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charliemwrites · 3 months

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Part 4 of Mafia!Price

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia!au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

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purple-babygirl · 2 months

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my bucky?

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x f!reader (reader is little in the very beginning)

Word count: 7,390

Summary: Bucky's angel finally sees the hidden side of him.

Warnings: details of violence, kidnapping, getting shot, physical abuse by kidnappers, slapping, too much crying, angst

A/N: to all the nonnies that came to me once and asked "what if angel saw bucky beating someone up?" "what if angel gets kidnapped?", this is for you💜 i hope you have a good time with this one, loves x💜

Whenever he’d think of her, he’d think of jasmines. Soft, fragrant, pure-looking, fragile, beautiful jasmines. Like jasmines, she released her sweet perfume engulfed by the darkness of his night. Only he got to bask in her aroma. And like a jasmine in autumn, he’d fallen for her evergreen soul and he’d fallen hard.

Bucky knew she saw him through a pink lens. She ate up his lies like candy and although he felt bad, he knew it was for the best. He could visibly see her running out the door whenever he’d imagine someone opening her eyes to how cruel he actually was. It was selfish, but it was easier for him and safer for her this way. Better for both of them.

Luck wasn’t exactly his best friend though.

Bucky would never forget the look in her innocent, teary eyes as she watched him literally beat the life out of a man with all his might. He knew it was fairly stupid of him to do it in the back of his own garage, right next to his house where she was peacefully getting ready to call it a night. But he just couldn’t hold back when he saw the guy’s dumb face when his men brought him in.

“Miss?” She found Roseanne by the door, looking more nervous than usual.

She was shocked, no, terrified at the scene she couldn’t take her eyes away from. How and why was she even here in the first place?

Daddy said he’d be back for story time but he hasn’t been back yet. What was taking him so long?

She couldn’t fall asleep if his voice wasn’t lolling her to sleep. She couldn’t fall asleep if it wasn’t in his arms. Life without him just didn’t make sense anymore.

She got out of bed, slipped in her fluffy cat slippers and went on a little quest to find him. Bucky was always happy to see her so he’d forgive her for getting out of bed where he’d expected her to wait.

“Roseanne, have you seen my Bucky?” she asked with a smile.

“I think he’s busy right now, miss. You better wait in your room where it’s warm,” Roseanne tried to tempt her, using the cold as a good reason why she shouldn’t go outside where Bucky was.

The young woman looked distressed, like she was scared of something.

“What’s wrong, Roseanne? Is daddy okay?” she questioned the poor maid, her smile leaving her face.

“Yes, miss. Don’t worry. He’s just a little busy but he’ll be here soon.”

“Is he in the office?”

“I— I don’t know, miss. I think he is,” Roseanne lied.

She tilted her head suspiciously before running to the office to check it out, leaving Roseanne’s pleads for her to get back to the bedroom behind.

It seemed even more suspicious now that Bucky was nowhere to be seen in his office. It didn’t feel right and she had to find Bucky and make sure he was okay. Bucky always knew how to calm all her worries. He knew what to do and what to say.

Bucky protects her and is here for her.

But wait a minute, she didn’t hear his car leave. And if the car didn’t leave then Daddy was certainly in the house, she just missed him while looking.

She roamed the whole mansion, up and down, checking every room twice and she still couldn’t find her daddy.

Her mind was getting cloudier and she was getting more scared. Did daddy leave? Where would he go without letting her know that he’d be leaving? Why didn’t he kiss her forehead goodnight before leaving?

She made her way outside the main door and took sure steps to the large garage, once again taking no regard of Roseanne’s begging, confident in her smart train of thought.

When she arrived at the garage though, the pants she heard startled her to a halt as she ducked behind the black Range Rover.

Was that really Bucky? Her Bucky? Beating up a man to the point where his features weren’t recognizable anymore? That wasn’t possible. Her daddy was a sweetheart. He was the gentlest man she’s ever met and he wouldn’t hurt anyone like that. She knew he was feared because of his work, but he couldn’t kill anyone. Could he?

She peeked around and fell silent as a rock. The sight before her made her feel cold, leaving her poor mind perplexed.

On the first look, she couldn’t fathom what she was looking at. She wanted to look away. She did. But she couldn’t will her head to turn even just a little.

“How stupid do you have to be to think I wouldn’t know you were sent here to hurt my girl?”

A stronger pang hit her little heart when she realized this was happening because of her.

No, this was no bad dream though she’d hoped with all her heart that it was.

She’d made Daddy promise that he wouldn’t hurt anybody on her behalf. He’d promised to choose forgiveness if it was an option. It didn’t make any sense.

Was she too sleepy that she was seeing things? Did her little mind fall asleep without a story anyway and she was having a nightmare?

Sam had seen her first, wide eyes tearing up at the sight of her man smashing another’s face with his fist. He’d tried to tell Bucky, but it was too late. She’d already seen it all.

Those fingers that have ever so tenderly glided across her cheeks time and time again were hidden behind brass knuckles, covered in someone’s blood. That jaw that has only ever tensed from smiling too much around her was clenched, making him look scarier than she could’ve ever imagined him to be. His eyebrows were furrowed and his breaths heavy as he repeatedly and ruthlessly punched the man on the chair.

Her fear intensified when she’d recognized the beaten up man as their newest driver. She remembered him trying to repeatedly ask her if she wanted to go get ice cream with him when Bucky wasn’t home. She also remembered saying no like she was taught. She remembered Bucky promising to choose forgiveness if it was an option again and she saw him break his promise.

“Bucky, enough!” Sam pulled him away from the tied up guy, head nodding to the black vehicle.

Her head went dizzy when she thought of all the men she’d complained to Bucky about since they’d started their relationship. Have they all faced the same fate?

Who was this heaving, bloody-fisted beast before her? Did she ever know Bucky at all? Was he ever truthful about anything he’d told her or was it all just a big lie? How could she trust him with herself ever again? Who was her daddy really?

The walls around Bucky collapsed and he almost collapsed with them when he saw her face. She was there and she’d seen everything. His angel saw it all. His angel was scared. She was scared of him.

“Angeră?”

Her legs no longer wanted to hold her up once she heard his hoarse voice. The air was out of her lungs as she took slow steps back until she pressed herself to one of the grey walls behind her. The stuffie in her hands fell to the ground and with it her heart.

She wanted to run, but her cold body wouldn’t budge. Maybe if she could go back to the house right now, listen to Roseanne, stay in bed, and pretend this never happened, Bucky would miraculously come back with a perfectly healed, clean hand and they would peacefully have a cuddling session while his loving voice told her a story.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she begged, her voice above a whisper as she cowered away from him.

Bucky carefully walked closer, visibly watching her hands tremble. He raised his clean hand to caress her cheek like he always would when she needed him to calm her down.

He wasn’t expecting her to lean into his touch like she was used to, but it still shot daggers to his heart when she flinched, closing her eyes in fear and letting out the tiniest whimper.

“Angel, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Bucky’s broken voice had her heart clenching as she saw him trying to muster up a smile.

“Stay away from me,” she said in panic when he tried to take another step towards her.

“Angeră—”

“Please, Bucky, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t call him daddy or even her Bucky. She couldn’t.

“Baby, let me—”

She shook her head, running away from a shattered Bucky, almost tripping on her own feet.

“Go, we’ll take care of him,” Sam told him, patting his shoulder.

He watched her run as if she was escaping a wild lion, terrified and fearing for her life.

Bucky slammed his fist into the concrete wall where his love once leaned before slipping the brass knuckles off his probably broken fingers and hearing them clank on the ground. He rested both palms on the wall and let his head fall down as he breathed hard.

“Dragă, nu! Te rog, (love, no please)” Bucky begged, his hands grabbing her forearms to stop her from throwing more of her things into the suitcase.

Bucky ran like a mad man on the way to their house. He had no idea what he was going to say or how he was going to justify what she’d just witnessed him do.

She called him Bucky with glossed over eyes. She was bordering on little and he just gave her the trauma of her life. He had no answers to any possible question she might rightfully throw at him. Bucky only knew that he couldn’t lose her; she was the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He busted through the front door and ran up the stairs only to be met with her frantically packing her things, fat tears soaking her face as she hiccupped out sobs.

“Please let me leave.” Her voice trembled and more tears left her eyes. His right hand had dried blood all over it and it made her skin crawl.

“Please don’t,” Bucky pleaded again, on the verge of crying himself.

“I’m really scared. Please don’t make me stay here,” she begged Bucky, trying to slip out of his grip.

“Angel, please believe me. I will never hurt you,” Bucky swore, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Angel, of course I love you! Please just stay and listen to me, baby.” Tears rolled down Bucky’s cheeks as he took a dress out of her hands before she could pack it.

“Did you ever really love me? Would you really never hurt me? Was anything you ever told me the truth?” Her voice was way too innocent as the questions left her trembling lips.

She didn’t even sound like she was blaming Bucky, she just sounded confused. Disappointed. Hurt.

“I wanna leave. Please let me leave,” she repeated, crying harder as she tried not to let herself crumble down on the floor of their bedroom.

“Angel, please don’t say that.” Bucky shook his head, holding onto her writs for dear life, “I can’t live without you, love. I can’t.”

She looked up at him and the look she gave him let him know she wasn’t little anymore.

