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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 11 months

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The List (1)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Not Beta’d. I was going to conclude this with an actual ending, but it was getting long so I’ll let the readers decide how it ends. If enough people are interested, I might do a part 2. Comment if you want a part 2.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Rumors spread through the underground of New York like the plague. Four murders of New York's most elite in the past 72 hours. Floating around the city was a list of names, a hit list for anyone involved with the mafia. Bucky was no stranger to a threat on his life. Being a mob boss, he constantly walked a thin line, a trapeze artist always one slip away from falling into the hands of death. Bucky had the resources and power to not be taken out so easily. If his name was on the list, he’d be toward the end, but no one knew home long the list was or who was on it. His team had spent the past 3 days searching the city for any information on the list. He had to know who was on it.

“Mr. Barnes, sir,” Peter Parker stammered, catching his breath in the doorway. Peter was a prospect, a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. Bucky couldn't understand why such a gifted kid was so eager to join the mob. Regardless, Bucky couldn’t be happier to have such potential, but the kid picked the wrong time to join them. “We have a lead.”

Bucky’s head snapped up from his desk. He had been engrossed in his own research on his laptop that he had forgotten about his men’s quest. Peter’s spine went rigid under the mob boss’s intense stare. He had yet to get used to it. Peter was certain that was why Bucky’s right-hand man, Steve Rogers, had sent him to retrieve Bucky. Well, that or it was part of Sam Wilson’s attempt at a joke to haze the new guy. Either way, Peter had been a fan of Steve growing up. Steve usually was the face while Bucky worked in the shadows, which only made Bucky more intimidating to Peter. He respected Steve though which is why he found Bucky without hesitation.

“Follow me, sir.”

Standing abruptly, the chair Bucky had been sitting in crashed into the wall behind him with a loud bang. He smoothed his rough palms down the front of his pristine white shirt before straightening his black suit jacket. Without a word, he extended his hand behind Peter, encouraging him to lead the way.

Peter anxiously peered over his shoulder the entire way down the hall. He thought he might have been walking too fast, but Bucky’s pace never faltered. Bucky was hot on his heels, always one step behind him. Stopping unexpectedly outside of the boardroom, Bucky hissed nearly crashing into the teen. Before Bucky could reprimand him, Peter explained, “Before we go inside, Steve told me to give you a message.” Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a bit leaving Peter relieved his boss wasn’t going to chew him out. Still, his own dress shirt began to cling to him with the amount of sweat he was producing. Bucky may have relaxed a bit, but his posture was always disciplined, predatory, and intimidating.

“Spill it out,” Bucky huffed, his hands resting in the pockets of his slacks.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Peter nodded, “Right, um- He said don’t do anything stupid and that we need her.”

The jaw of the boss twitched before he stormed past a confused Peter. His hands pressed into each of the double doors using his full force to slam the doors wide open. All eyes snapped to Bucky as he strode into the room, confidence and determination oozing off of him. Peter ushered in behind him, awkwardly failing to close the doors several times before succeeding. A string of apologies escaped his lips as he stepped further into the room. The serious look Steve shot Peter had him clearing his throat and adjusting his dress coat.

Sam and Steve stood side by side on one end of the room, their arms crossed. They were cautious, guarded rightfully so. Any one of their lives could be on the line. For all they knew, everyone in the room was on the hit list. Spying the woman sitting at the middle of the conference table, Bucky stalked across from her. With his eyes trained on the floor, he dragged the chair away from the table but made no move to sit down as he stepped up to the table.

When his eyes met hers, he puffed out his chest. His arms remained at his sides, his hands burrowing in his pockets. Without so much as a greeting, Bucky began his interrogation, “Who created the hit list.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, a frown etched on her crimson-painted lips. “Right down to business, huh Buck?” A smirk replaced her frown. “I should’ve known, you never were one for much foreplay.”

Bucky pressed his tongue to his cheek. He had expected this, her teasing. It was always a dance between them, one he wanted to avoid by cutting to the chase. She always knew how to rile him up, in more ways than one.

“Princess-”

‘No,” she stopped him with her hand raised, “you don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Bucky snorted, leaning forward, “Isn’t that what you are now?”

“Who is she?” Peter attempted to whisper to Steve, but everyone heard him.

Taking pity on the clueless teen, Sam answered, “She’s Bucky’s ex-wife, Y/N.”

Ignoring the other men, Y/N flashed her diamond engagement ring at Bucky. The light reflected off of the ring making it impossible to miss even from where Steve, Sam, and Peter had been standing.

“That title is pending, followed by queen,” she sassed.

It started out as a term of endearment. Y/N always had a taste for the finer things in life, Bucky’s lifestyle satisfied that craving. He enjoyed spoiling his princess, but that was all she would be. A princess, someone no one would take seriously. It had been an ironic twist of fate that she had met an actual prince after her divorce from Bucky.

Examining the rock on her finger, her signature red nail had been replaced by a nude shade. She was no longer accepting his blood money; she had a good man and clean money now. His eyes traveled back to her face, zeroing in on her red-painted lip. Her hands may be clean now, but her lips were still tainted. The secrets she could talk about his business alone could ruin him which reminded him of why she was here in the first place.

“Who created the hit list, Y/N,” he tried once again to control the conversation.

Pursing her lips, she let him.

“I don’t know,” her gaze dropped to the table, “but I know who has it.”

Finally getting somewhere, Bucky reached back pulling the chair behind him. Once he was seated, he snapped his fingers. Not a moment later, a pen and paper were placed in front of him.

“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, pen in hand.

Y/N raised her head, the man twirled a pen between his fingers tempting her to sign a deal with the devil. Shaking the image from her head she placed her hand over his, ceasing his movements.

“It’s not that easy. He won't meet with just anyone.”

“He?” Steve asked.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Bucky isn’t just anyone,” Sam called out.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “He may very well be suspect number one. It would be bad for anyone to meet with Bucky alone.” Feeling Bucky’s hand turn beneath her own she went to pull away, but he grabbed her hand.

“What about a future queen?”

Eyeing him beneath her lashes, Y/N pulled her hand back to her chest. Noticing the hesitant look on her face, Bucky leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t a fool to think she was here willingly. She wanted something; she needed something.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Bucky asked, “What do you want?”

Thumbing the ring on her finger, she contemplated lying. She didn’t want to need Bucky, but she did. One look at Bucky and she knew he would see through any lie she would come up with, so she told the truth, “I need protection.” Suddenly she felt exposed with everyone's eyes on her. “If my name is on the list,” her voice shook. She wasn’t Bucky’s dirty little secret. People knew she was his wife, well ex-wife. She had ties to the mob and if her name was on the list or if her fiancé found out, the engagement would be called off.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke, “Get me access to the list and let me worry about the rest.”

Relief flooded Y/N. He could have turned her away. He could have blackmailed the information out of her, but he didn’t. Bucky was a rough man, but he was also kind. She had seen it first-hand for many years. Guilt ate away at her for her earlier actions. He knew she had been engaged but she didn’t need to rub it in his face. She wanted to hurt him but only because he had hurt her. A small part of her hoped he would protect her not because he was kind but because he still loved her.

Y/N was able to request a meeting with the man not even 24 hours later. His assistant had sent her an invitation, but it wasn’t for what she had been expecting. Instead, the man had invited her to a gala. He was a businessman after all, and her appearance would be good for business. At a time when she should be laying low, she was about to attend a high-press event.

It wasn’t long after Bucky was notified that he insisted he escort her. Y/N protested but he had argued that he couldn’t protect her if she was dead. That had convinced her, on one condition, they arrive separately. She was still engaged.

The event was beautiful but high glass windows had Y/N on edge. Anyone could see her. She tried to distract herself by searching for the host. There were so many bodies and no sign of the man who had invited her. In the middle of her search, a hand circled her wrist tugging her in the opposite direction. Y/N began clawing at the man’s wrist, an attempt to pry him off. When he stopped and spun around, she crashed into his chest. With her face in his chest, the unmistakable scent of expensive cologne hit her. She shoved his chest putting enough distance between the two.

“Bucky,” Y/N hissed, “you’re supposed to be laying low.”

Surveying the crowd, Bucky muttered, “I am. It’s you who is running all over the damn place.”

Y/N shook her head glaring at him. Not only did he smell good, but he looked good too. He had shaved since she had last seen him. He had traded in his white dress shirt for a black one, forgoing a bow or tie. The top button of his shirt was open, relieving his collarbone. Instead of drooling over her ex-husband she continued to glare at him. It was easier to hate him than to pine over him.

“If someone takes pictures of us together and my fiancé finds out-”

His cerulean eyes shot down to meet her eyes, “Where is he anyway? Shouldn’t you be asking him for protection? Surely, he has the resources.”

Y/N froze, her hands clutching the sides of her silk gown. “He doesn’t know,” she mumbled, then her voice grew. “He doesn’t know about the list, my past, or about you.” Bucky’s eyes softened. He had his doubts before, but he was certain now that she wasn’t happy. He wanted to gloat, to rub it in her fiancé’s face. He knew Y/N better than her fiancé did, and even better, she wanted to tell him. Bucky wanted to make a joke about how keeping secrets in a relationship was unhealthy, but he kept his mouth shut. Y/N sighed, running her hands down her dress to smooth out the wrinkles she had created. “He’s out of the country right now.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she wrapped her arms around herself. His gaze dropped to the floor, but Bucky’s remained on her.

He recognized a lonely soul when he saw one because he was one himself. His lifestyle left few people he could trust. He hadn’t always been lonely though, and neither had she. Bucky’s hand twitched to reach out and hug her, but he didn’t think she would appreciate that with cameras around. He took in her appearance and couldn’t help the squeeze he felt in his heart.

“You look beautiful.”

A giggle escaped her lips, “Thanks, Buck. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He had meant to cheer her up, but her giggle was unexpected. He missed it, he missed her. Everyone he knew in the mob lifestyle had died in the mob. It was poetic in a live by the sword, die by the sword type of way. No one got out, but she did. With his status, he’d never get out and a selfish part of him wanted to pull her right back in.

“You got out, you got away from the life,” Bucky hummed, admiration in his voice, respect.

Y/N shook her head. “No, I just got away from you.”

It was his turn to laugh, “Now if that were true, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. I am standing here with you, not you are standing here with me. He meant it. Even if she was here because of him, he was here for her, to protect her. He put her first.

“You of all people know once you’re in there’s only one way out.”

That was it for Bucky. He wasn’t pulling her back in. She never left. They might have been divorced but they had both meant it on their wedding day when they said, “Till death do us part.” Bucky’s calloused hand cupped her jaw just below her ear, pausing. She didn’t push him away. With both hands, she cradled his jaw pulling his face down to meet hers. Their lips brushed one another, slowly at first, testing the waters. Then his other hand slid up the length of her neck, sliding back to tangle his fingers in her hair. It was a dance they were all too familiar with.

The flash of a camera penetrated Y/N’s eyes beneath her closed lids and it was like pouring a bucket of cold water over her. Quickly, she pulled away shoving Bucky’s chest when his lips tried to follow her. She was fucked, royally.

“Y/N?”

Wiping her smudged lipstick, she ignored Bucky’s lingering gaze before turning to face the new voice. A woman in a blue silk dress approached the pair.

“Virginia?” Y/N asked.

The woman waved her hand in the air. “Please, call me Pepper. We spoke on the phone yesterday. Mr. Stark is ready to meet with you. Follow me.”

Without looking back, Y/N followed Pepper through the crowd. She knew Bucky would be right behind her. She would deal with him later. Right now, she needed the names on the list. Upon their arrival, Pepper exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her. On the other side of a glass desk was one of the wealthiest men in the world, Tony Stark.

“Did I interrupt something?” Tony asked eyes darting between Y/N and Bucky. “I swear there wasn’t so much tension before you two walked in.”

Y/N sent him a tight-lipped smile holding up her left hand. “I’m engaged.”

Tony shrugged, “What you do is none of my business. Besides, something like this would be published on the front page.” Y/N’s stomach dropped. “You know what they say, all press is good press.”

“Says the man with a new woman every week,” Bucky grumbled.

Tony smiled. “Precisely, I would know.”

“Mr. Stark-”

Tony loosened the bow tie around his neck. “Call me Tony.”

“Tony,” Y/N corrected, “so you know anything about a list?”

With a raised eyebrow Tony laughed, “If it’s a list you want, I suggest you talk to Pepper. She handles all of that stuff.”

“Not just any kind of list,” Y/N took a step forward, her hands clasped in front of her, “a hit list.” From this distance, Y/N couldn't miss the way Tony’s eyes shifted to Bucky.

“Are you looking to assassinate anybody?”

Bucky held up his hands, “I’m just looking to protect the people I care about.”

Y/N stood still, watching the intense stare-off between the two.

Eventually, Tony sighed, “I don’t want to be in the middle of any of this.” He tapped a few keys on the computer on his desk before turning the screen. “You better get out of here before your fiancé sends someone.”

“What?” Y/N gasped, blindly clutching Bucky’s forearm beside her. Both of their names were written in green on the list. Beneath them were some of Bucky’s most trusted men; their names written in white.

Tony leaned back in his chair. “Green means active. You’re both next on the list and judging by the number of cameras here, someone probably already knows you’re here.”

“You knew,” Bucky growled.

Tony barely flinched. “Your names weren’t active until recently. Other people’s lives are on the line. I can’t get to everyone in time.”

“Wait, why would my fiancé send someone, he’s not even in the country,” Y/N asked, trying to wrap her head around everything.

Tony frowned. “Your fiance is the one who put the hit list out. What better alibi for your significant other’s death than being out of the country at her time of death.”

Y/N would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her weight.

“Why?” Y/N whispered wide-eyed.

Bucky wanted to drag her out of the building toward safety but was there even a safe place? People already knew their location.

Tony shrugged. “The New York mobs aren't the only mobs out there. They're all over the country, they're in other countries. There are some real higher-ups in the mafia in other countries. The mafia controls everything, it's one of the most powerful positions. Take out other mobs and you can control more area, more power.”

Y/N felt sick. When she said you never get out once you get in, she hadn’t realized how deep she was in life now. Turning to Bucky, he was already on his phone typing. “Bucky, we need to go.”

“No. I text Steve, he’s rounding everyone up. They’ll be here soon.”

Tony’s eyes widened, his eyebrows reaching his forehead. “You can’t be serious. There are cameras everywhere. This will be plastered on every news station.”

Bucky shrugged, lifting the back of Y/N’s hand to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, a quiet promise to protect her. “All press is good press.”

Next Chapter

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aalyssah · 1 year

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Detention

Pairing: Professor!Steve Rogers x Student!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Breeding Kink, Choking, Cursing, Daddy Kink, Deep Throat, Degradation, Face Fucking, Hair Pulling, Humiliation, Names, (Whore), Oral, (Steve Receiving), Spanking, and Unprotected Sex. Minors DNI 18+

Word Count: 1,794

Summary: You’ve been a bad girl which gets you detention and bad girls get punished.

A/N: I really like this one and I hope you do too. Hope You Enjoy!

You sat in your class, bored out of your mind. You were in history. Your favorite class, but not for the reason you think. It's not because of the subject, but because of the teacher, Mr.Rogers or what you call him. Daddy.

You two have been seeing each other to 'talk about your grades' after school. You don't really know how it all started, it just happened and you sure don't want it to end. You've been needy lately due to the fact you haven't been able to 'talk' with him after school for almost 3 days.

Usually he would fuck you everyday, but he's been so behind with grading, he decided to take a break, so he rejected you, making you mad. "Does anyone know the answer?" Steve's voice broke you out of your thoughts. No kids answered as they didn't know the answer and the girls sat there admiring how hot he looked.

“Y/n, how about you?" You rolled your eyes huffing. "Well, if I didn't say anything when you asked the class, why would you call me out?" Your sassy tone surprised you and others as you were never known to talk back. People in the classroom watched as his eyes darkened. "Detention." Was all he said, as he walked to his desk and pulled out a paper.

He walked back to your desk and placed the paper in front of you, looking at you dead in the eyes. You know you are gonna be in big trouble when school is over.

———

The bell rang, announcing it was time for everyone to leave. You on the other hand had detention and boy were you looking forward to it. You took your time, walking around the school, talking to friends, even getting a snack before entering the room. Steve stood at the board, cleaning it off, face changing when he saw you.

His mouth was in a straight line, arms crossed over one another. "You wanted to see me, Mr.Rogers?" You couldn't contain the smirk that was on your face, sucking on the lollipop you got from a teacher. "Don't play coy with me, Y/n." He walked over, grabbing you by the throat.

“You think you can talk back to me, all because I didn't give your needy pussy attention?" You ignored him, sucking on the lollipop, looking up at him. He huffed in annoyance, grabbing the lollipop and throwing it on the floor, the crack of the candy being heard around the classroom.

“Hey, that's my lollipop you-" Steve stopped you from talking, manhandling you into his lap as he sat down. "I don't give a fuck, what it is. You're gonna answer me when I talk to you." You whimpered at his harsh tone. "You think you're all big and bad, embarrassing me in front of all your classmates?"

You didn't answer, looking down in shame. “Huh?" He smacked your butt, making a loud slap noise heard around the room and a moan fell from your lips. "N-no, Daddy, I'm sorry! Didn't mean to have an attitude. I just wanted you to fuck me!" Steve laughed, shaking his head.

It's too late to apologize, now. Get on your knees and show me how sorry you really are and I may think of fucking you." You followed his instructions, sinking to your knees, so you were at eye level with the obvious boner in his pants. You slowly unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants off with the help of him hovering up.

