the cold porcelain as her other hand reached to slip off her heels, her height dipping in the mirror as she dropped one foot and then the other onto the worn bath mat. She ran her hands over her face, pushing her hair back as she took one more tired look in the mirror before bending down to root in the under sink cupboard for the first aid box she knew was kept there.

She balanced it on the side of the sink, her fingers opening the zip and flipping the lid open. She sighed, rooting around in the kit, searching for the bits she would need and placing them on the top for easy access. She winced in pain as she slowly pried off her shirt, carefully slipping it off of her injured arm, the blood already beginning to dry sticking to her skin and she cringed and sneered as the fabric tore itself from her flesh. She reached into a drawer for a fresh washcloth, turning on the tap and running it under the faucet. She was just bringing it to her skin, wiping away at the drying blood when the door opened, Peter letting himself in.

He froze at the sight of her standing in the middle of the bathroom in her high waisted trousers and black lace bra. When she just stood staring at his reflection in the mirror he quickly checked himself, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the blood that was beginning to rush between his legs.

“Here let me do that.” He said, stepping forward and taking the damp washcloth from her.

She sat herself on the side of the bathtub as he rinsed the blood that was already on the cloth off, ringing it out.

“I don’t think May likes me much anymore.” she spoke timidly as Peter turned towards her and began dabbing at her skin. She hissed as he shifted his hand and dabbed higher, closer to the wound and he quickly took his hand away, fingers frozen in midair.

“Sorry,” he murmured. She quickly settled again and he moved the wash cloth over her skin even gentler. “She’s just protective of me, that’s all. Still sees me as that little boy scraping his knees and elbows everytime I fell off my skateboard. Cutting the crusts off my sandwiches…” his voice trailed off softly.

“MMM” she groaned again between closed lips as his fingers began to dab at the broken skin, her head turning away from him, eyes closing to suppress the tears that threatened them.

“I know, I know.” He tried to soothe her. “Yeah, it’s definitely gonna need some stitches.” He says assessing the wound closer.

He stood up from where he had been crouching beside her, hands dexterously retrieving the bits he would need from the kit and placing them on the side of the sink closest to them. He then washed his hands, carefully drying them on the towel beside him. They were both silent as his fingers opened the suture packet, pulling out the fresh needle and threading it. She watched his hands attentively, willing herself to stay calm despite the impending pain she knew she’d have to endure.

“You’re not gonna like this.” He said as he crouched down beside her, tearing open a packet of alcohol wipes. He swiped a wipe carefully over her shoulder. She instantly screwed up her face sneering at the sting, her head turning away from him again as she forcefully gripped the edge of the bathtub, knuckles turning white.

“Fuck. Peter.” she hissed between her teeth.

“I know, you’re doing so well baby.” The pet name falls from his lips so naturally to try and soothe the sting they both feel. His chest aches to see her in pain, he wishes he could just kiss it and make it better, but he knew he was doing the next best thing.

“Ow, OUCH!” she called out, her voice echoing off the bathroom tiles as she flinched away from him. He released her arm from his grasp, allowing her a respite before the next step. His hands rested on her thighs, palms rubbing back and forth soothingly as she began to settle again.

“Uhh, does it really need stitches.” her voice was a broken whine as her head turned to look at him again.

“I’m sorry.” he said as he gave her a look that told her it was unavoidable.

Her head tilted up to the ceiling as she shook her head, psyching herself up. She took a deep breath before looking back at him. “Okay.” she nodded as she closed her eyes again, continuing to psych herself up. “Just do it.” she huffed.

He paused a moment, his hands still on her thighs as he allowed her another moment to make sure she was ready. He slowly took his hands away from her, reaching for the suture, sat waiting ready. He watched her closely as she kept her eyes closed, not wanting to look, knowing she’d lose her resolve.

“I’m gonna try to be as quick as I can, I promise.”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed and agreed as she braced herself, his hand wrapping around her arm again.

The little noises she made as he used the curved needle to pierce her skin were unavoidable. “We’re almost there. You’re doing so good.” he cooed as she tried not to squirm under his touch. “Okay, one more, just one more baby.” he said as he passed the needle through her skin one last time, the fingers on his other hand reaching for the small pair of scissors to cut the surgical thread.

He took his hands away from her but she still didn’t open her eyes for another minute, allowing her breathing to steady as he began to clear things away. She finally opened her eyes as she felt his shadow loom over her. She looked to his hands to find him ripping open a large square shaped band aid. He carefully peeled off the backing before leaning over her and covering the area of her shoulder he’d just stitched up.

“Thank you.” she said quietly as he smoothed down the edges, his fingers brushing gently across her skin, leaving behind a tingling sensation in their wake.

They were so close. If she turned her head just a little they would kiss. For a moment he hesitated and she thought they would, but then he quickly stepped back and away from her.

“I’ll see if I can find you something to change into.” he said as he quickly turned his back on her and left the room.

She threw back her head to stare at the ceiling again as a new wave of tears threatened to spill over her bottom lashes. Her hands flew up to her face, hiding her eyes as she breathed deeply, willing her emotions away. She knew the day she’d eventually be able to go back to him would be hard, but she had never expected this. Everytime she looked at his face, she couldn’t see past the hurt in his eyes. She figured she’d be grateful he hadn’t moved on and found someone new to replace her with. Hadn’t walked back into that house and seen him lying in bed with another woman, but she knew that wasn’t her Peter. Then again, the pain her leaving had caused him, was he still her Peter. A lot can change in three years. Heck she’d changed in those three years.

She slowly stood up, wiping away her tears. Her hands reached to turn on the tap, allowing the cool water to soothe her skin, she splashed her face, wiping away the sweat and the grime and the few flecks of dried blood. She stared at herself in the mirror trying to recognise the woman she saw there as the same woman who had stood here all those years ago, but she couldn’t.

She turned off the tap, dabbing at her face with the towel as she heard three taps on the door. Peter slowly opened the door, his hand reaching out in front of him towards her, a pair of grey jogging bottoms and a white t-shirt folded neatly on top of his hand. She recognised the sweats as an old pair of his he had left here since he was a teen, the same pair she used to borrow when she stayed over. The t-shirt she was surprised to see was an old one of her own. An old Rolling Stones t-shirt she thought was long lost.

“Thank you.” she said as she gently took them from him.

“Umm, I’m gonna sleep on the sofa, you can take my old bedroom,” he said. His eyes struggled to meet her. It all felt so familiar, yet also so foreign. She wanted to say something but she didn’t know what. She just stared at him and he gave a quiet nod of his head before he closed the door again.

She crept into the spare room, her hands immediately dumping her clothes onto the empty chair just inside the door, before she closed it. He’d left the bedside lamp on for her, the faint glow adding warmth to the room. She couldn’t help but creep across the floor, her eyes searching the old familiar walls full of photos, old drawings, newspaper clippings. Her fingertips dragged across one of the old wooden shelves, taking in old school trophies, physics books, a picture of Peter and May at his graduation. The room was like a time capsule. She came to a stop in front of the end of the bed, staring at the sheets, undisturbed, lonely. It didn’t feel right, sleeping in this bed without him.

Before she could stop herself her hand was already on the door handle, ready to throw it open and creep down the hall, begging him to come to bed. But she froze. All that time, that space between them, as she stood there and felt it, it began to consume her. Instead she let her fingers drop to her sides, her feet begrudgingly walking around the side of the bed. She slowly climbed in under the covers. She stared at the door, one last time, willing him to come to her instead, but he didn’t. Tentatively she reached over, her fingers turning off the light, plunging her into darkness.

