#boss!bucky
Text
tying you to me
Summary: When your boss, Bucky, apologizes for being rude to you once again, things take an unexpected turn.
Pairing: boss!Bucky Barnes x marketing director!female reader
Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, sir kìnk, breasts insecurity, protected séx, bøndage, a little degrading, praising kìnk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n
Word Count: 5.2K
Bucky Barnes masterlist
A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!
Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!
He’s well aware he went too far. He noticed right when he finished talking and took a look at you, but what is said is said. And the last thing he wants is Steve annoying him about the meeting.
“I don’t question the way you deal with employees, do I?” Bucky snaps, tired and really wanting this day to be over.
“What has gotten into you? What bothers you so much about her? I just don’t get it.”
Bucky sighs deeply, rubbing his hand across his face in frustration. “It’s not just one thing,” he mutters, his tone weighed down by a mix of tiredness and anger. “It’s a culmination... She’s fucking impossible.”
“Bucky, I get you’re upset, but taking it out on her isn’t fair. She did an incredible job, but you didn’t even listen to her. What’s really going on here?”
“I feel like she’s not seeing the bigger picture. We disagree constantly, and it’s making things difficult. Maybe I overreacted, but it’s been building up for a while.” Bucky leans in as he speaks, with his shoulders slightly hunched forward. His voice carries an edge that Steve notices immediately. He knows there is something about you that affects Bucky, but he can’t quite put the finger on it. Ever since he hired you, Bucky’s been angry with him too, which has happened only two or three times over twenty years of friendship.
“I can see this is really affecting you, Buck. If there’s something personal or if my decision to bring her on board has caused you any discomfort, talk to me. I just wanna make sure everything’s okay between us.”
He leans back a bit, surprised. “Personal? No, it’s not… it’s not about that,” he stammers, searching for the right words. There’s a subtle shake of his head, almost as if he’s trying to dismiss his own thoughts. He wishes there was a personal connection so badly that it messes with his head…
“Then what is it? I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. I know you hate when things are not under your control, but I made the right call to hire her. And you were really unfair to her, look,” Steve waves around as he speaks, and Bucky turns to look at you through the glass door. You’re still there… working. “She’s not just smart and creative, but also ambitious and hard working. I know how much you value this as well.”
“I didn’t mean to come off unfairly. It’s just…” Bucky sighs, moving to shift his gaze back to Steve. “Our ways clash, and it’s hard to manage it. I value her skills, but finding a middle ground seems impossible sometimes.”
“Look, Buck, I understand it’s tough, but it’s important to listen to her ideas too,” Steve responds, his voice carrying a firm yet empathetic tone. “Today? You didn’t even look over the outlines. Try giving her ideas a chance or just suggest new things without trashing all of her work. You’d be offended too.” He pauses, and Bucky’s focus is back on you. His eyes narrow slightly, studying your determined expression as you delve into whatever you are working on that he dismissed today. And for a few seconds a pang of guilt flickers across Bucky’s expression, which Steve immediately catches. He clears his throat and continues. “I understand it’s not easy to step back and apologize, but it’s not about who’s right or wrong. And, to be honest, you were wrong anyway. It’s about ensuring a healthy workplace.”
“I appreciate your perspective, Steve,” he begins with a calm voice. “But I don’t think it would make a difference.” His gaze briefly flickers towards you before returning to Steve.
“Trust me, it’ll make a difference, not just for her but also for the team. Give it a shot.” Steve smiles, patting him on the chest before standing up. “I’ll leave you to it. It’s so late.”
“Alright, lovebird, off to your nest?” Bucky teases. “Natasha’s waiting for her captain. Better not keep her waiting too long.”
Steve chuckles. “Well, someone’s got to keep the romance alive around here. Good night.”
“Night...”
*
The audacity of this man is unbelievable. After all that shit he pulled on you today, he has the nerve to order your food! He’s the reason why you’re still working at eight pm instead of lying on your couch.
You are so close to crying out of exhaustion and anger, but you won’t give him this satisfaction. And you won’t eat his food.
“Are you seriously gonna starve yourself?”
“I’m not hungry,” you retort, your voice sharper than intended as you give him an annoyed look.
Bucky’s expression softens instantly, a hint of concern flickering across his face. “Come on, you’ve been working the whole day” he insists, trying to reason with you. “You need to eat something. Did you even drink water?”
You shake your head weakly.
“Look, I-”
“If you don’t like Pizza, I can grab you something else.”
You raise your hand, waving around. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine. I’ll eat something when I get home.”
The idea of accepting anything from him like this feels wrong. You don’t want his pity.
“Stubborn as ever,” he sighs, muttering under his breath, and you look up to meet his gaze. For a moment, there’s a silent understanding between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension lingering from earlier.
What did Steve tell him to make him actually try to have a decent conversation?
“Look, sir,” you say through your teeth. “I don’t want your pity. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll manage. I just need to finish this.”
“This isn’t about pity.” His tone is firm. “You’re exhausted, and I’m just trying to help.”
“I said I’m fine. I’ll be done with these.” You lift your papers to emphasize. “And get home.”
“You’re not fine!” he shoots, surprising you. “And you’re too stubborn to see it!”
You’ve never seen him screaming before. Even when he is angry, he’s always the silent type.
“Don’t you dare!” you fire back all of a sudden, unable to hold back. If you’ll get fired, at least you should speak your mind properly. You can’t take more of this. He can’t step on you without consequences. “You are the reason why I am here anyway. Don’t play the concerned hero, just take your food and eat it...” You pause for a second before sarcastically adding. “Sir.”
“This isn’t just about the food, is it?” Bucky’s voice softens slightly despite his impulse to raise his voice again. “It’s about the meeting.” You keep looking him in the eyes, not denying the obvious. Of course it’s about the meeting. “Look, I am sorry, I know I should have handled things differently, but I’m trying to make it right.”
“You think a wannabe apology and food make everything okay?” You ask bitterly, standing up. “You humiliated me, Mr. Barnes. You didn’t even hear me out, you didn’t even listen to my ideas, what the team and I managed to do in the last few months. You disrespected them too! And I don’t get it...” You hate how tall he is. How perfectly his suit is ironed. How nice his hair is. Fuck him! “Ever since Steve hired me, you refused to communicate with me. It’s like you have decided who I am and what I’m worth without even giving me a chance, without acknowledging my efforts and results!”
“That’s not true,” he begins, trying to defend himself even though you both know you are right. “I made a mistake, I admit it, but I want to fix it.”
“A mistake?” You laugh humorlessly. “For months you’ve been treating me like shit, excuse my language.” You shake your head. “Actually I don’t. You should be the one apologizing! You look at me as if I am a scum, as if my presence bothers you. I come to you only when I have to, and you act as if I want to waste your time. Well, I wasted mine for months in this company. With you!”
Bucky snaps, feeling the frustration taking over him. “My decisions are based on what’s best for the company. It’s nothing pers-”
“That’s just a bullshit excuse to maintain the status quo!” you interrupt him, the tension escalating. You don’t care about this job anymore. Whatever will happen, let it happen. “You’re a stuck-up asshole, resistant to change and blind to new perspectives! My perspectives only, to be clear.” You see him clenching his jaw before his left hand covers his jaw. Oh, he’s angry. Good! “And it’s not even out of misogyny since you get along just fine with Shuri. So what is it? What is it, Mr. Barnes, that makes you hate me?”
“It’s not about you,” he insists, his voice strained with the effort to keep calm. “It’s about maintaining stability. It’s about-”
“Bullshit! You’re threatened by anything that challenges your authority! You’re just frustrated and insecure. You’re scared that someone else can do better things in their own way. You’re just a tyrant! I don’t know how Steve is friends with you. He’s such a great man, and you’re a dick.” You laugh. “God, I wanted to tell you this for so long. And if it’s not clear, I fucking quit!”
You’d smile widely if it wasn’t for his snort.
“You’re not quitting,” Bucky’s voice is low, but you still hear it.
He doesn’t believe you, clearly. But he will because you’re not joking or backing off. You can’t take another humiliation session, especially when you did nothing to deserve it. As much as you admire Bucky’s intelligence and company policies, he’s a fucking douchebag. To you.
“Watch me,” you retort instantly. Your heart starts racing as he takes another step toward you. He’s so close that you only need to get on your tiptoes to kiss him.
“No, you’re not quitting. And you’re not walking out that door until we settle this.”
“Settle what, Barnes? Your ego?” You try to maintain your composure, but the closeness makes it hard for you to focus.
He sighs, and your eyes find his lips again. They are pink and wet from his tongue. If only he was less of an asshole and not your boss, maybe you would...
“This isn’t just about me and my authority.”
“Then what is it?” You're confused.
“It’s about you challenging everything I’ve built here,” he admits, looking straight into your eyes.
“And you can’t handle that?” Your voice is filled with sarcasm, but for once he doesn’t focus on that.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Then make it simple, Mr. Barnes.”
“I... I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Deal with this... with you.”
“Deal with me?” You puff. “You’re insufferable, I am the one who has to deal with you and your constant checkups. With your: that’s not good enough, that needs to be changed, do this, do that over and over again.” You mimic his patronizing tone. “You don’t give me real suggestions-”
“I just... struggle with change.”
“And I’m the change you can’t handle?” The question hangs heavy between you, and his eyes drop to your lips this time.
“You challenge me,” he admits, his voice barely above the whisper. “You and your crazy ambition, your undying dedication, and your incredible ideas...” He pauses just to take a deep breath. “I feel like I’m suffocating every time I look at you.”
“Suffocating?” You roll your eyes. “How am I suffocating you? Just because I have an opinion and give you arguments-”
“I am fucking attracted to you, woman!”
You shake your head. He cannot just pull this lie and expect you to fall for it as if you are dumb. “Yeah, sure. Can you be a man for once and fucking take responsibility for your real thoughts and feelings? Just admit that you hate me!”
“Jesus Christ, are you that blind? For a woman so perceptive, you surely don’t see what’s right in front of you.”
You feel the anger take over your whole body. “Fuck you!”
“I wish! This is the whole point, the whole fucking point...”
“You want to fuck me for real?” You gasp, surprised and take a step back so you can look at him properly. He doesn’t seem to be joking.
“Deadly serious. And no matter how many times I tried to push this desire away, it just doesn’t work. You suffocate me. I imagine taking you all over my desk and couch. I imagine so many things, and I cannot focus.”
Before you can stop yourself, you slap him on the face lightly. Your palm is itching and gets red instantly, but you don’t care. As much as the info makes you happy, the context makes you super angry.
“So my team and I had to be humiliated just because you’re mad you want to get laid?”
“W-what? No!”
“No?”
“No. I deserved that,” he says referring to the slap. “But I meant what I said earlier. These are separate things.”
You cover your face with both your hands, not knowing what to say. What can you say? What should you think?
“I am sorry,” he sighs, and you hear him slowly walking away from you. “I should have said nothing. I am sorry. Please, don’t quit. You won’t have to work with me or even see me after this. Steve can take over, and you like him. I apologize not only for this, but also for my lack of… skills. I should have been more open to your ideas. And about tonight, I will wait for the HR email. I am sorry once again.”
Your head is spinning with all the things he’s just said. He wants you, but he’s also a bitch who cannot handle other opinions.
But you also want him. And you’ve wanted him despite how annoying he was. And he’s genuinely apologizing.
“Fuck it,” you whisper before going straight to him, pulling him by his tie toward you to kiss him.
He doesn’t hesitate at all, bringing his hands to your ass so you can feel each other better as he deepens the kiss instantly.
You shamelessly try to thrust your hips up a little as you let go of his tie, and his tongue feels like heaven in your mouth. His moan is low and hot, but you don’t let him breathe more than a second before you kiss him again, making sure to grab his hair and pull with force.
“Fuck me, Barnes. Fuck me right fucking now.”
He groans in your mouth once again, and you shiver.
“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fuck you so well you won’t remember or think about anything else but my cock for days.” You instantly drop your hands so you can reach for his pants. Unbuckling them isn’t hard, but the zipper gets a little stuck, so Bucky has to finish the job for you.
“God, James,” you moan at the sight. “You’re leaking.”
He’s not embarrassed by this at all. On the opposite, he grabs his briefs too and pulls them down, letting them fall along with his pants.
You’re staring, but you can’t help it. His cock is so hard, and it even twitches as he grabs it to show it to you. It’s so thick.
“For you. This is all for you.”
Without waiting for a response, he suddenly grabs your shirt by the front placket and rips it in two. The buttons fly everywhere, one almost hits him in the face, but you don’t care. You’ve never been more turned on in your life. He’s so hot!
“Oh god, James,” you whisper, unclasping your bra before he can destroy it. It’s your best one, and you still need it.
“Yes,” he groans at the sight of your breasts, but you cannot ignore the wave of self-doubt that takes over you. They’re a little bigger than they should be for your height, so the sight is not the prettiest, in your opinion. This has always been an insecurity of yours, and even more after your last boyfriend made sure to emphasize this before you broke up. But Bucky seems fascinated. With his eyes glued to them and his mouth semi-open, he leans in, bringing his hands to both of your breasts before cupping them. You get goosebumps as he folds them eagerly, and you hear him groan when they spill over as soon as he tries to pull them together.
“James!”
But it’s like he can’t hear you, too engrossed in watching your nipples hardening even more, and before you tell him what you wanted to, you feel his wet mouth sucking in one of your nipples.
You’re taken aback, so he uses his gloved hand to make you stop moving by placing it on your waist firmly.
He’s suckling at this point, making low whimpers as he’s looking at you.
You swear you never saw a more beautiful man in your whole life. His blue eyes are hypnotic.
“F-fuck,” you curse, bringing your fingers to his hair. You need to grab something before you fall.
He switches to the other nipple, and you feel yourself throbbing. You need his cock so much. You need his mouth... you need him to make you come. And you want to do the same to him. He’s driving you crazy.
“F-fuck me! RIGHT NOW.” You’re screaming, but he’s not surprised, rather amused as he takes his mouth off your breasts with a pop.
“Easy there, you sound quite desperate,” he giggles as if he’s just made the funniest joke ever. You are desperate.
“Fuck me or I’ll finish myself off, and you won’t be able to touch me as I do. Your choice.”
You know he doesn’t like or do ultimata, but you have no alternative. You crave to be taken on his desk as hard as he can go.
“How can I fuck you if you still have your pants on?” He asks you extremely calmly, and you’re shocked. You expected a more... intense reaction. “Earth to you?” He waves his hand when he sees you zoning out.
“You didn’t take them off.”
“I don’t take your clothes off, love.” He smirks. “I rip them, so if you want them intact, you better do it yourself.”
You nod, enjoying how raspy his voice is, and take them off without looking away from his cock. Not that he could stop staring at your breasts. His eyes are glued to your nipples. Your underwear falls, and only when you step out of the pool of clothes and finally free your legs from the high heels, he brings his hand to your pussy.
“Oh God, look at this… drenched!”
You moan, moving a little into his palm as if you’re trying to ride it. You need him so badly.
“James-”
“I know.” He smiles, spreading your lips more. “I know. So needy, my poor baby needs her cock so she can relax.”
You whimper loudly as you close your eyes. “Take me, sir. Make me your little fuck toy. Take out your frustrations. You can... you can show me how I was wrong for quitting by fucking me until I feel your cock every time I walk. I need to,” you moan again as you keep grinding onto his hand. “Come on! Show me!”
Bucky’s eyes get so grey as he suddenly pulls his hand away, making you whine. You’re about to curse him, but what he does makes you stop. He starts to take off his tie quickly, and you smile.
“Good boy.”
That remark makes his snort, and he cryptically replies:
“Ah, ah, we’ll see about that later.”
“Take off that shirt faster, and your glove, too.”
That surprises him, his eyes immediately widening, so you decide to do it yourself since he’s not fast enough.
He freezes as soon as you pull off his glove, revealing a black with golden accents prosthetic hand.
“This is so fucking pretty, oh my God! Why do you keep this hidden?” You turn his hand around, and you gasp, realizing what you’ve just said. “I am sorry if I seem insensitive, it’s just that...”
Bucky snorts, amused, not hurt, which makes you feel like you can breathe again. The last thing you wanted was to bother him.
“You got a kink for my arm now?”
“You talk too much,” you murmur at the same time you start to unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can. Your hands are trembling.
When he’s finally naked, you let out a whimper, instantly reaching to touch his chest with both of your hands.
“You shave,” you say, surprised.
“Come on, love.” He smiles. “Touch my arm while you still can.”
You don’t question what he means by that, not wanting to worry too much. You expected this to be a one-time thing anyway, so you better enjoy every second of it. The arm is seamlessly integrated into his shoulder, and it's colder than the rest of his skin.
You trace a gold pattern all the way from his shoulder to his hand.
“I have a kink now,” you giggle when you see the sides of his neck getting pink.
“Well, I hope you have this kink, too, because…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he reaches for the tie he had on today and smiles. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
“W-what?”
“Hands behind your back.”
“You want to tie my hands?” You ask, taken aback by his demand.
“Did you try it before? Do you hate it?”
No, you didn’t try, but it doesn’t sound bad, surprisingly.
You usually hate not being in control, but it’s Bucky, and as annoying as he might be as your boss, you trust him. Plus, you quit after all, you should enjoy this as much as possible. The thought of him tying you up is really sexy for some reason, so you simply turn around and bring your hands together above your ass.
He doesn’t hesitate and quickly makes a knot.
“Too tight?”
“No,” you whisper. It’s not tight at all.
“You can tell me to stop any time, okay?” He wraps his hands around your waist and turns you toward him. “I’ll stop immediately.”
You nod, trying to get used to not being able to raise your hands.
“Words, please.”
“Yes, James.”
“Good girl.”
You’d lie if you said it doesn’t turn you on like crazy. You’ve been indirectly fighting with him for so long without getting any kind of approval or praise for your work. He made you angry and stressed more times than you could count, but you still respected him. You wanted his approval and you craved him...
You got yourself off thinking about him, you imagined choking him out of anger, but then it turning into a completely different thing. And it feels surreal this is actually happening, and he finally calls you a good girl.
“Are you clean? Anything-”
“I always used a condom, and I do checkups every six months. I assume the same about you.”
You nod, not bothering to tell him you don’t remember the last time you had sex, all thanks to him and his impossible to please ass.
“Do you have a condom?” You ask, moving closer to him again.
“In the car,” he curses, but before you can tell him that you can try without one since you are on the pill, he speaks again. “Wait!”
You giggle as you watch him run out of the office with his ass wiggling. No way he goes to his car naked, right?
You jump on top of his desk, pushing a few docs on the floor with your knee. It’s quite difficult because your hands are tied, but you don’t mind. You wait excitedly for his return just to tease him, but you’re speechless as soon as you see him unwrapping the condom package with his teeth before he quickly rolls it on.
“Won’t the neighbor mind?”
“What he doesn’t know,” he grabs your legs as he speaks. “Won’t hurt him. You’re not gonna run your mouth now, are you?” There is something about his patronizing tone that makes you hornier. Maybe because you know you’ve been on his mind so much he couldn’t focus on anything else.
“Why? You want to keep my mouth occupied with your cock?”
You don’t expect to be turned around on the table instead, with your ass in the air. Holy fuck!
“How about I keep this pretty wet pussy of yours occupied, hmm?”
You close your eyes when you feel his cock at your entrance before he finally pushes in.
He’s crazy, he must be crazy if he thinks you can take all of his cock like this.
“B-Bucky!” You arch your back without realizing, fighting against the material of his tie so you can get free. The impulse to touch his back is absolutely overwhelming, and the coldness of his left hand drives you crazy.
“What happened?” His other hand goes up until it’s in your hair. “You got nothing else to say? Are you already cock drunk?”
“More!” you whimper. “I can take more of you, please.”
“Ah? So greedy for my cock.”
“Need it deeper, James. Need you to move faster.”
You don’t care how desperate your voice is or if you’re pathetic. “I just wanna be stretched open until I cry. P-please.”
You don’t realize he is holding his breath until you hear him exhaling loudly against your back before kissing the same spot.
“You wanna be fucked like you’re my good little toy, baby? You want-”
He stops speaking when you moan, trying to move your hands so you can touch him and push him deeper inside you by grabbing his ass.
