#mobster sebastian stan

[sebastianstansqueen]

Lost in The Shadows Fifteen

A/N: This one is short, sorry, but two parts close together, hope you like it, If you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 945

Warnings:  Angst, maybe Guns, then obviously Brock, kid's, , If forgot anything let me know please!

Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Taglist open// 

Tags:@cherryblossomsky- @babylooneytoonz- @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond- @leyannrae- @avengerlex- @pineprincess - @nik2write - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel - @sebsgirl71479- @missvelvetsstuff- @hadesownhell - @casa-boiardi- @winterslove1917- @hallecarey1- @ash-craze - @barnesxstan - @unaxv - @bethexo07 - @itsmytimetoodream - @sebastians-love -@stoneyggirl2 - @ordelixx - @arunabrak - cjand10

Four Years Later

The war between Y/n and Brock had evaluated until, the two of them were the last standing, The Carter, and Rumlow names were the last that stood for the mob families. Brock began getting avantages, on killing each family head one by one. Most who had been friends with Y/n however and who still wanted to live decided to just hand it all to her and that was the same thing as what Thomas had to do for himself and his own family. 

She stared at her computer, flicking through some security footage by the doc as to watch out for Brock's shipment. The large office door began to open with a small whine, her eyes flicked up wards to see who was entering. A mop of brown hair walked through the office, making its way behind the desk, and crawled on to Y/n’s lap. “Hey, baby.” Y/n combed through her daughter's hair with her fingers lightly, her voice filled with exhaustion. “Where's your brother?” 

“Probably, sleep.” She mumbled out, Y/n hummed listening but still flicking through more cameras. “Whats you doing?” 

“Working baby, and then mama is going to sleep, which you should already be.” Y/n looked at her knowingly. 

“Can’ts sleep.” She shakes her head.

Y/n sighed. “Give mama a bit, and then we'll get hot chocolate, I promise Autumn.” The little girl nodded contently.

 Y/n stayed there with the little girl who had slowly fallen to sleep for hours. Nothing came up on the Camera, eventually she called off her guys. Eventually lightly waking up Autumn. “Hey sweetheart, you want hot chocolate now?” Though still tired she perked up, getting off Y/n’s lap and leading the way down to the kitchen. 

Aiden soon joined his mom and sister in the large kitchen, with a grumpy look on his face, his nose screwed up, he was Bucky’s perfect mini-me. “What got your face all screwed up?” Y/n laughed lightly.

“Mama and Autumn, too loud.” He complained. 

“I’m sorry little man, but mama, and Autumn kinda pulled an all nighter, and are about to go back to bed with some hot chocolate, you want some?” Aiden nodded along quickly. “And then Mr. Grumpy, we'll all go to bed for whatever is left of the night.”   

After taking both of her four year olds up stairs with her to her grand room, and finally being able to relax, her eyes shut. 

Four Years Earlier

Soon after getting back, Y/n called Natasha and Wanda for support through the rest of her Pregnancy, and soon after getting back she was again forced to step out as head and put on bed rest, because she found out she was having twins. 

When Y/n, Natasha and Wanda were having a movie night, watching the Princess Diaries was the Choice, soon after having Natasha and Wanda come to help, Y/n found out that Andy put them up to a mission of making her feel at least a little bit better after Bucky. So she tried to go along with it at least a little. While watching the movie just sitting in bed, her water broke. “Uh guy’s.”

_______

Y/n woke up to nothing. Autumn and Aiden weren't there, her brows furrowed. “Autumn Aiden?” She called out once she got to the staircase when she got no reply, that’s when she panicked, repeatedly calling their names and looking through every room in the house, until Natasha stopped her down a hallway. “Do you have to be so fast in this big of a house?” 

“First off it's a compound, and next is do you know where Autumn and Aiden are?” She asked as she tried not to panic.

 Natasha nodded, then led her to the kitchen. “Maybe don’t freak out so bad next time?” She offered. 

“Not funny.” Y/n shook her head. 

“I wasn’t laughing.” Natasha shook her head. “We got something.” Natasha went from Bartender to one of Y/n’s best assassins. 

“What?” She asked.

“I’ll show you after breakfast.” Natasha said before opening the door to the kitchen, where Wanda was making Pancakes, and the kits sat at the island. 

“Late shift?” Wanda smiles. 

“Late everything, and apparently my closest friends know more than me?” Y/n arched a brow as she leaned against the counter.

Natasha rolled her eyes slightly in seriousness but there was more of a light hatredness behind it than anything. “Can’t ever be patient can you Y/n? Even when the kids are around?” 

Y/n gave Natasha a stern look. “If my kids will do an overnight with me I can be impatient around them.” 

Natasha sighed, walking over to the small kitchen table in the corner by a window looking into the back yard, grabbing something out of her purse, before walking over and placing the folder on the counter in front of  Y/n, who opened it to skim the photos inside. “It seems that Brock has his own new assassin, he’s been on my radar for the last three years.” 

Y/n looked at Natasha with a glint of something resembling anger or betrayal. “Why didn’t I know about this?” She tilted her head. 

“Because, I didn’t want you freaking out about it, and besides, I didn’t know until now that he was even Brock’s.” Natash informed me. “I wanted to be sure before I brought it to your attention.” 

“I’ll look more into it after breakfast.” Y/n  sighed as she looked at the long haired man, but no one could make out who it was. The person's face was covered.

[lokidokieokie]

Betrayal in the Shadows

Summary: An undercover cop, Bucky Barnes, and a mob boss, Y/n, struggle with their intense connection as their worlds collide and ultimately shatter in the face of betrayal.

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Mobster!Reader

Warning(s): betrayal, angst, no happy ending, sad!bucky, sad!reader

Bucky Barnes had been working as an undercover cop for the past six months, infiltrating the inner circle of one of the most notorious mob bosses in the city. He had seen and done things that made his stomach churn, but he couldn't deny that he was drawn to the woman in charge. She was fierce, intelligent, and incredibly beautiful. They had an intense connection that kept pulling them together, despite the danger that lurked around every corner.

Y/n, the mob boss, had never felt such a strong attraction to anyone before. Bucky Barnes was a mystery to her, and she couldn't help but feel drawn to him. She trusted him with her life, and he had proven his loyalty time and time again. They spent long nights together, planning their next move, and their conversations often turned personal. They talked about their pasts, their dreams, and their fears. They knew each other better than anyone else, and yet there was always something unsaid between them.

One night, after a successful heist, they found themselves alone in the back of a dimly lit bar. The air was thick with tension, and they both knew what was about to happen.

"You know we shouldn't be doing this," Bucky said, his voice low and husky.

"I know," Y/n replied, her eyes locked on his.

"But I can't help myself," he admitted, moving closer to her.

"Neither can I," she whispered, before their lips met in a heated kiss. It was like nothing they had ever experienced before, and they both knew that it was just the beginning.

But their moment of bliss was short-lived. Suddenly, the door burst open, and a group of police officers stormed in, pointing their guns at them.

"Hands up where we can see them! You're all under arrest!" one of them yelled.

Bucky felt his heart drop as he realised that it was his squad. He had been so focused on you that he had forgotten that he was a cop, not a criminal. He was here to do a mission, not fall in love.

Y/n's expression changed from shock to heartbreak in a matter of seconds. She knew what this meant. She was going to prison, and her empire would crumble. She looked at Bucky with tears in her eyes, and he could see the pain and betrayal in her gaze.

"Bucky, how could you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"I'm sorry," he said, his own voice filled with regret. "I didn't want it to end this way."

"You betrayed me," she spat, pulling away from him. "I trusted you with everything, and now you've destroyed me."

"I know, and I'm sorry," he said, taking a step closer to her.

"Save it," she said, turning away from him. "You've done enough damage already."

As she was dragged away and placed in the back of a police car, Bucky watched her disappear into the night, feeling like he had lost a part of himself. He knew that what they had was special, and he had been foolish to think that they could keep it a secret forever. He had betrayed her trust, and he would have to live with that for the rest of his life.

Y/n, on the other hand, was consumed by a feeling of emptiness. She had built her entire life around her criminal empire, and now it was all gone. She had never thought that she would fall in love, especially not with a cop. She had trusted Bucky with everything, and now he had turned against her.

Their connection was shattered, and there was no going back. What could have been the best thing in their world was destroyed before it could even begin. There was no happy ending for them, only a bitter end.

A/N So, I've decided that I will now be writing for Bucky too :)

🏷 @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee 

lemme know if you'd like to be tagged in anything Bucky related

[holylulusworld]

Weak Spot

Summary: He has a weak spot for you.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Librarian!Reader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of his business, protective Bucky, established relationship

A/N: I love soft mafia Bucky. So, you will all suffer with me...

<< Part 1 - Soft Spot

“Bucky! What did you do?” You look at your boyfriend. Men came to his house, carrying heavy boxes inside the library next to his office.

His father used the room to impress his business partners with all the expensive books he bought over the years. However, Bucky turned the library into your second favorite place.

Your favorite place is right next to him.

“I bought a few more books,” he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I think we need to expand the library. Maybe we can break through a wall and use one of the spare guestrooms.”

“Bucky, it’s too much,” you say. Your eyes are glued to the books the men unpack. “Oh my god! Did you buy a whole library?”

You gasp as more men with more boxes walk past you and Bucky. “All for my girl,” he whispers in your ear. Bucky softly pecks your cheek as you stand next to him. Speechless.

Your heart wants to burst. Every gesture and every word tells you how much you mean to the man by your side.

“We should leave them to their job, doll. Let's look at the books later.”

A few hours later Bucky sits in the library, in one of the old armchairs you found in an antique shop. You are on his lap, snuggled into his chest as he reads you one of your favorite books.

“How was your day?" you softly ask. “Did Stark agree to the deal? He’s a stubborn man, isn’t he?”

“I know you’ll make a perfect queen,” Bucky wraps his arm a little tighter around your body. He sighs deeply, wishing his business wasn’t part of your life now. If only he could give up on business and run away with you.

“Do you sometimes wish I was someone else?” you ask. “You know, an insider. A woman who grew up in your world.”

“No!” Bucky drops the book as you look at him with teary eyes. “Where is this coming from, Y/N? You are the one for me. I don’t want anyone else.”

“I heard your men talk. They told you that I’m your weak spot and a liability. That I will get you killed one day,” you choke on your words. “I don’t want you to die because of me. I love you too much.”

“Doll, I won’t get killed,” he drops the book to wrap both arms around your trembling body. “No one will dare get between us. You are the only woman I want. No one compares to you. I love you more than anything in my life.”

You hide your face in his neck to inhale his cologne. Bucky always smells good. “I love the books and the library.”

“It’s the least I could do after you quit your job for me,” he replies softly. “Did you think about my offer?”

You giggle.

Bucky asked you to become his sexy kitten and offered belly rubs as payment last week. "Sir, I am considering your offer.”

“Hmm…good…that’s good.”

He gently runs his hand over your head, patting you. “I didn’t quit my job for you. I left because I couldn’t work with people harassing the man I love.”

Bucky doesn’t tell you this is the same thing. He smiles and enjoys having you in his arms. All he wants is you by his side for the rest of his life.

“You better pick that book back up, Sir,” you lift your head to look Bucky in the eyes. “I won’t accept violence against books in this house.”

He grins at your words and says, “Baby doll, I promise to protect the books too. No one will touch them. I swear.”

"You are a great man," you say while snuggling into his chest and closing your eyes. “My protective and strong boyfriend.”

“My sweet and caring girlfriend,” he says as you softly whisper his name. “I’ll burn the world for you…”

>> Part 3

Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags @marshyrebelcloud​

@buchanan-lover​

@rosalynshields​

@jane-dough666-blog​

@hinata7346​

@sociallyantisocialbutterfly

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[sjsmith56]

Mr. Barnes Seizes the Day

Summary - AU one shot. Mr. Barnes, a bachelor grammar school principal romances a spinster teacher on his staff, after receiving his orders to report for duty in WW II.