————————————————

As stated at the top new chapters will drop on Wednesdays and Fridays! If you want to be added to the tag list please put that in writing for me. Oh and if you are enjoying what you’re reading tip me like you would your waiter at a restaurant and reblog and leave me comments and feedback, it honestly fuels me up to keep writing and sharing.

@scmdsblog @angiexsv @thef1nalgirl @did-someone-change-my-name @sincericida @tarzinnia @liz-allyn @blacksoul09 @humxncrxvings @sunnycolors @suicide-sweetheart636 @ahryi @ms-wild-card-56

(Initial tags came from interest from the teaser and prologue. If you liked the prologue or teaser post but haven't been tagged, it's because for some reason I could't, maybe check your settings and be sure to hit the follow button so you don't miss out.)

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #mob!au #mob!peter parker #mob peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #andrew peter parker #the angel in the garden of evil #aunt may #mob spiderman

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victoria-rue · 5 months ago

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victoria-rue's Recommendation Masterlist part 4

I can't believe I've done this four times. I should probably link the other four lists, I just now thought of that. In every list there are at most 50 people tagged, just because I once read that was the limit. I have now learned otherwise; I won't be changing that up now, it feels like tradition. Also, every single story linked in all of my masterlists has at least 2 chapters. But now, the important part, the Authors. These authors deserve to have their stories spread, the same stories that linger long after the last page. Their creativity ignites imaginations and sparks conversations that bring us closer together. So even if barely anyone will see this, I hope the people who do enjoy their stories as much as I did ♥︎

Recommendation Masterlist part 1, part 2, part 3, & part 4

Marvel

Peter/Pietro Maximoff

Bitchin' by @taintandviolent

You always wear your silver rollerskates. But, when Peter Maximoff decides to check out the roller rink's arcade, and spots you... It's fate. At least, Peter thinks so.

Matthew Murdock

and then I met you by @souliebird

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

Bucky Barnes

Honey Girl By @violentdelightsandviolentends

The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Mermaid eyes by @lady-laree-world

Peter Parker

Basic Training by @cherienymphe

A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Starcrossed lovers by @frost-queen

Miguel O'hara

You & Peter were in love till he lost you. Pulled through a portal he did not expected to meet you again on a different earth. When the battle against Green Goblin in upon them has Peter a chance to forgive himself but at what cost?

Caught in the Cat’s Web by @jedijesi

Felicia Hardy, Black Cat, endures a nasty breakup with Peter Parker, and now with her new Spider-Powers, she must navigate the Spider society and her hot yet unbearable leader, Miguel O'Hara

(You're my) Antidote by @allysunny

Carrying Miguel's child was the best thing that happened to you. It meant he loved you and you two were on your way to start a family. But what you don't see, are the brightly coloured screens in his office that tell him you are slowly dying.

Puzzle Pieces by @exhaslo

A Second Chance by @naturesqueen23

After the loss of his daughter Miguel wants nothing to do with kids that is until he impulsively offers his pregnant neighbor a job at the Spider-Society.

EVERY YOU EVERY ME by @astroboots

You are falling from the 44th floor of the Chrysler building when you're saved by the unfriendly neighborhood Spider-man.

Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley

To Have & To Hold by @ofstarsandvibranium

To ensure you're always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don't necessarily hate Marc, but you don't get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

How To Train Your Dragon

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III

A Gift from the Gods by @pastel0rchid

Centuries ago, the gods granted your family a gift. But everyone else saw it as a curse. You are the last of your clan because others find your family’s gift as anything but. Your life has been filled with hiding in the woods, away from the Vikings who threaten your existence. The forest quickly became your safe space. Everything in your quiet life suddenly changes when you are spotted by a Viking and his Night Fury, who quickly notice something strange about you. You had wings… dragon wings.

Ultraman Rising

Kenji Sato

mommy’s here by @kiwiikato

Grocery girl by @harveyb-wabbit92

You were a delivery girl who was a frequently dispatched to famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....

Harry Potter

Remus Lupin

Secret Smokes by @writing-in-the-impala

When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting, and a rollercoaster of emotions.

James Potter

Enchanted by @pretty-little-mind33

Three weeks after his devastating break up with Lily, James wanted Remus and Sirius to bring him to a muggle bar in central London.

Harry Potter

The Malfoy sister by @mastermindmiko

Harry Potter hated only one person more than Draco Malfoy, and that person was y/n malfoy, her and that perfect smile.

Neville Longbottom

your girl by @hogwartseighthyear

neville’s roommates find you in his bed after your first time together.

George Weasley

The Daring, Forbidden and Evil by @futurewriter2000

Being the daughter of the famous Death Eaters really hasn't been one of your proudest features but you haven't let that stop you from being exactly who you are. Since your grandmother died, you had to move in with your mother's side of the family, moving to the Malfoy Manor and transferring to another school. It was all horrible all up until you met a certain somebody that made the expereince a bit more interesting.

Weasley twins

Vulnera Sanentur by @emeritusemeritus

The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Wanna Bewitch you in the moonlight by @emeritusemeritus

Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.

Descendents

Harry Hook

girl almighty by @httpwarmth

Cant stop this feeling by @descendantofthesparrow

it was just a normal night, a few days into the senior trip for the Auradon prep seniors, all the vks and aks were together on the royal cruise ship. but it suddenly takes a turn when Harry fucking Hook comes to your door late at night with a hard-on, and he can't get himself off without help, it hurts to even try; and for some odd reason, he couldn't help but be attracted to your room.... it's a damn good thing you ended up not having a roommate for this trip.

Avatar

Miles Quaritch

The enemy’s mate by @lovebeinaprincessworld

Your fathers enemy being your vitra muntxa seemed like Eywa was punishing you. But maybe it wasn’t that bad after all.

Infatuation by @nervousd

Recom! Miles Quaritch is tasked with a mission to reunite you with his predecessor in his grave

Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyo'itan

Unrequited by @randxmthxughts

y/n had been in love with tsu'tey since they were kids, watching him get his heart broken over and over, until he became hardened. on one particular night, she offers him intimacy with no expectations in return, which sparks up a complex relationship between them. y/n and tsu'tey struggle with guilt, unrequited love, and newfound intimacy, as they navigate the depths of their feelings for each other. can tsu'tey ever find it in his heart to love somebody else?

Ronal & Tonowari

tsamsiyu ta'em by @torukmaktoskxawng

Corporal Makayla Sully believed she was the last of her family. Her parents were long gone, her brother Tom was killed for his wallet, and his twin Jake abandoned her in exchange for the sunny paradise Pandora. Kayla is informed of Jake's passing and so she decides to take a job opportunity with General Frances Ardmore. She hitches a ride to Pandora with the intent of recovering her brother's remains, twenty years since the last time she's seen him. Instead of a box of bones or ash, however, she's given something she thought she lost a long time ago.

Similar by @ofaatuu

you meet the Tsahik and Olo'ekytan of the metkayina clan and have similar features. They found you interesting and watch you from afar.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

Secret Cove by @pandorafairy

Safe Haven by @thewalkingwillowtree

Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love.

