#dark mafia!steve rogers x female reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

biteofcherry · 1 month

Note

Good moaning. 😇

Moaning indeed 🥵🫠

Touch The Darkness

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

just a piece that takes place in the future to the current plot of the story

warnings: dark Steve Rogers; possessiveness; Dom/sub undertones; brief mention of breathplay;

The smile on your face froze in place as you noticed the distinctive sleek car pull up onto the gravel driveway in front of the lodge.

As always, Bucky stepped out first. He moved like a shard of darkness in the brightly sunlit, serene surroundings of the lake shore. This time he didn't round the car to open the passenger's door. Steve got out of the car himself.

From the driver's seat.

Laughter and chatter still continued around you, but it all fell into a dull background noise as you stared at Steve.

What the hell was he doing here?

It was a weekend away organized as a reprieve for caregivers of patients with severe dementia. You worked for over eight months to set it up, including finding proper care options for said patients while their partners, parents and children (depending on who was the main caregiver) were away.

The main goal was to simply rest and relax, but you also made sure there were a few workshops, which is why some of the health center's staff members were with you.

Natalie, as well. She was the one who drove you two here.

"Good morning, Princess," Steve's charm was full on, contrasting with the dark aura flowing around his broad frame like a villain's cloak.

If Bucky was a shard of darkness, Steve was the heart of it, stepping through the sunny day like a fallen angel strolling straight from the pit of hell into the marble heavens.

The nature itself seemed to grew taut and wary of his presence.

Your coworkers and guests, even if they sensed the danger that accompanied Steve, seemed more fascinated and in awe.

"Steve?" You gulped, eyeing him suspiciously.

Yet your body turned his way; a thrill skimming through your limbs as he sneaked a hand around your middle and leaned down to kiss you.

"Hello everyone," without easing his hold on you, Steve greeted the others. His hearts-winning and panty-dropping smile fooling everyone.

He explained how he wanted to support you, especially the idea of a weekend away, since the two of you have been so busy lately.

You didn't believe a single word.

It was when he insisted on the two of you going for a short stroll, while everyone was preparing ingredients to grill for dinner (somehow Bucky took the lead in that, commanding others with barely any word spoken), that Steve's agenda became clear.

Seemingly casually, Steve asked brief questions about each of your staff members. Until he asked about Joaquin.

"Is he a good doctor?" Steve's hand cradled your chin as he tilted your head to look in the direction of the young neurologist.

"Yes." You frowned, not yet realizing where it was leading.

"It would be a shame then, if the center lost him." Steve turned your face back to him. His hand slid down, rings adorned fingers curling around the front of your neck in that possessive manner that weakened your knees.

"It would be a shame, if no hospital or clinic were ever to discover his brilliance, because he got himself killed for flirting with my fucking wife."

Steve's voice remained softly composed, but the last three words were punctuated with his blue eyes turning icy cold and his fingers clenching tighter around your throat.

"He wasn't-" you tried to protest, but at Steve's arched eyebrow you relented.

Okay, so maybe Joaquin was making it quite obvious that he liked spending time with you and always found a reason to be near. It was pleasant, but harmless.

Or so you thought.

Since you weren't tempted to go with it, you didn't think it was risky to reciprocate some smiles, or letting Joaquin swipe an eyelash threatening to fall into your eyes while your own hands were dirty.

You didn't expect Steve's spy to tattle on you about something insignificant like that.

"Don't hurt him, please." Your reached for Steve's free hand, squeezing it in both of yours as you looked up at him.

"Is that your good heart speaking, or do you have feelings for him?" Steve inched closer and despite being in an the open, you felt caged.

His warmth seeped through you, starting a wave of heat that flushed you. His proximity had the hair on the back of your neck standing to attention in fear, but your nipples hardening in arousal.

You wished that you were the person you claimed to be nearly a year ago, so that falling for someone so sweet like Joaquin would be expected and normal. Instead, you weren't even mildly interested in him, but in the devil who had your body responding to his power.

Steve's gaze slowly dropped to your parted lips, then down to your chest and the stiff peaks pointing through your shirt. He looked lower, to how your were clenching his free hand within yours and holding it against your belly.

A corner of his mouth dragged up in a pleased smirk. The bastard knew you were itching to have his fingers slide under the waistband of your jeans.

"Is everything okay?" Your eyes widened as Joaquin unexpectedly walked over, but you didn't dare look away from Steve's eyes.

"Quite perfect, actually," Steve chuckled.

Joaquin frowned, his gaze shifting between the two of you. It landed on your neck and the glint of sun in silver rings on Steve's fingers, which were tightly wrapped around your throat.

Joaquin called your name.

A muscle in Steve's jaw twitched, as if he could barely stand another man saying your name.

"He's worried, Princess." Steve cooed. "Why don't you tell him how wet your panties are just from my hand on your throat?"

You felt the scorching flame of embarrassment burning your from the inside, wishing the ground would simply swallow you whole.

But you knew that playing along was the only way of ensuring that Joaquin would live to see another day.

"They're soaked," you muttered, eyelashes fluttering as you cast your gaze downwards.

Steve smirked, triumphantly. He stroked his thumb along the side of your neck in a rewarding caress.

"See," Steve cocked his head, looking at Joaquin with lazy confidence of a man who couldn't be bothered by anyone's threats, "my wife likes it on the kinky side. But she is a tad shy, so we'd appreciate if you left us to our privacy."

Joaquin left, or rather bolted. Was he embarrassed on your behalf, or did he plan on calling someone else for help, you weren't sure.

"You humiliated me in front of a colleague and employee." You grumbled when Steve's gaze returned to you.

"Princess, he's more outraged with the fact he won't ever get to sample your dirty cravings, than with knowing you have them." Steve chuckled, moving his hand so that his thumb rubbed along your bottom lip.

"And it's better for him-" Steve's tone lowered as he pushed his thumb into your mouth- "if he understands that you belong to me and no force is going to change that."

You thought Steve meant that display alone as the supposed lesson for Joaquin.

But he proved you wrong later that night, when he took you hard on the creaking bed in your small room in the lodge.

Steve's big hand was pressed over your mouth, muffling your sounds and occasionally also cutting off your airflow, while he made you cum until you sobbed.

When he fucked you right into your fourth orgasms, you didn't expect him to lift his hand from your face.

Your cry of ecstasy echoed through the lodge.

#navybrat817 #dark mafia!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #touch the darkness #steve rogers fic #dark mafia!steve rogers x reader #dark mafia!steve rogers x female reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x female reader

279 notes · View notes

marvelvillian23 · 2 months

Text

PLEASE!! I need fics rec for all of these! Especially the Convict. Please be multi Chapter fics.

It even can be Steve in these situations instead of Bucky I don’t mind.

*Photos From Pinterest

I’m currently reading Blood Moon Rising on AO3 by Sarahyellow.

It’s a A/B/O prison story where Bucky’s the convict and pre serum Steve is the prison counselor…I think. A riot breaks out and Bucky takes Steve hostage. 5/8 Chapters are up so far.

211 notes · View notes

sarahowritesostucky · 3 months

Text

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 3 The Knight

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 3195

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

Wait! I haven't read part 1, part 2!

“Nnn, pl-please…”

Her gasp is hardly audible this time, she’s so out of breath.

Panting from the way the second orgasm’s just ripped through her. And she’s crying still, but only just. Not like before. Because now the pleasure’s overtaken most of the anger, all of the fear, and even some of the humiliation. Bucky pulls his hands from her and delicately eases her panties back into place, smooths her little slip of a dress out for her. He looks up from his spot on the floor.

Her chest heaves with her breathing, the underside of her breasts—beautiful and natural under the silk—on full display for Bucky from this angle. And, Christ, her nipples are pebbled up, just begging for attention. Bucky sees Steve refixing his hold on her waist to support her because she’s gone so slack. She’s shaking against him, his body practically the only thing keeping her vertical at this point.

Inside his pants, Bucky is … uncomfortable. He slowly pushes up from where he’s been kneeling in front of her, coming back to stand at his full height and crowd in close again. He cages her between his body and Steve’s, hands landing on her waist right alongside Steve’s own. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, mockingly tender. “Don’t you want to say thank you for your orgasm?” He leans in so that the words are whispered against the side of her head. He’s staring at Steve as he says it, and when Lena’s mortified, overwhelmed little whimper comes in response, he doesn’t miss how Steve’s mouth twitches at the corner. Steve likes to play the white knight—and maybe he sort of is, compared to Bucky, but even still, he’s no sweetheart. And he’s enjoying the heck out of this. “Are you hard?” Bucky whispers, and he feels his sweet puppy’s body stiffen between them as she figures out who he’s talking to.

“You have to ask?” Steve answers, the rumble of his voice no doubt felt against Polina’s back. She makes another little outraged cry when Steve presses forward, driving his erection against her backside and pushing her more tightly up against Bucky.

Bucky, who helpfully slots his thigh back between her legs. She shivers as her sex is pressed up against him, going stock still to avoid any stimulation. Bucky coos down at her. He lets go of her waist and cups her face with one hand, tucking her hair behind her ear with the other. “Aw, princess,” he murmurs. “You sensitive now? Hm?”

She sniffles and nods her head. She’s been much more forthcoming ever since the suppository and the pill worked their way into her system. Behind the glossy sheen of her tears, her pupils are even wider and darker than Steve’s. It’s hardly taken any work at all to get her to come twice for him, she’s so keyed up.