Length: 6.5 K

Characters: James Barnes, named OFC.

Warnings: lack of confidence, fear of rejection, no smut although it is implied.

Author notes: Was going to wait on posting this but these recent pictures brought up an idea for a story. Other writers may see him as a mobster, but in this AU I see him as an unmarried school principal contemplating his life choices and deciding to do something about it.  Carpe diem is Latin, translated often to "seize the day." Images of Sebastian Stan by @popeofthebowery. 

Brooklyn, January 1943

He looked in the mirror as he did his tie, the same colour tie he had worn every school day for 18 years.  It had always been a black tie with a white shirt, a black sweater vest, and black suit, black shoes; his current uniform, soon to be replaced by a pink and green one.  The new uniform would actually be a dark olive drab jacket over a lighter shade drab for the trousers but he had it on good authority that the officers in the army called them pinks and greens.  It was going to be quite the change for the 40-year-old bachelor. 

James Barnes looked once again at the orders he received in the mail yesterday, to report for basic training, followed by officer school.  After all the years of being regarded as too soft to be anything but a teacher, Mrs. Barnes only son Bucky was going to war.  Not that the staff at the school knew him as Bucky.  To them, he was always Mr. Barnes, a quiet, bearded, unmarried man who seemed destined to always be alone.  After Ma died, he had been just that as his sisters were busy with their own families.  Well, at least with him being in the army, he would be going somewhere, doing something, instead of just being the principal at a grammar school in Brooklyn.  He sighed.  Maybe, just maybe he could get past his usual introverted nature and go out with a woman before he left.  Perhaps he could even finally get up the nerve to ask Miss Heathcott to dinner, or at least a walk in the park.  It had only been 12 years since she first joined the staff at the grammar school.  He really should have asked her out then when he was still a young man and had more to offer than the confirmed bachelor he now was.  How she was still unmarried was beyond him but maybe she was waiting for the right man.

He combed his hair into its usual place, put his vest on and went to the window, just like he did every weekday morning to see the weather, confirming that it looked like another grey winter day.  He turned around, taking in his two-bedroom apartment, his haven after a busy day dealing with the stress of running a school.  The bookcases full of his favourite titles, the gramophone, and records of the jazz music he loved, were his escape from his loneliness.  It suddenly bothered him that it would all be sitting here, unused unless he could find someone to sublet it to, someone who would look after it for him so that when he returned, he could live the quiet life again in his personal haven.

After his usual breakfast of two boiled eggs, toast and coffee, Mr. Barnes washed up the dishes, brushed his teeth, put his jacket on, then his overcoat, and his hat, ready for the brief walk to the subway station.  When he got there a lineup awaited him.  Now that gasoline and rubber were rationed, many people had to put their cars up on blocks and switch to public transportation.  It had made commuting longer and more crowded.  He stood in the packed train car, holding onto the strap that hung down from the top bar, trying to keep a respectable distance from the women who had joined the work force since the men were called to war.  At his stop, several others got off, going their different ways after leaving the station.  It was only a few minutes walk to the school, and he fished his master keys out.  Only he and the head custodian had them.  Mr. Barnes usually unlocked the school in the morning, Mr. Santucci locked it up at night.  He turned on the lights from the master electrical panel, then entered his office, taking his overcoat off.  Checking the thermostat, he made sure it read 72°, so that it would be warm for the children by the time they got there.  Then he started up the coffee urn in the staff room, before unlocking the staff door, knowing that they would start arriving within the next quarter hour.  It was all part of his usual morning routine, and it suddenly struck him how much he was stuck in that rut of duty, habit, and dullness.  Leaning against an empty wall he wondered what he had become.

He was still standing in the staff room, waiting for the coffee to finish percolating, so he could empty the used grounds then clean the filter, to prevent the coffee from becoming bitter, when Miss Heathcott arrived.  She stepped inside, surprised to see Mr. Barnes leaning against a wall, looking down to the floor but not seeing anything.  He seemed a little pensive, then he heard her and straightened up, giving her a small smile.

"Good morning, Miss Heathcott," he said, politely, trying to restore his usual projection of calm leadership.  "You're early today."

"I had some final preparations for art class," she answered, taking her coat off and hanging it up in the closet.  "Is everything alright, Mr. Barnes?  You seem a little preoccupied."

"I am a little," he answered truthfully.  "I have an important announcement for the staff, but I'll wait for everyone to arrive before I make it.  It will only take a few moments between first bell and final bell."  He moved over to a chalkboard in the staff room.  "I guess I should put that down so that people return in time to hear the announcement.  Coffee is made if you wish to have some.  I still have to empty and clean the filter."

"Thank you," she smiled.  "I will.  I can clean the filter for you, since you were thoughtful enough to get it started."

She poured herself a coffee then opened the top and carefully lifted the filter with the steaming grounds out of the urn, aware that he was watching her.  Why it made her a little nervous today was a mystery to her.  They had worked together in the school for twelve years, her entire school career.  He had been a 5th grade teacher when she started fresh out of college.  Promoted to assistant principal ten years ago, and principal four years ago, he was still a handsome man and she had wondered if they could ever have more than a working relationship.  But his introverted nature, especially around women, became clear soon enough and she gave up any hope of him noticing her in a romantic sense, resigning herself to being a spinster since other men seemed as indifferent to her.  Still, he was always a gentleman, and an effective manager of their staff as he was quite unflappable by the shenanigans of some students, as well as being well respected by the parents.

Leaving the staff room to don his overcoat again and take on the supervision of arriving students, Mr. Barnes greeted everyone as they arrived.  There was always a persistent group of children around him, sharing the details of their lives.  He took it all in good stride, knowing from experience that for those children from a single parent family, they needed the attention of another adult to hear their thoughts and observations.  It was also a way for him to learn who was having difficulties with the necessities of life or dealing with issues that could be overwhelming.  For the children who were smaller, weaker, and prone to bullying, he was their knight in shining armour, making it very clear that particular behaviour was not tolerated at his school.  It was all part of keeping the school running efficiently while providing a safe learning environment.

Before the first bell sounded, he asked some of the more responsible students in the 5th grade to shepherd the younger students to their rooms as he had a brief staff meeting to attend.  When the bell sounded, he made sure everyone was lined up, filed inside in an orderly fashion, then he went straight to the staff room, removing his overcoat along the way.  The talking in the staff room stopped as he entered, placed his overcoat on a chair and stepped towards the chalkboard.

"Thank you for being here on time," he said.  "There is some important news to share after I received a letter in the mail yesterday.  I am to report for basic army training in one month.  After 8 weeks I am to attend officer training school, after which I will be sent to the European theatre.  I haven't informed the superintendent yet, but I will as soon as the morning classes start.  I will recommend that Mr. Miller be promoted to principal in my absence, but the final decision is with the administration of our school district, as are any decisions regarding assistant principal.  The parents and student body will be informed once we get the confirmation of the transfer of responsibility."

He waited for questions.  Since there weren't any, he nodded his head briefly at the staff, then left, picking up his overcoat along the way.  Mrs. Hardy, his secretary, followed a few minutes later, taking her position at the desk in the front office, while he hung his overcoat up.  He came out again, to supervise in the hallways before the final bell rang, signalling the start of the school day.  Satisfied that everyone was where they should be he returned to the office and sat at his desk to make that phone call to the superintendent's office.  With that out of the way, he began dealing with the school budget. 

That lasted until two boys were brought into the office by Miss Heathcott, both boys appearing very sullen.  She left them in the outer office then appeared at Mr. Barnes' door to explain the situation before returning to her classroom.  He couldn't help but watch her leave wondering why it made him feel like he was being left behind.  Putting that aside he dealt with the boys' dispute, listening to their versions of it as he sat in his chair, his hand on his jaw.  Their dispute was based on a game of marbles that resulted in one of the boys losing his boulder aggie, large agate marble for those who never played.  He told them a story of his boyhood friend who died of polio at the age of 10.  Steve and he played marbles all the time, regularly winning and losing against each other but never letting the heat of the game interfere with their friendship. 

"When he died his ma gave me his marbles, knowing that he would want me to have them.  She said I could give them to my sons, except I don't have any because I never got married.  You two remind me of us, except we never fought each other or called each other names, other than jerk or punk.  I miss him, every day of my life.  Marbles are just things, to be won and to be lost.  But friendship lasts a lifetime and beyond.  Don't let the marbles make you enemies.  Now, if you two can show me that you can get along and maybe become friends, I might be persuaded to give you a bag of marbles that have some dandies in them.  But you have to prove that you're worthy of them.  Can you boys do that for me?"

They both promised and Mr. Barnes walked the boys back to the classroom, making it clear he expected them to apologize to their classmates and Miss Northcott for interrupting the class.  With a nod to the woman teacher who smiled warmly at him in a way that he felt deep inside, he returned to his office and the matter of the budget for the rest of the day.  When classes were dismissed, Mr. Barnes usually insisted that all teachers make an appearance outside the school, both to make sure the students were dispersed and to be a visible presence for any parents who were there.  In his experience he found some parents, especially those from certain families were uncomfortable inside the school but found it easier to approach a teacher outside.  Today there were a few inquiries but nothing that wasn't handled quickly.  More than once he found his attention drawn to Miss Heathcott, her caramel-coloured hair shining in the winter sunlight and her cheeks pink from the brisk air.  Had she always been this beautiful?  The answer was yes but she seemed even more beautiful today.

Most of the teachers stayed for a time to prepare for the next day classes, but Mr. Barnes was always the last one of out the school, other than the custodians.  It was just the way he was.  Walking through the hallways to find out who was still present before he finally left, he was surprised to see Miss Northcott still in her classroom, considering she was in early that morning.  He watched her for several moments, unseen by her.  Intently focused on some papers on her desk, strands of her hair had worked their way over her face, and he wondered if it was as soft as it looked.  Knocking gently on her door frame, he stood in the doorway, as she looked up at him.  Her eyes were a little red.  Had she been crying?

"You're here late.  Is everything alright?"

Embarrassed, she looked away briefly.  "Mostly."  She gave a nervous laugh.  "I know that's not much of an answer.  I guess I'm a little concerned about you going to war.  It will be different here, without you."

He approached her desk, deciding to be bold for once in his life.

"Would you go out with me?" he asked.  "Dinner, or even just a walk on an afternoon this weekend?"

She looked up at him again, noticing how his distinctive blue eyes held their gaze on her.  She could get lost in those eyes.

"A walk sounds nice," she said.  "Here, or in the city?"

He smiled, his even white teeth adding to his handsome features.  "Central Park.  I can meet you at the subway or there at the park."

"At the park is fine," she said.  "Saturday, at 2 pm, at the boathouse ice rink?  Perhaps we can rent skates."

Envisioning the possibility of his arm around her waist as they skated in Central Park he agreed to her suggestion and the date was made.  As he waited for her to put her coat and galoshes on in the staff room before he left, he was filled with an anticipation he hadn't felt in years.  For the remainder of the week, it was challenging to keep their mind on their work.  Both of them, alone and lonely, wondered if perhaps this could be the beginning of something wonderful.  It was difficult not to imagine a future together, even though they had no idea if they were compatible beyond a good work relationship.  For the first time in a long while, both individuals dared to dream of a future with someone at their side.

Then Saturday morning dawned, and Mr. Barnes looked out his window in dismay at the heavy snow that was falling.  Quickly turning on the radio he listened to the announcer describe a weather system that was supposed to go north to Canada, but instead came east to New York.  Temperatures were expected to plummet throughout the day.  It was suggested that the next few days of snowfall could shut the whole city down with the amount that was expected.  Sitting forlornly at his kitchen table, Mr. Barnes made the decision to cancel the date and pulled out his list of teacher names, addresses and telephone numbers.  As he picked out Lucy Heathcott's name in the list, he noted her address was within walking distance of his apartment.  As the phone rang, he suddenly thought of another way to see her.  It was quite improper to ask this of Miss Heathcott, but something told him that if he didn't take this chance, he might regret it for the rest of his life.  For too long he had followed the path of least resistance.  Now was the time for confidence.