Bucky despised himself for making her feel and think that way, “angel—”

“Why did you ever take me? Why did you bring me here?” She asked, the reproach hurting her too, “I didn’t know what love was before you. I trusted you. I trusted you with my heart, Bucky.”

She was saying everything that came to her mind, unable to keep her thoughts inside or else it felt like they might suffocate her. She was mad at herself for letting herself trust and love when she shouldn’t have.

“Are you used to doing this to people? Do you kill people, Bucky?” Her voice broke as she asked, already fearing the answer.

“Angel, please.”

“No, answer me.” Her eyebrows furrowed in sadness, anxious of the reply she was about to receive.

Bucky closed his eyes, not wanting to see her face when he told her his truth, “yes.”

“Yes.” Bucky nodded, hot tears leaving his closed eyes.

Her breath hitched at his answer, making more tears leave his eyes.

“D-Did you do this to the other guys I complained about before, too?”

“Did you kill them?” Her tone fell with her heart.

Bucky only swallowed, going dead silent at her question.

“Oh my god.” She cried, her knees almost giving out as she tried to get her arms free from his grip.

“No, no, angel, I only drove them out of town. They’re alive.” He assured her, leaving out the details about the probable permanent disabilities some of them left town with.

“Why?” She sobbed, her shoulders hurting from squirming in his grasp with no avail.

“They were bothering you.”

“So this makes it okay to kidnap them and beat them up?!” She screamed, her tears never drying up.

“I wanted to protect you,” Bucky whispered, his heart dropping at the realization of how his angel must see him now.

“Protect me from you then and let me go.” Her words shot daggers right into the mafia boss’ chest.

“I can’t believe I loved you so much.” She whispered, mostly to herself, lamenting her foolish, trusting heart.

“Angel, I can’t. You know I can’t.” He knew she was right, but he couldn’t let her leave.

She was his whole world; his life and everything good in it.

“Loved?” Bucky could hear his heart shattering.

“Loved,” she replied despite herself, knowing too well that she was lying.

Bucky finally let her arms go after her confirmation. He knew that if he tried to hold her back now she would only end up hating him. He would rather have her leave him than hate him. He wouldn’t be able to take it.

“I’ll tell the driver to get the car ready so he could take you to your grandma’s,” Bucky told her without looking up, wiping away his tears. For now.

She didn’t reply, and only continued shoving clothes into the bag.

“I just want you to know that I’ll always be here whenever you need me. I will always be yours, angel. Even if you’re no longer mine. I love you and I will love you until the day I die.”

But all of this was nothing compared to the fear that shot up her spine when she heard gunshots making contact with the car she was inside, forcing the driver to stop abruptly.

Bucky’s last words had her sobbing even harder as she fell to her knees the moment he left her alone in the room.

She didn’t want to leave him and she never saw a day like this one coming, but she knew it was only right that she did. They were different from the beginning and she was wrong to let herself live in a daydream for too long. She had no place in Bucky’s world.

The drive back to her grandma’s house was torture. The pain of being fooled could only be overruled by the pain of fearing the only man she’s ever loved. She couldn’t ignore the feeling that she was leaving a piece of her behind in the mansion that the car just drove away from. She knew that piece was her heart and she knew that she was most likely never going to get it back. It will forever remain with Bucky.

Her tears kept coming as she silently wept in the backseat.

Pathetic fallacy was at its highest and the skies were sobbing with her. It was cold and the roads were muddy, thunder hitting every now and then, making trees shudder where they were rooted.

She cried more knowing Bucky would no longer be there to hold her through thunderstorms.

The man and the guard next to him got out their own guns but it was too late for them to do anything as another couple of bullets were shot, going right through their heads. The driver fell lifeless, face first on the driving wheel and she felt her heart stop with his.

“Let me go for your own good,” she said, trying to keep her tone confident and her pain veiled.

Before she could even think of a route to run in, a bag was put over her head, her screams futile as she got violently dragged to another vehicle before it all went completely dark with a hit to the back of her head.

“I thought we were past that shit, babygirl. Three days didn’t teach you who’s in charge yet?” Lloyd Hansen, Bucky’s biggest enemy, asked her with a provocative smile.

She was in absolute agony.

She let oud a loud, pained scream, desperately trying to pull her arm from underneath his huge shoe.

They’d untied her an hour ago after she claimed she needed the bathroom, a guard on her tail as he led her through the abandoned building.

Once inside the toilet, she managed to pick up the upper part of the toilet seat. She gained the guard’s attention with a scream, going down on his head with the heavy ceramic piece as soon as he opened the door to check on her.

She managed to run as far as the hallway of the floor she was in before a very angry Lloyd grabbed her. She surprised him with a harsh slap across the face, taking the chance to run again when he froze for a second.

Lloyd got even angrier, stretching his leg and knocking one of her feet off the ground, making her fall over. He walked over her crawling body and evilly stepped on her right wrist.

“I can’t wait to kill you,” Lloyd said, not taking his foot off before he heard a snap and a loud screech from her.

Lloyd got hold of her hair, dragging her all the way back to the room where she was previously tied up.

He tied her to the same chair again, only this time one arm got the ropes while the other was left to redden and swell.

Now she was here, on the same chair, throwing empty threats as she’s almost given up hope that Bucky might find her.

“Aww, did you hear that, boys? Little slut right here is worried for our good,” Lloyd mocked her, laughter erupting and filling the room in response.

“You’re not getting out of here, babygirl,” he spat, his voice laced with venom, “this is where you die.”

“Let me go. I won’t say it again.” Her voice almost shivered with her heart at the end of her warning.

She was scared, and in so much pain, but she couldn’t let it show. She wouldn't even cry and was sweating like crazy from the ache in her dangling wrist. She was Bucky Barnes’ girl.

“You’re making the demands now? Not even a “please” to persuade me?” Lloyd moved his face closer to hers, slowly pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear with a smirk, “or do I have to heat you a bottle to get to meet your polite side?”

She felt her face go hot as her eyes filled with tears and she couldn’t stop herself from spitting in the bastard’s face, “fuck you”.

Next thing she knew was his rough hand slapping down hard on her cheek, making her go dizzy. Blood trickled out of her nose and down to her lips right after and she couldn’t hold back her tears this time.

She was tired. Terrified. She needed Bucky.

“Your filthy mouth isn’t anything short of your boyfriend’s, but don’t worry, if you don’t know how to be respectful to your masters I have ways to teach you, and believe me, I can’t wait to start your lessons.” Hansen smirked at her wrist before spitting back at her and leaving with everyone else.

She cried harder than she has ever before, tears and blood mixing. Her body was shivering and her arms aching from being tied up in the most uncomfortable position and smashed down under Lloyd’s boot.

There was no way out for here, was there?

She knew she was done for and she didn’t have any last wishes except for getting to tell Bucky that she loved him and that she will never stop loving him one last time.

She couldn’t even pay her pain or blood any attention when all she could think about was Bucky and how he would have never let anything like that happen to her.

She remembered his soft smile that only she got to meet. The way he’d lean forward to engulf her in a hug momentarily warmed her before the iciness of the empty room made her shiver again.

She didn’t dare linger on Bucky, however.

It’s been exactly 3 days and 21 hours since his angel left him and he still couldn’t believe it.

She left him. She left and now she was here in some old factory under some asshole’s mercy. She couldn’t escape the situation she was in no matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t give her mind any kind of relief. There was none. Before she realized, her head was falling forward and she was getting a temporary break from reality.

“Bucky, are you o—” Sam cut himself off when his sight landed on his best friend’s face.

Bucky’s eyes were red with yet to be shed tears, again.

His car never reached her grandma’s because his men were murdered on the way. His angel was no where to be found and neither was Bucky’s will to live.

He kept telling himself that it wasn’t true, that she was at work; that she would eventually come back and sleep in his arms again.

However, she didn’t even call. Didn’t even look at his multiple texts. She really was missing and Bucky couldn’t face it. Between denial and heart wrenching pain, he buried himself 9 feet under.

He’s looked everywhere, asked everyone, but still couldn’t find her. It was as if she’s disappeared, turned to air.

Bucky has deserted their bedroom ever since she walked out of the mansion, the bed still as messy as she left it after she dragged the sheets down with her packed bag. Every time Bucky would enter the room he would see her leaving him, so he’d stopped. That couldn’t be his last memory of her. He slept on the couch in his office now, if at all.

And soon enough, the Bucky he used to be when she was around was dead and another angrier, more violent and very impatient Bucky had replaced him. He was always mad, at everyone and everything. And he was drinking every night, sitting on his bar for as long as he could, just to get himself hammered enough to fall in a deep unconsciousness where he didn’t have her scared eyes invading his dreams.

Sam was seriously worried for him, but there was nothing he could do; no advice he could offer. Nothing would bring that Bucky back as long as his angel was gone.

Bucky’s wallowing and Sam’s overthinking were interrupted when Bucky’s phone rang, vibrating on the ceramic floor. Bucky quickly crawled over to it, hardly believing his eyes when he saw her name in the place of the caller ID.

“Angeră?” he answered, his voice hoarse from staying silent for too long.

“Awww, you call her angel?” the voice on the other side mocked.

“Who the fuck is this?” Bucky asked, standing up slowly as his anger and worry forced him to sober up.

“You know too damn well who this is,” Lloyd answered, his smile evident in his tone as he knew he had Bucky by the throat.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked immediately.

