#mob steve rodgers x reader

[lvrdrafts]

Rescued by Love Part 1

★ Summary: Your brother Steve always hated you after your mother's death and when he finally gets the family's empire he is ready to sell you off to some toxic marriage but will the knight and shining armor save you or make it worse?

★ Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

★ Warnings: Arranged Marriage

★ Word Count: 2,000+

★ Genre: Angst/ Fluff

Masterlist

From the moment you took your first breath, you carried the weight of a past you didn't fully understand. It was a past overshadowed by the loss of your mother – a loss that your older brother, Steve, held against you.

As far back as you can remember, there was always a palpable tension in the air whenever you were around Steve. His eyes held a mixture of resentment and sorrow, a constant reminder of the day your mother's life slipped away while giving birth to you. A day that, in his eyes, marked the beginning of his own torment.

Your father, desperate to mend the frayed threads of your family, tried tirelessly to bridge the gap between you two. He believed that time and shared experiences could heal the wounds that festered beneath the surface. But no matter his efforts, Steve's heart remained encased in ice, his bitterness toward you seemingly unbreakable.

★

15 years later...

The air was alive with the beat of the music and the laughter among the people at the lively party. Steve and Bucky stood by the refreshments table, each holding a drink and engaged in a casual conversation

"So, have you talked to Sarah lately?" Bucky asked, leaning against the table. Steve shrugged, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Yeah, we caught up yesterday. She's doing okay, just busy with school and all."

Bucky chuckled, nudging Steve playfully. "You know, I think she's got a crush on you." Steve's cheeks flushed slightly, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, Bucky. We've been friends forever. It's not like that."

As they continued chatting, you stood at a distance, watching them with a mix of envy and loneliness. You'd always felt like an outsider, never quite fitting in with the crowd.

Seeing Steve and Bucky laughing together only accentuated your isolation. Summoning up your courage, you decided to approach them. You took a deep breath and walked over, hoping to join the conversation and maybe finally feel like you belonged somewhere.

"Hey, guys," you greeted softly, a small smile on your face. Steve and Bucky turned their attention toward you, their expressions changing ever so slightly. Steve's smile faded, and his brows furrowed as if he was annoyed by your presence. Bucky knew how this would end and a part of him felt bad.

"What do you want?" Steve snapped, you'd heard that tone so many times. But still, you were taken aback by his sharpness, and you stumbled over your words.

"I just thought... I mean, I don't really know anyone here, no one really wants to talk to me... and I thought maybe I could join you guys."

Bucky shot Steve a sidelong glance, his eyes silently questioning the change in his friend's demeanor. Steve's lips twisted into a bitter smile.

"We're not in the mood for your company. Just go find someone else to annoy." Bucky shot Steve a look, clearly taken aback by his friend's harsh tone. "Steve, come on."

Ignoring Bucky's protest, you felt a lump forming in your throat. "Please I promise I won't bother you and-and I—"

Cutting you off, Steve's frustration boiled over. "Well, maybe you should've thought twice before showing up. People like you shouldn't be at parties like this."

Your heart plummeted, a mix of hurt and humiliation washing over you. Swallowing hard, you turned and hurriedly walked away, tears stinging your eyes. You found a quiet corner where you could be alone and tried to hide your face as you wiped away your tears.

As you huddled there, Bucky's voice reached your ears. "Was that really necessary, Steve?" Steve's response was cold and unapologetic.

"Yeah, it was. She's always been nothing but trouble, if it wasn't for her I would have still had my mother."

Bucky sighed, a mixture of disappointment and frustration in his voice. "You still didn't have to be so harsh. She's just a kid who wants some friends. You don't have to be an ass about it."

Steve shrugged, a stubborn set to his jaw. "She needs to know her place."

★

7 years later...

The corridors of the mansion stretched out before you, each step echoing the weight of my uncertainty. Ever since your father had succumbed to Alzheimer's and the grip of illness, Steve had ascended as the new head of your family's sprawling mafia empire.

It was a shift that had altered the dynamics of your life in ways you couldn't have imagined. With hesitant determination, you made my way toward Steve's office, a heaviness in my chest that seemed to grow with each passing moment.

Even if he didn't love you, you were still determined to try even if it would take a million years so like every day you brought him lunch even though you knew he was probably going to reject it.

As you approached the slightly afar door, fragments of conversation reached my ears, stealing my breath away. "...marrying her off to Jason Storm," Steve's voice cut through the air, a sentence that hit like a sledgehammer to your heart.

Jason Storm – a name that carried a reputation that curdled your stomach. A man who was known for his cruelty, a vicious cycle of abusing his wives. The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning – your life, your choices, was being manipulated for the sake of getting rid of you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stumbled away from the door, your world crumbling around you. The bitterness of the truth tasted like betrayal, a sharp reminder that in this world of shadows and secrets, your well-being mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

You found yourself outside, the cool air doing little to quell the turmoil within you. The weight of your emotions was suffocating, and the façade you had tried to maintain for so long was crumbling. Your sobs echoed through the empty corridor as you leaned against the wall, your heart aching for the love and compassion you had always hoped to find within your own family.

Amidst the darkness of my despair, a voice cut through the haze – a voice you recognized as James Barnes, a name that held a sense of familiarity and warmth. "You can't do this, Steve." Bucky's words were fierce, laden with conviction.

His presence was a surprise, a glimmer of hope in the darkness that had enveloped you. You wiped your tears away as you listened intently, your heart pounding in your chest. "Why not?" Steve's voice was tinged with a coldness that had become all too familiar. "Because it's wrong, Steve. You can't marry her off to a man like Jason Storm. You know what he does to his wives,"

Bucky's words were like a lifeline, a lifeline that you had never expected to find. Steve's retort was sharp, but Bucky's resolve didn't waver. "You want to marry her, then?" At that moment, you felt a spark of something deep within you, a flicker of hope that perhaps someone was willing to stand up for you, to see you as more than just a pawn in a dangerous game.

Bucky's voice held a determination that cut through the tension. "No, that's not what I meant." And then the words that would change everything hung in the air – words that carried a mix of motives that I couldn't fully comprehend.

"Actually, I will," Bucky declared. But in Bucky's heart, he didn't want to marry you, but marrying you would be a disguise for his parents to stop nagging him while he was off with whores.

As the weight of the conversation continued to hang heavy in the air, the office door swung open, revealing Steve and Bucky. You sat there, tears glistening in your eyes, vulnerable in your moment of despair. Steve's scowl deepened as his eyes met yours, and without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving you to wrestle with your emotions alone. Bucky; however, spared you a quick smile before quickly following Steve.

#bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader fluff #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x reader angst #steve rodgers sister x bucky #steve rodgers reader x bucky #mob steve rodgers #mob steve rodgers x reader

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

RELIGION- S.G ROGERS

Pairing: Normad! Steve Rogers x Innocent/ Virgin! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Steve’s prayers have finally been answered after all these years, as he finds you waiting for him in the church he calls home. Captivated by him and his charm, you get swept up in his arms, to soon find out Steve isn't the saint he painted himself out to be. 

Warnings: SMUT, HEAVY daddy kink, HEAVY innocence/ corruption kink, breeding kink, petnames, degradation kink, heavy praise kink, dumbification kink, finger sucking, teasing, masturbation mentioned,almost like training in a way?, cumplay and gagging implied, blowjob implied, smoking, steve is kinda soft!dark here

Notes:��“ cause you’re my religion, you’re how im livin... when all my friends say i should take some space...well i cant envision that for a minute- when im down on my knees you’re how i pray” - religion, lana del rey

the chapel: a playlist

Steve had not expected to see an angel at the end of the isle, when he stepped through the gleaming oak doors. 

He had been to this church many times in his life, its worn wooden pews and golden crosses familiar to him like the back of his own hand. He had sat in those very pews that lay in rows, no other person around to bother him as he would stare up at the marble statue by the organ, or with his head between his hands as he stared at the rustic floor that so many others had walked before him. 

But he had never seen an angel, contained in these walls. 

Steve wasn't an overly religious man. But he had needed something- anything to believe in with the insanity that had managed to slither its way into his life, a snake with venom so poisonous he had found his way here again.

 It appears he had found something new, something else to believe in, he thought, watching your little frame stand at the end of the deep plush carpet that had guided his way towards you. 

The sunlight that filtered in through the stained glass windows shimmered around you like a halo, lighting up your features like the diamonds. It was mesmerizing, the way it shinned down upon you, focusing on you like a spotlight. 

Moving with you, as you tilted your head back, soaking in the dimmed rays that made their way through the images plastered on the glass. 

You looked up at the lanterns that hung upon chains from the high arched ceilings, the wooden beams their support as they flickered. 

“It’s beautiful, isn't it?” you hummed softly, feeling a presence near you, his aura dark and mysterious. 

Enchanting. 

Steve had found his way next to you, arm close enough to touch, warm body heat rolling off him in waves to wrap around your skin, soothing the goosebumps that had broken out across your arms. 

Steve was fixated on you- truly. 

Your voice had sounded like the sweet strings of a harp, being strummed in perfect harmony. He had wanted more. 

“It is.” he spoke softly, voice husky as he stared down at you. 

He didn't know you were talking about the marble statue that adorned the dais, arms reaching up towards heaven, as if that would save him from the tears that spilled across his pained face. 

Steve was talking about you. 

You turned, little white dress brushing against his thigh as you smiled. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you, your eyes twinkling like stars in the night, smile showing your little dimples in the hazy light. You were better than he had ever imagined, a sweet, innocent soul. 

One he wanted to corrupt. 

“ He looks in pain, in a way. Or sad. But it’s beautiful, when people cry.” you sighed, looking up at Steve in wonder. As if he was the angel who had flown in, had come and saved the day. 

“We’re all in pain, are we not? But many of us shape that pain into beauty.” he nodded, hand reaching up to wrap a finger around a stray curl that had draped across your cheekbone. 

You leaned into his gentle touch, though his hands were calloused. His hands were beautiful, as you could tell they had been in pain. They had carried weights they shouldn't have had to carry. You felt safe with Steve, despite his dark demeanour. 

He was soft with you. Gentle. 

“What’s your name?” he whispered, as if he was unsure if he should be asking. “Y/N.” you smiled, glancing back over to the altars, peering at the candles that continued to burn, wax dripping and spilling onto the tables. “I’m Steve.” 

A pretty name, for a pretty man… you thought. 

You had to focus on something, anything else but those blue orbs that threatened to swallow you whole. Or you’d drown. And you weren't so sure you’d want to be saved. 

“I’ve never seen you around before, angel.” 

Angel.

The name alone was enough to send shivers down your spine, despite the mugginess of the dry summer heat. “ The door was closed. I opened it. Now I’m here.” 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now I’m here. 

Those words rang through his head like the bell in the tower, striking at six. Twelve. Nine. Then six again. 

Somehow, through the endless amounts of prayers he had whispered to the universe, to the gods and goddesses, you had appeared. He had begged for salvation. 

You, it seemed, were just that. 

Steve saw you each time he slid through those old rustic wooden doors, standing in front of that very statue, by the burning candles and crosses. 

Almost as if you were waiting for him. 

It was never on a Sunday, but a Wednesday, an empty chapel day. The day of expression, and communication. Steve often would slide up behind you, as he did the very first meeting, intertwining your hand with his with a gentle squeeze. 

Some days he would tug you along, sliding into a pew with you to hold you closer, or he’d take you through the back way- to the overgrown gardens. Other days, it was the two of you staring at the stained glass, or the statues, in silence. 

You liked both days. You liked any days you could be with Steve. 

“You know I’m not even religious?” you had told him one day, stretching your legs in front of you from your seat on the wooden bench, flexing your feet. He had just raised his eyebrow. “Why were you here then angel?” Steve had asked as you toyed with his shirt. 

“I was following a little white cat, but he left before I could pick him up. He led me here. Then you showed up, so I stayed.” 

Steve had liked that answer. He had liked it a whole lot. 

Wednesday meetings had turned into Wednesday and Friday meetings. Then Saturday. Then Sunday. 

Those meetings had changed from the church’s grounds to little cafes and parks, old Hollywood cinemas and roller rinks. Those “meetings” had turned into dates. 

And one of the dates turned into Steve sweeping you up in his arms under the pale moonlight, pouring his very heart and soul into a kiss that left you dizzy. 

Now the two of you were here. 

Here, on his bed, the golden sunlight streaming down on Steve in rays, like they did in the chapel- showcasing the strands of rich honey in his beard. You were sleeping soundly on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing as he propped up against the headboard, petting your hair lovingly. 

Even in sleep, you clutched to him tightly, as if you were scared he’d leave you.

 Steve learned very early that your love language was touch. Innocent touches. 

Everything about you was innocent. 

You were attached to him at the hip, always holding him in some manner, or tending to him, whether that was playing with his hair or kissing his neck, leaving little smears of your lipgloss on his skin. 

Nothing more than that though. 

You had told him early on in the relationship you were a virgin, and you had wanted to take things slow, as you weren't used to getting attention- only giving it. Steve was completely fine with this of course, knowing your soul was much too innocent, too pure to be handled by anyone else. 

Steve wanted nothing more than to take care of you, to love and cherish you. But sometimes, his thoughts would turn south. He hated himself for it, he truly did. But how could he think clearly, with you looking like that? 

So beautiful, so innocent and carefree.

 Sliding his hand down, he slowly brushed your back, resting his hand gently on your ass, squeezing tenderly.

 “Mmm…” you stirred in your sleep, readjusting yourself as he chuckled. “Little steps for a little girl hmm?” he cooed, patting your flesh softly as his hand made its way back to your back, rubbing circles as he listened to your calm breathing, your body still deep in its slumber. 

He wanted to corrupt you. 

He wanted his darkness, his desires and needs to fill you to the brim, until you were spilling over with want and neediness. 

Little steps Steve. Little steps. 

“Don’t worry angel, we’ll get you all trained for me soon.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   It had started off on the couch, on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. You listened to the sound of the rain pattering down the windows blending with the vinyl that spun on the vintage player. 

Perched upon Steve's lap, you watched him intently, drumming your figures against his lean biceps, your nails giving him a soothing scratch. You looked so little, so fragile as he seated you on top of him, and he adored it. 

He was hesitant to do what he was about to do, but all logical thoughts left his brain as you peered up at him, doe eyes wide. 

“Can you open your mouth for me please angel?” he asked gently. You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

Open your mouth? Why would he want you to open your mouth? 

He wasn't helping you brush your teeth, and he wasn't spooning ice cream between your plump lips. 

Despite this, you obeyed, mouth opening slightly. You listened to Steve, you knew that he knew what was best for you. He had reminded you time and time again, and you were thankful for it. Steve could sense your hesitation, watching you part your lips only slightly. 

“Good girl!” he smiled, seeing your cheeks flush, your thighs shifting as you squirmed in delight at the praise. 

He knew about it since the very first meeting, sensing your body language whenever he would compliment you, or praise you for your actions. 

God, he couldn't wait to tap into that even more. 

“Wider.. atta girl.” he cooed, slipping his two fingers past your parted lips, making your eyes widen in surprise. “Just trust me baby okay? You’re doing such a good, good job. Just suck on em, justttt like that.” he murmured, watching as you slowly relaxed your jaw, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked on his fingers like a pacifier. 

Your eyelids felt heavy as you sucked, swirling your tongue around his digits. It was relaxing, you realised. You didn't know why exactly he was making you do this, but you couldn't complain about how it was making you feel. 

“What a big girl eh? Doin it all by herself.” he smiled as you moved your hands to wrap around his wrist. He slid his fingers out with a soft pop!, watching the string of your saliva stick to his fingers from your lips. 

“Good girl angel. My beautiful angel.” he said, kissing your neck as you giggled, praising you until you were a squirming mess. 

Rewarding you. 

It became a daily routine, those little moments of serenity. Positive reinforcement- is what it was called, he discovered. Gifting you little rewards, things you liked whenever you did what he asked, so you’d do it more, and more.

 It worked, and it worked well. 

Pretty soon, you’d trot up to Steve at the same time everyday, perching up on his lap to take his fingers. He’d slowly push them deeper and deeper, so you’d be ready for him, on your knees. 

But not to pray. Never to pray. 

Steve tried it with other things, like calling him daddy. What you were supposed to be calling him. 

It had slipped out when the two of you were having a heated makeout session, his hand tangled in your hair as teeth and tongues clashed. “Stev-”

 “It’s Daddy to you angel. Only Daddy, mkay?” You had nodded slowly, bringing your hand up to touch your swollen lips. “Daddy?” He had just smiled. “Yes angel, daddy. Makes me so happy, when you call me that.” He slid his hands up your skirt, knuckles brushing your inner thighs, making you purr like a kitten.

 So far, his tactics had been working like a charm. You had been obeying him, trailing him around the house just for the small chance you’d be able to play with his large, veiny hands, or be able to wrap your arms around his torso and squeeze him like a teddy bear. 

You had even begun to call him daddy without even realising it, the name slipping out of your mouth as smooth as silk. Little did you know hard you made him each time, your little actions causing him to grind against you subtly. 

It was torture. The sin that littered his thoughts whenever you neared, whenever the sweet, sickly smell of your arousal clung to his skin, making it heat and burn. 

Steve needed release. He needed it now. 

