#steve rogers mafia au

[thatdarkfanficstuff]

Flutter - Chapter Two

Pairing: Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader

Enjoy!

It took nearly a week for Tony to get the nerve to broach the topic with your family. While you and Peter were old enough to have lives of your own, Pepper liked you all to have dinner together as often as possible. You hadn’t thought anything of it when she requested a family meal, but perhaps you should have. You couldn’t remember the last time it had been so silent in the house. Something was bothering Tony and you all knew it was better to just let him stew until he decided it was time to talk.

Finally, he interrupted the rhythmic clinking of silverware with a sigh as he sat his fork down. He took a long drink of his wine. “Alright. It’s time to talk.” His gaze swept over the table before landing on Peter. “I had meeting with Rogers. He wants assurances of our loyalties.”

Peter snorted and rolled his eyes. “What? He wants us to swear an oath or something?”

Tony pursed his lips. “No. He wants Roman to marry Morgan.”

Well, you hadn’t expected that. It was rather medieval of him. Huh. You wondered why Tony agreed to it. Steve must have been angrier than usual. A glance at Pepper showed she’d already been aware and she wasn’t happy. You leaned back in your chair and watched as your overdramatic brother jumped to his feet. His chair scraped against the tile.

“No fucking way, Tony. You can’t just sell her off like property.”

Morgan’s lips were pressed into a thin line but she said nothing, letting Peter fight her battles like usual. She had a mouth but not around your father. No, when Tony was around, she was the perfect angel.

“Watch your mouth in front of your mother,” Tony automatically corrected Peter. “And sit down.”

When he hesitated, Tony lifted a brow. “Now.”

Once Peter had dropped back into his chair, Tony leaned forward. “This is business. Morgan doing her part for the family.”

Peter’s jaw clenched, his face contorted in his anger. “There has to be another way. Roman’s a raging asshole.”

You huffed a laugh. Well, that was true enough. Tony shot you a chastising look before putting his attention back on the family hothead.

“Enough, Peter. This is the price to be paid for your indiscretions. Rogers fears you’re reaching above your station. Making us family is his was to secure your allegiance. Stop pissing in other people’s pools and we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

Your brother visibly slumped in his seat with the admonishment. He’d been warned more times than you could count about his temper but now his beloved little sister was paying the price. That had to be a harsh blow for him. Sucks to suck, you guess.

You sipped your wine and waited for everything to finish playing out. You’d fix this just like you always did.

Morgan’s fingers clutched the stem of her water glass. Her wide eyes darted between your parents before flicking over to Peter. He gave her a subtle nod, telling her to speak up. “Roman is older than me. And he has a reputation. Everyone knows what he’s like.”

“Your point?” Tony prodded. Pepper laid a hand on his arm reminding him to be patient.

Morgan swallowed. “He sleeps with anything that moves. And he’s always starting fights. He’s mean. I hate him.”

“A lot of people hate their spouses, princess. You’ll get used to it.” Tony lifted Pepper’s hand and kissed the back of it to assure her she was an exception.

You outright laughed at the insulted expression on your sister’s face. When Tony glanced at you, you smirked. “That was kind of harsh, Dad.”

Tony leaned back and mirrored your smirk. “And what do you have to add to the conversation, sweetheart?”

Morgan huffed in irritation at the tone he used when he addressed you. Your relationship with your father was drastically different than hers. For one you had over a decade on her sixteen years. For another you were around before anyone else, even Pepper. He adopted you when the parents you didn’t remember died in a crash. For years it was just the two of you. And you were the one he trained to take over the company. Your dynamic was completely different.

“Did our illustrious king of the city ever actually state which daughter he wanted?”

You didn’t miss the hope that flashed on the rest of your family’s faces save Tony. Once again, you were offering a solution to their problems. You were good at it. Its why your dad wanted you to take over despite Peter sharing his creative interests.

Tony’s gaze turned calculating. “He didn’t specify,” he admitted after a moment. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out where you were going with this. You didn’t want to marry Roman any more than Morgan did.

“Interesting.” You ran a finger along the fabric of the tablecloth as you thought. “Then perhaps it should be me.”

He immediately shook his head in denial. “Absolutely not. You’re too valuable for me to turn over to Rogers.”

Morgan’s chair scraped against the floor, her voice a blend of anger and pain. “And I’m not?”

“That’s not what he meant, baby,” Pepper said in an attempt to soothe the hurt.

You turned your attention to your little sister. “You’re his princess. Trust me, he figured he had four years or so to find you a way out of it. He won’t have that luxury with me. Besides, he doesn’t want to go through the effort of training anyone else to take over for him.”

After a confirming nod from her father, Morgan calmed and sat back down.

“I can take over for him,” Peter said.

Tony blinked at him. “No.”

You grinned at Pete’s annoyance. Tony’s dark eyes met yours in a silent standoff, willing you to give in. But if there was one thing you’d gotten from your father, it was your stubbornness. With a resigned sigh, he gave the nod that sealed Roman’s fate. Steve Rogers would get more than he’d counted on when he made this deal.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

Peter’s grip tightened on his fork, knuckles going white. He looked ready to protest on your behalf now but a glance in your direction kept him in his seat. Smart boy.

Tony lifted his glass. “To the future Mrs. Carter.” He drained his wine with a sour expression.

You crinkled your nose in annoyance. “No. I don’t like it. He’ll become a Stark.”

Pepper chuckled. “You think you can order Roman Carter to take your name and he’ll just do it?”

You shrugged one shoulder. “No, but Rogers can. I’ll make it part of the contract.”

“Contract?” Peter asked.

“Like Daddy said, it’s a business transaction. I’ll have everything written out and signed before I even think of walking down the aisle.”

Your brother tilted his head to study you. “You have this all figured out don’t you?”

“Not all of it. Not yet, but I will.”

***

You drove yourself to the Rogers estate the next day. You parked on the curved drive in front of the house. The front door opened before you even reached it. A man you recognized as Sam Wilson leaned against the frame making no secret of taking in your form from head to toe. Evidently liking what he saw, he grinned. You couldn’t help but return the smile. He was so pretty after all.

“And how can I help you today, pretty lady?”

“Would you please inform Mr. Rogers that Tony Stark’s daughter is here to see him?”

A look of surprise flashed across his face before he gestured for you to step inside. He shut the door behind you. “Wait here.”

Left alone in the entrance hall, you surveyed your surroundings. The house was nice but cold. You saw none of the little touches that would make it a home instead of a showpiece. You weren’t impressed.

Sam reappeared with a smile. “This way,” he said with a gesture.

The door he led you to was only a short distance down the hall. He opened it without knocking and motioned for you to enter, remaining in the hall when he closed the door. Your gaze ran across the expanse of soft leather and dark wood. Books lined the walls and Steve Rogers sat at a large desk with his head bent over papers as he read.

You were content to remain silent and use the opportunity to size him up. You’d seen him before, of course, but typically from a distance. His blue suit jacket hung on the rack behind his desk. He wore a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up showing a couple of tattoos on his forearms. His shoulders were broader than you would have guessed but it was his hands that drew your eyes as he made a note in the margin of his work.

He glanced up as he finished and his double-take had you smiling. He tossed the pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair as he looked you over. If Sam was pretty, Steve Rogers was gorgeous. His neatly trimmed beard had you wanting to run your fingers through it before you traced his soft lips. You shook your head slightly. What. The. Fuck. What was wrong with you? It wasn’t like you to fall for a handsome face. At least not so quickly. You cleared your throat which seemed to snap Rogers out of whatever daze he was in as well.

“You’re not sixteen,” he said by way of greeting.

“I am not,” you agreed before introducing yourself. “The eldest Stark daughter.”

He hummed. “I forgot Tony had two girls.” He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.

You sat, leaning forward in anticipation of the coming conversation. “I’m to inform you that as you didn’t specify, I will be the one marrying your son.”

“Stepson,” he corrected automatically before running his eyes over you again. The weight of his gaze felt like a physical caress and you suppressed a shiver.

You waited for any hint of surprise or disapproval, but he just continued to look at you with an intensity that suggested he was seeing more than a Stark daughter or a future daughter-in-law. He was as if he saw you—as if you were the only person in the world that mattered. And wasn’t that a heady feeling. Despite the reason for your presence, you couldn’t help but wonder about the man sitting across from you and this connection that sparked to life in mere seconds.

“Why you instead of Morgan?” Steve finally asked.

“To be blunt, Mr. Rogers, Roman is an asshole. Most of the time I won’t give a shit what he does. But if he crosses me I will put him place without hesitation.”

His eyes lingered on your face, taking in every contour as if committing it to memory. Then, slowly, a smile dawned upon his features. A smile of recognition, perhaps even respect. “Understood. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Stark’s daughter.”

“Very well then,” you said as you stood. “We’ll arrange a time for us to get together and go over the specifics.”

***

Steve nodded and watched as you moved to leave. You paused at the door to give one last glance over your shoulder and he huffed out a breath as you shut the door behind you. His shoulders slumped as tension flowed from him and he ran a hand down his face. Holy shit. You were not at all what he was expecting when Sam announced your arrival.

The air seemed cooler now, or perhaps it was simply the absence of your presence. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a visceral reaction to a woman. He stood and went to the window with the best view of the drive. You slid behind the wheel of your car without noticing him. A smirk played on his lips, his thoughts on the fire behind your eyes, a testament to your spirit. Steve admired that—more than he should given the circumstances.

“Trouble,” he muttered. You were going to bring so much chaos. The thought should be unwelcome, but it was anything but. Roman wouldn’t know what to do with you. But Steve…

Steve could think of so many wonderful, fabulous things he would like to do with you.

[myfictionaldreams]

Seven // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: One week is all it takes for your world to come crashing down. Even though you could have everything you'd ever wanted, for some reason, something isn't right. Will your emotions and the smothering of overprotective Stucky come to an end?

Prompt: please read my 'origin' fics last hope (Ch 1) (Ch 2) for some reader backstory.

Requested by: 2 x requests mixed together. @hellsenthero for the safeword use, subdrop + lots of angst/comfort & anon with very overprotective Stucky. I hope you both enjoy, this gets quite intense so be ready!

Warnings (PLEASE READ): injuries, blood, safe word use, discussion of m*rder, severe panic attack. Not by the main characters: threats of abuse, unconsenting face touching, derogatory, misogony, slut shaming

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst (!), Overprotective (!), Dom/Sub, threesome, hurt/comfort, possessive, sir kink, oral (f + m recieving), squirting, subdrop, crying, anal, double penetration, praise kink, begging, rough sex, aftercare (sorry if i've missed any lmao)

Words: 9k (it's a long one!)

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

One week. Seven days.

Not a significant amount of time for most in the grand scheme of a lifetime. How much could change in a single week? Everything it seemed and yet nothing at all.

A week of not acting like yourself. Days filled with conflicting thoughts between overreacting and not having the energy to emote. Excuses became your best friend. Maybe it was because you were due to start your period; perhaps it was a mental breakdown. Who knows?

There was never a day that you EVER doubted your love for Steve Rogers and James Barnes. The term soulmates didn’t even come close to how much you loved these men. The loves of your life. Saving you from a lifetime of pain, saving you from yourself. There would never be a day that you weren’t grateful for these men, and every day, you tried to show them your appreciation with love and affection.

Yes, you were still human. There were days when you couldn’t even cope with their assertive overprotectiveness. Yes, it was for your benefit; they loved you as much as you loved them. Scared of losing you, cautious of the horrible life and background that they’d saved you from. Their job as heads of the Rogers Mafia was rifled with dangers, violence, and death. There was always a target on their backs and anyone they encountered. The list was endless as to why Steve and Bucky acted as they did.

For years, there was nothing but appreciation for this way of life. The dangers that surrounded every second were always at an arm's length away from you as you lived a comfortable, loving life with the men you loved.

Steve and Bucky were renowned for their protection of you. Going to extreme lengths to make sure you were safe. This ranged from 24/7 security, personal bodyguards always by your side unless they were there, and weapons hidden throughout your home that you had been thoroughly trained on just in case.

Next were the verbal and physical threats Steve and Bucky would give those who dared to look at you for more than 5 seconds. People died. MANY people had been killed, as a matter of fact, in the line of duty, love and a little bit of crazy. The lines that were crossed to make sure you were safe had no boundaries.

Except on these small occasions. Just one week for your patience to lose all hope.

MONDAY

It had been a calm day for you. You complete chores at home until you’re satisfied while your boyfriends are at work, making money and continuing to prove they own Brooklyn. You wanted to treat them to something special and decided to cook a hearty meal and have a romantic dinner.

The table was decorated with candles and fresh flowers from the garden. Even your dog Dodger was handsome in his blue and red bowtie around his neck. He sat his head on his paws, watching you chop vegetables.

“What do you think Dodger? Does Mama move well?” you ask him whilst shaking your hips in time with the song playing on the radio. The rottweiler’s head tilts as if to say you’re really going to ask me that?

“Fine, maybe I can’t dance, but I can cook; if you’re good, you’ll get some of the meat scraps”. Dodgers ears perk up at this, and you can’t help but grin down at your baby, “Of course, you’re going to be a good boy, you’re always my good boy- OW SHIT!”

The pain is intense, and the burn radiates from the centre of your palm. Blood, that's all you see at first. The crimson drips from the end of the knife in your hand before it clutters onto the cutting board.

“Honey, we’re home!” Bucky hollered from the front door.

You couldn’t reply. Utterly frozen and helpless as more drips continued to coat the surface. This is how you die from chopping vegetables. You’ll be the laughing stock of the infamous mafia leader’s lover dies from cutting a carrot.

Dodger, ever the inquisitive boy, began to bark hysterically, running out of the kitchen towards Steve and Bucky, jumping up at them, biting onto their clothes and pulling in the direction of the kitchen. He’d been trained for moments like this to protect and alert if you’re in danger.

“What is it, Dodger? Where is she- Fuck! Bucky, get the first aid kit. Baby, let me see.” Steve’s hand's cup yours, pressing firmly against the area that was now throbbing and you couldn’t help but hiss as the sting intensified. “I know it hurts, but I need to stop it bleeding”, he explains whilst coaxing you toward the sink.

With surprising gentleness for such a big hunk of a man, Steve washed your hand, able to inspect the wound as Bucky appeared to your other side with the first aid box opened and ready.

“It’s not deep enough to need stitches, thankfully, but I’m going to need to press on it for a couple of minutes to stop it bleeding”. Nodding your head in response to Steve, you lean against his body, finding comfort in his warmth and firm body.

“I guess that’s the last time you try and do anything romantic, huh, Doll?” Tilting your head toward Bucky, you glare hard at his joke as he sticks out his bottom lip in a pout. “Oh, I love it when you try and look angry with me; you look so damn cute”, he finishes his teasing with a bop at the end of your nose with his finger.

“Bucky, stop being a jerk”, Steve chastises as you hide your face in his chest.

“I just wanted to make you both a nice meal”, your voice muffled against Steve’s white shirt.

“As much as we appreciate the sentiment, maybe use the precut carrots next time, yeah?” Knocking your shoulder against Steve’s chest, he laughs and kisses your cheek as an apology for his joke.

Your hand is then thoroughly wrapped in a bandage, probably more than necessary, and you’re nudged to sit at the table while they continue cooking the meal you’d planned. Guilt settled uneasily in your stomach. It was meant to be a pleasant surprise for them, but now they’re left clearing up after you.

Dodger came over, licking at your uninjured hand, begging for pets you’re more than happy to give him as you contemplated how to make up for your mistake.

However, Steve and Bucky had other ideas as they took it upon themselves to ensure you were effortlessly cared for to the point that they refused to allow you to cut up your food or feed yourself, cuddling you into Bucky’s lap as he fed you. Next, they’re undressing you slowly, carefully and tenderly, bathing you, being careful of your injury, and ending the day with enough orgasms to have your mind fuzzy and body sated.

 You were treated to the care and attention you were used to, and Steve and Bucky did not complain once. In fact, they had smiles on their faces, and they enjoyed looking after you, which is where your conundrum occurs. Sometimes, the overprotective attentiveness verged on being smothering.

TUESDAY

It did not end. You’re washed, dressed, and hair combed by them. Even lifting the damn spoon for your cereal to your mouth.

“I can use a spoon; I’m not incapable of everything!”

All you’re given in response from Bucky is a soft smile, his eyes flicking across your face like he’s trying to memorise every pore, and then once more, he continues to feed you. “I like looking after you like this”.

“What, like a baby?” you ask in a monotone voice.

“You know exactly what I mean” he rolls his eyes playfully but doesn’t stop.

You knew he was trying to be innocent and caring, but for some reason, this time, it was hitting you the wrong way. One small mistake, and now you aren’t even trusted to do anything for yourself? Maybe it was because you were irritable, as they were only being nice to you, but something didn’t feel right. You need a breath or moment to be independent, but for today, you let it go, thinking it would all be back to normal by tomorrow.

WEDNESDAY

There was never a single complaint when it came to sex. They worshipped every inch of your body. Your trust in them was never-ending, especially in your most vulnerable positions. They both knew you better than you knew yourself in those intimate times.

When you need soft, they will give you love and gentleness. When you needed a more brutal, rougher fuck, they would absolutely be up for the job, which is why in the different situations and scenes played out in the bedroom, you all used the traffic light system for safe words. What might be right for one person doesn’t always suit the others.

It wasn’t even like you used the word ‘red’ often, but today, you needed it just because of your uncomfortable position. Kneeling over the back of the chair, Steve had one hand roughly gripping your hip as he fucked you from behind, blinding you with the pleasure pulsing in your cunt from his engorged cock. The other hand was in your hair, pushing you towards Bucky’s cock as he fucked your mouth.

It was perfect, hard and highly satisfying. Until Steve lifts your right leg, trying to rest your knee on the arm of the chair, giving himself more room to push his cock deeper. However, the angle at which he lifted your leg had a sharp pain shooting through your hip joint as it clicked.

Tapping your hand three times on the back of the chair, the pressure on the back of your head eased as Bucky’s cock slips out of your mouth as you rush out the word “Red”.

There’s instant relief as Steve moves away, allowing you to lower your leg and rub the sore area that had clicked. The leg wasn’t dislocated; it was just a bad angle and horrible timing.

“Did I hurt you? Christ, baby, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to”, Steve begs as he hovers behind you, looking helplessly down.

“I just- need a minute”, you say, trying to catch your breath enough to explain what had happened. The muscles around your hip ached, but nothing more as your breathing slowed enough that you could look up and try and give a reassuring smile. You hated how they both appeared terrified, glancing between your hip and face. “It’s fine; I just twinged my hip a little. Maybe if we just move positions or something so I’m not kneeling”, you suggest whilst trying to stand, but wince when the soreness returns to your hip.

Steve’s eyes are almost bulging out of his head, and he is concerned as he shakes his head, leaning down to lift you into his strong arms. “Absolutely not; I’m taking you to the hospital. I could have broken your hip; I’m not risking it”.

Gripping his cheeks, you force him to look at you while trying to remain calm and stern. “Steve, stop! It’s fine; it was just a little twinge. I’m not going to the hospital. Nothing is broken; I would have told you if it was, and you’d never break me.”

Steve didn’t look convinced as he carefully settled your body into the centre of the bed, his calloused hand lowering over your body until resting over your right side. “You don’t know that. I could have dislocated your hip or something.”

Moving your leg to emphasise that this much damage hadn’t happened to your hip, you comb your fingers through his blonde hair to soothe him. “Steve, please stop overreacting. I’m not going anywhere. I’m fine”.

Bucky suggested, “If you won’t go to the hospital, then I’m still going to call Doctor Banner to come and check you over. There could be a trapped nerve or-”

“No! You aren’t listening to me. Please, will both of you just stop? I don’t want to go to the hospital, and I don’t want the Doctor to come and see me. It was a little twinge and nothing more. I’m perfectly well.” The blonde and brunette exchanged an uncertain glance but thankfully didn’t say anymore.

It was safe to say the pleasurable mood was thoroughly out of the window as they began to tentatively and extra carefully give you aftercare. Cleaning you up, ensuring you’d had something to eat and drink and wearing comfortable clothes. One of them continued to touch you at all times, even as you fell asleep, stroking over your back and massaging any aches and pains away.

THURSDAY

Usually, after an emotional night, you’re feeling needy, but today, you’re withdrawn, potentially experiencing a subdrop where your emotions are heightened and vulnerable.

If you thought Tuesday Steve and Bucky were constantly at your side, this took smothering to a whole new meaning. Even when going to the bathroom, one was there to ensure you were okay, to the point where you stopped answering and continued with your day. It was too much, and it wasn’t like you meant to push them away, but you just needed space, a moment, a second, to catch your breath. It was like you were drowning with the want to be ok, but being constantly reminded that you weren’t made it more difficult to recover.

Your friends who had children would always speak about those moments when they’re overstimulated with touch by these kids. No matter how much they love them, it becomes too much when someone constantly needs to be on you at all times of the day. This was exactly how you felt. You love them with all your heart, but it becomes too much.

By the time the sun had set over your home, you were hardly conversing with either of your boyfriends, which had them both tense. Deep lines were imbedded between their brows; fists clenched to stop from wringing their fingers together. Some of you felt sad and guilty even for pushing them away, especially when it came to bed, and you wanted to spoon a pillow rather than one of them. 

FRIDAY

Due to their lifestyle, there were days when they could stay at home and others when they were needed at work. Today, they were needed at work and for a change of scenery, you wanted to join them, which had never been an issue before. Especially after the last few days with your emotions all over the place, you just wanted some normality with the two men you loved.

“Wait, what do you mean I have to stay here?” you ask in a state of shock, feet planted into your living room carpet.

The men share a look you’d seen multiple times this week already. Where no words are shared, but enough was said for you to read between the lines. The mafia leader stepped forward, all towering and handsome in his suit, enough to distract you momentarily. Especially as his big hands cup your face, tilting it back so that he can kiss you enough to take your breath away. As he pulls away, you’re lifting onto the tips of your toes for more.

His hands remain framing your face as he explains, “We just think it would be best for you to stay here and get some rest, that’s all. There’s also an important meeting today with some unkind people, and we’d rather you stay here where it’s safe.”

You sigh exasperatedly, holding onto his wrists to keep him in front. “But there are always meetings with those types of people. I’ve attended many, might I remind you? I’ve rested enough this week; I want to come with you both.”

Steve’s blue eyes drill into yours as he chews on the inside of his cheek, contemplating before glancing over to his boyfriend, but it’s your turn to hold onto his face, forcing his gaze back to yours. “No!” you snap, “Don’t look at Bucky for backup. I want a genuine reason for being forced to be kept in the house. I want to stay with both of you today, and I thought that’s what you wanted over the last few days?”

It was a low blow, and you had to refrain from cringing.

“I can stay”, Bucky begins as you look over at him as Steve’s hands fall to his side.

“No. That’s not fair. I’ve been here for four days now. Please let me come with you”. It wasn’t often you had to beg either man for anything other than during an intimate moment. They were always happy for you to do anything, especially if it meant for you to remain at their side.

However, as both of their blue eyes clash in another knowing gaze, you give up. Feeling once more vulnerable and tired. It had been an odd week, to say the least. Stepping away from them, your shoulders drop in defeat. “You know what, I’ll just see you both when you get home. Please be safe”. With that, you escape up the stairs with the plan to rot in bed for the remainder of the day to catch up with your emotions.

Bucky heaves a sigh as you reach the top of the stairs. A small part of you wished that seeing you this upset, they would have chased you, but this didn’t happen. As the front door opens and closes, you can’t help but drown in the emotions of the last few days, crying into your pillow.

Later, when they return home with bags of take-out and unharmed, useless, this would be enough to pick up your spirits. However, you aren’t in the mood, unable to pull yourself out of the grump, mentally still blaming it on your impending period.

So, you ate the delicious food and climbed back into bed. It wasn’t like you were going out of your way to be distant, but the rejection from earlier still hurt, so being petty, if they wanted to be without you, they could continue that way.

SATURDAY

Wake up alone, but you know they’re somewhere still in the house. It takes you considerable time to even crawl out of bed with how groggy you feel. You’d probably spent more time in bed this week than any other time, so you decided enough was enough. You texted your friend Laura Barton.

I haven’t seen you in a while and need a distraction. Coffee date?

Five minutes passed before your phone was lighting up with a response.

Love in paradise? You know I’m always free for you; I’ve just got to bring Nate along as no babysitter, but I’m down!

My mind’s just all over the place, and I really need a friend, you respond immediately.

I can pick you up in 20, and we’ll head to a coffee shop.

Your fingers are typing before you have a moment to think about what you’re sending, and you reply, "That’s if they will let me leave the house."

The three dots on your phone appear and disappear multiple times before Laura’s text arrives. Wow, if you’re revolting against their overprotectiveness, things must be tough there. I’ll be there soon. I’m sure if you bat your pretty lashes at them, everything will be fine.

If only you thought rather than responding and taking the next 15 minutes to prepare. After getting dressed, you feel much more motivated and in better spirits; speaking to them about leaving the house is the only issue. You just needed an hour or two away to clear your thoughts from all of the protective, macho-man bullshit that seemed to surround you on the daily.

They’re both working out in the gym, and for a second, you admire them, your mouth slipping open in awe. Dressed in only their gym shorts, you’re momentarily jealous of the sweat dripping down their chests, the muscles covering their bodies flexing with each movement.

“If you want a closer look, Princess, why don’t you come here?” Bucky eyes you just as hungrily as he lowers the weight, wiping a hand over his stubbled jaw.

Taking a deep breath and trying to remain on the plan, you shake your head, straightening your posture. You can do this.