Sully Family

Stxeli by @onskepa

Where Mo'at found the reader when she was a baby

neglected sully by @marymary-diva17

There was a family motto that Jake had taught all his children that sully stick together and that their family is a fortress. Well, that was not only true for the one sully child neglected all her life. She didn’t get the same love her siblings had and had always been seen as less than by her parents and clan, soon banished and disowned by her own family for an event that was out of her hands. The daughter will quickly start a new life, being seen and loved by others, but soon, the people from her past will return.

tame impala by @lvrcpid

you’re the oldest sully child. only born a year before neteyam. everything was sweet until your siblings came along. your parents slowly forgot you, soon your siblings did too. you were the forgotten sully. but what happens when you’re given another chance at life after your death.

Narcos

Javier Peña

Bones Full of Words by @wardenparker

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy. He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Hubby and Wife by @notjustjavierpena

A slice-of-life series of former DEA agent Javier F. Peña turned husband of his wife. This series serves the purpose of letting you into the intimate bits of how he falls for you to you giving him a beautiful family. Life with Javi is a fun, lighthearted, supportive, and sexy adventure ❤️

Javi & Steve

The Raid by @toxicanonymity

Two DEA agents find you on a drug raid and make some changes in your life, starting with getting you off drugs. They share you and have sexual tension with each other. Steve is not married. Reader is not physically described, but has some general background as a drug user who had a boyfriend.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

Enoch O’Connor

A Little Green by @pythonees

Idyllic by @intoanothermind

Is it possible to fall in love through stories? Well, it happened to me. I fell in love with the stories that my grandmother told me.

Hazbin Hotel

Lucifer

He Chose You by @trashogram

Hazbin Hotel AU where Lilith never existed, Lucifer has been lonely for over a millennia and Charlie will be born one way or another.

𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐄 by @yuitoru

you knew that you would always be second to her. no matter how hard you tried or whatever you did, he would continue loving her over everything else. the ring on his finger proved it. even after seven years of heartbreak and betrayal, he still wears the ring, the shiny metal practically taunting at you every single day. it served as a reminder to you about how irrelevant you really were in comparison to his first love - how he would choose her over you without even having to think about it. you were just there, a temporary distraction to his years of grief.

LUCIFER MAGNE by @champagnefountains

Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN by @lxkeee

Alastor

Deer dolly by @ohproserpine

"So what?" Angel Dust hummed, drumming his nails on the counter. "You and Alastor are like... friends?" "Oh, well, that ain't the word I would’ve used, but it's something like that!" Mimzy chirped, reaching for her drink and downing it in one go. "He used to frequent the club I had! In fact, that’s where he met his wife—" “Wife?!” Angel Dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “Freaky face is married?” “Oh yeah,” Mimzy hummed, waving her hand around. “Under all that murder and cannibalism, he’s a total sap! Can't blame him, I mean—his wife is a doll! Me an' her used to perform together!”

Alastor's Birdy by @rory-cakes

Royally Pissed by @selineram3421

Alastor with a y/n who's Charlie's sibling/Lucifer's child.

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birdsinmywalls · 2 years ago

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Mob Peter has my whole soul. This was amazing!

Also I love that he comforted her with the reminder that he grew up with nothing and that she will get used to spending large amounts of money. Where is this man?!! I would LOVE to get used to spending large amounts of money! Sign me up.

Drip(ping diamonds)

Summary: You spend an ungodly amount of money on a shopping trip. Peter is not impressed.

Pairing: mob!Peter x Reader (tasm!Peter)

Words: 2.6K, 18+ mature, smut.

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62,877.

You kept staring at the angry number in your calculator app, waiting for an explanation to pop up. Anything to save you from sweaty palms and uneven breathing.

Somehow, you made sixty-two thousand dollars disappear. You would've started sweating had just the last three digits of that number been the actual total, but no. This was so much worse.

How were you going to explain this? You hadn't really meant to do it. Truly, you hadn't. When Peter handed you his card, the first thing you remarked on was that it looked very different from any other credit card you'd ever seen. A strange, matte black little thing. It felt heavy in your hand.

Now, it was burning a hole in your pocket.

He'd been sweet. Apologetic. Sad that he couldn't celebrate Valentine's Day with you. He asked you to pick out something nice for yourself, as his present would arrive two days later, which was apparently unacceptable in his view.

And you really, really hadn't meant to make him sixty-two thousand dollars poorer.

But the sales assistant at Chopard knew something you hadn't. Well, you knew now. Peter had handed you not so much a card, as a status symbol. To those who were in the know, it screamed endless money. Power. Influence. To you, in your cluelessness, it painted a target - here, come sell me things I don't need. No, more. More.

The earrings and necklace set was very pretty. Of course it was. It came with a twenty-four thousand dollar price tag. It dripped with loose diamonds and complimented your eyes. That's what the woman said, at least.

You were having an out-of-body experience. Perhaps you had trouble understanding how so much money could exist within and spring forth from a small black rectangle. No, no. You knew how credit cards worked. You weren't that clueless. Or were you? Maybe you couldn't compute how sixty-two thousand dollars could be spent in just under one hour.

This would suit an elegant dress with a plunging neckline.

Nineteen thousand dollars for a long string of hexagon-shaped gold plates and yellow diamonds, interlocked like a honeycomb and lingering between your breasts when you'd tried it on. Also pretty.

You'd gone inside on a stupid whim, eyes twinkling at the sight of a small emerald pendant on a dainty gold necklace. You inquired about the price. Almost four grand. Apparently, it was of exceptional quality. A dark green gem. Indeed very pretty. That had been the first purchase.

A wave of nausea hit you, and before you knew it, you were dialing him. He said not to, unless it was an emergency. He was away on delicate business. Probably wouldn't pick up -

He answered on the third ring.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?"

I let myself get bullied into spending more money than I could ever dream of spending. Help me. What do I do? Do I go back and return this stuff? Will they arrest me if I do?

"You're scaring me. Please say something. I can hear you breathing."

"I... I... I'll pay you back. I swear. I don't know how, but, um. Uh - I just need to figure out which bank to rob, and I'm sure that'll feel much less terrible than what I just did, beca-"

You heard a sharp breath over the phone and braced for impact.

"You're safe?"

The two-word question snapped you back to reality for a moment. Fuck. You probably pulled him away from who knows what to complain about something stupid that you did and which was entirely your fault.

"Yes," was your quiet reply, breaths coming in softer. He released his own ragged one a moment later.

"You're sure?"

"Yes," you said again, guilt climbing up your spine and settling at the base of your throat.

"Then what's the matter? Why are you upset?" Peter asked gently, and you could almost see him rubbing the bridge of his nose. Always so patient, even when you were a needy mess. You could've sworn your lips were trembling. Some adult you were. Just own up to the mistake you made and face the consequences.

"I'm sorry. You trusted me to get something for myself and I... I should've just said no. Instead I ended up letting myself get sweet-talked into spending a median yearly salary on jewelry. It was wrong. I just... they weren't telling me prices and I knew it was expensive, just not how much. When they rang me up I just panicked and gave them the card. I thought it would decline, obviously. I was going to leave when it did. But it... didn't."

A lame explanation if you'd ever heard one, but it was the best you had.

A small silence awaited on Peter's end. It felt like a thorn's prick.

"And a median yearly salary is... what? You'll have to remind me, I'm not up to date with statistics."

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. His genuine confusion felt more like a trap in your frazzled state.

"Uh... well. I don't - listen. It's already burning my brain to think about it, so I don't know if I can actually say it. It's just. A lot of money."

Something that resembled a huff reached your very warm ears.