You were already in a vulnerable state of mind at the time, the hour growing late, your body tired and limp. He watched you from his armchair in the corner of the bedroom, exhaling the cigarette smoke from between his lips, watching it vacate through the opened window as the curtains swayed gently in the cool night breeze. 

You watched him intently, legs clenching together at the sight of him manspreading, head lolled back against the soft velvet. “Can I have a drag?” you asked sweetly, shuffling up on your knees, the bed dipping slightly under your weight. 

“Little girls like you don't get cigs angel. They’re not good for you.” he chuckled, watching you pout. “But you get them!” you huffed. He tapped his smoke on the edge of the ash tray, letting the stray ash fall as he shifted up from his seat. 

He made his way across the room in two strides, sliding the cigarette between your parted lips. You inhaled deeply, smoke feeling your lungs, choking you. You coughed and spat as you exhaled, the smog burning your throat. 

“See? It’s yucky.” he smirked, putting out the but. “Why’d you let me then?” you asked, wincing at the stale taste. 

“Cause you gotta learn angel. When I tell you no, it means no. For good reason at that.” he laughed, flicking your nose with a smile. 

“Hmph.” you huffed, forgetting about the bitter taste as he lightly pushed you down upon the silk sheets, making your hair sprawl out around you. “You’re so beautiful angel.” he whispered, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing your bottom lip, tugging it down occasionally. 

“Yeah daddy?” you blushed, feeling your core heat at the praise, your body going taut under his touch as you shifted your thighs together for friction.

 It didn't go unnoticed by Steve. He smirked. 

“Yeah, angel. Such a beautiful, beautiful girl for me. My girl.” he emphasised, breath getting caught in his throat as you slipped his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it softly as you peered up at him innocently. 

“Wanna be your good girl.” you smiled, licking the saliva off his thumb as your hands came up to brush the hair that curled at the back of his neck, the strands soft as silk between your fingers. “You wanna be my good girl? Then can you answer something for me? Truthfully? You know daddy doesn't like lies.” 

You nodded, eyes wide. 

“Do you get those tingles around me angel? The ones you told me about earlier, the ones that make you feel all warm n fuzzy?” he cooed, biting his lip as you nodded, squirming under him. “Can you show daddy where?” 

You grabbed his hand, guiding it down to your quivering cunt, sliding it under the slip of your nightgown. “R’here daddy.” you whined, moaning as he tapped his two fingers against your clit.

 “Oh angel, you’re awfully wet. Is this all for me?” he tsked, grinning as you bucked your hips up into his touch, tugging his hair tighter. “S’all for you daddy…” 

“You gonna let daddy make it all better? S’not good for little girls like you to be gettin this all worked up.” he pouted, mock sympathy dripping from his words like acid. 

“Want you to fix it daddy, make me all better. Please?” you whispered, lapping up each drop of the stinging liquid that dripped from his tongue like a woman starved.

 “How could I say no to a pretty face like that?” he smiled, stroking your cheek, his hands tracing over the plains and valleys of your body, watching your breasts perk up, nipples pebbling from under the sheer white lace of your dress.

 “Mmm daddy whatta doin?” you asked timidly, curious to what the man above you was doing, his hands resting on your thighs. “Gonna make it all better angel. Now be a good girl and present to daddy, attaaa girl.” he cooed as you allowed him to spread your legs apart and flip your nightgown up, revealing your soaked panties to him. 

“Just a dumb lil baby arent you? I gotta do everything for you?” You shook your head, watching as he began to slide the flimsy fabric down, down, down past your thighs to the tips of your toes.

 “S’fine, you know I like takin care of you angel eyes. But tonight, I’m gonna take these-” He dangled the thong from his fingers, setting it down on the bedside table beside him. “And I’m goin stroke my cock with em, and you’re goin watch angel. Then, after daddys got his cream all over em, I’m gonna shove it between those pretty little lips of yours, okay?” 

You nodded, purely dumbfounded. This side of Steve, you had never seen before. Not that you were complaining- of course. You were just… new to this. 

Very new.

 “Yes daddy.”

 “Good girl angel. You’re never gonna leave this house unless you got my cum in your panties, gotta stuff you full of me allll the time.” he grinned, pupils blown as he took in your beautiful body, all splayed out for him. 

Like an angel. 

You whimpered as he took his fingers, running the digits across your slit, watching you clench around air as he teased you. “This is mine now, okay angel? My fuckhole. It’s daddys property now.” 

You moaned at his words alone, your head lolling against the sheets as he slid off his shirt, the dim glow of the candles making his chiselled abs gleam faintly. The sight had you sucking in air through your teeth, his muscles flexing as he bent your legs causing you to spiral.

 “Are we gonna do what we always do? With your fingers?” you begged, hiccuping as he patted your puffy folds tenderly with the palm of his hand. “Something so much better baby. You’re gonna love it so much, it’ll make the tingles feel all better. Daddys here now, takin care of you just like he should.”

 You watched as he unbuckled his belt, the jangle of it making you jump as he shrugged off his jeans and boxers, exposing his hard, aching cock to you. 

“ It's so big daddy!” you whispered, watching as he smirked in delight. “S’not gonna fit in there…” you trailed off, gasping as he rubbed his cock against your soaked folds, moaning as he tapped your clit firmly, his precum mixing with your juices. 

“Oh we’ll make it fit angel. How else is daddy supposed to take care of you hmm?” You whimpered, watching as he neared your entrance.

 “Daddy m’scared.” you confessed, gripping his bicep tightly, crescent moons forming across his soft, smooth skin as he ever so slowly pushed the tip in. 

“Shhh, shh that's a good girl. I know you’re scared angel but daddys here now, that's it honey.” he praised, slowly easing in, stretching you as you cried out. “You gotta relax for me angel, or else it won't feel good to you. And we don't want that do we? Daddy's little fucktoy needs to feel good.” he cooed, encouraging you to take deep, shaky breaths as you allowed him to fill you up, your walls hugging him like a glove.

 “Daddy s’big-” you cried, tears falling from your doe eyes, sliding down your flushed cheeks as he seating himself fully in you. 

“This is how it's gonna be from now on angel, I gotta keep you filled all the time. You gotta keep daddy nice and warm.” he teased, leaning down to brush a soft, tender kiss on your cheeks, lapping up the salty tears that lay there. 

“You’re doing so well for me baby. I’m so proud of you.” he whispered, tenderly kissing along your jaw as he slid out slowly, making you gasp. “Proud of me-e?” you asked, moaning as he thrusted slowly back into you, his hips picking up an easy rhythm as you threw your head back in pleasure. 

“So proud angel. Hey, hey eyes on me okay? I’m right here, I’m with you angel. We’re gonna go to heaven together, you and I.” 

“S’good daddy. Feels so good-d.” you hiccuped, the pain turning to pleasure as your legs trembled, muscles turning limp as he rocked into you, hissing at the way you’d clench around him tightly. 

“Told you I’d make you feel good angel eyes. D-daddy always knows.” his breath caught as your nails raked down his arms, tugging him even closer as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Wanna fill you full, stuff you full of my cum. You want that angel?” 

“Yes oh gods!” you screamed, heavenly fire caressing and licking down your spine as your core churned, the feelings of pure pleasure overwhelming your senses.

 “Cum for me angel. Cum for daddy.” he whispered, voice husky in your ear, echoing off the walls as you wailed his name in bliss. 

You shattered under him, the pieces of you snapping off with each thrust, glistening on the sheets like broken glass. It was heaven, the way he made you feel. Your orgasm escaped you with a gentle tug, your vision turning starry as Steve’s hips shuttered. 

“Fuck angel… look attcha, milkin me dry.” he cooed, watching your juices squirt on his cock, coating him. “Daddy need you-” you moaned, screaming as his grip harshened, a final thrust before he came with a grunt of your name, followed by endless praises. 

“Oh angel, my sweet angel…” he whispered, watching your body shake and squirm under him, your breath coming in short little gasps from the stimulation your body just endured. 

He was so proud of you. So proud of his little girl for taking him all, for pleasing him. 

“We’re gonna get you on your knees soon honey okay? Just like mass.”

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers filth #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #normad!steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #mob boss steve rogers #steve rodgers fluff #steve rodgers x you #steve rodgers x y/n #steve rodgers smut #steve rodgers #steve rodgers imagine #captain america #captian america x reader #captain america imagine #captian america #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic #captain america fluff #captian america smut #captain america fic

[neonovember]

Bruised Knuckles

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

9K words

a/n: this one is a really long chapter, I went a little overboard, maybe this makes up for my procrastination

The whizz of a snowball blurs crystal white from the corner of your eye as your feet crunch across the gravelled road, the breeze of melting ice from the summer heat just misses you, and for a second you think- he's going to hit you for real

You can hear the barrelling of shoes behind you, and you know he’s advancing. He makes it really obvious when he tries to send an outstretched hand towards you, attempting to trip you, you laugh maniacally as you slip past wavering fingers.

“You gotta be a lot faster than that Rogers!” You howl it into the wind as it takes it, and the grunts of running are heard behind you as you slip through the alleyway into the trail that leads to the pine forest on the edge of town.

“C'mon, that’s not fair!” Steve shouts after you, turning your head you catch his staggering frame, hands pressed into his knees as he bends over, huffing and puffing as if the world didn’t have enough air to fill his lungs.

“Hey, you’re the one with the so-called impeccable aim” You tease

You slow down your pace as you feel the wind ruffle your hair, it’s summertime and you drink in the syrupy goodness that comes with evenings in daylight. The broad pine trees tower over the both of you, leaves and sprinkles of birch fall from the tops and settle around you as you lean against a tree. You would never get used to this, the earthy smell of some thousand-year-old monuments, the laughter of Steve’s voice. Never.

“God, I wish I could just stay here forever”, You whisper to him, eyes glossing over the clearing you both arrived at, an ingrained letter of your initials in one of the trees to the left, a fire pit surrounded by rocks, now ashes and dirt.

“We could, you know we can” Steve’s voice comes back, between awkward breaths of lung-filled air.

“Yes we could, we could, but then we’d just be like our parents, stuck in a town that’s stuck in the past. God, I know my father would never forgive me if I ended up like him” You say solemnly, kicking a stone at the base of your aged converse.

“Come with me,” Steves says suddenly, and you look up to see his staggering form leaning across a tree. His breathing seems to be back to normal, as he walks towards you. Suddenly though, it's your heart that has begun to thump loudly behind your ribs.

“Huh? What- What do you mean?” You ask bringing up a hand to wipe the perspiration settling uncomfortably on your forehead.

“Let’s go, me and you, right now. Let's leave this town and everything in it for good. Your mom, my father, fuck, everyone” Steve urges, his hands wavering around his words, he's never been afraid to look you in the eye, but now his focus is anywhere but you. God, he couldn't do this without you, he needed you, and now he was praying to the heavens you needed him just as bad.

“I-“ You begin to form your reply, before forcing Steve's chin to face you, he had grown a whole foot taller over the winter and it was awkward to reach up at him at such a low angle.

“Look at me Stevie” You plead, and all it takes is the sound of your calling for him to do anything you ask him to. 

Steve’s cerulean blues watch you closely, the burning feeling of anxiety and trepidation spilling into his stomach as waits on your every word.

You begin mouthing words, your eyes shining with an expression his only since one before, but he isn't able to understand. Like his dove into the deep end, your words are muffled and unintelligible, you look at him then, confusion lacing your features. You look at him like he’s turned into an alien, and he can't fucking hear you goddamnit. You mouth those same words, yet they don't reach Steve, hitting the surface, unable to penetrate and find him.

The edges of his vision begin to burn a dirty orange, and the pine trees surrounding the both of you begin to melt. The bright orange storm of a wildfire burns behind you, lighting up your features like a beacon. Steve begins to scream, he tries to scream, he fails to scream, he reaches for you, shaking as he nudges your shoulder to look behind. The confusion on your face increases as your eyebrows furrow and a shivering fear wraps itself around Steve's spine, as the fire edges closer and closer.

You're not listening, acting as if nothing has happened as the heat drips down Steve’s back, a feeling of grief washes over Steve as he realises your going to die out here, in the town you hate, you're going to be buried 6 feet into the dark dirt of this place for eternity. 

And for the first time, Steve panics. He can't speak, he can't move,  he can't save you. He's a little boy again, hanging onto the last bar of the monkey bars as you cheer him on from below. But no matter how far he stretched out his hand he can't reach it, he can't reach you. And those same hot tears spill down his face, dripping down his neck, dirty and humiliating and fucking weak. The flickering tongues of the wild forest fire wraps itself around the pine trees, and before Steve can reach for you, before Steve can even scream, you're engulfed by the formidable inferno, and like a flame to a photograph, you’re gone.

Just like that.

-- -

Steve wakes with a shivering sweat, his internal furnace staining the sheets as the glistening perspiration slides down his back uncomfortably.

The sun is just peeking through the fluttering linen curtains, and Steve reaches around to place the fallen alarm clock back onto the side table. It seems it was knocked during his slumber, his slumber. You had begun to seep into his mind until you began to stain even his subconscious, confronting him with past memories that seemed like mirages all these years later.

There were ginormous, those pine trees that towered over the edge of town, he remembers how they seemed like giants compared to his sullen form. In a sense, Steve admired them, they were resilient, to man-made destruction, against the forces of nature, they stood still and remained unchanged, he doesn't doubt they would be the same even now when the both of you had changed so much. He doesn't doubt those engraved initials would still feel the same against his thumb, even if Steve felt something akin to betrayal when you had scraped both your initials into one of the birch trunks.

Those pine tree roots that sprung beneath the surface that travelled for miles, seemed to interlink the both of you, wrapping themselves around you until you both would be forever joined, somehow, even thousands of miles away. Steve would never escape their grasp, he could never escape you, no matter how hard he tried he was nothing against the monumental giants of nature. 

A burn of nostalgia and regret begins to unfurl in Steve's stomach as he begins to piece back the fractured parts of the dream that had slowly begun to slip between his fingers. He's reaching desperately, hopelessly, reaching for them, grabbing at scraps of years where he wasn't always so mad, so exhausted, so indifferent.

It had been years since his mind had reopened the memories from his childhood, and it is with caution, those times were locked in a chained drawing cabinet, filed impeccably and thrown into the Mariana trench and left to rot. There wasn't time, and money to waste on nostalgia, not in the life Steve had chosen for himself, not after those same hands reaching for that chest were blooded and raw with sin. No, no, those memories were long tainted, there was no point in digging up old graves.

The bleeding red digits indicate it's far too early in the morning, and therefore just the right time to get up, for Steve Rogers, at least. The crumbled and sweaty sheets are left haphazardly on the bed for the in-house maid to clean, and Steve wastes no time jumping into a cold shower to wash off the uncomfortable reality of his past.

The activities from last night still seeped into his blond locs, across his chest, and between his fingers, and Steve grumbles as he recalls the waste of space and energy that informant had been. Steve turns the water a scalding hot and the nostalgia, memory and fevered dream of you is washed down the drain along with the dirty red specks of blood and dust that were still stuck to the edges of his skin.

He just needed to talk to you today, and use this poorly organised meeting to clear his head. If he set boundaries, if he set an endgame then it would be easier to de-attach himself from the grasp of contingencies. Steve wouldn’t make you a liability, he couldn’t, he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he did.

The clank of Steve’s cuff links roll across the chestnut drawer and they remind him of the years with his father. The red and white pills rolling across the rotting wooden floors of the home you wouldn’t call home. His snake eyes and silvery skin seemed to pale and scale each day that passed. Steve shakes his head, muttering as he clicks them into his cuffs. As far as he knew, his father was as good as dead. To him at least.

His fingers grasp the keys to his car, they jingle in his broad palm and he pockets them swiftly, the ring of his cell phone resounds through the quiet room and Steve reaches for it quickly. A call this early in the morning meant one thing and one thing only, what had occurred in the night was not yet finished, seeping into the safety of the morning light.

Steve nods along to the gruff voice sounding from the receiver, a hand coming to push back his fallen locks, leaving the room Steve enters the Manor's kitchen space.

Bucky is perched on one of the silver stools, sipping on a glass filled with what seemed to be orange juice, but with closer inspection was clear to be all parts liquor with a splash of the citric acid. God, alcohol this early in the morning? Steve ought to get Bucky a therapist.

Bucky senses Steve's presence before he even steps into the room, eyes trained on his figure practically hugging the cell phone perched between his ear and shoulder. A puzzled expression fills Bucky’s face as if to say ‘What are they saying?’ And Steve waves him off as he takes the steaming cup of coffee waiting for him on the ceramic countertop.

The kitchen is soundless this early in the morning safe for Steve's peaceful sips and Bucky’s fervent gulps, and a few minutes pass before Steve ends the call abruptly, a grim expression overtaking his features.

Bucky stands at attention, his eyebrows raising as he awaits steves explanation for such an early call.

“Got some trouble from the east end, some low-level goons messing with some of our men. One of the guys wants to meet up to talk ownership over the east side docks.” Steve replies, throwing the cell phone onto the granite counter, it clatters and bounces for a second before it settles in the corner.

“Isn’t that owned by, ya know, our runaway girl's husband?” Bucky replies, pushing against the counter to get up and walk towards Steve.

Steve nods, hands bent across his chest as he leans against the counter.

“That’s what’s confusing, Micheal, you know the guy? Short stoic and always a little on edge? He’s saying that Matthews is willing to talk about some sort of alignment. Make that area some fort of peacekeeping, owned by the both of us” Steve replies.