"Carpe diem," he said out loud, just as the receiver on the end was picked up.

"Hello?" said a voice on the other end.  He recognized it as Miss Heathcott.  "Who is this?"

"James Barnes," he replied.  Bold, be bold.  "It seems that the weather will make our plans for Central Park unwise, but I wanted to suggest an alternative."

She was quiet for a moment.  "I'm listening."

"You don't live far from me," he said, "and I would be willing to come over and walk you back, but would you consider coming to my apartment?  We can have lunch, listen to music and talk."

He let out a shaky breath.  He had done it, had suggested something as an alternative to cancelling the date.  She was quiet again, then he heard it, an almost imperceptible whisper of carpe diem.  Was it possible that she also wished to throw caution to the wind and do something completely out of character?

"It's supposed to get worse during the day," she said, hesitantly.  "What if by the time I have to go home it is isn't possible?"

It wasn't an outright refusal, but he understood that her reputation was on the line.  She was an unmarried woman, in a position of responsibility.  If it wasn't possible for her to go home, then she would have to stay at his apartment which could reflect poorly on both of them.  He did have a second bedroom.  Why couldn't Miss Heathcott be his guest and stay in the other bedroom?  That wasn't improper, was it?

"You can stay," he answered.  "I have a second bedroom.  It was my mother's before she passed away.  You would be my guest."  He breathed out.  Carpe diem.  "It's just that I was so looking forward to spending time with you.  When I saw the snow, and heard the forecast, it made me feel that perhaps fate was conspiring against us.  Then I realized that life is a choice.  We either accept the limitations placed on us, or we strive to overcome them.  If you insist on returning to your rooming house before dark, I will make sure you get home safely."

He closed his eyes, praying that she would accept. 

"Meet me halfway," she said, after a long silence.  "I live in a rooming house and the landlady would be bothered by a man picking me up.  I'll bring some things to stay, just in case, but I don't promise anything."

An hour later Mr. Barnes met Miss Heathcott, both bundled up enough to cover their faces, but he recognized her scarf and approached her as the snow fell in large wet clumps.  Extending his hand, he took her small valise from her, then offered her his other arm for the walk back to his apartment.  It was the first time they had ever touched and her presence on his arm felt wonderful to him.  They didn't speak until they entered his building and stamped the snow off their feet.  In his apartment they removed their galoshes, and heavy overcoats, hanging them up in the closet by the door.  Both quickly ran their hands through their hair.  He took her valise, leading Miss Heathcott, Lucy, to the second bedroom, handing her luggage to her at the door.

"I'll leave you to get settled," he said.  "Would you like a coffee or would a tea interest you?"

"Tea would be nice," she answered.  "Milk, no sugar.  Thank you ... James."

Lucy came out to a tray set up on a table in the living room, with a teapot, two cups with saucers, and milk.  Taking a closer look at the living room space, she thought it felt very comfortable, with good quality furniture and decor.  Although it was not what she was expecting it showed her host in a positive light.  Noticing the full bookshelves and the record collection she smiled, somehow not surprised at what Mr. Barnes ... James, did to relax.  He came out of the kitchen, carrying a small plate of cookies, wearing a pair of brown trousers, a grey shirt, and a pullover sweater with an argyle pattern of brown and grey over it.  She must have made a noise because he looked at her, then at himself, suddenly self-conscious.

"I've never seen you wear anything other than your black suit and white shirt," she said.  "You look nice, like a different person."

"My first principal insisted on all the men teachers wearing the same suit," he answered.  "Said it was a mark of professionalism.  It just became a habit, I guess.  I usually wear something like this on the evenings and weekends.  In the summer I'm even more relaxed in appearance."  A compliment on his clothing should be returned.  "You look good, too.  I've never seen you in slacks."

"With the cold weather I thought it was prudent," she breathed.  "You live alone?"

He approached closer to where she stood.  "Yes.  My mother lived with me as my sisters are married with small children.  She became too ill to live at home and had to go into the hospital.  She passed away about three years ago.  My father died shortly after I graduated from college. I assumed responsibility for caring for my family."

"I'm sorry.  My folks are still alive but they're in Illinois.  I only get back to see them at Christmas and in the summer." 

They both stopped talking and stood there, unsure what to do next.  He gestured to an armchair for Lucy to sit in, while he sat on the couch.  Pouring her tea first, he handed her the cup and saucer, then poured some for himself.  They sipped from their cups quietly, letting the warmth of the liquid rejuvenate them.  Sitting back, Mr. Barnes crossed his legs at the knee.  Lucy stayed upright in the armchair, crossing her legs at the ankle and angling them to one side. 

"How long have you lived here?" she asked.

"10 years," he answered.  "After my sisters got married my mother's health took a turn and she was unable to be in a place with stairs.  This apartment had elevator access which was easier for her.  Taking care of her took up most of my spare time outside of the school and left no time for courting."  He sipped again.  "I don't want to give it up while I'm away so I'm looking for someone to sublet it while I am overseas."

"It's a very nice place," said Lucy.  "It feels comfortable."  I could be happy living here.  It's much nicer than the rooming house.

He suddenly leaned forward and picked up the plate of cookies offering it to her.  With a polite smile, she took one, placing it on her saucer. 

"You have an interesting assortment of books and records," she said, after she bit into her cookie.  "Have you read all of the books and listened to all of the music?"

"Yes, to both," he answered.  "I taught my sisters to dance with those records, and I've been an avid reader since I was a boy.  Do you read?"

"Yes.  I listened more to the radio for music than bought records.  Who's your favourite author?"

"I was first interested in the stories of Edgar Rice Burroughs, Jules Verne, and H.G. Wells, then I discovered The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien.  It was like being transported to another universe.  Did you know he invented several languages just for the world he created, a place he called Middle Earth?  He's a brilliant man."

"I'll have to read it."  She ate some more of her cookie.  "I'm more of a mystery fan, myself.  Agatha Christie is a favourite."

"She is a good writer."  He looked towards his bookshelf.  "I have the ones with Hercule Poirot in them.  He's a fascinating character."

Lucy beamed at James, glad to have found something in common with him.  They talked more about books, music, and movies, although both admitted they didn't go to the pictures too often.  She offered to help prepare lunch and they talked more in the kitchen about food.  They spent the afternoon listening to several radio shows, sharing the sofa.  As the day lengthened into the late afternoon, Lucy suddenly moved to the window looking out over the snowy landscape.  There were no vehicles about and only a few people were walking.  The wind had come up as well, as she could hear it whistle a little bit through the window.

"I should go home," said Lucy.  "If I wait until dark it will make it difficult to see where I'm going."

"Don't go."  James said quickly.  "I am having a wonderful time getting to know you better."

"What would people say if they knew I was here?  I could lose my job."

"But they don't know," he answered.  "Did your landlady notice you leaving with your valise?"

Lucy nodded then looked down.  "I lied and told her I was spending the night with a girlfriend whose husband had just left for England.  Said she was nervous about being alone during the snowfall."

Wringing her hands a little betrayed her distress at having to lie.  Gently, he placed one of his hands on hers, stilling her motions.  It was a little presumptuous, he knew, but he didn't want her to leave.  This had been a wonderful time for him.

"I'm glad you're here," he said.  "In the morning the snowplows will likely be out, and the footing will be easier to manage."  He looked out the window.  "By the time we got halfway you would have to walk the rest of the way alone in the dark and I couldn't ... I wouldn't leave you to do that.  The odds of your landlady seeing us would increase.  Please ... stay."

Her hands were so soft that he was unaware he was gently rubbing his thumb over the back of one of them.  She looked at it, then at him and swallowed.  Smiling, he released her hands and stepped back. 

"I'll stay but you promise to be a gentleman?"

"On my mother's memory," he replied.  "I would never force myself on you."

She took him at his word.  Even though it was cold and dark outside, inside, in his heart, he felt light and young again.  Together they prepared dinner, lighting candles on the table, and listening to orchestral music on the radio.  After washing up, they returned to the living room and sat quietly again in the stillness that seemed to amplify the beating of their hearts.

"Would you dance with me?" he asked.  "There is always nice music on the radio." 

"I'm not very good," she replied, blushing.  "I rarely get asked."

"That's alright.  Neither am I really.  All we have to do is sway and move our feet a little.  Please."

She nodded and he turned the radio on, tuning in a station with slow dance music.  Taking his hand, she tensed a little at how his other hand touched her back, bringing them closer together.  Tentatively, they began swaying to the music, and slowly relaxed into it.  He placed his head close to hers, close enough to smell her perfume and became brave enough to tell her something, when The Man I Love came on.

"Every time I hear this song, I imagine I'm in Paris," he murmured.  "I'm with a beautiful woman and we're outside a café.  The music wafts out onto the sidewalk and the only light is from the streetlamp above.  Even though there are others there, in our circle of light we feel like we're alone.  It's a warm summer night.  I'm wearing trousers and a dress shirt, no tie, and my sleeves are rolled up because of the heat, while my partner is wearing a pretty dress and heels."

She looked up at him, noticing how dark his eyes seemed.  Lucy's heart was beating so loudly, she was sure James could hear it, but he just kept looking at her.

"What happens next?" she asked. 

"Suddenly, we are alone, as everyone goes inside to refresh their drinks.  I brush my fingers along her cheek."  He stopped and brushed his fingers just above her jawline.  "Then I kiss her softly on the lips and draw her into my embrace."

Looking at his lips she opened hers slightly and he leaned over kissing her gently, pulling her into his arms, as she wrapped her arms around him.  It was every bit as nice as he imagined.  Her lips were so soft and pliable, and the touch of their tongues sent a sensation into his brain that made him want more.  How her body felt, melded with his as they held each other, reminded him of the first woman he fell in love with when he was in college. The memory of how they spent their first night together affected him physically in a way he thought was gone forever.  The song finished but neither of them heard the next song be introduced or begin as they kept the sweet connection going.  Slowly, he pulled away then caressed her face.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he said.  "Lucy, I know that we don't have long before I leave but would you allow me to see you until then?"

"To what end?" she asked.  "I've wanted to kiss you as well, but I want more than just spending time together."  She looked away, embarrassed a little.  "I felt how your body responded to me as we kissed. I know it's normal in a man, but I've never been in the position of feeling desire that way. I want more."

He gasped slightly.  What was she saying?  Carefully, he cleared his throat.

"You felt desire for me?"  She nodded.  That was unexpected.  He had accepted her caveat of being a gentleman when she agreed to stay.  "It's been a long time since I was with a lady.  College, actually.  I never expected you to ...."

She put her fingertips on his lips, and he kissed them, softening his gaze on her.  He couldn't deny that the thought of being with her in that way wasn't enticing to him, but this was new ground for him.  As a man, he wanted it but as a gentleman there was more to consider, especially for her. 

What if a child was conceived?  It would make him a cad if he was overseas and received a letter from her saying their tryst had produced a baby.  She would lose her job, be ostracized, and evicted from her rooming house, although she could live here.  He glanced around his apartment; she could live here.  What if she did so as his wife?  They had known each other for 12 years.  They weren't strangers.  He was a bachelor; she was a spinster; successful marriages had been built just on that.  With the war on, she could continue working as a married woman, if she wanted.  He looked at her upturned face, a small smile gracing it, and felt that warmth again.  Carpe diem.

"Would you marry me?" he asked.  "We could go to City Hall before it closes one day and get the licence and be married next weekend.  You could move in here, stay here while I'm away, be waiting for me when I get back.  If what we do tonight produces a child, you'll be taken care of.  If anything happens to me, all that I have will be yours."

Marry him?  Her mouth was suddenly dry, and no words were forthcoming from her lips.  A proposal certainly was unexpected.  She had crossed a boundary by coming here, then had crossed another by even suggesting they be together physically.  Now, he was offering a chance to make it right.  He was offering the protection of his name and his home by asking her to be his wife, regardless of what would come from this night.  Is that what she wanted?  Carpe diem.