You palmed the bulge of his boxers, licking your lips at the sight. You took his cock out, making eye contact while giving him kitten licks, teasing him. He tapped your cheek, giving you a warning. "Don't play with me, Y/n." You wrapped your lips around him, taking him deep in your throat.

You used your other hand to jerk off what was left that you couldn't fit in your mouth. You let spit rub down his cock and over your hand as you sucked him off. Steve pulled your hair in a makeshift ponytail. "Such a messy girl." He sighed, feeling you hollow your cheeks before coming off him with a 'pop'.

You were too deep, still stroking him as you looked up at him. "Do you like when I suck your cock, Daddy?" Steve ignored you, grabbing his belt and wrapping it around the back of your neck. Your mouth was on his cock, as your head was being pushed down to the point where is cock hit your uvula.

You tapped his thigh, rapidly trying to tell him to calm down, but he didn't listen. His grip tightened on the belt as he thrusted his hips up, fucking your throat. Your gagging noises could be heard as tears blurred your vision. He let go of the belt, groaning. "Fuck." You coughed, holding your throat to get air in your lungs.

You barely had enough time to recover, when you were being pulled into the table. He ripped the skirt you had on, revealing you and no panties on. "You fucking whore, don't got no panties on." He slapped your ass making you moan. You smiled, shaking your butt, taunting him. "Only for you, Daddy." Steve groaned at the name, stroking himself.

He teased your hole, pushing his tip in and out slowly. "You think you deserve to be fuck?" You bit your lip, nodding your head, quieting a whine that was gonna come out your mouth. "Yes Sir, you should fuck me. I've been a good girl." Steve hummed his question. "Have you? Have you been a good girl, Y/n?" You agreed, trying to back up and push him deeper into you, but a hair pull stopped you.

You held high as you looked into his eyes. "So you think giving Daddy attitude is being a good girl?" You slowly shook your head, looking at the ground. He then turned around and walked to his desk, pulling out paper and a pencil before putting it in front of you. He bent you over the desk and rubbed his tip near your entrance.

“D-daddy, what's this?" Your shallow breaths were heard as you felt his hard on, enter you. "Just because I'm about to pound this little pussy, doesn't mean you are not in detention. Do the work." Once he finished the sentence, he pushed into you hard.

A loud moan came from your throat as you were forced on the desk. He took a moment to let you get used to his size and rubbed your hair. Once you caught your breath, you picked up the pencil and began answering the question. Before the pencil even made contact with the paper, a hard thrust was put against your ass.

You moaned, scrambling to hold onto the desk as his powerful thrusts began. He held his hands on your hips, pulling you back to meet him. "D-daddy!" You didn't care how loud you were. It all just felt too good. "You better be doing that work." He warned before grunting at how tight you were.

His voice was all blurry and muffled in your ears as you felt his cock hit deep spots within you. His hands came underneath your connected bodies and ripped your top off, freeing your breast. He fondled them, rolling your nipple in his fingers as he listened to you whine and squirm in his hold.

He laughed you for a moment, hearing you whine. "Shush, Daddy has to make a call." He reached over and grabbed his phone, calling his friend, but that didn't stop him from still punishing your pussy. He wrapped his hand around your mouth, quieting your screams into muffled words.

“Hey, Buck, I just wanted to see if you're still down to go to the movies?" Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the fact he called Bucky for that question.

The worst part was, Bucky or Mr. Barnes was your last period teacher. Who was the one who gave you the lollipop. Steve didn't try to slow some of his thrusts, not caring about the clapping you could hear in the background. He stood on his top toes, thrusting into you, hitting your g-spot making you scream in pleasure.

Steve growled as he slapped your ass. "What's, what noise?" He asked Bucky, who definitely knew what he was doing and who he was doing it with and just between the two of them, they've thought of sharing, but that's for another time.

“Alright man, I'll see you later tonight because ONE of my students got detention." You knew he was talking about you and it turned you in even more at the fact.

He hung up the call and grabbed you by the throat, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. It was full on tongue, teeth clashing together, moans and groans in each other's mouths. You two pulled back for air as his thrusts got harder. "D-dada- gonna c-cum!" Steve could feel you clenching around him tightly as he rubbed your clit.

You jolted at him, rubbing your sensitive bud. "Come on, Y/n. Cum for me, baby." He leaned down and nibbled on the sweet spot on your neck. You didn't even realize that you already came, eyes shutting close as you saw white come in your vision. Tears welled up in your eyes as you came, all hearing around you was muffled.

Steve grunted at how you clenched on him before feeling his own release coming. "I'm gonna cum in you, Baby. Gonna fill you up." You moaned, meeting his thrusts. "Put a baby in me, Daddy." He moaned, at the thought of you being pregnant, walking around your house and school with people not knowing your teacher got you pregnant.

“Yeah? You want me to put a baby in you? What is your father gonna think about your teacher impregnating his sweet little daughter." Steve was getting turned on by his own dirty talking, feeling his thrusts getting deeper and harder.

It was until you reached by him and grabbed his balls to where he came. You two moaned in sync as you felt his liquid spill into you. He shortly pulled out, slapping his cock against your ass a few times until you started to go for your clothes and backpack.

He grabbed you back, pulling him into his chest as you could feel his cock harden. "Where do you think you're going?" You turned around, looking at him, confused. "Home?" Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Oh no, you still have detention. You still got 3 hours." You gulped knowing 3 hours meant rounds.

At least detention won’t be so boring.

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stevierogersbabygirl · 2 months

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Teacher's Pet

Professor!Steve Rogers x problematic reader

Run-through: You were never a diligent student, but ever since professor Rogers noticed, his teaching methods changed your grades forever.

Warnings : mentions of divorce, daddy issues, drugs and alcohol

Themes : Slight angst, smut (cock warming, clothed + vaginal sex)

Your parents divorced when you were 12, giving your mom sole custody of you.

Your father was abusive, he'd emotionally abuse you and never be there for your emotional needs, and your mother tried her best to raise you alone.

But life was hard growing up without a father figure.

You were now 22, and things did not get any better.

You were friends with the wrong people, who were only interested in drugs, alcohol, and lots of sex.

You'd join in, skipping college just to do those activities, and your group was so notorious that the whole campus knew about it.

They were unable to do anything about it, as some of the guys from your gang had parents who had donated to the college for years.

It was almost the first day of the second semester in college, and you and your group planned to go as you guys always went on the first day.

You got bored during most of the lessons, until one class.

A professor resigned and was replaced by a guy named Dr. Steve Rogers.

Holy fuck, he was so hot. From his properly styled blonde hair to his beautiful blue eyes accompanied by long eyelashes, to his pretty lips, to his height, to his abs and biceps.

Suddenly you wanted to attend college again.

Once you were out of his class, you went to your gang and gossiped all about him.

They'd tease you that "Y/N will one hundred percent fuck him for grades", or "Go suck his dick after class". You laughed along with them.

Your crush on that man started to develop more and more, as you attended his classes, and only his classes.

Before and after he taught, you'd always be with your gang, somewhere else, doing something terrible.

But you just had to be in Steve's class for the eye candy.

Unfortunately, though, Steve was teaching one of the harder subjects, and your grades remained the same.

One day, Steve called you after class ended, into his office.

You excitedly went there, fighting back a smile while walking.

You went back into character before knocking on the door, and he went to open it, and you instantly noticed a slight frown on his face, while inviting you to sit down.

After you sat down in front of his desk, he went behind the desk to sit on his chair.

"Y/N, we have to talk about your grades." He said softly, with a concerned look on his face.

You were so mesmerized at first by his beautiful self, that you didn't say anything leaving an awkward silence between the both of you.

"Y/N?" He asked.

You knew this would end up like other meetings about grades. You knew you'd just fail again and didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of a man like him.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I will work on them soon, I have to go now, bye!" You said rather sheepishly, getting up and slowly walking towards the door.

"I didn't tell you to leave." He said in an authoritative voice, causing you to embarrassingly hurry back into your chair.

"Y/N. This is a serious matter, and I've heard of how other professors seem to fail to help your grades." He said in his deep, slightly intimidating voice.

The thought of Steve talking about you to other teachers instantly made your heart flutter, but you had to focus on his serious words.

"So Y/N, I've come up with a strategy. Meet me at my house this evening." He said, handing you a piece of paper with his address on it.

You looked at it in surprise.

After the meeting, you skipped the next class to be with your friends, and they'd have their chitchats but it felt like background noise.

All you could think about was the paper.

Throughout those hours, you wondered what Steve wanted to do about your studies, at his house.

Why would he even invite you to his house?

That's when you had sexually intrusive thoughts, imagining Steve doing the most sinful, sexual things to you, and it made your underwear dampen on those occasions.

In the evening, you walked through his neighborhood to find his house and you finally did, knocking on the door.

Steve opened and invited you into the living room.

You sat on the opposite side of him in the dining room.

After some small talk and as he served you some cookies, he said something rather interesting.

"I heard about your gang, all the sex and stuff, so can you tell me some things regarding it?" He said while mixing his coffee with a small teaspoon.

Your heart jumped hearing those words come out of his mouth, and you had to remove the brain fog to find an answer to it.

"Oh yeah, sure. Well, I've been hooking up with guys since I was 19, they'd pay me for it, and I'd get pregnant on multiple occasions but unfortunately aborted." You said.

You don't know why you said all of that, especially to your professor.

Steve looked at you with a face that had an emotion hard to detect and took a sip of his coffee, he placed it on the table.

"What was the biggest one you took?" He said casually, looking at you, a smirk forming on his face.

Shock filled your face, and your mouth gaped slightly open.

Did your professor ask that?

But you knew that, if you guys were about to have sex, you'd like it too.

This man knew he was extremely hot.

"Well, 5 inches." You said sheepishly, looking down at your plate full of cookie crumbs.

Steve chuckled, and you presumed it was because of the shyness.

He stopped chuckling and said quieter, "Well I'm 6.5, you okay with that?" He asked.

You looked at him, with your mouth gaped and your brain still processing what he just said.

You eventually nodded, and he patted his lap for you to sit on it.

You eventually sat on his lap, inches away from his face.

"B-but, what does this have to do with the studies?" You'd ask shyly, playing with your hair, making Steve smile.

"Well, since you like sex so much, how about you have your pretty tits out while you sit on my cock, doing all your missing assignments on that laptop you have." He said, smirking and staring into your shy eyes.

No way. No way he just said that.

But this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, lots of girls would do anything to fuck their hot professor.

You nodded slowly, looking hypnotized by his beautiful eyes.

In no time, your shirt would be pulled up, revealing your tits, while your underwear was off, and your skirt was covering your pussy as you sat on his large, fat cock, unzipped from his trousers.

You were shaking, a fog clouded in your mind, while you wrote one of your essays, while Steve had both hands on your waist, watching your every move from behind, occasionally playing with your tits

If you were almost finished, Steve would start thrusting up into you and rubbing your clit, and you knew it was worth it.

Once you've submitted, Steve would bring you to his bed to fuck you fast and, hard, and would plant kisses all over your body, showing you that your work was worth it.

You spent less time with your gang, so you'd always give your friends excuses like your mom gave you extra chores, but you were truly at Steve's house, getting your pussy filled while increasing your grades.

For the rest of the college year, you'd sit on his cock half naked, with him fully clothed only with his cock out.

Sometimes you'd request to have casual sex with him, but he'd always reject it, saying that you needed to do an assignment too, which you unfortunately accepted.

But aside from grades, before you'd start doing your assignments, he'd sometimes ask you to give him a blowjob, usually if he's had a stressful day, and you'd agree, which was so unfair.

You never got sex if you weren't doing your work, and he'd always get sex if he'd simply ask.

But he was the hottest fucking guy after all, how could you say no?

#captain america #captain america smut #captain america x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #marvel smut #steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #chris evans

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navybrat817 · 1 year

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Prelude to a Kiss

Pairings: Camboy!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Camboy!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers Summary: A chance encounter with two handsome men at a bookstore brings some much needed excitement to your normal routine. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: F/lirting, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), pet name, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers being both gentlemen and menaces (they're warnings, okay?). A/N: Welcome to my Showtime AU! Excited to share my first "actual" Stucky x Reader AU and for our reader to come into her own. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Thanks to @sgt-seabass, @rookthorne, and @targaryenvampireslayer for letting me scream about this introduction. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a normal afternoon when you went into the bookstore, the familiar quiet greeting you as the door shut. You ventured into the shop every couple of weeks to find new books to read. The man behind the desk didn't bother to lift his head long enough from his phone to greet you. You would think after your first few visits he'd at least offer you a smile or suggestion, but he never did. You were used to guys not giving you much attention.

Too ordinary to stand out, I guess.

No, you wouldn't think of yourself that way. Just because most guys tended to gravitate toward your friends instead of you didn't mean anything was wrong with you. The right person would come along and take notice.

"I am a catch," you whispered to yourself as you walked through the shelves.

And a bit lonely.

Your phone dinged before you could dwell on that thought, smiling as your best friend's name popped up. It faded quickly when you read her message. The two of you had a dinner date, but the new guy she was seeing had tickets to some show. You understood. You really did.

Except you were the friend who always seemed to get ditched when a guy came along.

"Have fun!" you sent back. "We'll catch up later."

At least you could get a jump start on a new book and curl up on the couch for the evening. Like you did most nights. Lather, rinse, repeat. When did your life become so monotonous?

"Romance it is," you mumbled as you reached for a blue book on the shelf.

You turned it over to read the blurb on the back, a small smile on your face as you walked down the aisle. From the simpering heroines to feisty protagonists, you enjoyed immersing yourself in the emotions that poured from the pages as the heroes fought to get their girls. Confident, broody, flirty, alluring, you loved them all and wondered if such men you read about existed.

"Oh!"

For a second, you thought you walked into one of the shelves before you realized you bumped into a person. A very large person who didn't budge, even as a couple of books fell to the ground. You dropped to the floor immediately to retrieve them. Why hadn't you been paying attention?

"Oh, my god. I'm so sorry," you said as the guy crouched down to help.

"Nothing to be sorry about," he said, his velvety voice making you lift your head.

In front of you was one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. Long, brown hair, close to his shoulders, framed his face and your mouth went dry as you found yourself staring into his bright blue eyes. You couldn't help but notice the smile on his face as he offered you his hand and effortlessly pulled you to your feet, your cheeks hot as he steadied you. He took up more than half the aisle with his muscular frame and you knew then that a god existed among men.

Like he stepped right out of one of these novels.

"I-I'm sorry," you said again, your gaze going to his hands as he fixed the stack of books he was carrying. "I should've been paying attention to where I was going."

"It's okay," he smiled, looking you up and down with a slow and steady gaze. "You can bump into me again if you want. I don't mind."

You nearly dropped the book in your own hand as you stepped back, his smile shifting to a smirk. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was flirting with you. That couldn't be the case though.

"Oh, you are fucking adorable," he said in a low voice, quickly looking behind him. "Stevie, get over here. Found something special."

"What did you find?" The deep timbre that rang out made your knees weak.

You let out a shaky breath when an Adonis walked around the corner. Just as large as the brunette, but with shorter blonde hair, a smile didn't reach his brilliant blue eyes as he strode over. Instead of light scruff like the man you bumped into, he donned a trimmed beard. He had to shift just to fit beside his friend and you nearly shrank under his gaze. You tried not to openly gape, not knowing which one of them to concentrate on.

So, two gods among men. Like something out of a wet dream. Do I look at the veins in their arms? Do I stare at their chests? How do they even fit in their shirts? Did they purposely choose something that matched their eyes?

The brunette smirked again and gave a single nod toward you. "This precious gem here bumped into me."

You nearly melted to the floor as heat rushed to your face again. The pet name had your head spinning. Or maybe it was the intoxicating scent of their cologne. "It was an accident and I apologized."

The blonde softly smiled at that, but his eyes held a spark of mischief. "I'm sure it was, but I know Buck is not sorry that you bumped into him."

"Not sorry at all," he confirmed.

You shifted your weight and wondered if the bookstore was always so hot or if it was just them. Your skin heated up more under your clothes and your heart beat faster under their attention. Part of you wished you had a bottle of water to dump over your head and cool off. You didn't even want to think about being sandwiched between them because your legs would likely give out.

"Buck and Stevie?" you asked.

"That's what we call each other. I'm Bucky and that's Steve," the brunette smiled, nodding to the blonde. "Can call us Sarge and Cap if you want."

You couldn't put your finger on it, but something about them seemed familiar. Like you had either seen them somewhere or heard of them in passing, but that couldn't be the case. No, you would have remembered them.

Men like them were unforgettable.

"It's nice to meet you," Steve said, giving you an expectant look.

You told them your name after a second and you hoped you didn't look weird when you blinked a few times. You were trying to make sure you were awake and not dreaming. Because who bumped into two gorgeous men like this in a bookstore? That wasn't your life.

Except, today, it was.

“I really should have been looking where I was going. I mean, you're not hard to miss," you said, doing your best not to ogle at Bucky. "Neither of you are. I mean that in a good way."

"You aren't hard to miss either. I also mean that in a good way," Bucky smiled.

"I agree," Steve said, his eyes sweeping over you before you glanced at yourself.

You wondered what they saw exactly. It wasn't that you looked bad. You always left your place with confidence in your appearance. You just weren't used to most guys looking anymore.

Or maybe, just maybe, some are and I'm the one who isn't paying attention.

Bucky gently pried the book from your hand, his fingers lingering against yours. "And I'd like to pay for that."

"Oh, no. You don't have to," you argued as he added the book to his pile.