“I’m going out”, you firmly state. Usually, you ask so that they can prepare a bodyguard or security guard to patrol the area, but not today. You were a grown-ass woman who didn’t need to ask.

Steve nods, moving some strays of his wet blonde hair out of his piercing eyes. “I hope it’s somewhere fun”.

Your gaze is still flicking between them, especially Bucky as he saunters over, his eyelids lowered, and he looks like an animal on the way to pouncing on his prey. You’re like molten lava by the time he’s by your side, all but ready to jump into his arms, kissing him until you’re breathless. Your fingers slide over his firm chest, feeling his muscles, thumping heart and skimming over the scars where the metal of his arms connect with his skin. 

You mewl pathetically as he pulls back, grinning as he realizes how needy you’ve become. “If you give us a few minutes, Sam can prepare a car.”

Sam is your trusty bodyguard and best friend, and as much as you love spending time with him, today, you didn’t want to be reminded of how you always needed to be coddled.

Taking a hearty step away from him, you firmly say, “No. I don’t need Sam. I’m just going out with Laura, and she’s picking me up. It’s just coffee. I’ll be fine”. Much like the rest of the week, the atmosphere soon sours as Bucky’s grin fades until you can see his jaw tighten as he swallows.

“Ok, that’s fine”, he begins slowly, like he’s careful with what to say. “Laura can drive you, but Sam’s still coming with you, Sweetheart. It’s too dangerous out there”.

A negative heat flushes through your chest as rage slowly takes over. “No. I just need some space, I just-”. You hated how difficult it was to articulate yourself when angry. Most of the time, your instinct was to cry, but you needed to explain how you were feeling to them.

Steve enters your eyeline as he lowers his height so you’re both eye to eye. “Ok, Sam won’t go.”

“But-” Bucky tries to interrupt but stops when Steve holds up a hand to silence him.

“Take my card with you and buy yourself something nice. Have fun, baby girl”. You’re so shocked by Steve’s reaction that you hardly respond when his lips caress yours in a simple kiss.

“Really? You’re letting me go like that?” you ask suspiciously.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we? We’re a team, right?” There’s something in how he looks at you with such uncertainty that your chest is tightening. A beat passes before your arms are locked around his neck, pulling him down to kiss him slowly and deeply. Savour the touch of his stubble against your cheeks, the softness of his tongue. You’re relieved when his fingers dig into your waist, holding on with just as much eagerness.

Your phone vibrates in your back pocket. The reminder that Laura has probably arrived outside has you taking a step back, licking your lips while looking down. Your fingertips slip over his abs, which flex as you touch them.

“I’ll see you both later, love you” Quickly pecking Bucky, you turn and leave the gym, tickling under Dodger’s chin as Steve and Bucky simultaneously shout ‘Love you’ back.

Sitting with a coffee that probably had a week's worth of caffeine and a cake the size of your head, you could finally go into detail about what was happening with Laura.

“So after all that, they really let you come out with no security? I’ve never seen that happen before”, your friend muses whilst sipping her drink and trying to entertain her toddler, Nate.

“I guess not that I’m going to complain about it. Feels rebellious to be out here by myself”. 

The time passed, and it was relieving to catch up with her, definitely needed someone to validate your feelings. You still absolutely loved them and appreciated everything they did for you, but you were smothered over the last few days.

Just as you’d taken another sip of your coffee, the fine hairs on your neck rose as you felt like someone was watching you. Keeping the coffee at your lips, your eyes darted, looking out the window to the street and the patrons in the coffee shop when you saw them. Both of them.

Sensing your change in demeanour, Laura frowns as she looks at you. “What is it?” She looks around the room, and it takes seconds before she chuckles. “You’re joking, right? Did they really think a baseball hat and aviator sunglasses would be a good enough disguise?”

The fury that had first hit you when spotting Steve and Bucky soon turned to sadness. It was like they didn’t trust you at all, feeling overwhelmed by them. Initially, you wanted to confront them, but there was no point; you just wanted to escape and go to your safe space.

“Can you take me home, please?” you quietly ask Laura, pushing away the rest of your coffee.

You try to ignore your friend's sad look as she leans across the table to hold the back of your hand. “Honey, I’m sure they’re just trying to look out for you”.

“Yes, I know, they just could have told me. It makes me feel incompetent when they sneak around behind my back.”

“It’s not that, you know it’s dangerous to be dating them-”

“Yes, I know. Please, can we just go”. You didn’t mean to snap at her, and it was clear she didn’t seem offended as she packed up her belongings and rested Nate on her hip.

Standing, you walk without stopping towards the exit, conveniently where your boyfriends are sitting. Out of the corner of your eye, they both stand, and Bucky tries to reach for you.

“Just listen, we can explain why we’re here”.

You don’t stop. Even as the tears begin to fall and you see the visible flinch from Bucky, you don’t stop.

Laura tried to comfort you in the car, but it was useless. You’re home with a brief goodbye to your friend. Weaving past the security to the entrance to your home, you finally are at your front door.

By the time Steve and Bucky return, you’re upstairs, changing into your pj’s with a tub of ice cream and Dodger at your side. “Baby, where are you?” You don’t answer, but it doesn’t matter as in a matter of seconds, Steve is standing at your bedroom door, breathless and clearly distraught. “Just give us a minute to explain. It’s too dangerous to be out by yourself. We didn’t want to make you feel crowded by having someone at your side, but you need someone close just in case”.

Allowing him to speak, you’re too much of a coward to face him, turning away as the tears continue to fall and soak your clothing. “Mmm hmm, I understand”. You feel drained of energy, and the caffeine from earlier has no effect. Moving towards your bedside cabinet, you unplug your phone charger, collect your phone and ice cream, and bundle the fluffy decorative blanket from the bed.

“Where are you going?” Bucky now asks where he appears at Steve’s side, appearing just as concerned as his boyfriend, with the hat and sunglasses gone.

“The spare room”.

You can hear the audible breath that your boyfriends suck in. It took everything in you not to change your mind immediately. It hurt them, but they also hurt you this week. It wasn’t like you were gathering all your stuff and going to stay in a hotel; it was only across the hall for the rest of the day.

 It was just a break, a place to cry without having someone watching and then consequently feeling guilty for having emotions.

One of them begs, “Why are you going there? Just let us talk,” but you’re done.

“I don’t want to talk” Your bottom lip wobbles as you hold back the sobs, threatening to burst free.

Bucky steps forward, whose metal hands are cupping the point of your chin to tilt your face up to his, “Don’t stay in the spare bedroom; if you don’t want to sleep with us, we’ll stay on the couch. Just give us a minute, please”.

Trying to ignore the pleading in his tone, you shake your head, not trusting yourself to talk. Walking around them, they let you walk past, and no word is shared as you walk across the hall to the spare room.

Locking the door, you can just turn the TV on before releasing the pent-up sob you’d held in. Nearly the entire tub of ice cream has been emotionally eaten, and eyes are sore from the crying. It also felt soul-soothing to get all your emotions out, and by the time hours passed, you were ready to speak to them both, except for one long blink, which turned into a full sleep.

SUNDAY

There was no sense of time when you began to stir, only aware that the room was mainly cast into darkness except for the glow from the TV that was still playing whatever trash TV show you’d picked on Netflix.

You’re so incredibly comfortable you have to hold back a groan of pleasure with how content you’re feeling. It was like you were in a cocoon of warmth and contentment as you nuzzled further into the firm yet soft heat beneath your cheek as the bubble surrounding you tightened.

Thump thump. Thump thump. The therapeutic beat against your cheek was something you had already memorised in your dreams.

All the memories came flooding back. The crying, the argument, the locked door, the ice cream and more crying. The locked door. Something you specifically remember doing, yet somehow, you’re wrapped in a boyfriend sandwich, and you’re pretty sure the heavy weight across your feet is Dodger.

In truth, you were happy to be there and had planned to speak to them before your eyes had closed. You’d never fallen asleep during an argument before; it felt unhealthy in a relationship to do, and god knows how stressed Steve and Bucky must have been.

Snuggling closer to Steve’s chest with your back pressed against Bucky’s, you finally feel content after a week of wobbly emotions. You’re sure you need to speak with a therapist or something with how up and down you’ve been all week. You didn’t want to move from this spot ever again.

However, the urgency and pain radiating from your bladder had you cursing. Carefully and with great difficulty, you can wiggle out of your beefy cuddle and sneak to the toilet with Dodger following closely at your side. On the way, you’re able to see the door knob to the room has been shaped like it has been gripped, assuming that Bucky’s metal hand was behind the breaking into the room whilst you’re asleep.

Once in the bathroom, you take in your dishevelled look, showering, freshening up, rebandaging your hand, and dressing in one of Steve’s comfortable jumpers. On your way back to the boys, you pause, overhearing them awake and whispering.

“I told you we shouldn’t have broken in”, Steve groans frustratedly.

“Yeah, well, I’m not sleeping without her”, Bucky argues, his voice crackling lowly from where he’d just woken up.

There’s a momentary pause, and you’re about to go in when they continue. “You don’t think we’ve pushed her too far, do you?” Bucky asks.

“You tell me. She’s not in here now. She’s kept up at arm's length for days. I feel like I can’t do anything right. I just want to keep her safe, but I feel like we’re losing her”.

Broken. That’s how they both sounded, and you have done this. Your eyes sting as they, once again, well with tears, and you move back into the room, pulling the sleeves of your jumper down over your hands to wipe away the moisture.

“I’m sorry I made you both feel this way”.

Strong arms wrap around your body, cradling you carefully against their body as you’re moved to sit across Steve’s lap, and Bucky takes your feet into his lap so that you are facing one another. “I love you both. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know whether it’s my impending period that’s finding everything too overwhelming. I’m sorry!”

You’re hysterical as they both attempt to ground you with soothing shushes and strokes of their hands over your back and legs. “Sweetheart, it’s ok”.

“No, it’s not okay! " Reaching up, you take Steve’s face in your palms and say, “I love you! I would never leave you. EVER!” Next, you hold onto Bucky, half crawling fully into his lap to get your point across: “I love you so much; I’m sorry I wasn’t there to fall asleep in your arms.”

“Hey, hey, calm down, Mama. I’ve got you, we’ve both got you. We aren’t going anywhere”. 

Eventually, you can calm down enough, cuddled up against Bucky with Steve massaging the souls of your feet. You all discuss everything from feeling smothered by them to your up and down moods, feeling incompetent, and yet understanding why they are the way they are to keep you safe. It was like the world had tilted back to the right way up. Boundaries are set, so some understanding will be shared if you ever feel overwhelmed again.

“We just need you to know that we’re never going to stop protecting you until our last fucking breath”, Bucky promises as he kisses your temple.

“Good thing neither of you is going anywhere. Did you really think I’d ever leave either of you? Do I need to remind you of the hell hole you saved me from all those years ago?”

“Yes, and you’ll never have to live like that again. You’re mine and Bucky’s. No one will touch you again”.

If only Steve knew what was to come.

It was the early morning hours after your long chat, but it was late enough for Steve and Bucky to forgo sleeping and head to the office. Having a couple more hours of sleep after they left, you were fresh and ready to go by the time Sam was knocking on your front door.

It had been a long week, so you surprised your bodyguard by hugging him. “Did they tell you about my week?” you ask, needing to know if Sam had been updated about everything from your boyfriends.

“I don't know what you mean” Judging by his tone, he damn well knew what had happened, but nonetheless, his arms tightened around you, “as much as I love your company, the bosses will kill me for touching you”.

You pull back, alarmed to see him trying and failing to hide the smile on his face. Rolling your eyes at his jokes playfully, you climb into the waiting SUV.

“Just a warning, boss lady. There’s a meeting being held over the next 10 minutes,” Sam explains as he pulls into the parking lot that opens into the warehouse.

“Oh? Do you know who it is with?”

Sam shrugs, helping you out of the car whilst looking around at the chaos surrounding him as men and women rush around the crates and trucks. “Some hotshot guy who owns a couple of clubs wants to have the protection of the Rogers team so he can run his underground market. HEY! That’s not supposed to be in that shipment, you dickwad! Sorry, do you mind if I go kick their heads in?”

You know he’s joking, but he nods, grinning as Sam, the group's mother hen, rushes toward the offending truck. “Good luck! I’m going to head to the office. I’m sure the meeting will be over soon.”

Lost in your daydream world, you’re half paying attention as the elevator arrives at the corridor leading to the office. Stepping out and into the elevator, expecting it to be empty but stopping short when, you find a man leaning against the wall, staring at his phone.

The walls felt as if they were caving in. Everything, including your breath and heart, pauses momentarily as you know who it is. You’d know him from his voice, aftershave, and grimy hands. He was one of the many that plagued your nightmares from a past you were trying to forget. No happiness existed when your brother controlled every aspect of your miserable life until Steve bulldozed his way into it. 

Ralph Pannone, the man before you, was one of the highest individuals in your brother's gang, but over the last few months before it all came crashing down - thanks to the Rogers mafia - he had been missing on a job. It had been a relief, if not a blessing, those weeks without him and the years that followed, and it’s easy to think you’re safe from those past demons when they don’t haunt you in reality.

The wolf tattooed on his throat is ingrained into your mind. The silver of his fingers glinted in the dimmed light that was shockingly cool against your skin from all the times he had inappropriately touched your face.

Later in therapy, you would talk about your instinct to freeze when in a shocking, fearful situation. For example, on Monday, when your palm was accidentally cut, and today, staring at one of Hell’s workers in your safe space, all you could do was freeze.

He must have smelt your fear because his face slowly turned to yours, his typical devilish smirk causing your knees to shake. You wanted to scream. Scream for help for Steve and Bucky to save you.

“I was saddened to see my little kitten wasn’t on her knees and waiting for me in that meeting like I thought she would be. But, it appears she wants her own personal meeting”. He’s now walking towards you, and there’s nothing you can do except tremble with fear.

Kitten. That nickname that always had you flinching. It was his favourite thing to call you. He’d say it’s because you’re soft and cut, and whenever he decided he had the right to touch your face, you would swat him away with your ‘sharp little claws’. He was degrading, misogynistic and utterly terrifying.

The tip of his boots brushes against the front of your shoes as you breathe in his nauseating aftershave. “Come on, kitten, cat got your tongue? It’s funny how your brother gave you everything, but it wasn’t enough, was it? You still had to have my BEST friend killed and sleep your way to the top of Brooklyn.”

You finally have a visible response when you flinch away, staring at the floor as you struggle to catch your breath at his derogatory words. Your throat burns with the threat of vomiting as his fingers graze against your forehead, brushing aside a strand of hair until it's tucked behind your ear.

Leaning even closer until his lips are close to his fingers around the shell of your ear, he whispers, “Don’t worry, my sweet kitten. You’re going to be mine soon. These pretend soldiers aren’t going to stop me from getting what’s mine.”

And then he’s gone.

Like that, your world is once again tilted on its axis—the safety net you’d been cocooned in, shattering into dust. Time doesn’t seem to exist when you’re in this state of shock as the next minutes or hours flash by in brief glimpses.

Lying on the floor of the corridor, high-pitched ringing in your ears.

Sam’s face hovered above your own as he shouted, but you couldn’t hear what he said as the world felt muffled. All you could tell was that he was conflicted between being scared and furious.

Now you’re in the office, specifically Steve’s personal office on the couch, your head in Bucky’s lap as Steve paced a hole into the carpet.

Natasha was here, by your side, talking lowly to you. It feels like you’re responding, but you can’t be sure. It was like your body was in a weird limbo of sorts.

Home. At last, you were home, in your bed, with Doctor Banner lightly touching your wrist with his eyes closed. He was counting, you thought, and as he finished and glanced up at your face, he was happy to see you were awake. A bright light flashed in your eyes as you flinched away, trying to shield yourself.

“I’m glad you’re back with us.”

“What happened?” you croaked from the dryness in your throat as you tried to sit up.

“Careful, here’s some water. It appears that you had a panic attack and fainted. Luckily, there doesn’t seem to be any head injuries or lasting injuries. Maybe a bruises here and there. Do you remember what happened? What was the last thing you remember?”

Ralph.

The next thing you know, you’re breathing into a paper bag as the Doctor rubs slow circles over your shoulders, trying to reassure you to breathe slowly. It took a few minutes to calm down before you could ask, “Bucky, Steve, please, I need to see them”.

“Of course, I’ll go right and get them. I’m on call tonight, so please don’t hesitate to get them to phone me if you need anything”.  You’re hardly paying attention as he leaves, and suddenly, you’re first welcomed by a lick on the face by an excited Dodger and arms around your waist and back as Steve and Bucky are finally at your side.

They all hold you as you cry, not a single tear reaching your shirt as either Dodger licks them away or Steve and Bucky wipe them with their fingers.

“I’m not expecting you to explain what has happened, and I have never been more scared than seeing you on the floor, barely conscious, without an obvious reason for it. I want you to know you’re safe, and the threat has been eliminated”.

Turning towards Steve, you give him a questioning look so he continues explaining. “We watched the security camera from the corridor. He saw what he did, and we heard what that scumbag said to you. For some reason, a background check wasn’t completed on him so he could weasel his way into a meeting with us. We found plenty of evidence of his involvement in your brother's gang.” Steve has to take a deep breath as his anger increases again, his jaw tight.

Bucky, therefore, continues, but you can tell by the venom in his voice that his anger is just as severe as his boyfriend's. “It took me minutes to track him down whilst Natasha and Sam stayed by your side. We wanted to stay, but we needed to be the ones to end that fuckers life. I wanted to see the light leave his eyes”.

“To be honest, we killed him too quickly. I wanted to inflict as much pain mentally as he had done to you, but know that he died screaming and begging for his life”. 

Steve and Bucky held no remorse when he came to you. This was the life they lived, the protection they offered for someone they loved.

Appreciation and regret are the two words spiralling through your thoughts. Appreciation for them both, for everything they’ve ever given for you and regret for how you’ve overreacted this week. Yes, you were human; it was expected to have ups and downs days, but right now, there was nothing more you wanted than to show how much you loved them right back.

You were done being the victim.

You’re in Steve’s, thighs burning from the stretch of straddling over his, your fingers desperately clutching into his blonde hair, pulling onto it and drawing his face towards yours. You feel his body tense and then wholly break. Warm hands grip your waist, dominantly tugging your body closer until you flush against him.

“Dodger, go to bed, buddy,” Bucky instructs, clicking towards the door. The good boy that he is, your baby strolls out of the room to his bed downstairs. 

Your hands are all over Steve, combing through his locks, to the stubble on his cheeks, to the muscles over his shoulders. You needed to feel all of him, the softness of his skin, the power in his legs, the hardness of his cock.

“More, I need more”, you beg against his lips whilst trying to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Woah, ok, hold on a moment”, Steve urges gently whilst cupping both of your hands away from his chest. “I think we need to walk about this. You’ve been through a lot, and I just need to ensure you’re alright”. 

“I can and will talk about this, but not right now. I need a distraction, and I need you to remind me that everything is alright. I need you to remind me that I am yours, and you are both mine, and no one will change that!”

“Damn right, you’re ours”, Bucky growls possessively, tugging on the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, angling your head back and devouring your mouth. At the same time, Steve’s on your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses and nippin' in the sensitive spots. Your hips instinctively grind against Steve’s crotch, needing pressure and stimulation to your pussy.

You’re rewarded with the outline of Steve’s cock, hard and squished within the confines of his suit trousers. Bucky’s tongue enters your mouth, and he groans at your taste, his sharp teeth catching your lower lip and soothing the bites with more kisses.

“Need this off!” Steve demands as he roughly grabs the hem of your shirt, tearing it down the middle and discarding the pieces across the room. His mouth is then attached to the swell of your breasts, sucking until pain and pleasure pulses in the areas. With a simple snap of his fingers, the clasp of your bra is the next to be removed.

Topless, his bare hands are finally able to cup your breasts, his thumbs pressing on your hardened nipples. “These are mine”, he speaks against your skin before sucking a nipple into his mouth, pulsing the sensitive area until you’re crying out his name against Bucky’s lips.

Your panties feel uncomfortable and restrictive with how warm and wet you are between your legs. However, your needs are the last thing on your mind right now as you need to please your boyfriends and show them your appreciation.

Reaching between your bodies, your fingers press against the swell in Steve’s crotch, massaging the throbbing erection until he’s bucking into your palm. Undoing his buckle and zipper, you’re able to free his cock, moving your tight fist up and down his length as he groans hungrily against your breasts.

With unsteady legs, you climb off Steve’s lap and lower to your knees on the carpet; however, his hands pull up against your arms, stopping your movement. “No, this is supposed to be about you”.

Shaking your head with a reassuring smile, you move back to your knees, massaging your hands up Steve’s thigh. “No, actually. It’s supposed to be about all of us. Now, please, let me suck your cock, sir”.

The name works wonders as his cock visibly throbs against his abdomen, and his eyes darken as he licks his lips. To his side, Bucky pulls off his shirt, muscles flexing as he does so, and you continue with your plan for the rest of the evening. “I want to take you both at the same time. So why don’t you help me, sir?” you’re looking directly at Bucky now, who grins in response.

“Fuck yes, Doll”.

He helps to take off the remainder of your clothes until you’re left kneeling, back arches and ass perked up with Bucky behind you, his hands massaging your ass cheeks.

“I want your pretty little mouth on Steve’s cock whilst I make you cum. Do you think you can do that for me, Princess?” Bucky asks whilst kissing up the length of your spine.

You don’t need to verbally answer him as your mouth is instantly on the blonde’s cock, teasing at first with licks around the sensitive head before wrapping your lips around the thickness and sucking inches of it back into your mouth. You’re welcomed with a sinful gasp from the man who spreads his legs further, giving you more room to settle between them, his big hands resting on the back of your head.

Bucky watched whilst removing the rest of his clothes before delving into his own personal feast. Growling with hunger as he spreads your cheeks and licks from your clit up to your puckered back hole. Your body reacts by pushing back into his face as his tongue slips into your pussy, slurping all your juices lewdly.

His tongue played special treats against your clit, circling, sucking, pulsing whilst his finger dipped into your asshole. He knew exactly how to get you worked up as he used your wetness to lube one finger, then two, gently easing in and out, trying to stretch the area for his cock. It burned, but it was a delicious pain you’d hoped for when asking him to complete the task.

Just as he had three fingers penetrating your hole, your orgasm burst in pleasurable, mind-numbing waves as your pussy squeezed his tongue desperately. Your moan also caused your mouth to vibrate around Steve’s cock as he verbally coached you through your pleasure.

“That’s it, cum around Bucky’s tongue. Taking his fingers so well, aren’t you, baby girl? You’re made for us.”

Nodding with his cock still in your mouth, you’re suddenly pulled off by the hand on the back of your head as Steve leans down to heavily make out with you, not caring that your mouth had just been on his cock. “I need to taste you”, he demands against your mouth, and within seconds, you’re led out over the bed.

His head dips between your thighs, his mouth hungrily eating and sucking away as your back arches, fingers and nails desperately clawing into his hair. “Yes! Sir! Oh my god!”

“Damn right, I’m your god now”, he spoke the words against your clit. Your mind was rushing with the need to agree verbally and yet desperately hold on to his hair.

A cool hand cups your cheek as Bucky tilts your face in his direction, and you open your mouth, accepting his cock as you had done with Steve’s. Bucky isn’t as demanding as he’s fucking your mouth as he rolls his hips carefully so that he’s slowly fucking your throat.

It takes almost no time at all before there’s overwhelming tightness between your legs like everything down there is going to explode. Pulling away from Bucky’s cock, you cry out, “I can’t- it’s too much!”

“Yes, you can. Come for us, Baby,” Steve encouraged as he slipped two fingers into your wet pussy, curling them to hit that perfect spot within. That was all you needed to both cum and relax all your muscles between your legs, and without shame, you could feel the bed soaking beneath you as Steve and Bucky cheered you on, “That’s it, squirt for us! Damn, you’re so beautiful”.

The breath is knocked out of you by the time the waves of pleasure have subsided. However, your arousal is still at a ten as Steve’s arms circle beneath your body, and you’re now koalaed around him. Arms around his shoulders and ankles crossed behind his back.

“Steve!” your head tips back as the thick length of him slowly enters your pussy. No matter the number of times the two of you fucked, there was never a time when you weren’t shocked by how full you felt with him inside of you.

“Feels so good to be inside of you. Do you think you can still take Buck?”

“Yes, please, sir, I need you both inside of me”.

The warmth of Bucky’s chest finally surrounds your spine as he kisses the junction between your shoulder and neck. “Easy there, got to be careful when slipping this big dick in this tight little hole back here”, Bucky teases as you feel the head of his cock pressing against your asshole.

Your head tips back and rests on his shoulder, mouth gaping open with a constant string of curses and pleads. Much like with his fingers, the initial burn mixing with the pleasure is the perfect mix as the head of his cock gently breaches your warmth.

“You’re so fucking wet and tight”, Bucky moans against your neck as you take inch after inch of him until you’re stretched and full of them both.

The first orgasm with both of them fucking you at the same time is enough to nearly have you passing out again as you continue to squirt until there’s a small puddle on the floor.

The second orgasm has every nerve in your body feel as if it’s burning with pleasure. You’re entirely limp in their arms, but they’re holding you up with firm hands on your thighs and waist. By the third orgasm, you were hardly coherent as both men finally joined you in that blissful state, their cum filling your used holes and dripping into the puddle below.

It was hard for you to stay awake as they carefully cleaned you with warm wash clothes and fresh clothing. You’re thoroughly wrapped in their arms as the three of you settle into the centre of the bed.