"Yes."

Their kiss was brief but deep, intense, and full of anticipation. James, ever the gentleman, wanted to ensure Lucy felt safe with him. He wouldn’t be aggressive with her as it wasn’t his nature. They could begin with sharing a bed and go from there.

"Do you want to change into your nightclothes?" he asked.  "We can be in my bedroom or in yours.  Whatever you're more comfortable with."

"Yours," she said.  "I would like to change.  James, do you like me?"

He lowered his eyes and breathed out noticeably.  For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer her or would say that he didn't.

"I have loved you from afar for a long time. If I had a flower for every time I thought of you ... I could walk through my garden forever.  Alfred, Lord Tennyson said that, and I have known that I loved you ever since the first day I laid eyes on you.  When I return, we'll have a house with a garden full of flowers.  It won't make up for the years I was too afraid to say anything, but I will say it now.  I love you, Lucy.  Now and forever, you will be in my heart."

Nothing else mattered after those words were spoken.  The kiss they shared at this moment was more intense and passionate than she had ever imagined a kiss could be.  To be wanted so much by a man, and to want him in return was the most wonderful feeling in the world.  Right now, this was their world, and they would live by their decisions.

💞 💞

June 1945

The taxi driver wouldn't take the money that Captain Barnes offered to him when he pulled up in front of the Brooklyn apartment building.  He saw the medals on the officer's uniform, then noticed the folded up left sleeve of the man's jacket.  This was a war hero, a man who lost an arm for his country, a man who made it back alive.  Today, he rode free.  With a slight smile, Barnes got out of the taxi, reaching in for his duffle bag and grasping the strap with his right hand.  As he stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the brick building that he hadn't seen in two years he wondered if Lucy would forgive him for not telling her what happened.  Might as well get it over with.

The elevator ride was slow, but it gave him time to think about all that had happened since their quick marriage, and separation after he left.  It was only six weeks into basic training that Lucy wrote him about being pregnant.  She turned the second bedroom into a nursery, selling his mother's bedroom suite, on his insistence, to pay for the baby furniture they needed.  Her letters had been filled with love and longing for the day when they would be reunited. 

When he lost his arm, just days before Germany's surrender, he couldn't bring himself to tell her.  It was hard to admit that he felt less a man than he did before.  He wasn't sure he could return to being a school principal.  Would staff and students still respect him without his arm?  Then the day came when he got his orders to report to a hospital ship returning to New York.  His stump wound was healing well so he didn't need much medical care on the trip back.  An army doctor on board told him that as a veteran he could get an artificial arm fitted, admitting they weren't the most friendly looking things, using hooks to replace a lost hand, but gave him a card for a special foundation, funded by the billionaire Howard Stark.  He was developing a new type of prosthetic for amputees and wanted men willing to try his prototypes out.  It was worth exploring.

The elevator stopped and the door opened.  Grasping his duffle bag again, Barnes walked to the door of his apartment and placed the bag on the floor, then tentatively knocked on the door.  He could hear Lucy's footsteps approaching, his heart racing with an ominous sense of foreboding.  Then it opened, and there she was, looking up at him in surprise.  Her arms went around his neck, as she cried, calling his name out over and over again.  Wrapping his right arm around her, he buried his now clean-shaven face into her neck, taking in the smell of her perfume and the softness of her hair and skin.  Then their lips met, deliriously tasting and sensing that which they had both missed since they said goodbye.  Her hands went to his arms, and it was then she noticed, as she looked from where his left arm should have been to his face and back again.

"Your arm ... you lost it."  It was said as a statement of fact.  He nodded, prepared to explain.  "Oh, my darling, my love.  If that was the price to bring you back to me then that's how it is.  For you are back, aren't you?  You are still mine?  Still my James?"

"Now and forever," he answered, almost ready to cry in relief.  He took in all of her, her face, her hair, her lips, her hands that he brought to his own lips to kiss.  "I'm home and I'm never going to war again."

She caressed his face, then kissed him again, a sweet and gentle peck that was just as loving as the passionate one shared moments earlier.  Stepping back into the apartment as he picked up his bag, she waited for him to drop it off inside the door, then he took his cap off, placing it on a side table.  Leading him into the living room where a playpen held his son, James Barnes Jr., she dropped his hand.  The toddler raised his arms to Lucy, and she scooped him up.

"JJ, this is your daddy," she said.  "Daddy's home from the war.  Can you say hi and give him a kiss?"

The little boy's attention was taken by the medals on his father's uniform, reaching for them with his chubby hands.  Holding his right arm out, Bucky held him firmly on his hip, looking at the blue eyes, and Lucy's hair on this beautiful child, his child, conceived on a wintry night when a lonely man and woman, who thought life had passed them by, decided to seize the day and reach for happiness together.  His lips trembled and his eyes watered.  He had never been so happy, as he was right this moment.  What would the future bring?  Whatever they willed it.

One shots masterlist

[aya-fay]

At gunpoint part II

Author: Aya-Fay

Fandom: Captain America

Pairing: Mobster!Sebastian Stan x fem!Reader; platonic Chris Evans x fem!Reader

Summary:  Each of us has our own problems in lives and demons in souls. Some of us cope on our own, some of us need a little help from friends, and some of us go to a psychologist. Every problem has its own salvation, except for one – how to suppress the strongest desire to fuck your psychologist?

Warnings: smut; not protected sex. Sebastian is not really working as a psychologist. He has just taken over his Empire and needed a cover for some time. 

Status: In-progress

My Sebastian Stan's masterlist and My Main Masterlist

Part I of this series may be found here: At gunpoint part I

Five years ago.

Dr. Stan's office was a long room, all the illumination of which consisted of two windows that overlooked the courtyard of the neighboring building, which blocked all the sun's rays, preventing them from entering the office even on the clearest days, leaving the doctor's office immersed in pleasant darkness. Opposite the front door was a small marble fireplace. It was flanked by a bookcase, made of solid black oak, with large panels, decorated with intricately carved mirrors, which occupied the entire space of the walls between the front door and the table. This magnificent bookcase contained a collection of rare and valuable books, luxuriously bound in red morocco, with coats of arms on covers and spines... A collection of German classics, Latin authors, and just a few scattered volumes of the most famous contemporary psychiatrists.

Opposite the bookcase, in the wall between the windows, rose a large bookcase for papers, also of carved black oak, and there were folders of red morocco with gold letters on it. That was the exact place where a plaster figurine, about half a meter high, depicting Jung stood on the highest shelf.

On the fireplace, adorned with a medium-sized mirror, were a brushed bronze alarm clock and two brown porcelain vases. The furniture of this dark and secluded room was completed by a large Voltaire armchair upholstered in natural leather, a massive writing desk, and four high-backed low chairs of black oak, upholstered in brown cloth with long silk fringe of the same color.

The whole office is immersed in twilight; long black shadows rise from dark corners to the ceiling; it seems that someone is hiding there and looking at a bright spot above a large table. Without thinking twice, Y/N climbed with her feet into a large leather chair and, pressing her chin to her knees, carefully studied the situation, trying neither breathe nor move.

Dr. Stan who entered the office had not yet noticed her, and therefore she had a chance to examine him better: the man looked to be no more than 35, styled short dark hair and dark eyes were intensely looking for something among the shelves with books. Unbeknownst to Y/N, Sebastian was aware of her presence as well as she was of his, the moment he entered the office. Everyone had their sins.

Smirking, Y/N turned away from the doctor and stared at the magazine, continuing to watch the motionless man from under her eyelashes.

“I always wanted to know if this work with nymphomaniacs too?” Sebastian asked in a low voice, suddenly being in front of the girl, leaning towards her. The tone was partly friendly and trusting, partly tempting. In general, the usual tone of a man interested in a woman. The only difference was that you came here to fight addiction, not surrender to it.

Y/N made an effort to pull herself out of her thoughts and understand what Dr. Stan was talking about.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Sebastian nodded at the magazine in girl's hands, open on an unexpectedly revealing lingerie advertisement. All this time, immersed in her thoughts, she looked at the page, not realizing what was depicted there. And so now, having glanced over the page, she thought that she would not actually mind at all being in the place of the young model, who was tilted to the table, whose legs were spread to the side. The man in his thirties who was holding the model by her neck in place was strangely reminding her psychologist. Male model’s crouch was tightly pressed into female model’s back. The poses were a bit odd so it was probably heavily edited with Photoshop. The meaning of Sebastian's question still eluded her.

“Sir, I still don't really understand what you're talking about.” The girl mumbled noticing how man’s posture changed at the word Sir. Interesting reaction.

“You've been staring at this advertisement for almost five minutes. This indicates a certain interest. Name’s Sebastian” Sebastian smirked fully aware of his sudden non-professional interest in this girl. “Why do you think you are here?” He asked the girl finally sitting in front of her.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “Well, my friend considers me to be a pervert, because I am interested in…” She looked straight into man’s storming blue eyes liking her lips “older man. Daddy issues, you know. What even kind of disease is that? ”

Sebastian chuckled, clearly understanding that if her friend knew about his desires and interests she would sue him not gave her friend for him to cure.

“I think you're right, there is no such disease, and it's quite normal, unless you like old man with bald heads.” His response took her by surprise; apparently she was waiting for a completely different turn of events.

“Would you like some tea?” He asked watching her face closely. She definitely didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want for her to leave either.

She bit her lip derisively, stood up and put her elbows on the armrests of his chair, bending closer to the man, trapping him in her presence.

The man was clenching and unclenching his fists, and the jaws on his cheekbones were trembling, and she almost laughed in his face at how comical and stupid he looked trying to conceal his desire. Suddenly he roughly squeezed her hands, pulled her closer to him so that their noses almost touched. Y/N exhaled raggedly and ran her eyes over Sebastian’s face.

“Listen, if you were not my patient and we were not restricted by ethic I would fuck you right here on the table.” He whispered through gritted teeth.

She freed one of her hands, raised it to her face and playfully bit the tip of her finger, watching with pleasure how his beautiful face was distorted with poorly controlled lust.  “How is that a problem? Sir, I am no teenager anymore and I would definitely jump your bones with pleasure.”

Furrowing his eyebrows and staring at young girl incomprehensibly, Sebastian exhaled in confusion, abruptly moved away and dug his fingers into the dark strands, pulling them away from the roots. She raised her fist to her mouth and chuckled softly at his sight, wanting to prolong this moment when such man really looks absent-minded. The only thing she didn’t take into account was the complete silence which let Sebastian hear her laughter clearly. She has already sat on the table resting her hands on it.

“So you are not worried at all?” he asks briefly turning around to face Y/N, loosening his tie, and then taking it off completely. It was much easier to control and cure others than to get hold of his own demons and emotions. With each word she said to him he could feel how impulses run through the whole body, anger that started to peak its head due to her outright impudence finally turned into complete lust and he found himself wanting to fuck this girl in the dirtiest positions.

“I just give in to this game unlike you” she seductively smiles at him, but all her bravado and playfulness disappear instantly the moment she felt a hot hand closing on her neck, and a man's knee pushing her legs apart and a heavy body literally leaning on her now. Looking up, she sees how wildly Sebastian was looking at her and she quickly came to one right conclusion that it would be better for her to keep quiet now.

Swallowing thick saliva hard, she felt his free hand squeezing her waist, pulling her closer and the only thing she could feel is how her legs are trembling in excitement.

“What a fucking tease you are, Y/N,” Sebastian leans down to her and hisses in her face. The fingers on her neck squeeze harder and pull forward, so she automatically leans in to meet the embittered face. “Unbearable, arrogant, deliciously smelling and sexy beautiful tease.”

Normal, mentally stable person would choke on such vulgar words addressed to her and would definitely feel insulted, but Y/N was not such woman. She felt desire flared up inside her as her red underwear became godlessly wet, and she frantically tried to bring her thighs together, ignoring the fact that a man was standing between them.