“It’s not bad, both of our men up there would mean the problem of those pocket-picking gangs would be solved, less of a strain on us” Bucky nods along, before adding

“But, Micheal, he’s-, he isn’t really known for being the most reliable ya know? Gets you caught up in the details, blows them out of proportion and leaves too many loose ends” Bucky reasons, his body now across from Steve.

“It makes sense though, those rising groups haven't just incapacitated our operations, Matthews is suffering from their outstanding resilience to incapacitate them. But you’re right, Micheal can’t be completely trusted, that’s why I need to talk to some contacts and see what’s been seeping into conversations underground. Either way, I need to check on our men up there, see if everything alright” Steve sighs, mind reeling over the impending tasks on his mind, but most importantly you.

“You were meant to see her this morning, right” Bucky smirks as if reading Steve's mind from across him.

“Told her we’d iron some things out in the morning, promised to pick her up. This thing I’ve done, I don't want it to be for nothing Bucky, and I don’t want to go back on my word” Steve says solely, checking his phone for the 3rd time for your call.

“I need you and Sam to fill in for me,” Steve begins

Bucky nods before whipping his head to face Steve’s

“Sam? Why does he have to come, I'm perfectly capable of talking to her by myself” Bucky grumbles, and just like clockwork, Sam comes strolling in, his shirt rolled up to his forearms as he dusts off the specks of blood littering his chest.

Bucky looks towards the man in disgust, eyes rolling at the displays of violence clearly sprayed across his body. 

“Really? Do you have to walk around the house looking like you've just come from massacring a family of 5?” Bucky groans, going to plunk his glass into the sink.

“Who’s to say I didn’t” Sam replies, a mischievous grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, as he bumps into Bucky, pushing him to the side with his hip as he washes off the grime covering his fingers.

“Let's face it Bucky, you’re a bit…intimidating.” Steve trails off, amusement on his face as he watches Sam groan at the discovery of a stain ruining his dress shirt.

Bucky swirls his body to face Steve’s, his eyebrows raised in shock.

“Inti-intimidating? There’s a man in this room with blood-stained cuffs, and I’m the one who’s intimidating?” Bucky sputters

Steve shrugs his shoulders, a whisper of a smile etching itself on his face.

“You just have this lone wolf thing about you, it scares people off” Steve murmurs thoughtfully as if he’s been analysing Bucky’s palatability before.

“C'mon, she was practically telling me to piss off the last time I talked to her, she out of all people can handle a Barnes”. Bucky replies, an annoyed expression on his face.

Steve bristles at Bucky’s comment, for some reason, a fuelled hatred fills his chest at the mention of you having to ‘handle’ anything.

“She’s already agreed, there’s no need to intimate date her further, besides,  from what I’ve heard it seems she’s the one intimating you both” Steve lets out a comical laugh, swiping his phone from the counter and shoving it into his suit pants.

“Guess it’s a road trip?” Sam replies, before dodging an incoming plate thrown at him from the hands of Bucky.

“I swear to god…” Bucky replies gruffly, shouldering in his suit jacket before pushing past a snickering Sam

“Hey-“ Steve calls, his voice a little lower than moments before. Bucky’s stiff back turns slowly at the sound of Steve’s suddenly baritone voice that bounces through the swallowing hallways.

“Don’t scare her, try and be- just don’t show her your daggers or pull some stupid shit, I mean it. She’s different, I mean she was practically inducted into this life but she was always kept hidden, ya know? Never knew how deep it got” Steve says, the icy expression that morphs his features into the dark formidable creature he turns the air around them a frosty cold.

Both Sam and Bucky nod, they understood a command when they were told one, and this one seemed as if Steve’s entire being was hanging onto it.

— -

It's well into the morning light when you finally rise from your slumber, the beating heat slipping through the cracks of your blinds. A sense of anxiety rushes through you as you realise you’re late to work, clamouring out of bed and ending up on the floor.

However the sound of the neighbour kids bustling footsteps through the apartment complex eases your worries, it’s Sunday. Your well-earned, and only, day off.

You lay there, on the dusty carpet of your bedroom floor, and drink in the bliss of a day without a multitude of tasks that needed to be completed. Your legs ached from the turbulent labour you’d that had been forced on you daily for a job you knew didn’t pay for the work it took. You couldn't let yourself dwell on it, you'd only just ends up in a spiral of depression and regret you don't know you could pull yourself from. What you did need was coffee, you think you might collapse back onto the floor if you don't get that liquid gold in your body.

What can you say? Old habits die hard, for you, it was caffeine and for your husband it was knuckles on skin.

-- -

Your shower lasts less than the amount of time you have warm water, which is about 15 minutes. Not nearly enough to wash the grime and dirt that was always stuck to the back of your ears or other inconspicuous cracks you’d only find after the water had drained out.

It’s when you're pouring yourself a steaming brew into your favourite mug when you get the text. Your phone lights up, illuminating the small kitchen darkened by the black-out curtains you’d bought to keep the sun out. You can't help but grow audibly as you fear that your one day off would be interrupted by your boss’s demand for you to come in. It wouldn't be the first time she had thought you lived breathed and slipped on her every beck and call.

Flipping to the screen side up, your heart hammers loudly against your rips when you are confronted by an unknown number outlined in dark text

Something came up, Sam and Bucky are gonna come pick you up?

Steve.

You should be thinking about how he had found your number, or who this Sam is, but all your mind reels at is his apparent absence. Hell, you don’t know why but your heart sinks at that. You had thought that maybe, stupidly, you'd find out why he truly wanted to help you, use this meet-up to determine what his endgame was, and quell the what-ifs and questions that had been swirling around your skull since yesterday.

It was foolish really, to think that he would just open himself to you, that he wouldn't don the same mask he wore when he was ripping off drug lords and executing their men. You were simply another source of information to him, nothing more, nothing less. At least this way you knew where you stood.

Your phone begins to light up as the bubbles of an incoming text display on the grey chat. 

That alright?

He's asking for your permission? You can’t help but laugh, it erupts from the depths of your stomach and escapes through your mouth. And without even a blink of a second, you bent over, loud laughs leaving your mouth uncontrollably as hiccuped tears run down your cheek. The man who had no less than shown up at your workplace followed you home, and send his men after you were asking for your permission. You knew it meant nothing, you knew he would still send them anyway, he just wanted to make sure you did too.

You snatch your phone from the laminate counter, scoffing as you type out a reply,

Perfectly fine.

It was NOT perfectly fine, but you’re too tired at this point to argue, a little talk wouldn't ruin your day, and most importantly he wouldn't ruin your day.

Plopping yourself on your velvet couch you wipe the fallen tears stricken on your cheeks, you still had your coffee. Maybe you could throw that at him, he may be a formidable monster that dominated the criminal scenes of New York, but he was still human, and coffee was still fucking hot.

-- -

You watch Bucky and Sam pull into your apartment before they do, it wasn’t hard, a car like that in a place like this stood out like a sore thumb, you wouldn't doubt by the time they'd dragged you out of your home that they’d find their tires missing.

A smile lights your face at the thought, now that would be funny.

They exit with the car still running, donning tailored suits that clung to every dip and stretch of their body. You don't wait for them to knock when you catch their heavy footsteps pounding against the concrete balcony, maybe if they thought you weren't home they would just leave you alone.

You remain huddled into your coach,  watching their tall shadows move about the front of your apartment. They wouldn't try and break in right..?

There is a hurried knock that causes you to jump involuntarily, and it is soon followed by a bellowing baritone voice that seeps into the cracks of your plaster walls.

“Doll, we ain't got all day, and I know you’re in there so why don't you be a pretty peach and open the door?” Bucky’s voice causes you to bristle, and your teeth press into your bottom lip nervously. There is a sliver of dominance in his voice that doesn't quite reach the surface. Enough years and you learn when someone is trying to hold back. 

There is a rummaging of clothes before Bucky begins to speak again,

“This look like some reinforced steel Sam?, How about tripe pane glass?”

A man's voice soon follows, replying with a chuckled no.

“You hear that doll? Your door isn't some reinforcement against us, it won't protect you, I figure I could bust it down with the tip of my foot. Now I don’t think your neighbours would quite like that disturbance this early in the morning hm?” Bucky’s voice is muffled by your door, but you can tell he's stepped closer, his lips pressed into the crack between the door and your hallway wall.

“Am I right doll?” Bucky reiterates, his voice deepening a dangerous octave, the kind that probably gets him what he wants, no questions asked.

Your eyes travel to your apartment door, the paint chipping off the sides of the wooden frame, dust falls to the bottom as Bucky taps his foot against it, chuckling at the pitiful sound it makes in return.

Yeah, your door is practically a pillow against them.

You cough loudly as you attempt to form a reply, the words getting caught up in your throat

“Yes, I'm coming, just, just don’t break down my door please” You finally let out, you hope to god you sounded the least bit content, but as you fumble with the door handle you know there remains a tremor in your voice.

One last swift turn does it, and you open your door swiftly.

They is a short moment that passes, where they both seize you up again as if you'd changed from those days before. Bucky eyes wander behind your shoulder, practically scrutinising the contents of your home.

“For your information, this door has withstood a grade A snow storm,” You say, your hand resting on the corner of your door,

Bucky flashes you a sickening grin, his canines shining against the morning light. The man beside him is just as tall, only a mere few centimetres below Bucky, his suit stretches against the expansive muscle of his chest and shoulder, and with the veins running up his arm you don't doubt that he could quite literally crash you with his bare hands.

His stance is domineering, and his short black hair makes him look infinitely more lethal. He looks the picture of the men who work for your husband, and occupy the hallways of your home at all times, however, there is one defining difference. His eyes. Even whilst they are a deep earthy brown the kind shadowed by trees and left in the darkness of the underground, they are soulful.

They carry a hidden kindness, even if they may be muddled by violence and bloodshed, it is still there. The sliver of humanity that separates Sam from the thousands of men you've encountered, those men of your husbands whose fox eyes watched your every move, surveying you, scrutinising you as if to find a reason to hunt you down. 

You never found peace in that home, for your every move was watched by cameras and hundreds of pairs of scrutinising eyes that were bought with money that was caked in blood.

‘Do you want another minute to judge my apartment or can you shove me into the boot of your Mercedes already” You sigh, grabbing your bag, and throwing in your phone and a jacket.

“Your lead, and for your information, it's a Maserati” Sam chuckles edging closer so he whispers it into your ear. A shiver runs down your back and you fix your shoulder, locking the door behind you as you walk down the concrete steps that crumble beneath your feet.

Sliding into the backseat, you don't notice the way their eyes linger on you, watching you from the review mirror as your gaze travels across your apartment and neighbourhood, the kids are still playing some game of ball, the basketball aged and torn apart from its frequent use, the old man at the bottom of the stairs is resting on an armchair, smoking a cigarette you've told him countless times will contribute to his death.

You bid them farewell, as Bucky turns out of the parking lot, the pine trees towering at the edge of the road blur a green and brown as you let the scenery around you consume you. This side of the city can be beautiful when it wants to be, when the morning dew hasn't yet fully melted, and the blanket of security covers you just for that moment.

You don't like to, but it reminds you of your childhood strangely, the trees and the way the sunlight shines through the branches. You don’t quite know why, it presses into the edges of your mind, like half-memories, like a big chunk of your mind has been cut open and taken out. There's a searing pain whenever your mind travels to those years before, a white-hot burn whenever you think too hard about it. So you don't. You close your eyes and rest your head against the leather seat, with two pairs of eyes watching you the whole ride.

-- -

Your body moves along with the twists and turns of the route Bucky follows almost mechanically, Sam had gone into a rather long phone call, the cell phone perched between his head and shoulder.

The terrain has changed from the concrete skyscrapers of Brooklyn, venturing into the natural scenic roads separating the buzz and hum of the city that was always alive. You hadn't travelled or even explored much since your settlement in Brooklyn, so much of where Bucky was taking you was unknown to you, you would’ve liked it, you think. If you weren't on the run and had notches of your past scorched into your back. Maybe in another life, you would've spent your twenties backpacking across the states, an ocean blue van that would be your home.

Now though, it takes everything to push the rising anxiety back down into your chest and not have a meltdown in the back of Bucky’s car.

As the smooth city roads turn into fragmented gravel paths you shift in your seat, edging closer to the window, your eyes watch the world around you evolving into the nature that once replaced New York, Bucky almost senses your wonderment, and quietly pulls the window down an inch or two. The scent of sea foam and wet dirt waft through your hair as you breathe it in, you reach out with a hand, letting the soft wind from Bucky’s press of the accelerate twirl and glide between your fingers.

You catch a pair of eyes watching you closely, but before you can look up they’re looking away, back to doing what they once were before.

The speed of the car begins to slow down, and Bucky turns into a dirt road surrounded by forest trees. A sense of unease fills you before Bucky drives up to a clearance, the shrubbery and foliage clear up to some sort of national park.  A long lake snakes around the rocky mountains, hidden behind the same deep brown trees towering over the sides of the road.

There is a car park towards the front, in which Bucky pulls into and parks swiftly, your gaze travels across the park, a wooden sign at the front is carved with the name of the clearing, some founder or explorer you had probably learned in 8th grade but is forgotten at the back of your mind. A map is attached below, along with the phone number of the park ranger closest. Triangle-shaped yellow signs warn hikers of the habitual animals that roam the parkland, and you smile as a figure of walking ducklings urge drivers to be wary.

There are a few cars parked around Bucky’s; a large red minivan with aged and peeling bumper stickers attached to the back, a dark black jeep, and a small sedan with one of those stick figure family stickers at the back.

You don't wait for Bucky or Sam before opening the door, the crunch of your sneakers against the gravel path.

“Wait a sec” Calls Bucky, you look behind your shoulder to find him rummaging in the backseat of the car, before shutting it and jogging up to you.

“Sam’s gotta finish up with something” Bucky explains as you catch Sam half smile as he continues with the phone call. You and Bucky must seem out of place, him with his perfectly tailored suit and you with your lazy Sunday outfit you pulled from your laundry.

Bucky leads you both to a park bench, and as you being to settle down Sam pops up, sitting across and joining Bucky, shooting you a quick apology.

“So, since you've agreed with this... arrangement, we've got to set out some ground rules and finalise a few things” Bucky begins, taking out a few papers with typed-out paragraphs of jargon you probably wouldn't understand.

“Do I need a lawyer..?” You ask as you eye the printed documents sitting across from you.

“It's all a formality, Steve.. he uh, he likes to be professional with his dealings is what I can say” Sam chuckles, crossing his head

“In exchange for your voluntary participation and the provision of sensitive and confidential information, Steve will provide you with fully serviced protection and surveillance of oneself and accommodation. Basically, me and Buck will come around each day to check everything is in order, and one of our men with be stationed at your apartment” Sam continues, nodding towards the documents before you.

“So ill be followed everywhere,” You reply, you had just escaped a life of constant surveillance and control, and right now it just felt like you were taking two steps back.

“I know what it sounds like, but most of our men are more friendly and less..well, automatic and mechanical. Steve only really trusts us, so you'll be seeing us more often than some random guy with a gun” Bucky says, smoothing down his suit pants.

Steve only really trusts us

You don't know why but your heart fumbles at Bucky's inclination that Steve cared about who was around you, your comfortableness, your satisfaction. It seemed so wrong after years of negligence to truly be cared after.

The loud sound of a dog barking causes you to tense just a fraction, your eyes flinch and you shift nervously in your seat. Get your shit together dammit, it was just a husky running beside its owner, the park never said it was free of dogs, but you can't help but stare at its blubbery open mouth, spit hanging from its sharpened teeth and a look of pure animalistic instinct in its eyes.

Stop, this isn't like the ones he keeps. Stop. overreacting.

It seems as if the dog sparked some sort of realisation that you were not in the safety of your apartment or in your workplace diner, that you were in a space occupied by the public in which anyone, even your husband could enter.

The more they talk, the more you itch with the anxiety bubbling in your chest, the bench under you is hard and itchy, you don't like it, and the sun has risen high into the sky, beating down on you. You try to keep up with them, head fuzzy as you nod after their every word, they glance at each other after a while of your scattering mind.

Both Sam and Bucky notice your uneasiness and the way your eyes dart around the nature park. Years in this life taught them how to read someone easily, and right now, you were practically crawling out of your skin.

You just, weren't used to being so out in the open, you feared you were running out with a printed target on your back saying “Shoot Me”. In the darkness of your apartment at least you felt somewhat safe, here, where you didn't know where you could hide, or if there even was somewhere to hide, the expanse of shrubbery and forest trees looked domineering, like they tower over you and swallow you whole, you didn't feel safe. In fact, you felt like it was open fucking season.

They'd picked an open space out in public, so you dint feel boxed in or isolated, a chance to feel a sense of normalcy whilst discussing deals with the mafia, huh, what a fucking joke. You keep readjusting your necklace, and they keep looking at you with that unreadable expression on their faces.

“You alright doll?” Sam replies, you can’t focus on him, the lines of his features blurring a little from the pounding headache that has begun to radiate from your temple

You nod and try focusing on the soft sounds of the nature park, the calls and whistles of native birds and the currying sounds of animals burrowing in their habitats. You know it does nothing, but you try and sink yourself into the false security of it.

Sam nods awkwardly back, he glances at Bucky and an unreadable conversation passes between them before Sam collects the papers you don’t remember signing.