You noticed then that he held a couple of science books while Steve had novels on art. It intrigued you as both were fascinating subjects in their own way. You had a feeling both of them were the same way: captivating, wondrous, and deep.

"I want to."

"A gentleman would ask to get her a drink, too," Steve teased.

"I don't know if I'm a gentleman," Bucky mused as he looked at you. "But I would also like you to have a drink with us. Then I'll accept your apology."

What would the sassy heroine say in this situation?

"I-" you almost sputtered.

Not that.

"Now you're just being mean, Buck. It was an accident and she apologized," Steve chastised, but he smiled at you.

"I'm not," Bucky swore, clutching his chest with one hand. "Hurts right here where you bumped me. A drink with you would make us both feel all better."

Steve regarded you carefully. "Unless you have a boyfriend you need to get back to. Or girlfriend."

You couldn't help licking your lips, not knowing just how enticing the gesture was. It was dizzying to be on the receiving end of their stares again, yet you couldn't tear your eyes away as you looked between them. Was it wrong to enjoy the attention these strangers were giving you?

"No, I'm not seeing anyone," you said.

And no rings on their fingers, but no way can they be single.

Instead of turning to walk the other way, Bucky moved forward and bent his head. "Lucky us," he whispered against your ear before he brushed past you. "Mmm. You smell sweet. Like flowers," he added over his shoulder.

You bit back a whine before Steve gave you an assuring smile. You admitted to yourself earlier that you were lonely. Had you sent out some sort of vibe to the universe to get them to talk to you? Or did you manifest them into existence?

"I hope we aren't making you uncomfortable. Buck can come on a little strong when he sees something he wants," Steve said as he gently put a hand on your back to guide you. "Though I can't say I blame him in this case."

“No, it’s okay. He seems nice," you said, smiling to yourself at the compliment. "Even if he needs a drink to accept an apology.”

Steve's chuckle had you shivering as you made your way to the front of the store. "A drink he plans to pay for along with your book," he said, adding his small stack to the pile on the desk.

Standing behind them was a mistake as your gaze went right to their asses. You wondered if your friends would believe you if you told them about the two perfect specimens who could be models if they wanted to. Maybe they were since you had no clue what they did.

Stop staring. Don't think about grabbing their asses. Did they paint their jeans on? God, I need to get laid.

As if Bucky knew you were looking, he glanced over his shoulder and winked. You averted your gaze after that. He was clearly the more playful of the two, but something in his eyes told you he was a man you should take seriously. And Steve? You didn't ever want to be on the receiving end of upsetting or disappointing him.

Not like I'll ever find out. They're not actually taking me for a drink. They'll go their way and I'll go mine.

Bucky thanked the cashier before he turned and handed you your book with a card on top. "Stevie and I are gonna grab a drink at The Howling Commandos in a half hour if you wanna join us. It's just around the corner," he explained as you moved away from the counter. "If not, there are our numbers if you ever wanna chat. Just spare me the heartache and wait 'til we leave before you throw it out."

You curiously ran a finger over the card. It had both Bucky and Steve's names on them, but no business listed. It intrigued you even more now.

Who are you two?

"Thank you for buying my book. You really didn't have to do that," you said, touched that he was kind enough to do that. "And I'm not going to throw your card out."

No one in their right mind would do something like that.

"Thank you. I would've had to listen to him whine all night," Steve said, nudging his friend.

"Not all night. Most of it," Bucky teased. "And it was nothing. Does that mean you'll join us for a drink?" he added, his tone casual, but his gaze hopeful.

I would let you both devour me and I wouldn't object.

"You're really asking me?"

"Yeah, we are," Steve answered, his gaze almost as soft as Bucky's.

You wondered if it was a good idea. As charming as they were, you didn't know them. They didn't give you bad vibes though or the impression that they were playing a prank. Your gut told you to take a chance. Because your couch and books would always be there, but how many opportunities like this would you get?

Maybe they see that I'm a catch. And if it's just a drink and nothing more, it's nice to make new friends.

"I'll join you," you replied, your heart racing when they both smiled. It gave you the boost of confidence to flirt back a little. "If only to spare your feelings."

Both of their eyebrows shot up when you giggled and you took great pleasure in them laughing with you, like the three of you were sharing a private joke.

"Careful, little gem," Bucky smiled as he held the door open for you. "You might just make us fall in love."

"Might?" Steve smiled as they headed out, too. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it."

You managed not to stumble onto the sidewalk at their words. They were just being charming. It had to be. God, they were lethal.

How am I going to survive having drinks with them if they keep flirting like that?

"See you in thirty minutes," you said as you regained your composure.

"Don't be late."

"Otherwise Steve will have to punish you," Bucky winked before they turned and walked away, leaving you awestruck where you stood.

Welp. There go my panties.

So, how long before it takes them to ruin you? And how long before you find out what they do for a living? Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Stucky Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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ichorai · 5 months

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airbag ; steve rogers.

track one of OK COMPUTER.

pairing ; steve rogers x reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; five time steve tries to propose to you, and one time he actually does.

words ; 4.3k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, kind of avengers tower au?

warnings / includes ; mentions/descriptions of injury, alcohol, lots of lovesick fluff, rest of avengers are mentioned, natasha and tony Meddling, reference to spider-man & sandman :)

main masterlist.

Steve considered himself a romantic of sorts. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked bringing you flowers, he liked taking you to the theater, and he liked walking you home—all the way up to your door and listening for the lock, so he knew you’d be safe in there.

It was only fitting how cliché it felt when he realized he was in love with you. Firework-igniting kisses and butterfly-filled tummies and face-splitting grins. Everything described in those movies you enjoyed watching—but so much more.

Steve Rogers wasn’t a man to waste time. After all—enough of that had been done while he was frozen in the ice. If he was going to start something, then he was most definitely going to go all the way and finish it, too.

Almost immediately after your first anniversary, he bought a ring. It was simple and classic, maybe a bit out of style but hey, you seemed to be into that. You were dating a century-year-old.

It was December then, soft snow lining the streets and piling upon naked tree branches. During the drive to the fancy restaurant he’d found (courtesy of Tony), there were children building snowmen and sledding down shallow hills. You smiled watching them, eyes rife with fond warmth, and Steve knew then that he had to do it. He had to propose to you tonight.

Inside, you wouldn’t stop telling him how underdressed you felt, but Steve reassured you by saying a simple, “You look perfect, I promise.”

And he wasn’t lying. You did look perfect to him.

Dinner consisted of several decadent courses, with the waiters serving platters the two of you could barely even pronounce. It was delicious, nonetheless, and the chef had even come by to shake the hand of the Captain America.

During the last course—a silken slice of chocolate cake for dessert—Steve slipped his hand into his suit’s pocket, the velvet box smooth beneath his fingers. He replayed the question over and over again in his head, rehearsed a million times prior to the dinner.

Will you marry me?

And just as he was about to pull the ring box out, another diner pushed his chair back just far enough to accidentally knock into a waiter passing by, holding a plate of spaghetti. Completely sauced, to top.

To Steve’s horror, the plate tipped, almost in slow motion, and fell with a wet, splattering noise all over your outfit. You’d let out a small yelp of surprise, the spaghetti was hot, but not enough to burn. Steve stood up a second too late, hand falling away from his pocket as he rounded the table and placed it on your shoulder, asking if you were okay.

“I’m okay,” you told him gently, reaching over to grab a few napkins at the center of your table.

You didn’t get mad, of course you didn’t—it was part of the reason Steve loved you so much—instead, you were kind and patient, reassuring the flustered waiter that it was alright. “Mistakes happen,” you said. Another waiter came by a few minutes later with a few damp cloths so you could wipe the rest of the spaghetti sauce off.

Needless to say, the chef insisted that the meal was on the house that night, much to Steve’s chagrin.

The drive back home smelled of marinara sauce and oregano, but the heavy weight in his chest at the failed proposal seemed to lighten when you joked about how the five course meal ended up being six.

Natasha knew about the ring. Steve wasn’t quite sure how—he’d never explicitly told her—but then again, he wasn’t surprised. Nat seemed to always just know things from the smallest of details. It was why she made such a brilliant spy.

“So,” she’d said once she stumbled across from Steve in the Avenger Tower’s lavish gym, a sly grin stretching over her lips, “when are you popping the question?”

There was a pause to his movements—the dumbbell he’d been curling hovered in the air, his muscles tensing. He thought about it for a little longer, considering asking her how she knew but—he seemed to sense that Natasha would wave it away with a laugh and a light, “A magician never reveals her secrets.”

Instead, he told the red-head, “I’m working on it.”

Natasha leaned against a treadmill, arms crossing over her chest. The smile on her face seemed to grow even wider. “Uh-huh. How long have you had the ring?”

Steve resumed doing his reps. The burn felt nice, even if it was only barely there. “Long enough.”

There was a soft tenderness to Natasha’s eyes, and she bumped a fist into his bicep. “Take Y/N hiking. Far away from the city, where it’s quiet.”

Again, Steve paused his exercise. Slow, he put the weights down, thinking over her words.

“That’s actually—that’s a good idea, Nat.”

“Of course it is.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Thanks, really. I just want things to be perfect.”

She dipped her head once, before climbing onto the treadmill. “Send pictures. I’ve got a bet going on—Clint would want proof.”

Steve spared her an amused roll of his eyes. With a wave and a hurried goodbye, Steve rushed out of the gym to take a quick shower. The weather app on his phone (that he took an embarrassingly long time to find) told him the skies were going to be clear that afternoon—perfect for hiking.

Maybe, hopefully, perfect for proposals.

Half an hour later, you were ready to go, too, bouncing on the balls of your feet excitedly.

“I packed us sandwiches.”

“Did you? Oh, great—thanks, honey. We could have them as an early dinner.” He rubbed your shoulder and nudged you into the car.

“I packed a bunch of snacks, too.”

Steve arched a brow. “Like?”

“Gummy worms, popcorn, chips, cookies. Oh, and Wanda actually made something for us, I’m not really sure what it is, but it smelled nice—”

Your words died away when Steve laughed, loud and chesty. Of course you’d pack just about the entire pantry. How you managed to stuff all of that into your travel backpack with room to spare was beyond him. You couldn’t help but break out into an infectious smile when he leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead.

The drive out of the city to the hiking trail was long, and you nearly dozed off if not for the road getting progressively bumpier the closer you got.

The sun was high in the sky by the time you arrived. You slipped out of the car with a pleased hum and stretched out your limbs, ready to get the hike over and done with. You might’ve been dating a superhuman, but you had no powers of your own. The pressure to keep up was something always in the back of your mind.

And that’s how the hike went—you were determined to stay on par with Steve, no matter how grueling the terrain became. Even when he suggested a break to have some of the many snacks you’d packed, you tossed him your bag and kept trekking on—you were worried that if you stopped, you would never get back up again.

Really, you shouldn’t have overexerted yourself this quickly—the two of you were barely halfway done with the trail. Your feet were starting to drag, and your pace grew staggered. Just as you turned around to face your boyfriend and ask for a breather, your foot caught on a tree root that poked up above the trail’s surface, and you stumbled forward.

Thankfully, Steve’s quick reflexes came in handy, and he darted forward to grab you before you could go rolling down the steep hills.

He tugged you close into his chest, not yet registering your wince of pain. “Are you okay? That was a close one!”

When you pulled away, you gingerly tried to test your wait on the foot, but quickly lifted it back up with a grimace. “Oh, God. I think I’ve rolled my ankle.”

Steve stiffened, glancing further up the trail. It was maybe another two hours, but that was only with two fully-functioning pairs of legs.

The proposal would have to wait another day, then.

He cupped your face, soft and gentle. “Wrap your arms around my neck from behind. I’ll carry you down to the car.”

“You sure, Stevie? I can try hopping down on one foot.” You tried to demonstrate, but nearly lost your balance again. All the jostling sent bolts of pain down your foot, which surely wasn’t a good sign, either.

He snorted, huff-laughing, other hand slipping over your waist to keep you still. “I’m sure. Come on.” He leaned down expectantly.

Relenting, you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and hooked the inside of your thighs over his waist, careful to keep your injured foot extended so it wouldn’t bump into him. It was beginning to throb.

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled, resting your cheek over his shoulder, one of your hands lifting to toy with his short, blonde hair. He began to walk down, and you tried your best to ignore the pain in your ankle. “Ruined our hiking trip. I was so excited.”

“It’s okay, honey. It was an accident! We can always go another time. Maybe a different trail, though.”

You apologized again, the whole way down, in fact, despite his assurances that he wasn’t at all tired. He really wasn’t—barely broke a sweat during the descent. Besides, he quite liked the feeling of your holding so tight onto him, your nose pressed into the side of his neck, your soft laughter brushing over his skin in one moment, your slight winces in the next.

“I love you,” you whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

He felt a shiver traverse down his back, and briefly wondered if you felt it, too.

“I love you, too. That tickles, though.”

Your laugh was abrupt and ever so heart-warming. “Sorry.”

The movie, you’d told him, was a cult classic from the seventies. Steve couldn’t really remember what it was called. Callie? Cassie? It was an awful lot of blood. The arm he had wound over your shoulder squeezed you every time someone screamed in the film—which was… startlingly often.

Proposing in the middle of a gorey movie wasn’t exactly the romantic vision Steve had in mind, but since the previous attempts really didn’t work in his favor, he wondered if keeping it casual was the best way to go. So when you asked if he could come over for an abrupt movie night, he readily agreed—and brought the small, velvet ring box with him.

It was tucked safely in the pocket of his slacks, on the side you weren’t pressed up against. The weight was a constant reminder of what he wanted to ask you—occupying his mind away from the movie he should’ve been paying attention to.

He’d propose once the credits started rolling. Yes, that’d be best, right? Wouldn’t want a horrified scream interrupting his profession of undying love to you.

And so he watched. He watched and watched, absentmindedly wondering what on earth the movie was even about. He dragged his knuckles up and down your arm. When a particularly gruesome scene unfolded, Steve glanced over at you.

To his surprise, your features were softened with sleep, only barely illuminated by the crimson glow from the television, your lips slightly parted and eyes shut.

With gentle movements, Steve reached over to guide your head onto his shoulder. Your hair tickled his cheek, and he let out a soft puff of a sigh before smiling. He kissed your temple, nose resting over your forehead.

The proposal would have to wait another day.

Tony’s parties were always an affair that Steve looked forward to. He wasn’t a party-goer by any means, but he found that the grand events were a great way for him to catch up with all his colleagues, acquaintances, and work associates he otherwise wouldn’t have spoken to for months to come.

And, of course, your excitement always seemed to rub off on him. You were buzzing about the room with what looked like twenty different outfits hanging off of your arms, holding them between you and the mirror with a scrutinizing look.

“Tucked or untucked?” you asked, more to yourself than him. He wasn’t given the chance to respond, anyway, since you chucked the shirt somewhere behind you and promptly started looking for another.

When you’d finally settled for appropriately formal attire, and Steve slipped into a button-up dress shirt (which was his one and only option, much to your envy), the two of you set off for Tony’s.

The party was already in full swing by the time you got there. Steve wasn’t entirely sure what the event was for—an anniversary or birthday, maybe? Fundraising gala? A celebration of some sort of scientific breakthrough Steve couldn’t even begin to comprehend? It was always a toss-up with Tony.

You were greeting people here and there, stopping to chatter amicably about what you’ve been up to, how work was going, the latest shows you’ve been catching up with…

And then you kissed his cheek and told him you were going to go grab some drinks. Steve watched you go with fond eyes. You looked incredible tonight.

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie, and Tony Stark’s smug face came into view.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, sly and knowing. What did he know?

“Hey, Tony. We only just got here. What’s all this for, by the way?” Steve crossed his arms and glanced around for any telltale signs.

A smirk flitted across his expression. “Just thought we all needed a bit of social activity pumped into the team. It’s a great place to… get your courage up, hm?” Tony smiled, and Steve narrowed his eyes.

“Did Natasha tell you?”

Tony snorted. “We all know.”

“Great.” Steve slid his hand into his pocket and traced the smooth grooves of the ring box. “Is everyone expecting me to propose tonight?”

“No, pfft—we don’t want to pressure you or anything…” Tony pointedly glanced at a stage conveniently placed front and center of the room. “But if you need some, what should I call it… assistance, the stage is all yours to use.”

Steve balked. Proposing at a party was one thing, but proposing on a stage in front of hundreds of people was completely out of the question.

Or was it?

“I’m not going to propose on a stage. That’s more your style.”

With a shrug, Tony rolled his eyes. “I mean, Pepper hasn’t left me yet, has she?”

Steve chose not to grace him with a response, but frown-smiled when Tony grabbed a flute of champagne and shoved it into his hands. He was gone the next second, off to greet a new round of guests.

Thirty seconds later, you appeared by his side, positively beaming, but slightly out of breath. There were two chilled glasses clutched in your hands, almost sloshing over with how quickly you bounded to him.

“Oh, you already got a drink?” you asked, grinning. You clinked both glasses against his, chiming, “Cheers!”

And as you were downing the sugary alcohol in your right hand, Steve ran a finger along the ring box again.

Maybe… maybe it really wasn’t a bad idea. He looked back at the stage. There was a microphone stand on there. Has it been there since the beginning?

He turned his head back to you, and you told him about Banner inviting the two of you over for dinner some time. Just as he was about to reply, his phone started buzzing in his other pocket. Deftly, Steve slipped his hand away from the box and went to pick up the phone—Sam’s caller ID staring up at him.

His friend’s voice sounded strained through the phone, and Steve gripped your hand and led you to a more quiet hallway, away from the crowd and the thrum of music.