Bucky tuts lovingly and brings the still buzzing vibrator up in front of her face. He twists the base, turning it off. Lena’s whole body slumps between them with relief, and Bucky chuckles. “Don’t get too excited. This might not be over for you.”

“W-what …” she swallows dryly. “What do you mean?”

“You still have a choice to make.” Bucky taps the little bullet vibrator against her lips. “Open.” She clamps her mouth shut stubbornly, so Bucky shrugs and rubs it over her instead, smearing her own release onto her lips. He leans in and slots his mouth over hers, licking the taste of her right back. “Mmm,” he hums. “Somebody’s been drinking their pineapple juice.”

She’s glowering at him when he pulls back. Bucky licks his lips like he’s savoring the last taste of a fatty meal. He can tell from the look on her face that he’s actually right: she has been drinking it. He feels a rush of fondness mixed with anger come at that—Fond, because it’s proof that she takes even his smallest teachings to heart.

“No, seriously. That’s why I have a glass each morning. It makes cum taste sweeter. … Pussy, too.”

Anger, because it’s not him she’s been drinking it for.

He forces the latter emotion away with a deep breath and a long exhale. He doesn’t have to be angry, because nobody but him is ever going to taste that pussy again. … Well, almost nobody but him. “Okay, little one,” he sighs. “Time to make a choice.” He reaches around her and tucks the vibe back into Steve’s pocket. Then he looks down and meets her gaze.

Her pretty blue eyes are wide but dazed, high from the drugs coursing through her system. Bucky smiles and cups her face with both hands. She’s so fucking beautiful, with her round little face and plush lips, her pretty blue eyes. They’re near arctic in color—closer to Steve’s cornflower blue than Bucky’s own muddled blue-grey. Sharp and clear, like ice underwater, and positively gorgeous when they’re crying.

Lena sniffles and Bucky’s heart twinges with affection. He leans in and kisses her cheeks, cleaning up her tears. “You need to listen to me now, Polina,” he murmurs, feeling her shudder underneath his touch. “Are you listening?”

She whines a little, not able to give up completely on her stubbornness, even now. Bucky loves her so goddamn much. She tries to squirm in their hold again, but as soon as her over sensitized clit bumps Bucky’s thigh, she’s calming back down. “What?” she asks quietly, sniffling and trying to put on a stiff upper lip. It’s cute.

“It’s up to you, how this goes,” Bucky tells her. He looks over to his right and catches the eye of one of the widows. It’s Belova. He jerks his head for her to go and get the supplies that are waiting in the wings. She disappears and reappears with a rolling tray table of tattoo supplies. “This,” he says to Lena, “is what’s happening.”

She squints in confusion at it for a second or two—the tray of gauze and ointment, inks and gloves and gun—before her eyes register the stencil and read it … and go wide in realization. She jerks in their hold, thrashing, tossing her head back against Steve’s chest in another vain attempt to hurt him. “No!” she huffs, the sound breaking into a pitiful whimper at the end, despite her bravery. “No, you can’t!”

Bucky waits her out, and sure enough, her little tantrum dies down. She cries, and he wipes those tears away, too. “Shh,” he soothes. “It’s not so bad.”

“It is!” she cries. “I hate you. I hate you!”

“You’re a smart girl, Lena. You can’t tell me you didn’t always know you’d wind up here.” He tilts her chin up when she refuses to look at him. Her tearful, angry eyes meet his, and he offers her a tender smile. He gives her another kiss, just a peck on the lips, this time. “I always get what I want, sora mica,” he murmurs, right against her lips.

Little sister.

She shudders underneath his touch but doesn’t shirk away, and Bucky preens because he knows the war that’s going on in her head right now, even if she’ll never admit to it. Revulsion, mixed with lust, and darkness, and something too close for comfort to love. It’s what he used to feel, back before he decided to give up on conventional morality altogether. Poor little Lena, though, he thinks sadly. She hasn’t gotten there yet. Oh well, she’s young, she’ll learn.

“Now,” he tells her, thumbing over the familial cleft in her chin. “You have two choices, sweet pea. You ready to listen to ‘em?”

She grits her teeth and purses her lips in an angry little moue, stubborn thing, though she capitulates when Bucky tightens his grip on her chin. “Yes,” she whispers tightly.

Bucky smiles. “Okay. Now, two things are happening, no matter what,” he says, raising a warning eyebrow at her. “You’re getting this tattooed on your body … and Gleb back there is going for a long swim in the Hudson.” He waits her out while she throws another hissy fit over that, tears leaking and eyes burning up at him. Bucky sighs and looks off to the side until it’s over. Then, when she’s slumped back against Steve again, all tuckered out, he continues, “If you hold still like a good girl, I won’t take your dress off in front of all these people, won’t force any more orgasms outta you down here where everyone can see. And Gleb’ll get wheeled off to his morphine and an easy death. No torture, just the widow’s bite—lickety-split, no fuss-no muss.”

He watches as her eyes flare and her face crumples with suppressed emotion. She composes herself faster this time, though, and he continues softly, drawing her lip down with his thumb. “But, if you make things difficult? I’ll have you squirting all over this floor before I knock you out and ink you while you’re unconscious. And Gleb will have …” he looks off to the side, as if trying to parse out his words, “... mmm, he’ll have a very stressful weekend.” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes, squeezing her chin sternly enough that it smooshes her cheeks the barest bit. “Are you gonna be good?”

She looks torn for a second or two, but then her eyes slip closed in defeat. In Bucky’s hand, she gives the tiniest of nods.

Bucky’s pleased, but he wants more from her. “Tell me,” he commands. “You’re gonna hold nice and still?”

She sniffles and nods again. “Yes,” she breathes. “I’ll hold s-still. I’ll … I’ll be good.”

Her meek response satisfies him. Feeling a sudden wash of tenderness towards her, he leans down and presses their foreheads together and whispers, “Thank you, little one. You know how I hate to see you struggle.”

She shivers against him but doesn’t throw out any bratty quip. She keeps her eyes down, avoidant. Sighing, Bucky pulls back and steps aside to have a word with Belova. He tells her his plans for Gleb, and she gives a sharp nod and heads off to handle it. Bucky knows then that he can put the idiot man from his mind for good. The widows will more than take care of him.

Bucky returns to Steve and Lena, ready to get to work. Really, he’d prefer Natasha to be the one doing this. Bucky’s no amateur with the gun, but he’s not as good as she is. Oh well. He has a steady hand, and the design is extremely simple. Just that one phrase, in cyrillic:

собственность дракона.

Translated roughly, it means: Property of the Dragon.

“Steve,” Bucky says. “Sit with her on the bench. It’ll help keep her calm.”

Along with the cart of tattoo supplies, a rolling stool, a bench, and a padded armrest have been brought over from the Red Room. Steve all but lifts Lena and brings her over there, straddling the bench first before pulling her to straddle it in front of him. Bucky goes about setting up, snapping on a pair of black vinyl gloves while Steve wraps his arms around Lena’s waist and murmurs quietly into her ear. Bucky smiles at the pair of them. Steve cares about Polina, too, has known her for almost a decade, and he’s always had a knack for calming her down. A good thing, since Bucky’s so naturally gifted at riling her up.

He sits on the stool and scoots over to them. Lena watches him warily. Steve’s used both his and Bucky’s discarded ties to bind her arm down at the wrist and at the bend of her elbow, in case she gets second thoughts about her promise of good behavior. Bucky’s mouth quirks at the ingenuity, and his dick twitches at the optics. He’ll have to take a picture, one he’s got the ink in. A shot of her arm; reddened and bleeding with his mark, and his and Steve’s neckties framing it. Fuck, he might jerk off to it sometime.

He spends a minute getting the ink prepared, and then he carefully cleans her inner forearm and applies the stencil. It’s small but long, stretching almost the full length between the ties. It’ll take a good hour or more in its entirety, but Bucky isn’t a sadist: His little one has been through a lot, and they’ve got a long night ahead of them once they take her upstairs. Bucky wants that time to be spent mostly in pleasure, not pain. They’ll just do the outline, for now.

Lena whimpers when the paper peels back from her skin, revealing the design left behind. “Bucky,” she pleads, though one look up at him and her begging stalls. Bucky gives her a grim, apologetic look, and she knows. She knows she’s not getting out of this. She whines lowly and turns her face into Steve’s shoulder.

“Shhh,” he soothes her, his big arms wrapped tightly around her waist, comforting and restraining all at once. “You’ll be fine, hon. This is how it has to be.”

Bucky settles himself and the gun, then turns it on. Soon, the buzzing fills the small space between the three of them. In the background there’s still the noise of the club: music, chatter, bodies moving around. But in their little corner in the back, it almost feels private now that they’re centered around what Bucky’s about to do to her. “Okay, malyshka,” he murmurs, waiting until he’s got her full attention. “Watch the gun. Don’t want you jerking around in surprise.”

He’s a little taken aback by the emotions that hit, as he brings the needle down and starts inking her for the first time. He’s marking her permanently, branding her as his in a way that will never wash off, and from which she can never escape. And despite her tears and the ties binding her arm down, she is sitting there for him, allowing it. That goes straight to Bucky’s cock as sure as anything else he’s ever done to her, and he spends the rest of the session focusing on each line and curve, putting the red ink underneath her skin and trying to work out what it is that’s twisting up in his gut so bad. There’s lust and possessiveness, that much he expected, but there’s also a certain amount of … melancholy? Maybe. Whatever it is, it’s there too. A feeling of resolution, of an era coming to an end. Arousing and yet oddly bittersweet.