"Can you spell it out?"

"Peter..."

"I'm just letting you know that if it's a seven-digit sum, it's ok. I mean, I'd be genuinely impressed if you managed to pull that off in two hours at the mall, but what do I know?"

Whatever small alcove of your brain was still functioning checked out for lunch. How did he even know - oh, right. You forgot you had a bodyguard. He was very good at making himself scarce. And at providing updates to your fiancé, apparently.

"Is what?"

"Come on, it can't be eight. Did you buy a house for us? Do they even have realtors at the mall?"

"Eight what, Peter?"

Was he expecting that you'd spent north of 10 million dollars?

"Baby, if I'm right, and I think I am - Wait, hold on. I have the app on my phone."

Shuffling. Tapping. A quiet little snort, followed by a giggle. Then more laughter.

"You were gonna rob a bank to pay me back the absolutely exorbitant sum of sixty-thousand dollars?" he guffawed.

"Sixty-two..." you muttered helplessly.

"Sixty-two!"

Peter continued laughing at your expense. No pun intended.

"Jesus, I thought I said go shopping, not run errands."

"Sixty grand is not running errands, Peter," you admonished, upset. The balance of who deserved to be mad was slowly being upturned.

"Sixty-two," he teased with a shit-eating grin you could hear over the phone.

"I've never had that much money. Ever. I've never earned anywhere close to that. And it's just sitting in a couple of bags from a jewelry store," you explained, almost defeated and feeling more tired than you had any right to be.

"Is it pretty? Do you like it?"

"That isn't remotely the point."

"I think it is. And I thought that, when you agreed to marry me, you understood that we'd be sharing everything. So, saying that you've never had that much money is technically incorrect. You have a lot more than that."

Maybe you could sit and sulk in the corner of a rather overcrowded Starbucks, but what you would not do was cry of frustration. Was it even that? Or something else?

"You don't think I know what it's like to come from nothing? Spending fifty dollars on groceries used to eat away at me. Come on. I get why you feel weird right now, but I promise it goes away. You don't have to feel guilty about getting something nice for yourself."

Alright, so maybe you were going to cry. No biggie. Your tears could be used to bring down the ungodly sweetness of your shitty latte. You paid for that one with your own money. A drop in the ocean.

"Baby, promise me you'll be okay? I can't stay on the phone much longer, I'm sorry. But we're gonna talk about this when I get back, yeah?"

You would've begged him to linger and calm you down in the way only he knew how, but you were sure that if he could've stayed, he would have. He was probably already missing important things to have this conversation with you, which wouldn't have been necessary if you weren't a wimp. You had to toughen up if you were going to lead this kind of life.

With a shaky breath, you nodded your assurance, forgetting he couldn't see it.

"Words, baby."

You bit your lip on instinct at that warning, much more common in intimate settings than said over the phone. It gave you an idea.

"Yes, Peter."

"Good."

Your brain automatically completed that phrase without your input. Your spine straightened just slightly at the unspoken praise.

"I'll see you Wednesday, if everything goes well."

"If?" you asked, suddenly concerned.

"When," he corrected, pausing. "Cat's got 'em on their toes, but they'll comply."

Relief flooded you.

"She usually does, huh?"

"Yup. Not even sure why I'm here," he half-joked.

"Well, then... maybe you could make it back earlier..." you suggested, trying your best to mold your voice into what you hoped was seductive and not stupid.

"Yeah? Is there something else that needs my attention?"

It worked.

"Let's just say that... I got this very pretty necklace, but I don't have anything that goes with it. So I think I'll just wear it all on its own."

It wasn't easy to pretend you were a-okay with it, and you still cringed at yourself when remembering you were in a very public place, but it turned out to be worth it to hear his breath hitch over the phone.

"Why don't you get something to go with it? Strappy, if possible."

He wasn't asking. Not with that tone.

"Hmm. Lace, or silk?"

"Both. Everything. Nothing. Whatever you want, baby. Just be ready for me, yeah?" he breathed out.

You could mess with him just a little. Just to drive home the point of how much you missed him.

"Yes, sir."

And maybe to make him bend you over his knee when he came home.

"Fuck."

"I'll see you Wednesday," you said softly, uttering a quiet I love you and hanging up the phone for good measure.

Maybe you could return to the shops after working up the nerve and resolve to say no to whatever they'd try to sell you on next. You'd been meaning to pick out bridal lingerie for months, anyway. How expensive could it be? Surely nowhere near gold and diamonds.

Right?

Hours later, when you got home on sore feet, calculator app still open on your phone, the numbers had blended together into nonsense. You'd had a glass or two of bubbly alcohol, which apparently they served at these places when you had deep pockets. You'd done pretty well with saying no, despite your judgment being strategically impaired. Only bought what was necessary. Well, maybe ninety percent necessary.

You were admiring a champagne-colored silk and lace babydoll you'd pulled from a bag labeled I.D. Sarrieri when a knock at the bedroom door startled you into dropping it.

"Thought I said something strappy."

Oh. He was home. He was home almost two days early. You knew what that meant. Maybe you shouldn't have hung up on him.

Turning only slightly to face him, you decided to show more bravery and defiance than you had all day.

"Oh, I got that too. But since you're home already, I guess I can't surprise you with it. We'll have to do it some other time."

The look in his eyes was pure danger. Sin. The collar of his shirt was undoubtedly stained red. You could see it from across the room.

"Then you'll put on that pretty necklace for me. Only the necklace, like you said. And I'll see you in a minute."

His arms were crossed, bulking. Flexing, unflexing. His jaw was doing that thing that had your insides turning.

"But -"

"One minute, sweetheart. Don't make me wait. That's rude. Not unlike hanging up before I've gotten to say I love you back."

Quietly, you nodded your assent. He pouted mockingly.

"Words, baby," Peter said, soft as a whisper. Your heart started beating faster.

"Yes."

You were playing with fire.

"Careful, sweetheart," he warned, aware of your challenge.

"Yes, Peter."

A soft growl was building up in his chest. You could see it puffing up subtly.

"One minute."

He turned on his heel and left.

Your eyes fell on the royal blue shopping bag holding the necklace, wondering if you'd even have time to put it on. Wondering what he'd do if you simply sat there. But your entire body itched with the urge to listen to him, so you quickly shed your blouse and skirt, removing your watch and leaving only your engagement ring on.

With shaky hands, you attempted to clasp the row of dripping diamonds around your neck, the gems cool against your heated skin, when a soft kiss at your nape and steadying hands had you keening. The clasp was done up for you as a string of kisses decorated your shoulders and neck, hands then wandering to your navel and lingering for the briefest moment, before pulling you flush against the hardness poking at your lower back.

"Beautiful," he mumbled at your ear, sending a streak of pleasure along your spine.

He gave you no time to speak, or think, or breathe. That word was all he said before his fingers were splitting you open, gathering your wetness and teasing all along your slit with focused movements, one arm tightly around your middle and lips sucking a bruise at the juncture of your shoulder.

Little mewls escaped your lips at every brush of his fingers against your clit, realizing he fully intended to having you coming in the next minute. Relentless strokes in all the spots he knew by heart had you leaning against him, already dizzy at the thought of what he'd do to you all night.

"Real fuckin' pretty, baby," he breathed out against your skin, voice rough and low. "You know, I wasn't gonna let you come. Wanted you to feel exactly like I felt when I didn't get to say I love you on the phone. But now I'm thinking... I'll ruin you instead. If I don't get to say it, I'll just have to make you feel it."