That hot ass…
“Want you, sir. Please, make me a mess.”
And he does. He fucks you harder, making your eyes roll back, and you can’t help but try again to touch him.
“Just like that,” you cry out when your face hits the desk more forcefully than before. You can sense Bucky’s hesitation so you shake your head. “I’m fine, I’m... k-keep going.”
He doesn’t stop, he even goes faster yet somehow deeper than before, a combination you’re not used to, that makes you feel like he’s splitting you in half. Neither of you can properly talk anymore. You can hear him cursing and saying your name along with: your pussy’s drowning me, so wet, think you can t-take it harder, but there is a long break after every word so he can thrust back inside you. You can’t even call him James, your voice is so hoarse, and he’s so deep you cannot even breathe.
You don’t need anything more the second he pulls your hair harder than you’d ever expect. Before you know what’s happening, the pleasure explodes inside you, making you scream. You don’t even realize that’s your voice at first, too focused on trying to prolong this feeling as you push your ass back frustrated you cannot grab his thighs, while he keeps thrusting inside you. His balls hit your clit, and you moan, a little sensitive.
“Sir, please, c-come,” you whisper, turning your head to the side on the desk. “Come for your little fuck toy. U-use me.”
You flinch, shocked, when you feel a light slap on your ass all of a sudden, but it doesn’t hurt at all. Quite the opposite. You don’t have time to say something about it, though, because Bucky’s already burying himself inside you again as deep as he can, and you moan at the same time he does.
“J-James...”
He pulls your hair even harder while he comes, groaning your name and a low fuck, that almost makes you giggle.
“Jesus...” It’s the only warning you get before you feel his chest on your back.
“Barnes, you’re heavy!”
His laugh is adorable, but he’s indeed heavy, plus you also have your hands tied. When he finally moves, you hop off the desk, almost falling since your knees are weak. Now you can feel your thighs aching too. But it was all worth it.
Quickly, Bucky unties you, without saying a word, which only makes you more nervous.
“Thanks,” you whisper as you turn around to face him. Then, you watch him take off the condom and place it on top of one of the papers you knocked over with your knee earlier.
After wiping his hands on his thighs, he grabs your wrists gently, making you almost moan at the feel of his cold hand. You’re not hurt, but they’re quite red, probably from the times you tried to get free.
“Gonna buy some cream.”
You shake your head. “No need, I am sure I have something for this.” You try to sound as casual as you can, not wanting to be clingy in his eyes even after you quit. Even after this. “Can you hand me my underwear and pants, please?”
Bucky freezes for a second, but he still gives them to you. “Are you back to hating me?”
“What?” You ask as you start to get dressed. You don’t have the blouse, but your coat is warm. You won’t freeze.
“Why are you so cold now? Did I hurt you? Did I do anything wrong?” His concerned voice and look surprise you. You know he is nice, but you didn’t expect him to be attentive after.
“No, you didn’t. I assumed this is,” you wave around when you finish zipping up your pants. “Just wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”
He doesn’t laugh.
“I told you, you’ve been on my mind for so long. Why would I... and even if it was just a one-time thing, why would I treat you like trash? Especially since we work together.”
“Worked,” you correct him before he hands you his shirt. You raise your eyebrow surprised.
“I’m not gonna help you get dressed, Barnes. You’re a big boy.”
“Put it on, it’s freezing.”
“I have my coat,” you protest, but he won’t take no for an answer, and you know it.
“On.”
“Fine!”
He helps you with it since your hands are, for some reason, still shaking. “Look, I was gonna invite you over to my place, but if I make you feel uncomfortable, or if you don’t want to see me...”
You can’t help but raise your eyebrows.
“Really?”
“We have some things to discuss, and I have a bath to run for you.”
You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile as he finishes buttoning the shirt. “You want me to sign a contract to fuck you again?”
“Ha, ha. No.” He leans in a bit to kiss your forehead. “We have many things to talk about that don’t involve a contract.”
“Yeah? Like what?” You start to collect the documents from the floor. “The process of writing my resignation letter?”
You hear Bucky puff behind you. “You’re not quitting.”
“No?” You bite your lip as you look at him. “Who’s gonna stop me?”
“Me.”
“Hmm,” you whisper playfully before placing his papers on the desk. “How?”
“Let’s get home and we’ll see about that.”
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Trigger Tease(r)
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Before his morning briefing, your mob boss husband decides to take a pit stop in the sauna with you.
Warnings: 18+. Oral (f!receiving). Gentle fingerfucking. Praise and degradation. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Bucky talking you through it. Bimbofication if you squint.
Notes: @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast - you inspired me 🪽 I just had to crank out a little teaser for the third installment of Wedded Bliss. I hope y’all like it 💓
Full version here
In between breakfast and the start of your husband’s early briefing, you found yourself situated in much the same way you’d been spending a lot of time these days: pinned up against the wall of a wood-paneled sauna, Bucky’s broad shoulders supporting both of your legs as he buried his face deep between your thighs. You sighed.
“Hold still,” Bucky grunted, voice muffled as he tried to keep your slick, squirming body in place above him.
You yelped and seized a fistful of his hair when he wedged his tongue even further inside you, nudging your clit with his nose almost too teasingly and deliberate.
“I can’t…help it,” you bit back, ignoring the brief glare you earned from your husband as soon as you said it, “Your tongue’s just so— s— James!”
This time, Bucky let out a full-throated groan when you yanked on those poor wet locks of his—‘Gonna make me bald by next Christmas if you keep doin’ that, honey’—and he pried his head from your legs just long enough to knock you flat on the sauna bench close by.
The western red cedar seared hot on your skin, already flushed from the exhaustion wrought by Bucky’s tongue; you hardly had the strength to hold yourself up when he pushed you onto your back and crawled over your body.
“How ‘bout my fingers, doll? Can you take a couple’a those for me?” Bucky crooned above you as he stroked your hair, bathed in pure sunlight pouring in from the windows. His voice was a touch more sympathetic now.
After all, this was your third orgasm of the morning. It really wasn’t fair for him to use that biological weapon of mass destruction he liked to call his tongue when he knew how sensitive your clit would get from just one ‘O’. Even his hands might be too much in your current state.
Bucky was busy peppering your skin with kisses, working his way from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, when you whimpered and tried to fight a smile.
“Finger,” you corrected him, “Just one finger, Barnes.”
You would’ve thought you’d just thrown your wedding ring in his face and told him to eat shit. Just one?
“How’s one finger s’posed to stretch you out for my cock, huh? Practically had you screamin’ when I stuck it in last night,” Bucky wasn’t one to hide his amusement, grinning even bigger when you swatted him on the arm.
“Who said anything about your cock?” You tried to keep cool as Bucky’s fingers trailed right back down to the place you felt yourself throbbing, aching for his touch, “You have a meeting in ten minutes.”
“Meeting doesn’t start until I say so, my love,” Bucky reminded you just as his index ghosted over your folds.
In truth, he was willing to play this game any way, and for however long, you wanted it done, so long as he was the one bringing you pleasure. Be that his cock, his finger, or all fucking five on one hand, Bucky just wanted to get you off. It was better sustenance to him than the whole damn meal the two of you had eaten that morning.
Bucky kept it down to one digit and lightly circled your bundle of nerves when he sensed you were ready.
You gripped his forearm and shot a quick look between your legs, still in disbelief as to how he could make you feel this good so soon after you’d cum twice before. You felt his lips drift over to yours and steal a few kisses.
“Always doin’ so good for me,” Bucky praised, moving his finger in circles. When you whined against his mouth, he pressed it even harder, “Such a good girl for daddy.”
“James,” you breathed, clenching your legs together.
“Everything OK?”
“Uh-huh.”
More than OK, in fact. That delectable coil of sweet, euphoric release was already swelling gently in your tummy. Bucky moved his finger even faster.
“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured low in your ear.
Bucky loved seeing you try to articulate your feelings—relatively fresh and new to your world, still—while he was giving you pleasure. Adored the way you winced and whined and arched your back into his touch as a whole blustering hailstorm of sensations crashed over you.
He sank his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you, as if trying to extract the words from between your lips. Your response, in consequence, came somewhat stifled.
“Mm— feels so, oh—” Your voice broke off in a moan when Bucky tightened his circles, “—so good, daddy.”
“Wanna show daddy how good and cum for me?”
Bucky knew by the way you were whimpering under his hand that the tendril in your stomach had almost tripled in size. It wouldn’t take much to tip you over the edge.
“My sweet girl,” he said, rubbing your cunt at the same time he was stroking the back of your head, gently, “Feels so nice down there, doesn’t it?”
You rolled your hips against the bench and nodded. Your breaths were short and ragged, panting helplessly into Bucky’s mouth when he adjusted his hand just a little: pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit, with his index moving down to your entrance. Pushing inside you.
“Another,” you choked, not thinking.
Bucky met your desperate gaze and nodded, knowing this was exactly what you needed to make it over the precipice.
Still, he wouldn’t be Bucky if he didn’t tease just a bit.
“I thought my wife wanted one finger,” he hummed, brow pinching inward.
“No, no.” You could’ve shrieked when he curled the digit, “Want more— Bucky, please, please, I need more.”
Again, your husband appeared to nod in understanding, but his fingers didn’t budge. He worked his thumb a little faster and watched you writhe on the seat beneath him.
“How many, honey? Don’t wanna hurt my baby.” His words were all kindness, it seemed, but his tone laced with shameless condescension—the kind that said, yes, I know you need this, and no, I won’t indulge you just yet. Bucky was the worst when he wanted to prove a point. You could’ve ripped at his clothes and torn them in two if you weren’t both stark naked and shrouded in steam.
You opted to pull at his hair instead.
Bucky winced, but the smirk never left.
“I said how many?” he pressed again.
“Three. Four.” Fuck if you knew.
Your husband raised both eyebrows and hummed, a single finger still plunging in and out of your cunt in quick succession. He teased the tip of another at your entrance and smiled even more when you whined.
“Needy little thing, isn’t she?”
“Bucky—”
“Just wants to fuck daddy’s hand to get herself off, hm?”
Bucky didn’t bother to mask his sweet, degrading tone any longer as he talked down and teased you to no end. It drove him half-insane to see you squirm around, rut your hips, let him say the filthiest fucking words he could conjure up, and just bob your head to whatever he said. His impeccant wife and her insatiable needs—Bucky couldn’t even begin to express how turned on the sheer dichotomy got him. He stared in your eyes, all glossy and soft, and felt his cock stand even more rigid on his belly.
He didn’t give a shit if he’d taunted you enough or not; he just shoved his middle and ring fingers alongside the first and clenched his jaw to start fucking you hard with all three.
Your whole face contorted with pleasure, tinged with the faintest shade of discomfort at the tail end of it. You’d forgotten how big his fingers felt all together.
“Bucky,” you whined, mindlessly clawing at the wrist that was moving back and forth, fast, between your legs, “B-Baby, slow— slow down a little.”
But Bucky was deep in the zone. He knew you wanted it too—sensed that you liked to play it safe when it came to your pleasure and grew a little timid at times it got to feel too much—and he needed to talk you through it.
Rather than turn his head and keep to himself as he got you up to your peak, Bucky pressed his face down to yours and nodded again—this time with a tender sincerity.
“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”
You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Bucky kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his fingers wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,
“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”
“My perfect fucking wife, so good at taking my fingers.”
“Gonna be nice and stretched out for my cock, hm?”
Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Bucky wanted you. Exactly how you needed to be, bucking your hips in time with the cadence of his fingers fucking inside you, and soon, those whimpers were turning to moans as that soft little helix inside you reached its breaking point.
Bucky brushed once or twice more against your sensitive spot, and suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his wrist you feared you might snap it in two, and then getting kissed again, over and over while Bucky drank in your every sound, and the few tears that sprung to your eyes as they always did, like sweet nectar.
You were still moaning, curling your tongue feebly against his own and leaning into him as far as you could, when your husband slipped three fingers up between your mouths and pushed them past your parted lips.
“Suck,” Bucky said, gritting his teeth as he watched you, “C’mere, honey, taste your cunt on my fingers.”
You took him in and sucked your arousal off his fingers just like he asked. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his hand, where your juices had no doubt collected too.
That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Bucky could’ve wanted.
He climbed on top of you and took the base of his cock, rock-hard and weeping tears of precum from the tip, almost drunk from the feeling himself. His mouth hung open as he dragged himself over the seam of your cunt.
“I need to fuck you.”
Taglist (STILL HAVE TO UPDATE THIS I'M DUMB AS SHIT): @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx, @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes, @wilsons-striped-ties, @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @fandomsfeminismandme, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic, @dameron-grant-spector, @sushiseoks, @deansapplepie, @mrsjoequinn, @lunaroserites, @first-edition, @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi, @excusememrbarnes, @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl, @diannana, @shawnberry, @yujyujj, @urmomsalex, @mrs-bucky-barnes-73, @athenabarnes, @christinabae, @wintrsoldrluvr, @bethbunnyy, @i-heart-smut @dixsond
#THE TITLE WILL MAKE SENSE LATER I PROMISE#it’s ‘tease’ not ‘teaser’ in the full fic that was just my attempt at humor#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#marvel#mcu#mob bucky barnes#marvel smut#marvel x reader#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#mob boss bucky#mob!bucky
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Try a Little Tenderness
Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader
Word count: 3.7 K
Summary: Steve can’t win you with presents. He’s got to try a little tenderness.
Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Pining, flirting, organized crime, implied ice skating, teasing, former jerky boyfiend, inexperienced reader, nipple play, oral (both receiving) p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, crying during sex, violence (due to mob world).
A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask.
I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.
I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
“Good morning, Steve!”
You were stocking onions, but you looked up and smiled as the tall blond entered the store, setting off the bell. He was well built and handsome and wearing a fine wool coat with a red scarf. It was a cool December, but New York had not yet had its first big snowfall.
“Mornin’, Ambrosia,” came his gruff response.
You kind of liked his early morning voice. And the nickname. The first time he came in, he’d picked up an apple, already biting into it but also already paying. He handed you a twenty and said, “Mmmmm, Name?”, pointing to you with the apple. Flustered, you replied with the name of the apple instead of your name and the rest was history.
This morning, Steve smiled at you and his blue eyes were sparkling. They always sparkled when he looked at you. He seemed very sweet.
“The usual.”
You laughed and went behind the counter to wash your hands.
“Of course, already had the fixin’s set up for you.”
You started the water for the espresso and got out the fresh everything bagels you’d put aside for him. Steve was one of your best customers, coming in every morning, and several evenings. He’d been coming in for about four months now.
Steve settled at the counter and watched you prepare his food. He looked at his watch: 7:42 am. He knew you'd been at work almost two hours now and that you were working very hard. One of your braids had come undone from your bun, and he wanted to put it back, but he didn’t touch you. You wore no makeup, yet your skin always glowed, and when you looked up at him, his heart nearly stopped.
You were naturally beautiful. And your apron did not hide your curves. Or the fact that you were wearing the same pants that you’d worn three days ago. Steve figured that you didn’t have many clothes. He had the urge to take you shopping on Madison Avenue and let you go crazy. But somehow he knew you would never blow a load of cash on clothing. And that’s part of why he was so far gone on you.
He watched you battle your espresso machine with bemusement.
“Why haven’t you set up your new machine yet?”
You stopped and put your hands on your hips, looking so cute that Steve restrained himself from jumping over the counter.
“Is that from you?” You shook your head. “I suspected it.”
Steve had unexpectedly given you many gifts, the espresso machine, a cash register. He’d even tried to have a new walk in cooler installed. You refused and sent back everything he’d sent. It wasn’t right. He barely knew you.
You wondered what he did for a living, always dressed in the finest and able to afford multiple thousand dollar gifts. You figured that he was one of those Angel investors. Well, he wasn’t very good at being anonymous.
You watched as Steve gave you a lopsided grin, then leaned over the counter toward him.
“Listen. Steve. Mr. Rogers.”
You looked from his eyes, to his perfect lips, to his golden St. Christopher’s medal. He smelled so damn good. You bit your lip and Steve smiled, warmed by your proximity. This was his chance.
“Yeah, Ambrosia?”
“I’m not taking your gifts.”
You straightened up abruptly, handed him his drinks and finished his order. You gave him two folded newspapers.
“One Daily News for your friend and one News Day for you.”
“Have you thought about it yet?”
You raised your eyebrow at him.
“About what?”
You thought he was finally going to ask you on a date. You knew the main reason he came in was to check you out. But you weren’t about to be bought.
“About the possibility of getting The Times in here? Alright, the Sunday Times at least.”
“Sorry Steve, it doesn’t sell. If it doesn’t sell, I don’t order. Can’t afford a non starter. But I do subscribe to the Sunday Times myself for the crossword. You can borrow mine any time.”
You winked at him. Something about Steve brought out your inner flirt.
Steve wanted to say something about sharing the Sunday Times in bed, but he thought better of it. Any other girl, and he would have been able to spit all kinds of game. But with you, he was tongue tied.
Steve sipped his coffee and shook his head as you gave him his bag.
“You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”
You waved at him as he stood up.
“Have a great day!”
Steve chuckled at your dismissal as he walked out of the door. Bucky was waiting by the car. Steve handed him his cup and sandwich.
“Send Sam to pick up the espresso machine.”
“Still a tough nut, eh?”
“Yeah. She’s still refusing gifts…”
Steve got in the passenger seat while Bucky sat behind the wheel.
“Instead of giving her all of this expensive shit, why don’t you just be nice to her?Ask her out ice skating or something.”
Steve scoffed. He didn’t know how to ask a girl out anymore. He felt like that scrawny kid running around with Bucky back in the day. Now, women were always clawing at each other to get to him. And they always wanted something.
Steve didn’t respond to Bucky, just asked about his calendar.
“What’s on the agenda for today, Buck?”
“We gotta meet with the truckers today. They don’t want to bend to our terms.” Steve put on his sunglasses.
“We know what to do to make ‘em bend, don't we Buck?”
“Sure do, buddy.”
You were in your walk up apartment above the store halfway listening to the 10 o’clock news. They were doing a story about an explosion at the Eatern Tri-State Trucking hub in Bay Ridge as you put your body oil on after your shower. The reporter indicated that authorities thought that the Valkyrie crime organization was behind it. You were zoning out looking forward to the next day.
You were glad that Janie and Nate would be back at work tomorrow. Nate had just taken a week off, and Janie had recovered from the flu. You were going to take the next afternoon off. You could have taken the entire day, but you wanted to open up for some reason.
Running an organic bodega in Brooklyn was a tough job, but the business was growing, but it was even tougher when your help was not there. You deserved a bit of a break.
The next morning, you were humming an Otis Redding song when Steve came in. You looked over your shoulder and caught him looking at your ass.
“Good morning, Mr. Rogers.”
“Mornin’ Ambrosia.”
“The usual?”
Steve wanted to say no, I want to ask you to marry me, but that might be a little too forward.
“Yeah.”
He sat down at the counter and noticed that you had on something brand new. When you turned around, he gestured to your outfit.
“What’s the occasion?”
You looked down and then grinned.
“This outfit is my Christmas present to myself. I’m taking the afternoon off and I’m going into the city to go to the Central Public Library.”
Steve tried to respect your glee. But he had to do it.
“How thrilling.”
“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch, “ you quipped.
Steve laughed at you. He thought about what Bucky said the day before.
“Grinch hunh. Well, would a Grinch offer to take you ice skating instead?”
You turned around and leaned on the counter. Steve leaned toward you.
“I don’t know. Are you offering, Mr. Grinch?”
You loved teasing him. Steve groaned.
“C’mon. I’m trying here. Ambrosia. Do you want to go ice skating with me in the city this afternoon? And to dinner afterward.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
Steve was very close to you now, staring at your lips.
“Yes.”
You stood up and put your hands on your hips.
“It’s about time. Sure!”
Steve laughed at how easy it was. You shoved his order into his hands.
“Pick me up at 1.”
Steve was grinning like an idiot out at the car, and didn't know how he got there.
“So you finally asked her out, hunh?”
Steve snapped out of it as he got in the passenger seat.
“Move the talks up to 10. I’m taking the afternoon off.”
“Rumlow is stalling. I can handle it this evening.”