She only has time to notice a predatory grin on a man’s face with a blurred gaze and before she could even squeak or process what was happening, Sebastian abruptly lowered her onto the table completely while she brought her legs together on his lower back.

“So you are indeed in my game. Did you close the door?” she hoarse with not her own voice when male fingers found their way to girl’s hips and furiously tore expensive nylon tights. She put her hands on his chest, trying to push the man a bit to see the answer to her question. He nodded unable to speak and squeezed her neck harder to shift the focus to himself.

Sebastian lifts up the hem of a light dress to the waist and quickly takes off her soaked underwear. She probably should have been ashamed of such a reaction of her body, but male fingers slide between the labia, and then burst into her body, instantly picking up a frantic pace.

“Did you really think that I would endure your arrogance in front of my nose?” His hoarse voice intoxicated and clouded her mind better than any expensive alcohol, and she rolled her eyes, enjoying it. “Rejoice, Y/N, because I have taken care of the confidentiality of our rendezvous, and I will fuck you properly so the only word would be left in that pretty head of yours. Sir.”

She could feel that she was beginning to choke on her own moans, which, due to the pressure on her throat, could not escape from her mouth, and she frantically tried to inhale at least some air into her lungs, but Sebastian, apparently, decided to ignore her need to breathe.

When his rough lips covered hers with a rough kiss, while his fingers continued forward movements from the inside, pushing the walls apart and pressing on the right points, she surrendered to his hot body. She slid her hips closer to the edge of the table and hooked her hands on the man's neck, responding to Sebastian's kiss with full passion.

Drowning in the animal lust that her psychologist gave her, she did not think about the consequences of their rash sex. Yes, she definitely wanted Sebastian it was pointless to deny, but now she was coming to the conclusion that she would prefer to have him in a more romantic setting, and not when he laid her out on the table the way he wanted himself, and his long aesthetic fingers were fucking her so well that, she was going to surrender to her Sir for a long time. She knew why she was here, but she could feel unknown prick of conscience that she was here by someone’s command.   

Breaking their kiss, he moved his hand from girl’s neck to chest and squeezed it hard, pulling out a loud moan from her swollen lips. Y/N threw hr head back and completely surrendered to the sensations of fullness when Sebastian added a third finger while pressing another one on her clitoris rubbing circles. She felt the blood running through the veins, and all the nerve endings and tension that had accumulated during the whole time that she had no sex gathered in one point.

Desperately whimpering, she begged Sebastian to speed up, although it seemed that it was no longer possible to move faster, and when she felt the first weak impulse of orgasm, the feeling of the man’s fingers in her abruptly stopped, leaving a painful emptiness.

In a hurry, she opened her eyes and saw how Sebastian was taking off his pants along with boxers, taking out his cock, pumping it. Putting his member to her entrance, he ran his fingers along the labia, collecting lubricant.

“Lustful little girl, now you will carefully watch right in my eyes the whole time as I will fuck you into this table and I do not advise you to look away or roll your eyes. You will not like the punishment.”   Sebastian whispered and entered her, starting to quickly knock her into the table.

Feelings of bliss went beyond her body and soul, and the sight of how a muscular body was driven deep into her, lifted Y/N somewhere higher than heaven, and his tense hand, which squeezed her neck, did not give her any doubt that the man, towering over me, finally took off the mask he was wearing outside of this room.

Biting her lip painfully and clutching the edge of the table with her nails, she inhaled and exhaled convulsively, because Sebastian was fucking her rough, forgetting about teasing all at once. She was swallowed in such unbridled pleasure, when it seemed that she was about to be torn apart by conflicting emotions, starting with a slight pain from the touch of the bodies, ending with a sweet bliss that ran through the veins like a current, with every push of the male body into her as she surrenders to his power.

With another rough push, a quiet moan escaped her lips as she felt how her body, with every movement of the member inside, went into the bliss, and the limbs trembled. She blinked rapidly as she felt the knot in her lower abdomen rip apart, and she moaned loudly, looking into Sebastian’s eyes., finally finding her bliss. He was close as his pace was quickly speeding up. For a moment she saw admiration and satisfaction flash in his eyes, but all this quickly disappeared behind a veil of lust and desire. The moment he threw his head back and growled loudly as he came, was probably one of the most beautiful signs in her life.

“Thank you, Sir” She said in mere whisper not fully knowing what exactly to say.

 “Such a good girl I got here.” He smiled, gently and quite unexpectedly stroking her cheek and swollen lips. "So obedient."

With a satisfied grunt, he quickly pulled on his trousers and fastened his belt under her studying gaze, picked up his shirt from the floor and, looking at Y/N with satisfied eyes, quickly buttoned it.

“Get up off the floor, Y/N, and put yourself in order,” he said, sinking into his chair, taking his eyes off her stunned face. “We'll meet soon. I’ll make sure of that.”

Tagging: @thequeenofmythandmonsters

[veltana]

your tag #mob aesthetic on that Seb Stan video did something to my brain, so now i think he looks like a mobster in EVERYTHING, which, uh.

like. casual mobster, cozy mobster, mobster getting ready, mobster trying for a better (more child friendly) image, mobster so gd pretty they had to do a photoshoot, and my fave, mobster bored in school

what have you done.

Omg Jean this is HILARIOUS!!! 😂

My absolute favorite is absolutely mobster bored in school! Wheezing! Dying! 🤣🤣🤣 and also trying for a more child friendly image! Like "Hey kids, wanna come join my illegal empire!"

Sorry, not sorry it's Sebastian's fault really! 🤷‍♀️

[steelbluehome]

"For the first hour of the film, Stan’s Trump is, deliberately, not the man we know today: his voice has a slight Queens bray, but he avoids all the caricaturist’s tics, murmurs softly and almost tenderly at times, even when describing his ambitious. Stan plays him as he’s written, nervous and unformed and frankly sympathetic"

Little White Lies (click for article)

Mark Asch

The Apprentice – first-look review

Ali Abbasi's attempted takedown of America's previous (and perhaps next) President of the United States, charting his early years under the mentorship of Roy Cohn, lacks the killer instinct.

Did you know Donald Trump is in Paris Is Burning? No, really: in Jennie Livingston’s seismic documentary on New York’s queer ballroom scene, an independent film about people at the margins, there’s an insert shot of a Forbes magazine cover: “What I Learned in the 80s” is the cover feature, and right underneath it, back row center in an illustration of various one-percenters luminaries, there he is, in between check-ins with Willi Ninja and Venus Xtravaganza.

When Trump was elected President of the United States in 2016, so much of American culture became retrospectively seeded with Easter eggs foreshadowing his eventual ascent to the seat of power; future generations, unlike mine, will have no trouble imagining how this could possibly have happened. For so long Trump was present within discourses on business, crime, race, and politics; he was in Home Alone 2 and had a show on NBC; he was a late-night talk-show punchline and appeared at Wrestlemania. He was so ubiquitous, for so long — how could he not have become President?

The point I want to make here is that there is very little we don’t know about Donald Trump; his rise to the White House was accompanied and indeed fueled by wall-to-wall coverage across all forms of media, which during his (first) term as President enjoyed a boom in readership and revenues — there was always another article breaking another new scandal, or unearthing another embarrassing episode from his past that had been hiding in plain sight all along.

It is, then, very difficult to make a movie that has something new to say about Donald Trump, that tells a new story or shows a new side of the most famous person — probably — you’re not supposed to say this — but they’re saying — many people are saying — he’s the most famous person, frankly, that we’ve ever seen, and we’re seeing him more and more. The task before The Apprentice — a biopic telling the story of Trump’s rise in the New York real estate world in the 70s and 80s, abetted by the notorious fixer Roy Cohn — is therefore a formidable one, and it’s not a task to which director Ali Abbasi and screenwriter Gabriel Sherman prove remotely equal.

The film begins in New York City, in the 70s, at an exclusive members’ club where Trump (Sebastian Stan), the twentysomething son of outerboro slumlord Fred (an unrecognizable Martin Donovan), restlessly narrates the power players in the room to his bored date; Trump is an outsider, a striver, palpably uncomfortable — but there, through a doorway, doing the Kubrick Stare, is Roy Cohn, former Joe McCarthy aide during the the Red Scare of the 1950s and infamous lawyer for mobsters and other power players, publicly revealed after his death from AIDS to be a closeted gay man. Cohn takes an interest in Trump, and smooths the wheels for his first big deal, the overhaul of the old Commodore on Manhattan’s then-decrepit 42nd Street.

Trump’s relationship with Cohn was widely reported on during his presidency, so much so that Cohn — a figure notorious enough to have been played by James Woods in a TV movie in the 1990s, and Al Pacino in the HBO miniseries of the Pulitzer-winning Angels in America — has been retconned as primarily Trump’s mentor; a feature-length documentary about him is titled Where’s My Roy Cohn?, after an Oval Office lament. So it’s not exactly newsworthy that the film credits Cohn with teaching Trump to affect a brashness and flair and to learn to attack, deny, and dominate the narrative — nor are these particular novel insights into Trump.

For the first hour of the film, Stan’s Trump is, deliberately, not the man we know today: his voice has a slight Queens bray, but he avoids all the caricaturist’s tics, murmurs softly and almost tenderly at times, even when describing his ambitious. Stan plays him as he’s written, nervous and unformed and frankly sympathetic, genuinely drawn to Ivana (Maria Bakalova) for her ambitions, a finicky and unschooled naïf wandering around Cohn’s decadent parties avoiding the drugs and gay sex. He’s a would-be shark so doughy and vague as to be almost sympathetic, like the budding young Nazi collaborator of Louis Malle’s Lacombe, Lucien.

The almost sympathetic cast of the film’s first hour is, I suppose, a fresh perspective, but equally an offensive and shallow one, driven less by any particular insight into the perverse incentives of American society — the film is remarkably insular, shot largely on soundstage recreations of the Trump home in Jamaica Estates, the penthouse in Trump Tower, the backs of various limos and the offices of various power brokers — than by the dictates of a character arc in which Cohn and Fred are obviously posited as polar opposite father figures, demanding and competitive men after whom Donald models himself and whose approval he seeks.

A number of things change at the film’s halfway mark. The film switches from a celluloid to a digital look — throughout, Abassi and cinematographer Kasper Tuxen ape the period of the action, from seamy red-tinted narrow-gauge for the gritty 70s to a bleary pixelated look that improves throughout the 80s—a gesture that would give the film an appealing momentum and raw texture were the narrative not so wedded to the historical record, with cutesy cameos from Warhol and Rupert Murdoch, and knowing references to the Trump Tower elevators, MAGA, and other future features of American life. Stock-footage montages exposit the eras’ historical context via potted histories of New York City, with an unclear point of view on the cycle of urban decline and rebirth in the postwar era: though lightly in quotation marks, they also seem objective accounts of a general historical record that gives credence to the narrative of White Flight–era NYC as “Fear City” (an image of lawlessness Trump long exploited, first as a developer and then as a demagogue), and of the go-go Reagan 80s, the decade in which Trump applied all of what he learned in the 70s, and of which he became an avatar.

At this point in the film, Stan’s dialogue takes on the familiar turns of phrase, the verbal and physical mannerisms: the diet pill— the pursed lips, the overenunciation and theatrical hand gestures, the addled mile-a-minute grandiose rants and flippant dismissals and breathtaking glibness and oddly matronly cattiness. It’s funny, but hardly virgin territory the years we’ve spent enjoying the work of comedians like James Austin Johnson and that one friend of yours who sends you voice memos in the Trump voice talking about the discourses of the day, impersonators who reshape the news by pushing the man’s implicit grotesquery and absurdity to the fore.

This Trump gets more flagrantly cruel to Ivana, delusional, thin-skinned and aggressive. It’s the kind of charismatic antihero’s journey that might fly in a Scorsese film — arguably the ultimate Trump film is The Wolf of Wall Street — but Abassi and Sherman’s take on the material is largely dutiful. The soundtrack aspires to an incongruously feel-good high-energy looseness that the film doesn’t back up. I’ve never been unhappier to hear Suicide, Pet Shop Boys or New Order, and the smash cut and needle drop that takes us out of after Trump’s rape of Ivana (a scene from her divorce deposition, staged as literally and luridly as you’d expect from the director of Holy Spider) is especially egregious.