Sam hurriedly told him that there was trouble downtown—something about Spider-Man and a very sandy guy.

“Sandy?”

“Yeah. Dude’s made of sand.”

“Oh.” Steve paused, brows furrowing. “I’ll be there in twenty. Can you keep it together till then?”

“Don’t have another choice, do I, Cap?”

With that, Sam hung up. Steve looked to you, crestfallen.

“Honey, I gotta go.”

Your voice was light and airy, despite your slightly crestfallen and confused countenance. “Sam’s in trouble?”

“Yeah. I’ll—” There was an uncertain pause. Steve leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

Your brows pulled together. “I love you, too. Stay safe, Steve.”

It was something you just had to accustom yourself to—when your boyfriend was a superhero, his priorities encompassed far more than you. But you understood, as you always did, and let him hurry away with a stiff lip.

The hospital was packed. Claustrophobically dense. You hurriedly wove through the crowd of anxious people hovering around the information desk, having already gotten the text which room Steve was in.

A few twisting hallways later, you pushed through a door and just about collapsed with relief when your eyes landed on Steve.

He was badly bruised. Hues of deep purple and faint blues were blossomed all over his face. One of his eyes was swollen, his sandy-blonde hair was tousled, and his bottom lip was split. He was wearing a hospital gown, and you felt nauseated wondering just what other injuries he was hiding beneath the fabric.

But he was alive. That was the least you’d hoped for.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you only then registered that Bucky was there, standing by the bed, expression grim and steeled. His blue eyes darted away from his best friend’s face to meet yours.

“I’ll give you two some space,” he murmured with a tight edge to his voice. Bucky patted your shoulder and whisked off before you could say anything.

“Steve?” you croaked, drawing nearer to the bed. Your throat felt tight. “Oh, God…”

Despite his entire face aching, Steve managed to tug one of the corners of his lips up into a meager smile. “Hey, honey.”

His voice sounded hoarse and overused, but was still utter music to your ears. You just about collapsed onto the side of the bed, reaching out to gently brush the back of your shaking knuckles over what little of his face wasn’t bruised.

“I heard what happened on the news,” came your tearful whisper. “I was so worried you…”

Something softened within the blue of his eyes. “I’m still here.”

You dipped forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and his tired eyes slid shut.

“Has a doctor checked on you yet? Any permanent damage I have to look out for?” You pulled away so you could roam your eyes over his form once more.

“Just a few bruises. Bone fractures. Nothing I can’t recover from,” he replied, though he winced when he tried to shift and sit more upright. You placed a hand on his back and helped him move, cautiously slow.

“Take it easy, old man,” you warned. “Don’t want you to pop a hip.”

Steve wheezed out what seemed like a laugh. Then, his eyes darted to the bedside table, where some spare clothes were neatly packed in a bag. Bucky had brought them, making sure to hide the ring box safely underneath a few layers.

Should he? Now, when he had the chance?

“I have something to ask you…” he began, tentative, dragging his eyes back onto you. You tilted your head pointedly, beckoning for him to go on.

Just as he was about to say the words, there were three rapid knocks to the hospital room’s doors and they creaked open immediately after, two nurses shuffling in, clipboards in hand.

“Hello, just here to run a few more check-ups!” one of them chirped. “It’s not often we get a super admitted in here.”

Steve just about physically deflated. Your brows kinked, and you patted his cheek fondly.

“I’ll come by later—gonna go see if Sam is okay. You should rest, Stevie. Love you.” With one final kiss to his cheek, you got up from his bed and made space for the bustling nurses. He barely managed to lift his hand to wave you goodbye before you hurried out of the room, back into the packed hallways.

A month had drifted by since he wound up in the hospital (and discharged the very next day). It was pleasantly breezy that day—gusts of wind tousling his now-overgrown hair and whistling sweetly in your ears.

Steve bent at the waist to place the bouquet of flowers down in front of the headstone. If it were any windier, he was sure it would’ve blown away. But it stayed put, the petals only barely swaying to and fro, and he righted himself back up.

“Sarah Rogers,” you whispered, eyes trailing across the smooth grooves of her name indented into the slab, voice thick with fondness. “What did she look like?”

Your arm wounded over the small of his waist. The two of you had visited the cemetery a few months prior, where you helped him scrub all the moss and dirt from her headstone. He told you about many of his adventures with Bucky before his time frozen in the ice, but very little about his mother.

A wistful smile touched the corner of his face. Now fully healed, much to your relief.

“She was blonde. Blue eyes. Crow lines, I think. Really faint, but they appeared every time she laughed.” There was a nostalgic warmth to his tone.

“Took after her, then.” You beamed down at the grave. “She must’ve been beautiful.”

Steve leaned into your grasp and kissed the very top of your head. “She was. She would’ve loved you, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“She would’ve thought you were perfect. She saw a lot of terrible things in her lifetime, but you—you would’ve made her laugh a lot.” A pause. The wind hummed a disjointed tune. “She always believed in me, even though she was terrified for me all the time. Worried herself sick. If only she knew I’d end up here…”

Your head landed on his bicep. “She knows. She knew from the very beginning.”

The blonde smiled at you again, and you couldn’t help but notice his crow lines, too. It was comforting to know that there was so much of his mother in him.

“You ready for lunch?”

“I’m starving.” you told him, before blowing a chaste kiss to the headstone. “See you soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

Steve began to lead you away, and he couldn’t seem to scratch the smile from his lips. The two of you started walking back home, taking your sweet time. You were saying something—something about a nice lasagna you had frozen in the fridge—

But Steve could barely hear any of it. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. He had to tell you now.

“I love you,” he interrupted. The words died on your tongue and you regarded him curiously, as if he’d grown a second head.

Apparently, there was a near manic look to his eye that prompted you to worriedly query, “Is something wrong, Steve—?”

Instead of answering, Steve stopped walking. He dropped down onto one knee, brandishing the ring box from his pocket, flicking it open. The realization broke across your features just a second later. Your eyes widened, and you reared back in shock.

And the words—the words just came tumbling out. Not at all what he’d scripted for months on end, but something entirely different. Something raw and unfiltered—purely from his heart. “I love you, more than I can ever put into words. You’re just—amazing, perfect in every goddamn way. I don’t want to go another day without calling you mine. I want to be yours, honey. All of me, every single bit of me, with all of you. It’s been an honor being your boyfriend. Really, it has, but I’m… I’m ready to be your husband, if you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”

There were tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You were only but a streak of color before you were yanking him forward, practically burying his face against your chest. He didn’t care that there was a rock digging into his knee. Barely even felt it.

The next moment, you were pulling away to yank him back up, kissing him like he was the very air you needed to breathe.

“Is that a yes?” he asked against your lips, slightly muffled. He was smiling, because he already knew your answer.

You nodded into the kiss, refusing to pull away. “I’d marry you a million times over, Steve. Again and again and again, until you get sick of me.”

“Could never get sick of you,” he whispered, forehead leaning over yours. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The two of you broke apart minutes later, reluctantly, though you had permanent smiles etched across your faces the entire way back home. The ring fit you perfectly.

When the news broke to the rest of the Avengers, they all erupted into an array of groans and cheers, and multiple wads of cash were passed around. Natasha sent the two of you a pleased wink. You two just landed her a combined total of a hundred bucks, but some secrets were simply better left unsaid.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers drabbles #steve rogers ff #steve rogers x you

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rookthorne · 9 months

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

The urge, while powerful and all-consuming most of the time, never burned this hot. It was always temperable, until it wasn’t — and there was one way to make it better, it was just a good thing that a certain someone was just as much of a trouble maker as you were.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ༄ Fireman!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Fireman!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ༄ 1.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ༄ Fluff, aftercare, Bucky is a lil' shit ჻჻჻ SMUT: Fingering (F receiving), masturbation (M), somnophilia, unprotected piv, Dom/Sub/Brat (Dom/Brat!Bucky + Dom!Steve + Sub!Reader) ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, daddy, degredation, voyeurism, exhibitionism

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༄ @sgt-seabass chose this one, so I am entirely innocent here. No, I don't have a habit of deflecting, what do you mean?

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ༄ Cravin' by Stileto, Kendayle Paige

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ༄ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 9 — 'S' Week (Somnophilia) — Masterlist ༄ @allcapsbingo 𝗚𝟱 — Waking Up Together — Masterlist

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It wasn’t often that you dreamed. Nor was it often that you felt so… lonely — so empty.

Not when you had two men sharing the bed you slept in — one fast asleep, the other just dozing lightly, their shared heavy breaths waking you fully from your fitful sleep.

In a state of half consciousness, you took stock of your body — your hips felt loose, and you couldn’t help but wriggle in the sheets, just a little. Taking deep breaths felt like a laborious task, and you couldn’t help the small whimpers that left your lips as you stared at the profile of Bucky.

And your cunt — it ached something fierce, and the cavernous feeling of being empty intensified by the second, and it was rapidly becoming unbearable.

Bucky’s brow twitched and his lips parted on an exhale, and you watched with half lidded eyes as his head turned to face you. He was still fast asleep. “Fuck,” you murmured, wriggling a little more to see if changing the angle of your hips would help ease the ache — you were tired after all.

It only made it worse.

You whined breathlessly, and Bucky twitched, his eyes opening blearily as he scanned the room, before finally landing on your face — flushed and heated from arousal, your bottom lip swollen from you biting it. His brows furrowed in confusion as he stared, and you blinked slowly, still shifting your hips.

“You right, doll?” he rasped, one hand scratching his jaw, while the other came to rest on your waist. “Wha’s wrong? Where’s it hurt?”

Bless him, you thought.

Blinking rapidly, you canted your bare ass up into the air and angled it towards him. “Please, it hurts, daddy,” you whispered.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, realisation dawning on his sleepy features, and his hand moved to cup your ass in his palm. “Can’t have you hurtin’ now, can I?”

“No,” you answered, gripping the sheets between your fingers and bunching them painfully into your palm. “Wanna be fucked, daddy.”

Bucky grinned sleepily and sidled closer. “Y’know what, Cherry? Why don’t you fuck Stevie–he would love it,” he cooed, rubbing circles with his thumb over the skin of your ass. “Go on. Ride daddy.”

“But he’s asleep-”

“Doesn’t mean shit, baby,” Bucky soothed. “Take all of his cock–be a good girl for me.”

You whined quietly and pushed yourself up onto your elbows to better look at Steve. Fast asleep and face turned away from you, he was lying on his back with the comforter bunched at his hips to cover his naked form.

“Don’t you wanna be filled, baby?” Bucky asked, his lips now tracing the column of your throat. “Daddy has a load for you, sweetheart, you just have to take it.”

“Oh, god,” you moaned. “Please-”

“One sec, baby,” Bucky said, and you felt his hand wander down the cleft of your ass. “Spread those legs for me–good girl,” he praised just as your knees parted on instinct. “Have to make sure you can take him. Don’t need our girl hurtin’ taking all of daddy, do we?”

“No, fuck, daddy,” you gasped, the feel of his fingers tracing over your clit knocking the breath out of you. “Yes, feels good-”

“Almost ready,” Bucky replied, his fingers sinking deep into your cunt with no warning. You keened and rocked back against them, all while Bucky’s breath fanned over your ear and neck. “Such a good girl, just lay there for me–keep makin’ those pretty noises.”

You endured a few more minutes of him scissoring his fingers in your pussy to stretch you, and you panted and moaned through every second – pitch varied and volume increasing, but still, Steve did not wake up, not once.

The slick sounds of Bucky’s fingers grew louder. “Tha’s it, sweetheart,” he praised, pumping his fingers in and out. “I think you’re ready–what d’you think, baby? Ready for daddy’s cock?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding fervently. You could just feel Bucky’s grin against the skin of your neck, and his huffed laughter. “Please.”

“Go get ‘im, Cherry–show daddy who’s boss,” Bucky encouraged, helping you up and move to straddle Steve’s hips. The blond only stirred lightly, his nose scrunching in his sleep, but he didn’t wake. “Go on,” Bucky whispered, “take his cock like the good girl I know you are.”

“Okay,” you murmured, and you raised your hips up to better grip Steve’s flaccid cock in your hand.

“Tha’s it, good girl,” Bucky praised, and his hand reached out to take Steve’s cock. “Lemme guide, baby, I’ve gotchu.” You let go of Steve’s length, and took a deep breath as the sound of Bucky’s slick hand pumped his husband’s cock until he was semi-hard. “Alright, kitten, there you go.”

Slowly, ever so damn slowly, you sank down onto Steve’s cock – each inch made your breath hitch. He began to harden, but still, he did not wake up. “Daddy, daddy,” you whimpered, gripping Bucky’s forearm. “Fuck.”

“I know, sweetheart–sonofabitch is a heavy sleeper, isn’t he?”

“I want-”

“Hang on,” Bucky soothed, his hand rubbing up and down your thigh. “Is he hard–has his cock at least noticed that he’s in the prettiest cunt?”

A heavy breath left your lungs, and you nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah.”

Bucky grinned, a wolfish smile if you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, you ride him–and you ride him good, can you do that for me, Cherry?” You nodded again, rocking your hips slowly. “Atta girl, now take him. Don’t you go slow.”

You took one deep breath, a second, and then rocked your hips in earnest, your hands resting on Steve’s chest – which began to rapidly rise and fall, and his hips moved, causing a moan to fall from your lips.

Steve whimpered, moaned, and then shouted, “What- Fuckin’ hell, Cherry!” His eyes flew open, and his hands frantically gripped your hips. “Shit. Fuck, you feel-”

“She feels s’good, doesn’t she, babe?” Bucky purred, his mouth hovering over Steve’s shoulder. He bit down on the muscle with a low growl that Steve mimicked a second later. “Kitten was achin’, and I wanted to watch you get a taste of your own fuckin’ medicine. Cherry,” he called, loud enough to be heard over your pants for air – Steve’s cock was hitting all the right places and you revelled in the way he filled you. You looked at Bucky and met his gaze, smiling lazily. “Fuck him.”

“Yes, daddy,” you moaned, and you bounced on Steve’s cock, taking just what you deserved while the blond squirmed beneath you. “Fuck, feels good, need more-”

“Darlin’, honey, fuck-” Steve moaned, his hands lifting you up and down at a faster pace. “Goddammit, what the hell happened?”

“She was desperate, and she needed someone to fill that pretty pussy up–figured you’d want it to be your cock, honey,” Bucky cooed. You watched as Bucky turned Steve’s face to his and kissed him hungrily.

The lewd sound of your slicked cunt sliding up and down Steve’s fully hard cock filled the room, each pass of his cockhead over your walls hitting that spot perfectly. “Oh, fuck- Ah! Daddy, please,” you begged, your rhythm faltering the further the coil tightened. “Please!”

Steve pulled away from Bucky to look up at you. “Aw, honey,” he breathed, “you cockdrunk on me already? You feelin’ good?”

“Uh-huh,” you cried, your fingers scrambling over Steve’s chest as Bucky chuckled darkly. “Wanna cum!”

“You better let her cum, babe,” Bucky cautioned. “Poor thing woke me up. Now she needs you to fuck her back to sleep.”

Your stomach flipped at the sight below you – two identical hungry stares that would rival a wolf’s hunting glare, and you knew you were screwed. A small, pitiful whimper left your lips, and Steve grinned; all fucked out and sharp teeth aside. “Oh, I will.”

Steve’s hands, warm and rough, gentle and soft all at once, pulled you to his chest, and you felt his thighs move under you. You glanced over your shoulder for a singular second to see he had planted his feet on the mattress, and you had only one chance to catch your breath and gulp.

“Hold on, kitten,” Bucky called – the grin of triumph so clear in his tone.

“Wait- Fuck! Daddy!”

The sharp sound of skin slapping against wet skin filled the room again, this time, it was constant with the grunts of effort Steve let out as he fucked up into your cunt – each thrust a harsh drive into your heat that had you panting for breath. It was an onslaught like no other and tears welled along your waterline, as desperate to fall as you were to cum.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, darlin’,” Steve groaned, his grip tightening as he drove his hips up and up and up. “Such a good girl for me, taking what you want–know you want my fuckin’ load, huh? That what you want?”

“Yes!” you cried, your mouth falling open. “Please, daddy! Fuckfuckfuck-”

“She looks so good like this,” Bucky commented, his voice full of awe. “You close, kitten? You wanna cum?”

You opened your eyes and stared down at them – Steve with his chin tucked to his chest, a snarl of determination on his lips, while Bucky lay next to him, pumping his cock with his hand with a victorious smirk on his pretty lips. “Oh-”

“I think that’s a yes,” Bucky mused, nodding once. “Go on then, fuckin’ cum, you slut.”

Unbidden, your cunt clenched around Steve’s cock with the first flutter of your climax, and you hiccuped.

“Do that again, Buck,” Steve moaned, his voice hoarse. “She’s squeezin’ me, and I know she’s close.”

Bucky’s smirk morphed into a grin with as many sharp teeth as Steve’s, and he bit his lip as his hand sped up on his dick. “Oh, that so, kitten? You like being called a fuckin’ slut? What about a fucktoy–nothin’ but a fuckin’ fucktoy for us to use and fill, maybe even breed-”

“Fuck!” You screamed, you back bowing into Steve’s chest as your orgasm ripped through your whole body. “Daddy! Fuck–cumming! ‘M cumming!”

“Good fuckin’ girl!” Bucky called over your sobs, and you felt a hand on your thigh. “Tha’s it, let it out–soak Stevie, kitten, fuck, you’re gorgeous like this.”