Lena’s fist is already clenched when he starts, but he can see her body stiffening further as the burn of the needle really sets in. Her arm flexes and her fingers curl harder into her palm, the veins popping against the strained lock of her inner elbow. Steve keeps up a gentle litany of praise and reassurance in her ear, half of which Bucky hears and half of which he misses due to his own focus on the gun. He’d love to take Steve’s place, be the one to hold her and comfort her through this, but that’s just not possible because he simply doesn’t trust anyone else to do the work.

He’s even glad that Natasha refused to do it, at this point. Because this isn’t just any tattoo. It’s personal and intimate. A promise as good as any wedding ring. Probably better-than, in the fidelity it’ll enforce. Not on Lena’s part, poor thing, but on the part of any man who might dare to entertain the idea of an affair with her. One look at her arm, and that idea would go straight up in smoke. These red words are branding her for life, in more ways than one. It’s only right that Bucky be the one to do it.

“Almost done,” he murmurs when he’s finishing up at her wrist. It’s the most painful area, and he regrets saving it for last. But his girl does beautifully and keeps relatively still, sometimes hissing or whining in pain but never asking for a break, and never twitching enough to throw Bucky off course. He finishes the outline and sits back, setting the gun aide on the cart and reaching for the salve. He smiles at his little one, who by now has stopped crying. “Good job, sweet pea,” he praises softly.

Her defenses are down from having all of her focus on something other than him for so long. She only blushes a little when he uses the nickname, and says nothing snarky back. Bucky’s heart pulls with it. In Steve’s lap, she watches as Bucky uses a tongue depressor to apply the salve in long, smooth strokes over the raw areas. She blinks at her arm like she’s fully waking from a dream. “... That’s it?” she asks, sounding surprised, maybe even disappointed—though that’s probably just Bucky’s wishful thinking.

“For now,” he tells her, bringing out the non-stick pads and adhesive wrap. He’s giving her all the aftercare that he’s neglected on himself—already the back of his neck and shoulders feels tight and unpleasant, and he doesn’t want the same for her. Steve pulls the ties loose to release her arm, and Bucky explains, “You have delicate skin, sweetheart. We’ll let this heal, fill it in another time. Add some other design elements, if you want.” He catches her look of surprise and smiles, then looks away before her expression can shutter on him. He gently applies the pads along her skin, wrapping her up in an opera glove’s length worth of neon pink animal print bandaging, nice and tight. “There you go.”

“Cheetah print, really?”

“Just special for you, my little hellcat. Don’t worry, you can take it off tomorrow.” He rolls out on the stool and goes around to stand just in front of the bench. Briefly, he meets Steve’s eyes, and they have a short, non-verbal conversation, at the end of which Steve nods smally in agreement. “Okay,” Bucky says, reaching out to palm Lena’s face.

She automatically goes to shirk away from it, but Steve whispers something in her ear—Bucky doesn’t hear what—and it makes her settle. She bites her lip and peeks up at Bucky through her lashes and ruined makeup. “I was good,” she whispers, like she’s half-sure Bucky’s going to revoke his end of the deal.

He tries not to let it show on his face, how that hurts him. “Yeah, sweetheart. You were very good.” He bends over to kiss the top of her head, then turns and searches out Belova. She’s standing next to Maximoff now, over at the bar. Bucky goes over and holds out his hand. Pietro shakes first, Yelena second. “Thank you,” he tells them. “For bringing her back safely.”

“Again,” Yelena says with a smirk and a semi-suppressed eyeroll.

“You should get a leash,” Pietro jokes.

“Or a homing beacon.”

Bucky waves them off (though the homing beacon idea has occurred before), telling them to go back to their drinks and enjoy their evening. He doesn’t bother asking if the Gleb issue’s been dealt with—he knows from the look on Belova’s face that it has.

Part four

Masterlist

If you like what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup!

Commissions: contact via Tumblr messenger or here

161 notes · View notes

binkszamsstuff · 2 years

Text

Lion and the lamb

Warnings include: cussing, mention of sex, cheating, strip clubs, drinking,kissing mafia bucky being an butthole. Happy ending.

Mean!mafia bucky x sweet innocent fem reader

You walked through the dark club, women and men dancing on poles their bodies swaying with the sultry music as the purple light off the bulbs made them look mysterious. But that's not what you were here for. You were here to let him know he had fate in his hands.

You didnt belong here, no not in bit. Your light pink flowy dress that ended mid thigh and kitten heels was your version of going out clothes. At the back in the lounge there he sat with women and men flocking him left to right. His smirk was unnerving to you, he once made you feel light and while now he scared you. His choice scared you, he could laugh in your face but here you were.

You stood more to the side of him while he sat in the couch two ladies with long hair down to their bottoms sat next to him rubbing and kissing all over him. "U-um james?"

At that moment bucky barnes the notorious mafia boss almost flattered. You. It was you, once a upon a time you were his sweet girl, his love. But that was 2 years ago things had changed. The two of you happened fast, one night in a club like this he met you. Your friend had taken you out and when he saw your doe eyes look around the club of drunk and slutty people like it was a lions den he loved you.

James Buchanan barnes never thought of love. Never in his life he wanted marriage, kids a wife. But once he had you it all changed, he was head over heels for his little lamb. The two of you were together for three years and engaged, until one day james came home telling you to 'pack your shit and get the fuck out' you tried to ask him what was wrong and if you messed up somewhere. Tears streamed down your face, and you begged him to tell you.

"I dont want you anymore, your all dried up. I don't need you." Was all he said as he slammed the door in your face.

The girls on his side gave you a dirty look, "I'm sure you dont want me here but can we please talk?" You asked softly.

Bucky didnt think of you often. He never let himself dwell on what he had. The reason to why he shut you out was unknown to everyone except him. The men he worked with laughed and judged him for only having one woman, you.

His father even laughed and called him a pussy for trying to marry and be in love. He ignored it for a while until one night at Steve's birthday party at a strip club he made the worst mistake of his life. He cheated. The voices in his head made him to act. And the funny part is he didnt even plan on staying long only an hour or two and then come home to you. Kiss have some loving and soft sex that he treasured and go to bed all snuggled up with you. but of crouse once steve heard that the comments came rolling in.

So when he was driving home the anger pulsed through him. He couldn't believe he had cheated on the most perfect girl in the whole world. His lamb, his everything, his love so he blamed it on you. If you just hadn't gotten in his way he would never be here, if you hadn't made him love you he wouldn't look weak.

"You're right I dont want you here" he sneered at you.

"Please? Can we talk and after this I'll leave and we can put this away forever"

His eyes hung with saddness for a second until he was once stoic again. "Fine but hurry up I've got bitches to fuck" the girls beside him giggled. He is so cold now. You thought.

"C-can we go somewhere private maybe?" You asked nicely and again he scoffed.

"Listen I dont have time for your baby bullshit spit it out!" You flinched and nodded awkwardly ringing your fingers.

"Alright then, um so I'm engaged to this new guy and he's really sweet and all-"

"Why the fuck should i care!" He cut you off. In reality he did care and he felt the tugg on his heart that you wouldn't be his. Someone elses lamb.

"I'm telling you because even though you dont want me anymore I still really love you and I know if I dont tell you now before i marry him I'll regret it I love him too but it's just different. I know it's stupid but I thought maybe it was worth a try, I'm sorry for wasting your time."

You walked away from him crying, the girls beside him laughed the whole time you talked and he hated them now. It had been two years since the break up and you still loved him more then anything, you would do and give him anything he wanted. And if that meant not being with him you would do so but you also needed to move on in some way.

He watched you walk away wiping your tears. What did you do bucky, FUCK!? He thought to himself the one woman he ever loved just confused her love for him in front of rude ass people getting humiliated by him and them even after he broke your heart you still wanted him.

He got up "hey were are you going!?" The girls said "fuck off" he said before running after you.

When he got outside he he started to search frantically for you. "Y/n! Y/n baby come here!" He ran through the parking lot looking inbetween cars. Then he found you crying in your car, head resting on the wheel he now only noticed the big rock on your left ring finger.

Banging on the glass and accidentally scaring you. "Open the door!" He shouted so you could hear him through the glass you unlocked the door and not a second later he swung it open and bent pulling you into his arms.

"I'm so sorry y/n, I love you too I was such fucking fool to let you go. Lamb I'm so sorry please I'll do anything to get you back don't marry him." Bucky was now the one begging and one single tear fell from his eye. You caught it with your small finger whispering "dont cry" god your were so soft and sweet. He was rude and mean to you and yet here you are telling him not to cry while seconds ago you were sobbing because of him.

"I'm so sorry, y/n baby I love you"

"I love you too Jamie" he pulled you into a kiss that held every last drop of love in it.

And so the lion fell for the lamb....again.

#bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshots #steve rogers #dark bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes au #mafia bucky #bucky angst #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x female reader

374 notes · View notes

buckybraneslover111 · 1 year

Text

Mafia Wedding moodboard

this is a mood board for chapter 11, yes the reader and Bucky do get married in this series

61 notes · View notes

eat-limes-bitches · 4 months

Text

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Farmer Socrned

PAIRING: Female Rancher! Reader x Mafia Boss!Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: When his lover is snatched from her ranch, everyone better watch out, and not for the reason they all thought.