Maybe there’s supposed to be a larger point about Trump’s political movement in the way that he’s shown to abandon Cohn as his former mentor’s legal aides and health woes pile up, but Cohn recedes from the narrative in the second half of the film, which is much less grounded in their relationship; though as Cohn weakens from a virus he steadfastly denied, the second hour is his turn to be portrayed more sympathetically than he deserves.

Strong has the same problem in his performance as Stan, in that Cohn is almost as media-saturated a figure as Trump. Strong gives Cohn a low, aggressive voice, slightly nasal and rounded, with casual and cruel inflections tossed out at a Succession-trained tempo; he bobs his neck up and down like a turtle on each syllable, but holds it forward tentatively as if the muscles are atrophying, as Cohn becomes frailer. It’s a credible performance, not remotely campy, but not really anything — there’s nothing here like the perspective on the role as interpreted by, say, the underground theater legend Ron Vawter in his performance piece Roy Cohn/Jack Smith, in which he gave Cohn a shrill, mincing Jewish voice, flaunting the traits most concealed and loathed by his recently deceased subject.

Recognizable figures are a fun challenge for actors, as well as for the hair, makeup, and wardrobe departments tasked with recreating iconic looks that everyone remembers from recent history. This year, election season is also Oscar-movie season, and you can expect some attention from the crafts teams on The Apprentice and maybe Strong or Sherman (one of the many glossy-magazine journalists to enjoy an elevated profile since the Trump years). I’m sure their acceptance speeches will be full of righteous anger directed at the new administration.

PUBLISHED 21 MAY 2024

[book-dragon-13]

For @the-slumberparty week 3 Artistic Liberty creator event

Based off this prompt:

To have and to hold made me think of weddings, and I decided to combine it with a Mafia/Mobster version of your favorite Sebastian Stan character

@navybrat817 @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

[pastelbatfandoms]

I don't see alot of people shifting for Motley Crue (specifically Sebastian Stan as Tommy Lee & Nikki Sixx) or Corey Feldman...don't judge me...or do idc.

I also have a Mobster dr with my cr husband. Inspired by a "past life"

Dr question of the day! What’s an underrated Dr of yours?

I personally have a dr that’s literally based off a dream i had so i know that’s a rare one but what are your underrated or rare drs? It can be as simple or extravagant as you want. It can a book/series/movie that you think a lot of people dont shift to or it can be smth you totally made up yourself. The only qualification needed here is that it’s not a commonly shifted to sort of place

[sebastianstansqueen]

Lost In The Shadows: Part Twelve

A/N: This one is short, sorry, also have began writing my next series, my stuff about that will be up once i'm finished posting this story, hoe you like it, If you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 1,159

Warnings: angst, Guns, Bucky being unaware, Wayne, and Brock if I forgot anything let me know please!

Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Taglist open// 

Tags: @cherryblossomsky- - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond- @leyannrae- @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2write - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel - @sebsgirl71479- @missvelvetsstuff - @hadesownhell - @casa-boiardi- @winterslove1917- @hallecarey1 - @ash-craze - @barnesxstan - @unaxv - @bethexo07 - @itsmytimetoodream - @sebastians-love - @stoneyggirl2  - @ordelixx - @arunabrak

After the stress of being at the hospital worried sick everyday, Y/n had to admit being at her villa in Italy was a nice change from the compound back home. It was also nice that she was able to get Bucky an arm with the thought of mind that money was no object, so she got the best of the best. The best part was it was just her and Bucky, since everyone  back home wanted to keep it hush hush that they were leaving, there wasn’t a security staff always lurking nor did she have any professionals roaming the house like cleaners, and kitchen staff, it felt normal, and she almost didn’t dare say she liked it. 

Currently she sat by the pool, while Bucky was swimming laps, she softly smiled to herself as she thought about it. Tonight they were going to roam the city, starting with an art gallery and then dinner. A lot of this felt so domestic to her and she couldn’t fully hate it. “You okay?” Bucky asked, her eyes opened as she looked at him. “I know you’ve been stressed.” And there was also that, if Bucky remembered he would probably understand the why, because technically you were both in hiding. 

“Bucky, if anything I’m for once not stressed.” She lied through her teeth, she was more stressed than ever before, because they were stuck in a foreign country Bucky had no memory of the Mafia, and for the first time since taking her family business back she wasn’t the one in control of everything, and she hated that. “If anything, I’m excited about tonight, it’s gonna be romantic.” 

As the two of them walked around looking at different paintings, sculpture and other pieces of work. It was nice until a bullet hit one of the paintings, Y/n’s eyes widened. “Get down!” She yelled, she pulled out her own gun that had been tucked away in a secret pouch in her overly big purse, as more bullets came through breaking the glass.

“What the hell is going on?” Bucky asked with wide eyes. 

Y/n looked at him. “Believe me Bucky in another life you’d understand, but for now follow what I do.” She aimed her own gun at the glass ceiling of the building, where she couldn’t see even an outline of a person, she took a deep breath in irritation. “Okay, we’ve gotta get on that roof.” 

“That’s where the bullets came from.” Bucky hissed out. 

Y/n nodded. “I know.” She got up moving, Bucky moved her as she had told him. As people who weren’t dead ran around in panic and fear, and red lights went off with an annoying alarm and people who had gotten shot in the spray of bullets moments earlier laid on the ground crying or dead.  She moved around until she found a roof entrance, she began running up the stairs, when both of them made it up to the roof Y/n found who she was looking for meaning whoever it was wanting to kill her had an open air shot to get her. As Y/n saw it was two people, Sharon and Wayne, Y/n scoffed, wind caused her hair to blow everywhere. “You two have got to be shitting me! You're working together?” 

They both looked at her with wide eyes. “She betrayed Brock, so I'm here for both of you!” Wayne was the first to speak. 

Y/n began to actually laugh. “That’s a good one Wayne, you're working for Rumlow, you're not even stupid enough to do that.” 

“You're the one who’s gonna lose out, Y/n, you are the one who lost doing business with him, and you're gonna die for it.” Wayne smiled wickedly, Y/n noticed he looked different; he'd been bulked up or something. 

“Are you on that fucking staroids he wants to sell on the streets?” She scoffed able to tell, by the obvious side effects. 

“It’s called ‘the serum’.” He said aggressively. 

“Oh, please, all those blue crystals are gonna do for you is kill you eventually.” Y/n was taunting him. 

“Okay that's enough.” Sharron stopped her from continuing. “I’m killing you, and then taking everything you’ve built.” The blond held up a gun at Y/n, making her do the same. 

Y/n, wasn’t aiming for her sister but Wayne, as her finger pressed the trigger Sharons did the same and she ducked down, with Bucky as she watched Wayne fall off the building with blood spreading on his shirt. 

Sharon watched and hurried to follow where he fell, jumping off knowing Y/n was giving her one more chance to get her. Y/n liked a game especially with her sister, so she was willing to play it, if Sharon killed her next time she’d win, only getting one more chance to try again, before Y/n would kill her. Y/n looked at Bucky making sure he was alright, he looked shaken up but no wounds, she helped him up. “Are you okay?” She asked, and he nodded. “Okay come on.” 

When they got back to the villa she began packing everything they had brought, moving as fast as she could.  “Y/n what the hell was that!” Bucky yelled, making her freeze up, stopping what she was doing.

Y/n whipped around. “You're not gonna talk to me like that!” She yelled back. “You're the one who doesn't remember anything, and doesn't know what is going on so you're not gonna yell at me, I’m doing this for your safety, because I care about you.” 

“Explain what’s going on then.” He said with irritation. 

“My sister, who is a skilled assassin, and a guy I refused to do business with are trying to kill me and possibly you, and that’s how we ended up in the hospital I’m assuming, and your don’t remember this because of what you got in the accident, Bucky I’m a mafia boss and so is your brother, but we’ve gotta go if you want to live.” She spoke with pure urgency, she moved up to him, placing her hand in his, she slowly moved in closer to him, kissing him softly. “Bucky, I love you, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, if you come with me I’ll make sure you don’t die.” 

Bucky pulled her closer to him. “I’ll go with you, but be honest with me from now on.” 

Y/n looked at him and nodded. “Okay, for now pack, I’ll figure out where to next.”

_____

Brock shook his head, as Wayne's feed and tracker turned red, he slammed his hand on the desk, a mix of anger and joy. Wayne had been helpful but soon became a pest on his shoulder, he huffed knowing he needed to know Y/n’s next move. He had to be the one to finish her off. 

[minichedders]

st.valentines day massacre 0.1

mobster!bucky barnes x reader

February 14th, 1929.

Gang warfare rules the streets of Chicago, anyone who was anyone knew that if you even whispered the name Al Capone, it wouldn't be long before you were shot or deemed crazy. He was rising to the top of the mafia, he was gradually taking down his enemies, along with the probation, helping him to build his empire, he grew to be a ruthless king. The passage of the 18th Amendment in 1920 meant that all the mafia groups increased earnings through bootlegging, speakeasies, gambling and prostitution. Capone’s income raised well over $60 million a year, he was one of the richest and powerful men in America.

Since 1924, Chicago had been a lawless and violent place; it was called the ‘reign of Scarface’; he was ruthless and did anything and everything to get rid of his enemies and rivals, all except one. The Irish gangster George ‘Bugs’ Moran…

10:25 am.

Your heals clicked along the street, impractical for the cold weather you thought, though your long fur coat was keeping some warmth, under it your favourite green dress. Your dad had convinced you to go round to the Michaels for brunch, however, opposed you where, he practically shoved you out the door, Mr and Mrs Michaels where both pushovers who were pushing you and their introvert son to get married, and apparently your opinion doesn't matter.

10:30 am.

You head tilted back as you admired the white sky, hoping that small snowflakes would soon fall. You loved winter, as it gave you an excuse to stay inside by the fire, and not have to socialise with men and their mothers that boasted about them, or the snobbish wives that had foolishly agreed to marry only because of the money benefits. You believed you were the only person in the city, or world, who wanted to marry for love, not benefits. Before your thoughts could carry you away, a speeding car drove past, abruptly stopping outside an old looking warehouse; what confused you where the three men who exited in police uniforms, and another 5 that stepped out of another car in black suits. Your interest was picked and your walking slowed, you had not yet reached the warehouse, but you could already hear muffled shouts, and a few seconds later, gunshots.

You stood still, mouth agape, even though you shouldn't be so shocked, crime was basically unstoppable in this city. But never would you think that you would have to encounter something so closely. As you where regaining your breath, a man from across the road, someone you had not seen get out the vehicle, even though he was leaning against the bonnet, started walking towards you and calling for you. You froze, not knowing what to do; there was no point in running, not in these heels, plus, he has already seen your face, and knows that you had just seen their faces. Oh, you were so screwed.

“Ma'am?” He called again, his deep voice digging into your skin, making goosebumps crawl along your arms, shivering as they formed. Your head turned back towards him, seeing his face close up, almost losing your breath again; he was beautiful, dark hair, chiselled face, and a tall lean body which looked perfect in that pinstripe suit. If you were in any other situation with the man you would've jumped to joy, finding the perfect Valentines to the day.

Your ears began ringing, buzzing at the sheer closeness of the attractive man, and for a split second you felt as if the rest of the world blurred around him; that was until multiple gun firing in the etching warehouse tore your body limb from limb, panic coursing through your veins like a drug.

“Um, yes?” You said, trying to act as innocent and normal as you could muster, you couldn't die, you couldn't leave your father, not like this. You noticed his gaze drop down your figure, which was noticeably shaking, whether it was from the coldness of winter or the terror that currently ran through your body and soul you were not sure; he looked back into your eyes, the blueness of his reminding of when your father took you to the ocean when you were younger, they almost filled you with warmth, until you heard more calling and shouting.