“I’m so happy to be yours”, you admit tiredly before sleep takes you.

[ramp-it-up]

Trouble in Mind

Summary: Las Vegas, 1952. James Buchanan Barnes is the newest, and youngest, Capo in town. But amid the glitz and shadows of the Strip, he never expects to find you, the beautiful singer who vanished from his life six years ago without a trace. Bucky wants you back. And he wants answers. But you're only willing to give him one of those things.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Lounge Singer!Reader

A/N: This is an absolute fever dream inspired by #BuckyBarnesBirthdayBingo by @avengers-assemble-bingo. This fulfills the square: Mafia Bucky.

I went back to 50's Vegas because I need another world to get lost in. This is a little longer because this world is so fetch. I can't quite decide if he is going to be dark!Mafia! Bucky after this. Let me know what you think! Please reblog, comment, and like!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Angst. Lots of cigarette smoking, longing, forbidden romance, Steve and Sam (they are warnings!), Bucky is an ass, cocky Bucky, smooth talker Bucky, young love, heart break, a slap (which he deserves), rough sex, wall sex, 50's foundation garments, long time no sex, oral (f receiving) squirting praise kink, raw p in v, lies, deceit, and crime, along with 1950's race relations and allusions to Jim Crow. Whew.

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

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Las Vegas, 1952

Vegas glittered at night.

Neon lights buzzed, the air thick with cigarette smoke and money. And tonight, a set of eyes was watching you that you thought you’d left far behind. 

You felt his gaze before you even saw him. It burned into you from the darkest corner of the club. The kind of stare that made your skin prickle, which was both a warning and a temptation.

Bucky.

You’d heard a new Capo was coming to take over the casino, an up and comer from the East Coast, one of the youngest Bosses ever. 

You never imagined it would be Bucky Barnes.

------ 

Brooklyn, 1946

Bucky saw you before you ever looked his way.

James Buchanan Barnes was fresh out of the war and already sinking into the life waiting for him back home.

The one his mother prayed he’d stay away from. 

The one he walked into anyway.

The scent of fresh bread drifted from the bakery down the block as Bucky leaned outside the corner store, trading laughs with his boys, cigarette dangling from his fingers, watching the world pass him by.

Then you walked past, on the way to your vocal lessons.

Your head was high, shoulders squared, exuding the kind of confidence that was ingrained. Your dress clung just right, swaying with each step, and Bucky swore he forgot how to breathe.

He knew your type, a daddy’s girl, from a family with expectations. A good girl from Bed-Stuy, the kind who kept her nose clean and didn’t look twice at trouble.

Trouble, like him.

Down on the corner, they could hear your voice carry over the city noise, rising like a bird above the clatter of the el train.

Lark. That’s what they called you when you weren’t listening. Never to your face.

They knew better than to get too close, and Bucky knew better than to look too long.

But he looked anyway.

And when you finally met his eyes, something in you flickered.

Your father had warned you about guys like Bucky Barnes. 

‘Young punks’, he called them, hanging outside that shop owned by the local boss. Nothing but dead ends and broken hearts. He told you to keep your head high and your eyes forward, and to remember who you were. 

And if that warning wasn’t clear enough, there was another, unspoken one layered beneath it: Girls like you don’t mix with boys like him. Not in this world.

But when Bucky looked at you with those blue eyes, you knew you were already ruined. 

He found ways to get close. 

Catching your eye when you passed by, a slow smirk when you looked away too fast. Holding the door open a second too long, letting his fingers brush yours when he handed over your change. Words, always words, low and teasing, dangerous for a girl with a mind like yours. 

Words were your weakness.

"You gonna keep pretendin’ you don’t see me, Doll?" he asked one evening, stepping into your path as you left the bakery. 

You could smell his cologne and feel his heat and why were you thinking that his lips were nice? What was the tingle in your lower back that you just knew would go away if he touched you there?

You shook your head, remembering you couldn’t entertain this.

"You gonna keep acting like it don’t matter?" you shot back, heart pounding. 

You continued on your way but that night you couldn’t sleep for thoughts of him. 

One day, he whistled as you walked by. And that day, you stopped.

"You want a problem, Barnes?"

He smirked, looking you over blatantly and licking his lips.

"A problem’s not what I want, Doll. Just enjoyin’ the view."

That should’ve been the end of it. But it wasn’t.

You should’ve ignored him. Should’ve listened to your father. But you didn’t.

Because Bucky Barnes had a way of making himself impossible to ignore.

It was stolen glances at first, then hushed conversations on the stoop when the sun was setting. His voice curled around your name, making it sound like something precious. It was the thrill of his hand ghosting over yours, his fingers rough but careful, like he was afraid you’d pull away.

Except you never did.

You knew the risks. You knew people talked. In a world that kept its lines drawn thick and unyielding, Bucky chasing after you was a dangerous thing. 

But Bucky never cared about lines.

He didn't care when people whispered, when your father tightened the reins, when your friends warned you that even if he wasn’t afraid, the world wouldn’t be kind.

“You scared?” he asked one night, his voice soft but steady.

"Of what?"

"Of what happens if you let yourself want this as bad as I do.”

You should have been. But you weren’t.

At first, you told yourself it was just curiosity, just a bit of rebellion before you settled down and did what was expected of you. But curiosity turned into something more, something dangerous. 

Something like love.

Because when he kissed you for the first time, heat pressing against heat in the shadow of an alleyway, you didn’t care about the rules. Bucky tasted like smoke and sin and the promise of something reckless. And suddenly, all the warnings in the world didn’t matter.

Didn’t matter that Brooklyn had unspoken rules. Because Bucky knew what he wanted. And he knew you wanted him back. 

He savored those stolen nights in dark alleys, the way you melted under his touch, the way you let yourself need him, even if only when no one else could see.

And you knew that it wasn’t just about the thrill of sneaking around, or the way he could make your breath hitch with a single look. It was about him, the way he softened when it was just the two of you. The way his fingers traced slow patterns on your skin, memorizing you like you were something sacred.

The way he made you feel like you belonged to him.

Maybe you did. Because you gave him your innocence. 

But love like that didn’t come without consequences. 

What Bucky hadn’t expected, what he hadn’t planned for, was how deep he’d fall for you, how much he’d care.

You weren’t just a good time. You weren’t just a secret thrill. You were it.

The one thing that made the rest of the world fade away.

And maybe that’s why he didn’t see it coming.

One day you were there, warm and real beneath his hands. And the next, you were gone.

No warning. No note. No goodbye. Just vanished, into thin air.

And for six years, he told himself it didn’t matter. That if you wanted to leave, then fine. That he wasn’t the type to chase ghosts.

But then he saw you again, standing under the lights of a Vegas stage, your voice carving its way through the smoky haze.

And in that moment, Bucky Barnes knew one thing for certain.

This time, he wasn’t letting you run.

—-

Vegas, 1952

The man that you had to leave in the middle of the night was sitting in the lounge that you sang in. The man that you dreamed about at night as you sang love songs was right here in the room with you.

And you didn’t know how to act.

You should have run. But you didn’t.

He was seated in the VIP section, flanked by two other men in sharp suits, but he was the only one that mattered. The way he lounged, cigarette between his fingers, watching you like he never relinquished his ownership of you, made your head spin.

—--

Bucky leaned back in his seat, cigarette burning low between his fingers, letting the familiar hum of the casino settle into his bones: the money, the women, the men who thought they were untouchable.

Las Vegas glowed like sin, neon and greed dripping down its streets. It wasn’t Brooklyn, but it had its own kind of pull, its own kind of power. And now, it belonged to him.

It all revolved around him.

But none of it held his attention. Not like you did.

He saw you before you saw him, and for a moment, the world tilted as the air sucked straight out of the room.

Then you stepped onto that stage, looking like something spun from a dream, and for the first time in years, Bucky almost believed in fate.

He’d spent too long clawing his way up in this world to let anyone, or anything, decide his future for him. But seeing you again? It felt like something supernatural.

Because here you were.

In his city.

Singing like you owned the damn room.

You had changed. Not just older, not just more poised. It was in the way you carried yourself, the way you commanded the stage with a presence that made every other woman in the world fade to nothing.

And your body. It was a marvel, showcased in shimmering fabric that clung to curves he remembered all too well.

Now you had fuller hips and softer edges; your body was made to be held. If he got his hands on you again, he knew there would be more of you to worship, to savor.

You weren’t that wide-eyed girl from Brooklyn anymore. And yet, you were still his Lark.

He saw the exact moment you felt his gaze, the subtle tension in your spine, the way your fingers curled just a little tighter around the mic. Even after all these years, you could still feel him.

Then your eyes found him in the dim glow of the club, and Bucky saw it, the sharp inhale, the slight part of your lips, as if you were about to say his name.

It was enough to make his chest ache.

—--

You should’ve kept walking.

You should’ve ignored the butterflies in your belly and that tingle in your back that only Bucky Barnes had been able to inspire.

But you didn’t.

Instead, after your set, you let your feet carry you straight to his table.

Bucky smirked, his fingers tapping lazily against the glass in front of him. 

Like he knew you would come to him.

Six years gone, and yet the moment your eyes locked with his, it was like no time had passed at all. But you weren’t that girl anymore. And Bucky wasn’t that boy.

He was something else now. Something more defined. The suit fit too well, the watch on his wrist cost too much, and the men flanking him sat too still, waiting for his command.

Still, when he looked at you, it wasn’t the infamous new Capo of Las Vegas James Buchanan Barnes staring back.

It was him. Your Bucky.

The boy who once kissed you breathless in the back of a borrowed car.

The boy who called you ‘Baby’ like the word belonged to him.

The boy you left behind in the dead of night, never looking back.

Until now.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, keeping your voice steady.

His smile was the same one that decimated you back in the day.

“Funny,” he said, tapping ash from his cigarette. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Your stomach flipped, but you didn’t let it show. 

Bucky had always been too good at reading you. Way too good. And then he did something dangerous. He nodded to the empty seat beside him.

“Sit with me, Doll.”

The way he said it, low and easy, like it was a foregone conclusion made your body obey like you had long ago. Your fingers twitched at your side. But instead of walking away, you lowered yourself into the seat beside him, your skin prickling with goosebumps under his gaze.

And when he smirked again, just a little, like he’d just won something, your breath hitched.

Because you both knew.

Six years apart hadn’t changed a gotdamn thing.

—--

The moment you sat down, you knew you’d already lost something. Maybe the upper hand, maybe your damn mind, but something shifted the second you met his eyes and made the choice to stay.

Bucky took another slow drag from his cigarette, like he was savoring this moment. He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, peering at you through it with those blue eyes, then finally turned to the two men sitting beside him, as if he’d just remembered they were there.

“Fellas,” he drawled, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray, “this here is Trouble.”

Your lips parted slightly, a profane retort ready to go, but before you could snap back, he continued.

“Trouble, this is Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.”

Steve, the blonde with the sharp blue eyes, nodded at you, his expression unreadable. He was the kind of man who didn’t say much but noticed everything.

Sam, on the other hand, smiled a beautiful gap-toothed grin. 

“Trouble, huh?” 

He extended a hand, and you hesitated before taking it, but his grip was warm and firm.

“I gotta say, any woman that can put that look on Barnes’ face is someone I gotta know.”

You arched a brow, tilting your head. 

“And what look is that?”

Sam’s grin widened. 

“Like he just won the jackpot.”

Your stomach tightened, but you kept your face neutral. Instead, you turned back to Bucky, leveling him with a look. 

“Trouble?”

Bucky’s lips curled, and something wicked danced in his eyes. 

“You always were.”

You didn’t blink. 

“And you always loved it.”

There was a silence thick with sex between you, and again the other men were forgotten.

Then, Steve cleared his throat. 

“How do you two know each other?”

Bucky chuckled darkly, and leaned back in his seat.

“Let’s just say…” His eyes met yours, heat simmering beneath the surface.  “She used to belong to me.”

The words struck your chest like lightning. You’d learned enough curse words to set his head on fire since you’d known him last, but you didn’t lace the room with profanity. 

Your fingers curled into a fist in your lap, but you kept your expression steady. 

You weren’t the girl anymore who let Bucky Barnes own her with a smile and a whispered promise in the dark.

So you tilted your head, letting your lips curve.

“Used to,” you repeated, voice smooth as velvet. “Interesting choice of words.”

Bucky’s smile didn’t drop, but he clutched his glass tighter, and you saw the way his jaw ticked.

Sam let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the show. 

“Damn. She’s quick.”

Steve, ever the observer, just watched the exchange with a smirk.

You leaned in slightly, just enough to make Bucky’s eyes flicker to your mouth and down to your cleavage before he dragged them back up. 

“If I remember right, I was the one who left.”

Bucky exhaled a slow breath through his nose, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray again, his voice a shade lower now. 

“That’s what you think?”

You raised a brow. 

“That’s what I know.”

He made a sound low in his throat before taking another sip of his drink. He gazed at you like he was trying to figure out what to do with you now that you were sitting right in front of him again.

Then his eyes narrowed just a fraction.

“So tell me, Trouble. If you walked away so easy, why are you sitting here now?”

That’s the question, you thought.

So instead of answering, you reached for his glass, plucked it from his fingers, and took a slow sip before setting it back down.

Then you met his eyes and smiled.

“Maybe I just wanted to remind you,” you said softly. “That you don’t own me anymore.”

Bucky stared at you, unreadable. That muscle in his jaw twitched again.

Then, slowly, that wicked smirk crept back onto his face and he tilted his head at you, those blue eyes sparkling.

“We’ll see about that, Lark.”

—----

Bucky watched as you set his glass back down, the ghost of your lipstick staining the rim, taunting him. Six years apart, and you still knew how to get under his skin with a single look, a single move. 

A single sentence.

Maybe I just wanted to remind you… that you don’t own me anymore.

You challenged him in ways no one else dared to. And Bucky fucking loved it.

Steve and Sam were watching, though they had the good sense to stay quiet. Sam was chuckling, and Steve’s face held a small crooked smile, one that appeared after Bucky said Lark.

Bucky didn’t give a damn about either of them right now.

His eyes stayed on you. You were trying to be tough, but you had to be feeling the same pull that he was. Bucky leaned forward, closing the space just enough to catch your scent and see your pupils blow wider. 

Gotcha.

“Never needed to own you, Doll.” 

His voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it. 

“That was never the game.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you caught yourself, chucking your chin up instead. 

“Then what was your game, James?”

He smiled again. He wasn’t about to hand you that answer.

Yet.

Instead, he sat back, dragging his gaze over you slowly, and licking his lips. 

You were still the most beautiful thing in the damn room, and you had to know it. That dress, those eyes; every man in this club was probably watching you, and wanting you.

But only one of them had ever had you.

And only one of them was going to again.

He tapped his fingers once against the table before rising smoothly to his feet. 

“C’mon.”

You blinked, “What?”

He nodded toward the back of the club, where the private booths were. Where you two could talk without an audience.

“Walk with me.”

A challenge. A test. A door you could still choose not to open.

Bucky saw you hesitate, for just a moment, but then you stood, smoothing out your dress and holding your head high like you hadn’t just made a decision that would change everything.

Bucky’s smirk widened.

That’s my girl.

—-

Bucky’s smirk deepened when you stood, like he’d known you would. That alone made something tighten in your chest, but you swallowed it down, lifting your chin as you followed him through the club.

The noise of the club, the conversations, the clinking of glasses, the jazz band, it all blurred as he led you toward the back, past the heavy velvet curtain that separated the VIP section from the private rooms. It infuriated you how easy it was to fall into step with him, how your body remembered before your mind could protest.

The moment you were away from prying eyes, he turned.

“You still listen like a Good Girl,” he murmured, voice smooth as smoke and just as dangerous.

You crossed your arms, shielding yourself from his stare as he leaned back against the small table between you, eyes skimming the curves of your dress like he had every right to.

“And you’re still a little asshole, Bucky.”

His smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened. He pulled out a cigarette, tapping it against his lighter before the soft flicker of flame cast his face in gold. He inhaled slow, exhaled even slower.

“I think you know I’m not ‘little,’ Baby,” he said, voice dipping lower. “Bet you that cunt still curves to my dick.”

You didn’t think. Your palm met his cheek in a resounding slap before you could stop it.

Bucky only grinned.

“You must wanna see if it’s true,” he murmured, stepping closer, “because you know that turns me on.”

Your breath hitched, anger curling hot in your gut, and you turned to leave, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, gentle but firm.

“Sorry, Doll.”

You knew he was anything but.

Although he let you go the moment you glared at his hand, the heat of his touch lingered.

“Stay,” he said, quieter this time. “I think we need to talk, don’t you?”

You lifted a brow. “About?”

He studied you like he was searching for the right words.

“You left Brooklyn.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a wound, still fresh after six years.

You met his stare, steady. 

“I did.”

“Didn’t say a damn thing to me.”

You thought of the reason why, of the tiny heartbeat that changed your life forever, and you folded your arms tighter across your chest.

“Would it have mattered?”

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he took another drag of his cigarette.

“That’s cute, Doll.”

His voice was rough.

“You really think I would’ve let you go?”

Your stomach clenched, but you didn’t flinch. 

“That might be why I didn’t tell you.”

His jaw ticked, frustration creeping into the lines of his face. He leaned in, forearms bracing against the table, his eyes locking onto yours.

“You ran. Fine.” 

His voice was softer now, laced with something you couldn’t name. 

“But tell me this. Was it worth it?”

The air left your lungs. You thought of why you ran. What was expected of you. What would’ve happened if you’d stayed.

Six years of building a life from scratch. Six years of trying to convince yourself you made the right choice. Six years of missing him. Six years of seeing his eyes every day both in your dreams and when you woke.

“Absolutely.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered, searching your face for something, doubt, regret, a lie. But he didn’t find it.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he said, “You were mine.”

You exhaled slowly. 

“I’m not sorry for what I did, Bucky. But I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

You meant it. Every word.

But you belonged to someone else now. Someone more important than James Barnes.

—---

Bucky’s eyes flashed, then he sat back in his seat, appraising you yet again. 

“It’s okay, Doll. I turned out okay. And here we are, together again.”

“We’re not together, Bucky.”

He took another drag of his smoke.

“Only a matter of time, Baby.”

You took a breath, steadying yourself, lifting your chin. 

“I have another set.”

Bucky smiled at you.

“I know.”

Of course, he knew. He ran this town and he always paid attention, always saw more than you wanted him to.

You stood, ready to walk away, to put some space between the past and the present before you lost yourself in it again. But before you could take a step, something small and cool slid against your palm.

You looked down.

A key.

Bucky’s fingers lingered over yours just long enough to make your pulse jump. He looked into your eyes and leaned down and it was like your lips were connected by magnets. 

He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes and regrets as his tongue slid into your mouth, establishing ownership yet again. 

He pulled back and rested his forehead on yours.

“Royal Sierra Hotel. Top floor,” he gruffed.  “I’ll be waiting.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You should have dropped the key right back into his palm. Should have told him no, should have walked away, should have done a thousand things. 

But you did none of them. You just curled your fingers around the key, just for a second, then slipped it into your dress pocket like it meant nothing. 

Bucky didn’t call you on it. Didn’t press. He just smiled, slow and knowing, then stepped back.

“See you soon, Doll.”

Then he was gone, and you were left standing there, with a key in your pocket and a storm in your chest, knowing damn well you were about to make a mistake.

——

Your second set of the night flew by in a blur. Your voice soared through the rafters, full of emotion, carrying the weight of things you couldn’t say out loud. The memories all spilled into the songs, wrapped in melodies that weren’t yours but might as well have been. 

You poured your soul into every note, and the crowd felt it. They responded with enthusiastic applause and with generosity for the waitresses and bartenders. At the end of the night, the club manager pressed extra bills into your hand, murmuring something about record-breaking tips.

You barely heard him. 

Your mind was already made up.

You stepped out into the cool night air, exhaling as you raised your hand to hail a cab, but before you could, a smooth voice cut through the darkness.

“Need a ride?”

You turned, heels clicking against the pavement as you took in the sight before you.

Steve Rogers, all broad shoulders and quiet authority, leaned against a gleaming black Continental, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. 

Your brows lifted. 

“Didn’t peg you for a chauffeur.”

Steve chuckled.

“Just trying to be nice.” 

He nodded toward the passenger seat. 

“We’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

Your gaze shifted past him to Sam, watching you from inside the car, his smile just visible through the window.

“And if I need to go home?” you asked, testing.

Steve shrugged. 

“Then we’ll take the lady home. But if you’re looking for a little more excitement…”

“We know a place or two,” Sam finished, his voice tinged with amusement.

Despite yourself, you smiled. You liked them. Even if they were Bucky’s men, and even if they saw more than they let on.

“I’ll take you up on that,” you said, sighing as you stepped forward. 

“Standing on a stage in heels all night isn’t exactly easy on the legs.”

Steve’s gaze flickered down, tracing the slit in your dress, lingering just long enough to make your pulse skip.

“Those legs look just fine to me,” he murmured.

You arched a brow. Was Steve Rogers flirting with you? And was Sam giving you the same once over from the passenger seat?

And more importantly, what would Bucky do if he knew? 

You didn’t have time to wonder. Steve was already holding the door open, waiting. You slid inside, sinking into the plush leather seats, and shot him a tired, knowing smile as he shut the door behind you.

He climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted the mirror, his eyes catching yours in the reflection. 

“Which way, Miss Y/L/N?”

You hesitated.

Bucky was making this hard.

You closed your eyes, reaching back, searching for the girl you were six years ago. The girl who ran. The girl who had every reason to. But she was gone, her memories worn thin, fragile as cigarette paper.

You could stand to make some new ones.

And they would have to last. Because this would only be one night.

“The Royal Sierra,” you said softly.

Steve’s lips twitched. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You two do this often?” you asked as the car rumbled to life.

Steve and Sam exchanged a glance, the kind that spoke volumes.

“I’ve known Bucky for three years,” Sam said, voice lighter than his meaning. “And I’ve never seen him give a woman the time of daylight.”

You let out a soft laugh.

“It’s nighttime, Sam.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. 

“He’s never introduced me to a dame before. Plenty have tried to get to him through us, but he doesn’t let ‘em. He just shoos ‘em off like stray dogs.” 

Sam’s smirk deepened. 

“But you? You’re different.”

Something in your chest tightened. You turned toward the back of Steve’s head. 

“What about you, Mr. Rogers?”

Steve cleared his throat, his hands flexing on the wheel.

“I’ve known Buck since we were kids in Brooklyn,” he said after a pause.

“And he’s only ever talked about one woman to me.”

The weight of his words settled over you. He didn’t have to say it. You knew.

Steve’s voice was softer when he added, “But he stopped talking about her about five and a half years ago.”

Your heart clenched.

You didn’t ask any more questions after that. You just let the city lights blur past the window, let the neon colors bleed together as they carried you to the man waiting at the top of the Royal Sierra.

Waiting for you.

——-

The Royal Sierra was a loud kind of quiet. The kind that came from power. Bucky’s kind of place.

Steve pulled up to the entrance, stepping out with effortless authority, like he’d done it a thousand times before. Like he belonged here. Like you belonged here. No one stopped you. No one asked questions.

His presence alone was a key. A shield.

Bucky Barnes’ reach extended farther than Mr. Crow’s.

Before you knew it, you were stepping into the elevator, watching the floors tick by, your pulse a slow, deliberate drum in your throat. And by the time you reached the penthouse, your body had made a decision your mind refused to acknowledge.

You lifted a gloved hand and slid the key into the lock.

The door opened instantly.

And then, there was Bucky.

His gaze collided with yours, stealing the air from your lungs. He didn’t move. Just stood there, watching you, burning you into his memory like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

Then his hands were on you.

Your gasp was swallowed by his mouth crashing against yours, desperate and deep, like he had something to prove, like he needed you to know that six years hadn’t dulled his hunger for you.

You melted, even though you knew better.

You knew this was dangerous. That this wasn’t just about lust, or longing, or the years between you. But none of it mattered as you wound your arms around him, tangling your fingers in the dark curls you missed too damn much.

Bucky groaned, dragging you flush against him. His hands roamed lower, exploring this new version of you, the one with fuller curves, wider hips, a body that had known things he hadn’t been there to witness.

He needed to erase it all.

He deepened the kiss, his breath ragged as he backed you against the wall, pinning you there, swallowing the soft sound you made.

God, that sound.

He had dreamed about it.

You pulled back. Your lips were swollen, your breath uneven, you were beautiful. But there was something else in your eyes.

A flicker of hesitation.

Bucky smirked.

He didn’t want to talk. Not tonight. He wanted to taste you, to relearn every inch of you. 

He brought your hand up to his mouth, taking the glove off your hand with his teeth, one finger at a time.

Your mind short circuited, forgetting what you wanted to say, the only thought that your panties would burst into flames, but the liquid at your center would surely put the fire out.

Bucky Barnes was still so goddamn hot.

“You staying?” 

His voice was hoarse with desire.

Your lips parted slightly. Then, slowly, you nodded. That was all he needed.

With deliberate slowness, he backed you toward the couch, his blue eyes never leaving yours.

He didn’t know why you left.

Didn’t know why you were in Vegas.

Didn’t know how long he had.

And tonight, he wasn’t asking.

"Missed this," he murmured against your throat, his breath hot, his fingers digging into the roundness of your ass. His voice sent a shiver down your spine.

He turned you, fingers finding the zipper of your dress. You felt it slide down, the cool air kissing your bare skin as the rich fabric slipped from your shoulders, revealing the decadent silk and lace beneath.