WARNINGS: Cannon-level violence, mentions of blood, fighting etc.

Word Count: 1284

A/N: Wow here we are! My first AU! I had this idea while I was a work the other day and thought it was funny. Sorry if it is not that coherent but I tried. If you guys want to see more of this pairing send me some ideas! I'd love to try some more of these two!

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

James Bucky Barnes was known for many things, brilliant, cold, ruthless, fierce ruler of the Brooklyn mafia, amongst many other things. One thing he was not known for was his cool temperament when someone he cared for was in danger which is why his two most trusted men, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson hesitated outside of their boss's office door, not sure how they would break the news. After sucking a deep breath, the pair walked into the room. Bucky sat at his sturdy redwood desk, feet propped up as he leaned back in his lavish office chair. His gaze snapped from the contract to his men standing in the doorway before returning to the papers in his hand as he spoke.

“How may I help you, gentleman?” His deep voice reverberated across the room.

“They’ve got her, boss,” Sam stated evenly, ice dancing across each word. Bucky was on his feet in an instant, staring down the mean in front of him.

“What?” He hissed, any other person in his company would have shivered at the venom lashing out of his words, but it just caused Steve to sigh looking his boss, his dear friend in the eyes.

“They got Y/n at the farm this morning. They just sent in a live video feed that Stark has pulled up in the conference room no-”

Before the words could finish leaving Steve’s mouth, Bucky was shoving past them and all but running down the hall to the conference room. He burst into the room to see Tony messing with the camera feed while the rest of his most trusted men sat around the table, staring at Bucky waiting for his reaction. Bucky walked over to his chair placing his hands on the back of it as he stared at the screen playing the live video feed of Y/n sitting there, tied to a chair with some plastic-coated twine, no doubt from the truck she was in earlier that morning.

Bucky’s eyes traced over her frame, looking for any injuries. If there was so much a hair out of place he thought as his ringed fingers gripped the plush material even harder, causing his knuckles to turn white. As he continued his assessment he landed on her face and it was then that he sucked in a breath, taking notice of how her once soft lips were now busted up and the small gash across the bridge of her nose. What caused him to let out a breath was the overall look on her face. She was livid. Her jaw clenched tightly, her once sparkling eyes dark with fury, he could practically see the rage pouring off of her. Evidently, the guards standing on either side of her took notice as they began to shift uncomfortably.

She's going to be fine. Bucky thinks to himself as he lets out a small sigh of relief.

Bucky pulled out his chair and sat down calmly, catching everyone in the room, including Steve and Sam who had joined the room just a few moments ago, off guard. He cocked his head sideways,

“Will you let them know that we are all present Stark? That seems to be what they are waiting on.” He spoke, his tone even and calm causing everyone to share looks as Tony patched in the audio.

“Afternoon Barnes.” A voice called out as a figure walked around from behind the camera revealing Brock Rumalow, the leader of the rival mob who had been fighting with the Barnes Corp. For many years.

“Looks like you are starting to slack, she was an easy grab.” Rumalow sneered as he approached Y/n, walking around her chair as he ran his hand up her arm and wrapping a hand around the back of her neck causing an even more crossed look to appear on her face.

“Such a shame, I don’t understand why you would let such a pretty little thing out of your sight.”

The atmosphere in the conference room was tense. Everyone knew about the sweet little cattle rancher Bucky fell in love with many months ago. He had finally brought her around during the Christmas party last month where she was loved by everyone who was able to talk with her. However, she was new to this world, his world and so everyone was worried about her the moment they heard she was taken, but watching her now, she didn’t seem the least bit scared, more annoyed than anything, causing confusion to ripple through the air, but no questions were asked as Rumalow continued speaking,

“I believe she has a few things to say to you, James.” He crowed walking away from Y/n with a pat on her cheek, returning to his position behind the camera while she let out a loud huff.

“Yeah, I got some things to say alright. If you aint here in the next hour, I’m gonna be walking home myself. I got a mare due any day now and these asswipes didn’t bother to close the cattle gate after they got me so now all the cattle are probably running amuck stressing out poor Parker.”

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, only Y/n would be worried about her poor farm hand while she sat tied down to a chair by her boyfriend's rival gang.

“I got the location of the camera Buck,” Tony calls out from behind the computer, “It’s only a few blocks away, in that old warehouse on the junction of 5th Avenue and Bakers Street.”

Bucky brushed invisible dust off his pants and started to speak when there was a large commotion coming from the video feed.

Everyone watched in pure shock as Y/n snapped the twine holding her in place, jumping up and kicking a chair at one guard and wrapping the now wrecked twine around the other's neck yanking him down to the ground, his skull hitting the floor with a sickening crack.

Once the guards were dispatched, Y/n glanced to her left before darting off in that direction, the shock of her escape must have finally worn off of Rumalow because everyone, except for Bucky, jumped to their feet as gunshots began ringing out behind the field of view of the camera. There is a loud metallic “thwang!” before Y/n returned to view, holding an old shovel with a small smattering of blood on it and an even more disgruntled look on her face as she examines her once clean cream and blue plaid shirt that was now ruined by a few small patches of blood.

Bucky smiles as he hears a few curses leave her mouth along with a “I just got the blood out of this shirt”.

Y/n then walks up to the camera, letting out a huff as she picks it up and starts making her way towards the side exit. She glances down at the camera before she starts speaking,

“By the looks of it, you have 45 minutes to get here before I start walking, which believe me you do not want me doing that. ‘Cause I swear to God and all that is holy James Buchannan Barnes if that foal is on the ground by the time I get back I’m whooping your and everyone else in that room's asses.”

Bucky chuckles and stands up looking at Sam and Steve as he motions for them to come with him to the garage to pick up Y/n.

“It looks like she had them after all.” Bucky muses as they enter the elevator. The other men nod in agreement as Sam then says, “Remind me to never piss her off.”

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #mafia au #mafia boss!Bucky x Rancher!Reader #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x you

443 notes · View notes

shininglikeyoursmile · 4 months

Text

Til the end of the line.❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader; Bucky Barnes x female reader. Mob boss Steve Rogers x female reader (no Stucky)

Word count : around 500

Summary: When the closeness of Steve felt suffocating you ran away with Bucky. You did the right thing, right? Even though they are best friends, or were......

Warning: 18+ only. Dark elements. Mob elements. (More to be added as we proceed). No body description of the reader. NO STUCKY!

A/n : All grammatical mistakes are my own. No betad. You are responsible for your media consumption. COMMENTS, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE SO MUCH APPRECIATED!!!! 🥰☺️🥰😍🤩 PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK 😍😍😍🌹🌹🌹I would love to hear your thoughts 🥰. Cause if there's none the story won't proceed 🫣

It's okay. You tell yourself as you look out the window. The sky is clear and the shade resembles his eyes , deep blue eyes, a gaze which can make you freeze or run for your life.

Steve Rogers was something else. Was, as in the past, you left him. Everything about him made you insane but in a good way but you needed to run so he couldn't find you . Steve Rogers, the mafia boss, a king who owns, someone you shouldn't mess with. He is just no one, you tell yourself as you get settled on the couch. "I believe that's it" comes a voice behind you. You tilt your neck to meet his eyes. Bucky. Bucky Barnes . The man who helped you to run away. The equal of Steve . Someone you admire.

"Yeah" you sigh and touch your ear, a habit of nervousness. "It's alright. He will never find us, Doll" he assures and takes the seat next to you . "But that doesn't mean he won't try" you question the uncertainty in your voice. You know he will. "Relax, Doll", Bucky smiles and rubs your arm "I'll protect you ". You believe him, of course you believe him. He brought you here , knowing his best friend will become his enemy. "You wanna eat something?" You smile as you stand up,"I am gonna make some Coffee". He nods and you go to the Kitchen.

His phone rings, the name 'Steve' flashing across the screen. He switches off the screen, for now he just wants to enjoy it. Enjoy what he couldn't cause Steve had you. He was a possessive bastard, always dangling you right in front of his eyes. Something he could never have. But One day, you came to him running, and you said you wanted to run . He just helped you ,right? He returns your smile as you hand him the Coffee. Now you are his, only his. Even though you think he helped you to run away from Steve but there's more. Bucky knows you want him and if you don't he'll make sure you crave every inch of his very being.

Steve looks at the screen, the voicemail making him more irritated with every second that passes. He will think about it later but Where the hell are you? He hasn't seen you.And if you are somewhere he can't get a hold of there will be War. A Fucking war. "Boss", comes a voice and Steve moves to the door "You need to see this" .

***

UHM WHAT FO WE THINK?!?😳 IS BUCKY AS GOOD AS HE SEEMS?! WAS IT A GOOD IDEA? WHAT WILL STEVE DO?

#steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #Steve Rogers x female reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barns x y/n #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mob boss steve rogers #mob boss bucky barnes

42 notes · View notes

sunshinebuckybarnes · 1 year

Text

It's gonna be May 🩷 we made it through April babies! Here's every glorious thing I read in April. Please make sure you give these gorgeous stories and writers the love they deserve. As always, you are responsible for your own media consumption. This blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and contain adult themes.