The promise in his words pulled at you sharply, a brilliant stroke of his bulky fingers lighting you on fire and sending you tumbling into ecstasy. Desperate utterings of his name echoed around your head, and as you started to come down, you realized he wasn't stopping, instead prodding at your entrance with his index finger.

"Peter," you whimpered helplessly, head leaned back against his chest and arms coming up to grip at the one of his that remained tightly secured around your middle.

"Shh... be a good girl and take it for me."

You felt yourself nodding mindlessly, a sinful moan escaping at the feeling of his finger sliding inside you, immediately followed by another, stretching you deliciously and sending your body into a fever pitch. Your knees were doing the bare minimum of holding you up, his fingers at your side already leaving imprints into your skin. You were going to wear them for days. Wear him for days. He was going to ruin you, like he promised.

And you were going to try your best not to lose your mind before you told him about the sleek black toy you'd purchased as your gift to him. But, as his fingers prodded deeper and gently brushed against the plush spot inside you that left you boneless, maybe you could leave that for another time.

-fin -

A/N: another mob imagine because whatever's left of my self-control is in tatters. And, frankly... I don't care. This is the year of write whatever the hell you want.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker smut #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x y/n #mob!peter parker #mob au

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reidslovely · 1 year ago

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Love of Mine

Heeeey @hollandweather remember that request you sent me forever ago?? ii went with the mob!peter version ii hope you're good with that :)

Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: Lots of fighting and yelling, happyish ending, angsty. Let me know if I missed anything cause I'm sure I did.

Kind of a sequel but not really to this

Pretty please read and reblog!! thanks friend

Freshly painted black nails contrasted against the soft cream color of the armchair cushion as she dug her nails into the fabric. Standing in the dimly lit office waiting for him to notice her, she stood like a haunting figure in front of him, simply waiting for an acknowledgment.

“Peter.” Her words came out soft, yet stern. Swallowing the angry lump in her throat as his eyebrows raised, and his chest fell.

“Yes baby?”

He spoke simply, not even lifting his head to acknowledge her. He was engrossed in whatever he was looking at some paper with a mugshot attached. Ever since the shootout that killed him Peter had been different. He came back different. Angerier, more cruel. Never to her, just others. She hadn’t been sure what happened, maybe it had given him time to reflect. Time to be angry at the cards he was dealt in life.

“Do you not..?” She fumbled over her words in her upset.

“It feels like you don’t care about..us anymore Peter.” There was a sad honesty in her voice. She wished she had been making it up, that it was all in her head. Peter threw himself into his work the moment he got better. He’d leave several times for days on end; not a single call to let her know he was okay or when he’d be home. It was unlike him.

He furrowed his brows, looking at her finally. “Of course I care, baby.”

Again, there's the distance in his voice. It feels rehearsed, almost like he’d been practicing this delivery for the months he’s been back. There were times where he didn’t seem himself, he was quick to anger and quick to jump. He and Harry having nearly had several physical altercations since being back. Felicia having gone ghost on them after she and Peter had it out over an action plan. His wife was feeling his anger, and it was nesting in her. She could try to nurse him back to his mentality before, she could settle his arguments with friends and colleagues. However, she could only handle him neglecting her for so long.

“Do you know what today is?” She began to wander around the office. Their wedding picture is sitting snugly on the bookcase in a gold frame. Both are much younger in the photo having gotten married straight out of high school.

“October 19th..wh- Oh, oh baby.”

For a moment her Peter was there, the realization washed over the room. She knew he felt like an idiot rethinking the day. She’d made his favorite breakfast, they showered together, and she’d even gone shopping and excitedly showed him everything she had gotten. She was now dressed in a purple slip dress she’d bought today.

He forgot their anniversary.

Peter stood up from his desk rushing to her. She felt exposed under his touch, pulling her face away as he grabbed her jaw in his calloused hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry baby.”

“It’s whatever Peter.” She backed away, tears pooling in her eyes. “I just wanted to know that you still cared and…well, I got my answer.” Angrily she stormed out of his office, slamming the door shut behind her. A photo of them falling off his decor table in the show of aggression, the frame bursting into dozens tiny pieces.

Peter followed behind her, his feet slamming against the hardwood of the stairs. “I don’t care! Is that what you’re saying right now?”

“That's what I said.” She yells back trying to slam their bedroom door in his face. Peter grabbed it, pushing it open. He stared at her in shock, standing there with his arms at his side. His wife glaring back at him, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“You don’t care about me or us anymore. All you care about is killing those people who hurt you. All you care about is work, what’s being moved in and what's being taken out.” She started pointing a finger at him. “This is the last fucking straw Peter. I’m fucking tired. I can’t keep fixing the things you fuck up because you are so blinded by rage. You are so fucking selfish. You forgot my birthday, and our wedding anniversary. Harry doesn’t even want to see you any fucking more because you are not yourself. I want Peter back not whatever fucking stranger crawled into your body while you were dying. I want my husband because you are not him, he was a good husband.”

Both her and Peter stared at one another. She knew she shouldn’t have said it.

Her anger echoed in the room, she expected him to fight back. She wanted him to fight back, yell, scream, let her know that he in some way cared. Instead he turned and looked at himself in the mirror and then down at his socked feet.

“So me proving I care about you, about Harry. About anything other than myself would mean I’d stop taking down the people who hurt me. I’d stop going after Li or Fisk’s guys who got together and planned to kill not only me but everything I cared about including you?”

He stared at her like she had five heads. Not knowing how to respond she rubbed her hands down her face. He was putting words in her mouth.

“Cool, cool yeah. I’ll stop, fuck I’ll step down from being the head of this organization. We can totally live a normal life not constantly looking over our shoulders.``

“You’re being mean, you’re putting words in my fucking mouth.” She warns. Peter takes a deep breath shaking his head as he looks down, something he did to keep himself from crying.

“I went to that warehouse to protect all of you. Do you understand that? Because if I didn’t go to them, they were gonna come to us. Now, I am cleaning up a mess I made that has put you all at risk. I’m..” Peter’s hands shook at his side, before coming up to rub his face aggressively. He dropped down to the floor sitting his back against the wall.

“I’m sorry I’m a bad husband, I haven’t been a good husband since that night and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I left you here, I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry that I put you in any danger by coming back. But as a good husband and as a good friend or boss I have to kill them.” He whispered to her, as she joined him on the floor.

“You have every right to be mad at me. I’m mad at myself. And this isn’t me guilt tripping you, this is me telling you that you’re right I haven’t been a good husband and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I forgot your birthday and our anniversary and that I’ve been a total piece of shit.”

“I didn’t mean it. I just, I knew it would hurt your feelings and I wanted you to hurt like I did.”

Peter kissed her head, his hand cradling her cheek bringing her to his chest. She let out a soft sigh burying her head in his neck. “I just got caught up in keeping everyone safe that I forgot what I was protecting. I am so sorry for hurting you and doing anything that made you feel like I didn’t love you” He whispered in her hair, rubbing small circles on her back.

“I know. And I know I’ll forgive you for it, but can we start by at least having an anniversary night? It’s all I want, just you and me, no work or anything.”

“I’ll give you an anniversary week, how's that?” Peter bargains. “Make up for the missed birthday. We can go anywhere you want.”

“Anywhere?” She smiles up at her husband, who gives her a loving look before kissing her cheek.