Bucky let out a rough exhale.

The longline bra molded perfectly to your curves, the underwire and boning lifting your breasts high, the lace trim barely concealing your peaked nipples. The silk garter belt cinched your waist, accentuating the swell of your hips, its straps fastened to sheer stockings that clung to your legs like a whisper.

Bucky groaned low in his throat, his hands ghosting over your sides, gripping, kneading. 

“Jesus, Doll… you always did know how to drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he rasped.

He trailed a finger along the edge of your bra, teasing you through the lace with his knuckles grazing the soft swell of your breast. 

“Look at you… all wrapped up like a goddamn present,” he muttered, voice thick with reverence.

His hands slid down, and his thumbs traced slow, reverent paths along the edge of your garter, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin of your thighs. He tilted his head, lips curving against your jaw.

“Been dreamin’ about this,” he whispered, voice dripping with possession. 

“And now it’s real.”

You shivered beneath his touch, and Bucky smirked, satisfied. He trailed his fingers lower, slipping beneath the garter belt to palm your ass, squeezing greedily, pulling you flush against him.

“Missed these fuckin’ curves,” he groaned, rolling his hips against you, letting you feel just how hard he was, how much he needed you.

He was losing patience. Six years was too damn long.

His hands found the hooks of your bra, and he made quick work of them, peeling the garment from your body and tossing it over his shoulder. He pulled back for just a second, just long enough to admire the sight of you, bare, breathless, your eyes fully dilated.

“Damn, Doll” he whispered, voice almost reverent. 

Then his mouth was on you, trailing down your neck hotly, over your collarbone, lower, until his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking, groaning when your fingers tangled in his hair, when your body arched into his mouth.

“Feel so good,” he murmured against your skin, voice wrecked.

His hands roamed lower, curling around your thighs, gripping hard as he lifted you effortlessly, walking you backward until your spine hit the cool surface of the wall.

Bucky looked up at you then, eyes burning, voice nothing but gravel.

“Hold on tight, Baby. I ain’t letting you go this time.

Bucky pressed a kiss into you, his hard length grinding against your soaked panties. The heat of him, the sheer size of him, had you trembling.

"Need inside you, Doll… so fucking hard for you," he groaned, his voice rough with need.

You gasped as he rocked into you, your damp panties and his boxers doing little to separate the friction between you. Your hips rolled in response, dragging a throaty grunt from his lips.

"Fuck!"

Bucky hooked a finger into your panties, yanking them to the side. The first brush of his bare cock against your slick folds sent a shudder through you. It was heaven. The aching kind. The kind you felt.

"Bucky, please!"

You needed to feel him again after so long.

His thick cock slid through your folds, coating himself in your arousal, teasing your clit with every slow stroke. You felt everything, the ridges, the veins, the swollen head nudging at your entrance.

At the same time, his mouth latched onto your nipple, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. His calloused fingers kneaded the roundness of your ass, pulling unashamed whimpers from your throat.

"Mine," Bucky growled.

Your breath hitched. But just as you prepared for that first, deep thrust, he pulled back.

You gasped in protest.

"Gonna fuck you proper, though. In a bed."

You let out a breathless laugh as Bucky scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to his bedroom. He laid you out, spreading your legs as he loomed over you, devouring the sight. His manicured nails dragged over your thighs in a slow, teasing stroke.

Your breath stuttered with anticipation.

"Be a good girl for me," he murmured, eyes dark with intent. "And grab my hair if you need to."

Confusion flickered in your eyes, until you felt your legs being thrown over his shoulders. Then, Bucky was between your thighs.

You scrambled up on your elbows, heat rushing to your face as he spread you open with two fingers, stroking the sensitive, slick folds hidden beneath. His gaze locked onto your glistening sex, mesmerized.

"So beautiful, Lark."

Your breath came in shallow gasps as he ran his fingers through your wetness, spreading it.

"So wet… dripping… coating my fingers, Baby."

The filthy words, the intensity of his stare, made fresh arousal seep from you. Your inner walls clenched around nothing, aching for more.

"Pinch those nipples for me," Bucky rasped,

Your lips parted in shock, but his stare was unwavering. With a shaky breath, you obeyed.

The added sensation sent pleasure rippling through you, making your back arch, your ass pressing into the mattress as Bucky pumped his fingers nice and slow. The other hand fisted around his cock, stroking in time with the movement inside you.

Your gaze dropped to watch him touch himself as he touched you. Fuck.

A gush of slick spilled from you. Bucky cursed under his breath, scissoring his fingers, stretching you, preparing you.

"So fucking tight, Doll. Need to get you ready."

Then, his head dipped lower. Your gasp filled the room. Bucky smirked.

"Why so shocked?" he taunted. "You act like you haven’t had sex since I borrowed Johnny’s car—"

He stopped.

Your face must have given you away because his own softened instantly.

"Oh, shit."

His tone was different now, understanding. 

"It’s okay, Baby. I got you."

Determination flashed in his blue eyes as he leaned down again, brushing a featherlight kiss against your most sensitive place. It was intimate. Like he was kissing your mouth.

Then, he licked into you, slow and deliberate, and your world shattered. Lightning coursed through your veins as your thighs instinctively clamped around his head. Your fingers fisted in his curls, tugging mercilessly.

Bucky groaned in approval, his tongue swirling, sucking, worshiping. Every swipe, every firm drag, every deep flick had you writhing beneath him, riding his face, chasing oblivion.

When he pried your thighs apart and plunged two fingers back inside, curling them just right, you detonated. 

Your orgasm ripped through you, your body seizing, your walls fluttering around his fingers as a flood of wetness spilled into his mouth.

"Bucky!"

He pulled back, lips glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction.

"S’okay, Baby. It’s natural."

Then he leaned down again. And drank from you like a man dying of thirst.

You whimpered, overwhelmed, your body trembling as he held you down, refusing to let you escape. The overstimulation was brutal, unbearable.

Too much, too good.

"Really have been such a good girl for me…" he murmured against your sensitive skin.

Then, his voice dropped to something sinful.

"Gonna give you this cock you been waiting for."

When he finally kissed you, his lips slick with you, the last shred of restraint dissolved.

You moaned into his mouth as he lined himself up, dragging the thick, swollen head of his cock through your drenched folds. He parted your lips, teasing you with tiny, torturous strokes. Then, with a sharp slap, he tapped his cock against your clit, making you cry out.

"Shit, Doll…" 

Bucky’s voice was strained, his jaw tight as he fought for control. You rolled your hips, desperate, pleading.

"Inside, please!"

"You’re gonna feel… so… goodddd…"

He bit it out through clenched teeth as he pushed forward slow, steady, and stretching you inch by inch. You choked on a moan as he filled you. He was so big. You had forgotten how thick, how deep, how perfect he felt inside you.

"Ohhhhhh, Bucky!"

"Right here, Baby."

His eyes locked onto you, greedily drinking in your bouncing breasts, your trembling stomach, the way your body took him. The sight alone nearly ended him. His head dropped back, his grip on you tightening as he bottomed out, grinding his hips into yours, making you wail in pleasure.

"You feel amazing… so fucking good. Never felt anything like this, I swear, Lark."

Your walls clenched around him, and Bucky’s face twisted, his control slipping.

"I need you to cum all over my dick."

You gasped as his hand found your clit, circling it with the same practiced precision that always ruined you. His other hand pinched your nipple, sending another bolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"Cum for me, Doll."

You had no choice. Your body seized, pleasure obliterating you as you came, gushing around his cock, wave after wave of ecstasy rolling through you.

Bucky’s grip turned bruising as he drove into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt. His breath caught. 

"Mine!" he growled. 

And his release filled you, thick and hot, as his body shuddered violently against yours.

And in that moment, tangled together, sweat-slicked and sated, you both knew

You were his again.

—--

Bucky collapsed beside you, chest heaving, staring blankly at the ceiling.

You did the same, but while he was basking in the afterglow, warmth spreading through his chest like hope, your stomach twisted into knots.

"Where you going, Lark?"

His voice was thick with exhaustion, but he still caught the way you shifted, the way your body tensed before you sat up.

"Bathroom," you murmured, already moving. "Need to clean up."

Something flickered in his eyes, something soft, something real. But the moment you slipped away, his hope dimmed just a little.

You disappeared into the harsh fluorescent glow of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

—--

Bucky sat at the edge of the bed, watching as you slipped your shoes back on. You moved quickly, deliberately. Like you’d planned your exit before you ever walked through his door.

"You don’t have to run out like this," he said, voice rough.

You hesitated, just for a second, before fastening your coat.

"I have to get home."

Bucky’s fingers flexed against the sheets.

"Home."

He rolled the word over his tongue. He didn’t like the way it tasted.

Your gaze lifted, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered there, regret, and sorrow buried so deep he almost missed it.

Bucky nodded, jaw tight. He had questions. Too many. But he knew you wouldn’t answer them.

So he let you go.

But that didn’t mean he was letting this go.

—-----

Bucky sat in the back of the Continental, silent as Steve drove.

He hadn’t said a word since Steve muttered, “I’ll take you to where she lives.”

Vegas never slept, but the streets were quiet this early. Bucky stared out the window, jaw clenched.

He should’ve stopped you from leaving. Should’ve asked the damn questions instead of letting you walk out. But you were good at slipping away. You’d done it before.

Not this time.

Steve glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"You sure about this?"

Bucky’s eyes stayed on the road ahead.

"Just drive."

Steve sighed but didn’t argue. The car veered off the Strip, where the lights weren’t as bright, where the buildings weren’t as tall, where the money wasn’t as loud. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood, but it sure as hell wasn’t where Bucky expected you to be.

The car slowed.

A modest duplex came into view, its porch light flickering on.

Bucky barely registered anything beyond you were here. Until he saw the front door open.

You stepped out, wrapped in a housecoat, makeup gone, hair wrapped in a scarf. Then you walked to the neighboring unit. And knocked. The door cracked open.

And out ran a little boy.

Bucky sat up straighter, his breath hitching as the kid bolted toward you, dark messy hair bouncing, big blue eyes shining as he laughed, launching himself into your waiting arms.

You caught him effortlessly, hugging him close, whispering something into his ear.

Like you’d done it a thousand times before.

Because you had.

The realization hit like a bullet to the ribs.

You had a son.

Bucky’s world tilted.

Then, the boy’s voice, small and sleepy, carried through the quiet street.

"Mama, you’re home."

His breath left him in a rush.

"Yes, Jamie, I’m home."

Steve tensed, hands gripping the wheel.

Bucky’s hands curled into fists.

"Buck—"

"Drive," he rasped. The word barely made it past his lips.

Steve hesitated.

"Now."

The car pulled away, but Bucky’s eyes stayed locked on you.

Six years.

Six years, and you had kept this from him.

—---

The moment Jamie crashed into your arms, the world melted away.

"Mama, you’re home!"

You exhaled shakily, smoothing his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Miss Thea stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her housecoat, watching with quiet understanding. She didn’t ask questions. Never had. Just gave you a slow nod before retreating inside.

Jamie yawned, burrowing into your shoulder, his little arms tightening around your neck.

"You smell funny," he mumbled sleepily.

You huffed a quiet laugh, shifting him in your arms.

"Yeah? What do I smell like?"

Jamie blinked up at you, barely awake.

"Like trouble," he sighed.

Your breath caught.

A chill danced down your spine, one you always felt when Bucky was near. Slowly, your eyes lifted, scanning the street.

Nothing. No car. No sign of him. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been here.

You swallowed hard, clutching Jamie closer as you stepped inside, locking the door behind you. You couldn’t shake the feeling.

Bucky knew.

And no matter how much you wanted to believe you could keep him away….You knew better.

James Buchanan Barnes was coming for you.

For both of you.

[sarahowritesostucky]

Happy Little Family

����"Taking Back What's His"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6170

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

This chapter: You try one last, desperate ploy to escape, but it doesn't exactly work out. And James hasn't come alone. The next time you wake up, you're a long way from home.

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one" pchelka = "little bee"

2. Taking Back What's His

(Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)

He says something to you, after. Words that might as well be in his native Russian, for how well you take them in. But they're soft, and reassuring—he’s pleased. His body weight moves off the bed.

When you finally open your eyes and blink up at the ceiling, it’s the softest baby pink all around the edges, like smoke curling into your vision. It’s nice, peaceful. Feels good-all-over in that way that painkillers do. You haven’t experienced it since the last time you had sex with an alpha.

Which James unfortunately seems to have figured out was with him, almost two years ago. 

“Oh, kotenok, You haven’t been fucking anybody.” 

You’re still in the afterglow, mind muzzy, all of your previous panic and fear blunted near to the point of erasure with how nice it feels to float, when you hear James’ pleased chuckle from where he’s getting dressed. He comes back and leans over you. “Hey Sweetheart. Feeling good?” 

You frown at him, though it takes a concerted effort to make any expression of displeasure. You want him to know you aren’t happy, that this state he’s fucked you into isn’t real. You want to slap that smug fucking look right off his face. All you manage to come up with is a pouty little “no" that makes James laugh.

“Come here.” He fixes your dress, then helps you up off the bed. He seems to be checking to make sure you’re steady on your feet before he lets you stand on your own. “You good?”

“M’fine.” He knows you too well, knows how intense it can be for you, how strongly you react to him. You avoid his knowing gaze. You’re not completely useless like this. You can still remember everything that’s going on, can still remember June. “Please,” you say again, trying to change the tone of your voice. “Let me give her to Hilde.”

James rolls his eyes. “Right, right. Your friend across the street.”

“Please James?” You look up at him, pink edges all around his face, so pretty. Goddamn him. “She’ll be safe there.”

Again, something passes through his eyes too quickly for you to identify. It might be annoyance. He sighs, and the look, whatever it was, is gone. “Sure thing, Doll. Babies need a lot of stuff. You might as well pack up what she needs.”

You nod tearfully, going to your closet to grab a bag. He follows close behind, sending a clear message that he’s not planning on letting you out of his sights while you do this. James isn’t stupid, you’ll give him that.

In the nursery, June is happy to see you and wants you to pick her up. You talk to her in a sweet, placating voice as you go around the room grabbing different things that she’ll need and stuffing them in the bag. At this point you know to be grateful for the haze. Even as it tapers off, it’s blunting the sorrow that you know would otherwise have you sobbing and your voice clogging with tears. This way at least, you’re able to keep June thinking everything is alright. This way she isn’t scared. 

It’s when you’re crouched beside the changing table, stuffing diapers into the bag with James behind you that you get the idea: Downstairs: the kitchen: in the drawer. Your gun.

You stop moving long enough that James notices. “What’re you doing? Come on.”

You stand back up. Yes. You have to do it. This is the only chance you have at getting out of this and not losing June. You lick your lips nervously before turning back around to face him. “I … have to get her bottles and stuff from downstairs,” you say, hoping that the lingering post-coital haze is enough to keep your true intentions off your face. Your eyes flick up to James, who’s squinting at your tits.

“Bottle?” He starts to smirk, and you glare at him.

“Yes. Asshole. I won’t exactly be around to feed her, now will I?” 

His face softens at that and he gives you an apologetic look. “Right. Well go on, then.” 

You move for the hallway, realize he’s not following you, and turn back in confusion. He’s beside the crib, holding his hand out for June to touch. Your heart leaps from your spot in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m waiting right here until you come back upstairs,” he says, his message clear. 

Your pulse picks up, but you force yourself to nod. You’re useless without that gun. You have to get to it. He narrows his eyes at you while June giggles and reaches for his wiggling fingers. “No games.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, and turn and head for the stairs. 

It’s pure torture to move at a casual speed, especially as your mind is clearing and the fearful emotions returning. In the downstairs hallway, you check once over your shoulder that James hasn’t followed you, then pick up your pace, hurrying into the kitchen and heading straight for the drawer where you keep the gun.

Your eyes tear up as you maneuver past the digital lock that you installed for nothing. June’s still crawling. She never even got old enough to toddle over here. You press the code into the keypad, cringing when it does its quiet little two-tone ‘beep’ at being unlocked. You wait, heart in your throat until you hear the mechanism moving, then rip open the drawer. 

Your heart stops and your brain freezes and all you can think is: No. No, no no— 

“Looking for this?” 

You whirl around, and there he is: standing on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the sink as he holds your only weapon in his hands.

His face is relaxed, Goddamn him, as he pretends to ignore your horror and instead holds the gun up to flippantly inspect it. “I have to say, Doll, I’m impressed. I would’ve expected some puny girl gun. Ruger, Derringer. But this?” He turns the Skorpion in his hands, and chuckles softly when he sees the cartridge. “Jesus. You really wanted to blow a hole in somebody, didn’t you?” His eyes finally drag up to you, the hand he’s holding the gun with dropping down by his side as he starts walking over, slowly, step by step, eyes boring into you with a growing anger.

Oh shit. Dread curls in your gut but you’re frozen. Bolting now wouldn’t even get you to the staircase. He presses in close, pinning you against the countertop. He brings the gun up and nudges your jaw with it, leaning in and breathing in your face, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find it, vorishka?”[little thief]

He’s taunting you with your own failure, and you can’t stop the whimper that breaks from your throat at having your one and only plan foiled so pathetically easily. “James,” you plead, “I didn’t—”

“Shh sh sh. None of that, now.”  He’s speaking softly, sweetly, but he’s furious. He drags his lips over your cheek and the barrel of the gun you stole from him over the other. “So what was the plan? How were you going to kill me with my own gun? Pop upstairs and shoot up the nursery?”

“N-no.”

“Ah. Right. You’re smarter than that. You would’ve waited for me to come down and see what the fuck was taking you so long, or put it in the duffle and waited until we dropped the whelp off at the neighbors. Is that it?"

You sniffle and nod, angry at him for being such an all-knowing asshole. “You can’t hold that against me,” you say, trying to defend yourself.

He nods thoughtfully. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose you’re right. I can’t blame you for that.” Your shoulders start to relax, that is until he pulls back to glare at you and holds the gun to you again, this time pointing it right underneath your chin. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “But do you know what I can hold against you, Little thief?” Your face pinches in fear, sure that you’re about to be shot, and he digs the muzzle cruelly into your skin, forcing you to look at him. “The fact that that pup up there is ten months old, and I’ve never even fucking seen her.” 

Your eyes widen as you realize: he knows. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but he beats you to it.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell she’s mine?” 

“James,”

“All this time!” he hisses, hurt lancing through his features. “You kept her from me! What gives you the right?” 

“I—I didn’t—”

He growls and pushes away from you, several steps back, glaring. “Nothing, is the answer you’re looking for. You had no right to do that.” 

You try to edge to the side, but freeze when he straightens his arm and points the gun right at you. “James, wait …”

He aims it at your face, but then lowers it for a center mass shot, which is what really convinces you you’re about to die. “Say goodbye, mamochka,” he says, with steely eyes and his finger curling over the trigger. 

It’s a submachine gun that fires in three shot bursts, or fully automatic. Either way, you know you’re about to be riddled with bullets, so you start to hyperventilate. It’s an embarrassing reaction, but at least you have the dignity of knowing what your last words on this earth would’ve been. “Don’t hurt her,” you gasp.

His eyes fill with rage and he pulls the trigger. 

… Nothing happens, but you’re bracing so hard that it takes you a full two or three seconds to realize it. Then, when you do realize it, and you see James standing there looking grim but completely unsurprised that you haven’t been shot, all of the breath rushes out of your lungs. You feel like you’re about to faint, which is apparently what he’s waiting for. 

He ejects the empty magazine, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really thought I’d do it, didn’t you?” He takes a step forward, but pauses when you flinch back. “What the hell have you convinced yourself that I am?” 

You step back again when he moves. “Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“Don’t, don’t,” he whispers, mocking you. “Don’t what? Don’t take back what’s mine? The mother of my pup? A pup I didn’t get to see grow or come into this world?” Your breath hitches with emotion and he doesn’t miss it, the bastard. “Yeah,” he says darkly. “You robbed me of that. But I’ll get over it, don’t worry.”  He leers up and down your body in its flimsy sundress. “I’ll be putting another one in you real soon.”

You see red. Fury sweeps through you and stings your eyes, roars in your ears. You grab the nearest thing to you, which is the edge of the utensils crock on the counter. It spills over and your hand closes around the handle of the meat mallet. You cry out and swing at him, wanting to smash his smug fucking face to smithereens. 

“Woah-ho, easy there.” He laughs and takes a surprised step back, as though you’re nothing but a tantruming child. “Stop being so dramatic.”

You growl and lunge for him again, but cut off in a shriek as someone suddenly grabs you from behind. The meat mallet clatters to the floor as you’re hauled back against the hard body of another man. One big arm wraps around your middle, and the other holds a cloth up at your face, pressing it over your mouth. “Mmph!” you yell out, muffled, and get a huge inhale of chlorine-like smell into your lungs for your trouble. You hold your breath and thrash, but it’s less than useless. The person holding you is large and strong. When you try to headbutt him, it doesn't even clip his chin. You bring your hands up to try and claw at the hand holding the cloth over your mouth, but your nails meet metal instead of skin, and you gasp in another inhale of chemicals as you realize who it is. “Mmph!”  

James steps up close, smirking fondly as he watches you fighting the urge to inhale. Eventually he tuts and reaches up to cup your cheek. “Shhh, omegechka. Stop. Stop fighting now. It’s all over.” 

“Nngh!”

“Just take a deep breath and go to sleep. Everything’ll be alright, I promise. Just relax.” You whimper as you feel yourself running out of air, knowing that your body’s going to force you to draw breath in a second. James leans in and kisses your forehead tenderly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, just as your vision starts to fade out, “or our daughter.”

The smell of professionally scented, circulating air hits you first, and then the taste of old pennies in your mouth. Then, a gradually increasing sense of awareness of your body in space and time. At first you think you're somewhere very bright, as colors and rainbows dance through your lashes, but the more you blink your eyes open, the more the brightness fades and your vision comes into focus.

And there he is: holding a crystal tumbler and looking like he's been waiting for you to come round. "Well hello there, Sleepyhead,” he says. “Welcome back." He takes a sip of whatever it is he’s drinking, the ice cubes clinking softly against the sides of the glass. He looks totally relaxed.

You sit up straighter in the seat where you’d been slumped, moving your tongue around inside of your dry mouth and trying to remember what happened. And then reality hits you in waves, each one more devastating than the last:

James—He found you. 

June—She's not there.

"How're you feeling? Thirsty?"

You blink, dazed, a few lingering specks still floating at the edges of your vision. You look around the room you’re in, clocking your surroundings. Windows, cabin—Shit. You're already on a plane. Pressure builds rapidly at the backs of your eyes as you fight not to cry, thinking of your baby girl left behind, never getting to see her again.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. 

Bucky’s eyes sharpen on you when your stifled sob breaks out and you throw a hand over your mouth. "Steve,” he says, still watching you in concern. “Get her a bottle of water."

“Sure thing, boss.”

And then the worst realization of all: You look over and see the winter fucking soldier walking down the aisle, holding your baby.

They've got June.

Your eyes widen and you make a distressed little ‘meep’ of a sound. “Steve!” you blurt, and he turns to face you. He looks surprised that you’ve spoken directly to him. He’s not wearing his usual black mask, but he still looks huge and intimidating, and it’s like seeing a wild animal right next to your baby—dangerous, wrong. Your mouth works uselessly as you stare at his hands on June’s body: one supporting her head, and the metal one scooped under her butt. You see her back rise and fall steadily through her bumblebee onesie and you realize that she’s asleep. “I-is she okay?” you ask, heart in your throat. 

Steve’s eyes narrow at you, but he nods curtly. “She’s fine.” 

Across from you, James scoffs, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s going to put her down. There’s a crib in the back. She’ll be fine,” he says, when he sees you stiffen in protest. “You and I have some catching up to do, vorishka.”

“I thought we did that back in my bedroom,” you snap.

“You still want the water?” Steve asks.

“That’s okay.” Bucky keeps his eyes on you. “I’ll take care of her. You just stay back there with pchelka while she sleeps.” 

Steve nods, and you can’t help yourself. “Wait! Please. Please give her to me. Steve?” You sit forward with your arms outstretched, but can only watch helplessly as the other man obeys Bucky and ignores you, disappearing back into the next section of the plane. Bastard never did like you. 

“She’ll be fine,” Bucky assures you. “Just sit back and relax. We won’t be in the air for too long.”

You hate it, but you do sit back in the chair. James won’t hurt her. You know that. Especially now that you know he knows. You look around the cabin, taking in the wide, leather seats and gleaming wood finishes. There’s a couch, tv, a bar. A fucking electric fireplace. It's the sort of luxury you used to go starry-eyed over; incredibly rich men, fat or old or ugly, tripping all over themselves to spoil you.

… Only, James was never any of those things.

“This is your plane?” you ask, dragging your hand over the arm of your seat.

James smirks. “What? You thought I’d kidnap you and then fly commercial?” 

You purse your lips at his joke. “I guess not.” You relax back, trying to get your bearings. It is bad news that you’re already on a plane with him. You’ll be landing at his private airstrip at the Siberia compound, which gives you no middle ground to run. You bite your lip as your thoughts race and you try to think of anything you might be able to do once you get to—

“Stop it,” James says quietly, drawing your attention back to him. He’s giving you a stern look. “You barely got away before, and that was on your own. Now we’ve got our daughter. Anything you try will put her in unnecessary danger and you know that.” He shakes his head, some of that sadness from before creeping back into his eyes. “You’re not leaving me again, omegechka.”