“I think that’s enough business talk for a bit” Sam glances at his watch, muttering an obscenity under his breath.

“How about we drive you back home so can spend the rest of your day without having to deal with us, huh?” Sam replies trying to lighten the mood that has gone still with your curt answers.

You nod, itching to get home and under the covers, or under the heat of your shower to wash off the sludge of unease and anxiety coating your skin.

Bucky quietly watches you, and you throw him an always smile as you get up from the bench, tugging your sleeve down.

A moment passes with Bucky watching you closely before he smiles in return, but it’s one that mirrors yours, insincere and masking true emotions.

This time Sam opens the front passenger door for you, and you slide in quickly, shoving your bag at your feet and clicking the seat belt on. Bucky leaves the window down for you and you shut your eyes and let the warm wind settle the nerves that seemed to remain in your stomach.

— -

Bucky pulls out of your apartment complex, despite almost hitting a young boy running after a beat-up soccer ball.

He hadn’t pulled out until he had been sure you were safe and secured in your apartment, walking in and checking the place for any intruders despite your objections.

God, he never understood it, why you hated the idea of anyone helping you. Most women in this life demanded constant and immediate attention, hell he’d seen his own mother not lift a finger his entire life, raised by the many nannies and maids that had been employed at his family’s estate.

You though, helping you was like pulling teeth. It added to the hundreds of other questions Bucky had about you that Steve refused to answer, like why you had run away from a life he thought was full of luxury and opulence, or why Steve was so adamant in him and Sam to watch over you. 

Steve had never really involved himself in these types of business arrangements, but this one, it seemed as if Steve would commit murder if he found out you were left alone with one of his dispensable.

Bucky reaches for his phone left in the car’s compartment, fingers dailing Steve's phone as his other hand rests on the steering wheel. It rings twice before he picks up.

“Yeah?” Steve's gruff voice resounds against the echo of the basement he’s in, and Bucky has already gathered that he is deep within the monster that consumes him and enables him to rest on the throne of New York.

Bucky coughs a reply

“Hey, uh, we just finished up with her-”

“What’s the problem, something happen?” Steve’s voice replies in urgency, a sliver of concern in his tone that doesn't go unnoticed by them both.

“No, nothings wrong, we just-, well she-, Steve, I think you outta talk to her again, she's agreed and everything but she is, she’s on edge. I have a feeling she doesn't think you can protect her” Bucky finally lets out, the expansive nightlife of New York flashes past against the tinted windows of the car as Bucky follows the twists and turns to home.

“I mean she was practically clawing out of her body being in a goddamn park, Steve. A park. I figured she needs you to talk to her a little, and reassure her because, without her confidence in whatever this is, it all goes to shit. It’ll all fall down” Bucky says.

There is a beat of silence before Steve replies.

“Okay. I'll take the night off, tell everyone I'm off fucking.. somewhere. Back at the club.

“Alright,” Bucky replies before Steve ends the call abruptly. Sam glances at Bucky, sighing out loudly in the car before sinking into the leather seat.

“I have a feeling this will be the beginning of something that will be the end of us” Mutters Sam, but Bucky hears it all the same. And he can’t help it, but it all rings true. You will be the death of him.

The clench of Steve's jaw tightens as he slides his phone into his back pocket, rolling up his sleeves, Steve waste no time before striking the man bound to the chair across the face. Stringing blood and pieces of bone are scattered across the dingy basement floor, the burning lightbulb above them is the only thing that gives the light in the damp room, and it only adds to the sinister maliciousness that radiates from Steve.

He’s already dealing with an uncooperative subject, and the unexpected call from Bucky didn't quite ease the tension beginning to appear on his shoulders.

“Tell me,” Steve says, both his hands resting on either side of the armchair the man, a look of boredom crowds Steve’s face, his features unreadable as always as he stares down the snitch

“No” The spits it out along with flecks of blooded spit, and Steve chuckles, wiping away the blood splattered on his cheek before calmly replying

“You are nothing, your loyalty is that of a drop in the ocean, you don't think they won't cut your tongue and throw you in the Hudson with concrete feet for even getting caught by my men? Face it, you're a snitch, a rat- Steve pauses to spit to the ground- “and you and I both know the destiny a man like that has. Now do yourself a favour of a quick death and answer me, why is Matthews trying to free up the eastern docs?”

“Maybe he’s gathered a change of heart, it is the season to be generous no?” Chuckles the man, he smiles with his teeth covered in. blood, and Steve's grip presses into the armchair.

“You think this is a fucking joke? When has Matthews ever been generous, there has always been an endgame to every single move he does, what's the endgame to a fucking peace keep? Huh?”

“Look, I told you what I know, Matthews is trying to look as stable as possible, especially since he's begun to slip through the cracks, you know what they say right? That his little wife has gone running away? That sweet thing managed to slip past the biggest army in Northern America” The man replies, laughing manically.

Steve grunts at the mention of your name that passes through this animal’s mouth, how fucking dare he. He knows he shouldn't, he knows he needs to reign it in but all he hears is your name muttered from chipped golden teeth and he swings.

The savagery in the way Steve beats the man does not go unnoticed by the men around him, they watch on, as the crunch of bone and flesh fill the quiet basement, and the groaned pleas of the man are muffled by Steve's iron fists, his jaw collapsing in on itself as Steve throws his body to the ground with an obscene shout.

Steve had sometimes forgotten, how he has that formidable creature within him clawing its way out each time he steps out his front door, how he lets it consume him whenever he thinks of Matthews, and in a way; you.

“Clean this shit up, I don't ever want to see this fucking rat in New York ever again”. Steve growls towards the man around him, reaching for his keys and swiftly exciting from the cryptic warehouse on the edge of New York’s industrial area.

-- -

He doesn't quite know how he found himself outside your apartment, nor how fast he got there, but the thought is pushed to the side when you open your door suddenly. Wear eyes watching his staggering frame against your door frame, and all you have to do is nod before he’s entering your home.

“I thought Sam this morning would be the last I’d see of your men” You reply as you reach for two beers stacked away in your fridge. You weren't really a drinker, and you don't doubt they were stale.

“I said my men, I never said me” Steve chuckles, accepting the cold beverage you hand him appreciatively as he eases himself onto your small dining table in the corner of your room.

He practically swallows the entire place, his knees bubbing against the table as he awkwardly arranges himself on the too-small chair beside you. You hide your chuckle behind the neck of your beer bottle that you knock back down your throat.

A silence that is surprisingly comfortable falls over the both of you as you silently sip your beer bottles, and you find yourself reaching for another before ungracefully slumping your tired body into your wooden dining chair.

Steve catches the deep set bags under your eyes and the way your back practically hunched over as you rub a hand across your face

“Can’t sleep?” Steve murmurs, you look up as you catch his gaze which softens momentarily. Shaking your head you chuckle pitifully.

“That would be an understatement, more like can’t even shut my eyes” You scoff, before knocking back another sip of your beer.

“With this thing, we've arranged, hopefully, you’ll be able to” Steve replies, shifting in his seat as he looks towards you.

“If only it was that easy. Unless someone can enter into my brain and shut it off for a full 8 hours, I won't be getting any shut-eye” You smile wrily, before running a hand down your face, shaking your head.

“It’s fine, it's alright, ill- ill figure something out. It isn't like I haven't dealt with a few nights without sleep ya know? I don't even know why I'm telling you all this, you probably could care less” You reply with a finality that has Steve looking at you with that same strange expression you can't decipher.

Just as he begins to say something, Steve thinks better of it, simply shaking his head

“It’s alright, you're talking to an insomniac veteran over here, god knows I've burnt some eye-sized holes in my ceiling”

You can't help but let out a laugh, a real one, and the sound of it makes Steve’s heart collapse in on itself. Without even a moment  Steve already knows it's his favourite thing in this entire world, he wants to keep it, bottle it and keep it behind the white of his ribs and the coldness of his heart.

“Can I just ask you something?” You say suddenly,

He nods, giving you permission.

“Why do you want to do this? and tell me the real reason, not some false one you’ve made up.

“Honestly?”

It’s your turn to nod now,

“It’s selfish and cruel but I want to finally own something /make something of myself. This may come as a shock to you but I wasn’t always this fierce and formidable” you roll your eyes comically.

“I spent much of my years just wandering aimlessly, working jobs for other people, my loyalty was tied to one person and one person only. Myself.

“Seems like a tough way to live” you reply. You got it, something over came you when you got the keys to your first apartment. The first thing you actually owned since that bicycle you spend afternoons mowing lawns for. Selling lemonade for.

“You know, this deal, this arrangement-everything, means nothing if you can’t put your trust in it,” Steve says, running his hand down the neck of his beer bottle, letting the wet droplets fall down his fingers.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, silently, eyes looking up through the horizon of the beer bottle

“Do you trust me to protect you?” Steve asks again, as he rests his back against the wooden chair, an expectant expression on his face.

Do you? Everything in your mind is screaming at you to say no and run away, to hide back into the dark corner you’ve made a home out of, but as your gaze travels towards Steve, with those golden locs and cerulean blues, your heart murmurs with a familiar longing that you can’t ignore.

“Yea, strangely Steve, I do”. You reply with a look of pure candour on your face.

Your gaze travels to his hand gripping the neck of the brown bottle, and it is only then that you notice the tattered and bleeding skin of his knuckles. Steve catches your concerned gaze, eyebrows furrowing at the bruising beginning to form.

“It's nothing, just a little hands-on approach to a situation” Steve replies, shifting in his seat, but his excuse does nothing to quell the burn in your stomach.

“I know I have a first aid kit somewhere here” You murmur, rummaging through your kitchen cabinets as you peruse the tattered and peeling shelves and drawers.

“It's alright, doll, I'll get it patched up later-” Steve tries to argue, getting up from his seat, but you jolt up suddenly from your crouched position, a faded red first aid kit in your palm.

“Got it” You smile triumphantly, you rest yourself against the kitchen counter across from Steve, and Steve can say nothing as you raise your eyebrows, almost taunting him to protest against it.

“You��ve got men stationed outside my apartment, fixing up a few bleeding knuckles is the least I can do” You interject, moving towards him.

“Besides, if you're bleeding out on my living room floor, who else will be there to protect this” -you gesture your hands around the apartment- “Sanctuary?” Your question, a small smile softening your features and that's all it takes before Steve is conceating, following your footsteps to the small bathroom.

It's fitted with a peeling sink cabinet, toilet and a ceramic bathtub cramped into the corner, the low yellow light attached to the ceiling gives the room a sickly feel and Steve has to bend down onto the edge of the bathtub so you can reach him.

Pulling his blooded sleeves up, the reality of the damage on his hands can be inspected, the skin around his knuckles has peeled off completely, and splotches of dried and et blood seep from the wound.

As you take his hands into your palm softly, Steve grunts under his breath, not because of the pain radiating from his knuckles but because your fingers are so soft against the rough pads of his fingers.

You whisper an apology he waves off before ripping open an alcohol wipe, pressing it gently against his knuckles, making sure to clean off the grime and dirt stuck between his fingers.

The smell of blood that begins to permeate the air is one that is familiar, years of drunken nights had taught you how to patch up bruised cheeks and split stitches. Nights when your husband was so deep in his hunger for power and greed that he had thought you were here to take his kingdom from right under him. You knew what liquor could do to a man, but your husband to put it lightly, has always been and always will be, a mean drunk.

You feel a pair of eyes burning into you, and you look up to catch his intense stare watching over your every move, you have to look away after a moment, focus on the tap tap tap of the loose bathroom sink.

You take the small bandaged adhesives, and place them over his bruising knuckles, before covering them with bandaging cloth. You follow the same motions you had been forced to learn over the years to his other fist, feathering the cloth in and out between his fingers.

“How do you know how to do this?” Steve murmurs under his breath, his intense blues boring into your soul, as you look up from his bandaged knuckles.

“I was quite an adventurous kid, spent a good chunk of my childhood with my dad kneeling over me, patching up cuts and bruises” It is almost automatic, the way the well-practised lie slips from your lips, it leaves your mouth without a second thought.

Steve blinks at your reply, the blank expression covering his features is now taken over by his darkened eyes, his jaw tenses against his teeth and from the way his shoulders raise, you know there are a hundred things running through his mind. His fingers flex painfully in your grip, wrist rolled into a tight fist.

“Hey! Don’t go ruining my handiwork” You chastise him, flexing out his finger so they lay flat against your palm.

“We’ve all got history..right?” You smile, before his gaze travels across your features, nodding in a grimace.

“Some more than others” Steve replies, his left eye flinching as he catches the fading bruises peeking through your sleeves.

“Thank you,” Steve says, motioning to your fingers gripping his bandaged knuckles.

“It’s the least I could do I mean-” You begin before Steve cuts you off momentarily

“Hey, no, thank you really, you didn't have to, but you did” Steve's domineering voice crowds the small bathroom and you have to look down at your laced hands to let them out of your grip.

“I’ll leave you alone now, and I mean it this time,” Steve says, following you out of the bathroom.

“So I shouldn't be expecting any more nightly visits from men with guns at my door?” You question with a smile, as Steve shoulders his suit jacket on carefully, so as to not ruin your bandages.

“No, not tonight, if you see or hear anything or anyone, call me,” Steve replies, his voice deepening into a level of seriousness that gives you no choice but to listen.

“I mean it, you've got my cell, as well as Sam and Bucky’s, and I am an insomniac, so don’t have me second guessing alright?” Steve's baritone voice takes up the entire room, and all you can do is nod fervently.

You follow the loud footsteps of Steve's dress shoes down the short narrow hallway that leads to the front door, opening with one swift turn, Steve turns back to you swiftly.

“Don’t let mind cave in on itself, burying yourself in your thoughts only leaves you with a fatigue that doesn’t wear off and a bed that runs cold” Steve murmurs, a look casts a shadow over his eyes as his gaze trails over your tired features. But it leaves as soon as it comes and you find yourself still staring at that same spot on the carpet after he’s shut the door and left.

Taglist 🏷

@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory@stupendouslovegardener @nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3  @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta​ @@wolfieeebbbyyy​ @namelesssav  @nessie2183

#mafia!steve rogers #mafia!au #mob!steve #mob!au #mob!steve x reader #mafia!steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve rogers x fem!reader #mafia!steve rogers x fem reader #mob!steve rogers x fem!reader #mob!steve rogers x fem reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mob!sam wilson x reader #mafia!sam wilson x reader #steve rodgers x innocent!reder #steve rogers x you #mafia!avengers #mafia!bucky x fem!reader #mafia!sam wilson x fem!reader #mafia!steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #Mob!Steve Rogers #steve rogers fic #Steve Rogers

[hawksbabymama]

This gif is giving Stalker or Dark!Steve where he’s constantly watching your every move making sure his girl is safe 😣. He’s so possessive over you, and you don’t even know it. Dark!Steve would request you on all social media, learn your schedule, and watch you through your open window as you get ready for bed 😳. And only he knows what you do at night ☺️.

#dark steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #mob!steve #steve x reader #dark!steve x reader

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

Is there anymore Midnight Sun coming out?

I thought the end of the last book was so good - all the angst and I felt like she won!!!

Hope to see the rest of her story

Midnight Rain? YES!!

I'm working on it. I'm having surgery in a week so I'll have about 3 weeks of more downtime to get lots written and queued for posting :)

Thank you

I felt like she got the justification she needed.......but I can tell you now after you read that first Midnight Rain ch. 1, their world is upside down ;)

Read Chapter 1 here ;)

#chris evans x reader #chris evans characters #chris evans hot #chris evans x you #chris evans #chris evans fandom #cevansedit #steve rodgers x reader #midnight rain #chris evans mob boss #mafia!bucky #mafia!au #mafia!steve rogers #Mafia!chris evans x reader #mob boss series

[ohhsheet-blog-blog]

Can anyone help me find a fanfic? I can’t remember who wrote it or the name but It’s a mob Steve rogers fic. They get married in an arranged marriage and I remember her mother telling her to wake up and early make breakfast and her father wouldn’t let me have a phone and once he learns that he gets her a phone and starts teaching her Italian. If you know anything let me know. thanks!

#reader insert #steve rodgers x reader #mob!steve #mob Steve rogers x reader #help

[darbuckle21]

Who I write for

Bucky Barnes Steve Rodgers Tony Stark Loki Daryl Dixon Viktor Silco Brahms Heelshire Vincent Sinclair Poly! Ghostface (Stu and Billy) The Outsiders The lost boys Vance hopper (Black Phone) ( I will add more as I think of them)

Master list

Arcane

Sick Viktor X reader

Marvel

Welcome home (Bucky X reader)

Insomniac (Bucky X Reader)

But I knew him (BuckyX reader)

Dog House (Steve X reader)

The night we met (Bucky X reader)

Doing it all for love (Bucky X reader)

Haven’t I given enough? (Bucky X Reader)

I love when you talk (Bucky X Reader)

Hop Too (Tony Stark X reader)

First vs last (Loki X reader)

Girl crush (Steve Rodgers X reader)

The note (BuckyX reader)

I’m always by her side (Bucky X Reader)

Second choice (Steve X reader)

No not dearer than you (Bucky X reader)

PR with Mister Stark (Tony Stark X reader)

Need me? Beg (Tony Stark x crazy reader)

Winters coming (Mob! Bucky X reader)

Suicide hotline (Bucky X reader)

Night Night Metal Man (Tony Stark X reader)

The Walking Dead

Daryl X reader

My daughter (Daryl X reader)

Shopping Spree (Daryl X Fem! reader) NSFW

Slashers

Asking to draw slashers

gothic babe (Poly ghostface X reader)

Slashers X Alt S/O being catcalled

Slashers X S/O with an ED

Copy Cat Murder

Menace to society Stu X Reader 

Slashers with X therapist reader

Slashers X Curvy Shy reader (non-binary)

The Outsiders

Time to myself (Sodapop X reader)

#the avengers #slashers #the walking dead #arcane #tony stark #twd daryl #bucky x you #poly ghostface #vincent sinclair #brahms heelshire #stu matcher x reader #the outsiders #sodapop curtis

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Stucky | One Shot | Apologies

Part one to Cold

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Reader x Mob!Bucky

Plot: You have no idea how you got here and whether they have captured you, or it's you who has them captured.