“Anywhere.” He confirms holding her closer. “I love you.” He assures her, pulling her legs over his thigh rocking her.

“I love you too.”

#tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter parker #tasm andrew garfield #andrew garfield #tasm peter smut #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm peter imagines #tasm peter x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x y/n #peter parker x reader #mob peter parker x reader #mob!peter parker

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sincericida · 6 months ago

Note

hi! i love reading through your list of recs and i was wondering if you know any good mob!peter x reader fics? thank you!!

Hello dear! I have here some of my favorite "mob!peter x reader" from some of the best writers I’ve seen here on Tumblr:

"Sugar & Vice", and "this fic" by @liz-allyn

"The Angel In The Garden of Evil" fic, by @backtothefanfiction

"Love of Mine", "When My Time Comes", "Nothing Good Ever Happens…", and "That’s the Price: Honeymoon" by @reidslovely

"This fic", and "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" by @withahappyrefrain

"A lion-hearted girl", "Who is the lamb and who is the knife (part I)", "Who is the lamb and who is the knife (part II)" and by @p3mybeloved

"Wicked’s Kink Or Treat!" by @wicked-remarks

"Heir ||" by @maple-the-awesome

"Another Love" by @abibliophobiaa

In case of doubt, always has the peter parker fanfic tag that I keep here, in all fics I read here on the blog.

Always and always, thank you to all the writers on Tumblr. You guys are amazing and feed our imagination with your stories and your talents.

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gaysindistress · 2 years ago

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When Night Comes - two

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: cursing, douchebag Peter Parker, drug use (taking an edible), drinking

word count: 4.3k

one | masterlist

a/n: spoiler alert: there’s a surprise coming in the next part

tag list: @cakesandtom @vickie5446 @buckybarnessimpp @hidden-treasures21 @unaxv

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

The lowkey kickback she was promised is anything but that. Cars line the already crowded and narrow street while people mill around and stream out of the towering house. Music blasts throughout the house and onto the street, no doubt upsetting neighbors and warranting noise complaints; however the party goers and the homeowner don’t seem to care. Their uber pulls up to the address and practically dumps them and speeds off, probably wanting to avoid any kind of problem that the party might bring.

Jessica wraps her thin black cardigan around her body, “Let’s go inside. It’s too damn cold out here.”

Sunny rolls her eyes, following the girl up the steps, “I imagine wearing a bra for a shirt would be very cold.”

“Oh shut up. I look hot even if I am freezing to death.”

Her short brown skirt hikes as she climbs the stairs to the point that Sunny has to reach out and tug it down from behind. Her goal is to entice one man and one man only, however he has yet to be seen as they push past drunk and high people. A familiar blonde spots them as they make their way towards the kitchen.

“Jessica you came!” Yelena shouts over the loud music and people’s conversations, a smile plastered across her face, “And you brought a friend.”

“Yelena this is Sunny,” Jessica beams, pointing between the two women,” Sunny is this Yelena, the friend that’s throwing this party.”

Sunny extends out her hand to shake Yelena’s but she’s pulled into a tight hug with Yelena whispering in her ear, “Jessica’s situationship is here but he brought another girl just FYI.”

“Shit,” she pulls back and offers Jessica a fake smile who is staring off past them. Sunny follows her stare and spots the very thing she’d hoped to avoid until later; the man in question making out with another girl.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” she shrieks, marching towards them. Neither of them are fast enough to catch the angry brunette who practically rips the woman off of him.

“Seriously? You go on and on about loyalty and then you fucking show up with another girl? What the fuck are you on because you’re clearly not thinking right,” screaming at the couple, Jessica’s beyond pissed as she stares daggers at them.

“Jessica, oh hey I didn’t know you were going to be here,” the man tries to play off the situation, running a hand casually through his hair to hide the evidence.

“Bull fucking shit, I was the one who invited you and you have the audacity to show up with some other girl? Where do you get off?”

“Babe it’s not that serious, I swear,” the lies slip so easily through his teeth, “You know you’re the only girl for me.”

As he speaks, what looks like a fang flashes ever so slightly but disappears when he shifts his gaze to Yelena and Sunny behind her. He tries to grab her hands to calm her down but she’s quick to step back from him, “I might not be the smartest but I’m definitely not that fucking stupid that I’d actually believe anything you said. Get fucked Peter Parker.”

Yelena stifles a laugh with a cough and leans over to Sunny, “How much you wanna bet he’s going to follow her around all night?”

“I’ll do ya one better; she’s going to punch him.”

“Deal,” she shakes Sunny’s hand as Jessica storms over to them with a rather pissed off Peter in tow.

“Jessica just stop,” his demeanor has shifted to a much darker one, “You know that we aren’t exclusive so you can’t get mad if I date other people. You’re still my number one girl.”

“Oh I’m sorry I don’t think I remember having that conversation. That must have been another one of your girlfriends. Just leave me alone Peter. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

His hand darts out and grips her wrist harshly as a cloud of anger takes over his already inky eyes, “That’s enough. Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Hold up, take your hands off of her and take a step back Parker,” Yelena demands in a stern tone as she steps up to Jessica’s side, “She said she didn’t want anything to do with you so back off.”

“Stay out of this Yelena, this has nothing to do with you.”

“It does when you’re at my party, let her go or I’ll make you,” she warns.

“And what are you going to do?”

“It’s not her you should be worried about,” the honey voice calls over the noise and tenses every fiber in Sunny’s body. She doesn’t dare to turn around or even move to confirm if it’s him. The almost spicy smell of his leathery sandalwood cologne is enough to confirm that Bucky is coming up beside her.

“Let her go and you won’t lose your hand,” his voice is level and calm even though there is chaos descending around them. His brown leather jacket clad arm brushes against hers, sending shocks through her knit long sleeve dress.

Peter dramatically drops her wrist, making a scene of the action and his frustration as every disgruntled frat boy would. He mumbles something under his breath about how fucking ridiculous this all is but doesn’t dare repeat it when Bucky gives him a warning side eye. Jessica curls into Sunny’s side while Bucky and Yelena create a protective wall between her and Peter. When he’s satisfied with the distance between them, Bucky turns to look at them, “Jessica, right? Are you okay?”

She nods quickly, not really wanting to speak.

“It’s good to see you, Doll. How are you?” The sudden shift confuses the shit out of her.

“What are you doing here?”

Yelena takes her cue to leave and nods at Bucky as she takes Jessica from her arms, leading her away from the couple and to a calmer place. He laughs at Sunny’s question, “This is my house.”

“Excuse me?” “Well one of my houses. Yelena crashes here from time to time and uses it to throw parties when she’s in town,” He explains, blue eyes glistening in the LED lights as he stares down at her.

“And you’re okay with her trashing your house whenever she wants?” She asks while she stumbles forward from the force of someone accidentally shoving her from behind.

Bucky is quick to catch her, hands steadying her by her shoulders, “Easy there tiger. Can’t have you falling for me just yet.”

She scoffs lightly and shakes his hands off, “I was pushed.”

“By destiny into my arms.”

“No by a drunk asshole into another asshole.”

Once again he lets out another damn addicting laugh, slinging an arm over her shoulder and leads her away from the crowd. The weight of his arm is nice, comforting even as they weave their way through people to the backyard. Maybe it’s how amazing his cologne smells or how she can feel the cold of his body through the thin white t-shirt he’s wearing under his jacket. The edible she took before they left Jessica’s apartment definitely plays a part in how she leans into his embrace and doesn’t immediately pull away when they step out into the cold nighttime air.