Happy reading 🩷🌷

Bucky Barnes ✨

Though I have never read it by @tuiccim

Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Her by @avecra

bucky barnes x reader

Sweet temptation by @jobean12-blog

Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob AU)

Thick as blood / punch in the gut by @dreamlessinparis

Dark!Bucky x Darkish!F!Reader

Say the word and it's yours by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Cordially invited by @navybrat817

Modern Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Female Reader

Grandeur by @navybrat817

Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Crossing the line by @jadedvibes

Beefy!Bucky x reader

Give it to me by @flordeamatista

dilf!neighbor bucky barnes x reader

Dirty rock by @jobean12-blog

Bucky Barnes x reader (Rockstar!AU)

Send me an angel by @navybrat817

Soft Dark Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Hide and seek by @targaryenvampireslayer

Bucky Barnes x female reader

You are my burning love on nights like these by @flordeamatista

knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Fem!Reader

Headstrong by @flordeamatista

beefy!bucky barnes x reader

The kiss by @lunarbuck

professor!bucky x f!reader (any race)

Namor ✨

Waves of love by @flordeamatista

Namor x reader

Ari Levinson ✨

Flamingo king by @onsunnyside

Trailer Park!Ari Levinson x inexperienced!reader

Biker!Ari by @angrythingstarlight

Biker!Ari x Reader

Excelled by @syntheticavenger

Dom! Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Steve Rogers ✨

Pretty flowers for a pretty girl by @witchywithwhiskey

farmer!steve rogers x reader

His inheritance by @jtargaryen18

Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Eddie Munson ✨

Magic fingers by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

Andy Barber ✨

Sleepy sex by @worksby-d

Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Hold my heart by @flordeamatista

boyfriend!andy barber x reader

Joel Miller ✨

Sweet, sweet sugar by @unrefinedmusings

no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Perfectly wrong by @psychedelic-ink

joel miller x fem!reader

Lloyd Hansen ✨

Gratitude by @kinanabinks

Lloyd Hansen x Mayor!Reader

Multiple characters ✨

Wicked little games by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia Steve x Bratty Reader, Bodyguard Bucky x Reader x Bodyguard Andy

Peepshow by @labella420

Ari Levinson x F!Reader, Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Let us take care of you by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia Stucky x Assistant Reader

#fic rec #april fic rec #bucky barnes #namor #ari levinson #steve rogers #eddie munson #andy barber #joel miller #lloyd hansen

168 notes · View notes

scrumptious-delusion · 1 year

Note

Hi Hannah!💕 How about "Beyond the Light We See" with Steve Rogers, please?

BEYOND THE LIGHT WE SEE

fake fic title drabbles

summary: after the curtains are drawn and the lights are out, how well do any of us know our neighbours?

pairing: mafia enforcer!steve rogers x artist!female reader

warnings: swearing, violence, murder, mention of: blood, knives, and alcohol.

a/n: i don't know where this came from.

excerpt:

The windows of your twenty-second floor apartment don’t offer stunning views of the bustling city around you. Instead they tease a glimpse into the lives of those who reside in the apartment building opposite yours.

However, the disappointing reality was that all of the apartments within your view - except one, hardly ever opened their curtains or blinds, remaining completely anonymous.

Though as luck would have it, the one apartment exempt from that truth happened to be perfectly level with your own, and with no one else to observe, it didn’t take long for you to become accustomed to the man who occupied it.

A few years older than you, he always leaves for work while you’re still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and he doesn’t return until late, when you’re already dressed in pyjamas.

He rarely watches television but his record player never seems to turn off, forever spinning one of his many vinyls. He exercises shirtless, cooks for himself, and nearly every night he sits in the armchair that faces his floor-to-ceiling windows and sips his choice of alcohol from a lowball glass.

You first bore witness to this particular routine of his about a week after you moved in.

Sitting on the floor of your living room, right beside your own floor-to-ceiling windows, you had been arranging dried flowers when you glanced out the window and locked eyes.

Cool and collected, the man had slightly nodded his head while raising his glass up at you before taking a sip.

Smiling bashfully in return, you had quickly averted your gaze back to your art project.

The night continued on with you sneaking peeks at the man while he openly watched you - or so it seemed.

Once you had casted your flower arrangement in resin some hours later, you called it a night, leaving him a dark apartment to stare into.

He never altered his routine in the nights that followed, despite your well-lit apartment almost always glaring back at him as you crafted.

Three nights after that brief interaction, when your resin had finally finished setting, you hesitated for only a moment before holding it up under the bright light of your floor lamp, displaying your latest art piece for the man.

It was much better up close of course, but still nice at a distance.

The man had smirked before mouthing one word - “Pretty”.

You’ll never forget how much the compliment warmed you.

After that, your nights naturally fell into rhythm with his. He drank, you created. He watched, you didn’t mind.

But then there were Friday nights. A deviation from his routine.

On Friday nights he draws thick curtains over his windows, sending you a wink if he catches your curious stare, making your skin flush.

You know it’s silly to be so intrigued by his display of privacy. If anything, you should be wondering why those curtains don’t close more often, especially after all these months.

I guess we all have our secrets.

Stretching up, you spare a glance out the living room window and find nothing but a sea of curtains and blinds.

The clock has struck one minute past midnight, taking you into Saturday morning, and your aching lower back agrees that it’s time for bed.

Rising from the floor, you walk around your apartment and turn off all the lights until there’s only a soft glow coming from your bedroom.

You’re crossing your living room when light suddenly spills in.

Turning to the source, you look back out your windows to see a curtain at his apartment has been pulled open.

Intrigued, you take a step closer just as a male you don’t recognise slams against the window in the man’s apartment, pounding on the glass.

Fear trickles down your spine as you watch the stranger yell words you can’t hear before a hand appears on top of his head.

The hand closes around his hair and shoves his head into the window before tilting it back, exposing the stranger’s throat to the glinting knife that slices it.

Your mouth falls open, eyes watering in terror as blood splatters over the glass.

The stranger crumbles to the floor, dead.

When you manage to tear your gaze away from the lifeless body, it lands on him.

You don’t think, you just run.

Slamming your bedroom door shut, you flick off the light - as if the darkness can hide you from what you’ve witnessed, and back yourself into the furthest corner of the room.

It’s not until your knees give out and send you to the ground that you realise you’re trembling.

He just… killed that man.

He killed him.

Maybe an hour or a minute passes, but eventually the shock subsides enough for you to form one clear thought.

I need to call the police.

You’re about to pull yourself up when you hear the unmistakable sound of your apartment door closing.

Your locked apartment door.

No, no, no, no, no -

Scampering across the floor, you crawl underneath your bed.

Where’s my phone?

Your stomach gives a sickening twist as you remember leaving it on the kitchen bench.

Heavy footsteps echo throughout your quiet apartment, gradually growing louder as the intruder gets closer and closer to your room.

Covering your mouth with both hands, you plead with any higher power listening.

You can hear the handle being turned before the bedroom door clicks open and the light is flicked on.

“Angel.” A deep, rough voice calls out softly. “Don’t be scared.”

The smirk is evident in the man’s voice and it turns your blood cold.

It’s just a bad dream. This is all a bad dream.

Black leather shoes come to a stop inches from your face.

Sliding yourself as far back as you can, you watch as two pant covered knees appear next, followed by two large tattooed hands marked with blood.

Finally, his head lowers until two dark eyes meet yours.

“Are you going to come out, angel?” The man asks slowly, “Or am I gonna have to come and get you?”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers drabble #enforcer!steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #drabbles

302 notes · View notes

biteofcherry · 10 months

Text

to find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; power imbalance; forced relationship; D/s undertones; public humiliation; groping; dirty talk

I did warn you this Steve is dark 😜

word count: 4k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

5. Breaking ice

~ * ~

You’ve never been more annoyed with a sunny day and warm lightness filling your bones than you felt the day after the apothecary incident. Extra bounce to your step as the sun stroked your face and corners of your lips threatening to curl up irked you immensely.

Every other minute you tried to force yourself into a stormy mood.

Into an expected reaction to what has happened.

You faced direct danger, witnessed people being killed in cold blood, you were trapped in a relationship with a fucking mobster, who - on top of it all - screwed your body and mind in a most wicked, deranged way.

You shouldn’t be feeling cheery. That reaction was inadequate to the situation and to the moral norms you thought you possessed.

Either Rogers had that strong of an impact that you quickly bent to his dark whims, or the spine you thought you had always been a noodle not a steel rod.

How otherwise explain the fact repulsion at his manhandling transformed into thrill and arousal?

Last night, when you finally went to bed after taking a thorough scrubbing shower (and crunching a few cranberry pills to pray the UTI away), the images of being fucked with a gun resurfaced in a colorful burst.

The crystalline blue frozen in ice of Steve’s irises, the soft pink of his lips inches away from yours, the black of the gun against your floral dress.

It made you sticky instead of sick.

You had some knowledge of the psychological aspects to rough sex fantasies, or bdsm preferences, even consensual non-consent role play; but they all were considered normal when consented and previously explored.

You did not give Steve your verbal consent. Yet you didn’t exactly fight him. Convincing yourself it was because he had a gun and could kill you with it fell poorly since your pussy clenched at the memory of the barrel against your skin.

What has your life become - cranberry pills and getting wet from being violated.

You were angry, yes, but not at what you should be. Your annoyance with Rogers was peaking, but the true resentment wasn’t only toward his actions. It was directed at yourself for not being outraged by what happened.

When the next day at work Natalie asked you about the meeting, you gave her the short version - a trap being set up and Rogers coming to save you. The part about coming all over his gun was left unspoken.