Warnings: 18+. Smut and mentions of violence.

Words: 3,OOO

Rubbing your slightly sweaty palms down the soft fabric of the dress that is draped over your thighs under the table, your body freezes completely when you feel a cold sting to your spine and a strained gasp leaves your lips. As much as your brain is praying to you that it can’t possibly be what you think it is, you scold your naïve self for thinking it’s anything other than what it really is.

A knife.

Pressed to your spine with significant pressure, enough to know it could draw blood if you relax your posture. And you know he never leaves his knives to get blunt, the sounds of him sharpening his knife a fresh memory that pierces through your frazzled brain.

It’s a warning.

Laughter travels through the room, breaking you away from your thoughts, and you instantly join in to try and blend in with the situation. You assume that is what is expected of you when in reality, you just want to scream and run. No one can see you though in the back of the dark ballroom as a bright spotlight brightens the stage where people speech away the night as if the room isn’t filled with criminals.

Laughter travels through the room, breaking you away from your thoughts, and you instantly join in to try and blend in with the situation. You assume that is what is expected of you when in reality, you just want to scream and run. No one can see you though in the back of the dark ballroom as a bright spotlight brightens the stage where people speech away the night as if the room isn’t filled with criminals.

Laughter travels through the room, breaking you away from your thoughts, and you instantly join in to try and blend in with the situation. You assume that is what is expected of you when in reality, you just want to scream and run. No one can see you though in the back of the dark ballroom as a bright spotlight brightens the stage where people speech away the night as if the room isn’t filled with criminals.

Sat in the back with Barnes behind you and Rogers next to you behind the table as you’re twisted on your chair towards the stage, you bite your lip to the point where the taste of iron explodes over your tongue when you swipe it over your burst lip. You want to run so badly. You want to fight for your freedom. You’re feisty and powerful, what do you have to lose? They kill you? No. They’ll torture you. You can’t run. They won’t let you get away with it. These people are serious – you have seen them work.

You’re not one to judge. Criminals will always be there and you won’t stop them, knowing you quite simply can’t. But to be part of this organisation against your will and be their prisoner? Why on earth would you be okay with that? But you can’t run. Not in this ridiculous dress they put you in. Or with that knife pressed to your exposed spine.

Applause clatters around your ears and it makes you flinch and clap along instinctively. The large chandeliers above you slowly brighten up and the dinner party continues, loud chatter mixing with the swing band playing from the stage. You feel a sharp sting in your back, making you arch forward before quickly spinning in your chair to face the round table again.

From the corner of your eyes, you notice Bucky slip his knife into his chest pocket where he undoubtedly has a holster hidden, like most of the people attending this feast probably do. After running your fingers over the table cloth in deep thought, you suddenly quickly shoot up from your chair, feeling about seven pairs of curious eyes on you and two pairs of eyes burning holes in your dress as a warning.

“Excuse me.” You blurt out, eyes darting around frantically as you snatch your purse from the table “R-restroom.”

Quickly making your way out of the reverberating ballroom, you push through the heavy golden doors and almost stumble into the quiet hallway. You hadn’t noticed your shallow breathing yet, but you can’t stop moving. Not sure what it is exactly you are looking for, you wane your way through the classical building in search for anything that could help you.

Why you settled for the actual restrooms, you’re not sure.

Your heels click onto the clean marble and the door falls closed behind you, the soft sound of jazz music playing through the gracefully decorated ladies’ room. It’s beautiful. Golden decorations climbing up the walls to direct your eyes to the ethereal paintings on the ceiling, expensive soaps, towels and furniture making it seem like you could stay the night in the restrooms if you had to.

The building is like a castle in Versailles and you wish you could enjoy it more.

The sight that reflects back to you in the wide bathroom mirror shocks you. You barely recognise yourself. You had no idea you could look this much like… you belonged here. Draped with expensive jewellery, heels strapped to your ankles, a dress that looks more expensive than most buildings in the city and somehow you don’t drown in it. It suits you. It scares you how much it suits you.

You slowly twist and turn in front of the mirror to try and get used to this image of yourself, halting when a thick line of red on your exposed back catches your eye. You step in closer and realise that it’s a thick stripe of your own blood running into the back of your dress from where Bucky had pressed the knife into your skin. Your blood doesn’t quite get to reach its boiling point when two large men step inside of the ladies’ room.

Quickly pressing yourself into the counter and wishing upon any star that you could just disappear, part of you wants to grab them by the hair and slam their gorgeous faces into the mirror until all you see is blood.

“Jesus, Buck. You’re not supposed to actually hurt her.” Steve bellows angrily and strides over to you, roughly grabbing your arm and turning you sideways to inspect the sliver of blood on your back. Your eyes lock with Bucky’s and you can’t help but scowl at him, finding the courage to stand up for yourself after finding out Steve is pissed at him too.

“It’s just a scratch.” Bucky defends himself poorly and you lose it.

You dive forward, ready to strangle the broad man with anything you could get your hands on, but two strong arms grab your wrists and pull you into a big wall of muscle, locking your wrists in front of your chest. Steve’s breath tickles your neck as a deep chuckle leaves his lips, melting the ice-coated attack you had planned on his partner.

“I know, I know.” He coos, his temple attached to yours as both your eyes settle on Bucky, yours in fury, his in annoyance “You have every right to be pissed. So am I. This wasn’t the deal.” He directs his last words directly to Bucky, making him roll his eyes and huff as he crosses his arms over his chest. You grit your teeth at his dismissal and struggle in Steve’s hold again.

“Bucky…” Steve starts again, his voice an octave lower and thus making him sound a lot more threatening, making you stop struggling “If you don’t control yourself, you’ll be the one feeling my wrath with your own goddamn knife.”

His face turns to you again and you stiffen when his soft lips press to the shell of your ear “But he did break our rules about you, so I think I still get to punish him, don’t you think?” You stay quiet, terrified to say the wrong thing “And how about he makes it up to you with his punishment?”

His grip gently slips away from you and only now do you realise how comfortable it was to have the large, muscled man holding you so tightly. Goosebumps rise over your skin at the lack of his touch and your brain scrambles to puzzle together what is going on.

Slowly stepping around you and facing you, Steve gently takes your chin between his calloused fingers, making your eyes connect. His eyes are warm and gentle and for now, you trust him. But something tells you he’s the one to look out for in the long run.

As he steps forward, you have no choice but to follow his steps, walking backwards as you anticipate the marble counter hitting your behind. Not breaking eye contact with the large, blond man in front of you, you find yourself admitting you would comply to anything he orders you in this moment.

“I know you must be scared. I don’t think you’re wrong for that. You’re a clever girl for being scared of us.” His voice is low and his words come out like a promise. You’d recognise it for the threat it is, if you weren’t so completely lost in his essence.

Only now do you realise they have both shed their suit jackets and are standing in this beautiful bathroom with you in their tuxedo pants and their white, dress shirts with sleeves rolled up to below their elbows, exposing their tattoos and Bucky’s metal arm. Both of them are the perfect picture of their job description. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you are their next victim and they will strap you too a chair and torture you beyond sanity.

“But there’s a secret we haven’t told you yet, sweetheart.” Steve speaks again and you eyes dart to Bucky briefly, who is catching up to his friend, the two of them cornering you against the counter. If you turned around now, you’re sure the sight of you between these two powerful men would shock you even more than the previous image “You don’t know this yet, but you’re the only person that can bring us to our knees.”

A frown settles over your features at his words and you look at Bucky again, not finding an ounce of confusion on his face, or on Steve’s. You bite your lip and turn back to Steve with curious eyes. Your heart is pounding in your throat and you feel the earlier alcohol creating a red glow over your cheeks and neck. A fever runs through your body at the close proximity of the intimidating men and the million potential insinuations of their words. His next actions confuse you and you can barely comprehend them.

Steve’s left hand reaches up and grabs the back of Bucky’s neck, making Bucky face him “How about you make it up to our girl, huh?” Are his words before roughly forcing Bucky to his knees right in front of you.

Bucky smirks up at you, his hands wrapping around your firm legs before moving your dress up and grabbing your bare thighs in his hands, massaging your flesh with his strong fingers. You look down at him in anticipation, the sight of Bucky’s beautiful, perfect face so close to where you want him sending your heartbeat to throb between your legs.

It makes you feel powerful.

Steve’s fingers are still knotted into Bucky’s hair, taking reign of any movement of his head. You watch Bucky’s tongue run across his lips hungrily as his eyes settle on your black, lace panties. A warm hand on your cheek makes your eyes snap upwards to Steve’s as he smiles at you with mischief glimmering in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. Bucky will apologize for his terrible manners.”

You barely get to process Steve’s words before Bucky’s face is shoved between your legs with so much force, you almost jump to the ceiling. His warm mouth engulfs your pulsing clit through the lace of your underwear and you let out a broken whimper at the delicious intrusion, the warmth spreading from your core sending goosebumps over your skin.

As his mouth starts moving and lapping at you slowly, you feel your arousal pool through the flimsy fabric. It’s like he’s buried in a passionate kiss with your dripping pussy and he’s never had a kiss like that in his life.

Your hands fly to his thick hair as you hold him in place, a deep groan rumbling through Bucky’s chest at the action. You’re not entirely sure forcing a mob boss between your legs is very safe, but Bucky moves against you so expertly, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself if you wanted to.

Which you don’t -you don’t want to at all.

Steve’s deep chuckle at your actions riles you up even more, the realisation of the two dangerous men watching you as you get yourself off on one of their faces makes another gush of slick pour from your core.

Wide hands gripping your thighs, Steve’s and your hands forcing Bucky between your legs, Bucky humming against you as he moves your panties aside with his teeth and moves his mouth over your dripping pussy with so much fervour you almost buckle over -all of your thoughts leave your head.

Not sure if it’s you or Bucky that drapes your thigh over his shoulder, but it allows his tongue to delve into you as his nose nudges your clit and he hums in delight. Tugging at his hair to keep him close, your jaw falls slack and your breathing becomes more and more shallow.

“Oh God, Oh God, yes yes yes…” Your moans echo against the marble as your head falls back and your stomach tightens.

His flattened tongue licks up and circles your clit, followed by some harsh sucks that pull your muscles tighter. You can’t even follow Bucky’s movements anymore and if it wasn’t so goddamn good, you’d think he wasn’t even trying his best. He’s just licking and eating you out like it’s his last meal -like he is the one getting pleasure from this.

A large hand around your neck pulls your jugular to a pair of soft and scorching hot lips that belong to Steve and your body launches into overdrive, your hips bucking wantonly against Bucky’s skilled mouth and moans and whimpers rolling off your lips.

Clenching around his Bucky’s warm, wet muscle as it plunges into you and his thumbs rubbing into the apex of your thighs, you don’t know how much longer you can last. Not an ounce of you wants the two men to stop pleasing you, the weight of their bodies holding you in place as they pleasure you making you feel so desired, you want to explode.

“Fuck… I’m gonna- Gonna-” You interrupt yourself with a loud groan, pressing your hips to Bucky’s mouth roughly to chase the pleasure of your impending high.

The two men chuckle and you realise it’s all you and Bucky between your legs now, Steve’s hand having moved to play with your nipples through the fabric of your dress.

“Hmm, this dress was a good choice, huh?” Steve mumbles and leans in, pressing his hot mouth to your exposed chest “How does she taste, Buck? As good as we imagined?”

Bucky nods ardently against you, sending shock waves of pleasure through your clit and making you whimper “You have no idea. Now shut up, I want to make her come.” He growls against you and you didn’t know it was possible, but his actions accelerate so much, the way he devours you now has your knees buckling over. Which is exactly how you find out how strong he is, because you’re sure your feet aren’t even touching the floor anymore.

Gasps and whimpers leave your lips as you try to form words. But you simply can’t. Your muscles tense and tighten as your thighs tremble around Bucky’s head. Grinding yourself against Bucky’s face carelessly, Steve’s mouth is suddenly pressed against the shell of your ear again.

“How about you be a good girl and gush all over Bucky’s face, huh?” You don’t need him to tell you twice, because Bucky sucks at your clit so hard, he sucks the orgasm straight out of you and you sink down into him as pleasure crackles through every disc in your spine. It’s like a hot glow of sunlight bursts through your body, Bucky’s tongue working you through your high so well, you feel like you’re shaking and sobbing for a solid two minutes as your orgasm washes over you, two pairs of hands seemingly covering every inch of your skin as you spiral into insanity.

Bucky’s hums against your pussy and Steve’s praises of ‘good girl’, ‘just like that’ and ‘oh, look at you’ intensify your orgasm and you keen before your body grows pliant in their hold. Bucky slowly moves to a stand, making sure his grip remains on you to keep you up as you catch your breath.

All of a sudden, it’s Bucky standing in front of you, his chin glistening with your arousal.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl. Won’t hurt you again.” He mumbles and presses his lips to yours, the daze of your orgasm making you kiss him back with a slack jaw and a dazzled hum. You taste yourself on his lips, but he’s such a fantastic kisser, you can’t help but chase his lips. When he pulls away from the kiss and leans in to whisper in your ear, you’re sure Steve doesn’t hear his next words “Unless it gets you to ride my face like that again of course.”

You don’t really get to process his words at all, before Steve butts in again, tearing your eyes from Bucky’s intense, blue ones to the darker blue, but kind ones.

“Let’s get you home, alright?” He gives you a warm smile as he caresses your flushed cheek. The two men stare down at you with admiration and promise “If we’re going to make you come all night, you’ll need a bed.”

#OHHHH I'LL BE EXPLORING THIS FURTHER #not me turning myself on with this piece of SCHMUT #shiiiiit #enjoy my lovelies #WHAT DO YOU THINK?!!? #mob!stucky #mob!stucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #oneshot #writing #smut #marvel smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #steve rodgers x you #steve rodgers smut #steve rodgers x reader #steve rodgers x reader smut #steve x you x bucky #mob!bucky #mob!steve #stucky #stucky smut #Apologies #e to l

[marie-hoe]

Welcome Week

Mob!Stucky x Reader (a part 2 to 'Our Girl')

Warnings: smut, 18+, NOT POLY; Mob!Stucky, reader x steve, reader x bucky, oral, penetration, knee riding, thigh riding, degradation, slight spanking, daddy,

Words: 2943

Requested: by my coochie @spookyparadisesheep

masterlist

A week had gone by since you met Bucky and Steve. Your friend vowed to never let you live it down- being double penetrated in a nightclub while hundreds of people danced beneath you unknowingly. It was the most scandalous thing she had ever known you to do, and it secretly got her off as well.

But what you didn't tell her, was the string of chants and promises you elicited about being their "good little cock slut." She knew you had grown more distant than usual with her, but decided it was probably because you started seeing someone. What you didn't tell her wouldn't hurt her.

She was nearly right anyways. You had been seeing someone. You had been seeing two someones. Two of the richest, sexiest, horniest, and albeit most dangerous men in town... in the state.

The two men had come together to arrange for you to have a house the same distance away from each of their mansions and even closer to their offices. You had stayed there the past few nights, deciding whether or not you would give up your apartment and stay there permanently, and each night was spent with a different man.

The first night Steve came over. Knocking on the front door, he stood waiting for you to answer it with flowers in his arms. He certainly could have walked in, but he wanted to be chivalrous before bending you over the leather arm of the couch he and Bucky had flown in from Venice and fucked you until you were crying to cum.

"Hi, Stevey," you sang as you saw the flowers, taking them into your grasp to inhale their scent. He followed you inside, eyeing the couch as you filled a vase to put the flowers in.

"Hi, Angel. Did ya miss me?" He asked as you came back into the living room, snapping him out of his thoughts.

You hummed a response, pulling his hand over to the couch to sit in his lap. He moaned softly as you sat down, and you could instantly feel that his cock was rock hard.

"Did you miss me, sir?" You asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him as you wiggled slightly as to get comfortable on his lap.

He placed his hands on your hips, stilling your actions, and let out a sigh. "Darling, did you want to have a nice dinner or did you want me to ruin you right here?" He asked as his thumbs rubbed circles on the material of the thin cotton shorts you were wearing.

You blushed softly at his words, still not used to his way with words despite being fucked at least two times every day since meeting them. You looked around, to the couple of men that followed him inside your house. His security goons. He saw you looking at them, with your bottom lip between your teeth, and placed a hand around your jaw, pulling your lip out of the grasp of your rigid teeth with his thumb. "Don't worry Sweetheart, they won't look," he whispered huskily as he leaned his bearded face closer to yours and kissed you slowly. "Unless you want them to," he added, a smirk plastered on his face as a soft moan escaped your mouth accidentally.