“Tied up somewhere cold.”

“I swear on my life, if you touch her—”

“Relax, she can take a few scratches,” he replied, chuckling as if it was a joke.

“You son of a bitch!” Bucky shouted, losing his mind at the mere image of his angel being hurt.

“I’d watch my mouth if I were you, Barnes,” he snarled confidently.

“What do you want?” Bucky asked through his teeth, just wanting to get to his girl as quickly as possible.

“Let me hear her voice.”

“No,” Lloyd chuckled.

“I wanna destroy you.” Hansen laughed.

“Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.” Bucky tried his best not to sound desperate but it was obvious that he was begging for his girl’s safety.

“That’s where you’re wrong, B. She has everything to do with this.” Lloyd walked into the room where she was with a smug smile.

“Let her go.” please

“If you sound so distraught just because I’d hogged her for a couple of days, imagine how you’ll be when I erase her off the face of the earth,” Hansen said, laughing at the thought of hurting Bucky this bad.

Her face toughened up at the realization that it was Bucky on the phone.

“If you do as much as touch a hair on her head, I’m gonna kill you and everyone you know,” Bucky promised, his heart hammering in his chest as he hastily started moving.

“I might’ve broken a bone or two, but that’s only because she was a bad girl.”

“You’re dead, Hansen. Fucking dead!” Bucky promised, throwing the bottle he was drinking from across the room.

“We’ll be waiting with popcorn.” He hung up on Bucky, laughing.

“He’s gonna kill you.” She smiled once he hung up, making Lloyd grab her hair.

She hissed, trying not to show she was in pain.

“Not if I kill him first, angeră.” Lloyd spat, throwing her head forward before leaving the room.

She was horrified at the thought of anything bad happening to Bucky, but she willed her heart to trust in him. She had no time to ponder but she was actually proud of the fact that Bucky could so easily end this awful, evil man and she couldn’t wait for him to do just that.

Still, she waited for him. Something inside of her told her Bucky would never abandon her, not even to death. So she waited. Waited with the longing of all the lovers that ever were until longing had exhausted her.

It was like a slow motion dream. Doors being kicked down, guns being fired and her Bucky entering the room with a man’s body held in his left fist by the neck.

Instead, Bucky found Hansen and smacked him so hard with his metal hand that a tooth flew out. He slapped him again and his nose was bleeding. They made eye contact one more time and she noticed the difference for the first time. That wasn’t Bucky. It wasn’t her Bucky. His eyes still softened for her but the hint of revenge in them was more dominant.

He doesn’t even talk; doesn’t negotiate. He doesn’t even ask for her to be released. He doesn’t need to.

His men were getting everything done. His only mission was to look for her now. His eyes met hers but he didn’t start walking towards her like she’d expected he would.

She thought she would be afraid meeting Bucky again after what she’d witnessed him do, but she actually didn’t. Not even a tiny bit.

She was rather happy, the feeling that she was safe again warming up her body so much that she’d started sobbing.

It was like no matter how long they were away from each other, they were still together, never estranged from one another.

Bucky was on his 40th slap/punch on the man’s bloody face when he noticed her crying. He temporarily threw the man’s tired body on the ground and rushed to his girl.

He kneeled before her shaking body, wanting nothing but to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

And she was.

She looked up and could still see the coldness in his eyes despite hers being blurred by tears.

“I missed you. Is my Bucky okay?” She asked, her voice drained but not scared like Bucky had feared and expected.

“Let’s get you home, angeră,” he replied, saving his answer for now as he noticed the finger marks on her cheek.

She nodded desperately, her tied hand reaching for him despite being behind her back.

“Stop right there,” Lloyd said, crocking his gun at Bucky.

“Bucky,” she whimpered, eyes glued to her man, her anchor.

“E în regulă, angera meu, (it’s okay, my angel)" Bucky replied, getting closer to her and sticking to her side.

“No, it’s not. He’s lying to you. Just like he’s lied to you about everything else,” the man chuckled.

“Shut up,” she whispered, trying to calm down her breathing.

“Give it up, Hansen. I beat you. Again and for the last time. You’re done.” Bucky racked the slide of his gun.

“He never loved you. Do you even know who he is most of the time?” Lloyd continued, not willing to give up until Bucky was reduced to nothing before him.

“Shut up,” she repeated, wishing her hands were free so that she could cover her ears with them.

“Do you have any idea about the other side of this man you gave yourself to you poor little thin—”

“Shut up!” She shouted with all her might, “don’t speak about him like that.”

“Do you even know what you’re defending?” Hansen yelled at her with a crazy, bloody smile on his face.

“I know,” she answered calmly, “I know everything.”

Bucky looked at her in surprise, not believing what he just heard. There was no way she knew. How would she know? How would she choose to stay if she actually knew?

“Oh so you know about frosty over here?” Hansen smirked, pointing to his head.

“That’s enough, Hansen,” Bucky warned, barely controlling himself.

“I do,” she answered once more, her answer shocking Bucky yet again.

“Angel?”

“It’s okay, Bucky. I promise.” She sincerely promised, making it hard for Bucky not to tear up in the middle of the room.

“Aww, how sweet—” Hansen cooed and in a second 3 of Bucky’s bullets were in his head, neck and chest before he could say anything else.

She gasped, closing her eyes and turning her face away from the body as it collapsed on the floor with a thud.

She didn’t notice that Hansen had landed a shot at Bucky before he collapsed and Bucky didn’t even flinch as a bullet literally made it through his right shoulder. He didn’t feel the pain. He didn’t care about anything but his angel.

She was the only thing he could see and hear. Her wounds were his pain more than his own.

Bucky wordlessly kneeled down and untied her quickly. His gaze was glued to her wrists for a second before he rubbed the one that wasn’t swollen with his smoother thumb.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, referring to her other wrist.

“I'm gonna need a doctor to look at it.” Was all she gave him for an answer.

He silently opened his arms for her and she threw herself in them without an ounce of hesitation, crying more now that she was home.

She was so scared she wouldn’t get to feel like this again. She let herself let go. She then closed her eyes and finally succumbed to the cozy darkness now that she was safe.

Instead, Roseanne looked at her with a teary smile, “welcome back, miss.”

She lost all sense of consciousness that she didn’t hear Bucky shoot the man’s dead body a fourth and a fifth time with her in his arms as he took another look at her wrists.

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in Bucky’s bed, but Bucky wasn’t by her side.

“Roseanne, I missed you so much,” she replied, unable to stop her own tears.

“Thank goodness you’re okay,” Roseanne said, breaking the hug to let her rest her back.

She invited Roseanne for a hug with her good arm as she noticed the other was in what looked like a cast.

Lloyd had broken her wrist.

“Mr. Barnes is in his office,” she told her while adjusting the pillow behind her when she noticed her eyes roaming the spacious room.

“Is he mad?” she asked, more tears gathering in her tired eyes.

“At himself, maybe.” Roseanne shrugged politely.

“Please help me go to him, Roseanne.”

“One more thing though.” Roseanne chew on her lip.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t know what he would’ve done with himself if something had happened to her and he kept blaming himself as he sat there with his right arm in a sling.

“Mr. Barnes has been shot.”

Bucky didn’t care to look when the door to his office opened, not knowing that she was awake and too busy wiping his tears of regret.

He’s been like this since he got her home and in his bed again. His tears were unstoppable now that he saw the results of his lifestyle on the one girl he chose and held closest to his heart. In fact, he cried more every time he took a look at her angelic figure tiredly sleeping in his large bed as the doctor patched up her broken wrist.

She was so small, so pure and so so good for this world. Her face was fainter and the spark was gone and he was sure Lloyd didn’t feed her. The fading finger marks she had on her cheek, the rope burns around her wrists and ankles and the cast around her forearm slashed new wounds at his heart.

“Bucky,” she called out faintly, her head and body still aching a little, heart dropping when she saw him with his arm hanging, “are you okay?”

He stood up and helped her sit in his chair, not sure if it was okay for him to carry her and sit her on his desk like he usually would.

He hastily wiped his eyes with his hand to look at his baby.

“Hi, angel,” he tried to say with a smile but his voice cracked as another tear escaped down his red cheek.

She surprised him by using his chair as a step to get on top of his desk, pointing to the chair for him to sit back down.

Bucky was on eye level with the marks on her ankles as she settled her bare feet on his lap.

What was he going to say now that she was awake? And most importantly, what was she going to say?

“My Bucky,” she could recognize the difference between this man and the man who started her rescue right away.

Bucky was stunned to see she could see it despite everything. He didn’t want her to ever find out about that side of him and it killed him even more that she caught the difference. How on earth did she find something like this out?

“All yours, angel.” He tried to compose himself, for her.

She couldn’t bare seeing him like this. It was like she’s forgotten about everything that happened before this very moment and all she could do was sit up and hold his face to lovingly wipe his sorrows away with her left hand.

It was enough time away from Bucky.

“I’m okay, Bucky. I’m okay,” she tried to reassure him, only making him cry harder as the dam broke when she rubbed his shoulder.

“Iarta-ma, iubita mea. Te rog. Iarta-ma. (forgive me, my love. Please, forgive me)" He sobbed, moving his lips to the palms of her hands to leave wet kisses all over the reddened skin.

“I’m okay, I swear,” she repeated, not knowing what to do or say.