“Buck! C’mon!” One of the men exiting from the warehouse shouted, making the man in front of you turn his head back, giving them a wave of his hand.

“I’m sorry about this miss, but you are going to have to come with me,” He said, taking a hold of your forearm, gently tugging you to the car; you were too cold and shocked to fight back, and the fear of not knowing what he might do scared you more. Stupidly, you let him push you into the passenger seat, and when he ran round to the driver seat, the three men shoved in the back began clapping, you already felt sick but their whistling and dirty comments made your stomach twist; until than man called Buck told them to shut up, which made you feel less queasy, only just.

11:22 am.

After driving in silence and tension, you arrived at a large house in the forest; the abundance of cars and bikes at the door already told you that this was obviously the mafia house, which only heightened your fear, all the worst possible scenarios where running through your head. You knew that they weren't going to kill you, not yet at least, they wouldn't have bothered to bring you to the house if they were, they were probably going to use you, which terrified you more than a bullet between your eyes.

As the men poured out of the car, you stayed still. The idea of moving seemed almost impossible as you just stared at the big blue house, envisioning all the dirty old men that lived in there, and the possibility of young girls being held unwillingly. A tear started to sting your cheeks as you let out a sob, not noticing the door beside you opening and Buck wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up and carrying you in the house, purposefully avoiding all the busy rooms and corridors. You were still in your dress and coat, which was now slightly damp from the frost and the tears that had fallen on the front, and you could feel your heels slightly slipping off the tips of your feet, although you were now too tired to adjust them. Buck turned into a room, large and messy, and placed you on the bed, slipping the shoes from your feet and neatly placing them on the floor. You both stayed in silence, apart from every so often when your sobs would unwillingly break past your dry lips.

The sight of any women crying made Bucky's heart twinge, but growing up in a ruthless world and business, he knew that if you wanted anything, you took it with no hesitation. And Bucky wanted you from the first moment he laid eyes on you.

"Why am I here, please, I won't tell anyone," You said in between broken cries, bringing your knees to your chest, curling yourself as small as possible; trying to remain an unwilling victim, too scared to look into the man's eyes in case you might slip into a lustful teenager.

"Because you are a witness, how am I supposed to trust a woman that walks the streets of Californa by herself. You are obviously reckless," Bucky replied in a rather harsh tone. He was lying. He just wanted you, to hold and protect forever; he knew he was foolish, how was she ever supposed to love her captor? Bucky sighed deeply, sitting beside her figure, watching as she winced at the gentle touch of his cold fingertips against her back, even with the layers of clothes on, you could still feel the jolt his touch sent to your body. you weren't supposed to react like this. But the longer he kept drawing small patterns on your back, the warmer you felt towards him, relaxing only slightly as the tears stopped flowing down your face. You understood why. 

"How long are you going to keep me here?" You asked, hesitantly, scared of his answer as he took minutes to reply, his fingers now still.

"Until I can trust you," He replied.

"Please, Please, I need to be with my father, he's ill, he can’t live without me," You said, lying. Your father wasn't exactly ill, he was just old, but you were true when saying he relied on you for everything.

"I'll have someone look after him don't you worry princess," Shivers. There it was. The wrong reaction to being nicknamed by a member of an infamous Mafia. You watched his dark, muscular figure rise, walking out the room, leaving with a distinct click, clearly locking the door. You ran around the room, checking the windows, all locked. No weapons, unless you smashed his head with a lamp. But anyway, you knew there was really not any kind of escape. You were in a house full of Mafia members, ruthless and dirty ones at that. You hated to admit it but this room was probably the safest place for a couple of miles. As well as that, if you did manage to escape, you know Bucky would probably go through the ends of the earth just to find you again, and possibly kill you.

Happy Valentine's day to me.

[buckgasms]

"Bunny and Clyde"

I have no excuse for this.

How do we feel about dark!mob!Bucky and dark!crazy!slut!bunny!reader???? Well we're about to find out. I'm really outing myself as a slut here but you already all know this so 🙊

But still.... Damn...

Warnings: mob boss Bucky, mob violence, rough sex, blackmail, pet name (bunny), choking, come play?

It was without a doubt that you were Bucky's favourite girl. You might not currently be his girl, but for sure he favoured you over anyone else at your job.

You were a dancer at Bucky's nightclub, a popular hangout for the rich and infamous in the city. Bucky was certainly one of those, the biggest and baddest in fact. He stopped by the club frequently, and when he did, he always made sure you danced for the biggest tippers and would reserve a seat on his lap for you when he wanted to entertain guests. He would press kisses to your shoulders and pinch and squeeze your soft skin when he talked to you.

That was the extent of it, but you wanted more. Much more. He was gorgeous, strong, powerful and he clearly adored you. So there was no way you were going to let him slip out of your hands for some other girl to sink her claws into. You didn't know how you were going to do it, but that man was going to be yours, whatever it took.

-------------------✨------------------

One evening you found yourself in Bucky's office. He was chatting to some mob type about a deal that had appeared to have gone wrong. Bucky was furious, evident by his leg tapping, bouncing you up and down in his lap and in the way he squeezed at your thighs. The action which had your pussy fluttering as the build of his anger and frustration made you desperate to help him.

Abruptly he motioned you to stand and he pressed a little kiss to your cheek. "Will you stay here and wait for me Bunny? I got some business to deal with..." You nodded and sat down in his comfy leather seat as the two men left the room. You were immediately bored and started spinning the chair and rifling through his desk drawers.

You found a couple of guns which didn't really surprise you, lots of cash and some papers. You also found a little usb stick and you picked it up, fiddling with it until you decided to stick it into the laptop that sat on Bucky's desk. Your heart pounded as you clicked through the files.

Endless evidence of Bucky's misdeeds flashed before your eyes. Nothing that really shocked you, but the fact he had pictures and documents just seemed mad to you. If anyone had this, they'd own Bucky forever.... That had your mind spinning.....

-------------------✨------------------

You decided not to wait in Bucky's office as he had asked and you moved through the club, round the back corridors until you found what you were looking for. The door to the 'Red Room'. No one was allowed in there without Bucky's strict permission, and you certainly didn't have that.

You inched closer to the door and heard the sound of fighting or more like a beating. There were sounds of talking and occasional grunts and you almost turned heel and ran, but you had a mission to finish and that kept you rooted to the spot. You shivered a little in the cold hallway, your skimpy dancers outfit not doing much to keep you warm. Suddenly the door you were creeping behind burst open. The burly guy from Bucky's office was glaring at you and behind him you saw some poor soul bruised and bloodied in a chair in the room.

"What the fuck?" You heard Bucky call out and the man grabbed your arm and dragged you into the room. Bucky's anger was evident and he ran a hand over his face. "Get him outta here" he said quietly and the burly man dragged the man out of the room and left you both standing there alone. You gave him a look over, you couldn't help but feel a rush of lust as you noticed the blood on his knuckles, the rolled up shirt sleeves, the sweat on his brow and the anger in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to interrupt" you offered with a faux innocence that did nothing to calm Bucky's temper. "What the fuck you playing at Bunny?" He spat and you walked towards him. "I could fucking kill you y'know" he raged, grabbing your throat and pressing you up against the wall but you just giggled. "Well that would be a terrible waste wouldn't it?"

Your attitude shocked him into slightly letting loose his grip on your throat but he kept his eyes fixed on you. "Plus, if you did, a copy of your naughty files would end up all over the news... And that would be so sad..." You held up his little usb and waved it in front of him. He narrowed his eyes and let go of you.

"What do you want Bunny?" You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Everything. I want you." He pressed you up against the wall again, and glared at you. "You're telling me, you're willing to risk me throwing you in the Hudson, to be my girlfriend?" You laughed again, fingers smoothing over his shoulders, your legs slotting between his. "Not girlfriend, you cheat on all your girlfriends..." You pouted and he smirked as you ground your heat down on his thigh. "I want to be your Bunny. You're only Bunny. Wanna be spoiled and fucked and make you happy all the time." He pressed his thigh harder and you gasped as the pressure sent pleasure shooting through your core. "Besides, everyone knows I'm your favourite girl, why not make it official?"

He moved in close, his lips brushing yours and you whimpered as he squeezed your throat tight. "Reckon you can handle it Bunny? Think you can manage everything I got to give you?" You captured his lips in a kiss and you nodded making him chuckle darkly, "I don't think you can Bun Bun."

You tugged at his shirt and mewled at him, "I can, I can take it, give it to me Bucky please?" With that he lifted you off the floor and carried you over to a little table and pushed your shivering body to lie down. "Such a stupid little Bunny, all this for some cock huh? Always knew I had a little slut sitting on my lap, didn't take much did it? Have you desperate for me to fuck ya? Think you're so fucking smart huh?" You whimpered and whined as he tore your pretty costume apart, exposing your body to him.

He spread your pussy lips apart and spat harshly on your cunt before using his cock to spread the wetness around. Your eyes widened at his size and you were about to protest when he pushed your chest so you were flat on your back again. "Bunny, you said you wanted everything. Don't be fucking ungrateful now you're getting it..." He sank in, stretching you painfully, making you cry out and claw at him. He stilled until you had adjusted, but he spent the time slapping and pinching your breasts, leaning down and biting at you, kissing you roughly and pinning your hands down on the hard surface.

Your whole body was on fire, everything you ever wanted in this moment. You wanted to laugh and cry all at once. Deciding to rile him even more you pulled him into a kiss, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood before rolling your hips. "Are you just gonna lie here panting on top of me, or are you gonna fuck me?" He barked out a laugh before gripping your throat again and starting to pound into your cunt with no mercy. You cried out and filled the dark room with your begs and pleas as he hit every spot in you perfectly.

"Fuck bunny, so fucking tight" he strained and tightened his grip on your throat until your face turned pink. "Taking me so goddam well... Jesus always knew you'd be a good girl for me..." He rubbed your clit with his thumb and you desperately gasped for air as pleasure streaked through your body, down to the tips of your toes. He growled as you squeezed him but he managed to hold himself in check. "Get on your fucking knees Bunny" he ordered and dragged you as you scrambled to kneel at his feet.

You grabbed his cock and helped him jerk it off over your pretty face, sucking at the sensitive head, making him groan as you licked him up and down until he pulled you away. He rubbed the come into your face and pushed some into your greedy mouth and you sucked hard on his fingers, happily swallowing them and letting him choke you a little with them. He looked at you and you grinned up at him, "told ya" you teased as you clung to his thigh and kissed his cock one more time.

"You tryna kill me Bunny?"

[holylulusworld]

Mobster!Bucky Barnes series masterlist

Masterlist for all  Mobster!Bucky Barnes series

Legend status: ❌ on hiatus // ❗ ongoing // ✔ complete // 🆕 upcoming // 🖊 rewrite

Consolation Bride Masterlist ✔ feat. Steve Rogers

Rooms masterlist ❗

Angel and her protectors masterlist ❗ multiple chars

Soft Spot masterlist ❗

Deranged Marriage masterlist ✔

Barnes vs Barnes masterlist ✔ feat. Steve Rogers

Indifferent Masterlist ❗

Their little maid masterlist ❗ feat. Nick Fowler

Sewer rat masterlist 🆕 feat. Tony Stark

Bucky & Ducky Masterlist 🆕

Read more here: Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Masterlist

Divider by me *for my blog use only*  

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

mob!bucky being submissive that is all

Fix My Shoes

Pairing || Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Word Count || Around 250

Contents & Warnings || Implied Smut — 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names (babe, doll, princess), slight sub!bucky, implied oral (f receiving).

Authors Note || Hmm ok I loved the little thot I posted about Bucky being a subby little bitch for his princess but idk how subby this piece actually is because I’m not used to writing sub!bucky. But this is the first thing that popped in my head. I still think it’s fucking HOT! This was quickly written and not proofread, but I hope people enjoy regardless :D

Mob!Bucky Masterlist

You and your husband were getting ready to go out to dinner with some friends. You each stood on your designated His & Hers side of the vast walk-in closet, dressing up in luxurious clothes and accessories.