“I’m not?” you echo, stuck in place by his stare, by the memories you share with him, and the fear you have of what he’s planning for your punishment. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m just taking back what’s mine, Sweetheart. You do realize that?” You fail to answer him and his gaze hardens just a little bit. “That’s okay. You’ll see it eventually. This isn’t a bad thing. If you had just stuck around a little longer instead of lying to me and running off, then you would’ve seen it before, and we wouldn’t have to be going through this right now.” He raises his drink to you in a little salute. “You, me, and pchelka? We’re going to be a family.”

You don’t refuse the water he gives you, or the drink that he mixes for you, after. If James wanted to keep you drugged up until reaching Siberia, he certainly could’ve done so without allowing you to wake up on the plane. You’re only conscious right now because he wants you to be. And because you know that, you don’t protest the drink he prepares for you over at the bar. To be honest, a stiff one actually sounds really good right about now.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he hands it over, still unmoored by this drastic shift in circumstances. A few hours ago you’d been safe in your cottage, then suddenly you weren’t. One minute you’re sure you’re about to get a bullet in the face from this man, and the next, he’s got you sipping thousand dollar vodka on his private jet, calmly explaining how he intends to keep you and force you into some twisted form of domestic bliss. 

“I had a whole renovation done for her,” he tells you. “Pchelka will have plenty of room to play and grow.”

You frown, hating the idea of your daughter growing up in that cold, Siberian fortress. You don’t care if he’s bought her an indoor waterslide and a herd of ponies. It’s no place for a child. “What does that mean?” you ask grumpily. “That word: chelk—? You keep using it. You can’t just rename my daughter.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he wipes it away fast. “Pchelka means little bee. The outfit you put her in has bees on it.”

“Oh … Right.” You love that set. It’d been another gift at the shower, from Hilde.

“And she’s my daughter too,” James says tightly.

You gulp at the bitterness in his tone, at his eyes boring into you with reproach. It’s silly, but you do feel bad about hurting him in this one way, at least. “Her name is June,” you offer quietly.

His face draws tight with emotion that’s impossible for you to decipher. Mostly you just sense hurt coming off of him, tingeing his scent and making it into something mournful and awful. He stares at you for a long time. “You made me think you’d lost it,” he eventually whispers. “How could you do that to me?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“No you’re not. You’re just sorry that I found you.”

“I saw you kill people, James!” you cry. “I saw who you really are. I couldn’t stay. Not after that.”

His mouth ticks up at the corners. “Oh, Sweetheart. You’ve got no idea who I am, or what I’ve done for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes gleam and he lifts his drink, tipping back the last of it. “Do you even remember where we met?” 

You frown. “Of course.” You’d met him on a yacht, off the coast of Greece. At a party you’d been paid to attend as one of a flock of similarly hired ‘pretty girls’. Five hundred bucks just to sit around and drink cocktails for a few hours and make whoever owned the yacht look like a successful playboy. James had taken one look at you and made it his mission to charm you off of that boat with him. And you’d fallen for it, hook line and sinker. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t know as much as you think you do,” he says disdainfully. “Don’t know how lucky you really are. I saved you.”

You scoff. “You’re no different from those boat guys. You think you’re so special, God’s gift to omegas, I get it.”

“No,” he grits. “You really don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know! I know what I saw. All over the floor of your goddamn office. I slipped in it for Christ’s sake!”

“Right, right. The men you saw me kill,” he says, referencing the scene you’d walked in on just before you’d faked your miscarriage and fled. “You were eavesdropping outside the door, weren’t you, Little thief?”

You jut your chin out. “Yes. So what?” 

“You know, I’d always assumed you heard the entire conversation. Now I realize I was wrong.” 

“What?”

He laughs under his breath—at your expense, you suspect. “Who exactly do you think they were?”

“Your business associates. The same sort of underworld, black market scum as you. Only they didn't work for you. You screwed them over and they were there to collect what you owed them, and you murdered them instead.”

James scoffs and smiles angrily, sticking his tongue into his cheek as he looks away in frustration. "Figures," he mutters.

“What?” you snap. “You’re gonna deny it?”

“I’m not denying anything. But I killed them for you.”

“Oh please. Just stop it. Stop lying! I know what you do for work.” 

Granted, you'd been a little slow on the uptake back then, too enamored and swept up in the whirlwind romance with your first Alpha that you hadn’t ever stopped to wonder where his money came from, or where it was he jetted off to “on business” every few days. It’d taken a year for you to piece it together, to see the true magnitude of the enterprise he ran, and how dark it really was.

Sitting in front of you now, he doesn’t deny it, which only bolsters your disdain for him. “I don’t want that in my life,” you hiss. “Arms dealing, drugs, smuggling, mercenaries. And apparently human trafficking as well.”

His eyes flash. “They don’t call it that, you know. It’s called the ‘skin trade’.”

“I don’t care.”

He gets up to go pour himself another drink at the bar. “Right,” he snaps, like you’re an idiot. “You’re so fucking naïve, krasotka [pretty (n.)]. So convinced that I’m the devil. But you have no idea how much worse it could’ve been for you.”

“You threatened to sell your own daughter before you figured out she was yours!”

Refusing to be provoked, he returns to stand right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him towering over you. “I knew she was mine from the second I walked in that house,” he says, making your breath catch. 

“How?”

He smiles nastily and takes a sip from his drink, then sets it aside. He leans over you with his hands on the back of your seat, caging you in. You can smell the expensive alcohol on his breath as he gets in your face and tells you, “I put that baby in you, moya omegya. She’s a part of me. You think I wouldn’t be able to figure that out? Think an Alpha doesn’t know the scent of his own flesh and blood?”

You tense, fighting not to shrink away. “You’re making that up.”

He chuckles lowly and puts his face right next to yours, cheek to cheek, savoring your reaction. “Sweetheart,” he purrs, “I may not have forced a mating bite on you back then like I should have, but there are other ways to leave your mark on someone.” He dips in to kiss your neck, right over your unbitten glands. “I found you by your scent,” he whispers. “Sniffed you out.”

You shiver at his hot breath on your skin and the deadly soft tone of his voice. The way your body responds to him isn’t anything you can control, and he knows that, but it still makes you flush with embarrassment when he takes a deep inhale in the bend of your neck and hums with satisfaction when he smells the effect he’s had on you. “I wouldn’t have sold her anyway,” he tells you, pulling back and picking up his drink. “I want you to know that. I don’t participate in the skin trade.”

You swallow thickly, watching him watch you as he waits for you to react to him in some way. You don’t know why you believe him about this one thing, but you do. “But you’re aware of it,” you say. “You know it happens, and you don’t do anything to stop it.”

His jaw works in frustration. “I’ve interfered a time or two, when I could get away with it.”

“Well, aren't you a hero.”

“I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I’ve done what little I could. These men make a lot of money dealing in omegas, and they don’t take kindly to being stolen from.”

“I can imagine.”

“No,” he mutters into his drink. “You really can’t.”

There’s something oddly bitter in his tone, like he's working hard not to tell you something. You bite your lip and watch him for a minute. “... How much?” you ask.

“What?” His eyes darken when he figures out what you’re asking. “No.”

“Tell me.”

“It depends,” he grits, glaring at you. "Now cut it out."

Sober, you might have; but half a vodka spritzer after nineteen months of no alcohol has you bolder than you usually would be. You look down at yourself, feigning flippancy. “Well what about me? How much would I go for?”

“Kotenok,” he warns lowly, growling when you continue to press him with a snotty little, 

“Come on, I thought you were such a dangerous criminal? You can’t even discuss a little human trafficking with the weak omega you just trafficked?” 

He probably knows you’re trying to antagonize him, but he still rises to the bait. He sits back and lets his eyes drag over your body in a way that makes your pulse pick up. “Well,” he drawls, “you just had a baby. So that’s less right there.” Your nostrils flare angrily and he gives you a look. “You’re the one who asked,” he reminds, waiting until you give him a nod to continue. He gives you another onceover, this time lingering in certain places longer, a softer look in his eyes for the softer parts of your body. He almost seems to get distracted. He catches himself overindulging and looks away, like it’s hurting him to consider you this way. “Most people want their omegas untouched,” he says quietly. “Especially if the buyer's alpha, which they usually are. It’s an instinctual thing for us. We’re very driven to possess. We don’t like to share.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you mutter.

His gaze snaps back to you, a painful amount of familiarity in his eyes. “You’dve been a couple million, back when we first met.”

Your eyes widen. You weren't expecting that. “But … I wasn’t even a virgin.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I said untouched, not virginal. Not in that way. Alpha buyers want unbonded and never bred, first and foremost.” He leers at you. “Not that there aren’t some who’ll pay a little extra to pop a girl’s cherry. But that’s not the main thing they’re looking for, when they buy.” 

You scowl. “Right. So I guess I’m damaged goods now."

“Oh no, mamochka,” he says seriously. “You’ve only gone up in value in my eyes. Though believe me when I say I’m more than happy to contribute to the depletion of your market value." He raises his glass to his lips, looking darkly pleased. “You’re not for sale, and you never will be. You’re mine.”

You're embarrassed to be the one to break eye contact first, but you can’t keep listening to him talk about how much he likes you and watching him look at you like you’re his most prized possession. With any other man you’d just be disgusted, but James has always had a knack for getting you flustered, and he knows it. There’s always been an inexplicable pull between the two of you, and he knows that, too. It’s the main reason why you've always refused his attempts to bond you. You're terrified of what it’ll be like after, since you already know how pathetically helpless you are around him without a bond.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you mumble quietly. “Where is it?” 

“Just down there.” He nods in the direction behind you, opposite from where Steve had gone with June.

You press your lips together and get up without looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time you’re walking away.

“Don’t take too long in there, kotenok,” he purrs from back in his seat. “Or I’ll have to come in after you.”

In the bathroom, you splash water on your face and lean against the sink, looking at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. You blink, and she blinks, but it feels like you’re looking at another person, someone you don’t know. She looks fragile. Tired, and dazed. June’s been sleeping through the night for months, but it’s been a hell of a day.

You scrutinize your reflection, smoothing your dress and tucking your hair behind your ears, thinking about how you have zero makeup on. Then you scoff at yourself for caring what you look like in front of him. You think about how much you’ve changed in the seventeen months since you ran away. Not just physically, but mentally. You’ve had to be so strong. For June, for yourself. It’s been awful, and lonely, and you’ve hated yourself for not being able to stop missing him. 

You sniffle and splash more water on your face, grumpily thinking that postpartum hormones are so much worse than the pregnancy ones. You grab the towel off the wall, but freeze when you bring it up to pat your face dry and get a smell of it.

Oh.

You whimper, unable to keep from pressing it harder to your mouth and nose and inhaling deeply. It’s James’ scent, and it smells so good. It smells like Safety and Love and Alpha. You hear the sound of your own, needy mewl and you gasp, yanking the towel away from your face and tossing it into the sink, trying to keep your shit together. You brace your hands on the counter and glare at your reflection to tell her to stop it, stop it, stop it, but all it takes is seeing your lower lip quiver, and soon your entire face is collapsing in long-repressed sadness. You turn away from the mirror with a pathetic noise, throat aching from the urge to keen. 

Why does this have to be happening?! You’ve tried so hard, for so long. To be strong for June, to get over him, to move on! You bury your face in your hands and choke on a wrenching sob. You know you have to be quiet, have to stop, have to pull yourself together before he—

A soft knock comes from outside the bathroom. “Doll?”

You whine and hastily search for a lock on the door, but there is none, and James hears your crying and pulls the door open. “Honey,” he mourns when he sees you. “What’s wrong?” 

You push past him, hurrying in the direction he isn’t blocking. “Leave me alone!” you cry, hating the blubbering in your voice that makes you sound just as weak as James thinks you are. You arrive in a perfectly made up bedroom with no point of egress other than the one you arrived through. You whine in distress, circle around helplessly, and then throw yourself onto the bed when he arrives at the doorway looking worried. “Leave me alone!” you cry, curling onto your side and pulling one of the pillows down to bury your face in. At least it isn’t suffused with James’ scent. You still cry though, unable to keep it in anymore now that you’ve started.

He tuts sadly from the doorway and comes into the room slowly. He stands there for a long minute, silent, before he sighs and his weight comes onto the bed. “Sweetheart,” he says.

“Just leave me alone,” you whine miserably. “Go away!”

“Shh sh sh.” He curls up behind you, arms around your waist and legs pushing in behind yours. He kisses your shoulder and hugs you, but it only makes you cry harder at how achingly familiar it is. “It’s okay,” he murmurs between kisses. He doesn’t try to get you to stop crying, or ask you what’s wrong. He seems to know exactly why you’re breaking down, and he simply devotes all his efforts to helping you calm down in your own time. “S’okay, s’okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he keeps saying, soothing you with a deep rumble in his chest. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. I’ve got you now. It’s all gonna be okay. Shhh.”

At first, his placating makes you angry, but not enough to stop your crying, and once that tapers off from sobs to quiet, sniffling tears, you can’t seem to dredge up the anger anymore. It isn’t there. 

“You feeling a little better?” he asks kindly, gently tucking your hair behind your ear and then hugging you again.

You whine when you feel his lips against your neck. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice coming out scratchy from all of the crying. You cringe and scrub your face into the pillow in embarrassment. “Just got a little sad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, giving you a supportive squeeze. “That’s okay.”

You hate how he says it, because it’s obvious that he knows why you were crying: Poor, sad little omega, bawling her eyes out over how much she’s missed her Alpha. He nuzzles into your neck, telling you it’s okay and that you’re allowed to cry. As much as you hate him being able to see into you so easily, you’re just grateful that he isn’t rubbing your face in it right now. The way he's holding you and comforting you feels good. You don’t fight to get away from him.

The two of you lie there together for what feels like a long time. Once you’ve stopped crying and are only giving the occasional sniffle for your runny nose, he goes back to running his hand over your side. It’s a gesture of comfort. He’s not groping you, but even still, you blush at the vulnerability of it. You find yourself glad that you’re facing away from him. 

The plane shifts noticeably, and James’ hand pauses on your hip. “Pilot said we’re landing soon,” he murmurs. “Should probably go and get pchelka up.”

You sniffle and fight off the urge of resurfacing tears at hearing him reference June. One day of knowing his daughter and already he’s got a nickname for her. You should be annoyed by that, but instead it just makes your heart squeeze with emotion. “Pchelka,” you whisper, trying out the word. 

“Yeah.” He hums happily and kisses your shoulder one last time. “Little bee. Come on. Let’s go.”

You don’t think about how it’s far too soon to have arrived at your destination, until you’re back in the main room of the cabin on the way to where Steve disappeared with June, earlier. You pause at the windows, peering out at the landscape. “This isn’t Russia,” you say, confused. The plane is definitely descending, but you’ve only been in the air for a few hours at most. “James?” you ask, as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Together, you both look out at the looming mountains and turquoise waters below. “Where are we?” you breathe.

James rests his chin on your shoulder and sighs happily. “Home,” he says. “We’re home.”

A.N.: See? Much less Rapey! Plenty more mega-dub con to come though, so don't you angst-lovers worry. Thanks for reading!💖Sarah

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[holylulusworld]

Overdue

Summary: You’re a strict librarian.

Pairing: Mafia!Steve Rogers x Librarian!Reader

Warnings/Tags: short reader, mafia au, size kink (Steve), kidnapping?

I changed by posting schedule to match @navybrat817's Monday ask. Go, have a look a her blog and stories.

I had this one in my finished WIPs so here we go with Steve Rogers saving us from our job and boring Mondays. :)

You yawn and rub your tired eyes. It’s a slow day today. The library is almost empty, except for two teens hiding between two shelves to make out. You give them a pass for now if they don’t overdo it.

You turn your attention toward the books on your desk. Your colleague left them there after their shift for you to take care of. Just like always, they are selfish and lazy.

You huff and throw the pencil in your hands onto the desk. Your eyes are blurry, and you are ready to fall asleep. With only the two teens around, you allow yourself to close your eyes for a moment.  

Close to drifting toward your favorite fantasy you sigh dreamily. Your bed is calling for you, and you already miss your fluffy pillows. “So…tired…”

The door suddenly slams open, hitting the wall and you shriek in terror. Even the teens stopped making out to watch a tall man step inside the library.

He sticks out of this place like a sore thumb in his black slacks, black turtleneck sweater, and expensive grey overcoat. You can’t see his shoes, but you assume they’re expensive too, just like the rest of his outfit.

“Hi,” you put on your best-faked smile. If only he stayed away, you could’ve daydreamed a little longer. “What are you looking for?”

“A book,” he gruffly replies, eyes roaming the library. It seems like he’s searching for more than a book. “Where do I find the—” His tongue darts out to wet his perfect pink lips, “law books?”

“On the left side, the third shelf. Are you looking for a specific book, Sir? I can tell you where to find it if you know the title,” you offer, but he shakes his head. He’s halfway toward the shelf before you end your sentence.

You huff and turn your attention toward the stack of books left on your desk. You still have to handle the books, check them for damage, scan them, and return them to the shelves.

Engrossed in your task you don’t hear the man return to your desk. He clears his throat, drawing your attention toward him. You flit your eyes up to watch him run his hand over his thick, but well-trimmed beard. His blue eyes search yours for moment before he speaks again.

“How can I help you, Sir?” you repeat the line you said so often in your life you can’t even count it anymore.

“I’m looking for a book,” he repeats, earning a smirk from you. “A specific book.”

“Do you have a title?” You slowly get up from your swivel chair and round the desk. “Sir?”

“Hmm…” he simply watches you step next to him. Compared to him, you’re small, tiny even. “You’re short.” He states a fact you already know about. “Very short.”

You frown at his attitude. Yes. You are short. This doesn’t give him the right to call you short. “What?”

“Oh, that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he takes a step closer to get a better look at you. “It’s cute, really.”

“Cute?” you are fuming and would love to shove your shoe up his ass. But you cannot risk getting caught while hurting a customer. “Do you know the title of the book, yes or no.” Your polite smile is fading, and you can barely hide that you’re pissed at the stranger.

“I know the title,” he lowers himself to whisper the title in your ear. “Do you have that one?”

“Yes,” you spin on your heels and march away, not waiting for him to catch up with you. He’s a stranger at this place, but you know it like the palm of your hand.

“You’re not very talkative,” he comments while following you.

“It’s not my job to entertain the people coming here. And it’s forbidden to be too loud at a library.”

“Ah,” he laughs. “You’re very strict, huh? I like someone following rules. I have a few too.”

“Hmmm…” you browse the shelf, finger sliding over the back of the books. “There it is.” You pull the book out of the shelf to hand it to the man. “That’s the one you are looking for.”

“You’re very helpful too,” he muses while his eyes roam your smaller figure. “How long are you working here?”

“Do you want to borrow the book? Are you already a member of our library? If not, you can fill out the application form.” You point toward the application forms on your desk. “I must warn you. Do not overdue the books, Sir.”

“Doll, do you honestly believe I came here for a book?” His features darken, and he licks those plump lips again. He dips his head to drink your trembling form in. “Do you?”

“What?” You splutter.

“You, out!” He jerks his head toward the teens. “Now!” They run out of the library, never looking back. “And you…” He turns back toward you, still that smirk on his lips, “will come with me.”

Your eyes widen in fear. “No.” You shake your head. “I won’t go anywhere with you. I don’t even know you, Sir.”

He chuckles darkly. Before you can blink you end up thrown over his shoulder. You slap him and scream. It’s no use. You wiggle and beg but he walks out of the library, with you hanging over his shoulder.

“I told you to take the day off, doll,” Steve laughs as you mutter under your breath. “Sometimes your man must take matters in his hands…”

Read more: In time

Tags in reblog.

[stuckyslut8]

I'm so very tamed now .part 2

Part 1. Masterlist.

A/N : don't know what took me so long to make a part 2 ( just life I guess)but her you go lovelies, sorry for the delay.

Pairing: mafia stucky x spy reader.(poly)

Summary: Bucky finally gets the information our of you, but you both manage piss steve off even more, so you have to deal with the consequences .

Warnning :poly stucky dom steve, bratty Bucky, sub reader , self proclaimed brat tamer Bucky,edging, spanking, angy steve 😡, a few tears. No beta reader. 18+ under the cut. Minors dni.

Bucky has you all spread out on his bed, hands cuffed to the bed, completely naked , completely at his mercy.

"are you gonna do something barnes or are you just gonna stare at me all day " you ask him mockingly.

"oh you'll see sweets." He says with a wicked grin, as he pulls out your favourite vibrator and before he pushes it into you , turning it up to the highest setting.

"ughh Bucky." You moan not being able to control your pleasure.

"see pretty girl, I don't have much time , steve is already annoyed so you better tell me everything." He asks as he tries not to palm himself at the sight of your but he couldn't resist he takee out his already hard cock and starts jerking off in front of you, adding to your pleasure.

"or -ughh - or what barnes?" You manage to say in between moans.

"or I'm gonna keep making ya cum until you can't." Your eyes widen at that.

"you see last time I edged ya ,it didn't turn out well so now I'm gonna make try something different." You came instantly as he said that.

"see that's my good girlz we'll see how long you can keep going before giving in." He said as hmm.

Five orgasms later , you still wouldn't budge.

"see I'm almost getting bored ,just spit it out already, the vibrator's battery is gonna die"

"that's all you got?" You challenged him

"fine , I'll do this my way." Bucky said as he pulled the vibrator away from you, looking at your wet pussy.

"see my poor pussy can't take it , she's exhausted.." he cooed as he collected some of your cum with his fingers and sucked them.

"don't tell me what I can take barnes."

"if you insist sweets." Bucky suddenly fills you up with his cock and starts pounding into you, lifting your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. You both moan, and grunt.

"now you better tell me sweets , who do you work for?" He asks as he fucks you into oblivion.

"ughh Bucky ... I'm gonna ." You said as you reached your high.

"me too angel, me too, now why don't you tell me ,so we can both come together ." You were about to give in Bucky knew, you just needed a little push.

"you know steve is gonna be very mad at me, if I don't get the information Outta you after all this trouble...so please tell me sweets,I swear I'll stay right by you whatever it is."

"fine fine...i ughh work for stark, stark sent me " you finally spit out the truth.

Just then steve came barging in the door, " steve i found the information, she works for..." Bucky was about to say .

"stark i know" steve finished his sentence" i just met him. " Not impressed by Bucky.

"well I just got the information Outta her, see i told you my tactics never fail." Steve rolled his eyes at Bucky's answers, although he was certainly aroused by the scene in front of him,you begging Bucky to let you cum.

"well of course I'll let you cum sweets, daddy is having a conversation right now wait a minute" the brunette man told you.

"stop being such a whore buck" steve yelled at him.

"you know you damn well love it steve, infact i know you're enjoying our doll begging to cum right now" while you were still whimpering begging Bucky to cum.

Steve was definitely aroused by the sight in front of him but tried to keep his composure.

"shut up Bucky, she's being a brat and you're only defending her." Steve said.

"she is brat and I'm not defending her , I'm punishing her can't you see?" Bucky asks

"damn well you are, look at her not one ounce of regret in her face,you're not making her relaise anything,you're just giving in to her bratiness."

"daddy please lemme cum" you beg him with doe eyes, Bucky is still in you , you try to fuck yourself on him, lifting your hips. "Just a minute sweets" Bucky says.

"no get off of her" steve says angrily.

"what the hell steve" but steve pushes Bucky aside before he could finish his sentence.

"I'm gonna show her what real punishment is and make her realise what she has really done to us, how much she's hurt us, so stop coddling her and move buck" steve says as he takes off his clothes.

"stevie.." i whimper as Bucky's thick cock is removed from your heat.

"shh shut up you brat ,you only call me sir from now, understood?" Steve said giving a hard spank to your dripping pussy making me moan.

"yes sir" steve flips you onto your stomach, you were waiting nervously as to what he was gonna do.

"now I'm gonna spank you properly you brat and you're gonna take it like a good slut and thank me alright " he says

"yes sir." All while Bucky watched the scene unfold in front of him, he knew you were in big trouble now but he enjoyed it at the same time.

"good girl do what daddy steve says " Bucky said .

Steve gave his first spank it was real, unlike the playful ones Bucky gave you, it stung almost leaving an impression.

"thank you sir." I say. *He spanks again.

"thank you sir"

*spank

*th thank you sir."

After 10 spanks , Steve stops leaving your bottom so red and your pussy dripping.

"you did so good doll taking your punishment like a good girl" Bucky said patting your head.

"thanks daddy" you manage to whimper.

"your punishment is not over yet brat." Steve says with a stern look.

"but.."

"no buts get on your knees .."

You do as he says, steve roughly grabs your hips and thrusts his hard cock in you, making you moan. "Ahh daddy.." steve pulled out immediately,and spanked you again." What do I tell you to calle me you brat.."

"sir?"

"yes and you'll only call me sir from now, no stevie, no daddy understood?" He said slapping my ass again.

"yes sir"

Bucky thought he was being a little too harsh on you. "Oh come on steve she just called you daddy she -" Bucky started to reason .

"you shut up punk or youre gonna be punished next." Steve said and went to sinking his cock back into your dripping cunt in one swift motion.

"ohh yess sir please-" you moaned

"please what you little slut?" Steve asked pounding into you ,making the bed shake, Bucky was happily jerking off to it at this point, knowing trying to defend you was pointless and that would only get you into more trouble, plus he knew steve would never hurt you,no matter how mad he was , he was only doing this because he was deeply hurt by your betrayal.

"please sir, fuck me, please don't stop." You pleaded .

"and why would I listen to you?" The blonde said.

"because...because..."

"because what ?" He said slamming his hips into you.