“I forgive you. Please don’t cry; we’re good,” she said it to him in the kindest tone like it was the easiest thing to say.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance to. Please, love,” Bucky cried like a child in her lap.

No, he couldn’t even remember a time when he cried like this as a child despite all that he’d gone through. He didn’t care though. He was going to do whatever it took for his angel’s forgiveness. He disappointed her, broke her heart and risked her life. Bucky was going to beg until the end of time if he could.

Bucky shook his head, crying harder, “no, you’re good. You’re too good to me, angel. Too good. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. Never did.”

It sent a knife to his heart that she still sincerely called him her Bucky after everything she’s been through just because he was in her life; because he was selfish enough to bring her into his without a care.

He was still beating himself up over it. And how could he not when everything terrible that’s ever happened to her had happened because of him? He traumatized her more than anyone ever could have and he’s gotten her hurt time and time again.

This girl who’s made him feel like he could stand against the whole world all by himself with no fear just because she called him her lover. This girl who taught him loyalty, kindness and love and was now teaching him forgiveness. This girl was sitting before him with a broken wrist and heart telling him not to worry about it.

“Don’t say that, please. I’m alive right now thanks to you, my Bucky.” Her own tears rolled down her cheeks before she could stop them.

She loved him more than anything and wished she could make him see that. Oh how she was dying to make him see how safe and loved he made her feel.

“You mean you were taken and hurt thanks to me.” Bucky casted his eyes down, too ashamed to even look at her marked face.

“Bucky—”

“I get it if you still wanna leave me. And I will let you. I would never make you do anything you don't want. I just want you to know that I never lied to you about my love for you. You’ve been and still are the realist thing in my life, angel. Everything I said and did was true. I adore you.”

“Bucky, I—”

“I know it’s selfish to choose to speak about this now, but I’m afraid you’d leave before I get to tell you how in love with you I really am,” he sniffled, wiping his eyes again in vain before looking up at her, “I would die without you. Your love owns me, heart and soul. But.. if leaving me is what you choose.. and if leaving me will make you safe, I will accept it. I just need you to know that I’ve never lied to you. Angel, you are my whole life. You’re my one and only. I belong to you. I’m yours and I will die yours.”

She was speechless, too taken aback to stop herself from crying harder. Bucky’s never opened up to her about his feelings before. Not like this.

“Bucky, I love you,” she managed to whisper before he cut her off again. Before she could tell him that she felt the same way, that she was all his and will forever be his, that only him ruled over her heart.

“You don’t have to say that, angel—”

“Let me speak,” she demanded, her palm cupping his wet cheek as she grabbed him a tissue from his desk.

He nodded, biting his lip and bracing himself for the harshest ‘but’, preparing to get his heart ripped out of his chest.

“I don’t wanna leave you,” was the first thing she could get herself to say, desperately wanting to soothe his thumping heart.

Bucky’s eyes filled with more tears because he knew he didn’t deserve her.

“I forgive you. I want to tolerate this dangerous life because it lets me have you; be with you, which is the only place I ever wanna be.” She took a deep breath, her own tears continuing to fall as she wiped his.

“Baby,” Bucky whispers, hating to see her tears yet again.

“I knew you weren’t the nicest guy to others and I knew your line of business wasn’t the safest either. I just— it freaked me out when I actually got to see you inside of it. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

Bucky lowered his head in shame again.

“In my head, especially when little, you’re incapable of hurting. In my eyes, you’re safety, Bucky. You’re home.” She brought his eyes back to hers with a hand on his cheek.

“I’m sorry, love,” Bucky was quick to apologize but she shook her head in reply.

“It might take me some time to get used to everything now that I know everything. But it didn’t affect my love for you, Bucky. Not one bit. I lied. I was so scared I would die without getting to tell you that. I still loved you more than ever even in that moment with your fist against another man’s cheek, and I guess that scared me even more. Because it was unlike the me I thought I knew. But this me, right here, is madly in love with you and she doesn’t care about anything other than being by your side for ever.”

“Angel,” Bucky sobbed, holding her hand to his lips, leaving appreciative, wet kisses on her palm, “you won’t regret it, baby, I promise. This is the last time you get hurt. I would die before I let anything like this ever happen to you again.”

“I know, and I trust you, my Bucky. If you’d give me time and if you’ll have me, I wanna be with you every moment of my life, forever.” She couldn’t not throw herself inside his arms, needing the closeness to reassure her this was real.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, holding her on his lap as tight as he possibly could.

“Lucky me,” she whispered in his shoulder.

Bucky felt himself coming alive again at the smell of jasmines in her hair and the feel of her warm body in his hold. She was a piece missing from him and now that she was back, he wasn’t going to waste a second without worshiping the steps she walked.

“I know I might need a while, but that doesn’t change anything. I still love you with my whole heart, Bucky,” she reassured, squeezing him to her even more.

“Take all the time you need, angel. I’ll be right here. I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

“Promise me something though.”

“Anything.”

“No more killing people on my behalf.”

“What if they have a gun pointed at you?”

“Okay, only in that case then because it’s self-defense.”

“I promise.” Bucky smiled, sliding her hair behind her ear before kissing her forehead.

She pressed her forehead to his with a smile, “thank you.”

“We’re injury buddies now,” she joked when they pull away making Bucky laugh out loud for the first time in days.

“Does it hurt, angel?”

"Mine doesn't hurt, you?" He kissed her covered wrist gently.

"Does it hurt?"

They both asked at the same time, making each other laugh.

“Not as much anymore,” she replies, not wanting to remember how much it hurt when she was tied up in the cold room.

“Let’s eat so you could take your pain meds.” Bucky offered her his metal hand and she took it with her good one with a content smile.

Everything was going to be okay again. She knew it. Her hand was back in Bucky's and there was nothing their love wouldn't be able to pass. This might not be the Bucky she got in a relationship with, but it was the Bucky she wanted and was going to continue it with.

He was still and was always going to be her bucky.

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810 notes · View notes

oneforthemunny · 1 month

Note

Could we please have some angst with mafia Eddie? Maybe it looks like he is paying too much attention to another lady! You mention this to him and he gets angry at your accusations. He doesn’t realise what his actions are doing to you! Not until the other lady makes a move and he realises you were right all along!

"Mr. Munson," Your ears perked at the sound, a purr coming from behind the two of you.

You turned, brows lifting in surprise at the cocktail waitress behind you. It wasn't the too tight dress that upset you. No, it was the look in her eyes. Narrowed with a sultry determination, lips spread in a nearly wolfish smile.

"Back so soon?" She hummed, placing a black napkin down on the table.

Eddie hummed in response, blowing his cigar smoke the other way. She dipped low, bending forward to place his napkin in front of him. Your lips pursed, cheeks heating, glaring at Eddie, who still seemed unbothered, reading over the menu without a single glance up at the desperate waitress.

"Yeah, I think we're ready to order." Eddie muttered, closing the menu to look across the booth at you. He was startled by your hard stare, brows knitting in confusion. "Are you not ready, baby?"

"Yes." You hissed, manicured nails digging into the leather of the menu.

Eddie blinked, scanning your face with uncertainty. "Ok, I want a Manhattan."

"So the usual?" She giggled playfully, lashes batting towards him. "With 1792?"

"Full proof." Eddie nodded, looking at you.

The waitress scribbled it down, turning back to you, face falling, eyes not meeting yours in boredom. "And for you?" Her tone fell flat.

You blinked, pausing to cut your eyes to Eddie. He didn't react, brows pulling in a furrowed look of confusion that had your teeth gritting. "I'll have an Aviation."

"Any preference on gin?" She hummed, eyes sliding over your frame with a bored expression.

"Broker's is fine." You snap the menu closed, tossing it towards Eddie's in the middle of the table.

"You wanted Pâté, right, baby?" Eddie hummed gently towards you. Maybe you were hungry? You got huffy when you hadn't eaten.

The waitress looked over at you with a lifted brow, lips pressed in annoyance. Your own eyes narrowed, in what you hoped looked like a threat and not insecurity.

"We'll just get that. And the shrimp cocktail. Just whatever looks good." Eddie waved her off, knee bouncing gently under the table, eyes still locked on you.

The waitress turned back to Eddie, a smile reappearing to her face. "I'll get that right in for you, Mr. Munson." She purred, turning away with a swinging step.

"Thanks, Tammy." Eddie muttered, leaning forward on the table.

You watched the waitress sashay away, an exaggerated swing in her hips that had you rolling your eyes, ready to tear the girl's hair out.

"What's the matter with you?" Eddie muttered lowly.

You turned towards him, lips pursed in displeasure. "Tammy?" You huff.

Eddie blinked. "The waitress?"

You scoffed, nose turning up in the air, refusing to look at him. Eddie hated when you did that, ignoring him entirely- oh, it drove him insane. Which was exactly why you did it.

"Hey, don't- what's wrong? Why're you mad?" Eddie pressed, reaching for your arm across the table. Thankful this was a private room, he felt a little safer to show affection.

You didn't reply, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, yanking your arm away from his instead, crossing them over your chest.

Eddie huffed, flinging his cigar into the tray. He did a scan of the room, sliding out of the booth to slide next to you, back to the door- something he never did. He was nearly neurotic about sitting where he could see who was coming in.

"What's goin' on? Look at me, c'mon." Eddie pulled you towards him, hand snaking around your waist.