You deepened the kiss, pulling Steve closer to you by his tie and ground your hips down into his cock-- a silent 'yes.' Groaning, he allowed his hands to travel their way down the expanse of your body.

His big, calloused hands skimmed their way over the curvature of your covered breasts, down your back, around your clothed ass, and went back up to land on the waistband of your shorts. He held the band back with one hand and inserted the other into the barrier, fingers dancing along the fabric over your pussy lips before sliding it out of the way and feeling how wet you were.

He pulled his lips away from you, bringing his finger up to your lips and put it inside your mouth. You closed your swollen lips around the finger, tongue dancing along every inch available as you tasted how sweet you were.

Groaning, Steve used his free hand to push your shorts down, which was quickly followed by your shirt. Now, you only wearing your panties, you felt self-conscious of the goon squad standing around you. You glanced around, making sure their eyes were diverted, and Steve took the opportunity to undo his buttons, pulling his shirt off before heading to his tie.

"No, leave it on," you said softly as you brought a hand to his tie.

Steve smirked, leaning back as your fingers danced around the fabric and pulled on it softly. You came back up to his face and left a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Darling, I had a long day, why don't you do me a favor," he suggested as he lifted his hips up into your covered, yet soaked cunt.

Biting your lip, you began to scoot your way back, in order to get on your knees, but his hands came down to your hips, pulling you back up. "Nuh-uh, Darling. I don't want you to use your mouth tonight," he whispered into your ear, hot breathe fanning your neck as he licked up from the base of your neck to the shell of your ear.

Moaning softly, you whined, hips bucking at the thought. You sat up on his thigh, cock just in front of your cunt, and he flexed his thigh. You began grinding yourself on his thigh, brushing against his cock ever so softly, as you held onto his tie, using it for stability.

Quickly, the both of you were a panting mess. You raised yourself up slightly, seeing the wet patch you had left on his thigh right below the wet patch he had created with his precum-soaked cock.

You groaned, pouting at him. "I want you. I need you, daddy please."

He sighed as your hips bucked again, and he ignored your pleas as he pushed you back slightly, clit level with his knee, as he began bouncing his knee.

The air knocked out of you, you groaned, tears brimming your eyes as you were desperate to feel his cock within your wet walls before you came. "Please... daddy," you groaned with every jerk to your clit.

Abruptly, he stopped. He unzipped his pants, pulled his cock out, and moved you to straddle his cock, back against his chest. He didn't say a word as he pushed himself into your soaking core, groaning as he felt the muscles loosen and welcome him and then contract around him in pleasure.

You gasped, trying to lift your body up to bounce on his cock, but he stopped you. With his hands on each hip, pushing you into his cock, you began to whine again. "Dadd-"

"Shut the fuck up and sit on my big dick," he growled as he shoved three fingers into your mouth.

He kept you there for a minute, a hand leaving your hips to attend to his phone, which seemed to be blowing up with emails. You grew bored of not having his attention and clenched your pussy, causing him to hiss, but not alter his focus.

So you tried something else and you ground your pussy down into him, circling around as you licked around his fingers and played with his tie again.

He huffed, threw the phone to the floor, and stood up, holding you against him so tightly your cunt never left his dick. "Had something come up, honey, gonna have to go deal with it."

He walked to the side of the couch with you, bending you over the leather arm as he planned when he knocked on the door, and wasted no time before pounding relentlessly into your cunt. His fingers circled your clit while the thumb of his free hand pressed against your tight hole, knowing how much you loved feeling full to the brim.

"Such a brat though, I probably shouldn't even let you cum," he taunted as you moaned and threw your hips back to meet his thrusts. Eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, you felt his hand leave your tight hole and grab your jaw harshly, pulling it back for you to look back at him. "Look at me, angel. Do you think I should let you cum, cock slut?"

You groaned, nodding furiously as his fingers pressed harder onto your clit.

"Answer me, angel, you know I don't like being ignored. Should I let my cock slut cum?"

"Yes!" You yelled as you began to feel yourself getting closer to your release.

He raised a hand, letting it fall harshly and slap your ass as it bounced back on his cock, "Yes, what? I'm not sure I know what my dumb cock drunk angel is referring to."

"Yes! Daddy, please. Please let me cum? I'm a good cock slut!"

He groaned as he felt your pussy clench around his cock, releasing his into you as he let your jaw go and began rubbing your body soothingly.

He pulled out of you, bending down to lick the mess up right out of your cunt, making your thighs tremble at the sensation. He picked you up, carrying you in his arms back to your room before he had to leave. On the way back, you glanced back to the goon squad, every eye still starring straight ahead of them.

And the next night Bucky had come over.

He came over and walked right in, announcing his arrival with, "Doll, I'm home!

Down the hall, you bound, jogging to meet him. He smiled upon seeing your face, arms opened to catch you as you jumped in his arms. You kissed him a welcome, and his hands gripped your ass.

He deepened the kiss, not allowing you to breathe very much as his tongue prodded into your mouth and fingers snaked around your ass cheeks and up to your cunt. Moaning, he pulled away, letting the both of you breathe for a moment as he lifted your ass up and lowered it ever so slightly on his cock, letting you feel how hard he had grown in the short time he had walked in.

"Do you feel what you do to me, doll?" He whispered to you, breath fanning your face as you moaned and attempted grinding your hips back down to his length.

Bucky brought you to the bedroom, laying you down on the California King Mattress he had bought for you adorned with the finest sheets money could buy, and pulled your clothes off of your body slowly, teasing every inch of skin he could get his lips on.

You felt yourself growing wetter by the second, breath hitching in your throat as you watched him kiss down the length of your calf, only to stick his tongue out and lick the expanse from your knee up to where you needed him the most.

Your hips bucked, hand trying to push him closer to your pussy, but he was stronger. He pulled away, sitting up in front of you, and laughed. "Be patient, doll face. I'm going to take good care of you," he mumbled as he pulled his clothes off, leaving you both naked.

You watched as his cock sprang out of his underwear and hit his abdomen, suddenly aware of how wet you were both between your hips and in your mouth. He laughed again, tilting your chin up to his face with a finger. "Face is up here, doll."

He leaned down, kissing you sweetly before trailing kisses down your neck, leaving licks every now and then. He kissed his way down your chest as he pinched your nipples harshly, back arching to meet his embrace. Fingers abandoning your nubs, he replaced them with his mouth. He began licking around the nubs, sucking on them slightly, before biting on them and pulling them back harshly, watching as your back arched and face contorted from pure pleasure to painful pleasure, a smirk growing on your face with the added pain.

Watching you made his cock twitch against your thigh, making you want to reach a hand down to help him out, but he grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head.

His lips continued their journey, kissing down your stomach, licking back up, and then leaving wet kisses back down on his way to your pussy. Your hips received nips, teeth lightly scraping at the flesh before his tongue licked over the spots.

He brought his hands down, looking at you to tell you to leave your hands where they were, before pushing your thighs apart. He licked the expanse of where your thighs meet your pubic bone, kissing spots dangerously close to your pussy lips, but not touching you yet.

All the while, the teasing had caused you to begin dripping with wet slick. You were sure it was oozing out of your cunt and down to the bed, and you were proven right when he licked up from your asshole to your clit slowly, taking in every drop.

Once he reached the top, he brought his head up to kiss you, tongue injecting itself directly into your mouth, as if it had claimed it for its own.

"Taste so good," he muttered against your lips before going back between your hips.

He was laid down on his stomach, cock pressed into the mattress, as he licked at your clit. The bundle of nerves sending shockwaves through your body as it was finally receiving the love it deserved and so badly needed.

With your body twitching at every lap of the tongue, Bucky smirked up at you, two fingers slipping right into your warm, wet walls. Your hands flung to his hair, grasping it as your moans flew out of your mouth without a second thought.

He continued with your clit, lightly biting it every few moments, while his fingers plunged into your pussy, curving just enough to hit your G-Spot every single time.

Between the sensation and the teasing beforehand, you were close to your breaking point, fingers raking against Buck's back and in his hair as your hips mindlessly bucked against his fingers and tongue. You felt yourself break and cum all over his fingers, his tongue leaving your clit momentarily to lick it all up.

As you calmed yourself down, you looked back down to Bucky, still rubbing circles on your clit as he watched you orgasm from below, and realized he wasn't done with you yet.

He lowered his head back down, now a finger caressing the tight muscle below your cunt as his tongue fit itself inside your pussy walls.

Your head flung back into the pillow below you, hand grabbing the sheets as the other grabbed onto the short hair on his head, "Oh, fuck, Bucky."

He brought his tongue out of you, spat harshly on his finger toying with your ass, and shoved it in. "What was that, doll?"

You groaned, hips rotating upwards as you realized your mistake, "fuck, daddy. I'm sorry daddy. Please fuck me."

He watched as you begged, kissing your stomach before removing his finger from your hold and lining himself up to your cunt.

He grabbed the back of your neck before pushing himself inside of you, moving up closer to your face, "kiss it first."

You did as you were told. You reached your tongue out to reach the dick, licking the tip before Bucky brought it closer to your face. You kissed the tip of his dick, tongue flattening around his tip as you looked directly into his eyes. You quickly tried fitting his length in your mouth, only to be pulled off with a 'pop.'

"Dirty slut, I said to kiss it," he spat at you as he lowered himself back down and flipped you around to your stomach. He pulled you up to all fours, shoving your head down on the mattress as he lined his cock up and pushed into you.

He moaned as you whined, feeling his girth stretch your pussy walls perfectly. "Gotta fuck my slut like the dirty whore she is," he said as he pushed his length in and out of you harshly, snapping his hips against yours devilishly fast.

You groaned at the feeling and tried your best to keep up with his pace, meeting his hips with your ass.

He grabbed your hair, pulling you up to straighten your back. Now, with your back flush against his chest, he whispered into your ear while his cock kept pumping in and out of you, "gonna cum in this pussy. It's my pussy isn't it?"

You groaned, nodding your head as best as you could with the grip he had on your hair, and responded, "yes, daddy. It's all yours."

He hummed in response, nipping at your neck as he wrapped a hand around your body to rub your clit again-- the sign that he was close to coming. "no one fucks this pussy like I do. Not even Steve, right doll face?"

You groaned, your pussy clenching on his cock as you broke through your second orgasm that night. "No-not ev-even Steve, da-daddy," you struggled to get out as his thrusts became ragged and you felt his cock twitch inside you, cum spurting up into your cunt.

He calmed himself down, breathing heavily as he pulled out of you and walked to the bathroom, running a bath. "Come on, doll. Let's have a bath before we go to bed."

#stucky #mob!stucky #mob!steve #mob!bucky #mob!steve rovers #mob!bucky barnes #steve rodgers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #stucky x reader #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #written by marie

[lvrdrafts]

Rescued by Love Part 3

★ Summary: Your brother Steve always hated you after your mother's death and when he finally gets the family's empire he is ready to sell you off to some toxic marriage but will the knight and shining armor save you or make it worse?

★ Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

★ Warnings: Arranged Marriage

★ Genre: Angst/ Fluff

Masterlist

The transition from your childhood home to Bucky's mansion felt like stepping into a different world. The ornate decor and vast rooms were a far cry from the modest surroundings you were accustomed to. As you unpacked your belongings, the air seemed to carry a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

One evening, as the soft glow of the setting sun cast warm hues across the room, Bucky found you standing by the window. His presence was like a shadow, his steps quiet as he joined you.

"Y/N," he started, his voice a mix of hesitation and sincerity, "I want you to know that I never intended for things to be this way."

You turned to him, uncertainty clouding your gaze. "Then why did you agree to this arrangement, Bucky?"

He sighed, his gaze averted for a moment before meeting yours. "It's complicated. There are things... expectations that I can't ignore."

Your heart sank at his words, the gravity of the situation becoming clearer. "You mean, being a housewife and having children."

Bucky's expression softened, regret evident in his eyes. "It's more than that, Y/N. I'm trying to protect you, in my own messed-up way. But playing the role is.. its on the list"

The weight of his words settled upon you, a reminder that your identity had been reduced to that of a housewife, devoid of agency or aspirations. You felt your voice falter as you spoke. "Is that all I am to you, Bucky? A role to play?"

His eyes seemed to harden, the distance between you growing more tangible. "It's a role that benefits both of us. There's no point in pretending otherwise." Bucky says walking away.

The isolation settled in like an unwelcome guest, the mansion's halls echoing with a silence that seemed to underscore your solitude. Days blurred into one another, marked by routines that grew monotonous. The mansion became a symphony of routines, from managing the household to preparing meals that you hoped Bucky would enjoy. Your attempts to prepare meals went unnoticed, the table often empty as Bucky's absence stretched into hours.

The hours slipped away, the warmth of the meal gradually turning cold. When Bucky finally walked in, his exhaustion was evident, his gaze weary yet conflicted.

When he finally walked in one evening, exhaustion etched into his features, you found yourself facing a moment of truth. The meal you had prepared lay untouched on the table, a visual representation of the growing void between you. The sight of a hickey on his neck was a dagger to your heart, the sting of jealousy and hurt almost overwhelming.

"You're home late," you managed to say, your voice a mixture of accusation and vulnerability.

Bucky's eyes flicked to the untouched meal, his jaw clenching momentarily. "I got caught up in work."

The tension in the room was palpable, unspoken words heavy in the air. Accusations and retorts seemed to dance on the tip of your tongue, but it was the realization that your relationship had deteriorated beyond repair that cut deepest.

As the conversation escalated, your emotions erupted like a tempest. "Is this what we've become, Bucky? Strangers passing each other in the hallway, playing house without any semblance of connection?"

Bucky's gaze remained fixed on the ground, his emotions masked by a veneer of indifference. "You knew the terms of this arrangement from the beginning."

The words echoed in the room, a bitter reminder of your lack of agency in this situation. "Yes, I remember the terms, be a maid and have kids" you replied, your voice carrying a tinge of bitterness. "But it wasn't a choice, Bucky. I didn't agree willingly; I was forced"

Bucky's eyes hardened, his expression unforgiving. "We all make sacrifices. This is the life we've chosen."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you met his gaze, a mixture of frustration and pain in your voice. "But I didn't choose this. I didn't choose to be treated as a prisoner in this fucking cage."

He turned to face you fully, his gaze cold and unyielding. "Don't play the victim, Y/N. You knew what you were getting into."

"I can't give you something I don't have. I won't pretend for your sake. This is our arrangement, and you will abide by it, that's final"

The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. "Really is it really so much to ask for a bit of care? Or that you pretend your not cheating on me? Or is that too much to expect?"

Bucky's features darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Watch your words, Y/N. You're playing a dangerous game."

The tension between you was palpable, the unspoken resentments and long-buried desires bubbling to the surface. "So, this is our fate? A loveless marriage, a distant husband, and a life that's become a hell?"

Bucky's restraint snapped, his expression twisted with rage. "Enough, Y/N! You can't pretend you didn't know what this was all about! Your brother made damn sure of that!"

Fury ignited within you, burning through the fear that had held you captive for too long. "Fuck you, Bucky," you spat, your voice trembling with a mix of rage and desperation. You turned on your heel and walked away, determined not to let him see the tears welling up in your eyes.

But as you moved to leave, Bucky's grip on your wrist was like a vise, his fingers digging into your skin. A gasp escaped your lips as he left behind a painful mark, a physical reminder of the power he held over you. You winced, struggling against his hold, but his grip only tightened.

"Bucky, let go!" you cried out, a mixture of pain and fear coursing through you.

He released you, his jaw clenched, his eyes cold and unrelenting. With a rough push, he shoved you, and you stumbled, unable to maintain your balance. The force of his actions sent you crashing to the floor, pain shooting through your body as you hit the ground.

"Sleep on the damn couch tonight," he bit out, his voice seething with anger as he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, aching both physically and emotionally.

The couch felt like a cold and unforgiving bed as you lay there, tears staining your cheeks as you tried to make sense of the shattered pieces of your life. You needed to find a way out.

★

The morning light spilled into the kitchen, illuminating the room as you moved around, preparing breakfast with a sense of quiet resignation. The clinking of utensils and the sizzle of food filled the air, a routine you had grown accustomed to. As you set the plates on the table, Bucky's presence entered the room, his demeanor more cold and irritated than usual.

"Morning," you greeted softly, the tension between you practically palpable.

Bucky grunted in response, his eyes scanning the table briefly before landing on you. "We need to talk."

You tensed, your heart beating a little faster. His abruptness was unsettling, and you braced yourself for whatever news he was about to deliver.

"I'm leaving on a business trip," he stated curtly, his tone devoid of any warmth.

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden announcement. "A business trip?"

He nodded, his jaw tight. "Yes, for about a month."

"During my absence," he continued, his gaze unwavering, "you are not allowed to leave the house."

The words hung in the air, a heavy decree that seemed to echo with finality. You felt a surge of frustration and helplessness, the walls of the mansion closing in around you.

"But Bucky, I..." you started, your voice tinged with a mix of defiance and desperation.

He cut you off, his irritation was evident in his tone. "I don't want to hear your excuses, Y/N. This is not up for negotiation."

Anger simmered within you, but it was the realization of your powerlessness that hit you the hardest. The isolation, the restrictions – they were a stark reminder of the gilded cage you found yourself in.