“You sure?”
Bucky looked at his best friend.
“Sure as shootin’.”
You and Steve had a great afternoon, and Steve thought that ice skating was genius. He had to thank Bucky. You had to hold hands to stay steady, and when he pulled you in close, you didn’t pull back so you could stay warm. He didn’t know that you were thinking the same things.
Steve got to treat you to Via Carota and you two walked right in. The food was great, the wine was amazing, and you even stole a kiss in your corner booth. The night was perfect.
He drove you back to your place and you sat in the car for a minute. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and you were the one to make the first move with the kiss. You looked at him quizzicaly.
“Can I ask you something, Steve?”
“Yes, Ambrosia, anything.”
“After today, this afternoon and tonight. Do you still like me?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course. Why do you ask?”
You looked down.
“Well, you’ve been such a gentleman. I see how you look at me, all hungry all the time. And the gifts. I don’t know. I just thought you’d be. You know. More…”
“Aggressive?” Steve responded.
“Well. yeah. I just thought.”
You looked back up and saw that Steve’s eyes had darkened.
“I am not a gentle man in my everyday life, Ambrosia. And I know that I can come on strong. But you make me want to be tender with you. I want to cherish you.”
“Oh.”
And Steve pulled you in for a sweet, but sexy kiss.
“So, yes, I still like you. And I have very aggressive thoughts about you. Want to ruin you in fact. But I want to do it carefully. Make you feel it. And make you glad you did.”
“Oh. No one has ever…damn, Steve.”
He recognized that you had been hurt.
“Here’s an aggressive question. What kind of an asshole would make you feel that way about yourself? His name is all I need.”
You laughed.
“Do you want to come up for the answer?” You cocked your head at him as he chuckled and nodded.
“Yes.”
When you got up to your place, you were settled with a glass of wine on your couch.
“I’m not going to give you his name, but I will tell you that we were together for a few months, and we only did it a few times. He’s the only one I’ve ever been with.”
The way you looked as him made Steve’s heart soft, but other things hard.
“It…It didn’t feel good. He said I was frigid and too small. I… I went to the doctor and everything. She said I was fine physically. So I figured it must have been in my mind and I haven’t been able to get out of my head after that. He broke it off and then I just decided to focus on work.”
You peered at Steve to see his reaction.
Steve’s eyes flashed with anger, then cooled.
“That joker is a fucking idiot.”
His eyes traced your body.
“He didn’t know what to do with all this?”
Steve reached for you and kissed you, this time with undeniable passion. You broke away and stood up, offering him your hand.
“Show me, Steve.”
He stood up and followed you to your bedroom.
You stood at the foot of the bed and reached up to kiss Steve, and he picked you up and sat down, sitting you down with both of your legs over his. You made out like this, Steve’s hands still in neutral places until you whined and scooted closer to him.
Then, he went under your sweater, finding your nipple in your bra and brushing it with his thumb. He was exhibiting intense will power, but he couldn’t hold it all back as you responded to his passionate kisses.
Steve lifted your sweater off and your tank top, which was underneath, with it. Your bra contained your breasts, but your nipples were erect and straining against the material. He brought your body towards his for a kiss, his thick fingers pressing and playing with your sensitive buttons. He had you squirming on his lap as he reached around and expertly unfastened your bra.
He looked down at you and then back up, eyes hungry. You’d been yearning for that look.
“I’m gonna cherish this moment, get you ready for me, Baby. You’re gonna feel so good.”
He was weighing and kneading your breast and tenderly flicking your nipple, then he leaned down and kissed you, moving down your neck and collarbone, descending your chest and kissing all around your areolas, teasing your stiff nipples.
He had you moaning and writhing, wanting some friction for your cunt.
“Patience, Baby. You’re gonna get everything you deserve. Including this.”
Steve moved your hand to the hard member in his pants, which you tried to grip in vain through his slacks. You whimpered in frustration.
“I know. I know. I want to do so many things with you.”
Steve’s fingers were in your leggings, through our panties and tracing your wet pussy lips gently as he finally started sucking your nipples. You pulled his hair wantonly as he teased you.
“Mmmmm. Who’s got you all wet, Ambrosia?” he asked, as he pulled his fingers out and put them in his mouth.
“Y-you, Steve… unhhhhh.”
The sight of him relishing your taste made you even wetter. And he found out, because his hand was right back down your pants.
His lips were at your ear and he was breathing hard.
“Can I…”
His thick finger parted your lips and the rough pads of two fingers slid over your clit into your wetness. You arched your back in anticipation.
“...Can I eat you out, my sweet Ambrosia?”
His voice and the request sent you on a tailspin. You nodded vigorously as Steve pulled his hand out to your whine of desperation at the loss of contact.
You quickly stood up as Steve captured your hips to stand still in front of him. His eyes raked up and down your form as he took hold of the waistband of your pants, and slowly pulled them and your panties down your legs. You stepped out of them and Steve’s hands ran back up your form as you looked down at him. He grabbed the backs of your thighs as he pulled you near him.
Steve put one knee over his shoulder and stared at your most intimate part.
“She’s a sweet little flower. So pretty and tight.”
His fingers were parting your folds so he could see even more.
“But she will be ready for my thick cock, I know she will, Ambrosia.”
He pulled you forward and held you up as he licked through you, almost causing a near stroke as far as you could tell.
“Mmmmmm,” Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head. “You are so sweet. I could eat you all night.”
You almost cried as he dove back in, grabbing his hair for purchase. He grabbed your bottom and stood to place you on the bed. He kneeled on the floor and held you down and open with his huge hands.
Steve started his feast, gently licking at first, then made you build to a crescendo as he started tongue fucking you. He made sure to stimulate your nipples, and when he felt your hard little nub vibrate, he sucked your clit hard as you came.
“Was that good?”
“Oh my stars, that was good.”
You both laughed.
“You’re so fucking cute, Ambrosia, but there’s levels to this.”
You sat up and watched as he took off his shirt. You were sure that your eyes were sparkling now.
“It’s just going to get better and better.”
He was just clad in his black boxer briefs, a huge bulge leading the charge. He reached in and you were certain that he was going to pull out an entire pack of socks, but instead, he showed you the largest, thickest dick you’d ever seen. Your eyes were like saucers. You were a little afraid, but your legs fell open out of reflex.
“See what you do to me?”
You bit your lip and nodded, reaching out and touching it tentatively.
“I’ve never seen one that big.”
You looked up at him and his heart melted simultaneously as his cock jumped. Your trembling fingers around him made him almost bathe your hand in his spend.
“Oh, Baby.. So sweet.”
“You are too, Steve. I want to taste you.”
You looked up at him through your lashes and Steve groaned, trembling with the effort to hold back.
“Christ… I’m…I…. Whatever you want, Baby.”
You stared at his cock for what seemed like forever. Then, you tentatively reached out and kitten licked his tip, causing him to groan as he palmed the back of your head.
“You’re killing me here, Ambrosia.”
“Hmmm.” You smiled. “Lay down for me, Steve.”
He did as he was told and put his arm behind his head to watch you. The way his muscles bulged inspired you anew. He reached down and roamed his fingers over your body as you hovered over him. You stroked him a couple of times and then played with his balls, Steve putty in your hands.
“B-babyyyy.”
You smiled in triumph that you had him whining as you spread your lips over the thick mushroom cap and sucked it into your mouth vigorously, causing him to moan and buck his hips up. You took the cue and drew him into your mouth, making him hit the back of your throat and gag.
“Holyyyyyy sssssshit. Stop. StopStopStopStop.”
Steve pulled you off his dick, which made you release him with a plop. He sat up and stared at you, disbelief in his eyes.
“Did I do it wrong?”
“Did you do it wrong. Fuck, you almost made me…. C’mere.”
You giggled as you ended up with your back on the bed again, Steve eating you out, this time one finger inside you as you came. You were in shambles as he looked up at you and inserted another finger inside as his opposite thumb stroked your still-quivering clit.
“Gotta get you up to three. Hold on.”
You did, and when he crooked his fingers this time, you let out a wail that caused dogs to bark down the street.
After your fourth orgasm, Steve looked up, smiling ear to ear.
“Still want this dick?”
You scowled at him.
“If you don’t…”
He laughed as he kneeled between your legs, stroking the magnificent beast. You opened your legs even wider and stared down at it.
“No. look at me, look at me. You’re ready. I got you Baby.”
Steve supported himself with one arm as he got nearer to you and started swiping his head between your folds. You keened as he entered you.
“Ow. Steveeeee.”
Your face looked so adorable as you struggled to take him.
“Holy shit, you’re, fuck you’re so….”
Steve kissed you through your moan of shock and pleasure as he slid all the way home. You gripped his bicep, your fingernails leaving marks. Steve pecked your lips as you pounded together, waiting for you to get used to him.
“You ok? You good?”
Steve checked to make sure you were okay. You nodded at him with tears in your eyes.
“I- I- think it feels good. You’re so big, Steveee. But.. but I like it….”
You started moving, a little at first, and then more wantonly. Steve looked down to where you were impaled upon his dick.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You are perfect. Just so.. Fucking… tiny…. But made for me…Shit.”
You felt Steve’s cock jumping inside you when he said those words, and you clasped your hands behind his back and uttered, “More!”
And that’s when you began to get fucked. Tenderly yet filthily. It was the best Steve had ever had, trying to be gentle and knowing that he wanted to put the bed under the ground. It was such a turn on. The ragged moans that you gave him with each stroke was a gift from god, and he started cumming before he could think.
“Shit! I didn’t use a condom…Fuck. But why does that just motivate me to keep going?”
Steve laughed into your ear as he kept stroking for dear life. He was usually so careful, knowing that most women wanted his kid. But with you he didn’t care. You wrapped your legs around him, taking the pounding he was giving you now.
“Hmmmmmm. You want me to put a baby inside you? Pump you so full of cum that you get all round and full with my seed?”
“Hnnnnghhh. Steve… I…”
“Tell me. Do you want it? You want me to get you pregnant?”
“Ohhhh shitttttttt! Steeeveeeeee!”
You detonated around him and Steve cursed, finally pulling out and jacking hard onto your stomach as three fingers on the other hand continued to fuck you through your orgasm. His pearly spend looked beautiful on your skin.
“So gorgeous. There’s time for that yet, but we gotta get you to a doctor, because I don’t want to do this too many more times. And fucking you with condoms is no longer an option.”
You were fucked out, absentmindedly playing in his cum, causing him to spurt one last rope onto your fingers. When you brought them to your mouth was when he shivered. He collapsed beside you.
“I can’t even explain how good that was.”
You just smiled at him, lips shiny with gloss that he made.
“You are an angel. A Christmas angel.”
Steve sighed as you smiled at him. He got up and went to your bathroom to clean up and get a warm towel.
“I’m hungry.”
“Anything you want, Babe. I’ll get it for you.”
You grabbed the remote and turned on the tv, catching the tail end of the news.
“Shootout in DUMBO tonight between the Rumlow and Valkyrie crime organizations. Several high-ranking officers dead or injured, including Brock Rumlow and James Bucky Barnes. More news when we have it.”
“Steve? Bucky? What’s going on? Valkyrie?”
Steve was up and grabbing for his clothes, an inscrutable look on his face.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I gotta go.”
He gave you a quick kiss.
“Don’t leave. Sam will come back with some food for you and he will stay with you. Don’t open the store tomorrow.”
“But Steve!”
“No buts! I will call.”
And then Steve disappeared into the night, leaving you with so many questions.
Knock that reblog button off the block fa me. 😉
Read part two, All I Want.
#dj’salliwant4kchristmas22#Steve Rogers#mob boss steve rogers#mob boss!steve#chris evans#chris evans imagine#steve rogers smut#Steve Rogers x reader#steve rogers x black reader#chris evans smut#bucky barnes
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request: single mom reader decides to loan shark from natasha’s mob. when reader can’t pay back the loan, natasha’s men capture and beat her. natasha sees reader among the criminals and drug dealers who also haven’t payed back their loans, and excuses her, forgiving her debt.
Title: The Oversight
Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff
Wordcount: 2799
Warnings: Drug use, kidnapping, guns, choking, threats, blood, horrible grammar.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven
[a/n: Yeah, I kind of feel like this needs a part two. Let me know what you guys think and if you're interested]
Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests
Each breath you drew in spurred a sharp stitch in your side. They came in rapid succession, even as you struggled to recall the fuzzy details that usually calmed you down. Your first street name. What you called your first pet. The name of your second-grade teacher. They all swirled foggily, unable to recall.
Your mouth tasted metallic cotton and your heartbeat was pulsing through your entire body. Counting the thrums hadn’t helped either, you gave up as you rolled your neck in a snow circle. The dried blood that hardened against the side of your face, your cheek, and down the expanse of your collarbone crackled at the soft movement.
The room that housed you was pitch black. It was hard to tell when you opened your eyes, tears welling up and dripping down your face onto your uniform. Your arms were bound behind your back, shoulders screaming in protest and fingers going numb from the cold. Your small noises echoed. Wherever you were was impossibly vast.
The next breath that escaped you was deeper than the rest. Not necessarily calm, but enough for you to take stock of the situation; there were flashes of you leaving the diner where you worked nothing short of twelves. It had just rained, and the air was humid. You dropped your keys and bent down to pick them up.
Before you could insert them into the lock, something hard had come down on your temple. There was a rush of heat sloshing down your face and a moment later, as you looked up at the sky, the steel tip of a boot took the rest of your consciousness.
That didn’t bother you. You were fine, a little banged up, but fine. Your daughter was left with the sitter. It could have been hours, maybe even a day. Your stomach clenched in hunger, and you drifted in and out of lucidity. They’d left you un-gagged but you didn’t have it in you to scream. You had a sinking feeling that no one would hear you anyway.
You’d flinched when the first 500-volt lamp let out a sharp hiss before flipping on. You shrunk into yourself, blinking away the sudden burst of white light that filled the room. It was directed towards you, and the rest of the space was still a frustratingly thick darkness. You couldn’t see who had turned them on, but they could see you.
The boots that walked across the floor were loud. They echoed like your earlier sobs. A metal chair was being dragged, and the sound was piercing. It did nothing to aide your aching head. You were thankful to see something other than pitch black, however big the danger.
You recognized the man who was in front of you. His outline flickered solidly. He looked rougher than you did; dirty-blonde hair, and stubble. There was a bandage across the center of his nose, on his fingertips, as if he’d fisted the razor while shaving. His purple T-shirt was covered by a dusty-brown leather jacket. His stare was hard, emotionless.
“You’re awfully quiet for a hostage.” He said, straddling the chair he had dragged over. His chest rested against the metal backing. “You can scream if you want. Wear yourself down. It’ll make this a lot easier.”
“What is this?” You asked instead of taking him up on his offer.
He was familiar to you. Clint. He came into the diner every Wednesday and Friday night like clockwork. He’d order a roast beef on rye with Swiss cheese and extra dressing on the side. He’d suck down two beers with his meal and tipped generously.
Sometimes he was with the man they called ‘The Winter Soldier’. You’d always found the name laughable, but the rumors about him were enough for you to hold your tongue. He never ate but would sometimes order a diet coke and sip it while Clint spoke through large bites of food.
Law enforcement wouldn’t’ touch Bucky Barnes, and your boss would typically comp whatever he ordered. A few months ago, you had shared your first words with him behind the diner. The air stunk of rotted food and hardly counted as fresh air. However, it was a few degrees cooler than the kitchen.
He had offered you a cigarette, one already perched between his lips, a zippo lighter at the ready in his other hand. You declined with the shake of your head, and a quiet ‘no thank you’. There was an uncomfortable silence, but it was better than the damp warmth of the kitchen. A sweet, burning scent filled your nose when he lit his cigarette and let the smoke curl around the two of you like a slack rope.
“You work hard in there.” Bucky said, taking a long inhale. He held it within his lungs, voice pinched. “Harder than anyone else I’ve seen in a while.”
You weren’t about to tell him about your daughter, not with his reputation, or the small smattering of pink scars across his chiseled features. So, you nodded instead. The number of tips you got in the broken down, greasy diner was the difference between two meals and one. So, you smiled sweetly and laid on the southern accent even though you’d only spent a short stint in Georgia when you were eighteen. It was easy to perfect.
“I bet you could name my order right now.”
“You don’t order.”
“I don’t trust the food.” He shrugged listlessly, a lazy smile against his lips. You couldn’t help but smile back.
“That’s a good call.”
He laughed at your honesty, and it was a nice sound. He disarmed you and that was worrying. Bucky let the cigarette sizzle out in a puddle at his feet. He used the tip of his steel-toed boot to grind the paper into damp ash.
“You wouldn’t’ have to work so hard if you had some extra cash, would you?”
The question caught you off guard and you couldn’t stifle the vicious glare that you gave him. Your break was almost over, and you could have, should have, walked back into the restaurant to finish the rest of your shift. Bucky lifted his hands up as a peace offering.
“Look, lady, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. All I’m saying is, you’re not blind to what happens in there, the type of people that frequent this place. You’ve always turned a blind eye and that’s something my boss appreciates. Something she trusts.”
“And who exactly is your boss?”
He tsked “I can’t tell you that, sweetheart. But she wants to make you an offer, she wants to offer you a loan. You’re what? Three months behind on rent? She’ll front that for you and the following two.”
You took a deep breath of stale air. It was a tempting offer, even if it came in the form of a seedy enforcer in an even seedier alleyway. You were three days from getting evicted. Three days from ending up on the streets in a neighborhood that didn’t’ have a single safe one.
“What’s the catch?” You asked.
“Catch? There’s no catch. This is a friendly loan. All you’ve gotta do is pay it back when you’re on your feet again.”
It was an oversight, not asking for a concrete timeline. You hadn’t paid Bucky’s boss back yet, and over the next few months, there were stifled threats, and both Bucky and Clint watched you carefully at the job that you still worked like nothing had changed. The feeling of being indebted lingered, but this time, it was to an unknown entity instead of a landlord that was ultimately harmless.
Everything needed to be paid back in full. These were thousands you didn’t have. And now, two weeks after the initial threat, you were strapped to a metal chair with blood dripping down the sound of your face, in despite need of a drink of water.
Clint was harmless compared to The Winter Soldier, but his muscles still flexed under his shirt as he pulled his jacket off and let it fall to the dusty floor illuminated in blue light. “I would prefer not to get that dirty. It’s genuine leather, you know?”
You glowered at him as he stood and took a few more steps towards you. He looked relatively harmless each time you’d seen him in the diner. Sometimes he had a girl with him, a slight thing that was just as littered in scars as he was. She would order a plate of bacon that was cooked to a crisp and split it with a golden retriever that laid at their feet.
When his wrapped knuckles made contact with your cheek, your head clocked in the opposite direction. There was a sharp pain in your jaw, a ringing in your ear. He had slammed into the same side of your face as earlier, and you lost vision for a second.
Blood filled your mouth, and you spit the mix of saliva, bile, and blood onto the floor. There was a drain in the center and that worried you more than anything else. Your breathing came fast and hard and you glared at him, teeth stained pink.
“Is that all?” You asked him.
It was stupid, you knew it was stupid. But it bothered you more than anything that you had gotten yourself wrapped up in this. Your father was no stranger to the mob, and you should have seen it from a mile away. The fear he lived with. Until the day he died, he would look over his shoulder and you refused to do the same.
Clint grabbed your face, squeezing hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You’re a tough chick, huh? I think we both know why you’re here. All you have to do is get the money and all of this vanishes.”
“I don’t have the money.” Your words were garbled between his fingers. “You’re sure as fuck not going to get it if you kill me.”
“Kill you?” Clint unhanded you and let out a laugh. “Kill you, she says. No, we’re not going to kill you, she would never get her money that way… your daughter on the other hand.”
You pulled against the ropes, and they dug painfully into you. The chair was liable to break, but it had been bolted to the floor. It was much stronger than the one he’d dragged over. The mix of anger and fear that had rushed over you pulled away any thought of lingering aches and pains. Be damned to the head trauma.
Your teeth were gritted, voice a low hiss “Leave her the fuck out of this.”
“Did I strike a nerve?”
“I swear to you, I will get your money, I just need time. I’m not… You can keep me under surveillance as collateral, take my car, my apartment- just leave her out of this.”