His hand snaking under your jaw, pulling you towards him. "Baby," Eddie cooed lowly, a tone of voice he only used in the complete privacy of your relationship, when no one else was around. "What's wrong?"

Your lips twisted, glaring at him. Before you could answer, the swoosh of the door was opening, Eddie's hand on his glock, protectively pushing you behind him, ready for any unwanted action.

Instead, it was Tammy, back with your drinks.

"Oh," She quipped, a smile that felt more like a sneer across her face. "You switched sides on me."

Eddie didn't laugh, didn't even acknowledge her other than a head nod of thanks when she set the drink down. He felt you tense when she leaned forward, breasts nearly touching Eddie's shoulder to place your drink in front of you. Your nails dug into his slacks.

"Let me know whenever you're ready for another, Mr. Munson. Those appetizers should be out soon." Tammy grinned down at Eddie.

Eddie turned to you carefully, waiting until he heard the door click softly behind her. "What's wrong?"

"Are you serious?" You scoffed. Eddie blinked at you, brows creasing in confusion. "Are you going to just fuck her in front of me next?"

"What?" Eddie spat. "Who?"

"Tammy?" You sneered her name.

"The waitress?" Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Are you serious? C'mon."

"Don't you dare lie to me, Eddie. She's all over you." You snap, eyes narrowing at him furiously.

"No, she's not." Eddie blinked at you. "Baby, what are you talking about?"

"You know her name," You counted off on your fingers. "She's all over you, practically had her tits in your face, flirting with you right in front of me-"

"-She is not flirting." Eddie rolled his eyes. "She's just being nice. She knows I leave a good tip."

"Oh, I'm sure she does." You sneer, anger bubbling furiously inside of you.

"Stop acting like this, alright? It's not funny." Eddie shook his head, sliding out the booth to the other side. "She always waits on me here. She's good, and I tip her good, that's all. Don't piss me off sayin' that shit."

You glare at him, eyes narrowed when he sips his drink slowly. You want to smack it out of his hands, maybe throw yours at him- glass and all. Instead, you turn back towards the wall, ignoring him entirely.

The dinner is tense. Eddie's exasperated huffs begging you to look at him, they slowly turn into growling demands. You don't touch your drink, letting the ice melt the vibrant lavender down to a watery lilac. Any hunger is replaced with rage, a fire burning in the pit of your stomach.

Eddie calls for the check after thirty minutes, nerves shot, a dull headache brewing behind his eyes.

"Done already? You usually stay longer than that." Tammy quips in feigned surprise masking her disappointment.

You decide you've had enough, snatching your purse, sliding out of the booth when she leaves to get the check. "I'll meet you outside." You growl.

"Hey," Eddie booms, commanding, stern. It would normally have you stopping in your tracks, falling right into submission. "Get back here."

You ignore him, hand slapping the door to push it open, stomping away with fury. Eddie's teeth grit, fishing out the contents of his jacket pocket- wallet, lighter, cigarette.

Lighting the cigarette, he took a slow drag, letting the burn of the nicotine settle into his throat and lungs. Thumbing through his wallet, he pulled out four big bills, slapping them on the table, sliding out with a huff.

The door swung open as he was adjusting his jacket. "Oh," Tammy giggled sillily, eyes sliding to your empty space. "Here's this for you."

Eddie nodded towards the table. "On there for you. Keep the change." He muttered around the cigarette hanging from his lips, side stepping to get around her.

She blocked him, a countering step to stop him. "I'm sorry, I just, I think you need to look at the bill, Mr. Munson." She gave a wide smile.

Eddie huffed, reaching back for his wallet, blowing smoke the other direction. "How much is it?"

Tammy hesitated, opening the wallet. Eddie's eyes flickered over, turning fully to read the bill. There on the bottom, a phone number scribbled next to 'You're always a pleasure. I'd love to see you more away from here. Call me, Tammy', a tiny heart next to her name.

Eddie blinked, heart dropping in his chest. Tammy shrugged sweetly. "I just want to make sure I can always service you to the best of my abilities, Mr. Munson." She purred, eyes batting seductively.

Eddie blinked again, not moving, ash from his cigarette falling on his shoe. His stomach turned, how harshly he'd talked to you, brushed you off when clearly you were right. How had he missed this? Looked over this?

Love will blind ya, boy. Wayne's voice from years ago rang through his ears. He'd always thought his uncle was dramatic. He was much stronger than that. Maybe that was true, until he met you.

"I get off at two, if you'd like to-" Eddie didn't let her finish her sentence, stomping away and towards the door.

His hands shook in fury, bursting into Anthony's office in the back.

You waited outside, arms wrapped around yourself in the chill of the night. It helped to calm your fury, until Eddie swung the door back open with matching anger. A man scurrying behind him, nervously.

"Eddie- Mr. Munson, I-I am sorry. I will-she's done. She's fired." He stammered.

Your interest piqued, Eddie flicking the cigarette on the ground, jaw set furiously, a hand wrapping around your waist guiding you off the curb towards the Bugatti. He opened the door for you, letting you slip inside before shutting it.

You could hear the muffled shouting from outside, turning to look at Eddie, who jammed a rage filled finger towards the man who flinched.

"We will make it up to you, Mr. Munson, I-I swear it-"

"-You fucking better." Eddie sneered, hand on his door. "You better figure somethin' out, Tony. You hear me?"

Eddie slung the door open, falling with a grunt into his seat. Barely starting the car before he was peeling furiously off the curb.

His apology didn't come until later that night, when you both had calmed. In the dark, serenity of your bedroom, Eddie whispering sweetly to you, cooing apologies that you pouted at, giving in slowly with every soft kiss and even softer words.

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oizysian · 2 months

Text

Part I: Looking Out For You

I Set the World on Fire masterlist

Warnings: blood, death, murder, sex

Word count: 4.3k

About Five Years Ago

She completely surrounded me. She was on top of me, around me, inside me, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. She was the love of my life and we were going to start a family together soon - or at least that’s what I imagined. My imagination ran wild especially when she was fucking me so lovingly, so deep and so hard that I could almost feel her inside of my mind, completely consuming me.

Her strap filled me up completely, stretching me out so impossibly far that I struggled to take her fully.

“You can take it, detka, I know you can.” She whispered in my ear, pressing her lips to my neck and letting her teeth graze against the sensitive skin there.

“Unh, W-Wanda,” I moaned softly, wrapping my arms around her tightly and pulling her close, my legs already linked around her hips and holding her as close as humanly possible. “S’too much.”

Her lips went from my neck, upwards towards my own lips, where she wasted no time in swallowing my whimpering moans as she kissed me. She pounded into me, the small, rickety bed creaking with her powerful thrusts. She knew what I needed, and when and how I needed it. She knew how to make my body sing when she touched me, and I trusted her with every fiber of my being.

“Sis!” Pietro’s voice boomed from behind the closed door, his fist pounding upon the old wood. “We’ve got a job! Finish up or I’ll finish it for you!”

“Shut up, idiot!” She called back to him, her fists balled up beside either side of my head, gripping the sheets as she fucked me, hard and fast.

“Wanda,” I whined, slightly put off by the fact that Pietro had heard and interrupted us. “Kiss me.”

She looked down into my eyes and smiled, bringing her head down and capturing my lips with her own in a passionate kiss. This was everything I needed in life. If we had our own place, it would’ve been ideal, but having her, like this, was everything I ever wanted.

“I’m going to cum, detka. Are you close?”

I nodded and she pressed her forehead against my own as she balanced herself on her elbow, bringing her other arm down so she could play with my clit. She rubbed tight circles along my throbbing bundle of nerves, sending jolts of electricity throughout my body. I felt my orgasm approaching as she continued to touch me with her magical fingers, my brows knitting together as the coil within me tightened and then suddenly released. I dug my nails into her shoulders as I came on her cock, her own high rushing through her as she finished pounding me into the bed, panting softly against my neck as she laid down on top of me, still inside me.

“You did so good for me, malyshka.” She said as she peppered kisses all along my jaw, grabbing my face with her clean hand and pulling me towards her, where she captured my lips once more in a searing kiss.

“Let’s go, Wanda! We don’t have all day!” Pietro called out again and I saw her roll her eyes at his words and at his impatience.

“Alright, alright.” She grumbled softly, kissing me again before sliding herself out of me. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Don’t go fucking again! We don’t have the time.”

“Shut the fuck up, Piet!” She finally yelled at him as she got up off the bed, undoing the harness around her hips and sliding it off.

I laid where she left me, my own cum dripping down my thighs and ruining the sheets beneath me. She leaned over the bed to kiss me again, smiling at my blissed out state.

“I wish I could stay and clean you up.” She ran her fingers down my cheek to my clavicle, then towards my breasts where she played with my nipple until it was a hardened bud under her touch.

“I wish you could too.” I whispered back to her, saddened by the fact that she had to leave so soon.

“I’ll be back before you know it, okay? This job should be pretty quick.” She leaned down again to press a kiss to my forehead and then walked over to the closet to get her clothes out.

I propped myself up on my elbows and watched her, her bare ass and back on display for me as she picked out her outfit.

“What do you have to do?”

“Same old, same old.” She said as she pulled out her usual black attire, looking over it before draping the dark shirt and jeans over a nearby chair. “We go in, I talk, Pietro takes, and we leave.”