"because I love you and ...Bucky i uh-" tears we're streaming down your face at this point, both from the pleasure and the guilt of the whole situation,you knew you hurt steve and pushed him to this point.

Steve laughed mockingly. "Really you love- you love us? Don't lie you little slut" steve was about to cum but he contained himself not giving you the satisfaction.

"I'm not lying...i really, really love you both. I'm sorry about everything." A million things were going on Steve's mind.

Just then Steve's phone rang, he picked it up from the night stand while still in you.

"hmm alright I'll be there-" he spoke into the phone. He pulled out of you, leaving you whimpering.

"what happened baby?" Bucky asked , knowing something was wrong.

"nothing it's uh- take her to the safehouse right now, I'll go take care of some things."

Bucky knew better than to argue with steve at times like these so he only nodded.

Steve left the room, Bucky gently cleaned you up, while you were still getting out of the haze. "Pack your things baby." He said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"what's going on?" You finally decide to ask

"stevie's orders ,don't ask any questions for a while." He said .

And you complied, going on to pack some of your stuff ,but you had a pretty good idea of what's going on, you took your pistol from the hidden cabinet in your bathroom just in case .

[hellsenthero]

I'll Go Under (With You)

Ep.1 Back From Buisness

Mafia!Stucky X Fem!Reader

After a short business trip that took Steve away, you finally have your two boys home again.

Themes/Warnings: Smut, lots of it.

A/N: This is a series where each fic can be read as a oneshot as well as in any order, despite being numbered. Fics that have a second part will be marked accordingly.

MASTERLIST

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Your fingers grasped at the dark locks of hair between your legs. Simultaneously pulling the head away and pushing yourself closer to the delicious feeling at your center. A thumb rubbed you harshly and you came with a cry. Back arched and head thrown back in pleasure as you were worked through your orgasm.

With a last swipe of his tongue, Bucky stood and undid his belt. He didn't bother pushing his jeans down all the way as he took his hard cock out and sunk into your core.

"Fuck!" You cried as Bucky began thrusting in and out of you. Your dress was pooled at your hips, Bucky laying claim to your breasts with wet kisses.

"Gonna mark you all up," Bucky breathed as he fucked you. "Make sure our boy knows what you were doing while he was gone, yeah."

"More," you begged as you wrapped your legs around Bucky's waist. His left hand slid down to your ass and pulled you further in just as he gave a hard thrust. You swore you could feel him rearranging your insides. "So good." You breathed.

"Gonna make sure he tastes me when he eats you out tonight." Bucky taunted.

"Oh fuck!" You cried. Bucky's dirty talk always did things to you during sex. This afternoon he had some particularly slutty things to say.

"Gonna come on my cock?" He asked with a smirk. His blue eyes bore into you. Watching every bit of pleasure show up on your face.

"Yes!" You admitted, already feeling your legs tense up.

"Come on, baby. Come for me again." Bucky said as his thrusts grew sloppy. You knew he was close, and as that invisible tether in you pulled tighter, you knew you were right there with him.

"Oh my god." You moaned as that tether finally snapped. Your legs shook and your eyes closed. Bucky thrust a few more times before you felt him come inside of you. His cock pulsed with each spurt of come he shot into you.

"Fucking perfect," Bucky murmured as he pulled out of you. You hummed your acknowledgment, your pleasure clouded brain not coming up with the words to speak. "Try to keep that in till Stevie gets home." Bucky coached as he fixed your underwear over your leaking core.

"If you want Stevie to taste you so badly, just fuck his throat when he gets home." You said only half jokingly.

Bucky squeezed your hips tightly before taking a step back, his mouth curled into a full smile and he tucked himself back into his pants. "Such a dirty girl."

You kissed him briefly before pulling away and adjusting your dress. "You love it."

"I do," Bucky admitted before turning around and washing up at the kitchen sink. "Now go rest before our boy gets home."

You hopped off the kitchen island. "I'll lay out in the sun for a bit," you said as you made way to the patio door.

You were outside on the balcony when Steve came home. Bucky was at the stove, cooking dinner. As soon as you heard them speaking, you hopped off the lounger and slid back in through the open patio door. "Steve!" You cried as you shot yourself into his open arms.

"Hey baby," Steve breathed as he held you. He breathed in your scent. A combination of your shampoo and Bucky's cologne. "How's my favourite girl doing?"

"Better now that you're back," you answered, which earned a scoff from Bucky.

"What, did I not satisfy you enough?"

You waved your boyfriend off. "You know I'm always happiest when I'm with the both of you."

Steve gave you a soft kiss. "I know, darling girl."

"Go sit," Bucky ordered as he turned the stove off. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Sir, yes, sir," you giggled as you left the kitchen, hand in hand with Steve. "How was work?" You asked as you sat across from Steve at your dinner table.

"Not great, but I got some deals done." Steve answered.

"So you'll stay home for a while?" You asked.

"Yeah baby, we'll make sure that the next few deals are done in our area of town. Or Bucky will go, I know you must be sick of him by now."

"Hey!" Bucky yelled as you laughed at your boyfriend's antics. "Just for that," Bucky said as he sat a hot bowl of pasta down in front of you. "You'll be served last."

"Wow," Steve gasped, a hand thrown across his chest in mock dramatics. "After all I do for us."

"Suck it," Bucky shot back as he brought out the last serving for Steve.

"I was planning to," Steve answered with a wicked grin. "Before you got so rude."

Bucky grinned like the cat that got the mouse. No one else said anything as you all dug into your dinner. Bucky had made Steve's favourite dish for his return back. He hadn't been gone for long, less than a week, but you all hated any long distance from each other. You especially. You were prone to worrying about your boys' well-being when one of them was gone. With their dangerous line of work, one deal gone wrong could be the end of a life. After a few near-misses on their end and many panic attacks on yours, the boys worked out a system to almost always guarantee they were never gone at the same time. You found that when you had one of them by your side, the stress and anxiety you felt of the others' departure was significantly reduced.

"I'll just be a moment," Bucky said as he stood from the dining room table, pointing a finger at the cellphone ringing in his large hand.

You watched as Bucky walked out onto the balcony before Steve was reaching across the table and giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "He might be a bit, baby." Steve told you. You pouted as you began cleaning up the dishes. You only made it as far as the kitchen sink before Steve stopped you. "I'll do that after, right now I need to spend some time with you."

If you couldn't tell by the timber of your boyfriend's voice what he had in mind, then the slight bulge in his pants gave it away. "Lead the way, handsome." You answered with a coy smile.

Steve had you flat on the bed in record time. His muscled arms caging you in as he leaned above you. His kisses always started soft, small pepperings along your shoulder, cheek, and neck. They quickly grew heated as your hands tangled in his hair. "Missed you so much," Steve rasped.

"'M missed you too, I don't like it when you're gone."

"Don't worry," Steve answered as he slid your dress up and off your body. "I won't be goin' anywhere for a while, baby."

"Good," was all you said before helping Steve she'd his clothing.

He groaned as he got between your legs, thumb rubbing your clit gently as he took long, slow licks of your center. "Bucky fucked you, didn't he?" Steve asked.

"Right before you got home," Bucky answered from the doorway. His shirt was off and his pants were undone, his cock in his hand. He must have been there for a while, but neither you nor Steve had realized.

"Gonna watch me fuck our girl?" Steve asked without looking away from you. The heat in your core only grew with each filthy word out of his mouth.

"You bet," Bucky answered. He gave a swat to Steve's ass as he walked by before settling in the armchair across the room, his cock once again in his hand.

Steve threw his clothes off as both Bucky and you watched. Naked, Steve leaned back between your thighs and licked along your core.

"Fuck!" You cried as you drove your hips up, further into his mouth.

Steve threw an arm down across your hips, holding you down. "Relax, baby."

"I am!" You moaned. "So, so relaxed." Steve chuckled but didn't say anything more, instead focusing his attention on your sex.

Every once in a while, through a haze of pleasure, you'd look across the room at Bucky. He was rubbing himself slowly, every time, never getting faster. It wasn't until Steve sunk his cock into you that Bucky began moving his hand faster up and down his cock.

"Still so fucking tight," Steve gasped. You knew Bucky no doubt had a quip to that, something about stretching you out, but if he said it, you didn't hear. Not over the blood rushing in your ears and the slap of skin on skin.

"Gonna come!" You warned.

"Fuck," Steve moaned. "Me too, baby."

Nearly together, you Steve and Bucky reached your climax. Bucky came all over his chest and stomach. Steve stilled as he filled you with his seed.

"Good god," you whispered to no one in particular. Bucky got up and cleaned himself off in the bathroom, coming back and helping wipe down you and Steve.

"Come to bed Bucky, I wanna sleep with my people."

Bucky chuckled as he climbed into bed with the two of you. "I love you two," he said softly.

"Love you, Buck," you and Steve answered in unison.

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 35

A/N: The center photo is indicative of the reader's gown only. Not her appearance which isn't defined.

Part 35: Dance with the Devil

Series Masterlist

Words: 5.2k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, intimidation, dark seduction. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

"You are almost ready," Yelena said with a smile, just after the stylists left. "Now the jewelry."

You paused, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your gown was an exclusive creation by a top designer, a beautiful sleeveless, a-line creation in layers of tulle, sequins, and matte satin. Shades of pale blue and gold transformed you, enhanced by the ornate way your hair was done, the subtelty of your carefully applied makeup. Beneath you wore the most elegant little gold heels that were surprising comfortable despite their minimal style. The stockings were sheer, hugging your upper thighs just below the skimpy ice-blue panties you wore.

The mention of jewelry brought up an unhappy memory and you knew Yelena recalled it too when your gaze met hers. How your husband's ex-mistress smuggled her necklace in for you to wear on another special occasion had never been solved.Had it been Neal? Hansen? A reminder from the not-too-distant past that your enemies could reach you at any time. A reminder to be vigilant. 

"What jewelry?" you asked carefully.

Yelena smiled. "I picked it up myself," she told you, lifting a delicate strand of diamonds set in gold from a black velvet box on the bed. 

When she draped it around your throat, you smiled at the way it completed your look. There were matching earrings, diamond studs each with a teardrop diamond dangling and catching the light. The set was exquisite. 

"Harry Winston," your friend told you, admiring how they looked on you.

"Nice of them to loan these for the ball," you told her, grateful you got to wear them. 

Yelena reached for the golden mask on the bed, holding it to you. "No loan. Steve bought them."

What?

"These must have cost a fortune," you mused. They probably cost more than everything else you owned combined. "Glad you're going with us. I'd hate to get mugged for these."

Yelena grinned. "Security is going to be tight already with so many important people there. The mayor will be there. One of the state senators."

You scoffed. "Why am I going? I'm no one special."

"But you are," Yelena told you. 'The fact that everyone wants you has been a powerful motivator in this game of chess. Your husband is completely devoted to you. Barnes would love to get his hands on you."

"Barnes would ring my neck the first chance he got," you pointed out.

Yelena's expression was difficult to read. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Hansen would for sure kill me," you said, putting your mask in place carefully. The soft mask of golden sequins fit over your eyes. 

Yelena's gaze dropped at the mention of the name and you were ashamed. You needed to work harder not to bring that up to her. And you needed a subject change. Fast.

"Who's going to be here with Nat tonight?" You weren't surprised Nat didn't want to go. She'd been through so much between the horrific end of her abusive marriage and all trauma of years being left to the sadistic nature of Banner. You wanted to make sure she was well looked after while you and Steve were gone.

"Clint is staying here of course," Yelena said quietly. "Dyson will be here too. He's arranged for extra security for the house tonight."

You nodded your approval. "What about Scott?"

"He's coming with us," Yelena explained. 

You smiled. Scott going had little to do with keeping you and Steve safe and everything to do with spending time with Yelena. You were pretty sure Yelena was aware of Scott's infatuation with her. Would she ever return his affections? You didn't know. Considering her tragic history, you weren't sure she could feel the same way towards him or anyone. But in the time you'd known Scott, you learned he was a good man who always had your back and never once questioned your authority. You trusted him with your life. You trusted him with Yelena too.

But would she ever give him - or anyone - a chance after all she'd been through?

You blew out an exhale, preparing yourself for the night ahead. "I guess we should let Steve know I'm ready."

"He knows," a deep voice caught you and Yelena both off guard. 

Your husband strolled into the bedroom and Yelena stepped back to allow him a clear path to you. He looked breathtakingly handsome in the classic black tuxedo he wore, tailored perfectly to fit his tall, broad-shouldered physique. His tawny hair was perfectly styled, diamond cufflinks winking in the light. His tie was shades of gold and blue to match your gown, a subtle touch but one you appreciated.

Steve moved to stand behind you in the mirror of your vanity, bending to fit his handsome face in the reflection with yours. 

"You look so beautiful," he said with something like reverence in his voice. "I can't wait to show you off."

"I'll be downstairs," Yelena said, making her way out to give you some privacy. "We worked very hard on her, boss. Don't mess her up."

Steve smiled at what he took as a playful warning, his large hands smoothing over your bare shoulders. Slowly, you removed the mask, placing it in your lap with your hands. His watchful gaze didn't miss the slight tremble of their movements.

"Everything is going to be fine," he explained. "I've been to this event before. All the rich, politic elite of Boston come out to dance and drink the night away and wallow in excess. It's probably Tony's favorite night of the year."

You could see it. And you were excited to go to the annual masquerade ball, as Steve's wife and not his trophy, and to enjoy a fabulous night on the town. You felt like Cinderella, going to the ball in the gown that truly looked as if magic had created it.

But you couldn't fight back an impending sense of dread. It had been so quiet in the weeks of your recovery and Steve's. Life went on. You were included in all the family's business meetings. The family business had recovered and was branching out, deals with three of the other four families made things even better. 

Not that you agreed with all of it. You weren't crazy about the loan sharking or protection deals the family made. The casinos and restaurants didn't bother you as much. And at least the family wasn't making any money off drugs or trafficking. Some of the stories about the business and how other families operated you heard now were just horrific. You made up your mind early that no matter what, you'd never allow the family to make money off the misfortunes of women and children. Never.

It had been very quiet where the Barnes family was concerned. Too quiet.

"I'll  be the envy of every man there tonight," he murmured, pressing a kiss into your neck. The soft brush of his beard made you shiver. A sensual smiled curved Steve's lips. "Are you ready?"

You nodded. You trusted your husband. You were going to do your best to have a wonderful night, just like he intended.

And still that little kernel of dread lingered.

You felt like you were in an old Hollywood movie to walk down the staircase on your husband's arm with the gown flowing softly with your movements. Honestly, you were grateful for Steve's help in keeping you balanced, relieved when you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

Dyson, Yelena, Scott, Clint and Nat were a small crowd, watching in admiration as you approached. Nat's smile was all you needed to feel like a princess. Her lovely green eyes lit up as her gaze swept over you. 

"You look perfect," she exclaimed, carefully hugging you. "I knew that gown was the one."

Nat had been the one to find it when the two of you went out shopping for it. And you were all too happy to give her the credit. You knew very little about fashion. You would learn. Until you did, it was nice to have the advice of someone who already understood it.

As Nat stepped back, you forced yourself to smile. She still looked so small, so frail. She had yet to gain weight and regain her amazing figure. Your sister-in-law seemed fragile, even with the protection and love of the man she'd always wanted. Even with the full support and love of her brother. It worried you.

Dyson looked worried too, but as you did, he put on a quick smile. "You two had best get going. The line at dropoff takes forever."

"True enough," Steve said, nodding to Yelena and Scott.

You stopped to hug Dyson. "Keep her safe for me," you whispered.

"You know I will," he muttered.

Steve whisked you away to the sleek black limousine waiting in the driveway. Its glossy, jet-black exterior reflected the fading sunlight with a mirror-like finish. The long, streamlined body stretched gracefully, its tinted windows offering privacy and adding to its air of mystery. Scott climbed in behind the wheel and Yelena rode shotgun as Steve got you into the back seat, helping you keep your gown away from the doors. Once you were settled, you studied your husband. Something was missing.

"Did you bring a mask?" you asked him. 

Steve smiled, pulling a small black mass from inside his tuxedo coat. No sequins, just a matte black mask he could wear. But he wasn't interested in the mask as he fidgeted with it. He was too busy staring at you.

"Are you excited?" he asked.

You couldn't help the smile the question brought on. "Yes."

Steve looked pleased. "As time goes on and things settle down, we'll get out more. Do more things like this. You look like a princess tonight."

Tears pricked at the backs of your eyes at his heartfelt words. He meant them. He was taking you out to a society function, dressed you up like you were going to the fucking Oscars. A night out like nothing you'd ever experienced before. You'd been excited since he told you he got the tickets a few weeks ago.

"There are going to be a lot of people there, sweetheart," Steve explained quietly. "I'm sure Belova went over everything with you. But I need you to listen. You are going to be with me at all times. If you're not with me, you'll be with Belova and Lang. No wandering off to talk to people or sightsee. Okay?"

You nodded. Yelena had covered the plans thoroughly while she helped you get ready for the evening. 

"If I have to talk business for a moment, Belova will be with you. You have to go to the ladies' room, Belova will be with you," he continued. "Take it easy on the drinks. You're not used to alcohol and I need you vigilant tonight. We're going to have a wonderful time but..."

"I understand," you told him. "Besides, I don't want to miss any part of tonight because I'm drinking. It's my first masquerade ball. I'd like to enjoy every minute of it."

The smile Steve flashed you had your heart fluttering in your chest.

"There will be dancing, right?" you asked.

"Of course," he told you. 

"You'll dance with me?" Would Steve dance with you to a beautiful ballad or classic song?

Reaching over, he tipped up your chin with his fingers, his touch careful. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you when you smile at me like that. I love you."

"I love you, too." 

His lips were a teasing brush against your own but in seconds it deepened, filled with longing and need. 

The sharp wrap on the dark glass that separated the two of you in the back seat of the limo from Scott and Yelena up front scared you. Then the glass slid down just a couple of inches. 

"Later," Yelena admonished. "I worked too hard on her for this party, boss."

You froze thinking that was going to piss your husband off but he laughed. "Okay, sorry," he called back to her.

It made you happy. Ever since everything happened that day between your family and Barnes', your husband and your best friend got along a lot better. Steve was kinder to her, treated her with the same respect as he would any of the men in his employ. That being the case, Yelena felt comfortable enough to tease him about things like tonight. She worked hard on carefully picking her moments with him to tease. She did even better at being thoughtful when offering criticism or advice. The fact that they were getting along better just made your life easier.

"That's supposed to be privacy glass," he said, still grinning.

"Or she's just that good at her job." Honestly, she was.

"After the ball," Steve said once the privacy glass has slid back up, "I want you out of that dress. Especially if you want to keep it."

The sly warning had you grinning. "I would like to keep it. It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen."

"Noted," your husband said. "I'll do my best to contain myself until you get the gown to safety."

The heated looks he cut you the entire way into Boston made you wonder if he'd be able to. You couldn't wait to find out.

Once you reached the venue, you saw there was indeed an endless line of limos in the que leading up to the door. It moved surprisingly fast. Within ten minutes, Scott pulled up to the door and Yelena darted out to open the door for you. Before you could reach for her hand, Steve was there, helping you out of the back of the car with ease and ushering you up the carpeted stairs with Yelena behind you. The decorations and festive lighting dazzled you as you moved along on Steve's arm. The way the soft light reflected off the gown you wore made you feel like you were in a fairytale. 

Steve stopped and greeted more than a few gentlemen on the way into the venue. One man you recognized as a senator and the easy way the two men spoke had you curious. Did the senator know who Steve was? Were they old friends? For a moment, the two of them seemed to forget all going on around them. Just as quickly, the senator's gaze fell on you and the handsome older man smiled. 

"Is this your new bride?" the senator asked.

"She is," Steve replied, introducing you with obvious pride. You meant to shake the man's hand. He kissed the back of yours in an old fashioned gesture. You found him completely charming. 

"Have you been to the masquerade before?" the senator asked.

You shook your head. "This is my first one."

The man smiled. "I hope you enjoy tonight. If I get the chance, I'll introduce you to my wife. It's one of her favorite nights of the year."

"I'd like that," you told him. "It was nice to meet you."

Was it your imagination that Steve watched you with such wonder? Once his conversation with the senator ended, he led you further into the venue where the main ballroom was all prepared, looking like a view from a movie set. 

Clusters of elegant tables arranged in a wide horseshoe shape framed the dance floor, each adorned with lavish centerpieces sparkling beneath the soft glow of the majestic chandelier overhead. The chandelier's light cascaded down like a shimmering waterfall, casting a warm, golden hue over the room, making every surface gleam. A full bar stood ready, offering the finest drinks, while an orchestra played a symphony of enchanting melodies, weaving through the air like a spell. The room was a sea of Boston's political powerhouses, movie stars, and the wealthy elite, all dressed in exquisite gowns and tailored suits, their masks concealing only their identities—not their status. As you paused to take it all in, your husband's familiar warmth pressed against your back, grounding you in the moment as the dazzling scene unfolded before your eyes.

"What do you think?" Steve's whisper at your ear made you shiver.

"I love this," you told him with enthusiasm. "Thank you for bringing me tonight."

"You don't have to thank me." Your husband took your hand, looking like a tawny-haired prince in his tuxedo and black mask, and led you to the dance floor. Your surprise must have shown on your face because he laughed as he swept you into his arms at the edge of the dancing crowd and led you in an easy waltz.

Steve was a wonderful dancer much to your surprise. He led you with an easy grace that you delighted in and found easy to keep up with given your own love of dance. You knew you had to be staring at him but he kept you close, enjoying your surprise.

"When did you learn to dance like this?" you had to ask after he twirled you around gracefully. 

"It's not so hard," he said, his attention solely on you. "Not nearly as hard as your type of dancing."

Ballet was discipline but dancing a perfect waltz wasn't easy either. You were impressed. 

"Is this why you got us all dressed up?" you teased. "So you could show off your dancing skills?"

Steve chuckled. "Is there something wrong with wanting to have a magical night with your wife?"

You were delighted. But you knew it wasn't the only reason Steve brought you here. And now that you were involved in the family business, you weren't offended by the other reason the two of you were there.

Not long before he married you, Steve had acquired a prized property on the outskirts of Boston. He'd been so involved with marrying you and taking over the families he'd neglected it for a time. Now his attention was back on it, plans were being made to develop it. Together, you'd decided on an exclusive resort with fine dining, glitzy nightclubs, and a casino for the wealthy. It was a massive investment and to make it work, certain permits would need to be acquired. The senator and a few key businessmen there tonight could make or break the project that would expand your family's wealth. 

It was a very important night for Steve.

He'd be spending some time talking to these gentlemen tonight which is why Yelena and Scott were there, to keep you safe. You really didn't mind. You felt like Cinderella at the ball in the beautiful gown that flowed and captured the light with your movements as you danced with your husband among the wealthy citizens of the city. As the two of you moved through the dance, you caught a glimpse of Yelena, dressed in her dark suit and standing next to Scott, blending into the background. Your best friend's gaze never left you. Scott's never left her. You smiled, enjoying the beauty of the moment, dancing with your husband at your very first masquerade ball.

When the dance came to an end, it took you a moment to realize it. One of the musicians announced the band would take a short break and be back in just a few minutes. Steve's hand at your lower back urged you to turn. The senator making his way towards you with a lovely older lady at his side. 

The senator's wife was polished from head to toe. Her gown was bright pink layers of satin that matched her lipstick. Otherwise her white hair and face gave her a cold countenance, like she was an ice queen dressed for her best guess at spring. Her eyes were dark, small and mean as her gaze swept over you. The senator assured you that you and his wife would have plenty to talk about. As the woman stood there studying you with pursed lips, you decided talking to her probably wasn't the best idea.

Steve's gaze met yours and he nodded as he let the senator lead him away, leaving you with the judgy woman before you.

"This must be a special night for you," she said tartly.

Straightening your spine, you smiled. "Why is that?"

The woman's white brows rose slightly but a smile played about her lips. "You don't belong here."

"Excuse me?" You kept your smile in place.

"My father was a direct descendent from The Mayflower," she informed you. "We're practically royalty here. We built our fortune through hard work and our good name. You, on the other hand, come from poverty and crime. You father crawled out the shadows and robbed good people blind. That's why you have the money to play dress up and act like you belong here. We all know your husband fancies himself some sort of underworld prince. But he doesn't belong here either."

Oh, no, she didn't just put you and your husband down. Lifting your chin, you looked her in the eye.

"Your ancestors came over on a ship over four hundred years ago and nobody cares anymore," you told her. "You can pretend to be royalty, and tell yourself you made your money working hard and protecting your good name. But the sad truth is, your family made your money the same way mine did. In fact, your family probably paid mine to keep from getting your hands dirty or to protect your interests. And my husband is the king of Boston's underworld and so was my father before him. You may be someone in society right now, but your husband is currently anelected official. If you were smart, you'd spending a little more time being respectful."

Gracefully as you could manage, you turned your back to the rude woman and marched off. Yeah, maybe you hurt your husband's chances of getting the permits you needed for the project development once she talked to her husband. But you weren't about to put up with someone like that. 

You looked all around for Yelena. You were dying to tell her about the conversation you'd just had. But you weren't watching where you were going and you collided with someone hard.

And whoever he was, he caught you in his arms, sweeping you out onto the dance floor as another waltz began. He was as tall as your husband and the scent of his expensive cologne was familiar. You realized who held you a beat before he spoke, a low purr by your ear.

"Did you miss me, beautiful?"

Barnes.