“Do you have an answer?” The question pulls her away from her thoughts. Clearing her throat, she steps out from under his arm and wraps her own around her, mulling over what he asked her.

“Answer to what?”

“I asked if I could make it up to you with dinner after Scott was rude. You never gave me an answer.”

“Oh,” she looks down to her scoffed docs for a few moments before making eye contact with him, “No.”

“No?”

“Yeah, no I won’t go to dinner with you,” she revels in the way confusion eats away at his beautiful features.

“Fair enough. How about I pay for dinner for you and Jessica?” a soft smirk dismisses the confusion and she has to look away before heat flushes her face.

“No.”

“Catering for lunch one day?”

“No.”

“Coffee every morning for a month?” “Jesus no.”

“Flowers?” He tries one last time even though he knows she’s just going to shoot it down. The way she’s struggling under his gaze is worth more than any material thing to him; he’s getting under her skin in the most delicious way possible.

“Why do you have to make it up? Just leave it, that’s what other people do.”

“Well I’m not like other people. Manners aren’t dead and it’s only fair I reconcile with the beautiful woman who didn’t call the police on us when she should have.”

The view of her docs is no longer interesting and the city lights are too bright to see the stars so her only option is to look at him with that flirtatious smirk and smooth words. Her head body starts to feel weightless as the THC comes into full force and it’s a struggle to form sentences that aren’t littered with giggles, “You think I’m beautiful? Oh… shit that’s not what I meant to say. What I meant is just leave it alone. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

His superstar Adidas barely make any noise against the stone pavers as he slowly saunters towards her.

“I think you did mean that first part,” his right hand finds her chin and tilts it so she’s eye to eye with him, “And to answer your question, I do think you’re beautiful. You are, by far, the most stunning woman I have ever met and I would love the chance to get to know you better if you’d stop being so obstinate.”

Maybe it’s the THC or the tornado his touch has thrown her mind into but she swears she can’t feel any heat coming from him as he gently grips her chin.

“Maybe learn to take no for an answer,” her eyes flicker down to his lips briefly, “Besides it’s unprofessional.”

“We’re two consenting adults,” he leans even closer, his nose brushing against hers as he speaks, “It’s only unprofessional if you let it distract you.”

“Hey Sunny… Oh fuck,” Yelena shrinks back into the house when she spots the two of them wrapped up in their own bubble of sexual tension. Bucky chuckles with mild annoyance at being interrupted but steps back and gives her space to breathe again all the same.

Embarrassment fills Sunny’s body as she rubs her arms to regain control of her breathing again,“What’s up Yelena?”

“Uh Jess wants to leave. She’s a mess about the whole Peter thing.”

“Yeah, okay let her know we can leave. Can you have her call an uber?” she attempts to brush past Bucky but his arm pulls her into his side just like before.

“Don’t be silly, I’ll drive you guys home.”

“We can take an uber, it’s not a big deal.”

“Doll let me take care of you,” the not so subtle meaning freezes any protests and he smirks at her before heading back into the den of sweat and alcohol to find the damsel in distress. Sounds of sobbing and sniffing come from the kitchen, letting them know she’s been hiding out there.

“Oh Sunny,” she launches herself at Sunny, tears having ruined her makeup, “I feel so fucking stupid, oh my god.”

“Come on, let’s get you girls home,” Bucky mumms as he lets go of Sunny to pull her under his arm. Still being a gentleman, he offers his other arm to Sunny so she doesn’t get lost and she does take it even though she’ll try to deny it later on. He won’t let her live down how tightly she’s gripping his arm or how she follows after him like a puppy as they zigzag their way to the front door. Yelena isn’t in tow, saying something about having to make sure the party doesn’t end up a complete failure and slipping her number into Sunny’s hand. The action goes unnoticed by Bucky as he’s too focused on Jessica and keeping her shielded from other party goers.

Slowly climbing down the stairs, he digs into his jean pocket to find his keys. A blacked out Mercedes AMG G63 a little ways down the crowded street lights up when he pushes the fob. A part of her is impressed with his choice in car but the other part is more concerned about why he would leave such a nice car out in the open where it could easily get broken into or stolen. Then again with what she knows about him and his work, he has more than enough money to replace it if anything were to happen to it.

Jessica immediately clamors into the front seat, leaving Sunny to navigate her own way into the backseat. He opens the door for both women but abandons Jessica to gently lift Sunny into the vehicle. “I can do it myself,” she protests, trying to swat at his hands on her hips.

“I’m sure you could sober,” he teases her as he clips the seat belt over her and closes the door.

“Dick,” she mumbles under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What was that?” his blue eyes glitter with mischief in the rear view mirror as he pulls away from the curb.

“I said you’re a dick.”

“Be nice to him! He’s being such a gentleman and taking us home,” Jessica interjects, placing her hand on his arm in a very flirtatious way. Of course she decides now is the time to try her hand at flirting with the hottest man alive according to the teachers at their work.

Knowing exactly what she’s doing, he removes her hand and puts it back on her lap, “Sunny means no harm but I appreciate you standing up for me.”

The rejection doesn’t sit super well with Jessica, the hurt from earlier still lingering and she starts to complain about Peter all over again. She throws in unnecessarily details about the pictures she sent him, the sets she bought for him, and all of the things he wanted to try. At some point, Sunny completely dozes off and leaves Bucky to fend for himself as he grows increasingly more uncomfortable with the amount of information she’s rattling off.

She jolts awake when the car parks and she rubs at her eyes when she notices that they’re parked in the garage of Jessica’s apartment complex. Jessica is still rambling on about Peter as she had been for the last twenty minutes or so and she can tell by the bored look on Bucky’s face he mentally checked out at about the same time. He throws out the occasional hum and ‘yeah’ while he helps Sunny out of the car and into the elevator that leads up to the apartments.

She’s still complaining about how Peter could never make her finish while she unlocks her apartment door and lets him set Sunny down on the couch. She waltzes off to her room, leaving a very high Sunny smiling like an idiot at Bucky.

“Where’s your phone?” he asks, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Sunny hands him her purse, mumbling incoherently about how it’s inside.

Shaking his head at her state, he digs out her phone and has her unlock it. She tries to watch him through her lashes to see what he’s doing.

“I put my number in so if you need anything, call me,” he answers her unasked question and hands her back her phone, “I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay Doll?”

She blankly stares at him, not quite catching onto the fact that he asked her a question. Albeit delayed, she nods in understanding, earning herself a reward in the form of his laughter and a feather light kiss to her hairline.

“I’m leaving Jessica. Lock your doors please,” he yells to the other woman and winks at Sunny before closing the door behind himself.

“Girl please tell me that you’re going to lock that man down. He’s so into you, it’s so obvious.”

“What?” Sunny drops her head back against the couch to lazily look at Jessica.

“Are you serious? He wanted nothing to do with me and I was flirting hard. He only has eyes for you.”

“No, no, no,” she waves hand to dismiss the imaginary image of them together, “He’s just a flirt, he acts like that with everyone.”

Jessica locks her door as he had asked and spins to face her very clearly out of it friend, “Sunny, be so fucking for real right now. I bet if you called him right now, he would be knocking on the door in seconds.”

“Yeah because he’s still in the building. Jess I really don’t want to debate whether or not he’s into me. I’d rather go to sleep and argue with you tomorrow.”