My brow furrowed at her words. I didn’t really like the fact that she went on these ‘jobs’ with her brother. I worried for both of them, but she was my girlfriend, and I didn’t want her out there doing these things for a living. It was dangerous and they were playing games with people that wouldn’t think twice to have them hurt or worse.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” I whispered softly, my eyes leaving her body to look at the floor, which had suddenly become very interesting.

She sighed, facing me and coming to sit on the edge of the bed, her hand resting upon my bare thigh.

“I know, detka. One day it won’t be like this, I promise.”

She gave me a small smile and a squeeze before getting up again, grabbing her clothes and heading into the bathroom to get dressed.

I sighed softly, grabbing the blankets from the foot of the bed and wrapping them around me as I laid down again. I’d clean the sheets before Wanda got home so she’d have fresh sheets to sleep on tonight. Right now, I just couldn’t bring myself to move.

She came out a few moments later, dressed in her black clothing with her dark makeup on and her signature rings. She smiled at me and walked back over to the bed once more, pressing another kiss to my forehead before walking out of the room. I could hear Pietro bitching at her as they made their way to the entrance of our small apartment, and I kept my eyes on the closed bedroom door until I heard the front door shut and lock behind them. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding when I registered the fact that I was alone. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I laid in our shared bed, wondering if this would be the last time I saw her.

It was hours later when I heard the door creak open and I realized I had fallen asleep. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and saw Wanda at the foot of the bed with a large bag.

“Wanda?” I questioned softly, sitting up against the headboard and watching as she moved around to my side of the bed in the darkness.

She flicked on the lights and the room was flooded with brightness. I squinted and looked up at her smiling face.

“Detka,” she lifted the sack up and went to flip it over, spilling its contents all over the bed. “We did it.”

I watched in disbelief as money poured out of the burlap sack, hundreds upon hundreds fell on top of my lap.

“Oh my god, Wanda.” I said, grabbing handfuls of the cash, unable to believe it was real. “Where’d you get all of this?”

“The job we just pulled.” She sat next to me, still smiling. “We just nabbed a whole bunch of drugs from some guys trying to pull one over on the family we’ve been working for.” Her smile widened. “We can finally get out of here, detka, just me and you.”

“What about Piet?” I asked, still stunned by the amount of money currently sitting on our bed.

“What about him? He got his cut. Now he can go whoring around in his own place.”

I stared at her a moment before leaping into her arms, happy tears streaking down my cheeks as I held her. This was the big break that we had been looking forward to. She let out a chuckle as she grabbed hold of me, lifting me up and kissing me fiercely.

“We’re gonna have everything we ever wanted now, malyshka. Everything you ever dreamed of having - you’ll have it.”

I smiled against her lips, looking into her deep green eyes and falling in love all over again.

With their brand new funding and newfound respect, Wanda and Pietro started their own little family, building their empire from the ground up. They recruited their old friends from the orphanage, Dimitri and Leo, and of course they had made other acquaintances while doing various jobs for various people, so they were able to make quick connections and establish themselves in record time. Everything seemed to be going well for them; they were finally in a position of power, working for and making a name for themselves. But, Pietro was a bit of a hothead and easily made enemies.

She got the call at around two in the morning. We had been sleeping, her body cocooned around my own, her fingers entwined with mine as her work phone went off.

“Ignore it,” I whispered into the darkness, and she pressed a kiss to my shoulder as she rolled over, searching for the annoying device. “Baby, c’mon,” I whined. “It’s cold without you.”

“I know, but this could be important.” She said as she grabbed the phone from under our clothes that had been thrown on the floor and sat down next to me, patting my ass gently. “Hello?”

I rarely listened in on her conversations, but after a few minutes, she was eerily quiet. I tried to hear the person on the other line, but heard nothing. Curiosity got the best of me and I rolled over to see Wanda staring off into space, her phone discarded on her lap, still open, and tears cascading down her cheeks.

“Baby,” I was instantly alert, sitting up and taking hold of her hand. “Baby, what happened?”

She inhaled shakily before finally letting her eyes fall to mine, her tears showing no signs of stopping.

“Piet. H-he’s …” She swallowed roughly. “They found him .. dead.” She let out a gut wrenching sob and fell into my arms.

I held her as she cried, unable to even fathom what she had said. Pietro was dead? I knew I couldn’t ask questions because she probably had no answers and was in no condition to answer them anyway, so I just held her. Tears fell from my own eyes as we sat in the darkness of our apartment, her cries tearing me apart. He was all she had and now she had nothing left from Sokovia.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them!” She screamed, gripping my arms as I held her. “I’m gonna kill them all!”

“Wanda, shh.” I pressed a kiss to her head and pulled her against me, trying my hardest to comfort her even though I knew there would be no comfort in anything I said or did from now on.

“Pietro … I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sobbed, practically falling limp in my arms.

She had all but collapsed, and eventually her cries subsided. She lay motionless in my embrace, her soft sniffles the only sound in our room. I pet her hair with a shaky hand, glad that she was finally calm, but not knowing what to do from here on out. Life would be different without Pietro - for both of us.

It was weeks of random breakdowns and outbursts before she came home late one night, covered in blood.

“Wanda!” I cried at the sight of her, frightened that the blood had been hers. “My god, what happened?”

“Pietro.” She said softly as I approached her, taking her face in my hands. “I finally found the one that … did it.”

“Wanda …” I didn’t know what I could possibly say to her.

Her eyes finally met mine and she looked haunted, changed like a war veteran and it sent a chill down my spine. I held her face in my hands for a moment longer before throwing myself into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. What a foolish thing she had done, going after the one that killed Pietro; what a dangerous, foolish thing. It took her a moment to respond, but she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me tightly, and I felt her take a deep breath against me.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” I said softly, realizing we were now both covered in some dead man’s blood.

I pulled away from her and took hold of her hand, walking her slowly towards the bathroom. I was afraid that any sudden movements would set her off, and god only knew what she would do in the condition she was in.

Inside the bathroom, I undressed her and started the bath, regulating the water so she could get in and get cleaned up. Once she was situated inside the warmth of the water, I took her clothes and put them in a garbage bag. I would dispose of them tomorrow. I returned to the bathroom to find the water a reddish hue, and her face stained with streaks of tears.

“My love,” I knelt down next to the tub, grabbing the washcloth off the edge of the tub and getting it wet. “I’m gonna take care of you. It’s all going to be okay.”

She sniffled softly and nodded as I put a dollop of soap on the cloth and began washing her bloody, dirty, body. She had no visible wounds that I could see, which I was thankful for, but she was suffering in a way that I had no way of healing. I didn’t know what to do for her other than just be there and take care of her the best I could. I feared it wouldn’t be enough.

Present Day

“Dimitri told me he noticed someone following you around the shops the other day.” Wanda said as we ate breakfast together.

I shrugged slightly.

“I didn’t really notice. I always have someone following me.”

She hummed softly as she sipped her coffee, her eyes falling to the newspaper on the table.

“You should probably pay attention.”

“It’s not my job.” I snapped and she narrowed her eyes at me, clearly annoyed.

“No, but it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“That’s what you have Dimitri and Leo following me around for.” I grumbled. “I can’t even go to the bathroom in peace when I’m out.”

“Would you rather they not be there and something happening to you?”

My eyes fell to my untouched plate of food and I shook my head.

“No.” I said under my breath.

“What was that?”

“No.” I repeated, finally lifting my head to look at her.

She was sitting across from me, smug as all hell, knowing that I was wrong in complaining about being followed by her guards. After Pietro was killed, things changed, and if I ever went out without her, which was often, I had to be followed by one of them. She didn’t take risks like she used to. She controlled everyone and everything. If it couldn’t be controlled, she would break it until it could be or she would get rid of it.

“Don’t go out for a while.” She put her cup down and stood from her seat. “I trust Dimitri. If he says someone was following you, someone was following you.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, leaning my head on my hand and sighing at her words. I was just another thing for her to control nowadays. How I wished for the days when we were young, when we were carefree and wild. Before … well, before Pietro died.

No, he didn’t die. He was murdered. Which then led Wanda to becoming a murderer herself. God knows how many people she had killed or killed herself over the years to get where she was now. At first it bothered me; I worried for her safety and for her sanity, but now I realized that it was just a part of her. She kept her hands clean nowadays, but she still was responsible for the disappearances of quite a few people.

“What am I supposed to do if I can’t go out?” I asked, sadness in my voice.

“Well,” she started, fixing her outfit. “You can come into my office and suck my cock while I make some calls.”

“That’s all you want me for - for your pleasure.”

“Do you think I can feel it when you suck off my plastic dick?” She snapped. “No, after you get it nice and wet I plan on fucking you in all of your holes until I’m satisfied.” She let out a huff. “Or until you’re completely blissed out.”

I didn’t understand her desire to fuck me until I couldn’t think anymore. But I know she liked it when I was being controlled by her, my pleasure, my pain completely in her hands. Rarely did she get herself off when she was in one of those moods, focusing completely on me. Maybe there was a part of her that still loved me and wanted me to feel pleasure and love from her, or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. Wanda was a cruel woman, and whatever her reasons were to do what she did were purely selfish, whether or not I knew what she was getting out of it.

She turned her back on me and began walking off towards her office when I finally spoke again.

“I’m leaving.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, but kept her back to me.

“I just told you -”

“No, Wanda,” I interrupted her. “I’m leaving you.”