Clint gripped your throat with his calloused hand, your ability to breathe became more difficult, half-moon nails digging into your flesh. It stung fiercely, and you let out a gurgle in response. “Or she could be our collateral. I think she’d make a great enforcer, with the proper education, that is.”
Is that what happened to the girl that ate lunch with Clint at the diner? She didn’t looked like she was there against her will, but there was an immense sadness to her eyes. Clint hadn’t released you yet and your vison was growing fuzzy at the edges.
“Let her go,”
Your chest was burning at this point and when he pulled his hand back you tried desperately to regain your sense of lucidity. You coughed, nearly vomiting as he took a long stride backwards, seemingly put into his place with a simple sentence.
Over the ringing of your ears, you heard the sharp click of heels. They were confident, and your chin dropped to your chest as you panted in succession, spit dripping in strings from your lips. You didn’t have the strength to look up, your head was pounding.
“I think that’s enough,” Her voice was smooth, just the smallest bit of an accent in her words. You couldn’t place it, but you couldn’t tell which way was up at this point. “You’re dismissed.”
“Oh, come on Natasha, I was just having a little fun.”
“Dismissed, Clint.”
There was a labored sigh and the sound of his footsteps retreating. It brought little relief to you, however. You felt as if you had traded one evil for another. Eventually, you lifted your head to stare at the ceiling. The stranger hadn’t said anything, and the pitch dark above was more desirable to the unknown.
You heard her sit down and felt her eyes watching you. The swimming in your head started to dissipate so you clocked her with a stare. The woman in front of you was angelic, in such a way that you figured Clint’s choking stunt had actually done you in.
Her stare was an unripe green rimmed in gold, her cheekbones carved from marble. There was a beautiful softness to her expression, and her deep red hair flowed over her shoulders in a waterfall of color. She was studying you, not phased by the cold of the room.
The woman wore a black t-shirt, deep slashes of ink peaking from the dip of the V-neck. You didn’t’ let your eyes linger long. It was a marking that you’d seen on Clints bicep and on Buckey’s hand. You hadn’t gotten a chance to clock it on the girl that was kept in their company.
“Is this the part where you come in with your good cop schtick?” You mumbled.
“Darling, Clint is the good cop.”
“Nice, I like it.” You rolled your shoulders back, fighting the stiffness “Bad cop and worse cop is much more effective.”
“You’ve got quite the mouth on you for someone in your position. Thousands of dollars in debt and seemingly no way to pay back my money. It’s not a good spot to be in, Y/n.”
Natasha stood from the chair, her muscles straining at the action. In a fluid motion, she pulled a black standard issue handgun from the space between her skin and her jeans. She pumped the shaft, the sound echoed more than your quickened breathing.
She used the tip to push your chin up, forcing you to look into her unblinking eyes. You were a dead man, you knew that from her cold stare. You couldn’t look away, even if the option was given.
“Baby, I’ve been in this business for a long time.” Her breath was hot on your collarbone, a mix of mint and tobacco. “I know exactly the type that you are. I cater to your kind. More often than not, my clientele need a little bit of encouragement.”
The tip of her gun traced your jaw, her finger loosely on the trigger. It was cold against your collarbone, down the center of your breasts. She held it there, jaw set in stone.
“We’ll keep you here for a few days. Once you dry out a little, I’m sure you’ll suddenly come into the cash.”
“Dry out? You think I’m on drugs?”
The tip pushed hard enough into your sternum to make you let out a grunt of pain. “You hide it quite well, pet. I’m sure it won’t be as simple when you start to feel those withdraw symptoms. Money flows simple in this town when those cravings kick in.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at her, despite the weapon that she was packing. A frown creased between her eyebrows, but she held it in place. “The hardest thing I’ve ever hit is a blunt in a high school rotation. That was your brilliant plan? Dry me out and then what? Search my backyard for jars filled with money. I don’t have it. I make 2.50 an hour at a diner.”
Natasha scrutinized you, eyes hard. She righted herself and pulled the gun away from your center before flipping on the safety and shoving it back into her jeans. She started to pace the length of the light.
“Bucky, he offered me a loan and I took it so I could pay the rent on an apartment for me and my daughter.” You said, voice quiet “I work thirteen hour shifts six days a week, and it’s still not enough. I’m not… I don’t know who you cater to, but I have a feeling it’s not someone like me.”
“No.” she crossed her arms over her chest, “It seems as if you’re an oversight.”
“Great,” you flexed your numbing fingers, “An oversight you’ll let go?”
Natasha shook her head, clenching and unclenching her jaw. “No, I’m afraid not.”
#Natasha Romanoff#Natasha Romanoff x y/n#Natasha Romanoff x you#Natasha Romanoff x reader#Mafia Boss Natasha Romanoff#Marvel#Marvel Fanfiction#Clint Barton#Kate Bishop#Bucky Barnes#Mafia au#request
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flak-happy: being reckless and beyond caring about one's personal safety / mota 1x04
#mota spoilers#masters of the air#bucky egan#buck cleven#gale cleven#bubbles payne#harry crosby#jack kidd#everett blakely#ronsparky#gif#me when I get too comfy joking w my boss at a work function#these gifs so damn yellow WHY
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The Eye of the Hurricane [15] - Morning After
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, it's a calm one❤️ and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️
Summary: The first day of marriage can be relaxing.
Word Count: 2800
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, stabbing, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
When you woke up next morning, it took you a while to understand where you were because this was not your bedroom or the honeymoon suite you had been staying at for a month but—
Oh.
Barnes weekend residence.
You rubbed at your eyes and turned around in the huge bed to see Bucky sleeping soundly right beside you, still in his clothes from last night. Your heart skipped a beat and you looked down at yourself to see your white afterparty dress, then yawned and pushed yourself off the bed.
Your afterparty dress was pretty, but it was way too uncomfortable to sleep in.
You grabbed your clothes from the bag Becca had prepared for you, then made your way to the bathroom to change into them and walked back into the bedroom again. When you pulled open the curtains to let the sunlight in, the sight of the huge green yard caught your attention and you smiled slightly, leaning sideways to the windowpane.
It was a good thing you were going to get this house in divorce.
“Morning,” the raspy voice reached your ears and you turned around, your heart skipping a beat as your gaze fell on Bucky. He ran a hand over his messy hair as he sat up in the bed and you stared at him for a moment, noticing for the millionth time just how handsome he looked before you frowned, throwing your shoulders back.
“Why are we in the same bed?”
“We’re not,” he said, motioning at you. “You’re standing right there.”
“No I mean last night—”
“I hardly remember anything about last night,” he murmured, rubbing his eyes before his head snapped up. “Wait.”
“What?”
“Did we…?”
You scoffed a laugh. “You wish.”
He managed to shoot you a mischievous grin despite being sleepy, then leaned his back on the bedframe to look at you better.
“Anyway isn’t it a good start?” he asked. “I mean considering we have one bedroom in the penthouse.”
“There are two guest rooms.”
He tilted his head.
“Y/N, I need an office in the apartment and so will you,” he said. “You do realize that?”
Your frown deepened as you tried to wrap your head around the idea. You hadn’t thought about the fact that he would need an office but it made sense, most of the deals were done at bosses’ homes and now that you were going to become an active player in the business, you would need one as well.
Oh, God damn it.
“Are you serious?”
“You chose the apartment,” he reminded you. “Besides I think it’s safer for us to sleep in the same place in case of an attack, especially with everything that’s been going on in town lately.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose and heaved an irritated sigh.
“Great,” you muttered. “I want one of those huge beds then.”
“Done.”
“And if you dare assume—”
“I’m not assuming anything,” he said and he got off the bed, then started unbuttoning his shirt, making your eyes widen.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said. “You didn’t eat yet, did you?”
“Um…” you trailed off, trying to focus. “No?”
“Great, I’m starving,” he said, checking his wristwatch before tossing his shirt aside. “Our chef is a genius, you’ll see.”
…Jesus, this was just simply annoying.
You tried not to stare at his muscular torso but the tattoos on his strong chest made it impossible to look elsewhere. Your eyes darted over the small numbers around the gun before slipping down to his abs, but then snapped up to his face when he cleared his throat, his cocky smile playing on his lips.
“Don’t fucking say it,” you said and he held up his hands.
“You know, if you wanted to consummate our marriage—”
“It’s not the Regency times and that will never happen.”
“Just saying, the offer is on the table whenever you want.”
“I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man on earth,” you pointed out, trying to ignore the fire burning your cheeks. “I’ll—I’ll go and check if the breakfast is ready, don’t be late.”
You walked away from him before he could say anything else, but you could still hear his laughter as you left the room. You shook your head as you made your way to the top of the stairs, then gritted your teeth.
“Keep your head in the game,” you muttered to yourself and went downstairs, your heart still beating fast.
*
This right here was the reason why you liked the Barnes weekend home this much even when you were growing up. It was pretty far away from the city and it was such a huge estate that it made you feel as if you had escaped from all the chaos and tension that came with the city. You and Bucky had decided to go back to the city around the evening so that no one would have any doubts about you not “enjoying” each other’s presence the morning after your wedding since you weren’t going on a honeymoon.
Bucky had given everyone the business excuse, and considering the state the city was in right now with HYDRA you were sure everyone agreed, but it was still a good idea to play it safe.
You thanked the maid who brought you your mimosa before she walked back to the house, then took a sip and leaned back on the sunbed, heaving a sigh. It was such a beautiful day so you decided to enjoy the sunlight with a book you had found in the library while Bucky was swimming in the pool. You stole a look at the pool before dragging your gaze to the green yard, then put your glass back on the small table beside you but before you could go back to your book, your phone vibrated on the table, making you frown.
“Who the…” you trailed off, then raised your brows when you saw the text.
From: Ethan
Hey, just wanted to say congratulations for the wedding.
You pursed your lips, taking a deep breath and your finger hovered over the button before you typed in your reply.
Thank you.
You sent it and saw that he was typing for a couple of seconds before you received another text.
Can we meet when you’re available? I’d like to apologize in person.
You blinked a couple of times, then sat up straighter and sent your text.
Nothing to apologize for, but I’d love to meet sometime this week?
You jolted with a gasp when Bucky’s phone started vibrating and shook your head, then put your phone down to grab his.
“Bucky!” you called out, holding up his phone and he turned in the pool to look at you, then swam towards the edge of the pool to pull himself out. A warmth spread through your stomach as he came closer to you, sunlight falling on his skin as he ran a hand through his wet hair, then grabbed a towel so that he could wipe his face. You swallowed thickly, averting your gaze from his body and put the phone on the table again, pretending to be engrossed in your book.
“Hey man,” Bucky answered the phone and listened to the other line, then let out a chuckle. “Hold on I’m putting you on speaker.”
You looked up from the book at him as he flung himself on the sunbed to your left.
“Hey Y/N!” Sam’s voice reached you and you smiled.
“Hi Sam.”
“Not interrupting anything I hope?”
“Nope,” you said. “What’s up?”
“How badly did you scare Ian?”
You pulled your brows together while Bucky grinned. “What?”
“He wanted a meeting with me and Steve as soon as possible,” he said. “Today, actually. Before you got back to the city.”
“Unbelievable…” Bucky muttered, curling an arm behind his head and you bit back a smile.
“Did you say yes?”
“Are you kidding? I’m still hungover,” he said with a small laugh. “No, meetings can wait until Monday.”
“Even better,” Bucky commented. “Let him panic.”
“Did he sound panicked?”
“Oh he did,” Sam said. “And very obvious too because if it were about business, your father would be the one to call me. Arthur is the one I make deals and have meetings with, not Ian.”
You nibbled on your lip, that familiar jealousy sinking your stomach.
“Well, he’s usually in the room though,” you muttered. “Does my dad know?”
“About the meeting? I doubt it,” Sam said. “Anyways, I just wanted to let you two know. Your cousin is freaking out, Y/N.”
“Serves him right,” you said with a grin. “Thanks Sam.”
“Anytime. Buck, I’ll see you when you get back?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Thanks again. Tell Steve I said hi?"
“Will do,” he said and hung up, and you took your glass into your hand while the maid brought Bucky a drink. Bucky thanked her, then turned to you.
“Him being scared is going to be hilarious to watch.”
You huffed out a small laugh, then sipped your drink.
“He will try to stand in my way though,” you said and Bucky shrugged his shoulders.
“He will,” he said, nodding his head. “And we will run him over.”
That managed to put a smile on your face and you nibbled on your lip, looking down at your drink.
“Having second thoughts?” Bucky asked and you frowned, then shook your head.
“No,” you said. “No, never. I want this, I just—I also know it will make my dad furious when he finds out what I’m trying to do.”
“He can be furious all he wants,” Bucky said. “You’re the right choice here. He’ll see.”
You bit inside your cheek, trying to get rid of the familiar nervousness pulsing through you. You weren’t so used to going directly against your father ever since you were a child, especially on important things, and the family business was as important as it got.
You wished he could just name you the heir. That he could just let you prove yourself instead of pretending he couldn’t see that Ian was not fit to be the next boss, but since he refused to do it, you refused to feel bad about what he forced you to do.
He had promised you the position after all, so many years ago.
You snapped out of your thoughts and turned your head when Bucky’s vibranium hand touched yours.
“Hm?”
“Swim with me,” he said, shooting you an irresistible smirk that made your heart skip a beat, but you pulled yourself together and scoffed.
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on, it’d be fun.”
“I’m sure you’re very familiar with the idea of having fun by yourself,” you snarked, grabbing your book again to turn the page. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Bucky shot you a grin.
“Fine, stay here and pretend you’re not staring then.”
“I don’t even notice your presence,” you shot back as he got up from the sunbed, then walked to jump into the pool again. You stole a look at him, then clicked your tongue.
“Much,” you added quietly to yourself. “I don’t notice your presence much.”
*
By the time you and Bucky got to the city, it was already evening. The road hadn’t taken you long, but spending the whole day by the pool and knowing that tomorrow you had to plan just how exactly you would first get involved in the business at least officially made you feel quite tired.
And it was going to be the first night you would stay in your and Bucky’s new apartment.
In the same bed.
Lovely.
Having already ordered the biggest bed you could find, you were sure that this time tomorrow, you would be able to go to sleep and not even notice you were not alone in the bed but tonight was going to be rather challenging. You knew you had slept in the same bed last night, but both of you had been drunk so—
Getting drunk tonight as well sounded like a good idea actually.
When you reached the top floor and saw Bucky’s men patrolling the hallway, you repressed a yawn and followed Bucky to the door of the apartment. He unlocked it, then turned to you with a grin.
“What—” you started but was cut off when he hoisted you up bridal style, making you let out a surprised squeal. “Bucky!”
“It’s tradition,” Bucky said, still grinning. “We’re a traditional couple.”
“No we’re not, put me down!” you said, trying your hardest to stop the giggle threatening to spill from your lips as you held onto his shirt, painfully aware of Bucky’s men stealing glances at you two. Bucky opened the door and stepped inside with you in his arms, then kicked the door close with his foot.
“You’re unbelievable!” you said, unable to stop yourself from smiling as he put you down, and he had the audacity to give you an innocent look.
“What?” he said. “Sweetheart, we’re married now. I’m supposed to carry you over the threshold.”
You lowered your head just so that you could hide your smile and smoothed over your dress, then turned your head to see the multiple gift boxes and flowers in the living room.
“Ah,” you said. “I almost forgot about the wedding gifts.”
“Did we put weapons on the gift list?”
“No,” you said, making your way to the living room. “But we got them, probably. I call dibs on any knives we get by the way.”
“I told Steve I wanted brass knuckles,” Bucky said. “I think he got us a matching pair.”
“Oh I love brass knuckles.”
“I saw this really cool—” Bucky started but stopped talking when a small meow reached your ears. You pulled your brows together and opened your mouth to ask whether he heard it too, but a white ball of fur wheezed through the living room.
“What the…” you trailed off when a beautiful white cat with a pink ribbon on her leash reached you, and sat down to look up at you with wide blue eyes.
“Mrow?”
“Are you seeing this as well?” you asked Bucky and he nodded.
“Why do we have a cat?”
“She’s so cute—did she come with the apartment?” you asked. “No, right? She wasn’t here when we first saw here.”
“No I don’t think…” Bucky said and walked to the door to open it. “Aaron?”
“Mr. Barnes.”
“Who brought the cat?”
“Miss Becca, sir,” the man replied and you bent down to scratch at the cat’s head, making her close her eyes for a moment, purring.
“Hi there,” you whispered, smiling wide. “Aren’t you the cutest thing in the world?”
“Jesus…” Bucky muttered as he closed the door, then took out his phone and touched the screen before putting it on speaker. “I mean it's Becca, of course she-"
“Hey there!” Becca’s cheerful voice filled the room and you looked up, still scratching the cat’s head.
“Becca, why is there a cat in our apartment?” Bucky asked, making her gasp.
“That’s your baby!”
You bit back a smile, fixing the ribbon on the cat’s leash while Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Right," he said. "And why do we have a baby on the first day of our marriage?”
“Because as you said, you’re married now which means you guys can be all responsible and stuff,” she answered. “Her name is Alpine by the way. She’s my wedding gift to you, isn’t she sweet?”
You picked Alpine up, holding her in your arms. “You know, a lot of people just sent flowers as a gift.”
“A lot of people are boring,” Becca replied. “Leila’s friend found her on the street, the poor thing! I’d keep her but Leila is allergic, so there you go. Now you two have a daughter.”
“I’ve always wanted a daughter,” you nodded solemnly and Bucky blinked a couple of times as if he couldn’t believe you were playing along.
“Y/N…”
“I gotta go now, enjoy the first night of parenthood!” Becca said and hung up, making Bucky gawk at the phone before putting it back into his pocket.
“Of course she got us a cat,” he muttered. “Of course.”
Alpine purred in your arms, making you smile down at her before looking up at Bucky.
“We should probably buy stuff for her,” you said, looking around the apartment. “A bed, some food, toys…”
Bucky’s brows rose. “Hold on, we’re keeping her?”
“Of course we are, you heard Becca. She’s our daughter, apparently,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders as you walked to the door. “Her surname will be dashed as well, by the way. Mine and yours together.”
“Y/N—”
“Come on!” you called out as you stepped out of the apartment with Alpine still purring happily and Bucky heaved a sigh, then followed you to the elevator.
Chapter 16
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky#mob!bucky x reader#mob! bucky#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky x reader#mob bucky#mob boss!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mob au#mob!au
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SALT (Bucky x Reader)
Fandom: MCU
Characters/Pairings: mostly-dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Word Count: 2.8k
Summary: True achievement in the restaurant industry requires a relentless drive. No compromises. You've risen through the ranks, and when your mentor retires, you're rightly given the mantle of executive chef at Devour. On your night of ascension, the dining room is packed, and among the guests is someone equally as relentless to get what he wants.
Content Warnings: imbalanced power dynamics, bribery, workplace manipulation, NON/DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit language, risk of being caught, food play, knife play, nipple/breast play, vaginal fingering, forced orgasm, edging, unprotected vaginal intercourse, non-graphic cream pie (not the food kind)
Additional Notes: Written for @the-slumberparty's April Mob AU challenge. Using dark prompt #23 (bolded in the dialogue).
tagging some peeps who showed interest in the preview for this little thing: @sidepartskinnyjeans @vonalyn @winterslove1917
“You’re not serious, Stanley.”
“I am.”
You laughed and shook your head. “Sure. Whatever. I don’t have time for customer meet and greets during a normal service, let alone tonight of all nights.”
“You will do it,” Stanley insisted, “because it’s James Barnes and he’s got more money and influence than any god. He owns the mob scene in this town.”
When your maître d’ didn’t say anything more, you turned to truly look at him.
You frowned but set down your pan with a huff. “Fine. Charlie, take over while I apparently go make an appearance.”
“Table twenty-seven,” Stanley said, handing you a clean dish towel, which you pressed against your forehead, cheeks, and neck as you headed for the door that led from kitchen to dining area, tossing the towel in the laundry bin under one of the counters.
You pushed past the kitchen doors and walked through the dining room towards table twenty-seven, one of the handful booths and tables nestled in small alcoves that offered a little more privacy for VIP reservations, set off on a small dais with walls of green plants strategically placed to create ambience while sectioning off the area from curious eyes and a plethora of potential phone cameras.