"I have my own life, my own dreams," you retorted, the bitterness in your voice impossible to mask.

Bucky's gaze hardened, his jaw clenched. "This is not the time for your idealistic notions, Y/N."

The exchange left an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air, the weight of your conflicting emotions settling heavily upon you. You pushed back your frustration, not wanting to provoke him further, not wanting to feel the repercussions of his anger.

As the minutes ticked by, you realized the futility of arguing. The walls seemed to close in around you, the mansion's rooms feeling more suffocating than ever.

Bucky pushed his chair back, his expression unreadable. "I've said what I needed to say. Make sure you follow the rules while I'm gone."

He stood up, and as he walked over to the counter to pour himself a mug of coffee, you couldn't help but feel his gaze linger on you. You felt a flush of discomfort, your instinct to hide the evidence of last night's altercation kicking in. You had chosen to wear long sleeves in an attempt to cover up the bruise he had unknowingly left on your wrist.

For a moment, his eyes seemed to narrow, his gaze drawn to your attempt at concealment. You avoided his gaze, focusing on the table instead, your heart pounding in your chest. He reached for his coffee, his fingers brushing against the handle of the mug as his voice broke the silence.

"I'll be leaving tomorrow," he said, his tone still cold and distant. "There are some things you need to take care of while I'm gone. I'll leave you a list."

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. The tension in the room felt suffocating, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You could feel his gaze on you, an unspoken awareness that hung heavy in the air. The weight of your bruises, both physical and emotional, seemed to press down on you as he left the room without another word.

Taglist:

@cjand10 @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @hereticdance @kentokaze @bruher @tupperwarefullofdirt @unaxv @learisa @emerald-writes @aya-fay @stinkerbelle007 @scifinerd1818 @paarthurnax59

#bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x reader angst #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky au #mob bucky x you #mob bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #mob steve rodgers x reader #x reader angst #steve rodgers sister x bucky

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

THE MEETING- STUCKY X READER

Pairing: CEO! Stucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: Your boss Mr. Rogers is a mean mean man, but you find he has a sweet spot- just for you. Perks of the job? He’s hot. And his best friend is too. ;)

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, pet names, size kink, choking, fingering, shoe riding, slapping, spitting, ring kink, masturbation with Y/N’s panties oop- ,praise kink, degradation kink, squirting, daddy/ sir kink, this is pure filth LMAO

Notes: This is SO filthy. Probably the filthiest thing I’ve ever written. Also Steve and Bucky are both 6′4 with tattoos. Yes I am a whore. Buckle in tight hotties!!

-claire 

The sound of your heels echoed through the stone-cold hallway, bouncing off the crisp white ceilings back onto the marble floor. Calls being answered, fax machines printing, keys being clicked were all muffled behind closed doors. Floor-to-ceiling windows guide you to your main objective, Steve’s office.

 Steve Rogers, the CEO of Rogers Industries.

 Intimidating wasn't even the right word to describe him, he was- something else. Something you couldn't quite explain. His deep voice was enough to make you tremble at the knees, his ice cold stare seemed to pierce right through your soul. It was enough to make you gaze over at the city that bustled below you, allowing the trickle of the rain that splattered down the windows to distract you from the thoughts of what lingered behind the massive door the loomed ahead of you at the end of the hall. 

Yes, he was a rather frightening man, but he paid well. Not to mention he looked like a god Eros had carved himself. Some of his employees had warned you of the man when you came in for your interview, whispering things to you as you walked towards this very office. 

He was demanding. He could be cruel. He scarred any man who glance his way for a second too long. 

Yet here you were, as his personal assistant. With a hard glance over your resume, a few questions asked and a background check for good measure, you were getting fetching his daily coffee and scheduling his meetings. You had worked for the man a long time, you knew his moods and his actions well. He was a hard book to read, closed firmly with a lock and key- but you had managed to read his body language well enough. 

Which is exactly why you were shitting bricks currently, knowing exactly how he would react to the news you had to bring him.

 Steve's number one enemy wanted a meeting with him, as soon as possible to discuss stats and stock targets. Rumlow was a handful, and powerful men like Steve did not want to deal with him. But someone had to. And that sure as hell would not be you. 

With a deep breath and a prayer to the heavens above, you attempted to stabilise your shaking hand as you knocked lightly on the mahogany door. “Come in.” a gruff voice sounded from the other side of the door, and you obeyed. With a creak, you popped your head in to see Steve hang up the phone, head nodding for you to shut the door behind you. “ Mr. Rogers.” you nodded quickly in acknowledgement, fingers toying with the paperwork you had in your hands from nerves. 

“ Can I help you Miss.Y/L/N?” You step over to his large desk quickly, his eyes glancing up from his paperwork to meet yours, gaze hard and cold. “ Just need these signed.” He nodded once and you set them down on top of the other papers he had scattered across his desk gingerly. He looked up once more.

 “ Anything else?” Steve’s voice was laced with annoyance, and you carefully took a step back, heels sounding like gunshots against the marble. 

“ I- um. Well yes actually sir, Mr. Rumlow wanted-” The room was dead silent, so quiet you swore he could hear your heart threatening to hammer out of your chest. “ Mr. Rumlow wanted what?” His voice was calm and collected, cool as ice. 

Too calm. A storm was brewing, and you didn't want to be around for the aftermath.

 “ He um. He wanted to have a meeting with you concerning clients Friday evening.” you trailed off, noticing his hands clench harder around the pen he wrote with, signing off his name with a scribble. “ Fine. That will be all Y/L/N.” Steve handed you back your papers, fingers touching yours. You shivered at the contact, snatching them quickly. “ Thank you sir.” 

Flustered with his presence, you quickly scurried out of the room, shutting the door behind you with a click. 

Was it hot in here? It was definitely hotter. The heat had been cranked up for sure. 

Gripping the papers tight to your chest, you wasted no time getting back to your desk, away from the door you were currently leaning against. Steve Rogers was a very powerful man. Very powerful indeed. Fear swirled in your gut, along with something else. 

Admiration? Arousal?

 Whatever it is, you craved it. As you plopped down in your chair, kicking your legs up on your desk there was only one thing on your mind. 

Him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was wrong. It was selfish. It was stupid.

 But God help him, he was attracted to you. Ever since you had stepped foot in his office, head held high and proud, he had been captivated by your essence. Every day it was becoming harder and harder to focus on his work whenever you came in to give him the rundown for the day, or to get papers signed. His thoughts swirled with the thought of you. And the way you looked today… the control was getting harder and harder to rein in by second. 

The way your breasts popped out slightly from the white blouse you wore when you leaned over to hand him the papers, the way your tiny hand brushed his, the way your ass was framed perfectly in that pencil skirt. And the way you reacted to him, don’t even get him started on that. The way you’d say “sir”, the way you’d get flustered and fidgety when he stared at you for too long. It made his cock twitch in his pants. 

Steve had so much control over you, it made him feel like a teenage boy all over again. You’d be so obedient for him, such a good girl, moldable as putty in his ring-littered hands.

 The strain was too much. He couldn’t take it anymore.

 Checking to make sure the door was firmly locked, and curtains were drawn shut, he riffled through papers upon his desk and found his keys which gained him access to his drawers. Inserting the key in the lock, he opened his bottom drawer, containing his most prized possessions. 

With a sigh, he pulled out the black lace thong he snagged from your locker a few weeks prior after hours. Palming himself over his slacks, he brought the fabric up to his nose, letting out a moan as your scent wafted through his nose. 

Steve wasted no time unbuttoning his pants, eyes rolling back as he inhaled again, his cock springing free, heavy and hard in his hand.

 The way you’d beg for him, hand and knees as he ruthlessly pounded into you, the noises and whimpers you’d make as he’d lick your pussy, sucking firmly on your little bud… he began to pump faster. 

Steve needed you, more than he needed anything in his life. You were his for the taking. His. No one else’s. No one else could treat you the way you deserved, no one could make you wither and buck your hips up in pleasure as he could. 

You were so small compared to him, he pin you down across his desk with ease, fuck you so hard he was in your guts. 

With a grunt, he came all over his hand, pants emitting from his parted lips as he came down from his high.

 You were going to be his, he decided. If you liked it or not. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The meeting was a mess. You could tell by the way Rumlow stormed out of the conference room, spewing out every curse word in the book. “ You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Steve's right-hand man Bucky called after him, rolling his eyes with a huff.

 “ Hey dolly, how have ya been?” he asked, jogging over to the couch you were sitting on. You had decided it was a good idea if you stayed late tonight, getting Steve his usual coffee and calming him down after the meeting. Nothing but nerves coursed through your body after seeing Rumlow’s little act, you were perched at the edge of your seat, legs bouncing with anticipation. 

“M’good Mr. Barnes. Did it go okay?” you smiled weakly up at him and he nodded. “ Don’t worry your pretty little head bout it. Steve will be out soon.” he cooed, rubbing his hand on your shoulder gently. “Okay.” you murmured, hands flitting with the hem of your pencil skirt, your nylons feeling like a second skin as you twiddled nervously. 

“ I’ll see ya around doll.” he winked and you waved with a smile as he turned down the hall to go to his office. 

Click.

 The door opened slowly, and your gaze slithered over to Steve, stepping slowly out the room with a huff. His white button-down was ruffled, his tie loosened and his dark blue suit undone.

 “Did it go good?” you hurried out of your seat to examine the man, your worried gaze flickering over him for any injuries. Rumlow could get quite violent when things didn't go his way, and more than once did you see little bruises coat Steve’s knuckles. 

“It was shit. As planned. Why are you still here Y/N?” he asked quietly, and you looked up to meet his cool gaze. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” you murmured, fingers itching to fix the white handkerchief that spilled out of his suit pocket. Unprofessional! Your mind screamed at you, and you quickly placed your hands at your sides as if you had been electrocuted. His eyebrow raised suspiciously, and you stared down at the ground. 

You were fucked. Utterly fucked. 

You realised how vulnerable you looked, waiting for him to finish the meeting, looking over him like a mother hen. 

But Steve didn't tell you to go home. He didn't tell you that you were being unprofessional. A small little smile gleamed on his face as he saw your cheeks redden.

 “ That’s very sweet buttercup.” 

Your legs clenched at the nickname, the way it rolled off his tongue. Steve’s voice was so deep, so full of control and command, you’d do anything he asked of you. You wondered if it was the same way in the bedroom, if he’d be rough and mean, or if he’d whisper praises in your ear as you’d take all of him, his girth stretching you out…

 “ Come.” 

It wasn’t a question or an invitation,  it was a command. You obediently trailed behind him as he turned to walk down the hallway, his long strides causing you to nearly jog to keep up. Steve was much taller than you, sometimes breaking his mean demeanour to tease at your size compared to his. He was 6’4 and built of pure muscle, always towering over you. Even with the heels you wore, giving you an extra inch of height, you only met his upper chest. 

It was quiet as the two of you made way to his office, the only noise being the sound of your flats clicking, as you strived to match his pace. You felt even smaller compared to him with no heels, no boost of confidence through the height. 

Peering up at him, you wondered if he knew that, if he knew his size made you feel small and sometimes even frightened. 

Like now. 

You had no idea what he would do or say in his office after that meeting, and you were terrified. The door lingered at the end of the hallway like a beacon. 

There was no rain today, you noted, the sky dark. Moonlight shimmered through the windows, the city glowing under you. 

What would happen behind closed doors? You wondered, getting closer and closer to the end of the hallway.

 You were soon to find out, it seemed. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the coffee you had planted on his desk during the meeting. “ I figured you’d want something after that, I know how annoying Rumalow is. It’s probably cold now. I'm sorry I can go to warm it up.” 

You trotted over to his desk to pick up the drink, but a firm, large hand was placed atop yours. His blue eyes softened at the sight of you, and he shook his head.

 “ No need buttercups. Thank you.”

 Feathers were the only thing you could think of as he murmured his appreciation, Steve's voice seemed gentler, somehow. Still deep and rough yes, but when he spoke to you now, it was softer. Almost as if he was scared you’d leave him alone in his office.

 His gaze was so intense you thought you were drowning in the baby blues, the way the dim lights placed around the room made them glow. Flickering down you noticed the rings on his fingers, the chill they gave you as he stroked your hand slowly. 

Suddenly, he loosened his tie even more, rolling up the sleeves of his button-down. You were dumbstruck. 

Holy. Fuck. 

His toned arms were littered with tattoos, they wrapped around his forearm and arms, curling up to his biceps. Realising you were staring, you averted your gaze back up to meet his face, stumbling back slightly. He smirked. 

The bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing. 

This was wrong, very wrong, but you couldn’t move. Steve’s finger beckoned you over to his side of the desk, a gleam in his eye. You swallowed. 

Oh shit. 

Slowly, you made your way over, Steve standing behind you, contempt. A hand came up to drape your hair across your shoulder, causing you to shudder. Goosebumps broke out across your skin as you were now very aware of how little fabric was separated between the two of you. 

“Reactive little thing aren’t you?” he murmured softly in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck.

 Steve's firm hands slid up to stroke your sides gently with his fingers, his touch captivating you. Your brain was turning to mush at his presence, and you were scared to open your mouth because you knew a jumbled mess would come out.

 “ If I tell you a secret, can you keep it buttercup? Just something for the two of us honey?” You nodded frantically. You’d do anything he asked of you, you decided, feeling any dry spot on your panties disappear. “ Every single day at this very desk, I think of all the things I want to do to you. How you’d take everything I give you like a good girl.” He nipped at your neck, kissing the bite mark and you whimpered. 

“ You’ll be such a good girl for me won’t you honey? You wanna make Mr. Rogers happy?” You moaned at his words alone. 

“Yes sir.” you panted and a growl rumbled through his throat, causing you to shiver again.

 Rising to his full height, he grasped your chin in his hand, jerking it up so you peered up at him, eyes frantic. “Open.” His thumb brushed against your bottom lip and you obeyed. Looking down on you, he smiled at your obedience. 

“ You obey so quickly button. Just wanna please me hm?” 

Moans escaped your mouth as he spits on your tongue, rubbing the pad of his thumb on your tongue to mix his saliva with yours. Clenching around nothing, you began to get desperate.

You couldn’t help it.

 The sight of him above you, the feeling of his thumb on your tongue, the waterworks start to flow. Peering up at him, you began to let the tears slowly drip down your flushed cheeks as he continued to smear his saliva across your lips. Tears began to mix with spit, and you feel mascara slowly start to stain your cheeks. 

A deep chuckle rumbled through him as he looked at your desperate state below him. “ You’re so pretty when you cry little buttercup. Tell daddy what you need.”

 “N-need you down there please need you!” you mewled, beginning to suck on his thumb, swirling your tongue around it. “Down where honey? Down at your little nub? You need the pleasure relieved?” He tsked, bringing his hand down to trace a finger on your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to your aching cunt. You nearly moaned at the relief of his finger being so near. Steve began to inch closer and closer, fingers just brushing the fabric of your panties. It sent jolts through your body, and you jumped. 

He tsked again, twisting your around to face him and hoist you onto the desk. A gasp left your lips as his hands began to inch off your thong, the cool air on your cunt making you sensitive. “These clothes just won’t do buttercup.” he shoke his head, pooling them onto the floor and stepping back to admire his handiwork. 

“Spread em baby- gooood.” he cooed as you slowly parted your legs, baring yourself to him. With a lick of his lips, he stared you down like a predator meeting its prey. Your juices began to seep down to puddle of the desk and he grinned.

 “ Your pretty little button’s quivering buttercup. Ya know, what my favourite part about her is?” Time blurred and shape back again as he stepped closer and his thumb met your clit, applying pressure and rubbing little circles. “ Is that she’s so sensitive.” he cooed gently and you threw your head back. 

“Shhh honey I know, I know but we gotta get her warmed up first.” His pace began to quicken, his finger slowly pushing inside your entrance. Steve nearly moaned at the feeling, the tightness. The idea of how tight you’d feel around his cock almost had him jizzing in his pants. 

“Goooood girl.” He cooed as he began to pump his finger in and out of you slowly, thumb applying more pressure to your clit. Your walls began to flutter around him, the coil in your belly about to snap. Whines left your mouth as you began to buck your lips slowly, emitting a deep chuckle for him. 

“I see we’ve found the favourite spot didn't we buttercup?” 

Little pants and “ahs” left your lips as you began to grind down on his hand, desperate for his fingers to reach that spot again. “Daddy need to come s’please!” you were a blubbering mess, tears still continuing to fall. 

“ Cum for me honey.” 

That was all it took. Your vision went white as you clamped around him, spraying across his beard and forearms. “Ohh goddd!” you cried, his finger began to slow and slip out of your soaked cunt. 

“S’hottest thing I’ve ever seen god.” he mumbled, beginning to unbuckle his pants. “Gonna fill you up baby, you wanna be my toy? Wanna be my little doll hmm?”

 “Please please-” you begged, mouth watering at the sight of his cock. 

It was big. Really big. 

His hands grasped your thighs and you squealed as he yanked you to the very edge of his desk, wasting no time ripping your shirt clean off. Buttons scattered everywhere and you mewled under his predatory gaze, taking in every inch of you. 

“Oh I’ve hit the jackpot with you buttercup.” he moaned, slowly unclasping your bra and exposing your peaked nipples to the chill air. “Better than I’ve been dreaming bout baby.” Steve’s hands came up to kneed your aching breasts, tugging and toying with each nipple, causing you to cry out. 