You told yourself it’s to spare yourself further humiliation, but a part of you simply feared you’d get turned on thinking about it again.

Really, that should be a topic to pick at a therapy session, but you couldn’t do that either. You had enough common sense to know going to a psychotherapist was out of the question, not with the man who was about to become your husband. You couldn’t tell all the truth in a session (to not risk a therapist’s life) and going there only to lie and omit had no sense.

So you decided to channel everything onto the job.

Focusing on work meant not allowing your thoughts to roam around Steve fucking Rogers, as well not giving your body reasons to stir with arousal.

You caught up on paperwork, made a few phone calls - including those less important, just to occupy yourself; you visited the new speech therapist in their office. Being busy enhanced the sense of lightness, which you preferred to read as having no space to overthink and stress, instead of wondering if getting debauched was the sole cause of your serenity.

However, the lull of denial burst the moment Natalie came into your office with lunch.

Lunch you didn’t order, and a couple trailing behind her with creepily bright smiles on their faces.

“Miss Leigh Parrish and Mister Elias Asher are here for you.” Natalie informed you, professional as always, though you noticed the barely constrained eye roll. “And they brought you lunch, apparently.”

“What?” You looked at the set of neat three boxes with delicious looking food then at Natalie and at the pair behind her.

The two walked in with confidence, as if they were about to take over your office. The woman, Leigh, had a pad in her hand and a huge binder under her other arm. The man held some small kind of measure tape and a little blue notebook.

If they were some new donors, or a company who wanted to start a program with your health center, they sure were the very first to start negotiations this way. Usually you were invited to lunch, not have it brought. People meeting you were also more reserved and polite, instead of barging in with some wacky energy.

“Lunch is from Mister Rogers, we’re just delivering since we were going to be here anyway,” said Leigh, her toothpaste-commercial grin not changing for a second.

Instantly your mood dropped, your eyebrows creasing into a hostile frown.

“And why are you here?” Your tone remained calm, but you made sure displeasure in it was audible.

Steve randomly buying you lunch was a worrying problem you stored to resolve later; though you had a feeling he wouldn’t care that these nice gestures annoyed you, as they clashed with the picture of a ruthless mobster you were adamant on hating forever.

The two cheery people coming in unannounced - at the direction of Steve, undoubtedly - became the aim of your irritation and distrust.

“To help you plan your wedding, of course.” They both beamed in unison and you almost groaned at how overtly sweet the woman’s tone has become.

“Mr Rogers mentioned you’re fighting nerves, which is absolutely understandable,” Leigh cooed and your fingers twitched, ready to reach for something to throw it at her. “Planning a wedding can be stressful, especially an impromptu one. But that’s why I’m here! I’m the best wedding planner in the city and I’ll make sure it surpasses all your dreams.”

Your reluctance toward the wedding wasn’t something you hid from Rogers. Quite the opposite, you announced it any chance you had; within limits of reason, to avoid being disposed of.

Him sending in an actual wedding planner was a move you did not expect. At all.

You’d sooner anticipate him dragging you in your pajamas in front of a forced registrar to get it over with.

Ah, but that would be too easy. Not enough torment for you. Not enough room for you to show how obedient of a wife you’d be.

We both know you will be a good girl for me, Princess, his voice resounded in your head, a decadent richness that softened your limbs for a split of a second before your resistance kicked in.

Having you organize the wedding, or at least actively participate in it, was a lesson - that you would follow his orders even if you hated them.

“The best wedding planner in the city has a free slot to organize a wedding in a month?” You arched a single eyebrow, studying the woman. “What skeletons are in your closet that my fiance managed to blackmail you?”

You didn’t doubt she was one of the best, but those had their schedules booked for three years in advance. To have her clear it for you meant there was more than just money at stake for Miss Leigh Parrish.

Her smile faltered for a second, but she regained her composure fast. She ignored your question, walking instead toward your desk and placing her huge binder on it.

“Since we have the venue covered, with Mr Rogers estate being more than enough to host the event,” she went on, “there are only details to talk over. Let’s start with the wedding rings, so that Elias can begin working on them right away.”

Her companion stepped forward. The tiny measuring tape in his hand now made sense, as it apparently was to measure the circumference of your finger to match a ring size.

“Let’s start-” you interrupted, pushing your chair back- “with you leaving my office.”

Interesting how you managed to maintain your poised self, professionally cool as you delivered the polite fuck you, while that composure quickly dissolved around Rogers.

You kinda stepped on eggshells around him at first (and still, sensing when the crossing line was too near), but then his demands lit your fuse. Somehow you dared to stomp your foot, be loud in your outbursts and acts of rebellion. And it wasn’t because Steve provided safe space, oh no. He was far from safe.

“What?” The man blinked, confused, while his friend blanched.

“We have to get it done. As soon as possible.” Still trying to sound sweet and soft, Leigh made the mistake of allowing a tremble to shake her voice.

“Then get it done, I don’t really care.” You shrugged.

It was the truth. You didn’t care for the ceremony at all.

You had a brief thought about hating it, if it was some overused boho or retro theme in a barn, but then again you would hate it anyway, since you didn’t want to marry Steve. Besides, it could be funny to see his face if someone told him to wear suspenders and a flat cap for aesthetics.

“You, um, you don’t want to participate in preparations for your own wedding?” Leigh frowned, utterly surprised. “Not even pick a dress?”

“I can wear a t-shirt and flip-flops for all I care.” You probably wouldn’t go that far, but you really didn’t care.

If Rogers didn’t order you to wear a wedding dress, you’d do it anyway just to please your parents who were going to be completely oblivious to the truth behind your speedy wedding. You preferred to keep it that way, playing someone so dumbly in love she was ready to marry a few weeks after meeting the guy. You didn’t want to worry your parents.

Natalie snorted at your words, for the very first time so openly showing amusement. She even grinned when you glared at her, then turned on her heel and walked outside.

“The, um, the wedding rings?” Elias cleared his throat.

“Barbed wire would be fitting,” you snorted under your breath, but he didn’t seem to hear it. You suspected he might’ve fainted if he did.

“Whatever Mister Rogers wishes,” you shrugged. “As a matter of fact, why don't you go and consult with him?”

To underline that you were done with this whole shit-show, you opened one of the lunchboxes and dug a fork into it. You didn’t lift up your eyes from the delicious food until you heard the door closing.

You ate your lunch while idly browsing the internet, just to get your thoughts off the wedding completely. It was approaching with each passing day and you preferred not to accept the fact.

Though you weren’t sure denial would work once there was an actual ring on your finger.

It seemed it wouldn’t work even before that, because not a half hour after you dismissed the wedding planner the door to your office opened with impetus.

Steve strode inside, a force of a thousand storms contained in a man’s body.

His heavy boots and the hem of his tight jeans seemed to be freshly stained with something wet and dark. The rest of him was perfectly clean, not a smudge of dirt on his hands. You tried not to think of blood splashing on his shoes and legs as a lifeless victim fell at Steve's feet.

You definitely tried to ignore a wave of heat that washed over you at the thought.

You forced your eyes to stay on the devil’s angelic face, drowning in the hues of blue, so that your gaze wouldn’t slide across Steve’s body in search of a gun holster.

“Princess.” Steve sighed, but there was an undertone of amusement in his voice.

He walked toward you with purposeful steps; his mass seemingly changing the gravity inside your office, so that all light fractured to disappear in his approaching darkness.

Or maybe it was your attention discarding anything in your peripheral to focus on him, as if he was the center of your world.

You abruptly stood up and shuffled back instinctively, bumping into a bureau. Steve caged you against it, blocking any route of escape with his arms on both sides of you. It was only then that you tilted your chin up, tapping into the remnants of your steel defiance.

“Why am I hearing that you’re scaring off the wedding team?” Steve tilted his head to the side and chuckled. “They’re here to take the planning burden off your shoulders, so that you can focus on your work. And your future role…”

You swore that if he said anything about wifely duties, you’d kick him.

“I told them they can plan whatever they want. As long as they do it far away from me,” your mocking sweet smile combined with your sneer.

Perhaps your tone provoked it, or maybe a challenging fire in your eyes, but Steve’s lips curved into a wolfish grin.

“Oh, Princess,” he cooed, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, “look at your cute yip, yet there’s no real bite to it.”

It was very dangerous to do anything to antagonize Rogers, especially when he was this close and could snap your neck with his bare hands, but you acted before a reasonable thought settled in.

You opened your mouth and caught his thumb between your teeth, clenching your jaw enough to cause pain, but not drawing blood.

Steve’s eyes hardened, the blue of his irises darkening. Time froze for a split second; you could almost hear the ice cracking beneath your feet and the murky depths awaiting to swallow your dead body.

Suddenly your eyes widened, when instead of backhanding you, Steve pushed his thumb further between your lips.

Your teeth released their grip, his digit easing into your mouth and pressing against your tongue. Saliva pooled around it and you instinctively hollowed your cheeks.

Twisted satisfaction igniting in his eyes and the subtle thrust of his thumb along your tongue stirred you from stupor. Scorching shame filled you to the roots, though you hoped it didn’t show.

You pulled back, turning your face away from Steve as you swallowed remnants of his taste. He tilted your chin with his wet thumb, forcing you to look him in the eye again. What the fuck was with this man and maintaining eye contact?