Your chest spasmed in time with your cunt through the waves, and you distantly registered the loud roar from Steve just as you felt his cock twitch in your heat, his release coating your walls. A low moan came from beside you and you felt the warm, tacky residue of Bucky’s cum hitting your thigh and calf.

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, as you fell onto his chest, and his hands came to rest on your lowerback to cradle you close. “That’s it, honey–good girl, did so good for us.”

Shivers wracked your body and you hummed, relaxing into the warmth he offered. There was a rustle beside you, and Bucky said, “I’ll just get a towel. Hang on, baby.”

“You alright, darlin’?” Steve whispered, his fingertips running up and down your back. “Didn’t hurt ya?”

“No,” you slurred – the sated monster deep in your belly finally purring and content enough to let you sleep. “‘M tired, daddy.”

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” Steve urged, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ve gotchu, and Buck’ll clean us up, okay?”

You would have replied with a semblance of gratitude, but sleep pulled you under her waves and kept you there – the last thing you felt before succumbing was the brush of a soft cloth on your thighs, and the whispered words from both Steve and Bucky, “Such a good girl.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

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whereireid · 1 year

Text

˚ · . 𝐕𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: (mild) steve rogere x fem!reader x bucky barnes | masterlist

summary: It’s every woman’s dream to be married to Captain America, and by some stroke of luck, you are. Steve Rogers is as loyal and doting as he can possibly be - and you try to be the same. But that isn't always easy - especially when Steve's best friend, Bucky Barnes, is there and Steve never is.

— warnings: nsfw content: infidelity (reader x bucky), oral sex [f recieving], p in v (rough and soft)

It’s not that you don’t love your husband.

You do.

It’s just - he’s never here. At home. With you. And despite his best attempts at being a doting, loyal husband, Steve has other priorities - like saving the world. And it’s fine. It’s manageable.

Until it isn’t.

But Bucky - God, Bucky’s always here. Bucky Barnes, your husband’s best friend, who is nothing like your husband at all, and somehow all the same. To be nice, he’d offered to take you out for drinks, in a friendly, caring way, because your husband can't, and you’d been all mopey and pouty because of his absence. Bucky offered to take you out because your actual husband, Steve Rogers, is too busy saving the actual world to spend any quality time with you. Because unlike Bucky, Steve can’t live without a war, and you knew that before you married him.

Steve Rogers is a good man.

But you're not exactly a good wife.

It's not that you don't love your husband.

It's just that - well, when was the last time Steve went down on you? Or even kissed you? When was the last time you were pinned beneath him, writhing and crying out, being fucked so rough and good that you couldn't walk the next morning?

Well, you can't remember - and that’s the problem. It’s the whole reason you've ended up in this situation in the first place.

Bucky is so much like Steve. Maybe that's why you’re so attracted to him. Sure, physically he’s different - though just as muscular, he contrasts your husband with his big, intense ocean eyes and thick, brown hair. But Steve and Bucky are so tight-knitted, so close, because other than that, they are exactly the same.

Yet there’s one, major difference.

Bucky’s here, kissing you, pinning you below him, and your husband isn’t. Steve is absolutely nowhere to be seen.

There’s an overwhelming amount of guilt pulsating through you as Bucky’s fingers curl around your underwear. They’re wet, and arousal shamefully pools in your stomach as Bucky coos, his lips flickering upwards into a smirk.

“All this for me, doll?” Bucky asks, his voice rumbling through you as his tongue flattens against your cunt, circling against your clit.

The cool of his metal arm burns against the hot of your skin. Your legs jolt and warmth pools in your lower belly as his tongue skilfully swirls around your clit, his breath fanning against you. “Bucky,” you mumble out weakly, your fingers dancing in his hair, tugging at his long, brown locks softly, mewling as his stubble brushes harshly against your skin. "Bucky, this isn't right.”

“Then why are you so wet?”

You close your eyes in disgust at his words. His breath is husky, and you desperately want to push him away, tell him that you're happily married and that you don't want this. That you don't crave this. You want to push him away, really, really badly. Except there's no longer any fire set ablaze within you - no genuine desire to push him away, and curse at him for doing this with you. Instead, you beckon him in - shakingly opening your legs so he has better access to your cunt, and he thanks you by greedily nuzzling against you, his tongue flicking at your clit perfectly.

There's an ache within you that hasn't been dulled in months. An ache that is pulsating as Bucky's mouth works against your cunt magically. His tongue slides up and down your slits, teasing your hole before gliding back up to your clit and sucking softly, gently, like you're easily breakable. And perhaps you are - because you're withering and crying against him, bucking into his face like a goddamn cat in heat.

"This might just be the prettiest pussy I've ever seen," Bucky hums, pressing soppy kisses against your cunt, his fingers parting your slits slightly. Your cunt is perfect, pretty, and swollen, throbbing softly. "When was the last time he touched you, doll?"

"Bucky," you squeeze your eyes shut, your grip in his hair tightening as he pressed deliberate kisses against your clit, your knees wavering in response. “It - it doesn’t matter.”

He groans, pulling away from you, his stubble brushing against your thighs, leaving marks in its wake. "It’s been long enough for your pussy to be weeping like this for me. Jesus, doll, he’s been neglecting you. Neglecting this perfect little pussy of yours. Do you know how lucky he is to have you?"

Your eyes flutter shut, and your legs begin to close, no longer wanting Bucky's face pressed against your cunt. The guilt of having Bucky here, in your bed, in Steve's bed, is beginning to drown you. Because it's the contrary - Steve isn't lucky to have you. You're lucky to have Steve. Your Steve, whose saving the world right now, making sure a mother is reunited with her kids, smiling at press conferences, talking about you in every goddamn interview, and here you are.

With Bucky fucking Barnes between your legs, eyeing up your naked frame like you’re the most desirable woman he’s ever seen.

“Bucky, we really should stop,” you plead, slightly breathless as Bucky forces your legs apart again, his strength no match for your own. “I’m married.”

“Yeah, and look where that’s gotten you, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs, gliding his tongue up your cunt, stopping to pepper a kiss to your clit. “You’ve gotta husband whose never home. A husband who hasn’t-“ his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt, deliberate and slow, “-hasn’t made you cum in months. I mean, he’s practically leaving you celibate.”

“I vowed to stay loyal,” you squeak out as Bucky’s lips wrap around your clit again, his tongue skilfully flicking at your bundle of nerves. It feels so good - too good, and you grow warm and fuzzy and your toes begin to curl. “Oh my god, Bucky, I took a vow,” you say, but your words mean nothing now, falling on deaf ears. You’re cheating on Steve - you’re cheating on your husband, and it just feels so goddamn good.

Your orgasm is so close. So near. And you haven’t came without using your own fingers in months - and Bucky is just so perfect. He hums against your cunt, his fingers parting your slits so he can be extra attentive to your clit, his tongue swirling against the particularly sensitive bundle of nerves. You can’t speak, you can’t move; you just feel him, warm and fuzzy and clouded with ecstasy. You try to ignore how the sound of his moan when you cum against him makes you feel - try to pretend like Bucky’s enthusiasm isn’t making your stomach flip as you squirt hard against his face.

“Oh, that’s it, doll,” Bucky groans, nuzzling closer to your cunt, determined to ride you through your orgasm. Your thighs shake against him uncontrollably, and you feel humiliated as he gazes at you in awe. Like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. “You’re so good. So, so good.”

Your heart flutters when Bucky’s cock presses against your thighs. His hands palm your legs open, and he lets out a gentle hiss as his cock brushes against your wet cunt. It feels so wrong, so intimate to be in this position with him. Bucky’s eyebrows are furrowed together, his hands softly palming at the skin of your legs as he lines the tip of his cock up with your cunt.

“I took a vow,” you choke out quietly, regret tearing through you as Bucky pushes into you, slowly, softly. “Bucky, I took a vow!”

“He took a vow too, doll.” Bucky tells you gently, making note of how your nose crinkles when his cock brushes against the sensitive spot inside of your cunt. His hips pull backwards softly, his balls feeling full and heavy as he fucks you, fingers softly massaging at your thighs. “To be there for you. In sickness and in health. To be by your side, no matter what.. But where is he? He isn’t here.”

“He’s isn’t here,” you repeat solemnly, gasping as Bucky’s cock glides in and out of your cunt perfectly. The motion of his hips is steady and smooth, his cock glistening as he fucks you, and he treats you so gently, like you’re porcelain, fine china; something easily breakable.

It feels perfect. You haven’t been fucked in months. You haven’t been touched in months. How were you supposed to say no? Sure, you took a vow, but like Bucky said - so did Steve.

So, it doesn’t matter anymore. This thing with Bucky? It doesn’t matter anymore. Steve will never know because this is only going to ever be a one-night stand.

“Jesus, Bucky, harder,” you breathe, mewling as his hips begin to speed up, his cock stretching you out.

It burns. He’s stretching you and it burns, but surprisingly it feels good. You’re so tight - clenching down on him when his cock fucks against the sensitive spot inside of your cunt, trying to ignore your guilty conscience and instead focus on the pleasurable aspect of him rutting into you lewdly.

Bucky grunts, watching as your arousal pools around his cock, leaving a ring of white at the base of his length. You tremble beneath him, shake like a leaf, and he scoffs at how easy it is to force an orgasm out of you. You’re gasping and writhing below him already - the dirty sounds of your mouth echoing cruelly with the dirty sounds of your squelching cunt.

It doesn’t even matter to you anymore. None of this matters. You chase your own pleasure - desperate for it, bouncing against him eagerly. If Bucky wants you to feel good, you’re going to let him make you feel good. And Jesus Christ, he makes you feel more than good. You clench down around him again, your belly flooding with warmth, your vision going blurry, and you cum.

And it’s perfect. It’s everything. You’re clenched around him so tightly that it’s a hard job to continue fucking you, but he manages it - trying to hold his own orgasm until you’ve finished, because Bucky really, really doesn’t want to cum inside of you.

He really doesn’t.

But people don’t always get what they want. With one, slightly strangled groan, Bucky cums, his balls slapping against you frantically as he chases his own orgasm, unbothered by your shaking, trembling body beneath him.

“Bucky, I’m not on the pill,” you say, finally, gasping for breath as Bucky collapses on top of you, his lips peppering soft kisses against you. “Steve and I - we’re trying for a baby. I’m not on the pill.”

Bucky’s eyelids flutter shut slightly, and you try to ignore the rise of panic in your chest. “It’s fine. Doll, it’s fine, stop panicking, please.”

“Okay. Okay, Bucky.”

Trying for a baby. You and Steve are trying for a baby. At least, you spoke about it. Discussed it.

“We need to stop doing this,” you breathe, body melting into the mattress as Bucky pulls you closer to him, and you close your eyes, trying to ignore the burn of your throat as your eyes prick with tears. “I’m married.”

“I know.”

You shake your head. “I’m serious, Bucky. I’m - I’m married to your best friend.”

“I know.” Bucky blows out a breath, trying to ignore the sparks which shoot up his skin as your head nuzzles against his chest and you breathe his scent in, deeply. “We need to stop doing this.”

“We did stop. We stopped when Steve got back last time.” You toy with the fingers on his titanium arm, trying to calm down your racing heart. “Why do we keep doing this?”

Bucky hums, watching you anxiously fiddle with his fingers, trying to even out his breathing. “Because he isn’t enough for you,” he says softly, nuzzling you closer to his chest. “If Steve was just Steve, you’d have it all. He'd be enough. But he isn’t just Steve, he’s Captain America as well, doll, and that title will always come first. You know that.”

Steve Rogers is a good husband. A loyal husband, who goes back to his hotel room every evening and calls you and makes sure you’re okay. A loving husband, who sends you flowers randomly when he’s been away from home for far too long. A husband who lets you spend his money whenever and wherever you want to. Steve Rogers is a really, really good husband.

You’re just not exactly a good wife.

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angelltheninth · 5 months

Text

MCU Characters During a Blackout

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Willson, Loki, Thor, Natasha Romanoff, Stephen Strange, Peter Parker, Shang-Chi x Reader

Tags: fluff, cuddles, kissing, telling stories, protectiveness, literal sleeping together, warm drinks, power-use, teasing, sharing clothes

A/N: I don't know why Tumblr forced Labels on a few of these even though they had nothing but fluff but hopefully these are ok. What's the matter Tumblr? Too many hot characters for you?

Steve never wants you to be scared of a blackout. It's most likely just a power issue, if it was anything really bad he would have already gotten the call to action to stop it. Since there's nothing better for the two of you to do than wait for the power to come back why not cuddle up for a bit, he can tell you funny stories from his meetings and missions with his friends. He always wants to cuddle with you, to feel warm next to you instead of remembering the cold.

Bucky hopes you're not scared of the dark cause it looks like the powers gonna be out for a while. While it is he can light up some candles for the two of you, get the mood real romantic. For what you may ask? For all the kisses he's gonna give you today. You'll probably get tired of them by the time the power gets back but it's the price you'll just have to pay. It is a really hard task to do, so he'll need encouragement for a few hours.

Sam doesn't see much point in worrying about it. This could be a good opportunity for the two of you to talk more often. He misses you if he's being perfectly honest. He wants to talk to you when it's not just over the phone or late at night when he comes back. Both of you are usually pretty busy so now you can take it easy for a bit, no phone calls, no one to interrupt you. You can also get the occasional kiss if you really want, not like he could resist a cutie like you.

Loki takes this as a chance to tease the hell out of you. You can't escape his teasing when you can see him, let alone now. You feel kisses in the dark, his hands pulling you down onto him, then his whispers teasing you, making you all warm and hot under him. Alone in the dark, there are quite a few things you could do together, but it might be a bit clumsy, well for you at least, unless you memorized his body like he did yours.

Thor lifts you in his arms and carries you to bed. If there's a blackout there's really nothing for the two of you do other than bedroom activities. Sleeping of course. Get your mind out of the gutter for a bit. After you sleep you can tell him what you dreamt about and if it involved him in any special way. He always dreams about you, but he doesn't tell you all of the details. Perhaps now would be a good time to do so, but you first. And for that you got to sleep a bit.

Natasha promises to keep you safe until the power gets back on. She knows some people can get scared of the dark, especially when it's sudden like this. You have nothing to be scared of when you've got her by your side. Other than that her laptop still works and there are quite a few movies on there that you can pick from, maybe you can watch one to pass the time, or watch funny videos, something to take your mind off the darkness.

Stephen uses his magic to make balls of light that follow the two of you around when you walk so you don't run into anything and get hurt. He can heal you if it happens but it's better to prevent it. With his powers there's no blackout in his house really, but it's not fully lit up. It's almost like mood lighting when you really think about it. See, he can be romantic when he wants to be. Okay no, he didn't think about that part but it's a nice thought to have.

Peter makes you both a few cups of warm drinks to share while you wait for the power to come back on. Getting warm and cozy is the best thing to do now. The drinks are a little bit sweet, that way when you kiss the kisses will taste just a tiny lit sweeter then usual. He didn't plan that, honestly, but not that you said it yes, it's a very good benefit to have. He almost doesn't want the power to come back on, he's way too cozy with you against him.

Shang-Chi gives you his big hoodie so you're not cold while the power is still out. He knows you most likely wouldn't get sick but just knowing that you're wearing his clothes makes him happy. And if you get too warm he will be more than happy to take it off you as well. You know since there's a blackout he can't really do his usual training routine, but there are many other ways to work up a sweat. You can still wear his hoodie during it.

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lokisgoodgirl · 11 months

Text

A Gentlemen's Agreement [Reader x Loki/Steve/Bucky]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: It's time for you to make up your mind. And the boys have just the plan to help you do that. (w/c 3.2k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Teasing. Sexual tension. Not a foursome. A/N: Loki is my king. I just needed to get this out thanks to @sidepartskinnyjeans

The click of Steve’s dress shoes echoed as he ushered you away from the busy ballroom of Stark’s county house. Your nerves were fizzing, but your face didn’t betray the flutter of excitement growing in your belly. In the darkness of the mahogany lined corridor, firelight licked from a solitary open doorway. A nod from the captain urged you silently inside. Walking into the room, your breath hitched. Whatever you had expected from his clandestine invitation in the crowd, this wasn’t it.

Steve circled around you, taking his place in the menacingly sensual line-up. There they stood in quiet stoicism, dressed in fitted finery – the trio of beneficiaries to your relentless flirtations. Their arms were folded, their legs wide in triangular determination. For the briefest of moments, you wondered how all of them had managed to excuse themselves from the party at once. But seeing the way they were taking up space, stretching the air with their achingly large egos, that question was quickly forgotten. Each was more breathtakingly handsome than the last. Rogers. Barnes. Laufeyson. “What is this?” you giggled nervously, snapping to each set of blue eyes in turn. They began to smirk in unison. You shivered despite the heat from the fire. “S’come to our attention you’ve been pulling the same tricks on all of us,” the winter soldier drawled, his accent thick with playful taunt. You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t know what you-” “Oh, I think you do, Agent,” Laufeyson hummed, tilting his head. Long fingers drummed on his bicep as he rocked on his heels. Roaring firelight was haloed behind the ebony mane that cascaded around the shoulders of a midnight-blue suit sitting snug to his body. You pressed your lips together, stifling a whimper. “Look fellas, she’s blushing," Steve teased. The three of them chuckled. “I don’t blush,” you snipped, folding your arms to match them. “And I’d appreciate if you could tell me why the three of you are lined up like...like…” The words you searched for ebbed as you readjusted your feet. It was all you could do not to go over on your ankle in these stupid heels. Heat was building between your thighs, the unmistakeable thump of arousal beating as your addled thoughts raced beneath their penetrating stares.