She was silent and I held my breath as the silence between us filled the room. I could almost hear her heavy breaths as she turned to face me, her green eyes dark and filled with rage.

“You’re what?” Her voice was dangerous and low.

“I’m … leaving you.”

Her steely look cracked and she smiled, letting out a cold laugh.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

I gritted my teeth, my jaw clenching as I stared back at her. I didn’t think leaving would be easy, as a matter of fact, I expected her to put up a fight, but I wouldn’t back down.

“Yes I am. I’m going to stay in our old apartment for a while. I know you still rent it, I’m not stupid.”

Hurt flashed across her features and I realized I might have gone too far bringing up our old place. I knew that she kept it because it was the last place she and Pietro lived together, and even though it was vacant, she kept up with utilities and maintenance so it would be in livable condition.

“Fine.” She snarled at me, waving me off. “Go.”

I let out the breath I was holding and watched as she stormed off. Wanda was never one to chase anything, especially in her current position of power, so I knew I wouldn’t be any different. She expected me to come crawling back to her - but I wouldn’t.

I also knew that she would be sending either Dimitri or Leo to stalk me while I spent time away from her. She would never truly let me go, not really.

I got up from the table, pushing my seat out and rushing off towards our shared room. Despite how tense and angry we both became, we stayed near each other, sleeping together, even making love, if you could call it that.

I made it to our room, throwing together my clothes and finding a suitcase in one of the closets, I got ready to leave. I knew that I didn’t really want to leave her. I just wanted her to need me, to miss me, to love me. But she never would. Never again.

Tears flowed down my cheeks as I packed, stuffing everything in the suitcase haphazardly, just wanting to get out of there. This house was no longer a home, it was hell.

I rushed down the stairs, dragging my suitcase behind me and approached the front doors, where Leo was already waiting. With a defeated sigh, I nodded and he took my bag, leading me out to the car that was already ready to go. She was predictable.

I sat in silence as Leo drove us back to the old neighborhood, tears still flowing freely as we made our way there. The drive was quick, maybe forty minutes with no traffic, and I couldn’t wait to get inside the apartment and just sleep. We parked out front and Leo took my suitcase out of the trunk, lugging it up the stairs after me. When we made it to the front door, I realized I didn’t have the key to get in, so I stepped aside and, surprise surprise, Leo had it. We entered wordlessly, and I was damn near speechless at the sight of the place. It was like it had been frozen in time. All of Pietro’s things were still here, untouched, and even some of our old things were here.

“Wanda …” Leo started as he placed the suitcase down on the ground near the couch. “She really does care about you, you know.”

I sighed sadly, knowing that if Leo could see it, it must’ve been obvious. But clearly not obvious enough to Wanda herself.

“Yeah,” I sniffled, walking over to the fridge and seeing that it was completely empty. “Guess we gotta go get some food.”

“I’ll go.” He said, making his way towards the door. “She, uh, gave me a list of things you like.”

My heart fluttered at his words. She had really done that? Of course she had. Control freak Wanda. I sighed and nodded at his words, watching wordlessly as he left. I grabbed the suitcase from beside the couch and dragged it into our old bedroom. I was hit with memories as I entered the room, the familiar smell of us flooding my senses. I brought the suitcase to the closet and started unpacking.

After a few moments of putting my shirts on hangers, I heard the front door creak open.

“What happened, Leo? You forget something?” No response.

Odd. I placed whatever clothing I had in my hand back into the suitcase and went back into the living room, noting the now closed door and the slight chill indicating that the door had indeed been opened recently.

“I finally got you alone.”

I spun around, clutching at my chest as I faced the intruder in my apartment.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“That isn’t very polite of you.” The blonde woman said, a smile on her face as she sat on my couch.

I looked around frantically, looking for a weapon of any kind to defend myself with. She must’ve picked up on this because as I launched myself at a nearby cabinet, she was on top of me, pinning me between her and the wooden cabinets behind me.

“What do you want?” I asked helplessly, wishing that I hadn’t left Wanda after all.

“First of all, I want you to calm down. I’m not going to hurt you, dekta.”

“Don’t call me that.” I snapped at her and she smiled.

“You’re feisty. I like that. I can see what she sees in you.”

I wriggled in her embrace and she let out a laugh, pressing herself against me.

“You’re getting me excited.”

“Get the fuck off of me!”

She grabbed me by my face and held me still, looking me over briefly before speaking again.

“Relax. I’m a friend of Wanda’s.” At her words, I tensed up.

“You’re lying.” I cried, trying to free myself from her grasp. “Wanda doesn’t have any friends.” I whispered, mostly to myself, and she smiled.

“You’re right. But, she has you.” She brought her face close to mine, our noses almost touching. “Or, she had you.”

“Let me go!” I yelled, trying my hardest to free myself from her iron grasp.

Her hand gripped at my face tighter, and she pressed her weight down against me further, and I almost felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“What do you want?” I asked again, her deep, darkened eyes staring back into mine.

“What do you think I want?”

“I don’t know!” I cried, my eyes shifting towards the door, hoping against hope that Leo would show up.

“Are you waiting for someone? Your guard dog, perhaps?”

My heart stopped at her words. Had something happened to Leo because of me?

“He’s been … detained.”

“What have you done to him?”

“Nothing - yet. Nothing if you agree to come with me quietly.”

“W-what? Why?”

She grit her teeth, her jaw clenching in frustration.

“You ask a lot of questions, little one. I promise all your questions will be answered, as long as you come with me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and thought for a second. She knew about Wanda and Leo, and I wasn’t dead, so who could she be? Was she working for someone Wanda knew? Was she -?

“I see those wheels turning in your head. Let’s do it this way then.” She huffed. “If you don’t come with me, I’ll slice your guard dog’s throat wide open and send his eyeballs to your mistress.” My eyes widened at her words. “Then, I’ll visit her personally and -”

“No!” I cried. I’d do anything to protect Wanda, even though I was sure if she could get close enough to Wanda to kill her, she would’ve done it already.

“Then you’ll come.”

I swallowed roughly and she smiled, seeing my resistance fade.

“It’s for the best. I really like this outfit - wouldn’t want to ruin it with Sokovian blood.”

•

@marvelogic @casquinhaa @mathxa @oh-thats-cute @ornorr @milkeeteaa @souanick

#oizysian writes #mafia!au #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff

494 notes · View notes

landsel · 9 months

Text

The dangerously infamous Hamato Family Head is looking to expand into alternate avenues of business. When Leo Hamato learns of the lucrative fine art world, he develops a plan. However, he needs a clean art curator without a criminal record to appear legitimate. Finding one in this city turns out to be harder than he thought...✨

So I couldn't decide on to either make a comic or write a fic for this MafiaAU idea I have... so I'm gonna do both! I'll be writing chapters and highlighting the visually interesting parts with comics~

It'll be a reader insert and filled to the brim with lots of angst and violence~! Characters are in their late 20's with Raph being 30 at the start of the story. Update schedule is loose, so keep an eye out!

Hope you enjoy~! 💙🐢💙

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

Text

His Most Prized Possession

Pairing || Dark!Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Summary || You’re the wife of the most feared man in all of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes, the mob boss of the biggest mafia in town. Your his—his girl, his beauty, his love, his property, his most prized possession. He will torture and kill anyone who dares to make any advances on his woman, and he won’t hesitate to show them who you belong to in the most sinful way possible before their end…

Word Count || 8876

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut, Angst, Dark Themes — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, slight dub-con, Dark!Jealous!Possessive!Bucky, angry/vicious!Bucky, soft!Bucky, mob/mafia business, mention of drugs/alcohol, violence, implied use of weapons, implied torture, blood, murder, crying, use of force, graphic/explicit content/language, pet names (doll, baby, babe, princess + others), unprotected vaginal sex, exhibition kink, forced voyeurism, daddy kink, spit kink, degradation & praise kink, use of the word whore, dom/sub dynamics, oral (m & f receiving), teasing, begging, face/throat fucking, gagging, fingering, spanking, choking, rough fucking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, aftercare.

Authors Note || After a lot of work it’s finally done! I’m so proud of this! Please enjoy this twisted and sinful journey! Feedback would be so much appreciated on this piece <3 I want to know what you think!

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Mob!Bucky Masterlist

I don’t do taglists anymore so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

The Underground Lounge

It was the most high-profile club in all of New York City. A place for criminals, the filthy rich, politicians and like-minded people to converge in secrecy for whatever they desire with no repercussions, whether that be alcohol, drugs, women, sex or just a fun time. Everything and anything went down here.

The club was nestled deep below The Blend nightclub, which acted as a cover for the underworld of crime below.

They were both owned by James Buchanan Barnes—Bucky amongst friends and loved ones. The most feared man in all of the city and the mob boss of the biggest and baddest mafia in town. He was also your husband. Your dangerous, vicious and sexy husband.

You and Bucky would usually be at the club on the weekends for some party and fun, which you were right now.

The VIP area that was only reserved for Bucky and company was slightly elevated over the rest of the club—giving Bucky the best view to look over his domain. It also showed the guests that they were nothing compared to the boss sitting on the high throne. The VIP area had an abundance of seating places—fitting several people. All compacted in a sizeable curved couch with a low circular table in the middle to put drinks on or other substances, for that matter. There was also enough space for Bucky’s security to keep a lookout over the club and its activities.

Today it was only you and Bucky attending. No friends, no other company, except for your security detail.