“Fine,” she raises her hands in defeat, “If you don’t call him or at least text him tomorrow to say thank you, I will steal your phone and do it for you.”

“Fine, whatever,” Sunny drags herself off of the couch and slowly walks to Jessica’s bedroom meanwhile the other woman is getting water for them to drink in the morning. They’ll no doubt have cotton mouth or a hangover or maybe both when they wake up. Sunny barely gets her boots off before sleep takes over and she passes out on the covers still fully clothed. Jessica chuckles to herself and gets ready for bed before trying her hardest to get Sunny under the covers.

“Night bitch.”

Sunday mornings with the girls consisted of waffles, fruit, and an endless supply of champagne or weed, it really depended on their mood. Given how shitty last night had been, it seemed like champagne would be the chosen remedy for Jessica’s broken heart and a joint would be the preventive medicine for Sunny’s ears. The sweet smell of sugar and syrup mixed with the earthy smell from her joint coated the air of Jessica's apartment, suffocating the smell of the burning waffles that she’d forgotten about during her endless rant about Peter.

“I seriously can’t believe that he would do that to me,” she sighed, staring absently at the kitchen floor with her drink in one hand and back to the smoking waffle iron.

Sunny gently pushed her aside by her hip to get the waffle out, “I mean….”

“I just need your ears, not your opinions,” she stops Sunny from saying anything that might upset her and continues, “I mean look at me; do I look stupid? Do I look like someone who just enjoys being fucked over? I’m getting really tired of his bullshit.”

Sunny just nods along, taking over the waffle station and filling the iron with batter. A plate full of waffles appears in front of Jessica and quickly snatches one off, taking small bites. After a few minutes of her not talking and the sounds of the iron dinging when the waffles are done, Sunny tries to speak again, “Are you done?” “Yes, obviously I’m done talking,” she sneers, chugging her half full cup and making another glass of champagne with a splash of orange juice.

“Well,” Sunny starts after taking a long drag from her joint, “he is the epitome of Chad, the worst frat boy archetype. You met him on Hinge so in the nicest possible way, what did you expect? At least with Tinder you know what you’re getting but with the other ones, it’s the damn Hunger Games and you offered yourself up as tribute pretty quickly with Peter.”

Even though she’s not looking, she can feel the daggers coming Jessica’s dark eyes but she doesn’t let up, “My advice; ghost him, block him, get so drunk you forget he exists, and find yourself someone new. He’s never going to be who you want and if you keep letting him back in, he’s going to keep treating you like a doormat and you, my goddess of a friend, deserve someone better.”

“Why can’t I just like girls like you? Men are so stupid,” she sighs more dramatically than humanly thought possible and drops her head onto Sunny’s shoulder.

“First off, that’s not how it works and second off, girls are just as bad as guys are.”

“Yeah but girls are so much prettier and they don’t stick their dicks in anything while walking.”

She chuckles, “Homegirl you clearly haven’t spent any real time around queer people. Douche bag transcends the social construct of gender. My last queer relationship ended because she tried to sleep with all of my friends while planning my proposal. Shitty people are going to do shitty things no matter what.”

“Touché,” Jessica lifts herself from Sunny’s shoulder, “Talking about your relationships, have you texted Mr. Sexy?”

Rolling her eyes, she unplugs the waffle iron and drops the batter bowl into the sink, joint still trapped between her fingers. Before she has to face the music of Jessica on a mission, she hops onto the counter and continues to smoke, “Nope.”

“Why not?” “I don’t want to?”

“I sense a question mark. You want to but your damned ego won’t let you,” Jessica declares, finger pointing at her in a very accusing manner.

“It’s not that,” Sunny leans back to snuff out her joint on an ashtray sitting on the counter behind her, “That’s not the only number I got last night.”

“Spill, right now.”

She vaguely gestures to the living room where her phone is at, “When I woke up, I had another number stuffed into my purse.”

Jessica stares at her with expecting eyes, “Who’s?” “Yelena.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! YELENA?” Jessica’s loud and very drunk voice bounces off the walls and bounces in their ears.

“Jesus quit screaming,” Sunny covers her ears and chides her friend. “You have to text her and Mr. Sexy.”

“What? No, I'm not doing that.”

“You kinda have to. You need to thank him and you need to flirt it up with Yelena. If you’re lucky, you might find yourself in both of their beds,” Jessica calls as she rushes to grab Sunny’s phone.

“Oh for the love of god,” she curses, sliding off the counter to catch her friend before she does anything stupid.

However she is too late; Jessica already has her phone unlocked and is rapidly typing away at the screen. There’s no use in trying to stop her, she’s surprisingly strong and fast when she’s drinking. On more than one occasion, Sunny has had to put an air tag on her or physically tie them together when they go out because Jessica will bolt the moment tequila touches her tongue.

“Hey there Stranger, thank you for being such a gentleman last night. Chivalry isn’t dead it seems,” the tipsy woman narrates as she types away Sunny’s soul to the devil.

“I don’t sound or text like that.”

“I know. You’re so boring and weird. You call people when they text you. That’s the move of a psychopath,” she pauses her betrayal to tease Sunny, “‘It's too bad I had to leave, we didn't have time to make out’ and send.”

“Oh my god,” Sunny laughs in half disbelief and annoyance. Of course Jessica would pick the most out of pocket shit to flirt with Yelena on her behalf.

“I’ll have my assistant send over my invoice when you and yelena go out,” she blows a fake kiss and plops down on the couch, Sunny not far behind.

“Can I have my phone back?”

“Hmmm let me think….. No I’ll be sending your texts for today, ya know to keep the balls rolling,” she retorts.

The phone in her hand vibrates awake, alerting them that someone has responded to Jessica’s devious messages.

“And we have our first answer,” she reads the message to herself before a wide grin stretches across her face, “To tell you or to not tell you, now that is the question.”

“For the love of god just tell me, what did they say?”

“It really is a shame we didn’t get to make out, dinner friday and we can try again?” Jessica reads out but her grin drops just as quickly as it appeared.

“What? What is that look for?” Sunny sits up from her slouched position on the couch.

Jessica laughs nervously, “Okay so don’t be mad. Be so chill about this.”

“What did you do?”

“I may or may not have accidentally switched the texts around.”

Hands slapping against her face, Sunny drags them down in disbelief as she falls back against the couch, “Please tell you’re fucking joking.”

Jessica smacks her lips and shrugs, “Well on the bright side, you now have a date with Bucky so there’s that.”

“Did you text back yes?”

“Obvi,” Jessica starts typing away again, completely ignoring the girl to her side who is going through an emotional crisis over this, “So now you’ll have two dates and a better chance at getting laid.”

The groan that leaves Sunny is unnatural, bordering the sounds that a demon would make but alas there is no demon and it’s just the deep anguish that she’s feeling reaching the surface. Her joint from earlier is doing little to ease her misery and the giggles that leave Jessica’s mouth are fuel to the fire. She has no idea what her friend is saying and whether or not it’s going to get her into trouble come Friday. Knowing Jessica, she’s flirting which only means that Sunny is going to have a lovely time the next time she sees Bucky.

“Could you not flirt with him? I really don’t want to keep it going when I go home.” “Oh my god get over yourself. I’m helping you here, you’re terrible at flirting.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles, reaching for the TV remote to turn on some stupid show to distract her. If she can’t control what Jessica is doing, she can at least control what show they’re watching.

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