“Let’s get it over with, shall we?” He smoothed a hand down your arm and wrapped his fingers around your wrists.

Next thing you knew Steve was calling for Elias Asher, as he stretched your arm out; thumb pressing into your palm to make your fingers stretch.

Elias stumbled inside and almost tripped over his own feet at the sight the two of you displayed - you pressed against the bureau with Rogers’ intimidating size looming over you, your hand offered on a silver platter.

“You mentioned you need measurements for the ring size,” Steve intoned conversationally, “do what you must.”

You glared daggers at Steve, which he accepted unbothered. The jeweler’s fingers didn’t shake as he wrapped a small measuring tape around your finger and wrote down the result in his notebook. However, all the while he was staring either at your finger or his notes, never up at either of you.

That way it was easier to pretend the scene before him wasn’t close to intimate, or that he didn’t suspect you were being forced into marriage.

“What type of metal?” His voice wavered slightly.

“White gold,” came Steve’s decided reply.

Something told you that while he was giving you free will to organize the wedding however you liked, Steve had already chosen how your permanent shackle looks like.

You peeked at his hand, gaze sliding across the rings adorning his thick fingers. You noticed there was none on the finger on which a wedding band is worn. He was going to make sure that your rings matched the set he was already wearing.

“Pure and fierce, like my fiancée.” Steve added, with a mocking tilt.

“And the cut?” Elias scribbled down, not lifting his eyes at either of you even once.

Steve’s eyes sparked mischievously. His right hand moved up your thigh, squeezing your thick flesh through the fabric of your skirt.

“Cushion?” Steve mused aloud.

Then his touch moved upwards, along your ribcage and ghosting over the swell of your breast.

“Round?” He cupped your tit indecently, causing you to gasp in outrage that he dared to do it in front of someone.

That he dared to do it at all!

“No. We know which suits you best, right?” Steve’s hand ventured north, brushing your collarbone before his fingers curled around the front of your neck.

“A princess cut.”

Ringed fingers wrapped around your throat loosely, but it was a firm enough gesture to boil your blood and weaken your knees.

You couldn’t blame it on the fear of being strangled, because not a single thought about it entered your mind when Steve did that. Neither when he did it the first time, in his kitchen, nor now.

What you thought about was the power he spread over you and how it melted your resolve into an obedient puddle. Against all reason.

Unable to look away from Steve, you didn’t notice the jeweler leaving your office in a hurry, undoubtedly ready to drink away what he tried not to witness. You didn’t even hear the door close, your ears were filled with the sound of your own heart pounding in a quickened rhythm as Steve’s hold on you continued.

Slowly (it seemed reluctant, too), Steve loosened his grip. He didn’t move it away, though, shifting it only slightly, so his hand splayed like a necklace above your sternum.

You took a shaky breath in, cogs in your brain starting to turn anew.

“Why can’t we just sign the papers without this wedding party fuss?” You asked quietly, gaze shifting from Steve’s hold on your hand to his face.

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before he let go of it and took a step away from you. He swiped a hand over his mouth then gave you a blank, almost condescending look.

“Because I need everyone convinced I’m here after your cute ass, Princess. Blind with love or lust, or whatever people want to believe in,” he winked at you, as if you were supposed to agree with his cynical assessment.

You thought quite the opposite. That no one sane would believe Steve Fucking Rogers was interested in you.

“Who would even believe that?” You snorted, frowning.

It wasn’t about insecurities of any kind; you were mildly confident both in your looks and your worth. However, men like Rogers didn’t even circle around women of your kind.

Men of power; men who rode the thin line of morality, mostly treading through the dark side; they went for women who craved such things. Women who suited that lifestyle. Women rotten at the core, or greedy (whether for wealth, or for power and influence). Or at least for women who looked really fucking good on their arms, like models and escorts.

No one, none of Steve’s rivals surely, would believe that he was simply courting you. You beside him made zero sense.

Steve laughed. Actually laughed. A warm, sparkling burst of amusement that made his handsome face gain impossible boyish charm.

“That a man got addicted to a sweet pussy?” He looked down at you, still grinning. But that grin transformed into a sly curve.

“Everyone, Princess.” He leaned closer, again; voice nearly purring as his lips brushed your cheek. “I can assure you that even at this moment they’re thinking I’m balls deep inside you.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that rocked your body. Judging by the way Steve’s eyes dragged down and up your frame, he noticed your reaction.

“I’m kinda thinking about it, too.” He licked his lips, drawing your hungry attention to them.

But the ire at his crude words snapped you out of daze. Your fingers curled in a fist and you pounded it against Steve’s chest when he pressed his weight into you.

“In your dreams!” You hissed.

Your small fist made no real impact against Steve’s hard chest. It didn’t deter him and it seemed he didn’t even feel any pain from the hit.

His hands returned to your body, boldly gripping your hips and holding you in place as he licked along your jaw. He flicked your earlobe with his tongue - a lewd tease that should disgust you, but instead made your pussy tingle.

“I’m dreaming of our wedding night.” Steve whispered before pulling away with a low chuckle at your wheeze.

“There will be no wedding night!” You pounded two of your fists against his chest. Futilely.

Steve regarded you with a look one may give to a small kitten trying to appear intimidating toward a wolf fifty times its size.

“I’ll make you a deal, Princess,” he tucked both thumbs beneath the hem of your blouse, his touch nearly scorching against your skin.

“On our wedding night, if I touch your sweet pussy and it’s dry, I’ll let you pick a bedroom for your own. So you can live in solitude, unbothered by my presence.” He sounded sincere, like it was a business deal he was really willing to propose.

Then his hips were pressing against yours, bulge in his pants prominent as he rocked it into you. Steve’s eyes flashed a dark gleam; his sensual lips parting enough to reveal a row of sharp teeth ready to take a hefty bite.

“But if I find your cunt leaking, as I know it is now-” his deep growl resonated straight to your clit.

“I’ll take a pound of flesh. And I’ll be taking you over and over and over again, until you lose your voice from screaming my name.”

You clutched at his shirt where your hands rested on his chest. You wanted to be able to shove him away, to punch away the beam of smug victory off Steve’s face. Reasonably, you knew you couldn’t do that without serious repercussions happening.

You were also too busy with the inner battle, fighting some fucked up, primal need to have Steve do to you exactly what he threatened.

The bastard was unfortunately right, you were soaked. Something you’d never admit to him.

Even if he pushed his big hand up your skirt and dipped his fingers straight into your dripping cunt, you’d deny it to his face. You’d deny it to yourself. Forever.

Thankfully, Rogers didn’t push further. He seemed satisfied with his stupid bet and that you didn’t fight back (even if you kept your mouth closed in fear of releasing a whimper). Steve let go of you, only lifting one hand to cup your chin.

“Now be good, Princess,” he commanded. “I don’t have time to deal with hysterical wedding planners.”

You grimaced - eyebrows drawing in a frown, nose scrunching up. You weren’t interested in dealing with wedding planning either, but you were aware Steve considered the topic closed. If you reopened it, he might do more than just bend you into obedience in front of a stranger.

“Then why did you come here?” You asked instead.

“I came for my distressed fiancée,” Steve’s grin was cheeky as he used his grip on your chin to slightly shake your head.

He squeezed a tad tighter and when your lips puckered he pecked them.

“You’ll get a big girl kiss when you start acting like one,” he added at your indignant glare.

Then released you and simply turned around to leave. You cursed him and called him names in your head. You prayed that one day you’ll get reckless enough to throw something at him, consequences be damned. For now, you still liked to be alive.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers #dark mafia!steve rogers #dark mafia!steve rogers x reader #dark mafia!steve rogers x female reader #dark steve rogers #touch the darkness #my writing

630 notes · View notes

justagirlinafandomworld · 10 months

Text

June was buuuuuuusssyyyy, I'm still recovering. While I didn't get to read as much as I would have liked, I'm still very thankful for all you wonderful writers for being here, for providing all this great content. My life would suck without you.

Please show some love to your fav stories! I think I've collected quite the variety for you to peruse.

Happy Reading!

2023 reading list | fic rec masterlist

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

Marvel

Picking Up The Pieces by @gogolucky13 Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers x Female Reader (briefly) Summary: Bucky chooses to stay in his tumultuous relationship knowing you’ll be there to pick up the pieces, until finally you’re not. [Modern AU] 3 Parts. Warnings: Angst. Cheating. Smut (not explicit). Swearing. Mentions of alcohol. (18+ only please).

To Have and to Hold Chapters 4 & 5 by @indyluckycharlie Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU Chapter 4 Summary: "She wore a thousand faces, all to hide her own" -atticus Chapter 4 Warnings: Dark themes Minors DNI. Also, if you ended up here by accident and haven't read the previous parts, go back! Angst, angst, angst (tra-la-la) Threats of and allusions to violence. Abusive and controlling behavior. Forced relationship. Light nonconsensual touching. Coercion. Hints at cheating that isn't really cheating. Swearing.