There were five individuals seated around the table, but he drew your attention first as you approached. He clocked your progress before any of his companions, and when he looked up, his stare fixed on you with such intensity that you took a brief pause before your next step, which he clearly noted, and the corner of his mouth ticked up in the slightest smirk. It made your blood heat with irritation, but you focused on remaining calm and professional as you stepped up to the table.
“This was an exquisite meal, Chef,” he said, drawing the attention of his companions to you immediately.
“Thank you,” you replied.
“Sam here hasn’t been able to shut up about it since the first course came out,” a blonde man sitting to his right said.
“And you haven’t left even a crumb on your plate through any course, Steve,” he chided back good naturedly.
Each of them had a girl tucked in next to them, but not the man with dark hair and steel blue eyes you still found it difficult to look away from who had to be the infamous James. His friends and their companions continued to rave for another minute or two about different parts of the meal’s courses. You expected them to be closer to the age of your parents, not much nearer yours.
“Well, thank you again,” you finally said. “We’re pleased to have you dining at our restaurant tonight. Devour is a dream for all of us on the staff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the kitchen to oversee final preparations for the dessert course.”
“I’m eager for what’s to come next, Chef,” he said, looking you up and down, his eyes darkening. You’d delivered the overture for your exit, but he somehow made it clear it was only with his approval that you would leave in that moment.
Twenty minutes later, you sprinkled a touch of flaky salt over the ribbon of whiskey-laced caramel drizzled over the chocolate mousse, Charlie adorned it with a perfect rosette of the Chantilly cream, and you slid the final plate across to Stanley, who put it on the final tray and sent the waiter on his way.
“That’s service, everyone!” you announced, and some of the staff clapped and whooped.
You smiled, truly satisfied. Charlie bumped elbows with you, and when you turned your head to look at him, you couldn’t help the genuine smile bursting across your face.
“Truly a triumph for you taking over,” Stanley said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“You’ve more than earned your new title as the executive chef of Devour and this kitch–“
He was cut off as there was a burst of activity at the doors coming in from the dining room. “Everyone, clear the kitchen! Out the back, please,” came a booming voice that you’d heard speak much more congenially earlier in the dining room. It was clear this man was used to giving orders and having them followed without question.
“Excuse me,” Stanley turned to look, but on seeing who was sweeping in and ushering his staff out before him, but his tone shifted when he saw who was giving the orders – now guarded but polite, “Oh, Mr. Rogers.”
“And if I could have a word with you in particular,” Steve said, addressing Stanley and nodding towards the back.
“Of course,” he responded.
You and Stanley exchanged a glance, and you began clearing out with the rest, but Steve put a hand on your shoulder. “Not you,” he said a little more quietly. “You stay here.”
You frowned and tilted your head as you looked up at him. He only smirked at you.
“The rest of you, keep it moving, let’s go!”
You chewed on your bottom lip and let your hand drop to the silver surface of the counter where your fingers immediately began to drum impatiently. After a moment you turned to look over at the door to the dining room, and your breath hitched.
He was there, leaning up against the door frame, blue eyes fixed on you.
His face was unreadable, and so you tried to keep your face blank as well as he stalked toward you, coming around the plating area and to your side of the counter.
“What is this, Mr. Barnes?”
“I’m buying this restaurant. Steve’s arranging everything with Stanley right now.”
Your brow furrowed.
“I own this kitchen, and I own you, Chef.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but he put two fingers to your lips.
“I’m tripling your salary,” he said as he stepped right into your space, backing you up against the counter, only a breath of space between you.
Your heart was racing for too many reasons – anger, incredulity, but also a thrill of arousal. You wanted to refuse him, but he also drew you in, and you could not deny that. You knew he was dangerous, you were infuriated by his audacity, and yet…
“You can’t turn down an offer like that,” he continued, “especially not after the years of hard work I know you put in for the executive chef apron in this kitchen. Our stories are not so different in that way. You earned this. You won’t walk away.”
“I can–“
“But you won’t,” he cut over you. You glowered, but he ignored your slow burning anger and instead reached around behind your back to tug at the ties of your apron. Then his voice dropped down an octave as he spoke again, “Don’t fight me. You will give yourself to me.”
“I won’t.” You cocked your chin up.
“You will,” he insisted. He pulled the black apron away from your body and tossed it onto the counter behind you.
“You will give yourself to me now.” He pushed forward, pinning you to the counter with his pelvis. You tried to suppress a shaky exhale, feeling his erection pressing into you. “Soon you will warm my bed,” he bent his head down to ghost a kiss at your temple, then another on your cheek, before he moved his mouth further down and murmured his next threat down the column of your throat, “and I promise it won’t be long until you will beg for me to take you apart without any coercion.”
When his tongue darted out over the sensitive spot just under your jaw, a whimper escaped from your chest before you could stop it, and you felt him smile against your skin.
You squeezed your eyes shut. “Please, anyone could catch us.”
He chuckled. “Sam and Steve are preventing that,” he said, pulling away just enough to start unbuttoning your black chef’s jacket. “But,” he continued, “if you make too much noise, you’ll confirm that we’re doing anything more than talking.”
Once he had finished with all the buttons, he pushed the coat open. Your eyes were still closed until you felt the cool edge of a knife on your sternum, and your eyes burst open again, fear and adrenaline rushing through your body, but luckily he wasn’t looking at your face, focused instead on your chest where his metal fingers skimmed lightly over the bared skin for just a moment before they gripped the fabric of your black camisole and bra while his other hand tore his knife down in a swift movement, splitting your undergarments down the middle, putting your chest on full display for his hungry eyes. He pushed the clothing out of the way fully only over your left shoulder.
He lifted his gaze to meet your eyes again. “Dessert was exquisite, but it didn’t satisfy what I wanted.”
He reached for a nearby saucepan, which still had a ladle in it, and smiled as he gave it a stir. You watched as he took a scoop of the caramel sauce and poured a little over the round swell of your breast. It was warm, and started to slowly spread, but not enough to drip and make a mess. You imagined in his line of work, he knew how to be precise, not leave anything extra to clean up. He set the pan back down on the counter, and then reached for something else, returning with a pinch of the flaky salt that he then sprinkled over the caramel.
For a moment he merely admired his handiwork. then his warm hand came up to cup the underside of your breast, and then his mouth descended to lap up the salted caramel from your tender flesh. Heat bloomed across your chest and straight to your head and your core, his ministrations eliciting a low moan from you. He hummed in approval, then took your nipple into his mouth. Your nipples were always very sensitive, and he was not careful with his attention there, sucking, nipping, and licking until you whimpered and tried to push him away. He kept mouthing painfully at your nipple another moment longer.
He leaned back for a moment to look own at you, scrutinizing your face. You were not sure what he saw there, truthfully you didn’t know how to feel and what front to put up, but whatever he assessed didn’t deter him.
He lifted one hand to your neck and then trailed the back of his fingers down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach, a light touch that wasn’t rushed, knowing he could draw a shiver of anticipation from you with the purposeful action. He unbuttoned your pants, and as he slipped his hand into your panties and cupped your mound, he leaned in close to your ear and softly said, “You earned this, too, Chef.”
His fingers sought your folds. “And you are wet for me.” You didn’t need to see his face to imagine the satisfaction that must be there – it was evident in his tone. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear. “Close like this,” he whispered, “I’ll still hear even the small pretty noises I’m going to draw from you with my fingers in your cunt.”
And even though you were expecting it – dreading it? – you gasped when he quickly thrust two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, and moved them expertly in and out of your tight heat, questing and quickly finding the sensitive spongy spot on the front of your pelvic wall. You bit your lip to keep keening as quiet as you could, and your arms gripped his biceps, looking for an anchor to reality. He played your pussy quickly, nimble and knowing fingers familiarizing themselves too easily with your body for your comfort.
His thumb went to work expertly drawing tight circles over your clit, still thrusting his fingers inside you, and the additional stimulation forced you into an intense orgasm you didn’t want to give him, burrowing your face into his neck to smother your small cry of ecstasy.
You didn’t want to see his face – undoubtedly haughty knowing he’s pleased you despite you wanting to refuse him the satisfaction – and in this you are spared at least for the moment as without pretense he abruptly spins you around and tugs your pants and underwear down your thighs. You heard the quick unbuckling of his belt and unzipping of his pants as he freed his hard length. You had only a second to brace yourself against the countertop as he gripped your hip with one hand and used his other to guide his tip to your thoroughly slick and ready opening. One full and quick thrust had him fully sheathed inside you, punching the air from your lungs. He leaned forward against your back, his mouth close to your ear again. “Feel me in there? Stretching you to the limit.”
He rolled his hips ever so slightly, slowly, and your head fell back against his shoulder.
“Yes, Chef. Just like that.”
He pulled his hips back, then gave another slow and powerful drive into your cunt. “Feel as smooth and velvety around my cock as that caramel sauce was on my tongue.” While one hand remained on your hip, as he began to pick up the pace with his thrusts his other hand brushed up your spine, then moved around to grasp your breast, the one he’d overstimulated just a few minutes before. You whimpered and tried to jerk away, but you’re met with his strong chest up against your back. He chuckled and then began to tweak and roll the nipple between his fingers.
You tried to pull his hand away, still whimpering.
“I intend to leave you feeling me for days from this, Chef,” he growls in your ear. His thrusts become rougher, faster, slamming into you over and over again. Your hands pulled at his wrist torturing your nipple, but your strength was nothing to his, and soon tears were spilling down your cheeks. When an audible sob escaped your throat, he finally relented and released your breast, but then he gripped your hips with both hands, showing no mercy for your pussy as he chased his own pleasure.
Without the pain, your body focused only on the pleasure mounting in your core now. This felt good. He felt good. His cock filled you exquisitely. You tried to rock your hips just slightly to where you know he’d hit that pleasurable spot in you again, but he controlled the movement and forced you to stay at the angle he wanted.
“This one is for me, Chef, not you,” he grunted.
Still, you pant together, lungs heaving, and you’re hurtling toward another orgasm. His hips stutter for a moment, and with a groan he releases his spend inside you, slowing his movements.
You couldn’t hold back a needy whine as he pulled out of you. You looked over your shoulder at him incredulously, edged to the very moment before but then denied your second release.
He paused after tucking his softening cock back into his boxer briefs and gripped your chin, demanding an abrasive kiss from your lips. “When you come apart on my cock, I want to watch your beautiful face and hear you beg for me.”
Years in the kitchen have taught you to hold back your words when there’s even a shade of uncertainty, and you are uncertain if you will give him what he wants or not, because you can’t deny that your body absolutely wants him, and part of your spirit does, too. Relentless power recognizing another like its own, and you hate that you’re more than a little intrigued. You don’t want to just give him what he wants, but a tiny sliver of you whispers that you shouldn’t cut off your nose just to spite him.
You pulled up your pants while you heard him zip and buckle his own pants again. One he had tucked in his shirt, again with swift precision, he turned you back around to face him. He reached for your apron, wiped his hands, then set it back on the counter. He didn’t mess with your torn shirt and bra other than to adjust them well enough so he could close your chef coat and button that back up over your chest.
He gazed right into your eyes again, brushing his thumb over your lips, parting them slightly, then pushing them closed again.
“I’ll be back for more soon,” he finally said, then walked away without another word.
Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
LINK TO PART TWO: FAT
#mob!bucky barnes x reader#dark!bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes smut#navy and roo's sleepover#navy and roo sleepover#bucky smut#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob boss!bucky#mob boss au#mob boss! avengers#f!reader#aspen wrote something#female reader
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Hell Hath No Fury Like A Farmer Socrned
PAIRING: Female Rancher! Reader x Mafia Boss!Bucky Barnes
SUMMARY: When his lover is snatched from her ranch, everyone better watch out, and not for the reason they all thought.
WARNINGS: Cannon-level violence, mentions of blood, fighting etc.
Word Count: 1284
A/N: Wow here we are! My first AU! I had this idea while I was a work the other day and thought it was funny. Sorry if it is not that coherent but I tried. If you guys want to see more of this pairing send me some ideas! I'd love to try some more of these two!
Enjoy! <3
Divider by Rookthorne
James Bucky Barnes was known for many things, brilliant, cold, ruthless, fierce ruler of the Brooklyn mafia, amongst many other things. One thing he was not known for was his cool temperament when someone he cared for was in danger which is why his two most trusted men, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson hesitated outside of their boss's office door, not sure how they would break the news. After sucking a deep breath, the pair walked into the room. Bucky sat at his sturdy redwood desk, feet propped up as he leaned back in his lavish office chair. His gaze snapped from the contract to his men standing in the doorway before returning to the papers in his hand as he spoke.
“How may I help you, gentleman?” His deep voice reverberated across the room.
“They’ve got her, boss,” Sam stated evenly, ice dancing across each word. Bucky was on his feet in an instant, staring down the mean in front of him.
“What?” He hissed, any other person in his company would have shivered at the venom lashing out of his words, but it just caused Steve to sigh looking his boss, his dear friend in the eyes.
“They got Y/n at the farm this morning. They just sent in a live video feed that Stark has pulled up in the conference room no-”
Before the words could finish leaving Steve’s mouth, Bucky was shoving past them and all but running down the hall to the conference room. He burst into the room to see Tony messing with the camera feed while the rest of his most trusted men sat around the table, staring at Bucky waiting for his reaction. Bucky walked over to his chair placing his hands on the back of it as he stared at the screen playing the live video feed of Y/n sitting there, tied to a chair with some plastic-coated twine, no doubt from the truck she was in earlier that morning.
Bucky’s eyes traced over her frame, looking for any injuries. If there was so much a hair out of place he thought as his ringed fingers gripped the plush material even harder, causing his knuckles to turn white. As he continued his assessment he landed on her face and it was then that he sucked in a breath, taking notice of how her once soft lips were now busted up and the small gash across the bridge of her nose. What caused him to let out a breath was the overall look on her face. She was livid. Her jaw clenched tightly, her once sparkling eyes dark with fury, he could practically see the rage pouring off of her. Evidently, the guards standing on either side of her took notice as they began to shift uncomfortably.
She's going to be fine. Bucky thinks to himself as he lets out a small sigh of relief.
Bucky pulled out his chair and sat down calmly, catching everyone in the room, including Steve and Sam who had joined the room just a few moments ago, off guard. He cocked his head sideways,
“Will you let them know that we are all present Stark? That seems to be what they are waiting on.” He spoke, his tone even and calm causing everyone to share looks as Tony patched in the audio.
“Afternoon Barnes.” A voice called out as a figure walked around from behind the camera revealing Brock Rumalow, the leader of the rival mob who had been fighting with the Barnes Corp. For many years.
“Looks like you are starting to slack, she was an easy grab.” Rumalow sneered as he approached Y/n, walking around her chair as he ran his hand up her arm and wrapping a hand around the back of her neck causing an even more crossed look to appear on her face.
“Such a shame, I don’t understand why you would let such a pretty little thing out of your sight.”
The atmosphere in the conference room was tense. Everyone knew about the sweet little cattle rancher Bucky fell in love with many months ago. He had finally brought her around during the Christmas party last month where she was loved by everyone who was able to talk with her. However, she was new to this world, his world and so everyone was worried about her the moment they heard she was taken, but watching her now, she didn’t seem the least bit scared, more annoyed than anything, causing confusion to ripple through the air, but no questions were asked as Rumalow continued speaking,
“I believe she has a few things to say to you, James.” He crowed walking away from Y/n with a pat on her cheek, returning to his position behind the camera while she let out a loud huff.
“Yeah, I got some things to say alright. If you aint here in the next hour, I’m gonna be walking home myself. I got a mare due any day now and these asswipes didn’t bother to close the cattle gate after they got me so now all the cattle are probably running amuck stressing out poor Parker.”
Bucky let out a soft chuckle, only Y/n would be worried about her poor farm hand while she sat tied down to a chair by her boyfriend's rival gang.
“I got the location of the camera Buck,” Tony calls out from behind the computer, “It’s only a few blocks away, in that old warehouse on the junction of 5th Avenue and Bakers Street.”
Bucky brushed invisible dust off his pants and started to speak when there was a large commotion coming from the video feed.
Everyone watched in pure shock as Y/n snapped the twine holding her in place, jumping up and kicking a chair at one guard and wrapping the now wrecked twine around the other's neck yanking him down to the ground, his skull hitting the floor with a sickening crack.
Once the guards were dispatched, Y/n glanced to her left before darting off in that direction, the shock of her escape must have finally worn off of Rumalow because everyone, except for Bucky, jumped to their feet as gunshots began ringing out behind the field of view of the camera. There is a loud metallic “thwang!” before Y/n returned to view, holding an old shovel with a small smattering of blood on it and an even more disgruntled look on her face as she examines her once clean cream and blue plaid shirt that was now ruined by a few small patches of blood.
Bucky smiles as he hears a few curses leave her mouth along with a “I just got the blood out of this shirt”.
Y/n then walks up to the camera, letting out a huff as she picks it up and starts making her way towards the side exit. She glances down at the camera before she starts speaking,
“By the looks of it, you have 45 minutes to get here before I start walking, which believe me you do not want me doing that. ‘Cause I swear to God and all that is holy James Buchannan Barnes if that foal is on the ground by the time I get back I’m whooping your and everyone else in that room's asses.”
Bucky chuckles and stands up looking at Sam and Steve as he motions for them to come with him to the garage to pick up Y/n.
“It looks like she had them after all.” Bucky muses as they enter the elevator. The other men nod in agreement as Sam then says, “Remind me to never piss her off.”
#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes#mafia au#mafia boss!Bucky x Rancher!Reader#mafia bucky x reader#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky x you
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Sebastian Stan Fanfiction Masterlist
Bucky Barnes
Red Ties - Bucky Barnes
The King - Bucky Barnes
The Rise of Hydra - Bucky Barnes
The Captains Daughter - Bucky Barnes
Trespassing - Bucky Barnes
The Presidents Daughter - Bucky Barnes
A Slave for You - Bucky Barnes
She Works for the Devil - Bucky Barnes
At His Service - Bucky Barnes
Territory - Bucky Barnes
New World Order - Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark
Companion - Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers
Repaying the Debt - Bucky Barnes
Bucky Barnes One shots
Steve Kemp
Not Leaving - Steve Kemp
Max Burnett
The Sharpest Lies - Max Burnett
Max Burnett One shots
Nick Fowler
Nick Fowler One shots
Sebastian Stan
Sebastian Stan One shots
#sebastian stan#sebastian stan fanfiction#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#sebastian stan smut#bucky barnes fanficiton#the winter soldier#bucky barnes smut#steve kemp#fresh#fresh movie#fresh 2022#winter soldier smut#winter soldier fanfiction#falcon and the winter soldier#max burnett#nick fowler#sharper#mafia Bucky barnes#mob boss Bucky barnes#CEO Bucky barnes#dom bucky barnes#dom sebastian stan
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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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All I Want
Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader
Word count: 3.4 K
Summary: Steve has left you alone for a week with no explanation. Will you let him back into your life?
Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. A lot of FLUFF Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. A slap on the face, organized crime, implied violent retaliation, Bucky’s arm injury implied, Steve simping for reader, reader watching porn, sloppy toppy, gagging, swallowing, coached masturbation, oral (m/f receiving) fingering, nipple play, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, violence (due to mob world).
A/N: This is a bonus for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask and any other requests for a part 2 to Try a Little Tenderness. Here it is babes, I hope you like it as much as the first part. Happy New Year! 🍾
I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.
I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
Sam came, and he watched as you paced in your closed store the first day after the dust up at DUMBO. He told you minimal information, just that Bucky was alive and that he was going to stay there per Steve’s ‘request’ until he asked him to leave.
“I’m opening my store today.”
“No. You are not.”
Sam was usually nice, with that beautiful smile on display whenever he picked up Steve’s gifts. But now, he was steadfast.
You were hot. Not only at Steve for not telling you the whole story, but at everyone.
You couldn’t just sit around all day. You walked up to Sam and stood toe to toe.
“Take off that expensive jacket.”
You had an apron with the store logo in your hand.
Hours later, Sam took a break from helping you do store inventory to take a call. You kept working as he stepped into the back room. Then, you walked back to listen.