You knew exactly what Bucky meant. And now it seemed, so did they. You knew bending over to pick up that pen in front of all three of them yesterday was a bad idea. Although, no one in the world would blame you – working with three of the finest specimens of masculinity ever created. Had you gone out your way to tease and flirt with each one of them over the past several months? Possibly. But hey, it was good for morale. And besides, there wasn’t a hope in hell any of them would return your affections. Not serial-bed hopper Barnes, he didn’t fuck where he ate. Not tightly wound Rogers, you seriously doubted he’d approve of subordinate relations. And as for the ice king – you weren’t even sure he knew your name.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. God, you wished it wasn’t so hot. Your eyes searched the floor, hearing Loki clear his throat. “As Barnes noted, you have been toying with each of us in a manner both indecent and egregious these past months.” He let the rhetorical judgement marinate in silence before continuing. “Do you deny it?” You raised your eyes to his, seeing the embers of mischief smouldering within. “No,” you said confidently, as all three men cast conspiratorial glances to one another. Rogers balanced his elbow on a tight fist, raising his fingers to his chin. He narrowed his eyes. “That dress though fellas," he growled with uncharacteristic lust. "Have you ever seen such a thing?” Barnes snorted. “Forget two birds with one stone, that outfit takes out three cocks with one hit.” His blue eyes were dark in the low light, heavy brows shadowing the contours as his chin dipped. “An assassin, even off the clock.” he grit. “And she knows how much I love that neck.” While he was speaking, you instinctively brushed a strand hanging from your up-do away from the boatline collar of the dress. He was right. You did know. You had known ever since the first of his ragged breaths, tangible desire pulsing in his veins and stretching his trousers as he massaged your shoulders. The first time you had asked, he had thought you were joking. But every time you felt the cool flatness of his metal limb against your spine, steadying you as his fingers found every pocket of tension in your upper body – both you and he knew it was no laughing matter. Had you exaggerated the moans of pleasure his touch released? No. There had been no need. It felt fucking phenomenal. Orgasmic, even. And you hadn’t held them back. Your neck had extended to the side as his fingertips pulsed into the most delicate areas, breathy pants filling the air that you hoped made him think of how you would sound as he fucked you into the headboard. “And she knows how much I love those legs,” Steve smouldered, curling a finger against his lips as his gaze ran from your hips to the floor and back again. The dress stopped midway up your thighs, perfectly tight before the sheer drop of your limbs to the heels. You had caught him staring open-mouthed as you pulled yourself dripping wet from the ocean on a mission in the Seychelles months ago. His face had flushed as you’d clocked him running up your femurs, a bite of his lip betraying the base need boiling beneath an all-business exterior.

On every mission, you now made a point of elevating your leg as you snapped on the holsters, lunging forward against the nearest bench. Wall. Anything to drive him mad. You wondered how often he thought of your legs wrapped around his hips while his tactical suit lay strewn around his ankles. Without fail, his teeth always found their way to his bottom lip; a clench of his ass and a forbidden husk of ‘goddam’ under his breath making you smirk as you turned away. “And I think not that I need to point out what aspect of the offending garment is for me,” Loki purred, releasing the cross of his arms to fall behind his back in a ceremonial clasp. “It’s green," Bucky stated, licking his lips. “Yes," Loki replied in baritone, cheekbones sharpening. “It is.”

Loki. Now that was a story. Yes, you had felt the linger of his keen eyes on your ass. But who hadn’t. And yes, his gravelled pleasantries that always dripped a little closer than necessary into your ear were tempting. But the god was a walking temptation. It was his nature. He was indiscernible, a mystery. Aside from briefings, the longest you had ever spent in his company had been when he would extend his hand wordlessly on nights just like this, leading you the dance-floor. All onlookers would see was the standard wrapping of his arms around your waist, and yours over his shoulders. They did not see the small circles grazed on the nape of his neck beneath his curls, the half-innocent moans released by his ear when he brought you in from a spin. They did not see the lingering play of your fingers on the delicate skin of his wrists, the bite of your lip as Loki’s hips pressed into your stomach. A solitary flame in a sea of cold indifference. You’d take any heat from him could you get. They didn’t see his brows twitch as he registered the green lingerie down the carefully calculated neckline of your dress. Just for him. Your breathing had becoming shallow. Were you actually about to have all three of them at once? Was that even physically possible? Two super-soldiers and a god? You didn’t know if you would survive – but something told you it might be worth it. Positions and logistics raced through your mind, making you dizzy. You shook your head.

“OK you got me, I fancy all of you. So what? It’s just a bit of fun,” you gasped, running sweaty palms casually down the front of your dress. “The fellas and I have an idea, if you’re agreeable of course,” Steve said slowly, following Loki in clasping his hands behind his back. You squinted, congratulating yourself for encouraging the captain’s foray into unbuttoning the top of his shirts. His pulse was racing, you could see it pumping beneath his jawline. Bucky still stood with his arms loosely crossed over a waistcoat, the cotton of his thick white shirt bulging against metal and flesh. A sliver of steel glinted in the firelight, sleeves folded up to the elbows. He nodded once, without a flicker of a smile. Fuck, they all looked so good. “A gentlemen’s agreement, if you will,” Loki uttered, a smile curling on his lips. He’d been waiting to deliver that line, you could tell. “You like us. We like you. But we don’t share," Bucky glowered matter-of-factly. You could feel the thin fabric of your panties sticking to your lips, tacky and unbearably wet from this erotic ambush. “You don’t?” you quipped. “What a shame.” “We don’t," Steve repeated. “At least not ye-” he cast a glance to Bucky, before clearing his throat. “We think it’s important you uh...focus your attentions. If that’s what you wanna do.” A sudden thrill raced through your blood. The idea that they had planned this, that they had spoken about you in hushed whispers behind closed doors made your pussy hum with forbidden pleasures.

You wandered to the antique sofa to the side, feeling the heated stares of each of the men follow you. “What’s this gentleman’s agreement, then?” you purred, crossing your legs. Steve swallowed as the tight emerald fabric rode up your thigh. The god of mischief laughed softly, a deep sound which seemed to shake the room like bass.

“Each of us will kiss you, and then you must decide,” he said matter-of-factly. “The unsuccessful will respect your choice of victor and no retaliation will be made.” “Decide?” “Which of us to get to know better," Steve explained, shrugging off his suit jacket. He threw it gently over his shoulder, making it land on the back of a chair behind him with magnetic finesse. Bucky rolled his eyes. “I think what the captain’s tryna say is that we all wanna get to know you, better. So it’s lady’s choice,” he winked. You raised an eyebrow towards Loki. You couldn’t imagine him ever agreeing to something like this. A solitary nod was his only response, eyelashes fluttering down in a moment of panty-wetting reverence. “I accept,” you said slowly, running your eyes across the line-up. Their competitive sincerity was catching. You wet your lips in anticipation, still in disbelief that this was actually happening. Perhaps your corpse was lying strewn on the dance-floor, paramedics hoisting you onto a trolley in a body-bag. Perhaps this was heaven. And maybe it was the low lighting, or maybe it was the dancing shadows licking their wide bodies stacked with endless muscle. But you could swear that each and every one of them was hard. “As discussed. Thirty seconds,” Loki murmured coolly to the men standing to attention on his right, flourishing a hand. Barnes stepped forward, smoothing long strands of chestnut hair behind his ears.

“Alright,” he growled confidently, swaggering the several steps and planting onto the sofa beside you. His thighs spread against the antique furniture, flexing beneath the tight suit trousers as he twisted his torso to face you. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, smoked wood and lingering sage like a wet autumn forest. His hand cupped your jawline, the steel arm resting on the back of the curved rest.

“Here goes nothin,” he whispered to himself, curled digits trailing longingly down the curve of your neck. They tugged at the neckline of your dress, slipping it over the curve. He leant forward, parted lips colliding with the crescent of your shoulder. Your eyelids fluttered closed, a staggered moan you didn’t realise was hiding released as he worked across your skin. His stubble tingled against the delicate surface, the flat of his nose slotting beneath your ear as his kisses became hungrier against your pulse point. Less delicate. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, darlin',” he rasped, before licking licentiously from the base of your throat to the angle of your jaw. In seconds, his mouth was pressed to yours; tongue eagerly flicking against your lips before you let him enter. Bucky’s moan was dynamite, fingers guiding your chin as he devoured you in targeted desire. He leant you backwards into the cushions while your arm instinctually slid between his shoulder-blades, pulling him closer. Barnes groaned as his hand slid covetously from your waist and up the curve of your breasts, before burrowing deep into your bun. He thrust gruffly against you on instinct, something thick and menacingly primal dragging against your thigh. The feeling of his fingers tugging at your scalp sent your heat into overdrive, clenching desperately around air. “Time,” Loki purred calmly. Stubble scratched a final time, your hand flying to rest on his metal arm as you breathlessly broke apart with a whimper. Barnes winked, the skin surrounding his mouth pink as he rose and re-joined the other two. You cast glances between them while your chest heaved.

“Do you need a moment?” Steve inquired politely, folding the sleeves of his shirt up further. You watched the veins in his muscled forearms tighten with the movement, the slight bend of his knees as he gave a deferential cough. As if he’s preparing for a fight, you thought as your head continued to spin from Bucky’s kiss. “No, I’m good,” you slurred, smiling as you straightened and patting the sofa beside you. “I prefer it standing, if that’s alright,” Steve said tentatively, brow twitching in mild alarm as he saw your eyes widen. But he didn’t retract it. Standing obediently, it suddenly occurred to you that a kiss on the hand would be very on brand for him, perhaps rethinking his part in this atypical charade. But Steve paced towards you, looking as determined as he did striding down the ramp of the quinjet. Your breath hitched as the captain’s hands cupped your face, walking you expertly back towards the walled bookcase. A shelf pressed against your spine while Rogers bore down, his gentle tongue nudging at your lips; and with a whimper, he breached. The warmth of the muscle caressing your own made your knees wobble. Hard, rippling abdominals pressed flush against your chest, pinning you softly beneath Keats and Wordsworth while his hands began to smooth over your shoulders, over your waist. You felt like the poets would approve. Steve moaned into your mouth as his palms slid possessively down your thighs, grunting as he whipped them forwards effortlessly around his waist. You yelped in surprise before his lips swallowed yours again, ankles crossing around taut hips. The heat from his skin warmed the scent of ginger wafting from the base of his collarbone, its spice firing in your nostrils. The kiss was hungry and desperate and wild. You could feel his solid cock rubbing against your stomach, tasting every inch of your passion as his fingertips dug into the soft flesh beneath your ass. He thrust softly with every wax and wane of his jaw, needy fingers running through his newly mussed golden hair. You pulled greedily before there was a soft clear of someone’s throat. It sounded like Loki. “Time,” Bucky barked, and reluctantly, Steve returned you to the ground. Still in a daze, and with palms spread against the bookcase, your eyes fell on the final figure. “Believe me…” Loki purred condescendingly, “you’ll wish to sit down for this.”

With shaking steps you teetered to the sofa, plonking down with a sharp intake of breath. Loki glided towards you, elegantly manoeuvring his long limbs aside your own. He brought a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back. “You are so beautiful.” he murmured, before pressing in to a firm, chaste kiss. One of your hands flew to his thigh, running your palm over the hard, forbidden mass concealed tight and thick beneath the cotton. You desperately keened into him, tongue searching against closed lips. Loki withdrew with a chuckle, sweeping the hair from one side of his head. “If you wish me to stop, tell me,” he whispered hot in your ear, a wave of amber and spices and decadence filling your senses before he slipped from the sofa to his knees. Your eyes widened as he gently spread your legs. “The rules did not specify where I could kiss you.” he explained softly, pre-empting the questioning thrill lighting your eyes. Disgruntled huffs from Bucky and Rogers barely registered as you felt a cool tingle of the god’s magic dissolve your favourite underwear.

Loki’s smouldering gaze latched to yours, lust-drunk and determined, before it fell to the glistening mess at his eye level. “Do you consent to my audition?” he hummed, tentatively pushing the sides of your dress to the tops of your thighs. Your stare flickered to Steve and Bucky, suspiciously observing Loki on his knees with pure jealousy. "Yes," you heard yourself murmur under your breath. Fresh arousal was seeping from your centre, spreading down your heated skin. You had never wanted anything more. "Louder, please," Loki smirked, the curve of his fingers fastened to your knees. “Yes, Loki...g-god-” you gasped, brow furrowing as you urged him on with a tilt.

Immediately, his tongue licked a wide, earth-shattering stripe up your slit from base to tip. Your head fell back with a rattling moan, one hand combing through his hair as the other gripped the armrest. Loki quickly moved your legs over his shoulders, sliding you further back. The god’s open mouth latched to your swollen clit, sucking and lapping lower with sinful precision. All you could see was his dark curls and proud brow, the sight of the god buried between your open thighs making reality blur. Every caress made your hips thrust further into his mouth, shaking breaths shuddering your body as he moaned against your wet heat. The noises he made were utter devastation, muffled pants and enthusiastic slurps sounding between your splayed legs as he ate you out like a starving man. Behind your eyelids, you could feel the covetous gazes of the two soldiers rolling over your body as Laufeyson’s fingertips dug into your calves like a hunter. “T-time,” Steve choked. “No!” you gasped, pawing at Loki’s cheek in despair. The god smiled, chin glistening while closing your trembling knees in a move that could only be described as gentlemanly. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, unfurling and retreating backwards to the line-up with his arms spread in a show of feigned innocence. You panted, gathering your thoughts as your gaze landed on each of them in turn. “Lady’s choice,” Bucky re-iterated gruffly, widening his legs. Beside him, the captain’s fingers rested wide on his hips, biting his lip while his eyes lingered on the fresh sheen of sweat clinging to your legs. Loki raised a finger absent-mindedly to the corner of his mouth, brushing the edge before sucking it clean to the second knuckle. His eyes smouldered, fixed on you, the flicker of firelight casting deep shadows in hollowed cheekbones. You took a deep breath, the only name it was ever going to be dancing on the tip of your tongue.

🤷‍♂️ For those who want a bit...more - A Gentlemen's Bond is the follow up to this.

Tags @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf

#loki x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #loki x steve x bucky x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #marvel men #loki x female reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #loki fanfiction #marvel imagine #loki imagine #loki marvel #loki x reader smut #steve rogers smut #bucky smut

1K notes · View notes

morganbritton132 · 8 months

Note

Eddie: Just so you know, I don’t have a hall pass, but if I did I would at least show it to you

Steve: You’re not?? In school?? Why would you have a hall pass???

Eddie: *thinks about it*

Eddie: Ohhhhhh. It seems I have made a mistake

Steve: *still confused* What did you do this time?

This is a conversation that happens fifteen minutes after Eddie asks who else Steve has as a hall pass other than Mr. Rogers and Steve, who still thinks this is a very intense conversation about the hall passes he uses in his classroom (which are just rulers with quotes written on them), is like, “One of them is unknown.”

“How is one of them unknown?!”

“Let’s stop talking to each other. You’re annoying me.”

So, they’re currently not talking.

They are sitting on opposite ends of the couch in the living room. Steve is on his iPad, an episode of The Big Bang Theory is playing on the TV, and Eddie is sitting there. Staring. Thinking.

He’s thinking about all the times Steve got jealous of fans thinking he’s hot or about the time he accidently brushed lips with an actress when he was giving her a congratulatory kiss on the cheek and she moved her head. Steve didn’t answer any of his calls for a week. He thinks all this and then he says in a voice that is prim and haughty, “Just so you know. I don’t have a hall pass, but if I did. I would at least show them to you.”

Steve, the human embodiment of that confused white monkey meme, is just like, “Why would you have a hall pass?????”

“Why do you have one!”

“Because? I’m? A? Teacher??????” Steve asks. “You. Don’t. Work. In. A. School!!”

Eddie opens his mouth and then closes it. Then he says, “Oh.”

“Ohhhhh,” He says again and then cringes because he’s going to have to explain the last half hour of their lives. He gives Steve an apologetic look, “I appear to have…made a mistake.”

“What did you do.”

Eddie kinda resigns himself to the fact that’s going to have explain his thought process and Steve is definitely going to tell Robin about it, and Jesus, if Erica finds out…. Or.

He could fake an asthma attack.

He is very tempted to fake an asthma attack.

“Eddie, what did you do??”

#great prompt! 10/10. Hilarious #Eddie posts his Tiktok reenacting this convo to take the wind out of everybody’s sails.#I love the idea of Eddie not getting jealous that Steve thinks other people are attractive just that he doesn't know about it #Meanwhile Steve gets jealous if other people think they have a chance with Eddie #eddie munson tiktok saga #eddie munson #steve harrington

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jtargaryen18 · 7 months

Text

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 32

Part 32: The Rising

Series Masterlist

Words: 8k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, references to sexual violence. Strong language. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Steve was aware of was the softness of her touch. The delicate stroke of her fingertips dancing nervously over his forearm, his hand. Slowly, the scent of her perfume invaded his senses that were just beginning to return. It was a comfort in the sea of perfect darkness all around him.

Knowing his wife was alive, at his side, was everything to him.

Her teardrop on his skin made his heart squeeze in his chest. The low sound of her crying in the quiet of the room. He tried in vain to open his eyes, to move his hand. To speak. None of his commands were answered so he could comfort her.

But he was here now. That was something, right? That he was awake? Aware?

Steve needed to get back to her and his life in the worst way.

“Steve,” you whispered, leaning closer to him. “I’m so tired… “

Steve knew she probably couldn’t sleep under the circumstances. He had no idea how long he’d been out of the loop. Now he was coming back to life, restless. All he really wanted to do was hold her, watch over her while she slept.