Easing back, you glanced up at your uninvited dancing partner, wearing an aura of allure and danger with ease. Barnes' chiseled jawline was partially obscured by the intricately designed black mask he wore, adorned with silver accents catching the light. Those steely-blue eyes were shadowed but still piercing, glinting with a cold intensity as his gaze met yours.

His tuxedo was entirely black and tailored to perfection, hugging his muscular frame effortlessly. His attire seemed to absorb the light, creating a sense that he came from the shadows. Even his shirt was dark onyx, subtle embroidery only revealing itself when he moved. And he felt strong as he held you, solid and healed.

Stop staring at the man and answer.

"I haven't thought about you at all," you told him, trying to sound nonchalant but not quite hitting that note.

As much as you hated to admit it, Barnes was undeniably handsome. From the way his hair was slicked back with precision to the confident smirk curling his lips, the man was... magnetic. But there was a sinister edge beneath the polished surface. There always had been. Barnes' posture was too poised, his movements too calculated. Every inch of him whispered danger, a wolf in the presence of unsuspecting lambs.

Pulling you close to him, Barnes chuckled. "I don't believe that. I think you I live rent free in that beautiful head of yours."

"Maybe," you said, feeling his smile widen. "I do think about how I wished we'd used more poison."

Now he laughed, a deep rich sound. "I don't doubt that."

"What do you want?" You looked anywhere but at him. Still, you were so focused on the predator that held you, you weren't really seeing your surroundings. The music, the lights, everything else seemed to fade into the background.

"What do you think I want?" Barnes asked.

As Barnes swept you around the floor, your mind scrambled for a comeback. "Your hands around my throat," you said, going with honesty. "And me dead?"

Leaning in, he ran his nose gently up the column of your neck, making you shiver. "Oh, I did. I really did. And I could have made that happen."

You were dangerously close to having him think he had the upper hand here. "No, you couldn't."

Again, he chuckled. "You've got it all figured out, don't you?" Releasing you only long enough to spin you in the dance, he pulled you back into him tightly. "You made peace with your husband. You're now involved in the family business. I would call Steve a pussy for even thinking about that if it were any other woman. But you're not just any woman. But you're special."

You missed a step in your alarm. How the hell did Barnes know you were in the all the family business meetings now? And that you and Steve had made peace? The questions triggered your anxiety, reminding you of the days early in your marriage when Neal had been Barnes' rat and you were always looking over your shoulder. Was someone else talking to Barnes?

"A long time ago, your mother seduced my father," Barnes whispered. "She tore my family apart. And when you came along and you weren't the poor disfigured little girl we were told you were, I assumed you were a little whore like your mother. You look almost exactly like her. Has anyone told you that?"

You didn't answer, trying hard to put a little space between the two of you. Where was Steve? It wouldn't be too conspicuous if he broke in on the dance. If Yelena or Scott came to save you, it could create a scene and unwanted attention. 

"I even thought maybe, horrible thought I know," Barnes went on, "that you might be my half-sister. But it didn't take me long to realize that wasn't true either. Besides, that devious little mind in there, hidden behind all that beauty? You didn't get that from your mother. Or my father."

"What's it to you?" you snapped at him, trying to pull off pissed even though you held anger and fear in equal measure. "I'm Steve's wife. He's your boss. You'd do well to remember that."

Barnes was unfazed. "You're Steve's wife. For now. But he can't handle you." Barnes leaned closer, his gaze locking with yours. "You should belong to someone stronger."

Now you really were getting pissed. "I don't need you or any man, including my husband, to tell me who I am and what I should be doing," you said.

"You may be right," he purred. "But it's that attitude, that fire. It got me thinking... I had the wrong idea about you from the beginning. Yeah, all the bitterness from the past clouded my judgment for a while. I wanted you dead and buried next to your loser husband." When you tried to pull free of him, he tightened his grip. His grin widened. "Now I realize you're exactly what I need."

"For what?" You didn't know how much of your glare he got from behind your mask.

"To finally take my rightful place," he said as if it were gospel. "The position occupied by your current husband."

Current husband? Who the fuck did he think he was?

"Our children will be kings and queens," Barnes went on. "That dynasty would rule Boston for decades."

"My children with Steve will rule Boston," you told him angrily. "And when we're done with you, no one will even remember the Barnes family."

"One day," he said with meaning, leaning closer, "you'll be mine."

Despite yourself, you shivered. Barnes caught it.

"You want me too," he whispered. "I'll make you admit it."

As the song neared its end, you were prepared to do whatever you had to do to get away from the bastard, the man who'd done so much damage to your family. As the last strains of the symphony ended, Barnes released you to bow. You did curtsy to him, then you straightened.

"I will never be yours." You meant it with every fibre of your being. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find my husband."

Barnes' grin didn't fade. "Better find a way to keep him safe."

You spun on your heel, marching off the dance floor. You needed air, and a moment to calm down. You were blinking back tears, you were that angry. You felt someone on your heels as you made you way out of the main event room out ornate glass doors left open. It was chilly out there but you welcomed it, fighting back anger.

"Are you okay?" Yelena asked, her hand at your back as you gripped the railing and hung on. 

"No, I'm not... o-fucking-kay," you said, trying to regain your composure. "He came out of nowhere."

"He did," Yelena said. "He got to you so quickly after you talked to the senator's wife."

"Where's Steve?" you asked.

"Talking very intently to the senator," she replied. "It appears to be going well."

You had to wonder if that would still be true once the senator's wife caught a moment to tell her husband and your little "talk."

But you had bigger problems right now. Barnes.

"Barnes is all healed up," you told her. Looking beyond her, you saw Scott by the entranceway back into the ball. "And he's got big plans."

"He wants you," Yelena said it. "That much was obvious. It gives me some idea of his plans."

You nodded. "Don't say anything to Steve or Scott right now. I just want to find a glass of champagne to take the edge off and get through the rest of the ball."

With any luck, you could maybe enjoy one more magical dance with Steve before the evening ended.

You couldn't, however, complain. You wanted to be in on the family business and this was part of it. Barnes, unfortunately, was also part of it.  And he'd just announced his intentions to you and you realized now it was the pit that had been in your stomach the entire evening. 

Barnes would keep tearing your life apart until he was stopped. Somehow between his drastic plans and the animosity between you and your husband, you'd found your way to a happy marriage. A path to be queen in this world. And you'd be damned if you let Barnes threaten that future.

"You're going to tell Steve, right?" 

"I am." You didn't miss the concern in Yelena's voice. "I'm telling all of you. But not here."

Nodding her agreement, Yelena watched as you straightened, steeled yourself to return to the event. 

"Let's find you a glass of champagne, boss," she said with a wink.

Boss? Now that put the smile back on your face. 

@valsworldofcreativity @21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @sadlittlecountess @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebstan @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @maxwelllee2020 @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-00 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellev @vitamingummies @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @eralen @kawairinrin @bluemusickid @geminievans1 @daughterofthenight117 @sunmoonandbuckyrecs @jesevans @kandis-mom @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @kmc1989 @curiousandjoyous @marvelouslyme96 @patzammit

[pretty-bratty]

Every Mafia AU

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

He wasn’t the main point but I can’t stop thinking about Steve in ‘three times’, like what a man. Just hard, quick, decisive with just enough tenderness somewhere in all that loyalty. Is he lonely at all? Like, who does he have to love on? I’d gladly volunteer. Beautiful story and writing!

a/n: oh oh oh! SAAAAMMMEE! i tell you, when i was writing that fic, i kept on catching myself drooling over steve (lol as you can tell by the big part he played in the story) and had to snap myself out of it all the time because it wasn't a steve fic. but yes yes yeesss, i did think about who he has to love on hehe, let me share the thoughts ৎ୭

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

i think his girl would be just the sweetest little cinnamon roll ever

maybe you started working at the cafe near his home, just part-time while you’re finishing a degree

he was already a regular there, so when you started working there, not long passed before, a) you developed a huge crush on him, and b) since he came in there all the time, his usual order became almost imprinted on your brain since it was one of the few sentences you heard him utter that your heart clung onto

so the first time that you finished his sentence with the correct kind of coffee, that was the moment that snapped him out of his usual mundane haze and forced him to truly notice you for the first time.

and before he knew it, he had fallen into a legitimate relationship with you, more serious than any other he'd let himself experience.

it's very too sweet by hozier coded... because you truly are too sweet, too pure, too good for him... but that's also why he can't get himself to stop...

he keeps on telling himself that he needs to cut off ties to you, that you deserve better and that this can only end one way, with you getting hurt. but every time he tries, he just has to look into your eyes and the words crumble from his lips like they never existed at all.

and also, the last thing he wants for you to know is the kind of man he really is and the blood he has on his hands.

but when he’s with you, he isn't a dangerous mobster. he can just pretend that he's something else, just a regular guy like the one you believe he is. when he's with you, he can step into the world where everything is good, where wishes come true and it's borderline a fairytale compared to his reality.

he could never tell you the truth about who he is because at best it would just scare you, but at worst, it could potentially get you into trouble that you of all people don't deserve.

so he keeps it a secret.

even if the excuses he fumbles to come up with aren't always that great, you still haven't found out.

he'd rather you think that he is a klutz who gets into minor accidents and hurts himself all the time than have you know about how he really gets banged up too often to count.

he'd also rather have you think that he's an asshole for showing up late or not at all, than you knowing what grim truths had kept him.

maybe one day he does tell you everything and he spends the rest of his days protecting you and keeping you a secret from everyone in his world...

or maybe he doesn't. maybe he finds a way to do the impossible and get out of the life, but only for his past to catch up to him years down the line and blow up the perfect little white picket life you'd built together...

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble  

[scribbbbbles]

How Brooklyn Was Brought To Her Knees - Series Masterlist

Summary: New York was a dangerous city, anyone there can tell you that. The lights on Times Square hid the bleeding bodies in alleys, the teenagers with backpacks full of some kind of weapon or substance, and the other dirty scum crawling behind closed doors. Brooklyn and Manhattan hadn't been friends in years, a feud so old no one could delegate it's origin. George Barnes and Anthony Stark went from business partners to mortal enemies, and the city's held her breath for 25 years because of it. Tensions only worsened when in the span of 12 years, both of their eldest children went missing. HYDRA is stalking down the streets, with a goal they have no qualms killing for. So when Bucky Barnes is dealt the deal of a lifetime, and it all goes south, how bloody is the cost of vengeance? And is it worth losing the girl he thought he never really had? Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader Serious Warnings: this work is 18+ minors dni!!!! this is a mafia!au fic. it will contain depictions of violence, sex, drug use, alcoholism, unhealthy families, gore, and death. this is your formal warning to back out if any of that is a no for you. Silly Warnings: hurt/comfort, tony stark is a loving father, irondad and spiderkid!!, please dear god someone give bucky a hug, overprotective and whipped bucky (yes it's a warning), trope central!! including but not limited to he fell first she fell harder, only one bed, arranged marriage, "where is she", and more!!!!

Notes: hi! this is my first fic on here that I can remember. I started writing on ao3 but I remembered how often I come to tumblr for fics and thought I should post here too. this is an ongoing series I hope to update every tuesday, and as of february 11th I have four-ish chapters written and in the beta read process!!! I do not know how many parts this beast will total as of rn. and if reading on here isn't your thing it's up on ao3 and wattpad under the same name same fic same description the whole works. I have some other abandoned babies over on ao3 too lol. I hope you guys like it. I do accept feedback and suggestions but be kind please - that's all I ask :)

a taglist has been requested!! so if you want to join it comment on this post -- you'll get added!!

chapter one: the escape

chapter two: the rescue

chapter three: the deal

chapter four: the letter

chapter five: the meeting

chapter six: the gun

chapter seven: the needle - 03/25

chapter eight: the run - 03/31

chapter ???: ???

[thatdarkfanficstuff]

Coming September 2024

Steve Rogers is the king of the city. When he proposes an engagement between Stark's daughter and his stepson, Tony reluctantly accepts. When you offer yourself up in your little sister's place, Steve suddenly isn't so sure you marrying Roman is a good idea. After all, your heart does flutter so prettily whenever you and the king are alone together.

18+ only due to mature content.

Story will be a reader insert without the use of y/n.

Add yourself to the taglist here or comment below.

[myfictionaldreams]

Edge of Glory // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Defiance is something you are not accustomed to, but when the love of your life is in danger, there is no stopping you. Now, the repercussions of your actions have you contemplating the decisions that you've made.

Requested by: My bestie, thank you for giving me the spark and motivation to continue writing!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, fluff, threesome (F/M/M), BDSM, punishment, sensory deprivation, crying, overstimulation, begging, edging (!), subspace, restraints, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, praise kink, degradation, aftercare

Words: 6.5k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Masochist: someone who enjoys pain. That word echoed in the forefront of your mind as your muscles strained and ached from the exertion. Deep breath in and out, shoulder joints rolling to ease the stiffness in your neck as your arms are raised in defence once more.

It’s not that you were averse to pain; in the right circumstance, pain could be mixed with pleasure or have a reward such as a tattoo or piercing. However, the pain that came with working out, forcing your muscles to move to their limits, and lungs burning with the movements were things you were not used to or could say you were enjoying at the present moment. Hence why, the woman in front of you, with stunning red hair and a bright, taunting grin, was being labelled a masochist because there was no way you could fathom that she was enjoying any moment of this, but the sharp laugh she released had you shaking your head in concern.

“Again,” she ordered breathily, her arms remaining at her side as she carefully stepped around the thin mat positioned in the centre of the office. The chairs and table are pushed against the wall, giving you more space.

Taking an exaggerated deep breath, ignoring that fire that coated the inside of your lungs, you lunged towards Natasha, looking as if you were going to grab her by the shoulders, but in the last second, you dropped to your knees. With surety and remembering the instructions of your mentor, who watched from the sidelines, you tackled your friend to the floor.

With the rush of air that escaped her lungs, you knew you’d taken her by surprise and couldn’t help the shit-eating grin across your face as you stared triumphantly down at Natasha.

Within a single blink, an unnatural grunt was forced from your no longer smiling lips as Nat was quick to swap the positions, causing your body to roll and her now hovering over you with both of your arms pinned on either side of your head.

“What now, Sugar? Try and get out of this one”, she taunted as her flaming hair framed her beautiful face. With a surge of adrenaline, you were able to swing your hips up, pushing her body away enough to kick your knee up. Natasha, the ever-professional bodyguard and part-time assassin, knew your next move and could twist both of your legs together until you were thoroughly held down with no hopes of escape. “Come on, you know how to get out of this hold, just think”, Natasha continued to tease, holding onto your limbs tightly.

The panic of being held down with the pain pulsing through your muscles, you couldn’t think straight, couldn’t even think of another way out, let alone the right way. Turning your head to the side to look towards your mentor, you were suddenly turned as Natasha forced your body onto its side as she tuts, “No cheating, don’t look for Wilson for the answers, use your head!”

“I can’t; I give up,” you grumbled as your face smushed into the cool mat, finding some relief in the lower temperature. Relief instantly eased into your limbs as Natasha released her hold on you, and you flopped face-first on the floor. “Thank you.”

“You did well today. You finally got me onto my back, which most can’t say. Good job!” Natasha praised you as she moved to grab a drink. You’d intended to raise a thumbs-up in her general direction, but all you could manage was flop an open palm onto the mat and continue to lay there.

The next voice that praised was Sam, your mentor and personal bodyguard, as he reprimanded Nat, “You didn’t have to play dirty; the hold was for next month's teaching, Romanoff”.

“Whoever said I played fair”, she teased, her voice sultry and low as she gently pushed against Sam’s shoulder. 

Not that you were particularly listening as you breathed deeply in the middle of the floor, becoming so relaxed that you contemplated having a nap. Except someone had other ideas as large, firm hands scooped beneath your body, causing you to groan dramatically as you’re lifted until sitting sideways in his lap, your face resting carefully against his shoulder as warm arms wrapped around you.

Steve held you closely, gently kissing the top of your head as you breathed him in, finding comfort in his cologne and warmth. For a moment, you admired the parts you were touching, from the firmness of her muscular body to the coarse, dark blond facial hair that rested against your temple. Lifting your heavy head, your lips pressed against the thick column of his neck, you asked, “Did I do good today, or is she just saying that because she has to?”

The brief grunt of a laugh that Steve released had your insides warming, especially as the vast chest you were resting on vibrated, nothing to you was more attractive than being the reason for your partner laughing. Once again, Steve kissed the top of your head gently before answering, “You did do good today, baby. Even though I don’t see the point in you having to learn all of these moves. There’s a reason why I hire all of my friends and colleagues to be your bodyguards you know”. 

You sigh into his neck, reaching up to play with the curling blonde wisps of hair at the nape of his neck, “I know but it still can’t hurt to know some self-defence, especially when, oh I don’t know, two of the most wanted and dangerous men in all of Brooklyn are my boyfriends”.

Steve hums against your forehead but you can feel him smiling. It’s not that you wanted to become as highly trained as either of your boyfriends or your bodyguards but with the way the company and job roles that everyone was playing, it was probably for the best that you had some skillset for defending yourself.

“Anyway,” you continue, leaning back slightly in his hold so you can look up into his bright sky-blue eyes. Maybe I’ll be good enough to get you or Bucky onto your backs one day. “The brightness in Steve’s eyes seemed to darken as his eyelids lowered. His gaze sharpened down to your lips, and you knew the hunger in his eyes wasn’t for food.

“Baby girl, if you wanted me on my back, all you had to do was ask”, as he spoke, he dragged you down as he led, your body now covering over his chest, legs shifting until you’re straddling over his waist. Pushing up against his firm chest, you grinned down at him, already feeling the warmth radiating from between your legs as you clenched in arousal.

“Hey! No fornicating on the gym mat!” Natasha shouts, interrupting the heated exchange for a second.

Not that this at all differed, Steve as his hands skimmed over your legging-covered thighs, massaging the muscles as he then settled over your hips, pushing your lower body down so that you could feel all of him, hard and pulsing between your legs.

As a moan of need slipped past your lips, a multitude of events happened. Every phone in the room, except yours, pinged with a single notification and all warmth, happiness and lust ceased to exist as this was never a positive text. Steve reached beneath your thigh to retrieve his phone from his trouser pocket. Reading it briefly before beginning to sit up.

Staring around the room, you could feel the energy was anything but positive from the frown now marring Natasha’s face.

Bucky, the tightness in the centre of your chest became unbearable as your eyes darted back to Stee, who was now carefully trying to stand between you. No words were spoken, but they weren’t needed. Just from Steve’s exterior, you knew it was something regarding Bucky. He was supposed to confirm a deal—no action, just papers and signing.

“Please,” your voice was barely heard over a whisper as you took a shaky step toward Steve, who began clipping his guns back into the leather holster hidden behind his suit jacket. You weren’t entirely sure what you were begging for—some reassurance? To come with them? But Steve hardly even paused to look at you as he rushed past, his hand cupping your cheek before moving towards the door with Natasha in tow.

On instinct, you followed his steps as the thumping of your pulse in your chest tempted you drastically with the spike of adrenaline.

“Hold up, Boss Lady. We’re staying here,” Sam calmly reminded you as he carefully stepped into your line of sight. For a moment, you relaxed under his gentle gaze as you examined him, from his buzzed short hair to his black polo top and jeans.

“There’s no way I’m staying here, I know it’s Bucky. I’m going”, you spoke with all the authority you could muster whilst stepping around him. However now, it was Steve blocking your exit as he stood to his full height, staring down at you with pity in his eyes.

“You’re going to stay here where it’s safe with Sam. I’m not risking you”.

Shaking your head, you try to push past his towering body, but he doesn’t budge a single step. Grunting in frustration, your eyes ablaze, you stare up at him again. “Please, Steve, don’t leave me behind when Bucky’s hurt! I know it’s him; I can feel it.” You press your hand over your heart for emphasis. “Don’t leave me here. I’ll sit in the car. Please let me come with you!”

Steve opens his mouth but a shout from lower down the corridor interrupts him as Natasha informs him that the car is ready. Rough fingers cup your cheeks, tilting your face towards him further as he leans down to kiss the tip of your nose and then your forehead, “I will call as soon as I can, but you need to stay here”.

Steve leaves without any time for argument. It takes a total of ten seconds before you rush back into the office, collect a hoodie, phone, and car keys, and plan to ignore Steve completely and rush after them, following the GPS on his phone.

One small, or rather tall interruption came in the shape of one frowning bodyguard as he held onto the front of your shoulders. “No”. Simple, authoritative, and mostly effective. But not today.

Pushing past him, you made it another step before he grasped your inner elbow and pulled you back. “No, you aren’t following them. If Boss’s orders are to stay here, we are staying here. I’m sorry I know that’s not what you want-”.

“What did the message say?” Sam’s jaw muscles tighten as he closes his mouth, saying nothing and everything simultaneously. “Exactly. Bucky is in trouble, and I’m not staying here waiting for a phone call to say whether he's okay or not. At least if I follow and stay in the car, I can have immediate answers. So it’s up to you. You can stay here or do your job and protect me in the car.” 

You were never firm like this with Sam, who was not only your bodyguard but also your best friend. However, right now, with adrenaline pulsing through your veins, there was no way you were going to act rationally. Sam took a moment to battle himself internally before cursing lowly under his breath.

“Fuck. They are so going to fire me but fine but you listen to everything I say. You must stay near the car; if there’s any sign of danger and we need to leave, you go without question. Understand?”

“Yes, I promise. Now let’s go!”

On the way to wherever Sam was driving you, your nerves seemed uncontrollable. Your legs bounced, and your fingers wrung together in an attempt to calm down. “They won’t fire you, you know, " you said to try to distract yourself as the scenery became one of vast landscapes, greenery, and nothingness.

“Oh yeah? And how do you work that one out then?” 

“Because you’re still protecting me, no matter where we go. I have full trust in you, Sam, and I know they do, too. They’d be as lost without you as I would be.”

His face seemed to ease slightly as he reached across the centre console and gripped your fingers tightly, stopping your movements and reassuring you.

Entering into a derelict area, Sam reminds you again of your promise to stay close to the car as he parks, where you recognise Steve and a couple of other SUVs who have haphazardly parked outside of a warehouse. Stepping out of the vehicle, you remained close as promised, but Sam stood directly before you, his gun raised and prepared to be used.

It was silent. Entirely and utterly silent. There weren’t even birds singing in the trees nearby; only the wind rushing over your face as the hood flapping in the breeze kept you company. You wanted to talk, to replace the silence, but knew that would earn you a one-way ticket to being placed back into the car and removed from the area because what’s one way of announcing yourself to the enemies? Talking, that's for damn sure.

Your knuckles ached as you clenched your fist tightly, waiting and waiting. At one point, you had to lean onto Sam's back, rest your forehead against his back and take a few steady breaths to prevent hyperventilation as the worst thoughts came to mind.

A loud bang, you at first mistaken for a gunshot and therefore had Sam pushing you to the ground, but soon realised that it was the metal door slamming open. Voices then echoed into the open area. You searched over Sam’s shoulder, and men and women dressed in black began to exit the building. 

You recognise them as part of your team, and the muscles in your and Sam’s bodies relax as you shoot to stand up. However, once again, your bodyguard forces you back: “Easy, Boss Lady, give them a second.”

You knew what he was referring to, as neither of your boyfriends had yet to follow the team out of the building. Just as you were about to push past the protection in front of you and storm the warehouse, the loud door slammed again to allow Natasha, Bucky and Steve to exit.

The brunette man was being supported by the blonde and red-haired, limping on a foot that barely scraped along the floor. The relief that rushed through you was overwhelming as you slumped against the side of the car, sucking in easy breaths as all tension and tightness in your chest eased.

“Hang on, let me call her,” came Steve's distant voice. Before you could react, your phone began to ring loudly, filling the quiet within the area. The two of you had previously been concealed by the multiple vehicles, but there was no hiding that you’d gone directly against Steve’s orders now. The ringing instantly stopped, and you were suddenly face to face with your fuming boyfriend.

Before he could react or speak, you were darting around him and racing towards Bucky, who Natasha was holding up. A whoosh of air burst from his lips as he wrapped his metal arm around your shoulders, holding your body close to his as you breathed him in, gripping the back of his crisp, button-up shirt. He mostly looked the same as when he’d left you hours ago: a black suit, buzzed hair, and clean-shaven hair.

“You let her come?” Bucky asked with indifference and concern, directing the question to Steve, now a step away. You would have been sheepish and embarrassed, but the relief that Bucky was alive was overwhelming as you held him tighter.

“Do you really think I would let her come when you send a text like that?” Steve retorts back with frustration, lacing his words.

Bucky’s hold seemed to loosen slightly as he tried to defend himself: “I asked for SOME backup; I didn’t expect all of this to come! Especially not you.” At first, you assume he’s referring to Steve, but as Bucky gently pushes back against your shoulders, you realise he’s talking to you. Now, the full extent of your embarrassment flushes your cheeks with warmth as you refuse to meet his eye.

Staring down, Bucky is now resting some weight on his foot, which had previously appeared injured. “What happened to your foot? Are you okay? Where else are you injured? I need to see!”

As you spoke, your fingers ran over different body parts, ignoring the burning stare from Steve as you did so. Not happy with being ignored, he stepped forward, standing between Bucky and yourself as Steve cupped your cheeks as he did before leaving, forcing you to look and meet his stare.

Even though you could tell he was angry and frustrated, he was only ever soft and gentle with his touches as he demanded, “What are you doing here? I explicitly told you to stay behind and not to follow!”

Licking your dry lips, you emphasised, “I couldn’t stay at the office knowing Bucky was hurt! Sam was with me the entire time; I was completely safe!”