You opted for a little black dress with expensive jewellery and cute black heels. You slid into the shoes, and it seemed such work to bend down and do them up, but you knew someone who would be more than happy to help.

“Babe.”

“Yes, doll.”

He turned around at the sound of your voice as he fixed his collar on the white shirt.

“Fix my shoes?” You held up your leg elegantly as you batted your eyelashes at him.

“Anything for you, princess.”

He smirked as he got down on one knee before you, caressing your calves. The touch made you shiver, and an inaudible moan escaped. He left delicate kisses on your exposed thigh, making your stomach soar with tingling butterflies, as he did up one shoe and then switched sides to do the other.

You ran your hand through his short hair while he fixed your shoes. With each kiss to your tender skin, your core pulsated, wanting those kisses as well.

“Anything else princess wants?” He asked once he finished.

“Hmm, there is one more thing,” with your hand at the back of his head, you guided him towards your core, wanting to exploit more of his kind and generous nature, “if there’s time.”

“I always have time to please my princess.”

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

If people want to send some more thots please feel free to do so 👀 Maybe some of them will inspire me to write or include them in a longer fic! If not I will write something very short and quick or give you my opinion on the topic 🖤

[aya-fay]

At gunpoint

Name: At gunpoint part I

Author: Aya-Fay

Fandom: Captain America

Pairing: Mobster!Sebastian Stan x fem!Reader; platonic Chris Evans x fem!Reader

Summary: There have always been threats and hatred, and it has never stopped us.

Warnings: attemped shooting

Status: In-progress

My Sebastian Stan’s masterlist and My Main Masterlist

Part II of this series may be found here: At gunpoint part II

There is no such thing as a good morning. Y/N knew this firsthand.

Even now, when everything was finally turning out in her favor, the morning concealed a devilish trick that threatened to become a real disaster if she ignores it. Y/N carefully slipped out from under the covers so as not to wake the sleeping man by her side and went into the bathroom, where she hastily washed herself and tried to collect her thoughts somehow.

Dressed into her best outfit, she quietly left the house and greedily took a breath of fresh air, not fully understanding at what point exactly her life went awry. Was it when she was thrown jail for something she didn’t do or when she agreed to work for Scarlett she had no clue. The only thing she was certain about is that she was so fucking stuck in a huge mess and if only she could turn back the time she would strike Scarlett in her impudent face and leave.

The phone vibrated in her pocket, and Y/N hailed a taxi, giving the address of a small street cafe where she was already awaited. If she knew that her life would soon take another unexpected turn for the worse, she would never leave her house that morning.

“I am sorry for being late, Miss Johansson” Y/N said as she sat down at a table directly across from a thin woman dressed in a business suit, consisted of a dark red silk blouse tucked into an overly tight black leather skirt. The redhead was slowly drinking her coffee and reading the newspaper, as if she was in no hurry to go anywhere and was not expecting anyone, but the appearance of Y/N clearly inspired her.

Scarlett looked up from her newspaper and glanced at the young woman with sharp cold eyes.

She smiled, but her smile was empty deprived of any trace of emotions and warmth and held out her hand. Y/N was surprised at this gesture, but shook hands in return nonetheless. “No worries, Miss Evans,” Scarlett replied, and Y/N winced.

Since when did she become “Miss Evans” for this devil woman? For the last months she only been called slave or toy. Nothing else. Literally. Can it be that an expensive coat and her blue cashmere jumper really changed her view into other people’s eyes?

Even though the morning has just officially started, people were already in a hurry to get to work. Some of them were taking their time having their breakfast. Y/N looked around, feeling uncomfortable sitting in the sun, in an open area at the busiest time. She could feel shivers running down her spine, which was never a good sign. She ordered coffee in a somewhat somehow constrained way and clamped, just to blend in with the rest of the customers.

“What did you want to discuss?” She immediately got down to business, not wanting to drag out this meeting for longer than necessary. “I am all ears.”

“The time has come.” Y/N raised her eyebrows in surprise. She knew that time was slowly sinking through her fingers, but she was not ready to betray him so soon. Her nerves were on the edge. An extremely dangerous state of mind.

“And what do you want now?” She asked Scarlett and smiled at the waitress when she brought her coffee. “Thank you.”

As soon as the girl left, Scarlett came straight up to Y/N’s face and whispered something in her ear. “Give me all the information you’ve collected.”

The girl felt how her fingers curled tightly around the cup. Suppressed anger, resentment and rage were slowly bursting out onto the surface. “Not now” She said and stared into the amused redhead’s eyes.

Scarlett laughed then abruptly stopped and dangerously low said narrowing her eyes. “Remember who you are talking to, pet. Your life depends on me. You don’t look like a person who was offered bigger amount of money...  Oh no…Don’t tell me that my slave suddenly became attached to the man in her bed? How mane has been in his place?”

Y/N gritted her teeth angrily and looked away. She was sick of this Scarlett’s habit of showing her superiority over others, even sicker than when Sebastian did it. Stan’s superiority over others come out more natural,  elegant and organic, while Scarlett’s superiority seemed fake, poisonous and vile.

“Don't think that if we're in public and you are my mistress that will save you from being punched in your pretty face.” She outburst, collecting for the punch that never came. Scarlett just chuckled, perfectly aware that no strength was going to happen out of this threat. Her located nearby people would stop Y/N when she would just raise her hand. People like Johansson were never alone.

“Just remember…” Scarlett said as she stood up, buttoned up her coat and was about to leave. “Getting attached to Stan is your biggest mistake that will destroy you. One way or another. Whether it would be me who kills you or him.”

Left alone, Y/N drank her coffee, then got up and threw some money on the table and went home.

Returning home she cautiously opened the door, took off her coat and shoes and went into the bedroom. Sebastian rolled over onto the bed, pulled the blanket to his chest, but he did not look absent-minded or disheveled, he was clearly awake and even cleaned himself up.

“I betrayed you” Y/N said. Simple as that and with no warning. There was no way to prepare someone for such truth reveal.

“I know” Sebastian replied just as simply, not surprised at all.

“For how long?”

“For quite a long time. I was just wondering if you decide to confess or not.” Said Sebastian pulling out a hand with a gun clamped in it from under the blanket. Sebastian’s eyes were filled with sadness, even grief, and Y/N made no attempt to escape or defend herself.

“Sorry,” she shrugged and chuckled a little. “You will find a flash drive with everything I collected in the pocket of your yesterday's jacket. There are if not everything, then a lot. And…Aim for the head, not the heart.” She whispered, looking straight into the blue eyes.

Then there was a shot.

TBC

[steelbluehome]

The Wrap

The Apprentice’ Review: Donald Trump Movie Starring Sebastian Stan Plays Like a Tragic Frankenstein Tale (click for article)

Cannes 2024: With Stan as a young Trump and Jeremy Strong as lawyer Roy Cohn, the film is amusing at times and disturbing at others

STEVE POND May 20, 2024 @ 10:05 AM

There’s not much in Ali Abbasi’s filmography to make you think that he’d want to make a movie about a young Donald Trump and his mentor Roy Cohn. But there’s a lot in the Iranian-born, Copenhagen-based filmmaker’s work to suggest that if he did make such a movie, it could be both fascinating and terrifying.

And in a way, “The Apprentice,” which premiered in the Main Competition at the Cannes Film Festival on Monday, is both of those things. It’s a true-life horror story in some ways, and Abbasi approaches it as a Frankenstein tale in which the mad doctor creates a monster and then loses control of it. But after years of Trump imitations (and the real thing), it also can’t help but feel a little cartoonish, and maybe not the best use of the director’s particular talents.

Abbasi’s feature debut was a 2016 horror film about surrogacy; his second was the 2018 Cannes sensation “Border,” which drew screams and squeals with its scene of troll sex; and his third was the visceral drama “Holy Spider,” about a real-life case in which an Iranian serial killer who preyed on sex workers and was applauded by many in the conservative society.

To put that skill set – an uncompromising, often dark vision, a taste for horror and an outsider’s perspective – in the service of a film about the young would-be mogul and the conniving lawyer who taught him how to win at all costs wasn’t a sure thing by any means, but it was awfully intriguing.

And to call that film “The Apprentice,” swiping that title from the TV show that helped give Trump the profile to run for president, suggested a sense of humor that might be necessary to survive this particular project.

There’s humor in the film, mostly in the knowing chuckles elicited when a key moment of the Trump bio clicks into place:

Here’s where Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong) introduces Trump (Sebastian Stan) to Rupert Murdoch and says “he could really help you” … here’s a young Roger Stone showing Trump a Ronald Reagan campaign button that says, “Let’s Make American Great Again” … Here’s Cohn taking Trump clothes shopping and advising him on the kind of suits that will help hide his “big ass.”

These are the building blocks of the Trump we think we know, with the movie’s opening title card saying that the film is “based on real events” but also includes fictionalized elements. And make no mistake, if Trump and his supporters get any idea of what’s in “The Apprentice,” the cries of “fake news!” will be resounding, because this semi-biopic begins with mockery and ends with dread.

At the start of the film, which adopts a 1970s style for its shots of the New York City of that era, Trump is a guy who trudges door to door in a rundown apartment building (“Trump Village”) built by his father, collecting rent checks from struggling tenants who clearly don’t like him.

In New York City, meanwhile, Trump has been admitted to an exclusive private club, where he regales a date with descriptions of the powerful men who surround them. “Why are you so obsessed with these people?” she asks, and he offers a weak “I’m not obsessed, I’m just curious” defense that isn’t enough to keep her from heading to the powder room and then out the door.

From the next room in the club, an imperious lawyer Roy Cohn invites the poor guy to come sit at the table Cohn is sharing with a couple of mobster clients and some other people he deems unworthy of introduction. Everybody at the table laughs at Trump, with his timid manner and his order of ice water — but if the young Donald is essentially presented as a socially awkward, vaguely pathetic wannabe unable to get out from under a domineering father, Cohn sees something he likes in the little bit of empty bravado Trump can summon up.

“I like the kid,” he says at one point. “I feel sorry for him.”

Or maybe he sees something he can mold in the clueless waif with family money. Cohn, who was instrumental in sending convicted spies Julius and Ethel Rosenberg to the electric chair in the 1950s, spouts “America first” speeches that are echoed in Trump’s stump rhetoric to this day. And he offers his three rules for winning: “attack attack attack,” “admit nothing, deny everything” and “no matter what happens, claim victory and never admit defeat.”

Strong nails a certain blank, slack-jawed, morally vacant look that Cohn had, even if he’s hardly a dead ringer for the vicious fixer who dropped homophobic slurs and insisted until the end that he was dying of liver cancer rather than AIDS. Stan has a tougher job of it — because despite the makeup and hair, it’s impossible to compete with the real thing that has dominated media for the past decade.

The movie essentially shows Trump learning to lie, ineptly wooing his first wife, Ivana (Maria Bakalova), building the Commodore Hotel and Trump Tower, making an ill-advised foray into Atlantic City and gulping diet pills to keep himself going. It’s the construction of the Trump persona, with help from the slimy advisor who has the keys to “winning.”

And it’d play like a tragedy if we didn’t know what happened after the movie ends. The movie has the feel of a rise-and-fall saga, with Trump growing increasingly unhinged and out of control — and with Stan increasingly adopting the vocal and physical mannerisms we see on social media and the news today. It’s most horrifying — and most Abbasi-like — in an extended scene that cuts between a memorial service for Cohn and Trump on the operating table getting liposuction and a scalp reduction, all set to the strains of “My Country Tis of Thee.”

That sequence might be the one that makes the most of Abbasi’s uncompromising gifts, and suggests that the director’s heart might be in a truly wild movie not quite so tethered to biographical details. “The Apprentice” is amusing at times and disturbing at others, but it’s hard not to think that Ali Abbasi could have done something weirder, wilder and more satisfying if he’d found a way to bring in more magic and less MAGA.