And while he held her safe and sound, he’d begin planning his takedown of fucking Barnes.

The press of her lips against his pulled him out of his thoughts. Another hot tear dotted his cheek. Her sadness had him trying in vain to move, to let her know he was there. He was with her.

She was so strong, his beautiful wife. She’d been wounded and without him, she was alone. Afraid. Did Barnes or the other families know what happened? Were they all in any danger from Barnes? Or Hansen?

She carefully climbed onto the bed to lie next to him. It made him happy to have her so close, warm at his side. All he could do was to be there with her.

“Steve, you have to come back to me,” she said with tears in her voice, a fear he’d never heard from her bleeding onto her tone. “So far, most of them haven’t figured it out… That you’re out of commission.”

No one knew? Had Dyson told her that?

Her fingers danced over his chest, his heart. She was careful to keep her weight off him, but he wanted it. He wanted the warm press of her body against his. It felt so good to have her there, so close.

And she wanted him back. She loved him. She told him she loved him before she left for Hansen’s that fateful day.

“He figured it out,” she said, sniffling. “He knew it wasn’t you who did…”

Who figured it out? Figured what out?

Steve’s sluggish heart sped up at that, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“We haven’t heard anything yet,” she whispered. “I don’t think he’s dead. If he were, I feel like we would have heard something by now.”

Who was dead? Dread pushed him to fight harder to get back to the surface.

A soft sob from her had fear battling heartache in his chest. Why did she sound so broken? What had happened? How long had he been out?

“I couldn’t even do it when the time came,” she whispered. “I’m so ashamed, Steve. I was right there, sitting next to him on the bench. He had no idea who I really was. He had no idea why he was really there.”

Who? Steve would have screamed it if he could have. What couldn’t she do? His fears escalated as he waited for her to continue.

“I really hope we killed him, Steve,” she said quietly. “I don’t think we did though. Yelena said the poison would do damage, could shut down his vital organs… But we would have fucking heard something by now, right? If Barnes really died?”

Steve was trapped in his body, in the darkness, with growing fear. She’d confronted Barnes? Tried to kill him with poison? Poison Belova gave her?

Belova was supposed to be cast out of his household.

Anger pushed against fear then. He’d thrown Belova out because she got in his wife’s head, encouraged her rebellious behavior. She was supposed to protect his wife, not lead her into danger.

“You’ve got to wake up,” she begged him. “Please... We struck back at Barnes. To protect this family. To protect your position… But if he wakes up… He suspects all the things we’ve done were me, not you. He called me an evil bitch…” Her laugh was bitter, choked out by tears. “If he’s still alive, he knows the truth. It’s only a matter of time, Steve, until he comes after us. After me. Please, for the love of God, you’ve got to wake up.”

What did they do? As much of a force as his wife was, particularly with Belova backing her, he couldn’t imagine that whatever danger they’d gotten was done without Dyson knowing about it.

As he understood it, they’d done something to Bucky. Poisoned him. They didn’t know the other man’s status. Was he dead? Alive? If he was still alive, it sounded like he’d be coming for them.

Coming for his wife.

“I knew I’d find you here.” Belova. The sound of a door closing.

His wife didn’t move. If nothing, she snuggled closer to him.

“Have you heard anything?” his wife asked.

“No, there’s no word,” Belova said. “And no news is good news.”

“I can’t take this anymore,” his wife said, her voice breaking. “Steve’s still out and every minute of every day I have to worry… We’re so vulnerable right now.”

“So is Barnes,” Belova told her.

“The other families have to be wondering what the hell is going on,” his wife said.

“There are questions,” Belova said. “There are rumors and stories. Very little of it is anywhere close to the truth.”

“Something’s got to give,” his wife said. “Barnes is either out of it like Steve or he’s biding his time. Waiting for the right moment to finish this.”

“You can’t dwell on this,” Belova’s voice was closer now. “Steve will come back to you.”

“Yes.” She sounded so small, unsure.

“And when he’s back, he’ll take it from there.”

“What do you mean?” his wife asked.

“We hit Barnes on a very personal level,” Belova explained. “That’s the way it’s done. Barnes may be just fine right now and carefully planning his next move. And he needs to think long and hard on whatever action he takes. The Starks are partial to the Rogers family. So are the Wilsons.”

“How many times is Dyson going to be able to hold them off when they call,” his wife wanted to know. “We don’t have much time left. If Steve would just wake up… He’s going to kill me.”

Steve wasn’t going to let it go. That was for damn sure.

Belova laughed softly as his wife fought back tears. “He may be proud of you. I am.”

Sniffling, his wife said, “If he’ll just wake up, I don’t care. He can keep me locked away for a year, whatever. I just need him to be okay. To come back to me.”

Steve couldn’t have heard that right. He was out of it. His wife could make any decision his men would allow. And for her, his men would allow quite a lot. And she was worried about him.

“He will,” Belova told her. “He loves you… But be ready. He’s going to be pissed when he finds out what’s been going on while he was out. Kicking me out again will probably be the first order he gives.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“No,” his wife said. “I won’t allow it. You are my personal protection. He agreed to that. And I can’t think of a time when I’ve needed protection more, right?”

A sigh. “Your husband may not see it that way.”

“I don’t care,” she said petulantly. “He can wake up and bitch at me about it. I’d love that. But you’re not going anywhere, Yelena. I need you.”

Steve again tried in vain to open his eyes, to speak. To move anything. Surely it was only a matter of time before he could, right? Now that he was aware, it wouldn’t be long. He had no idea how long he’d been like this, but it was past time he got back to his life. To his wife.

***

The next time Steve woke up, he was alone. He couldn’t hear anyone else in the room. Steve wished his wife was still there. He missed the warmth of her, the smell of her.

The chiming of his phone on his nightstand played again and he realized it woke him up. On the third chime, Steve reached for the phone and then his eyes flew open when he realized what he’d done. That he’d moved.

His eyes flew open. Tapping the screen, he answered the call, bringing his shaking hand with the device closer to his body so he didn’t drop it. Steve felt so weak.

“Yeah,” he muttered for an answer. His voice sounding as rough as a bad country road.

“There he is,” Tony Stark said with a smile in his voice. “I told Dyson if I didn’t talk to you today, I was coming over there. I asked him if you were too important to talk to me now.”

Steve snorted and it was an uglier sound than he expected from who knew how many days of disuse. “Too busy,” he managed.

“I guess, damn.” Tony laughed. “I have to admit, Barnes came in hot once the crown was on your head. I was getting worried about how you’d handle it all. How you’d handle Barnes.” Tony laughed again. “That was brutal.”

Oh, God. I don’t even know what they did…

“I know you were being… magnanimous before,” Tony went on. “I get that. But when you decide to deal with things, well…”

“Barnes had it coming,” Steve said, his voice a little stronger with each word. No matter what they’d been up to since he’d been out, Barnes deserved it. He had no doubt about that. “He left me no choice.”

“Hey, I’m not questioning you, big guy,” Tony told him. “Really, I’m not. Just curious when we were all going to collectively talk about how this is going to go. What’s going to happen to Barnes, stuff like that.”

Steve’s hand shook so badly, he passed the phone to his left hand. “Soon,” Steve told him. “We had some injuries.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, “about that. How are you? There are rumors flying around that you got shot or Dyson got shot. A couple even said your wife had been hit.”

His wife had been shot. And he’d been more terrified for her than himself in those moments after the shot fired. Steve had been fucking terrified, so terrified he hadn’t felt the bullet strike him at the time. But he was grateful. She hadn’t mentioned a thing about her injury or any effects from it. That was good. Maybe it meant she was on her way to fully healed.

“My wife was hit,” Steve said, fighting to speak as he normally did. “My top lieutenant was threatened. I can’t have that.”

“Absolutely,” Tony said, still sounding supportive. A tone designed to let Steve know where the Stark family stood in everything. Tony Stark had always been proactive. It was appreciated. “You needed to give the bastard something to think about.”

“I did,” Steve told him. “Do. I’ll be in touch very soon to call a meeting.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tony told him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Steve blew out an exhale, feeling tired from just the conversation. But damn it, he was awake now, and he needed to get back up to speed as quickly as possible. They were all likely still in some danger from Barnes, his family.

“I’ll let you know if I think of something,” Steve told him.

Ending the call, he dropped the phone onto the bed. The edges of his vision threatened him, fading to black. He broke out in a cold sweat, very much afraid if he blacked out now, he might get stuck again or worse.

Steve just had to face it. He needed to recover physically and there was nothing he could do to rush that.

And he needed to catch up. He needed to know what was done when. He’d have to accept responsibility for those actions to protect his family, his wife.

It was slow going and took a lot of effort but after several minutes, he was able to sit up, swing his legs over the side of the bed. His vision was dark around the edges, his breath came fast, and he broke out in a cold sweat from his efforts, but damn it, he did it.

***

You spun and moved through the Waltz of the Flowers, focusing on remembering the port de bras, the steps. You saw the ballet in New York during one of your secret trips and came home begging your instructor to help you learn anything from it. In that last year you lived in the home where you grew up, you’d worked hard to learn the small role from one of your favorite ballets. Oh, it wasn’t the Dewdrop Fairy, the leader fairy of the dance that no one seemed to even know existed. You were learning the dance of the supporting flowers from the classic story and that was good enough for you. That was plenty for you at the time.

Today, with everything preying on your mind, you’d gone back and watched the dance on YouTube first to remember all the steps. Anything to keep busy, to occupy your mind.

Was Steve coming back to you? You didn’t care if he really did beat your ass if he did. You’d take it. You just needed him back.

There you were in the studio Dyson helped you set up. There was still pain in your shoulder, but it was better each day. You had on your black leotard and tights. A fresh bandage covered your wound. It was chilly so you pulled an old sweatshirt for warmth before fitting into your pointe shoes.

You started the music with your phone and fell into those simple steps. The slower graceful dance of the flowers. And after the first minute or so, it all came back to you. The gentle spins, releve, plie. You didn’t imagine the dewdrop fairy you were supposed to be dancing around at first, not the other dancers. This dance was for you. A solo flower from a magical Christmas land far away.

A lone black flower from a funeral arrangement?

No. Shaking your head, you fought back tears and started the dance.

It was really the only thing that gave you any peace the last few days. Lost to the dance, the music took your mind off looking out the windows every few seconds to see if Barnes had shown up to kill you all yet. To kill you. Because you knew by now, he must really want to.

It also kept you from sitting by Steve’s bedside and crying for hours.

As much as you could remember, you moved through the steps of the dance. It wasn’t that good at first. But as you visualized it, worked through the dance in your mind, your dance got better, your movements more graceful as you moved. As you swept back to make room for the Dewdrop Fairy in your mind to come dancing back, you saw something in the corner of your eye. But as you came to a stop with the next step, you froze.

It was Steve, awake, looking washed out and weak as he leaned against the wall, watching you. He’d wrapped his bathrobe around himself, his feet were bare. The intensity of that blue-eyed expression took your breath away. He smiled as relief took you to your knees. All you could do was stare to see your husband was awake, finally. And you knew he was going to be pissed at you. So pissed. But you scrambled to your feet and sprinted for him, skidding to a stop when you realized you needed to be careful with him because of the wound, the stitches.

Wrapping your arms around his neck carefully, you couldn’t help but kiss him with tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

Steve kissed you back with a ferocity that surprised you as weak as he must have been. You let him. You were just so happy he was awake. Alive. Sure, all hell could break loose any minute now within the prominent Boston crime families but Steve coming back to you was the most important thing. The only thing. Everything else, with his lips sliding against yours, seemed less important in that private moment.

Steve shook in your grasp as he kissed you. Concern had you breaking that. As much as you’d like to think it was from that passionate moment, you didn’t want him to pass out on you. Not when you just got him back.

He let you steer him towards one of the folding chairs you kept in the studio, mostly to set your items on. You swept it all out in the floor as you urged him to sit and carefully, he did. But his gaze never left you. The man was staring at you with something like… awe?

“You’re okay?” he asked carefully.

You nodded, pulling the loose neckline of the sweatshirt you wore to show him the bandage. “It doesn’t hurt much now. I’m just fine Steve. Thanks to you.”

“You’ll have a scar,” he warned.

“I don’t care,” you told him, swiping at the tears with your hands. “Steve, you took a bullet for me. Why did you do that? Why were you even there?”

His eyes were suspiciously glossy as he stared at you. “I decided about five minutes after you left that I couldn’t risk losing you. I needed to be there. To protect you. It’s even scarier to think if I hadn’t been there, I would have lost you.”

A chill ran up your spine to consider he was right.

“I think you’re really glad to see me,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. The half smile that formed on his lips had your heart racing in your chest.

“Of course I am,” you told him, not even trying to stop your tears. Your mind spun with what you needed to do. “How are you feeling? I should go get Dyson and have him call doc. Yeah, I—”

“In a minute,” he told you. His hand carefully capturing yours, stopping you before you could flee to do just that. “You told me you loved me before you left that day. Was that real? Or was that in case you didn’t see me again?”

Steve had to be able to hear your heart. It felt like it would pound out of your chest. “It was real.”

He kept looking at you like you were a ghost, an image in his mind. “I’ve never… I’ve never seen you dance before. You look beautiful.”

“You’re always busy,” you said with a smile, melting under that comment.

“Will you dance for me one day?” The softness of his voice when he asked that question had your heart squeezing in your chest. The sincerity threatened to break you.

All you could do was nod.

Tugging your hand, he urged you closer. His hands at your hips guided you to sit on his lap and you were careful.

“We need to talk,” Steve said. “Just you and me for a moment.”

Oh, shit. Here we go.

You shook your head. “What’s more important than your health?”

“I need to know what’s happening,” Steve said slowly. That look he gave you. How long had he been up? Had he already talked to Dyson?

“Not a lot.” A huge lie. “We’ve all just been watching over you. Hoping you’d come back to us.”

“What’s happening?” he asked again. “What happened while I was out?”

You swallowed hard. Somehow Steve knew.

More tears. “Steve, what am I supposed to do? You just woke up and—”

“And?”

“When I tell you what happened, you’re not going to be happy.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “I’m sure.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you quietly started talking. You started with the aftermath of the shootout at Hansen’s house after the two of you had been shot. You told him Hansen was presumed dead but there was no proof.

Steve shook his head, telling you, “Hansen’s not dead.”

You told him Dyson had been roughed up but not badly harmed. Several of Barnes’ men had died. Clint had killed Banner and Hansen shot Neal in the face. You told him about the young woman who’d been taken from the donut shop on Steve’s turf and how she’d been found in Hansen’s house, kept as a sex slave. Steve had looked disgusted at that.

“What’s happened since that day?” Steve asked after a moment.

“Have you already talked to Dyson?” you asked nervously.

“No, but I heard you and Belova talk,” he admitted.

Shock would have had you jumping off his lap if he hadn’t kept you there. “What? You heard us?”

“I did,” Steve told you. “Not enough to know what’s going on. Enough to know you put yourself in danger with Barnes. Want to tell me about that?”

No.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Dyson exclaimed out of nowhere. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I needed to get up,” Steve told him with a smile.

Dyson was as careful as you had been in hugging him. The happiness in the older man’s eyes was unmistakable as his gaze moved over him, assessing him.

“We need to get doc here to look at you,” Dyson told them.

“I need to talk to my wife first,” Steve countered, his grip on your firm.

“Yes, you do,” Dyson told him. “But after doc has looked at you. Then we’ll all talk because I think that would be best. There’s a lot you need to know.”

Words couldn’t express how much you loved Dyson at that moment.

Taking your hand and helping you stand, Dyson smiled. “Go call doc,” he bid you.

Nodding, relieved to get the doctor here and to have help in telling Steve that story, you pressed a kiss to your husband’s cheek and scrambled off to do that.

***

Steve watched you flee like you’d escaped the gallows. He let the tears come then. Pure relief ran through his veins. His wife was alive and recovering, crying over him.

Maybe she really does love me.

He hadn’t gotten to watch you dance long before you spotted him, and he regretted that. He could have watched that all day. He recognized the music from The Nutcracker Suite, but he couldn’t say which scene it was from.

But there his wife had been, all in black aside from the light pink shoes she wore. You might have been a shadow dancing, but your movements didn’t echo loneliness or sadness. Your movements were graceful but confident. It had been a stark reminder of so many years you’d been alone. It occurred to him now what you must have done with all that time your father left you in the care of servants.

You had a lot of time to listen and learn.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Dyson told him, helping him up out of the chair.

To Steve’s dismay, he was weak as a kitten. He allowed Dyson to help him to his feet and walked with him towards his room. He had no intention of getting back in bed, however.

“No, I’m getting dressed,” Steve told him. “I want to have that talk and hear what had happened while I was… out. Soon as possible.”

Everything.

Once he was seated on the side of his bed, watching Dyson gathering a casual outfit for him, his mind took over.

“Why was she anywhere near Bucky Barnes?” Steve wanted to know.

Dyson paused for a beat but went about his tasks, not making eye contact.

“I didn’t like that part either, boss,” Dyson said. “But when we lay it out for you, maybe it will make more sense.”

“You were in on these plans?” Steve asked.

Dyson approached him now with his clothes, his gaze unwavering. “I was.”

“Where does our family stand right now?”

Dyson placed the clothes on the bed and regarded him calmly. “Your family is the head family, and you are its leader. None of that changed while you were out.”

Steve could only imagine what had to happen for Dyson to say that so confidently. “Why was my wife involved?”

Dyson still didn’t react. “Because like it or not, your wife is part of this family, son.”