“Please Daddy just need you!” you cried, lip quivering as he smacked your tit, leaving a red mark. “Well since you asked so nicely.” Steve wasted no time unleashing his full length into you, hitting home. 

You screamed,  not caring if anyone heard. It was too good. The feelings were incredible, and Steve knew exactly what you needed. You had never felt so full in your life, clenching around him like a madwoman. “Tight little thing.” he growled, watching your tits bounce with each thrust. 

Little “ahs” escaped your lips each time he pumped harder into you, your hands seeking out his biceps to grip onto tightly. “Such a good little cumdump.” he cooed, feeling your walls clench around him even tighter. “Oh, she liked that, didn’t she? You like being my little cumdump hm? My little toy?” 

“Yes Daddy!” you wailed, eyes rolling back in your head and he chuckled.

 Knock knock knock.

“Well It appears we have a little visitor now don't we?” Steve cooed down at you, watching your eyes widen in alarm.

 “Come in.” he drawled, and the door opened with a creek. “Well, what do we have here hmm?” 

Oh god. You knew that voice anywhere. The Brooklyn accent, sweet as honey.

 “Now Buck, you know I don’t like sharing what’s mine.” Steve growled as Bucky pulled up a chair to sit in front of the desk, watching the scene unfold in front of him. 

“Hi baby.” he cooed down at you, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly as Steve continued to ruthless pound into you. “ Daddy treating you well?” he asked and you let out a pornographic moan, Steve’s hand finding your throat and closing around it firmly. 

“ Cmon Stevie boy, we’ve been talkin about this pretty little thing for months now. Don’t you think I deserve a turn once you’re done?” 

Your mind went blank. They’ve been talking about you? Somehow that thought turned you on even more, your release in an arms reach, coming closer and closer. Steve knew that.

 “Keep talkin Buck, she likes it.” 

Bucky chuckled, smile turning predatory. “You’re so pretty doll, just wanna stuff my cum down your throat until you cry.” Something about the way he said something so vulgar, something so dirty with the voice of an angel as if he were telling you you had a cut and he was giving you instructions on how he’d patch it up made you squirm. You were needy.

 “We just wanna see you cum for us, wanna see your pretty little legs shake even more than they are now.” he cooed, Brooklyn accent thick and heavy. Your wails began to get frantic, and you were quite literally clawing Steve's biceps. 

It was too much. 

Your walls shattered as your walls fluttered around Steve, your juices squirting everywhere. With a rough thrust and a growl, he filled you up with his cum. “Good girl.” Steve whispered, watching your eyelashes flutter as you attempt to clear your fuzzy head.

 No use. You were a mess, thoughts a jumble.

 “Look at that Buck, she’s gone stupid. Little buttercup would let you do anything to her, she’s so stupid on cock. Just wanna be stuffed honey?” he drawled, slowly pulling out of you, watching your cum and his mix and drip down your thighs. A growl left his throat, his feelings of possession over you increase dramatically. 

Your poor legs were shaking as if you were electrocuted, your breathing coming in shallow pants. “Go see Mr. Barnes buttercup, it’s okay.” he instructed, helping you slowly slide of the desk and land on shaky legs. You took a step forward and he tsked, shaking his head. 

“Crawl honey.” 

Your heart raced, and you quickly dropped to the ground. A chuckle rumbled through Bucky’s body as you crawled around the desk to face him, peering up at him by his feet.

 “You think she’ll mind if I’m mean? Nothing personal dolly.” he winked down at you and you shivered. “Oh she’ll love it.” Steve began to adjust his tie, smiling down at you. 

Smack.

 A burning sensation was left on your left cheek, a red mark left in its wake. “Oh yeah, she loves it.” Bucky laughed, smacking your other cheek as you peered up at him, too far gone to speak. 

“Cmon make yourself feel good on my shoe honey. Need to work for it and then I can stuff you full of some cock yeah? Fill ya up till your leaking?” 

You scrambled on his shoe, beginning to rock your hips on it. The feeling of the leather on your clit has you gasping, your juices trickling smearing across it. 

“Like a bitch in heat.”

 He smacked your face lightly a few more times, causing you to cry out. “I’m going to have so much fun with you dolly.” he cooed, petting your hair gently as if he wasn’t just smacking you silly two seconds ago. “You’ll take whatever I give you, won’t you?”

 “Yes Mr. Barnes.” you moaned, increasing your pace as he began to bounce his leg up and down.

 “ Dumb little cumdump…” he sighed, and Steve laughed. “ Be careful with that one Buck, she likes it more than she should.” 

“ That right?” You nodded frantically and he smiled, looking back up at Steve.   “ So about those stocks…”

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #mob boss steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #mob boss steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #captian america x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #captian america #captain america fanfiction #captian america smut #captian america fluff #captain america x you #captain america fanfic #captain america fluff #captain america smut #captain america x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #stucky

[shoot-the-oneshot]

PROMPT LIST IS OUT!

#steve rogers imagine #ransom drysdale x reader #steve rodgers x reader #andy barber imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes imagine #biker bucky x reader #biker!bucky x reader #mafia Steve Rogers x reader #mobster!bucky x reader #mob! Andy barber imagine #winter solider x reader #mob stucky x reader #biker!steve Rogers imagine #mob! steve rogers x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #juice imagine #jake jensen x reader #dark!jake jensen #dark Jake Jensen x reader #dark!jake Jensen x reader #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagine

[starksbabie]

Steve Rogers runs the Brooklyn Burrow by keeping a close ear on everything that's going on. There's not a deal that happens that he's not privy to and he likes it that way. Whether it's paying off informants or simply loosening lips with a night-cap if something is happening in his territory Steve knows about it. So when you walk into the club and he has no idea who you are, it sets him on edge. It's not long until he knows all about you and he decides to keep you for himself.

#soft dark!steve rodgers #mob boss au #mob boss steve rogers #dark steve x reader #dark steve x you #x reader #moodboard #my moodboards #tw alcohol #tw alchohol mention #tw smoking

[hawksbabymama]

These pictures are giving me very much, daddy!Steve and Mob!Steve. OMG THE WAY HE WOULD TAKE CARE OF YOU. Im gonna go feral. He would be the sweetest daddy to you but would also be very strict to keep you in check-

#dark steve rogers #mob!steve #daddy!steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rodgers x reader

[ficthot]

I don't even know who to send this to as so many people do wonderful mob!steve's but is there one where he's collecting money from businesses and y/n is a new employee/new in town kind of deal? If not...sheesh i just would love to explore those power dynamics and her realizing the cute mystery man in the corner of the cafe/bar/bookstore/barber shop/wtfever is taking money out of the business so he wont burn it to the ground...

#chris evans blurb #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #mob!steve #steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #steve rodgers imagine

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

A Saint with the Lips of a Sinner (Steve Rogers X WOC! Reader)

Summary: Y/N is forced to attend the biggest mob in New York party, dealers from across the country coming in to discuss business, with Steve and Bucky’s whereabouts in the center of all of it. Y/N must entertain the guests and keep everyone happy, but a surprise guest shows up in need of a drink, unbeknownst to the danger that lies ahead for him. And the secret he uncovers. 

Author’s Note: So.... I hope you guy’s liked the last part, it was very short and eh but this one I’m proud of and it’s the start of something very AWESOME, mob au’s are so interesting to me and I love Tony Stark but I needed a villain. I’m excited for this and please leave feedback! I love it :) and head’s up, Steve isn’t so gentlemanly in this chapter ;) IT’S SO SHORT I’M SORRY

Warnings: Some fluff, my dudes, a little angst, mild language, and SO MUCH SEXUAL TENSION *awkward winks*

Word Count: 2058

FC: Tristin Mays

The bar bustles with life, patrons of the service and people dancing all unaware of the inner workings going on right under their noses, secret dealings and trades with the people that run the town. Tony Stark buttering up some of his colleagues in one corner, and a deal being made in the next. A speakeasy vibe hangs in the air along with the stale cigarettes and booze, paired with the scent of deceit and mischief. 

Y/N steps lightly in her stiletto heels, red, satin, slip dress clinging to curves and fitting her frame nicely. So used to wearing baggier or casual clothing that she rarely notices the lingering stares on her body when she passes tables, staying out of the limelight as much as she can. She’s not used to being so dressed up.

Her involvement in Stark’s business starting to cost her more than just her time, now proving fatal for both her and a certain new friend of hers. But she holds her head up, anyway, keeping her shoulders back when she walks, because mobsters, do smell fear. If you’re not completely confident or sure of yourself, you’ll be the first to go, and even if she wasn’t an official member, the same rules apply. 

Then, while passing the entrance to speak to Tony, she hears a familiar voice speaking to the security guard, old friends by the tone of conversation. She pays no mind to the idle muttering, casting it off as a figment of her imagination or side effect from lack of sleep, until her eyes move past a head of blonde hair and eyes that resemble emerald, flecks of sapphire and gold in its rims. 

Her eyes go wide when she finally realizes and she turns to him, both of them locking eyes and his mouth opening to say something, ask why she’s here. But she’s quick, taking his hand in her own and dragging him into a forgotten hallway no one goes into, holding him against the wall until they’re out of sight.

She places a hand over his mouth and speaks furtively, “Why the hell are you here?”

His eyes crinkle with amusement, slowly pulling her hand out of the way with a hesitant smile in its place, “To get a drink?” he says, as more of a question than an answer. “Why? Is there something wrong with that?” he looks her over once before smiling, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Her skin burns from his flattery but she shakes herself out of it before he can take notice of it, so she drops her hand completely, “Do you have any idea who runs this place?”

“The Columbos, why?” he furrows his brow.

“Do you know what else they run?”

It takes him a minute to realize his grave mistake before he sighs aloud, throwing his head back in frustration, “I’m an idiot,” he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“You know, for a wanted man you sure have a way of making yourself known in exactly the places you shouldn’t,” she takes a step away from him. 

He looks her over quickly, meeting her eyes again, indignantly, frowning slightly, “You work for them... don’t you?”

Her heart leaps into her throat and she evades the question, looking to the floor instead of answering, and he doesn’t meet her eyes either.

“You set me up,” he concludes with a sullen expression and guilt etches itself into her features. 

“I didn’t,” she says quietly, stepping closer to him when she hears footsteps nearby, threatening to find their location. “My brother’s Sam Wilson...”

“What does that have to do with anything? You know I trusted you-”

“I’m sorry!” she says, a little too loudly than intended before dulling her voice down to a stealthy whisper. “Will you let me finish, Rogers? I promise it’ll make since when I’m done,” she pleads. “Okay?” her voice breaking towards the end. 

He nods after a moment and the lump in her throat finally leaves way for her to breathe again, heart still hammering in her chest, but not just from the secrets. 

“I have no choice to be here, Hercules, my brother betrayed Stark and took me as collateral, if I mess up or step out of line, Sam’s dead, along with the rest of my family. The worst part is I’ll be the one forced to do it with a gun to my head, but knowing this business, I’ll get a bullet through the skull too even if I do comply.”

The words are thick in the air like a fog none of them can see through, until he finally breaks it, “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely.

“You don’t need to be,” they lock eyes and neither one dares to lets go. 

“So the other day... talking in the coffee shop, that was all fake?” he stares her down, but rather than intimidation, she’s met with vulnerability and confusion. 

She rolls her eyes, both conflict warring and indifference in her expression, attempting to keep a calm exterior, holding her scarlet lips closed until letting the words slip, “No, Rogers... that wasn’t fake. But is that what you’re really wondering in this moment? You need to get your priorities straight if you ever want to get out of here.”

“No need, I’m pretty comfortable here,” he looks you over, now pressed against him with his back to the wall, room filled with heated whispers and hot as hell despite the cool air condition pouring in from the ceiling. His voice is inflicted with challenge and trickery, playing the game you intended to start yourself.

“Not so shy when we’re in the face of danger, huh? How classy of you, Rogers,” she rolls her eyes for what seems like the fifth time tonight, but there’s a coy smile playing at her lips, 

She steps away from him, but finds herself unable to move when his arm snakes its way around her waist, quietly spinning them around so her back is against the wall, his hand over her mouth. 

He places a single finger to his lips and she nods in compliance, heat pooling in her abdomen at the intensity of his gaze, green meeting brown, footsteps dangerously close by with a knock on a door and Tony’s voice on the other side of the wall.

“Where the hell is that girl?” Stark’s muffled voice sounds through the drywall.

“Maybe you should keep her on a leash, Tony, the girl’s proving to be nothing but trouble for you.”

“You’ve seen the bruises on her, she knows her place. Talk about her again like she’s a pet, and you’ll soon learn yours as well.”

The voices soon die out until silence thickens the atmosphere once again. They’re both frozen in place until he raises a single eyebrow in inquiry and she nods quickly, allowing him to take his hand away from her face, her ample chest heaving with each strenuous breath.

“You have bruises...” he states and she looks him in the eye, shaking her head not to question it further, before he lightly moves her hair out of the way of her neck, her head turning to the side with her eyes clenched shut as he examines the fingerprint marks indented in her skin, purple blossoming on her deep skin. His fingers brush over the mark and she winces slightly, an action he catches with a frown before sweeping her hair back in place, hand still lingering on her skin. 

“You know what they do to people who don’t follow orders. I happen to be one of them. It’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, Hercules, I can take care of myself.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just telling you you’re not alone in this anymore.”

She looks at him, grateful, afraid tears might surface at the compassion he’s showing her, sympathy she doesn’t feel she deserves.

“You’re lucky we’re so cramped here, I would hug you right now,” her ruby lips curl upward, softened eyes not straying away from his.

“Raincheck,” he smiles weakly, letting his hand drop back to his side and she smiles. 

“Who says that anymore?” she rolls her eyes with a quiet laugh, the conversation back to a lighter tone. 

He chuckles gruffly, “Do you think if I kissed you right now that you’d finally be quiet?“

She smiles, pleasantly surprised by his question, “Depends on where you kiss me,” she replies coolly. 

Her steely resolve crumbles slowly when he continues to undress her with his eyes, the gentlemanly act he put up when they first met gone along with it. 

Steve half smiles, cheeks a shade of rosy pink, eyes glittering, he lifts an expert eyebrow, “Not so ladylike now, huh?”

She smiles, finally, the light switching on in his chest when she brings that familiar sunshine into the room, “You’re certainly not so gentleman now yourself, Rogers. Don’t act so high and mighty.”

“I would never.”

She looks at him for a moment, growing serious, “You and I both know that if I fall for or start liking you, Steve, it will become a weapon, used against the both of us. So I suggest you stop looking at me like that,” 

He tilts his head curiously, smiling smugly, “Like what, doll?”

There goes that doll again. “Like you can see under my dress.”

He pinches his brow, adorably so, “Why, are you wearing scandalous lingerie I shouldn’t know about?”

“Usually I would say yes.”

“Why do you say usually?”

“Because now... I’m not wearing any,” she flashes a feigned demure smile, leaning her head back against the solid wall. 

He gulps audibly, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously but he soon regains control, despite the fifty shades of scarlet that adorn his handsome face, clearing his throat with a shy smile, “And... w-why is that?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Rogers, it wasn’t for you, I was in a rush to leave.”

“You never told me the rules of if the roles were reversed and I ended up falling for you first. What happens then, doll?”

“You prove you truly are the idiot I took you for,” her lips twitch in a smile, looking at the floor at the thought of him liking her. Her stomach’s flipping  and she finds herself questioning this intoxicating feeling fluttering in her chest. 

“You can’t just do things like this and expect me to get rid of this crush that I have on you, Y/N.”

“Seriously? I’ve not done anything,” she laughs in disbelief. “I’m just being me, Steve. 

He laughs, “That’s exactly the problem... well, n-not a problem, more like... a-”

She steps up on the tips of her toes to reach his full height and cup his cheek in her hand, placing a tender kiss on the corner of his pink mouth, catching the tail end of a lovestruck smile from Hercules himself.

“You’re rambling, Rogers,” she mutters with a small smile. 

He rubs his thumb over where her lips left and flicks his eyes back up to meet hers, “What was that for?”

“I was indulging myself,” she whispers, flitting her gaze to his. “Because nothing can happen between us, Rogers, not when I’m the one supposed to be turning you in.”

He studies her features for a moment, like it’s the last time he’ll be seeing them, “I know.”

She contemplates something over in her head for a moment before saying, “Meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow night, alright?” she raises her eyebrows and he nods quickly without stopping to think for an answer. “We need to talk.” 

She slips out from beneath him and walks to the edge of the hall before hearing his voice after her. 

“That’s great and all, but now how am I supposed to get out of here?” he whisper-yells.

“There’s a door right behind you,” she smirks, pointing to the doorknob to his right.

He looks to the door and back to her, then over again before furrowing his brows together, “You knew that was there the whole time and you didn’t say anything?”

“What can I say?” she shrugs with a demure smile. “I was pretty comfortable...” she slips from the hall with one last wave, dreading to see what happens on the other side of that wall.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rodgers imagine #steve rogers and bucky #avengers #avengers infinity war #infinity war #infinity stones #bucky barnes #tony stark x reader #tony stark #steve rogers smut #captain america #thor #thor odinson #loki #Loki Laufeyson #mob au #mobsters #au #avengers au #funny #imagine #fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #woc #woc reader #poc reader