You peeked around your corner to see Sam letting out a sigh of relief.
“Good. At least that’s progress? He squeezed your hand?”
He paused.
“I know he has a long way to go, but you know Buck’s a fighter.”
“…Yes. Steve. I’m trying, but you know she’s stubborn…She’s okay. She’s a pistol, and she’s working me to death. She’s pissed at you though. At all of us. Yeah… I don’t think I can protect you from that. I’ll tell her it will be a while…”
You went back to your spreadsheet feeling some kind of way. Steve had time to call Sam, but not you. Okay.
Sam stepped out of the back room.
“Bucky’s alive. He was very badly injured, his left arm is…”
Sam paused, looking at you warily.
You looked back at him relieved, yet anxious at the same time.
“Let’s just say that he has a long road.”
You nodded and swallowed.
“What about Steve?”
You hated yourself for asking Sam. You should have been talking to Steve. But you couldn’t help it.
“He’s fine. Just has some… work to do right now.”
Your stomach dropped and you lifted your chin.
“What Steve does with his time has nothing to do with me, Sam. I don’t own him and he certainly does not own me.”
You were ready to fight.
“It’s not like we’re in a relationship. Steve’s fine, Bucky’s alive. So you can go now.”
You looked him in the eye so that he could get the message.
Sam shook his head.
“That’s not gonna happen Y/N.”
You glared at him.
“Tell your Boss that I’m sending you back.”
Sam advanced upon you, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.
“Learn this, Y/N. Steve’s not my Boss. He’s my friend, and just like Bucky, he’s my partner. I'm doing him a favor making sure you’re alright. That’s what friends do. You can’t send me back.”
You two stared at each other. This must be what it was like to have a brother.
“You know you’re very annoying.”
“Same, lady.”
You fought the urge to laugh and wanted to stick your tongue out at him.
“Get back to work. We have the entire stockroom to count.”
Sam shook his head and obliged.
Six days later, on Christmas Eve, the bell rang, signaling someone opening the door. You turned with a smile to greet the customer to see Steve standing there.
It was liked the wind was knocked out of you.
Steve stood there, staring at you, looking very tired, but with those same sparkling blue eyes. And he had the nerve to smile at you.
“Can I have the usual?”
He was a sight for sore eyes. You’d spent the week worried and frustrated, in addition to mad as hell. But he looked so damn good.
You walked over to Steve, and gazed up at him as he beamed down on you. You did the only thing you could think to do.
You slapped him.
“How dare you!”
Sam, who was in his apron behind the register, audibly gasped, because it didn’t end well with the last woman who slapped Steve. She’d ended up climbing out of a dumpster where Steve had unceremoniously placed her.
You looked over at Sam.
“Here is your friend, Sam. Talk to him. Because I certainly won’t.”
Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute as he rubbed his face. That fire pent up inside you signaled a need for release. He watched you hungrily as you left, then turned back to Sam.
You stormed upstairs toward your apartment, hearing the beginnings of thier conversation.
“I thought we agreed to keep the store closed, Sam.”
“Well, the store’s owner might have a little to say to that. Have you ever tried to get her to do something she didn’t want to do?…”
You went upstairs, straight to the kitchen, reaching for your liquor cabinet. It was only noon, but you needed a drink.
You heard the door open behind you and did not turn around. You heard his steps into the kitchen, but you were immovable.
“Pour me one?”
You reached for a glass and slammed it down on the counter next to you, then poured some Uncle Nearest into it. You still didn’t look at him, but you shivered as he stepped behind you, nearly touching you to reach around for the glass, but only sharing his body heat.
“I deserve your anger, Ambrosia, But at the beginning, I genuinely thought that you knew who I was. I mean….”
You spun around, eyes full of fire, facing down Steve’s desire for you. And there was something else in his eyes. But you launched in nevertheless.
“At no time over dinner, or while you were sweet talking me into bed, did you mention that you were the head of an international crime organization. And then you put my business in danger. And apparently my life???”
Steve sighed and scrubbed his face.
“I know you’re angry, Baby, but you gotta listen to me.”
You closed your mouth and crossed your arms.
Steve’s face softened. At least you weren’t running away.
“I said at the beginning I thought you knew who I was. But then I realized that you didn’t know me as Steve Rogers the big bad dude, I was just that one customer who was sweet on you and sent gifts. And that made me fall for you even more.”
When he said ‘fall for you,’ your eyes went to his.
“Yeah, I said it.”
“Steve…”
You were trying to remain upset, but he was so sincere. Your resolve was weakening.
“Fall for me? You haven’t spoken to me in a week, Steve. You called Sam every day but…”
“I had work to do. Bucky was injured and he was touch and go. And I had to take care of… I had to take care of some things.”
He looked at you and slowed down.
“You had work to do? So did I. But you told me to close my store. You couldn’t have taken a few minutes to call, to text? I figured I didn’t mean as much to you as I thought.”
You looked down at your dirty chucks, and at Steve’s Ferragamos.
Steve moved closer and tilted your head up by your chin. The electricity from his fingers was almost too much.
“No, Ambrosia.”
Steve’s eyes were wild now, and desperate. He wanted you to understand so badly, but he knew it would seem outlandish.
“You mean so much more. I fell for you because there were no expectations. I kept buying you gifts and you kept sending them back. And I thought you didn’t want me. But then when I asked you on a date and you accepted, I realized that…”
“…That all I want is you.”
You looked up at him and bit your lip. Steve could hardly contain himself.
“I can listen to you, Steve. And I would have listened if you called.”
Steve leaned down and kissed your lips softly. He groaned when you yielded to him, opening your mouth and peeking out your little tongue. He wanted to ravage you, but first, you had to understand.
“You’ve got to know. You’ve got to know that you change me Ambrosia. With you I am a different man. I couldn’t call you because you make me weak.”
Steve kissed your frown and started talking again.
“With you, weak is a good thing. I am gentle, I am kind. I am patient.”
Steve looked into your eyes.
“I am in love.”
You gasped.
“Steve…”
“You gotta listen. When I left, all I could think about, besides Bucky, was you. Your smile, your wit, your laugh, your body. How it felt to make love to you. To be inside you. To make you cum. Do you remember, do you remember how it felt?”
You smiled and nodded, playing with the St. Christopher’s medal around his neck.
“Look at me. Do you remember? Use your words.”
You clenched at his command. And you obeyed.
“Yes, Steve. I remember. I was sore for three days.”
Your admission and the new huskiness in your voice made him pull you closer and you could feel the pulsing in his pants. You also felt his heart beating in his chest.
“Fuck, Ambrosia. You make me wanna ruin you again.”
The way you looked at him indicated that you wanted the same. Steve felt his knees almost give out. He chuckled.
“See? You make me weak in the knees. Thoughts of you make me soft. And for what I had to do, I couldn’t be. D’you understand?”
You tried to think rationally. You knew what he was saying without saying it. He had to do horrible things. You watched the news this past week. You knew what Steve was responsible for. But you didn’t care. Bucky was always nothing but kind to you. And he was Steve’s best friend.
You thought about what you would have done in this situation. You looked back up at Steve.
“I understand.”
You bit your lip again.
“And I am still standing here with you because it is too late for me to tell you to leave. I endured Sam sleeping on my couch for a week and protecting me because I love you too, Steve. I think I have been in love with you for months now. And then, last week...”
Your hands moved to slip his jacket off his shoulders, kneading them and feeling the tension there. Steve’s eyes sought yours again.
“You love me too?”
“Yes, are you tired?”
“Exhausted, but… You want me to stay?”
“Yes…”
Your hand was on the outside of Steve’s pants, grasping his hardness and making him groan, knowing that he was leaking in his underwear. His hands moved up your sides and lifted you up to sit on the counter.
He dove into your neck, inhaling your scent and giving you gentle kisses that made you arch your back and your breasts into his chests. Then, he started sucking hickeys into you as his hands came up to knead and grasp you, and to tease your nipples with his thumbs.
“All week I’ve gone to bed and woken up rock hard to visions of you. Didn’t wanna jack off. I need you Ambrosia. Need to see you cum again. Need to bury myself deep inside you. Need for you to hug me in all the ways. Need to see your beautiful body. Need to sleep with you in my arms. I’m tired. Tired of being without you.”
You nuzzled his ear, knowing that the only important thing right now was his need. And yours.
“Sounds like you need me to suck your dick.”
You felt bold because he wasn’t looking at you.
The man literally growled in your ear and then picked you up, still wrapped around him like a vine, and carried you to your bedroom. He sat you down on your bed and looked down on you as you looked up at him.
“What did you say?”
Steve made sure to hold your head up so you could look him in the eye. Your eyes watered as you licked your lips and took a deep breath.
“I said, I want to suck your dick.”
“That’s… what I thought you said.”
Steve continued to hold your head by your chin, and stuck his thumb in your mouth as he undid his pants. You squirmed as you got wet at the sound of his belt clanging on the floor and sucked his thumb like it was going out of style.
Steve could hardly catch his breath for anticipation and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He looked down at you as he pumped his massively hard cock in your face.
“I want to be very, very rough with you, but I’m not going to hurt you, Baby. You want this?”
Steve moved himself to within an inch of your lips.
“Please…”
You made to move closer, but he held you fast. You almost felt his dick jump when you saw it. You squirmed again.
“Can you take it?”
You managed to extend your tongue and collect the drops of precum on his tip, making Steve shiver as his blazing eyes looked down on you.
“Fuck my face…”
“Holy!”
Steve grabbed both sides of your head as you opened wide and accepted him into your mouth.
“That hot little mouth, holy shit, Ambrosia. How do you…”
You concentrated and allowed him to push past your tonsils to your throat, then suckled him as he pulled out, tracing your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. You ran your hands up his sides, tracing his v cut and abs upward under his shirt. Steve scrambled to take it off, and then pulled you off of him to take your shirt off.
“Where did you learn that?”
Steve raised his eyebrow as you grabbed for him again. He tried to be gentle, but you wouldn’t allow it, as you bottomed out again.
This time when you pulled off, gasping you said one word, “Porn,” and then started slurping sloppily again.
Steve stood there, head thrown back as you took his hips and went to town.
“Thank goodness for technology.”
You hummed your agreement, and then went for the gold.
“Ho-ho-holyyyyy. I’m gonna, fuckkkk Ambrosia, I’m gonna…”
You started gagging louder and finally, Steve took your head in order to use your mouth for his pleasure.
“It’s gonna be a lot… “
Steve was looking down on you with lust and you basked in it.
“You gonna swallow?”
You nodded eagerly, as Steve bared his teeth with an effort to hold back. You played with his balls, and he couldn’t anymore.
“Swallow like a good… fucking… girl…”
With those three thrusts, Steve sent a torrent of spend past your lips. You gulped it down and Steve thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He fell to his knees and you hugged him, assenting to his kiss so that he could taste himself on you.
“Thank you for that. Now I can think straight.”
He moved to push you back on the bed.
“So, my sweet Ambrosia has been watching porn, huh?”
“I missed you Steve. Missed your cock.”
Steve shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m so sorry.”
Steve was now taking off your shoes, pants, and panites. He kissed your thighs and spread your legs with his hands. He was looking deep into your intimate parts.
“My little sweet flower. Still so beautiful. But now she’s so sloppy.”
Those blue eyes looked at you, and your cheeks warmed.
“What happened?”
That deep voice.
“You know, Steve…”
“You like sucking my cock, yeah?”
“Yes, I do. Been dreaming of it.”
Steve grunted. His cock coming back to life at your words.
“You been touching yourself?”
“I have, but nothing compares to you. Didn’t know if I would see you again. Was thinking of getting a toy.”
Steve looked angry for a second.
“Never doubt, as long as I have breath in my body. You will see me again.”
His eyes flicked down your body, reminding you of possession.
“Show me how you touched yourself. I wanna watch. Will you let me watch you cum?”
You squirmed at the request.
“Ssteeevvveeee!”
“Don’t be shy. Look. I’ll join you.”
Steve leaned up on his elbow and started stroking his dick, making you wetter than you already were.
You bit your lip and slid your hands from your tits down your sides, one moving back up to play with your nipple, and the other finding your clit. You licked your lips as your fingers played in your slippery slit and lubricated your button. The sound was pornographic as your movements indicated how wet you were.
You watched as Steve opened his mouth and moved his hand faster.
“Put your fingers inside, baby. Pretend they’re mine.”
You shivered as you obeyed and your thumb tuned your body to a marvelous frequency with Steve watching. It was so erotic. You started to cum when Steve started moaning.
“How pretty. Y’look so pretty getting off. Pretty little fingers in that gorgeous hole. My sweet Ambrosia…”
He was descending toward your center, breath hot on your cunt. He inhaled deeply, taking in the essence of you.
“Let me be your toy…”
And his lips wrapped around your vibrating clitoris, sliding it between his lips quickly at first, causing you to jump, then, when his strong hands held your thighs open, he suckled it completely into his mouth and used his tongue to try and suck the life out of you.
You screamed and Steve slipped a finger inside your tight hole, thrusting gently at first, and then adding another finger and becoming more insistent in the quest for your orgasm.
You came very quickly, knees around his head before he pried them off and then held you open. Steve blew on your cunt to extend the sensations, and thrummed your clit while you begged him to stop. The quivers were extended as he came up and sucked your nipples, and pulling his hair only spurred him on longer.
When you finally, finally came down, your hoarse voice complained to,
“All my stars and heavens, Steve!”
“How can you be so fucking cute and so damn sexy at the same time. My dream girl.”
Steve kissed your forehead as you grabbed his cock and started pumping.
“Gimme.”
Steve tried to frown at you.
“So demanding.”
“Steve please.”
“You want this dick?”
Your breathy “Yes!” almost made him almost cum in your hand.
“You. Are going to be the death of me.”
Steve held your thighs in your hands and pushed them up beside you.
His stiff cock seemed to know the way home as he positioned himself at your entrance. He slid the thick head inside you as you keened as you knew his shaft was almost as thick.
“You okay, Baby?”
“Hnnngh.. Oh Steve…give me more…”
Steve almost exploded at your face and the way you were squeezing him.
“Okay.. I don’t really wanna… hurt…”
“Hurt me pleaseeeee.”
“Shiiiitttttttt.”
Steve slid into your very wet canal and stayed there as you wrapped all of your limbs around him as you got used to his girth again.
“I-I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum… inside… I can’t… you’re gripping me so… so so tight…”
“Mmmmmmghhh! Give me!”
And Steve started moving, slowly at first, and as you urged him on, faster and deeper.
“I had plans for how I was gonna… fuck…”
“Oh my god… Steve, I’m…”
“I wanted to go nice and slow… ohhhhhh…”
When he felt you quiver around him was when he started cumming.
“Fuck! It’s too soon… oh my god you feel so good…”
Steve buried his face into your neck, huffing and puffing as his cum spurted out of him and into your warm goodness. You felt every splash of his hot ejection inside you and briefly considered the consequences.
So did Steve.
“Oh shit, I came inside you.”
Steve looked pretty pleased with himself. You had to laugh.
“I can’t with you, Steve.”
“I believe you just did.”
You both chuckled as he kissed you and collapsed on the bed.
Steve pulled you close.
“Sam is probably down there dealing with customers…still got bills to pay. The lights, the mortgage…”
You were dumping the last thoughts out of your head as you were falling asleep.
“Not the mortgage anymore. Valkyrie bought it from Wells Fargo…”
Steve sighed and kissed you on the forehead, exhaustion finally catching up with him.
“Oh, ” You replied as you snuggled closer to him.
And both of you fell into the warm embrace of deep sleep for an afternoon nap.
READ Part three I WONDER
If you liked it, please reblog!
#dj’salliwant4kchristmas22#ask dj#dj will answer#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x black reader x lloyd hansen#steve rogers fics#mob!steve rogers#mob boss steve rogers#mob boss!steve#mob boss! steve rogers x reader#chris evans fanfiction#steve rogers imagine#Bucky Barnes#Sam Wilson
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Arranged-one
Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.
Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.
Authors Note: here we go! This is my first time at a mob boss au so let's hope you all like it! Tags for this will be open, just shoot me a message or comment if you're interested!
Arranged Masterlist
I sighed while looking up at the large mansion in front of me, bags placed neatly behind me. The driver gave me a curt nod and with a smile of thanks, I saw him on his way before looking back at the mansion; my new home.
Anger radiated throughout my insides when I thought of the reason why I was in this mess in the first place.
My parents. I loved them to death, they would do anything for me and I for them.
I was to be married off and not to any regular man. In a week's time, I was going to be married to New York’s highest feared mob boss. Confusion filled me at first when I couldn’t quite understand why they thought this was a great idea but deep down I knew why they did it. They wanted the best for me, to be set up for the rest of my life and not have to worry about anything. Which is exactly why they set up this arrangement.
With a soft sigh, I ascended the staircase up to the front door and softly knocked, the nerves attacking me. I bounced on the soles of my heels as I waited.
The door opened, revealing a small, older lady who had a confused expression. “Can I help you?”
I nodded. “Uh, hi. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I believe Mr.-.”
Her eyes lit up while furiously nodding. “Yes, come in.”
With a smile, I went to drag my bags inside but she waved me off. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll have someone grab that and bring it to your room.”
She motioned for me to follow her inside and that’s when I took in my new home. A large grand staircase twisted and turned upstairs, and one hallway to my right and another towards the left.
“I’m Barb. I’m here for whatever you need,” the older lady smiled.
My own matched hers. “Thank you, Barb.”
“So,” she motioned to the hallway on my left. “If you go down that hallway you’ll find the rest of the house; kitchen, living area, gym, a couple bathrooms, and the laundry room.”
She then pointed to the hallway on my right. “Down here is an empty room that’s been used for storage and his office. He doesn’t like to be bothered unless it’s an emergency. A good rule to live by: Door open means come in, door cracked means ask, door closed means turn your back and walk away.”
I quirked a brow. “You know from experience?”
“I’ve been taking care of this house and him for the last 10 years. A little piece of advice?”
When I nodded, Barb continued. “He may come off as an asshole sometimes but he really is a sweet loving man.”
Her words warmed my heart. I had heard rumors about him, everyone has. They weren’t positive ones either. There was a reason why he was the worst feared mob boss of New York.
“Upstairs is where the bedrooms are,” She motioned for me to follow, which I did.
Once we reached the top of the stairs she nodded towards two closed doors. “The door on the left is the master bedroom and that one across the hall is yours.”
“Wait, we’re not sharing a room?” I questioned.
Barb shook her head. “He doesn’t want to pressure you. He already knows that you weren’t too fond of this arrangement so he wanted you to have your own space until you’re ready to stay with him.”
I could only nod, not sure what to say exactly, so Barb opened my bedroom door allowing me to step inside.
The room wasn’t anything special, I mean it was the size of my old apartment so the extra space was nice and the bathroom was breathtaking with the large tub facing the large open fields behind the home. But what caught my attention was the large bouquet of roses on the bedside table and a gorgeous floor length black dress lay on the edge of the bed with a note.
Dinner tonight. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs at seven.
B.B.
“Where is he anyway?” I asked Barb while shedding off my coat, letting it drop onto my bed.
“In a meeting but should be finishing up soon. Feel free to have a look around and make yourself at home. Just make sure to check his-.”
“Check his door before entering,” I finished Barb’s sentence with a smile.
Barb waved goodbye, letting me be by myself to settle in. However, just as I was about to call after her for my bags, a large blonde walked into my room and placed all of my things in the doorway.
I knew in the way that the muscles in his back and arms flexed that carrying all of my things didn’t bother him. He stood tall before a smile peaked out from underneath his beard and he slicked back his long blonde hair out of his face. He was dressed in a light blue dress shirt and dark dress pants, the shirt bringing out the blueness of his eyes.
He definitely had to work for him.
“That should be everything.”
I nodded at him. “Yeah, thank you, uh-.”
“Steve Rogers. But you can call me Steve,” he extended his hands.
Hesitantly I placed my own in his and with his size, I was shocked at how soft his grip was; almost as if he was afraid. Our hands lingered together for a few more beats before he dropped his hand away and stuffed them into the pockets of his pants.
“Do you need anything?” Steve asked.