Dyson hadn’t son’d him in many years.

“What did I say—”

“No, you’ll listen to me now,” Dyson cut him off. “After the situation Hansen put us in, we didn’t have a choice but to react as the lead family and you weren’t available to make decisions, so the task fell to us. Turns out the plan was Barnes’s. Taking me, taking your wife, all of it. Hansen just decided that he was going to take Mrs. Rogers for himself hence the betrayal.”

“I know,” Steve said. He remembered all that.

“And there were all these stories out on the street, see? Some of them were very close to the truth,” Dyson explained. “If you hadn’t fallen into a coma from blood loss, you’d have been calling those shots. Since you were unavailable…”

“You did it?” Steve accused. “And you involved my wife?”

Color darkened Dyson’s face in a rare display of frustration. “No, your wife stepped up. And you need to start paying attention because your marriage, your wife, has been the problem here ever since you took power.”

“You’re blaming my wife?” Steve couldn’t have heard that right.

“No, I’m blaming you.” Dyson was direct. “You married her, you took the crown. You should have flourished. You had everything you needed to rule. Everything you wanted. Her, her father’s backing, your family’s strength. Why do you think it didn’t work out, huh?”

“I wasn’t counting on Barnes to have such a problem with all of this. I knew—”

“No,” Dyson cut him off again. “Forget Barnes. This is all on you.”

“How do you figure?” Steve realized Dyson was pissed at him.

“If you hadn’t been so obsessed with your wife, you would have handled things,” Dyson explained. “You navigated her into this marriage – with her father’s blessing – and that should have been that. You get married to the old boss’s daughter to solidify your claim. She’s a beautiful young woman who will keep you on your toes. But no, that wasn’t good enough…”

“What the fuck are you getting at?” Steve asked. Was it brain fog keeping him from seeing what his mentor was getting at?

“Just what I said,” Dyson told him. “Your obsession with your wife is the fucking problem. It’s your blind spot and it always has been. If you hadn’t been so busy trying to control her, to mold her into what you thought she should be, you wouldn’t have been at odds with each other all these weeks.”

Maybe he had a point.

“If you hadn’t been at odds with your wife and fixated on that, you wouldn’t have come so close to losing that leadership position you wanted so badly. You wouldn’t have come so close to losing it all.”

Dyson got closer. Got in his face.

“You were also too blind or too stupid to realize that your wife has the instincts she does,” Dyson went on, meaning business. “She’s sharp. She reads people well. She’s a lot like her old man.”

Steve nodded. “I’m coming to realize that.”

“Good,” Dyson said. “Because we’re all going to talk about what happened while you were out. And she will be there. She earned her place at the table and you’re going to hear what she has to say.”

Steve nodded his acquiescence. Dyson wasn’t there when Steve brought his wife in to craft the plan to deal with Hansen. He’d been Hansen’s hostage.

No, Steve was very interested in what happened and what part she played in it. But as a husband, he was also slightly terrified of what he might hear. As a man in his position, he needed to figure out how to keep his wife and family out of harm’s way, to protect them.

Steve didn’t have the physical strength, at the moment, to fight any of them.

“Let’s get you in the shower,” Dyson told him, helping him off the bed.

***

“Maybe I should sit this one out,” Yelena muttered as she walked with you to Steve’s study. “I can’t imagine he’s going to be happy I’m still here.”

You stopped, looking her in the eye. “No, you need to be here for this meeting. You’ve been at my side since I married into this situation and I’m not allowing him to send you away again.”

Slowly, she smiled. A flash of hope lit up her hazel eyes. “You’re ready for this, aren’t you?”

You nodded. Indeed, you were. While your husband had been comatose, you did what you thought was best for the family, guided by Steve’s own council. It was still a dangerous time and as far as you were concerned, all of you needed to be involved until Barnes was dealt with and Steve’s position was solidified once and for all.

“I need to know you have my back,” you told her.

“Always,” she said, meaning it.

“Then let’s get in here,” you told her. The two of you were the last to arrive.

You’d cleaned up, dressed in a simple black dress and cardigan set with silver piping. Maybe it was silly, but you’d always worn it when you were heading into the unknown. Your secret trips to New York City with your governess or those rare meetings with your father before you took care of him in his final days. With the stockings and glossy black heels, it felt like armor.

And as you met your husband’s gaze from where he sat behind his desk, you realized you needed armor. His gaze swept over you appreciatively as you sat in the chair directly in front of him and next to Dyson. He looked you over too. He smirked in what you thought was approval.

“I saved you a seat,” Scott smiled at Yelena, motioning to the chair next to him to your left.

Clint and Luca sat with them behind you. The room was unusually quiet. Steve nodded to Clint who got up to close the door to the office.

Steve’s gaze moved over everyone in the room, he took his time. He wore a crimson sweater with jeans. He looks so tired. Finally, his gaze stayed on Dyson.

“My wife told me most of what happened after we were shot,” Steve started. “I need to know what happened after that.”

Dyson looked to you, and you nodded. It was probably better that he start. Steve cocked a brow at the silent communication.

“It was pretty much Tuesday at the Okay fucking Corral,” Dyson told him. “It was all me and Yelena could do to get the two of you out. But Hansen didn’t wait for that. It was a hell of a shootout. Barnes lost several men, we lost some too. Not as many.”

“Your friends make it out?” Steve asked.

Dyson nodded. “And we were damn lucky they happened to be in town.”

You were indeed. You were especially grateful to Jensen.

“You got the two of us out,” Steve said. “Then?”

“Hansen and Clay faced off,” Dyson explained. “Hansen was hurt but he made it out. He ain’t dead. Barnes gets a hold of him, he might wish he were.”

You couldn’t imagine Hansen being afraid of anyone.

“We got everyone back,” Dyson went on. “Got doc over here… You lost a lot of blood and went to sleep on us. We had a lot to think about, boss. You have to realize that Barnes’ plan that night was meant to knock you off the throne. They set a trap for you. Neal and I were supposed to go confront Hansen and take him out. That was our plan. But Neal was working for Barnes.”

Dyson cut his gaze to you. “You never liked, Neal. You weren’t wrong.”

No, you weren’t. The bastard had been nothing but disrespectful to you and Yelena. He’d put you at odds with your own husband by telling him about the nurse’s visit. How happy he must have been when Steve locked you away as a punishment. Thinking about it now, maybe Neal did it on purpose. The fact that you were stuck there might have made it easier for Hansen or Barnes to get to you.

“Barnes plan was to use me to lure you out, boss,” Dyson said. “The plan was to take you off the board for good. Barnes was confident, all things considered, that Hansen could get it done with Neal’s help.”

You shivered thinking about it. Steve trusted Neal. He’d go to protect Dyson. It might have worked.

“Instead, Hansen decided to lure Mrs. Rogers out and he meant to take off with her,” Dyson explained.

“Where is Neal?” A muscle twitched at Steve’s jaw.

“He’s dead,” you said quietly. “Hansen shot him in the face.”

Steve met your gaze, shaking his head.

“And since then?” Steve asked. “What’s happened?”

Dyson glanced at you, at the others. “We had a situation. Barnes hit us hard, and you were in a coma. If anyone realized you were out of commission, we would be dead in the water. A response was expected. And a response was delivered.”

Steve nodded. “I guess you did. Tony called me and he sounded impressed… So, what happened?”

“We sent Barnes presents,” Dyson told him. “Paulina was the warning shot.”

“Paulina?” Steve asked.

That had your heart lurching and old jealousy rearing its ugly head. Paulina was Kat’s sister. Was Steve afraid Kat had been hurt?

“Yeah,” Dyson said. “She’s still around. We just put her in the hospital.”

Steve looked confused but didn’t say anything.

“Kat appreciated Barnes taking care of the bill,” Dyson said. “She brought him a thank you gift. We sent him a gift too in the same bag. He got a five-finger discount.”

That blue-eyed gaze cut to you and back.

“Neal was his eyes and ears in this house for too long,” Dyson went on. “We took those and made a special treat for him. A tiramisu from his favorite restaurant.”

Your stomach clenched just thinking about that. You couldn’t imagine finding human ears and eyes in your dessert.

“And the grand finale was all heart,” Dyson told Steve, turning to grin at Clint on that one.

Steve blew out an exhale and you just waited for the tirade to begin. You could tell his mind was going a mile a minute and you felt bad for him because his color was off, and he looked so tired.

“Belova was there at Hansen’s when I arrived,” Steve began. “I do remember telling her she’s out.” Scrubbing a hand over his beard, he shook his head. “And you all just let my wife be party to all this? Killing people? Eyes, ears, hearts? I don’t even understand why Paulina was involved in this.”

Had your beautiful bastard of a husband learned nothing from all this?

Dyson shot you a warning look, watching you shift in your seat. “We collectively—”

“Yelena,” you started, “is the only reason we’re all still here.”

A quick glance at her showed her staring at you in surprise.

“When you sent her away,” you went on, “which you had no right to do because if I remember correctly, her being my personal protection was your wedding present to me, Dyson knew the danger she’d be in on the street. His friends were in town, thank God they were, and she stayed with them while they were here. She’s the one who got us the intel on Banner. She called Clint and told him where to find him, hiding on Stark’s turf. I explained all of this to you that day. He didn’t say anything about killing Banner at the time because of Nat and how she’d take it. No one gave him the order to kill Banner, but he did. I’d like to think you’d do that if someone beat my ass the way he beat your sister.”

Steve looked alarmed. He was about to say something, but you beat him to the punch.

“If that chain of events hadn’t happened, that day would have been far worse, Steve,” you went on. “If Dyson’s friends hadn’t been here, the day would have been worse. We can’t ever let this family’s safety depend solely on luck ever again. That was too close.”

Shifting on your chair so you could look around the room at your family and dearest friends, you shook your head.

“Paulina?” you asked. “Yeah, maybe that was stooping to their level. Banner beat Nat more than once and all the while he was spying on us. Betraying you. Beating Paulina was Nat’s call. A sound beating with bruises that wouldn’t show. It’s a good first step in taking back her power.”

Clint met your gaze, nodded his approval.

“Who did it?” Steve asked.

“Oh, I knew you’d ask that,” you told him. “Does it make you feel better that it was Yelena who did the deed?”

You could just tell from the subtle shift in his expression that it did.

“We found the girl who worked in the donut shop locked in a room in Hansen’s house. He was keeping her there because she looks like me. You can’t imagine what that poor thing has been through.”

Now Steve really did look startled.

“And the rest?” You said to your husband. “Dyson didn’t want me to be a party to it either, no. And I didn’t order any hits if that’s what you’re worried about. The fingers in Kat’s shopping bag? They belonged to Hansen’s man who kidnapped that girl. He died in the shooting at Hansen’s house. He didn’t need those fingers anymore.”

Steve just stared at you now.

“The eyes and ears?” you went on. “Neal was already dead. Hansen killed him.”

“Who’s idea was that?” Steve managed to ask. “The tiramisu?”

Luca’s hand shot up. “Mine. I made it.”

That had you grinning.

“The heart was Banner’s,” you explained. “He was already dead too.”

The slightest flush of color darkened Steve’s face. “And what about Barnes? You want to tell me why you were anywhere near him? What were you and Belova doing there?”

There was no going back now.

“The house is being watched,” you explained. “Stark and Wilson called every single day. We were worried that someone was going to figure out what was going on here, that you were potentially done for.”

Dyson’s gaze on you was intense, the hurt still flashing in his eyes from that plan because he’d disagreed with it so vehemently.

“We tried to take Barnes out,” you explained watching disbelief bleed into his expression. “After everything he’s done to all of us, he deserves it, Steve.”

You were speaking forcefully while your husband listened with an expression that you were struggling to read.

“Barnes gave us the idea himself,” you went on. “He called the girl from the donut shop. He wanted to meet with her, to see if she knew anything that would help him find Hansen. We arranged the meeting. I went in her place. I wore a mask because some people still wear them from the pandemic, and he didn’t realize I wasn’t her. Not until the end…”

Steve leaned forward in his chair, angry now. “What the fuck did you do?”

“We poisoned him,” you shot back. “The blade was dipped in poison. If I hadn’t chickened out, Yelena wouldn’t have had to step in. The way it went apparently didn’t kill him, but it did some damage. It bought us some time. And now you’re awake.”

“Barnes will know something is up,” Steve countered. “He knows I’d never send you into a dangerous situation like that.”

“He does know. But he can’t prove it,” you said.

“He’s going to come for you,” Steve said, his ire fading.

“I know,” you said. You’d lived in fear of that each day that Steve was still asleep.

“He can’t tell anyone.” Steve huffed a dry laugh. “A mob boss stabbed by a woman?”

Yelena was trying not to grin at that. You couldn’t help but smile.

��I don’t want you to ever put yourself in a position like that ever again,” Steve said to you with uncharacteristic calm. “I want everyone else in this room to swear to me that you’ll never allow that to happen again. Break your word and you’ll pay for it.”

The other men in the room quickly murmured their agreement. Yelena remained silent, staring at her hands in her lap.

“Belova,” Steve said, drawing her attention. “You’re my wife’s chosen security. So that goes double for you. Where her security is concerned, my word is final. Not hers. You got it?”

Yelena cut her gaze to you before nodding and meeting his gaze. “Yes, boss.”

While you were happy Yelena was being allowed to stay, your concern rose. “Steve, you can’t just keep me locked away to keep me safe. Not now.”

Steve stared at you for a long moment and your heart raced while you waited. You could have heard a pin drop in the posh office.

“I won’t,” Steve told all of you. “You’ll be part of my council from this point on. You all worked together to make decisions to protect the family when I couldn’t. Do you all agree?”

The response to that question was much louder and positive. Dyson looked from Steve to you with so much pride.

“It’s done,” Steve said.

Steve had made you part of his council. Your mind was spinning.

“Thank you all,” Steve said, concluding the meeting. “Rest up today. Tomorrow, we start planning. Dyson, keep security elevated around the house for now.”

Dyson winked at you. “Yes, boss.”

Then Steve’s gaze met yours as you were about to stand. “Stay.”

You did. And it was so quiet when it was just the two of you left in his office.

“Like I told you earlier, I agreed to letting you go to Hansen’s that day, but I regretted it almost immediately. That’s why I came after you and all of it was a mistake. By now I’d like to think you realize that as head of the family, head of all the families, why I have to be careful where I go. I’m not a soldier anymore. Sometimes I forget that.”

When he put it that way, yes, you did understand. “But it was Dyson.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But if I’d had my head on straight, they wouldn’t have been able to get to him. That’s on me.”

Had everything that happened rattled Steve that much? Was this accountability?

“And I get why you felt like you should be able to go meet Barnes after that. I’d allowed you into my business, sent you to Hansen’s. That’s on me too.”

What?

“Steve, we’re married. Doesn’t that make it our business?” you asked carefully.

“Maybe so… It’s just… I’ll never be able to get the memory of you jumping in front of Dyson out of my head,” Steve said, eyes shiny with tears. “I’m willing to try this, to make you part of my council. I’m not completely sold on the idea but Dyson and the rest of them respect you enough to follow your orders.”

“You doubted it before because I’m a woman?”

“No, I doubted it because I’m selfish,” Steve said. “And afraid. Dyson’s right, you have good instincts. You knew more about what was going on in my house in a few weeks than I ever have... My father was like that, gave me good advice.”

Tears stung the backs of your eyes as you listened to your husband.

“Your father was a mentor to me too the last year of his life,” Steve went on. “He knew more than my old man. Dyson and Luca seem to think you’re a lot like him. Maybe they’re right.”

“Steve—”

“Let me get this out,” Steve told you. “I’m used to having enemies. I’m not used to having enemies that want my wife as much or more than ending my sorry ass. Twice now you’ve been seriously threatened. How am I going to lead the families when I can’t protect my own fucking wife?”

He was blinking back tears and you dashed around it to get to him, to wrap your arms around him. He again pulled you into his lap, holding onto you like you were a rant in the storm. When he finally got himself under control, that blue-eyed gaze was back on you.

“If you want in on this business, I agree,” Steve told you. “Under the condition that you stay out of the action. Is that in any way unclear?”

At least he wasn’t asking you to swear to him. Because that wasn’t something you would swear never to do again. If someone you loved was in danger, of course you’d be in the action. Still, you nodded.

But then you thought of something. “You’re not going to agree to this and take it away from me the moment I get pregnant, are you?”

That pulled the corners of his mouth up. “I will want to. But I doubt I’d have any luck in trying that.”

“You wouldn’t,” you assured him.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Steve said, his arms tightening around you. “We probably shouldn’t be in a hurry to start a family… With all this going on? We’ve got time. If and when we both agree we want to start a family, we’ll revisit it then.”

You’d been braced for a fight. You couldn’t have been more astonished by what you were hearing.

“Are you feeling okay?” you finally had to ask.

That had Steve chuckling. “Yes, I’m fine. Just hoping I recover quickly because those heels make your legs look so fucking sexy.”

Okay, that was something he’d say.

His fingers tracing your leg from ankle to thigh made you shiver. Slowly, his touch skimmed up your body, over one breast and up to your jaw. Slowly, he leaned in to kiss your mouth. A slow seeking kiss that promised so much.

“You will make me a better leader,” he whispered against your lips.

“You already are a good leader, Steve,” you told him. “Maybe it was because all we did was fight all the time. Maybe it’s just that your attention was divided.”

You could have laughed at the sliver of hope creeping into his expression. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you told him before kissing him breathless.

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#His Inheritance #Mafia AU #Mob boss!Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers x you #Bucky Barnes #Yelena Belova #Clint Barton

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