This was an entirely wrong thing to say to him. His glare turned to your bodyguard, who had remained by the car, leaning against it casually and holding his hands up in defence. “I couldn’t say no to her, alright? She was going to follow whether I liked it or not.”

“The command was to keep her at the office, where it’s safer than standing directly outside the conflict, Wilson.” You flinched at using his surname, something Steve tended not to do when it came to his longtime friend. “It should be fairly simple to read behind the lines and keep her there by any means necessary.”

Now it was your turn to have the fiery rage of anger in your glare as you snapped, “Excuse me? Stop talking about me like I’m not here. What would you have had him do? Tie me to a chair? I don’t think so-”

“That’s exactly what I would have expected him to do”, Steve cuts you off as he leans down so the tips of your noses rub together. “You know what? We aren’t discussing this out here, so get in the car. Please”, he added for good measure. Following his instructions, you climbed into the back of the SUV that you’d arrived with, Bucky following closely behind, sliding in beside you, Steve in the front with Sam driving.

The drive was tense and silent as you thoroughly checked Bucky. He had only slipped on blood and twisted his ankle, which was already nearly back to normal thanks to his healing abilities. You could see Steve’s jaw clenching from the front of the car as he shook his head in disappointment. “Why didn’t you listen to me?” he asked, turning in his seat to look at you directly.

Leaning into Bucky’s side, you didn’t back down from your reasoning, “I’ve already told you why.”

“I never give you orders, not in our personal lives or on the job, but this was important, and I needed you to listen to me.”

“What, so you expect me to just sit pretty at home and wait around all day for you both to come home? What’s the point in me training with Natasha if you don’t even give me the chance to help?”

Bucky's hand squeezed your thigh as he reprimanded, “That’s not what he meant, and you know it”.

 “I don’t think you understand how important your safety is to me. You never come to where the danger is, not out by the warehouse where something could have happened to you, too. You made a stupid decision by not listening to me.

 I can’t lose you, Bucky. I want a life where I know you are safe at home and can protect you or trust the people I pay to look after you. Anything I do now is to ensure I can provide for my family and keep them safe, which means keeping you safe. So, next time I ask you to please remain where there is no danger, I expect you to do so. Do I make myself clear?

“So I’m supposed to stay behind knowing you AND Bucky are in danger? Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that,” Steve answers like it's the simplest thing in the world. It wasn’t; it never was, and you struggled more and more with it every time either of them left to do anything related to the mafia.

There were a thousand things you wanted to say, to argue back to him, but through the fogginess of red, you couldn’t see and feel the urgency with which he spoke. He was scared. As scared as you were for Bucky and Steve, he liked to bottle this emotion up more than anyone you knew. As much as he craved the control of being the leader, you knew he was close to breaking.

Reaching forward, you cupped his face, not wanting to argue anymore. You knew he was saying these things and being firm because he was scared. “I will try, Steve. I’m sorry I scared you, and I’m sorry for not doing as you asked.” Thankfully, he nodded, the tension easing tenfold as he kissed the inside of your palm before turning around in his seat.

Returning to your home, you quickly had Bucky undressed and checked for any further injuries, knowing he liked to downplay them. His ankle, now only a slight yellow hue to the skin, could be moved without any flinching or pain voiced by him, but you sat with his ankle in your lap so that you could hold some ice to the area as he sat in his boxers. 

Steve had gone to shower but had yet to speak to you since being in the car. Guilt lay heavy in your stomach. It wasn’t an argument, but there was still a bitter taste in your mouth as you continued to think about him. Following Steve to the location was more an instinct than a logical thought. These two men meant the world to you.

A cool finger curling around the top of your ear had you pulling out of your thoughts, “What’s going through that pretty little head of yours, Doll?”

“I think I upset Steve”, you say, stating the obvious and leaning heavily into the back of the couch.

“You’ve upset us both”, Bucky reminds you, causing your head to snap in his direction, the unease making you feel queasy. “Woah, I didn’t mean it like that, Sweetheart. We aren’t angry with you; we just never want you to be in danger, you know that”. You nod your head in understanding. 

“I’m worried I’ve broken his trust in me. I should have just stayed back like he said”, you admit sadly. Bucky sits up hearing this, his muscles flexing, working as a quick distraction from your happiness as he moves closer, his metal arm working between your back and the couch so you’re being pulled into his side.

“I can understand why you wanted to come along and check on me, but we know what’s best in these situations. We’ve been doing this a long time, Doll. Everything will be fine. I’ll go and speak to him, and I know he still trusts you; he just needed to clear his head a little bit.” 

Bucky stands, testing his weight on the foot that looks practically healed, before leaning down, kissing your temple, and jogging up the stairs. A few minutes pass before he returns with a grin on his handsome face. 

“He’s fine, exactly like I’d told you. Come on, it’s getting late; let’s go to bed.” Taking his warm hand in your own, you followed willingly. Not realising how exhausted you were from the high emotions of the day and the previous workout at lunchtime, you now thoroughly looked forward to falling into your soft bed with both your partners wrapped around you. 

Bucky stepped into your bedroom first, followed closely by you as you automatically moved towards the en-suite to prepare for bed. In your haste, you did not notice the tall, muscular man waiting for you until his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your body back against his hard. Squeaking in shock, you soon melted into the hold, especially as Steve’s other hand cradled the front of your throat.

“I’m sorry-“ you’re forced to stop talking as his hand covers your mouth. It was only then that you realised that he was utterly naked, as evidenced by the hardness stabbing into your lower back as you leaned into his hold.

“No talking now, baby girl. Bucky told me what you said downstairs, and let me start this by saying there’s no one I trust more than you, so I never want you to think negatively about that ever again. Next, as much as I’m over the day, I think some repercussions need to happen, don’t you agree, Bucky?”

Stepping so he was standing in front, you watched as Bucky began to slowly remove his boxers until the thick length of his hardened cock sprang up and pointed in your direction. Thankfully, Steve continued to hold you up as your knees began to feel weak with the need to drop to them and please your boyfriend as he licked his lips, nodding his head. “Yeah, I’d say someone has earned a punishment after not listening to orders today”.

Punishment. That one word has you snapping out of the lustful gaze as you try to pull away from Steve. “Shh, easy, Sweetheart. It’s not going to be a painful punishment. I need you to trust me; you trust me, right?”

The fingers covering your lips move enough for you to agree, “Yes, I trust you both quickly”.

“Good,” Steve proudly responds before forcing your legs to move with him. You’re facing the bed now and see that the quilt and pillows have been removed and restraints attached to each corner. “Arms up,” your boyfriend asks, and you comply.

Carefully, the two men begin to strip your clothes until you’re as nude as they are. A shiver runs up your spine as you’re led down to the centre of the bed. Steve begins to remind you of the rules as Bucky tightens the straps around your wrists and ankles until you’re completely tied down.

“We won’t cover your mouth, so you can tell us to stop at any time or red and amber as usual. You can also shake your head, and we will stop, do you understand?”

“Yes”.

“Yes, what?” he says with his eyebrow raised expectantly.

Swallowing audibly, you wished at that moment that you could reach out to touch him as you all fall into the role perfectly. “Yes, sir”.

“Good. Do you have the blindfold, Bucky?”

A black satin eye mask is carefully placed over your eyes until all you can see is darkness. This is followed quickly by headphones that begin to play classical music.

Sensory punishment was their plan, and you couldn’t help but feel trepidation build in your core. You couldn’t touch either man, only the softness of the bed sheet beneath. You couldn’t hear them talk, moan, or specifically praise, which you always worshipped when with the two of them. Without sight, there was no way you’d know when or where they would touch you.

It was a vulnerability that you’d learned to have complete trust in Steve and Bucky.

There was one more twist as leather began to stroke down the centre of your chest in a gentle caress—gloves. Whoever was touching you had put on leather gloves, which meant there was no determining who was touching you. Usually, Bucky’s metal hand would then indicate who was who.

With a heavy breath, you tried to calm your nerves as you focused on the touch as whoever it was explored your chest. Delicate strokes of the gloved palm ran over your breasts, pressing into the softness of your chest and then pinching your already hardened nipple. 

The anticipation and thrill of the situation meant that your upper thighs were already sticky with your arousal. Moreover, there was no covering this with how your legs were spread, and you knew that Steve and Bucky were probably staring right at it.

The mattress dipped between your spread legs as someone crawled between them. The deep breath you were drawing in stilted as firm hands cupped each of your ankles, exploring the skin as they ever so steadily moved to your inner thighs. Trembling was an understatement with how much the anticipation was pulsing through you. The image of a naked Steve and Bucky flicked in your imagination, feeling utterly vulnerable under both of their eye.

Your clit pulsed with desire, awaiting a touch, flick, lick, anything; you were desperate for any sort of touch to ease the ache that was burning through your cunt.

It wasn’t any of these touches, though, that greeted you. It was a raw, penetrating cock stretching you to your limits as it inched in. Your back arched with the intrusion, arms and legs pulling on the restraints with the movement as you tried to adjust to the intrusion.

The words ‘Bucky’ and ‘Steve’ continuously begged from your lips as inch after inch pushed further inside. It hurt to be stretched, but it was a burn that you needed and craved, the blinding pleasure that came with it almost acting as a drug to cover the pain. Maybe you did like pain after all.

Heaving in a breath as the weight of the mysterious hips fitted perfectly in with yours, spreading your thighs further apart. The sensation of the cock being completely inside felt almost like it was too much, and you were sure you had spoken those words out loud, but the noise was muffled with the music continuing to play in your ears.

A sharp sting across your breast had you almost biting the tip of your tongue as you clenched tighter around the hardness inside your walls. Teeth. Sharp teeth nipping at the soft tissue surrounding your nipple came as a welcome distraction.

The first thrust was driven with power, deep and blinding with pleasure, as whoever it was did not hold back, and it was just what you needed. Fast and hard seemed to be the theme of the night as your body moved with the fucking, your hips attempting to roll with the movements, but heavy hands pushed down on your waist, keeping you thoroughly pinned in the centre of the bed.

You were at their mercy. The punishment aspect seemed to be more a reward than anything negative as you accepted every ounce of pleasure both men were willing to give you. The pulsing of your walls increased with the thrusts until that beautiful sensation built, tightened and ready to explode into a sympathy of bliss.

Except, just as your orgasm was about to peak, all hands and cock disappeared from your body, leaving your body cold and empty. Whining and pulling against the restraint, you could do nothing but feel the squeezing of your cunt in the attempts to chase the orgasm fades to nothing.

It truly dawned on you now. The sensory restraints weren’t the punishment. The lack of an orgasm was. Regret already was writhed with the begging coming from your mouth, but it was ignored as the hands resumed their wondering of your breasts and a cock fucked back into you.

With the overwhelming sensations, you were unsure if it was a different cock or the same. You were so thoroughly turned on that the wetness that was coating your cunt and upper thighs aided with them fucking inside of you.

On and on, the pleasure continued, fucking and pausing until finally, whoever it was that was inside of you had reached its limit and quickly pulled out, and a warm, wetness began to coat your stomach.

Steve or Bucky had just come over you instead of inside as you’d preferred. It felt dirty. Degrading and once more added to the punishment as you continued to try and wiggle your hips to continue chasing your pleasure that never peaked. However, there wasn’t even a moment to contemplate this as you’re being fucked once more, presumably by the other boyfriend.

It was an endless cycle. Edged to the point of orgasm before it all comes to a stop, just to have cum sprayed over your abdomen. Usually, Steve and Bucky’s heightened libido was a blessing, but tonight, as they fucked on and on, cumming again and again, you were quickly losing your mind.

The caressing over your nipples thankfully lessened as you could feel the blindfold over your eyes dampen with tears of overstimulation and frustration. Yes, you could scream yellow or red, you could stop this all, but somewhere at the forefront of your mind, you wanted to take this punishment, and there was no one you trusted more than Steve and Bucky; once you had hit your limit, they always stopped. 

The layers of cum coating your stomach began to dry, causing your skin to feel irritated and tight. All the sensations going over your body became disorientating, leaving you feeling spaced and like you were lying on a cloud, suspended in the air, floating with no chance of returning to earth. Your hands were numb from the restraints, your lungs aching from crying and pleading to please orgasm.

Each breath only heightened that sensation until you were close to hyperventilating. A firm gloved hand rested in the centre of your chest, and the pressure helped to remind your spinning mind to slow your breathing as you sucked in a wet, heavy breath.

The fucking continued. It felt like hours had passed. Your cunt was swollen, drenched and sore. From the edging, fucking and touching of the leather-covered fingers. You were sure if this went on for much longer, you’d pass out, so you attempted to hide your face in your shoulder, but the large headphones stopped the movement.

More cum coated your middle, and as your body tensed with the anticipation of being fucked again, you couldn’t help but sob further when it never came. Instead, the headphones are removed from your ears, and the momentary silence causes you to shake your head with disorientation. 

“Easy, Doll. Slow your breathing for us; you did so fucking good; you did so well for us”, Bucky gently praised as he removed the damp blindfold. However, your eyes remained clamped shut as you stayed in that subspace.

Warm hands massaged your arms and legs, working the muscles until they tingled as the sensation returned to them as you were released from the restraints. “Careful, Baby, move slowly. That’s it, good girl”. Steve’s voice was calming and yet distant as your sobs echoed in your ears.

“Can you open your eyes for us? Let’s see those pretty eyes come on,” Bucky coaxed as his cool metal fingers stroked against your wet cheek. The touch was soothing and grounding, like the praising words and comfort. However, you couldn’t muster the energy to open your eyes, so instead, you nuzzled into his palm and concentrated on slowing your breath enough that the tears finally stopped.

What followed was utter exhaustion, physically and mentally. Thankfully, this is where your boyfriends shine as you’re quickly scooped into Steve’s arms, your head feeling heavy against his muscular shoulder, leaning further into his natural body heat as he carried you into the bathroom.

You were half asleep as he waited for Bucky to fill the bath with warm water, but as he carefully eased the two of you into the tub, did you wake enough to hiss through your teeth as the heat of the water surrounded your aching body. Even as the warmth soothed your cunt, as you naturally clenched, the soreness throbbing caused a pathetic whine to come from you.

Steve’s arms held you more firmly as he settled back in the tub, Bucky joining behind with his chest pressing against your side. After a couple of breaths, the water's warmth helped you relax until you were blissed out, the punishment long forgotten as you nearly fell into a deep sleep in their arms.

Aftercare was always something they did very well. Both men were so attentive and caring that you would have shed a tear with love and affection if you weren't already mentally numb. Bucky carefully washed your hair and then your body with his body wash, pine and citrus scent that gave you further comfort in these moments. Also, you secretly thought that Bucky used it as a possessive touch, loving it when you smelled like him and no one else.

Steve continued to whisper words of affirmation, helping to bring you out of the submissive headspace and back to reality whilst also trying to check in on your well-being. “Shake or nod your head for answers. Are you in any pain?”

Shaking your head no, you could feel the tenseness in Steves's posture relax as he kisses your temple reassuringly. “You took your punishment so well tonight. I’m so proud of you”. This particular praise had you smiling and leaning further into their touches. “I think that’s the longest you’ve been edged for as well. Do you want to cum? You aren’t being punished anymore, and I think you’ve more than earned a reward”.

You could hear the smile in his tone as you contemplated his offer. You were sore and aching, that was for sure, and you’d been begging for so long to have an orgasm all night, so with some uncertainty, you nodded against his chest.

With gentle touches, Steve turns your body so you’re now facing Bucky, your back pressed against the blonde’s sturdy chest. Carefully, Steve eases your thighs apart, and just as you anticipate the pain that is sure to come with being fucked by fingers or a cock, you’re crying out in pleasure as Bucky lowers his face and dives right in. 

Your eyes open in shock as your body jolts with the sensation of his warm, soft tongue circling your clit as you look down at Bucky, the lower part of his face beneath the water. You were so sensitive and so desperate to orgasm that he didn’t even need to come up for air before you were tightening and throbbing with bliss.

You’re left feeling sated, and your body turns to mush as you collapse back against Steve. You’re only half aware when lifted out of the water and carefully dried. An oversized, soft t-shirt is pulled over your head before you return to the bed.

With your face pressed to Bucky’s chest as Steve spooned you from behind, legs completely tangled with your own, your last thoughts lingered on the day's events. It seemed so did both of your boyfriends as they held you tighter, and an echoing of “I love you” was shared before darkness finally consumed you all. 

[bigtreefest]

You Catch More Bees With Honey Masterlist

A Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader Series

Part of the Outta Nowhere AU

Main Masterlist

Series Summary: Bucky doesn’t always have to personally negotiate his business dealings, but what happens when one of them insists they’ll only deal with him? He heads out to the country to get it sorted, of course.

1. Digging For Gold

2. Ouch, That Stings

3. Honey Trap

4. Under Pressure

5. From the Ground Up

6. San Antonio Stroll

7. Have a Cow

8. Golden Hour

8b. Last Night

9. Looking Over Fences

10. When a Friend Asks for Help

11. Barn Burner

12. Tippin’ Tractors, Takin’ Names

13. You Look Like…

14. Midnight Mess Around

15. Feel Like This

16. More Than Me

Drabbles & Extras

Hop to It (Easter at the farm)

Shared Things (ask answer)

Honeybee vs Decks Character Distinctions

How the Outta Nowhere AU Chapters line up

[winterspiderpurrs]

Okay but either nurse Peter or volunteer Peter at the hospital. He sees someone bringing flowers to one of the private rooms.

Him stopping the person and says" not allowed." The guy threatened him he got permission to bring flowers. He is adamant he needs to get his friend these flowers and plants.

They cause a big commotion. These guys in suits come out of the room to see what's going on.

And basicly said let the guy through they know him.

" Sure okay. But when the patient dies it's on you then"

" What?"

" Those flowers? They are toxic poison basicly. Gonna cause respiratory failure the whole plant is poisonious. "

The guy holding the flowers tries to say he didn't know, just thought they were nice.

Before the guys in suits can say anything Peter pipes up.

" Yeah? Then why are you wearing gloves when it's 90 degrees outside?"

Peter never found out what happened after the flowers got thrown away. Or who was supposed to receive them.

Until he comes home late one night to find a man on his couch.

[holylulusworld]

Their girl

Summary: Your boss doesn’t even know your name. This doesn’t keep his guests from finding interest in you.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Shy!Reader x Mobster!Steve Rogers

Warnings: shy reader, tension, awkwardness, fluff, polyamory, love-struck mobsters

A/N: The sequel no one expected to get.

Catch up here: The nameless girl

True to their words, Steve and Bucky stood in front of your apartment the next evening.

They prepared everything for your date while you spent the better part of the day looking for a new job.

This couldn’t be real. And you believed they wanted to make fun of you by inviting you for dinner like one of the beautiful girls from the club. 

“Hello doll,” Bucky lazily leaned in your door frame. He offered a bouquet of daisies to you and called you a pretty mouse.

“Sweet mouse,” Steve grinned and offered a single red rose to you, “you look…stunning.” They both looked dashing in their expensive suits, and polished shoes. 

“I-sorry. I’m not ready yet and…” you nervously babbled. Still, in your oversized Peanuts shirt and sweatpants, you looked ridiculous next to them. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

“Why?” Bucky furrowed his brows. He looked a little hurt at your words. “Why’d you think we would not keep our word and come here to court you.”

“I,” you dropped your gaze, afraid you angered the two of them. “Men like you don’t usually pay attention to someone like me. I’m shy, meek, and a grey mouse in contrast to the dancers at the club.”

“Doll,” Bucky pushed the flowers in Steve’s hands so he could cup your face with both hands. “If we say we want to take you out,” he leaned closer to look you deep in the eyes. “We mean what we say. We want to take you out. Not one of the girls at the club nor anyone else.”

You sniffled and murmured an apology. It was strange to you that two men tried to get your attention. Life taught you that most men only like a pretty façade.

Many guys you met didn’t care if a girl was selfish, dumb, or had the worst character as long as they were pretty enough to get their attention. 

“Y/N don’t apologize. I know we can be a bit overwhelming and intense,” Steve smirked when your eyes darted toward him. “Buck, tell her how much we like her.”

“Very much,” Bucky purred your name. He swiped his thumb over your lower lip only to groan deeply when you licked over his thumb and lightly sucked on it. “Fuck, Stevie. We got a dirty little mouse here.”

“Oh?” Steve watched you look at his friend like you were in a trance. “She’s such a cute surprise. Who would've thought we’d find our queen among all those boring girls.”

Bucky pecked your temple, making you sigh at the slightest touch of his lips. “We got lucky,” he said. “She’s one in a million.”

Steve chuckled at his friend’s eagerness. “How about we invite you for dinner at our home, Y/N. You can wear your cute shirt and sweatpants. We can have a sleepover and have dinner at the restaurant tomorrow.”

“We also got a job offer for you, doll,” Bucky whispered against your temple. “We got a free position in our organization.”

“Buck, that was a surprise!” Steve tutted but smirked when your eyes lit up. Losing your job at Clint’s club got you into trouble. Your landlord wants his money on time, not weeks or months later. “What do you say, doll? Do you want to come with us?”

“No.”

“No?” Bucky backpaddled at your answer. He looked you up and down, wondering if he misheard. “Did you say no?”

You took a deep breath and gathered all the courage you could muster and looked Bucky straight in the eyes. 

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, Mr. Barnes,” you confidentially said, even though, your voice trembled, “but you are still strangers to me. I cannot go with you, to a place I don’t know. I’m shy, not crazy.”

“Aw, she’s even cuter than I thought,” Steve chuckled at your little outburst. “You’re right, Y/N. We will wait outside of your apartment for you to get ready like gentlemen. Please excuse our forwardness.”

“Steve and I will take you out for dinner and drive you back home. We can talk about the job offer on our way to the restaurant. Only if you want to, of course,” Bucky pouted and held out his hand. “Please don’t leave us hanging.”

“I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself and closed the door behind you, exhaling deeply. Your knees shook, but you were also proud of yourself for standing up against Steve and Bucky.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, smirking for a second before they chuckled. 

“She’s so cute when mad,” Bucky laughed. “God, it makes me wild imagining her squirming underneath me while I take her apart. She will whimper my name and beg me to fill her up and breed her. But not before I ate her sweet cunt.”

Steve laughed. “You’re a horny dog.”

“Says the man running around with a boner since he laid eyes on our sweet mouse,” Bucky bit back. “I hope you know I’ll have her first. She will melt in my arms.”

“I hope you know Y/N is not like the other girls you easily wrapped around your fingers.”

“I know,” the brunette smirked. “That’s what I like about her, Steve. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her that things would be different with Y/N. It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Phew, you got it bad for her,” Steve whistled.

“You are no better,” Bucky snickered. “I know you want to make her ours. Do not deny it. You’re in too deep yourself.”

Both men waited patiently for you to join them outside of your apartment. They offered their arm to you, acting like gentlemen while guiding you toward their car.

The ride toward the restaurant was both, exciting and a little scary. You got into a car with two strangers promising to make you their queen.

Steve held the door to the restaurant open for you while Bucky guided you inside.

“You’ll love the restaurant,” Bucky said as he pulled the chair for you. “Did I already tell you that you look beautiful tonight, doll?”

“Thank you,” you stammered. You didn’t know if he meant what he said. Your sky-blue mini-dress was far from elegant. While all the other women at the restaurant looked like they came straight out of a fashion magazine, you felt underdressed. “It’s new…”

“I like that color on you,” Steve cupped your chin with one hand to tilt your head. “It’s cute and sweet.�� You gasped feeling his lips press against the corner of your mouth. “Just like you.”

Bucky’s features darkened when you leaned into his friend’s touch.

“Shall we eat, doll?” He pulled a chair for you, making your heart flutter. “Steve was right, Y/N. You look beautiful in your dress. Did you buy it only for us?”

You giggled and dropped your gaze. “No,” you lied. “I bought it some weeks ago.”

“Aw, our doll believes she can lie to us, Buck,” Steve flashed you a stunning smile. “We know that you wanted to look pretty for us, Y/N. It’s not a bad thing you want to impress us. We did the same. Bucky spent two hours in his closet to find the perfect suit only to drive to town and buy a new one.”

“Steve did the same,” Bucky grabbed a chair and moved it closer to your seat. “He just likes to make everyone believe he looks good in everything without effort, including a potato sack.”

Steve grinned and ran one hand down his chest. “I’d rock that potato sack, Barnes. You know that.”

“I bet you would,” you murmured while eyeing Steve. He looked damn good in his suit and knew it. Men like him and Bucky always know how handsome they are. “You’re both very handsome.”

“Baby, you don’t have to stroke Steve’s ego,” Bucky moved his hand to your thigh to tickle your skin. “It’s already over the top. How about you stroke mine.”

“I think yours is over the top too,” you replied and gave him a tiny smirk before clearing your throat. “So…can we talk about the job now? You got me fired last night.”

“Straight to the point. I like it,” Steve grabbed the remaining chair and moved closer to yours too. He sat down only to place his hand on your other thigh. “We need someone to take care of our paperwork for our more legal business.”

“We need someone we can trust. Steve and I are rather bored when doing office work. You on the other hand have a lot of experience,” Bucky toyed with the hem of your dress while telling you more about the position you always dreamed of.

“How do you know about my work experience?”

“Baby doll, we are enchanted by you. This doesn’t mean we let a wolf in sheep’s clothing inside the inner circle of our business.” Steve pressed a soft kiss to your neck, making you sigh. “If you want the job, it’s yours.”

Bucky mirrored his partner. He pressed a soft kiss to your neck, lips nipping at the soft skin. “Oh, and the best is. You can bang your bosses…”

Tags in reblog.