“I think I’m good, thank you.” I gave him a smile.
“Of course but if you do, let me know. I’ve been assigned to you.”
I squinted my eyes at him. “Assigned?”
“Your bodyguard. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without me,” Steve informed.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I cursed, suddenly feeling the anger that was dormant since before I walked into this house.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
Steve hesitantly nodded. “I understand but he insists.”
Not saying another word, I pushed past Steve and sprinted down the stairs towards the office, not caring to look to see what his door was like. I may have agreed to this marriage, reluctantly, but I did not agree to have a babysitter and be followed around everywhere I went. I needed to have some rules in this arrangement.
Thankfully the door to his office was cracked but I didn’t bother to ask if I could come in.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” I seethed as I entered.
He was in the middle of sitting on his green velvet couch and crossed his leg over his other knee. Even underneath his smirk, I knew he was upset about my barging in. I was so angry about this that I didn’t even notice how breathtaking he looked under the faint light that emanated from the lamps next to his couch. But then once the anger dissipated slightly, my gaze fell onto his left arm as he ran a hand over the stubble on his chin and an audible gasp fell through my lips when I realized that the biggest rumor about him was true. The light brushed off the metal, his fingers poking out of the sweater he was wearing.
“Sit,” he pointed to the chair across from him.
I stood my ground while crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t need a fucking baby sitter, Barnes.”
“Call me Bucky.”
I wanted to wipe the smug smirk off of his face.
“I can take care of myself,” I stated flatly.
“I’m sure you can but given my reputation, I think it’s best. Steve’s one of my best men, he’s worked for me since the beginning. I trust him.”
My soon to be husband leaned back into his couch, resting the different arm across the back of it. If he noticed me staring, he made no comment about it, only nodded to the chair across from him once again.
I ignored him, yet again.
“Next time you make a decision about me or how I’m going to live around here, run it by me first alright?” I suggested.
Bucky’s eyes turned dark. “You do know who you’re talking to, right?”
I scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck who you are, James Buchanan Barnes. The only reason why I’m here is because of my parents and their wishes.”
We were interrupted by a knock to the door, a group of men clutching briefcases close to them.
“I thought our meeting was scheduled for four,” one of them said.
These men screamed ‘sketchy’ and knew whatever kind of meeting they were about to have was going to be one that I shouldn’t be around for.
Bucky nodded. “We were just finishing up here.”
He then turned his attention towards me. “We can finish this discussion during dinner.”
“Consider this conversation over,” I muttered while storming out of the room, letting the door slam behind me.
#mob!bucky#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky barnes and reader#mob!boss bucky and yn#mob!boss bucky barnes x yn#mob!boss bucky barnes x y/n#mob!bucky barnes and y/n#mobboss!bucky barnes and reader#ssebastian stan#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes
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KNOW YOUR RHYTHM
IMAGINE… CAPTURING THE ATTENTION OF NEW YORK’S MOST POWERFUL MOB BOSS; AND HE PLANS TO MAKE YOU HIS
Mob boss! Bucky Barnes x Dance choreo! Female Reader
—- gifs/images found on pinterest, credit to original posters -—
While preparations are being made for tgow’s soon to be posted prelude and side blog launch. May or may not be turned into a full one shot later on, this idea's been on my mind for a while now.
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| TAGLIST
@mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos
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(18+ intended content) Read below the cut at your own risk!
It’s cruel to watch you, knowing that this is your last rehearsal with the girls. After this, the doors will promise an opening night to remember. But if you’ve given any hints, you don’t exactly intend on seeing it.
And for Bucky, that is just plain torture for him. Over the past three months, you have been working your pretty arse off creating a whole show routine, expertly weaving the backbone of the club’s entertainment and allocating the playlist to fit the atmosphere Bucky and his club managers wanted.
Lounging in the VIP section, a raised loft that oversaw the club’s dance floor, stage and regulars bar, Bucky still cannot take his eyes off of you. Why of all nights did you have to go racing off to another job so soon? He had paid you generously, far more than any hired choreographer could ever dream of, and yet that still didn’t seem enough to convince you. He hovers like a shadow, leaning to the dark steel railing, his ring-lined fingers drum against the dark steel as he contemplates his next move.
He barely pays any mind to his captains who take their place in the sleek, refined office that are the booths, sipping at their drinks and chatting about the club’s interests and rates. Shit that he tunes out. He can’t focus on anything when you move like that, your body arching this way and that; sinful and cause for impossible. But you prove him wrong. There are many positions he’s fantasised taking you in mid rehearsal.
Your body is pulled into the music itself. A process many seem to struggle with, but for you, it’s as easy as breathing. At first, it’d been a gamble of who to hire for the job, and now Bucky cannot dream of regretting choosing you. Renowned as a star dancer, you’re credited with awards from around the globe, in solos, duos and exceeding the numbers. Competition after competition, your name became well known.
But there is a line in your record, as Bucky had his men find, and though the exact details are still unknown to him, it’s given him an indicator that something hit rock bottom. Some time afterwards, however, you resurfaced as a dance choreographer.
And if you were still the best of the best, then he’d take you for the job. But now, he wants you for good. Dressed to the nines in outfits he’s spent on all his cards, riding to events together and having the envy of every man and woman’s eyes upon you. Hell, he’s already contemplated the venue and diamond ring.
“Chins forward, eyes open,” you call in correction, gaze set straight ahead of you in the midst of a spinning twirl before planting your heeled stiletto hard into the stage floor with a resounding boom.
Bucky’s eyes trail then upwards, the dark colour of your pantyhose hiding your skin that he’s desperate to bruise and leave his fingerprints on. His fingers curl harshly into the railing while his eyes continue to admire while simultaneously undress you, your body hugged in a very form-admiring bodysuit.
Dropping down low with the girls following suit, your hips move on beat with the music, grinding into the floor. That, of all moves, is when you make the grave mistake in glancing up at a striking pair of blue eyes, dark in their passionate longing and so bright you’re quick to force your eyes away.
But not before you flashed him a toothy smile. A smile that kills him every time. Heat rushes through your veins and rises higher into the surface of your skin, in your core it feels electric with pulsating need, but you carry on with the routine, to save face from what Bucky Barnes did to you. Unbeknownst to you at this moment of what you did to the mob boss, he groans at the tightness surrounding his clothed cock as you rock your hips back and forth, suggestive in your choreographed manner. But so dismissive in how it affects him greatly and his ability to conduct business.
No. You can’t let yourself fall into that sort of mess again. Focus. Rolling onto your back, your back arches so beautifully off the floor, it almost has Bucky gasping. The pointed pink of his tongue’s tip darts out to wet his lips.
Completely and utterly mesmerised by your rhythm, he growls like a feral animal when Steve’s voice interjects his still continuing list of how he plans to ruin you and save you.
Now at the end of your routine, you wave for Torres to cut the music and your shoulders fall heavily with an exerted sigh.
“Good work, girls,” you applaud with your friendly smile, clapping for their efforts. The girls in turn repay your praise with bashful smiles and compliments of your mentorship.
You had this way with people, and especially those under your study, you were kind and playful but remained an air of professionalism to ensure your students or your time wasn’t wasted.
Bucky feels his skin crawl and his heart drop a thousand yards into his stomach. From the lavish watch strapped to his wrist, he inspects the time. End of rehearsal. End of your contract with him.
“Well, they learnt from the best.” Your head turns fast, vision momentarily blurred, there again is that feeling - that spell - he has you under as he saunters down the stairs and towards the stage where you stood, hands pressed idly into your hips.
His tongue runs over his teeth, groaning inwardly as his eyes sink and rise in study of your entire form. He could see you being his queen. You’ve a powerful stance, that much he can see, and you possess a quality that has the attention of anyone and everyone on you. A commanding presence.
“You’re too kind, Mr. Barnes.” Your cheeks redden more. Praise from your clients always makes your heart flutter with adoration and joy. For them to express their gratitude in the ways they do, it’s good to know you have succeeded in your job.
But when Bucky praises you, you become a giddy girl that gushes and yearns to hear more. He sees the way your face shifts to reflect that professionalism, all to hide the reality of what he does to you; what he could do to you if you just gave him the chance.
“I could be much kinder, Doll.” His voice has lowered into a velvety purr, the callous massage of his fingers shoot a blaze of electricity through the thin fabric of your pantyhose and into your skin like ice, a simple touch over your calf, teasing you further as his palm encloses around you as well, sliding up and down gently. Despite your position above him, a sight he’ll never grow tired off, his up-tilted chin reaches level with your stomach. He sees the inner turmoil of conflict flash in your eyes, a battle he’s sure he can win if he plays his cards just right.
“VIP access tonight to start?”
You scoff, shaking your head. But the furrow in your brows betrays your true, raw disappointment. You can’t hide it. Not from him. “I can’t. I have an early flight tomorrow.”
Thanks for reading!
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#female reader#bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky au#bucky barnes#mob bucky x reader#mob boss bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky fic#bucky barnes oneshot#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes x reader
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The Eye of the Hurricane [1] - A Night Out
A.N: Here we go my loves, the first chapter! ❤️ I hope you'll like it, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️
Summary: A night out with an old friend can lead to surprises.
Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don't condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to have a normal life.
Granted that was never in the cards but you liked to pretend from time to time. You knew it was selfish and incredibly dangerous as everyone kept reminding you, yet you didn’t care. After all, it was one of the very few luxuries you couldn’t afford and you were nothing if not determined.
Besides, considering since you were expected not to be a part of the family business, you figured you could enjoy the benefits for the time being.
So far, there was no sign of any bodyguards your father always made sure to put on your tail which meant he was blissfully unaware of where you were or what you were doing. If it were any other time, you would have been surprised by that alone but surprises seemed to be the theme of the week. To be completely honest, you had your doubts when your ex from college had contacted you to say he was moving to the city and wanted to catch up with you. Even though he was one of the very few ex-boyfriends you had broken up with on good terms, he still had an inkling about your family and most of the time, people were too intimidated by that to catch up with you.
With good reason.
But tonight was going to be different. Setting up a casual dinner and drinks night outside your father’s territory was a great first step for in your opinion, for a couple of hours you could pretend you were a normal girl who was having a normal night out with a normal guy.
You even drove your own car to the bar, something you hadn’t done in a long time.
“So yeah, let’s just say that it wasn’t the wisest decision.”
You let out a laugh, tilting your head.
“I don’t know Ethan,” you said. “Taking a girl to a horror themed corn maze? You get an A for effort.”
“In my defense, it was like two weeks after you broke up with me so I wasn’t thinking straight,” he said. “Besides, she said she liked horror movies.”
You hummed. “And how did that go?”
“Terribly,” he pointed out with a grin. “We got lost, and then I had this bright idea of finding the guide myself and we went in different directions, and she got out and I ended up getting even more lost.”
You pressed your palm on your mouth to hide your laugh.
“Then she sent the guide to find me,” he said and you cleared your throat, trying to keep a serious expression.
“You do realize you are the type of person who wouldn’t last an hour in a horror movie, right?”
“People who are trying to survive in horror movies have too much ambition if you ask me,” he said and sipped his drink. “How about you? Any terrible dates since our uh…fairytale romance?”
“We dated for like three months during sophomore year Ethan,” you said with a laugh and he nodded with a grin.
“They were good three months though.”
“Oh please,” you said. “I’m not even sure I could call that dating, I basically had to beg you to spend time with me.”
“We spent a lot of time—”
“In daylight,” you corrected yourself. “You had no problem finding time for me at night.”
He scrunched up his face, then nodded his head.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Yeah I’m…I’m sorry about that. I was an ass.”
“Water under the bridge,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “College is the perfect time for relationship mistakes, and to be honest I was kind of an idiot.”
“Oh come on Y/N,” he said with a chuckle. “I was the idiot. You were perfect, you still are.”
You scoffed.
“Not even close, trust me,” you said and raised your hand at the bartender, motioning for another drink. The bar wasn’t crowded by any means, only another couple by another booth and three men playing pool. A silence fell upon you and Ethan shifted his weight.
“So uh—can I ask you something?”
Your heart skipped a nervous beat but you made sure it didn’t show on your face. “Sure.”
“Was it…” he paused and took a deep breath. “Was it true?”
The waitress brought you your drink and you thanked her, then turned to Ethan again. “Hm?”
“You know, back in college there were all these rumors,” he stammered. “About your family and you never really said— whether they were true or not.”
Ah. Back to that, of course.
You had practiced this calmness way too many times for it to falter even for a moment, and you sipped your drink.
“I totally forgot,” you said. “Remind me what those rumors were?”
“People used to say your father—he and his business partners, I mean,” he said with a nervous laugh. “My friends used to say the city was divided between them.”
“Sounds quite medieval,” you pointed out, leaning back as a couple of men walked in, chattering. Ethan thought for a moment, then scoffed a laugh.
“Right,” he said. “I don’t know why I…don’t mind me. It does sound unreal, I mean—what are the chances that a couple of families rule the entire city, right?”
“I don’t know, I hear it was a thing in the 18th century,” you stated, catching the gaze of the man who had just walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. You eyed him up and down and by the time your gaze fell on the shape of the gun tucked underneath his jacket, you had already straightened your back, your whole body going tense.
“Jesus you should’ve heard the things they said. To be honest with you, I actually believed that whole underworld thing for some time,” Ethan said as the man said something to his friends while your eyes darted around the room, your heartbeat getting faster as you reached for the knife beside your plate.
Great.
This was not your ideal night out alright.
“Now to think about it, it’s not—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence when you threw the knife at one of the men and kicked the chair under Ethan, making him lose his balance before you flipped the table so that you could use it as a cover for you both as soon as the shooting started. The bullets wheezed past you, the couple by the other booth screaming while you pushed Ethan’s head down.
“What the hell is going on?!” he asked as you looked over the table for a second and turned to him, your heart beating in your ears, adrenaline rushing through you so fast that it made your head spin.
“I can explain later, do you have a gun with you?”
“What?!”
“I don’t think I should be repeating myself right now Ethan!” you hissed as shots echoed through the bar and he shook his head.
“No of course not!”
“The one time I ditch the bodyguards,” you grumbled “This is unbelievable…”
“Miss Y/N!” the man’s voice rang over the bar and you gritted your teeth. “The infamous princess. Such a surprise meeting you here, where are your daddy’s men?”
“On their way here I’m guessing but before they get here, I just have one question,” you called out. “Are you guys fucking idiots?”
He tsk tsked.
“That daddy of yours spoiled you too much,” he said. “Has anyone told you that?”
“Yeah, multiple men,” you retorted. “Didn’t end well for them I’ll tell you that.”
“I’d say it looks like it’ll end well for me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure buddy,” you said. “I’ll be surprised if you last the night.”
Several gunshots came from the corners of the bar, and you took cover again but before you could say anything else, you felt someone grab you and pull you upright. You grabbed the gun from him and fired it right at his knee, making him let out a scream of anguish and fall to the floor. The door of the kitchen was kicked open right before more guns were fired in the chaos which made it clear that it wasn’t Steve’s men who were trying to shoot you considering it was his territory, this was his one of many bars and these new people, whoever they were, were shooting at his men as well. It made absolutely zero sense that someone would attack you like this, especially since—
“Everyone stop or the next bullet goes through his head!”
You turned to point the pistol at the owner of the voice but as soon as you did, your heart dropped to your stomach. The man –probably the leader— holding the gun at Ethan’s head smirked and motioned at you.
“Drop the gun sweetheart.”
“Y/N, don’t!” Ethan said, trying to get out of his grip but the man fired the gun through his shoulder, making him yell out in pain and you gritted your teeth. The headlights of a car flashed outside, capturing your attention for a moment before you lowered the gun, someone hastily grabbing it from you. The leader pushed Ethan to one of his friends and stepped closer to you, now aiming the gun at your face but you were way too good at keeping your fear under control in situations like these to flinch at it.
You’d had a lifetime of practice after all.
“So what do you say we take a little trip outside huh?” he asked and you arched a brow.
“What do you say you go fuck yourself?”
He cocked the gun and you rolled your eyes.
“Oh no, a gun,” you deadpanned, checking your fingernails. “Am I supposed to be scared now?”
“This is not your daddy’s territory, girl.”
You scoffed a laugh and lifted your glances from your nails. “Doesn’t matter, you idiot. The truce has been going on for years now, and anyone who breaks it will pay for that mistake with their lives. What is this, your first day on the job?”
“No one taught you not to smart mouth the man holding the gun?”
“No one taught you not to sign your own death sentence?” you asked back and he gave you a dry chuckle, taking a step towards you, still holding the gun.
“Keep talking like that,” he said. “Maybe I’ll take my time with you before handing you over to the boss.”
You opened your mouth to retort but before you could say anything, a deafening shot echoed through the room and blood splattered all over your face and your dress. The leader’s lifeless body dropped to the floor and you wiped at your face with a grimace before you turned to glare at your savior who looked almost amused at your annoyed expression.
“Bucky,” you gritted out and he winked at you, that arrogant grin you knew so well pulling at his lips.
“Hi Charm.”
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#mob! bucky#mob!bucky barnes#mob bucky barnes#mob!bucky barnes x reader#mob boss!bucky#mob bucky barnes x reader
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Devour: ACID
Fandom: MCU
Collection: Devour
Title: ACID
Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x f!Chef!Reader
Word Count: 5.1k
Summary: A month since SALT and three weeks since FAT, your situation with the mob boss who bought your restaurant is still evolving in unexpected ways - including an unexpected episode after work tonight.
Content Warnings: explicit smut, oral: female receiving, analingus: female receiving, vaginal penetration/fucking, some light drinking, mob boss Bucky is kind of dom
Logistical Notes: I had planned for this to punch the ticket for week 10 of my Hot Bucky Summer 2023 collection for the prompt "Long day at work?" and so this is late for the @buckybarnesevents event itself, but I'm a completionist and am marking it off on my personal list for my own satisfaction. Also ticking off the U3: "Kink: Concubine" square of my Bucky Barnes Bingo, Round Five card for @buckybarnesbingo.
Additional Notes: @mlibbydp and @goldylions were so benevolent in doing some beta work on this so HUGE AMOUNTS OF LOVE TO THEM for what they both contributed to the piece and to me personally. This chapter is much longer than the previous two and just as part two evolved their relationship, part three makes some more significant moves and ... I needed the notes on making sure this still felt like Devour. Also... @biteofcherry you might see something interesting in here that's definitely included because of a throwaway comment you made earlier this summer.
↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
When you walked out into the garage, there was a black luxury SUV idling near the exit with Sam Wilson leaned up against it. Seeing you, he slipped his phone into his pocket and pushed off the side of the vehicle.
“Hey, Chef,” he greeted you with a grin.
“Really?” you sighed. “Now?”
He shrugged. “Please?”
“And is that you asking nicely, or him?”
“You know I just do what he says.”
You huffed. “You don’t always do what he says, but he knows you’re the most charming one and I wouldn’t refuse you.”
Sam laughed as he opened the door to the backseat. “Don’t let the charm fool you, honey, if you said no, I’d throw you in the back regardless, it would just be less fun for you.”
You knew that, too, which is why you simply got in without a fuss. Bucky, Sam, the rest of his men? They were all mobsters running mob business, dangerous beneath the surface.
As the door closed behind you, you looked to the front to see who was driving, then clucked your tongue. “He sent both of you?”
Steve smirked. “Buckle up. And of course he sent us. You don’t think he trusts just anyone with his girl, do you?”
Oh. You bit your bottom lip and looked away and out the window, a small warmth stirring in your belly. As inconveniently annoying as this ordeal seemed to you in this moment, there was that piece. Being his. You were starting to feel it.
You had told Bucky that second night in the restaurant that you needed more than gifts and sex.
He had taken your word seriously.
There had been walks in the park, an auction, brunch on his yacht, a gallery opening, a rooftop wine tasting, even a dinner party at Sam’s place where he ended up proposing to his girl. You had enjoyed all of them, but except for the night at Sam’s, the time with Bucky had been last minute – sometimes there was a text, but most times it was him showing up or – like tonight – someone sent to fetch you without notice. He seemed all too aware of your schedule, so none of these instances were logistically inconvenient, but with it happening once more again tonight, you couldn’t help but notice this pattern of behavior was clearly becoming a habit – being summoned. In general, you didn’t mind, you saw that he was demonstrating that he wanted to spend time with you, but if you were his girl, you didn’t want to be treated like one of the droves of people who were at his beck and call and certainly not like a concubine kept solely for his whims.