The Animal Within by @navybrat817 Shifter!Bucky Barnes x Shifter!Female Reader Summary: Bucky can't help but follow you when you go through his territory. Warnings: Shifters, flirting, background character death, mention of blood, slight possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

Bound to You by @flordeamatista dark mob Bucky Barnes x Stewardess Reader concept: Like clouds dancing in the air giving the setting sun a reason to live, that is how you came into his life. warnings: possessive Bucky, dark Bucky, dub—con/non—con, kidnapp—ing, drug—ing, desire,lust, p— in-—v, mile high club, man—ipulation — d-ubcon/non—con, mature themes, edging, fing—ering, nickname ──(Princess, Sweetheart)

Through These Crazy Times by @girl-next-door-writes Clint Barton x Reader Summary: You and Clint have been keeping your new relationship a secret from the rest of the team, but a slip up leads to Clint deciding he doesn’t want to hide any more. Warnings: Fluff, otherwise none provided

Supernatural

Not Moving by @lost-between-letters Sam Winchester x Reader (she/her) Summary: Sam doesn't want to move. Warnings: death, angst.

Go Easy by @negans-lucille-tblr Sam Winchester x Y/N Summary: Sam’s hiding a part of himself from his new, inexperienced girlfriend, but maybe he doesn’t have to. Warnings: teasing, flirting, mentions of virginity, mentions of liking younger women, angst, mentions of BDSM, Dom/sub vibes, mild BDSM, bondage, fingering, p in v

Waiting For A Love Like This by @girl-next-door-writes Sam Winchester x Reader Summary: Sam has been in love with his best friend for so long that loving them is like breathing. He has successfully kept the depth of his feelings hidden, but there’s only so long you can hold back those three words before they find a way to escape. Warnings: none provided.

Yours to Hold by @princessmisery666 Dean Winchester x Unnamed Female Summary: Dean lives in a fantasy that isn’t that far from the truth. Warnings: angst.

Love Misunderstood by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior Dean Winchester x Y/N Summary: The moment came and went so fast, but Y/N has regretted it ever since. Warnings: None really. Brief mention of sexy times. Angst.

His Omega by @negans-lucille-tblr Wincest Anon Prompt: Sam and Dean are getting ‘married’ in a private ceremony of friends and family that involves Sam publicly claiming Dean BUT, dun Dun DUN - Becky wedding crashes by dropping through the ceiling while Sam is about to fuck Dean and she falls on his dick instead and Sam is bound to her 😳😳😳 finger gunsWarnings: fluff, alpha!Sam, omega!Dean, A/B/O, public claiming, mentions of public sex, sex, mentions of anal, that bitch Becky

Other Characters

Offer by @softlyspector Din Djarin x Gender Neutral Reader Summary: Din is absolutely sure that you know that he’s courting you. He wants to makes the offer formally anyways. Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, Din thinking he's being so obvious while not showing a single emotion, self doubt and insecurity (Din), lil angst, probably incorrect lore, fluff, Mando'a (translations at the end)

A Sweeter Place by @flordeamatista Neighbor!Joel Miller x Reader concept: The world dims when our lips meet, our hearts beat faster, and time stands still. warnings: poetic loving in the sunshine morning, kitchen table s-mut, finger-ing (tiny of cum play) ,pure poetic fluff, soft kisses, o-ral (r receiving), nickname ──(Sugar, dirty girl,)

History Repeats Itself by @hoboal87 Unnamed Male Alpha x Female Omega Reader Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, mentions of / implied sex and knotting, implied unprotected sex, angst, ambiguous ending

This Hope in My Heart by @princessmisery666 Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader Summary: Sometimes having hope can hurt, but in the end it all works out. Warnings: slight angst, fluffy fluff.

RPF

Please Don't Leave by @princessmisery666 Jensen Ackles x Reader Summary: Friends to lovers to friends, that can work, right? Warnings: angst, fluff, Jensen in his thicc Soldier Boy era (that’s a warning in itself!)

#just a girl reading fics in june 2023 #bucky barnes x reader #clint barton x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #din djarin x reader #joel miller x reader #robert floyd x reader #jensen ackles x reader

65 notes · View notes

sarahowritesostucky · 3 months

Text

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 1 The Dragon

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Mature

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 1103

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

“Да. Good. Make sure she stays that way. Now, tell me everything.” Bucky listens to his henchman’s answer, pissed in general but only getting truly angry when he hears one specific detail. “She was with who?! Ублюдок!!” He takes the phone away from his face for a second as he curses in three different languages. Fucking Gleb. He fucking knew it. He’s going to cut his fucking dick off! When he brings the phone back up to his face, all he utters is a deathly quiet, “We’re in the Dragon’s Den. Get them here. Both of them.” He ends the call.

The gun at Bucky’s back has stopped buzzing. Funny, how it’s the sudden lack of pain that makes goosebumps rise to his skin. “Boss?” Natasha asks.

Bucky’s eyes flick over to Steve, who’s sitting next to the Karpovs on the couch. One moment of intense eye contact between the two of them, and Steve’s face goes wan in recognition. Tight-lipped, Bucky gives an almost imperceptible nod of confirmation. Steve squares his shoulders and pushes up to standing to go over to the bar. The guy has an almost preternatural ability to predict Bucky’s wants and needs, which is one reason why he’s risen through the ranks so fast (well, it's one, leastways). He artfully flips a lowball, knowing what this situation calls for without having to be told; ice and two fingers of the Russo-Baltique that’s so expensive, Bucky once stabbed a guy’s hand into a table for drinking it without permission.

Steve delivers the glass and retreats to stand sentinel along the wall. Bucky sips, sets it down, growls and grabs it up again. He rolls the liquor in his mouth as he fumes, a dark plan starting to form in his head. It comes together quickly, because it’s not like he hasn’t spent plenty of time fantasizing about it before now. What he’d do when he finally got her back.

His little one is tenacious and likes to make trouble. She has a penchant for running away, but she’s never lasted this long before. It’s been over ten months—long enough to put the fear of God in Bucky that he could actually lose her for good, if he isn’t more careful. So, he has to be careful, has to make a statement, send a message. He has to make it stick.

Luckily, when it comes to “sending messages,” Bucky Barnes can be very creative. Like tattooing, torture is an oft underappreciated artform. “Dimi,” he barks. “I’m expecting some special guests tonight. Go and sort things out downstairs. I want the place packed by ten—Make sure it’s with the right people.”

“Boss?” Lev pipes up, confused. He’s Karpov’s kid brother: new, inexperienced but eager, still “earning his scales,” as the boys like to say.

Dimitri jerks his head for his brother to follow him. “Boss wants a demonstration. C’mon.” He’s already got his phone out as they leave the room to get things arranged. Bucky’s “demonstrations” usually require plastic sheeting and a crowd of people who are either Hydra themselves, or else educated enough to know to keep their mouths shut about Bratva business.

“Where’d they find her?” Steve asks.

Bucky scoffs, still fuming. “Floating off the coast of Belize. On my own fucking yacht. Can you even believe that?”

“Sounds like her.”

“Lena?” Nat hums. “Who’d you send?”

“Maximoff and Belova have her.” Bucky grits his teeth at the sting as Natasha uses a wet cloth to wipe off the excess blood and ink. He can feel her scrutinizing her work. “You can keep going,” he tells her, but she ‘tsks’ in that way that only a Russian tongue can really do.

“We’ll come back to it. Skin behaves differently when you’re not relaxed.”

“I’m am relaxed!” He hears how ridiculous he sounds and heaves a long sigh, trying to let his shoulders untense to at least somewhere below the level of his ears. “I’m relaxed.”

“Keep saying it and it might come true.” Nat rolls away on her stool, peeling off her gloves with finality. “Your blood pressure and vodka’ll push the ink out faster than I can stick it. Just come over to the Red Room once it’s done scabbing and we’ll finish it then.”

She’s already packing up her stuff when Bucky gets the idea. “Wait.” He narrows his eyes at the rolling toolkit that Nat keeps in the club’s upstairs lounge just for him and his men. “Do me a favor,” he says slowly, the idea taking shape in his mind. “Run down to the shop and print out a transfer for me. Cyrillic. A small font. Something pretty but … bold. Easy to read.”

Natasha tenses. “What do you want it to say?”

“собственность дракона.”

“No,” she says, and when Bucky looks over, she’s standing ramrod straight.

“Clearly, you disapprove.”

“I’m not inking it.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he snaps, low on patience tonight, even for Natasha. “Print it out on a goddamn transfer sheet and bring it to me.”

She’s doing that dead faced thing she does—where she goes still like a doll to avoid making some expression she doesn’t want you to see. Right now, Bucky suspects it might be sheer disdain. “Size?” she asks. “Shaping?”

“One line straight up the forearm. Delicate lettering, but clear as a fucking bell to read.”

“That still doesn’t tell me what spacing—”

“You know how big she is, you figure out the fucking spacing!” he yells. “Or what the fuck am I even paying you for?!”

Natasha goes eerily still, then abruptly pivots to leave, the severe line of her hair whipping around with the motion. She’s unhappy with him.

“Red ink!” Bucky calls out, the door slamming shut after her a millisecond later. He grinds his teeth together and stands up from the chair he’s been perched in for the past three hours, carrying his drink over to the mirrors so that he can get a better look at his back.

Scales, teeth, claws. Crouched and curling across his shoulders, tendrils creeping up onto his neck, marking him as what he is: Дракон.

The Dragon.

“Will you help me?” he asks Steve, quiet now that it’s just the two of them.

“Depends on what you want me to do.”

“It depends”—No other man in the Bratva could give such an answer and expect to remain in one piece. But Steve’s gaze is steadfast when Bucky meets it and tells him, “She’s gotten away with too much for too long. It’s time to shorten the leash.”

In the mirror, Steve’s eyes darken. He nods.