The SUV slowed and pulled up to the curb of an incredibly unremarkable building that spoke to money for how unremarkable it was – the kind of money that demanded magnificence but privacy. You’d never stepped in a place of residence quite like this before – you hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet, but even in the darkness you already knew.
Both men slipped out of the front seat. Sam opened your door and offered his hand to pull you to the sidewalk. “No frowns needed tonight,” he said.
“Says you.” You didn’t realize you were frowning.
Sam grinned, then headed around to take the driver’s seat just as Steve appeared at your side.
“I’ll walk you up,” Steve gestured for you to enter the building with him.
“This is his place?”
“One of them,” Steve responded.
You took a deep breath and followed him in.
Sharp looking doormen, green marble floors, golden elevators.
Chatting with Steve was always easy, and it was no different on the fifteen-floor ride up to the penthouse at the top of the building. However, you did feel a touch of nerves as this was your first time at Bucky’s place. You weren’t quite sure what to expect but were keen to learn more about this enigma of a man by seeing where he lived.
And there he was, ready to meet you as the doors of the elevator opened, hands in his pockets, tired smile on his face, but his blue eyes dancing with excitement, and that stirred the storm of butterflies immediately in your stomach. He reached out a hand to pull you into him.
“Thanks, Steve,” he said, though he didn’t take his eyes off you.
“Sure thing, Buck.”
Once the elevator closed, Bucky brushed his fingers over your cheek, cradled your head in his hand to tilt your jaw up, and then his lips were on yours, your back pressed up against the wall. Within moments you were breathless.
In the intervening weeks since seeing him at the restaurant he’d also kept his physical contact minimal, only a few light touches, an arm around you when it seemed natural for the occasion, except for two lingering kisses. One of those instances was after a walk in the park when he’d kissed you full on in the afternoon daylight, then deposited you into the car he’d arranged to take you directly to work, where his heated kiss had distracted you throughout your shift. The second was three nights ago, the last time you saw him, and that had been only a ghosting of his lips against your ear, along your jaw, and then a soft kiss pressed to your mouth before withdrawing and leaving you at your door, but it had gotten your whole body humming for him and haunted you as you went to sleep and in your dreams.
This, after so long, so much wanting, was like a wave crashing over you. You moaned softly, you let him pull you in, melting against him, and you nearly let him sweep you away, but then you pressed insistently against his chest.
“James.”
“Yes?” he did move back, but only enough to look into your face fully.
“What is this?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“So, you just summon me?”
You knew he didn’t miss the tenor of agitation in your tone because he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, and you could feel the smirk before he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the juncture at your shoulder. “I was hungry for you,” he said, completely undeterred. And as his lips moved solely along your throat, your core begged you to forget the conversation you were attempting to have.
“Why?” you barely managed to ask.
“You know why.”
“Do I?”
Bucky pulled back again, frowning this time, but you put your hand on his face to soften his reaction. “Steve and Sam said I’m your girl, but…”
“I told you you were mine. Surely over the past few weeks, you can’t doubt that.” His stare into your eyes was steady, straight.
You didn’t doubt him.
You did need to hear those words said just that way though. You didn’t know how much you had needed to hear them.
It gave you the surety to say what you needed to say to him. “I’m not just another girl. No more summoning me, Barnes. I’m not one of your people, I’m not your plaything.” With your hand now resting on his chest, you let your fingers brush soft strokes up and down over his heart. “If you want me, want all of me.”
He hadn’t interrupted your statement. He’d let you finish without argument. You could see the way his face changed, and the shift of the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. He drew you in closer, encircling his arms around your waist. “Oh, I want everything, don’t doubt that.” He brushed his lips softly on your forehead. “I was only waiting for you to want this.”
Your chest tightened at those words, but the next moment you couldn’t think because then he kissed you again.
And that kiss, though brief, was thick with heat, and when he pulled back he said, “I see your point about the summoning. Just know that I was eager to have you around at any opportunity.”
You smiled because he smiled. “I can forgive you for that – I guess I can be a bit irresistible,” you teased. Somehow his confidence made you feel steady enough with him to be direct, to be flirtatious, to simply be around him.
He brought a hand to your cheek again. “I’ll mend my ways, but let’s be honest… a little bit of you likes it – the spontaneity of it.” His smile turned to a truly wolfish grin.
You sighed but rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe a little.”
He stepped away, taking your hand. “Come. You can have a tour later.”
Rather than asking where you were going, you simply let him lead you through the grand apartment. You didn’t take in every detail, but it was big without being too big. Rich and luxurious without being cold or opulent. There were sleek lines, but also elements of warm and comfort folded into the power that was also clearly on display. But your focus was on the way he held your hand and led you through his domain. He had no question that you would follow.
Were you so easily his?
No.
Your mind wasn’t made up.
You weren’t all in, but you weren’t reeling to run away.
He stopped in front of a mahogany door and looked over his shoulder at you. You arched your brow.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
“Alright.” And you did.
He opened it, and you let him lead you inside, through a room, clearly walking you past some furniture. You heard the sound of a fire in a fireplace, then you heard another door opening, and he ushered you in front of him and through that door. “Take your time,” he said softly, lips against your ear. “I’ll be waiting.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, and then he was gone, shutting the door behind you.
You opened your eyes to the sight of a large jade green-tiled shower enclosed with glass and four gleaming gold showerheads. Turning around, you couldn’t help a soft giggle falling from your lips. The lavish bathroom was sheer perfection. Showering after your shifts at the restaurant was ritual for you. You toed off your shoes and began peeling off your clothes. Off to the side of the palatial shower, there was a gorgeous clawfoot tub, and next to that a plush navy settee with what looked like some silky things set out for you. After inspecting the knobs and heads of the shower, you got them running, adjusting them to the perfect water temperature easily, and stepped under the streams, a sigh falling immediately from your lips.
One of the shelves was stocked with some of the skin and haircare products you used, some you hadn’t but certainly knew the name and reputation of (but hadn’t indulged in for yourself), and the other shelf was stocked with men’s products. It reminded you of the significance of where you were – in his home – and the element of intimacy it evoked, being naked where he had been and would frequently be again. Where he likely would be naked with you. You bit your lip. You pulled down the bottle of his shower gel, popped the top open, and inhaled. You hated how much you already loved that smell.
No, you didn’t.
You inhaled deeply again, then set it back on the shelf.
After that, you set to reveling in the flow of the water over your body, and got to washing, unsure of the time, only focused on the smooth feel of the soap and textures over your skin, feeling more and more relaxed, and ultimately refreshed and clean.
Once you had shut off all four showerheads, you reached for towels more plush than any you had ever used in your life and dried yourself off before wrapping the large bath sheet around your torso. You padded over to the settee to discover a short black silk robe waiting for you.
And nothing else.
You shook your head but grinned. “Audacious bastard,” you whispered.
But you didn’t bother with anything else.
At the vanity there were more hair, face, and body care products and tools clearly stocked for you – again some familiar and some you’d only dreamed of, none of this really a shock given your experience with this man. You weren’t certain how long you’d taken in the shower, having lost track of time, but here you suddenly did find yourself trying to take more time, a small fluttering of nerves in your stomach, because though he'd had his way with you in the kitchen of the restaurant and discreetly pulled an orgasm from you at the table in the dining room, this would be different.
Tonight, your body would be his, no restrictions. There was no worry for privacy, no limited amount of time.
There were also emotions now.
You had set the terms – that you needed to be more than a body to him – and he’d met them, courting the rest of you these past weeks, and putting the physical on the back burner.
He had made his intentions for tonight expressly clear.
And you wanted him, too.
But you were still nervous.
When you put your hand on the doorknob, you closed your eyes for a moment, taking one deep breath to steady yourself. Then you stepped out and into the next room, which – to no surprise – was a grand and spacious bedroom. Bucky was sitting on a couch in front of the fireplace you’d heard earlier, but immediately set a book aside and stood when he heard you. You were happy – and feeling a little more heat in your core – to see he was out of his earlier clothes and down to only a pair of silk pajama bottoms.
“How was your shower?” he asked, standing up and beckoning you over.
“The shower was glorious. You’re a bit wicked to only leave me a robe, though, aren’t you?”
He placed a kiss to your forehead and motioned to get comfortable on the couch while he moved over to a small bar cart nearby to get you a drink. He shot a smug over his shoulder. “I plan to get lucky.”
You snorted. “You brought me here late at night, kissed me like you did earlier, sent me to shower, left me only a very slinky silk robe to wear, and then greet me again looking like this,” you gesture at him, “fixing me a drink, and you call that ‘planning to get lucky?’”
He shrugged, his smug grin only growing. “Do you think there’s any way in hell I’d be where I am if I hadn’t strategically hedged my bets? Absolutely I plan to get lucky. I make sure I don’t give luck any reason not to go my way.”
You didn’t need alcohol. He was beyond intoxicating. He had been from that first night.
“And I’m assuming I don’t get a choice of drink tonight, either?”
He looked at you again. “I let you choose a lot of things, but I want you to try this. I think you’ll like it.”
You bit your lip and tucked your legs up under you, draping an arm over the back of the couch and facing him as well as where he would return to sit once finished mixing your drinks. His back was to you now, and you were not surprised he seemed to want to keep his preparation a mystery at least for a few more moments.
“Long day at work?”
“Work?” You weren’t expecting such a normal inquiry about it.
“Yes,” he chuckled, “work, my beautiful, talented chef.”
He handed you a wine glass with clear liquids over ice, garnished with fresh mint and slices of lemon, while he had what looked to be a whiskey smash in his other hand. You took an experimental sip as he sat close to you, angling his body to face you, resting his arm over the back of the couch as well. The citrus and mint blended with something floral and…
You swished the contents of your drink in your glass before taking another sip. It was bright and refreshing and not quite the evening night cap you would have expected.
He watched your face, gaging your assessment as he sipped his own drink.
“What is this?” you asked.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes,” you countered, “but what is it, James?”
Your name on his lips ticked the corner up in a half smile. “It’s a Hugo cocktail.”
“It’s not a predictable choice for the middle of the night.”
“It wasn’t my intention to bring you hear and tuck you in straight away.”
You laughed. “There’s no question what your intentions were. We established that.”
He tilted his head slightly. “You’re not picking up on all my intentions.”
Your brow furrowed. Then you let out a little yip of surprise as he pulled you closer, you clutching your wine glass to keep from spilling the drink.
He had already positioned himself close to you, but this was even more intimate. You were nearly in his lap, and he did pull your legs up to drape across his thighs.
“Now tell me about your day.”
“Oh, you were serious.”
His hand settled on one of your bare thighs, just next to your knee.
“If I didn’t want all of you, I would’ve fucked you in the foyer and let you go home. I want this, too. Now talk.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but you smiled. This really was him – demanding but not inflexible, and certainly giving you more than you expected.
So, you did talk, just as you had been really starting to the more he had brought you around to spend the time with him these last weeks. However, there was no getting around that this was more intimate. No others around, no distractions, no functionality of a thing you were doing together, only the two of you.
His line of inquiry was genuine, and he listened intently.
Almost too intently.
You were his singular fixation, and you knew he was thinking of nothing but you as you spoke.
And his fingers brushed idly over your thigh as you conversed.
The soft, repetitive motion wasn’t distracting at first, but it wasn’t long before it was an overwhelming tease of what wasn’t happening.
The physical touch you hadn’t experienced at his hand in weeks.
He was asking questions about how some of the new members of your kitchen staff were integrating, and all you wanted him to do was glide that hand down between your thighs.
You sipped at your drink, and as you continued to talk, you let your other hand drift to rest on his arm still draped over the back of the couch, and your fingers traced along a vein on his forearm. Although it was difficult not to let your eyes drop to his bare chest, you kept his gaze. If he was going to continue talking like this proximity and the lack of clothing between you both wasn’t affecting him, you were determined to match him.
Finally, he moved his hand from your thigh, but it went straight to your waist to curl just above your hip. “Kiss me,” he said.
You leaned forward and pressed your lips hungrily to his without hesitation. He set his drink to the side, then grabbed yours to do the same. With both your hands free, neither of you wasted another moment. Your hands went to his neck while one of his hands traveled slowly up your spine, the other holding your face. As impatient as you were for him, both of you kissed to savor, but there was no rush to it. His lips moved against yours, your tongues explored together, tracing, memorizing, exploring. It wasn’t enough, the tenor moving from savoring to consuming, and you shifted, moving into his lap.
He broke off the kiss briefly, turning his head to the side, but his left hand remained firmly against your back, keeping you close, and you rested your forehead against his temple. His other hand reached to the side table, and he plucked one of the slices of lemon and some mint from your drink. Curious, you lifted your head away. He brought the mint leaf to your mouth first, pressing it along your bottom lip. Then he pinched the fruit against your lip. The mint played with the acid of the citrus deliciously as he kissed you again, this time each of you nipping and licking intermittently through the kisses. Your hands explored the broad planes of his chest now, and his hands raked up and down your sides, thumbs skimming over the side swells of your breasts.
Keen for more, you pressed your body closer to him, pushing your core directly against the hardness of his cock. Rocking your hips, you drew a debauched moan from him that made you swell with pride and made your pussy ache even more for him. You needed him, each moment driving that need exponentially now.
The thick arms and broad chest you were getting to explore freely for the first time held only some of the rippling muscles that made it seemingly easy to push up off the couch while still holding you close with one arm, and it made a broken whine escape the back of your throat. You wrapped your legs around his torso, and his other hand squeezed and held your ass against him as he moved you from the seating area across the room to the bed. He tossed you down on the mattress, then pushed the silky robe – which was naturally already askew – off your body and flung it away. You pushed yourself back a bit more on the bed, and he was only a half second behind crawling up after you.
He pushed your legs wide open, and dove immediately for your dripping cunt. You laughed, a little flushed, but also more than ready for him to bury his face between your thighs. You let your head fall back against the soft bedding, closing your eyes. Then you yelped as there was a sharp slap to your pussy instead of his lips on your folds. You jerked up to look at him, and the devilish grin on his face, the darkening of his eyes made your heart stutter.
“Don’t laugh, Chef, I told you I was hungry for you. Keep your eyes on me,” he said.
You took a deep breath, leaned back on your elbows, and gave him a solemn nod.
He pressed kisses slowly along your inner thigh, his deep blue eyes locked on yours. The fluttering in your stomach rose steadily, your pussy desperate for his attention. When he planted his lips in the crease of your thigh, he left his mouth there. A broken whimper leapt from your throat, and you pushed your hips up.
He pushed your hips back down with one of his large hands and moved his mouth the opposite direction and bit at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, making you yelp.
“Please,” you murmured.
“Eager for me?”
“Yes,” you answered without hesitation.
“Good.”
And then he worshiped your cunt, kissing it with as much fervor as he had kissed your mouth, and you moaned openly, no worries over anyone but him hearing you here. You didn’t look away, completely captivated because this was also a new level of intimacy that you felt both ready and unprepared for. Receiving oral sex from other partners had never felt so purposeful. This man in this moment was so avid in the way he was pleasing you, making you watch him, you brain was having a hard time recalling if sex with anyone before him had ever been so intense. You didn’t think it had – that first night when he’d demanded it from you in the kitchen, the next time he’d coaxed you into a few moments of pleasure in the dining room, and now inviting you here to have you without restraint – each encounter had been unlike anything before.
The pleasure was overwhelming as his lips and tongue licked, sucked, flicked your clit, delved into your folds, and he kept a keen eye on your every reaction. You began to feel lightheaded with the mounting waves of bliss, your toes curling, breaths coming in short gasps until your head fell back because you simply couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t do anything but feel, ready to fall over the edge because of him again.
But then he pulled his face away, jerking you back from that edge of ecstasy and you would have whined, but he was already manhandling your hips to flip you over. One of his rough palms smoothed slowly and firmly up your spine, applying delicious pressure, but you still felt the lack from the orgasm he’d dangled then withdrawn. “James,” you moaned. “James, please.”
He drew his palm slowly back down your spine. “You’ll have me, Chef, don’t doubt that.”
You whined again, but he pushed your thighs apart and slotted himself again between them, holding you splayed open for him with his broad shoulders. It was a little uncomfortable, stretching your legs, but you settled and breathed through it anticipating what was coming next.
His tongue teased at your clit for a moment, then slowly licked up and between your folds to dive into your cunt, lapping inside, and you shivered. But then one of his hands pushed at your ass cheek and his tongue continued moving up, and you gasped and tried to move away when the tip of his tongue teased your tight, puckered hole.
“Easy,” he said softly but firmly, his other hand moving beneath you and hooking at the juncture of your thigh to pull your hips back flush against him. He pressed a kiss to your round ass cheek.
“I’ve never,” you admitted enough, he knew what you meant. He kissed the same spot on your ass cheek, but then he shifted, and you felt him moving up over your back, his body pressing lightly against you until he was up at your shoulder. He pressed a kiss there, and then looked at you.
“Then I won’t give you more than my tongue tonight, but you know I’ll make you feel good, don’t you?”
You nodded.
He smiled, then left the ghost of a kiss to your temple and slipped back down behind you.
Resuming his exact same positioning, his left hand curling under to anchor at the juncture of your leg, his right pressing you open to expose your ass, you pressed your cheek into the pillow and took a deep breath. You reached your left hand down to meet his, and he twined his fingers reassuringly with yours as they sought him. Then his mouth pressed in, and his tongue darted out, swiping over the tight ring of muscle.
“Just relax and feel,” he instructed.
You concentrated on breathing and then the new sensation. Unexpected. Then a different kind of pressure, then pleasure. It wasn’t awful as had always been insinuated. It was debauched more than anything else, and he soon had you moaning and panting and wriggling back against his tongue which alternated between lapping at the hole and teasing in and out. It was when you pushed hard back against him that he pressed a kiss again there and pulled back.
“I know what you like.”
It wasn’t a brag; it was a statement of possession that sent a shiver through your body. Because he was right, and you couldn’t deny that.
“Now come here,” he said, pulling you by your hips up to kneel, presenting for him. “Such a pretty folds.” His fingers circled your clit, then slipped briefly inside your cunt, drawing a happy gasp from you.
He grabbed his thick member and brushed the tip up and down over your sensitive parts a few times as you pushed up on your elbows, your back arched in a beautiful bow for him. When you looked over your shoulder at him, he finally sunk his cock into you. His hips pushed forward against you slowly until he was completely buried inside you, filling you, pressing so intimately into you. Fully sheathed, he stayed there for a moment, and he ran his hands over your hips and your lower back, caressing, relishing in the fill. He pulled back slowly, but only a couple of inches, then pushed back in, clearly wanting to relish in this for a moment. You had no desire to rush him either.
When his hands gripped your hips, you dropped your forehead to rest your forearm on the mattress, and then he began to fuck you, building a steady rhythm. He built up bit by bit, and you both let words and sounds fall out of your mouths as the physical feelings increased in intensity. Having been so close twice, when he finally moved a hand to rub expert circles into your throbbing clit, your body quickly responded in releasing your orgasm, and your spasming walls pulled him right along with you, and he came with a shout over your moans, a stuttered thrust, and then he continued a few more pushes, his hot spend coating your walls.
He wrapped an arm around your stomach and pressed kisses into your back, and you curled up into him with a hum of contentment.
When he pulled out, he reached over to the bedside table to retrieve a waiting damp hand towel – you shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d prepared to this detail – and then cleaned you up and then him before tossing it away. He stroked your back once more, then scooped you to your side, and pulled your naked and spent body to him so he could spoon up against you. You put your arm over his, and he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.
“Stay?” he murmured simply into your ear.
This you didn’t answer immediately. You let your chest fill and empty with a few breaths, weighing your answer between your head and your heart. But neither of them fought to leave.
“Okay,” you finally breathed.
He settled in even closer, then reached for the sheets to pull up over the both of you. “I told you that first night that you would warm my bed.”
“Don’t be smug,” you protested.
“I’m not,” he insisted, and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, “I’m only pleased I’ve finally got you here.”
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