With a good percentage of alcohol in your system, you and he were all over each other—lips sloppily crashing into one another as you moaned and groaned into each other's mouths and hands roamed both your bodies.

You'd unbuttoned a few buttons of his white long-sleeved shirt—wanting to feel his collarbone and chest underneath your fingertips as you made out. His dark blue velvet dress jacket was tossed to the side long ago. Your other hand rested delicately on top of his covered bulge—palming him ever so often.

Bucky’s hand kept a tight grip on your naked upper thigh; the short little dress you wore barely covered anything, giving him easy access to your skin. His other held your throat gently in his grasp, making it impossible to move away from him not that you wanted to.

Ever so slightly, he inches his way higher up your thigh, hicking your dress up with his moves, as he caressed your delicate skin with his rough hands, making you moan and whimper into his mouth. His end goal was to get into your panties—wanting to force his fingers knuckle-deep into you and have you make a mess all over them.

It wasn't unusual for him and you to get a little naughty together in the club. On multiple occasions, you'd have his fingers deep inside your pussy or straddle his lap to grind yourself on his clothed cock. And occasionally giving him a handjob here and there.

You'd think he would be against having you so exposed to everyone’s prying eyes since he was always so protective and possessive over you in day-to-day life. But on the contrary, he loved showing you off here. It gave him the power to assert his dominance over you and make everyone know that you're his—his girl, his beauty, his love, his property and his most prized possession.

This was his club—his rules—his everything. Everyone knew not to mess with the mob boss's precious wife. Not unless they had a death wish.

Your body tingled in anticipation of having his digits buried deep inside you. You were so ready for it. So needy for it, but… God, did you really have to pee now, urgently.

“Bucky.”

His name came out in a moan rather than a plea for him to stop with his touches, making him think you wanted more. He swiped your damp panties with his thumb while his lips assaulted your neck with licks, kisses and bites, making you whine even more.

“Bucky!”

You placed your hands on his chest, shoving him lightly off you, making him stop with his kisses and retract his hand from under your dress.

“What!”

An annoyed tone was laced in his voice, but that quickly turned into concern as he thought something was wrong.

“What is it, baby?”

His thumb caressed your cheek lovingly as he tried to search your face for any discomfort. There was none, so he didn’t understand why you'd make him stop.

“I just really need to go pee.”

He nodded his head in understanding and was about to call for one of the security to accompany you, but you stopped him before he could.

“No! I can go on my own.”

“Doll…”

He cocked his head to the side. He didn’t like that. He didn’t want you going on your own.

Although the club was a safe space for you to wander around due to everyone knowing who you were and not daring to approach you under any circumstances, Bucky still wanted you looked after due to the reason that occasionally a rouge and unwanted person managed to get into the club, despite the tight security, and cause chaos and bothering the other club patrons. But that rarely happened, and right now, you just wanted to go on your own without having anyone on your tail all the time.

“Please, Bucky,” you pleaded with those puppy-dog eyes you knew he couldn't resist, “if I'm not back in 15 minutes, you can come and find me.”

“Alright, princess,” he pecked your lips, “but hurry back to me, baby,” and once more, “because I need to bury my fingers in your tight little pussy….”

He cupped your core harsh, making you moan out at the roughness. Bucky groaned out as he touched what belonged to him.

“... my tight little pussy.”

He growled in your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand and your core pulsate at his filthy words.

“I’ll be right back, babe.”

You gave him one last peck before you got up and fixed your dress—the material had bundled up your hips entirely. Bucky gave you a light tap on your ass before you walked away in search of the bathroom.

You did your business in the bathroom and freshened up before walking out to the club’s main area.

Bucky hadn't left his positing from the VIP area. His leg was crossed over the other, and his arms rested on the back of the couch while he looked calm and relaxed. You wanted to take advantage of your freedom and decided to get a quick drink at the bar before returning to him.

You made your way to the bar that was settled in the middle of the club while swaying your hips to the music playing. Luckily, the bar wasn't packed, so it should be a quick deal.

You order the drink and make yourself comfortable with your elbows on the bar counter, squeezing your breasts together, almost exposing them entirely. Your ass poked out behind you—the dress so tiny and short that it almost showed your entire ass.

You knew everyone had their eyes on you, thirsting and yearning for you—for something they knew they could never have, and that's what you loved so much about it. In this club, you loved being a little cock-tease to everyone—it made you feel powerful.

While waiting for your drink, you scanned and observed the club’s guests. Most of them you'd seen before and recognised—politicians with their mistresses, criminals making shady deals with each other, and some new faces you'd never seen before. Everyone looked to be in great spirit and having fun tonight.

“My, my… don't you look pretty tonight.”

A deep, smooth voice murmured in your ear, making you jump out of your skin a little at the roughness of it. You thought it was Bucky for a second, but the voice didn’t match quite right. When you spun around, you found yourself caught in an intense gaze by a man. Usually, you'd back away and decline any stranger like that, but something about him just made your whole being scream in need.

The man oozed danger, sex and confidence—all things you loved and had gotten so used to with Bucky. So you couldn't help yourself when you got ensnared in this stranger's trap. You knew you shouldn't talk to this man. Bucky would be pissed if he found out. But Bucky wasn't here right now, and the drink should be done any second, so you decided to play along and then would politely decline once it was time. Bucky would never know.

“Well, hello to you, stranger.”

You batted your eyelashes at him and gave him your most appetising smile and gestures you could muster up, popping your hip out and tilting your head to the side, wanting to play a bit dirty and rile him up.

“My, you're the prettiest little thing in this whole club.”

He came closer, almost pinning you against the bar with his massive frame. He licked his lips as his eyes travelled across your whole body. This man was playing a dangerous game in approaching you like that—intentions clearly sexual.

He presented his hand, and you took it gladly, shaking it.

“The names Roman,” he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it while maintaining eye contact, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Roman?

You'd heard that name before, but you couldn't quite put your finger on who he was. It was such an unusual name that you would think with such a name, you'd remember who it belonged to, but your mind was completely blank. It must be the alcohol and the intense surge of sexual energy you were experiencing.

“The pleasure is all mine, Roman,” you gave him your name, which made him smirk when he heard it.

“That's a beautiful name, princess. What brings you to this club, sweet thing?”

“Oh, I-”

The conversation was cut abruptly by someone grabbing Roman’s shoulder and pulling him away from you, turning him to face whoever it was.

You gasped.

Shit. It was Bucky.

His face was stone cold as he stared Roman down with absolute dark rage in his eyes. His fists clenched by his side—knuckles turning white.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Roman?” Bucky spat out while getting all up in his face.

Wait?

Bucky knew him?

Oh…

Oh!

Oh, no…

He was that Roman.

Shit. Now you remember.

He's the man that betrayed Bucky about a year ago and went to be with Bucky’s number one rivals instead. You remember at the time what kind of a toll it had taken on Bucky to be so gruesomely crossed.

This was not good. You felt so horrible and guilty now with the later knowledge of know this man was. How could you have forgotten him? Forgotten what he's done? You should have brushed him off instead of instigating his actions further.

You couldn't hear what they were saying because they were so up in each other's faces, but you could tell that it was a heated argument. You wondered what was being said. What kind of complications and events this would all lead to.

Suddenly, Bucky shoved him hard, and it looked like he would fight him right then and there. But he didn’t…

“You’re fucking dead, Roman,” Bucky uttered through gritted teeth.

Bucky came to your side and grabbed your arm hard. So hard that it hurt, and you winced and tossed to try and get out of his harsh grip, but he wouldn't budge. He pulled you back to the VIP area and ordered you to sit on the couch.

“Don't fucking move.”

His words were like poison, making you flinch at the absolute anger in his voice. Your eyes were becoming glossy—tears threatening to spill at any moment. You wrapped your arms around yourself for comfort.

How could you be so stupid? You should have just said no to Roman instead of acting like a fucking brat and whore—wanting to be a little cock tease for a man that wasn't even your man. You should have just been an obedient little wife and returned to your husband like you were supposed to.

Bucky was furiously talking to one of his men for several minutes. You saw how stressed, angry and fearful his demeanour was. His hand ran through his short hair multiple times. It was rare to see Bucky in this state. He was usually tough and determined, not bothered by what people said and did, and always in control of things. But it looked like Roman had really struck a sensitive nerve—said something that had put Bucky out of check.

When he was done conversing, he came back to you and took your hand, gently this time, and pulled you with him out of the main club area, not saying a thing. It looks like you were leaving. You went through the backdoor that was only used for you and Bucky and a selected few other people.

Once in the elevator, Bucky wrapped a protective arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his torso, still not saying anything. You wanted to say something. To plead for his forgiveness, but you felt awkward doing it in this tight place when you weren't alone. You would try and talk to him in the car when it was just the two of you.

Bucky ushered you into the backseat of the black luxury car, him getting in behind you. You weren't sure where you were going—home, most likely. The screen divider that separated the backseats and driver seat was up, so you were all alone, and you could finally try to talk to him.

“Bucky?”

You tried in a sweet and calm voice.

Nothing.

He pulled his phone out when it pinged with a message. His mouth remained in a thin line, eyebrows furrowed, with no emotions in his eyes as he typed on his phone before placing it inside his jacket.

“Bu-Bucky?”

Your weak voice cracked as his name came out in a sob this time.

“I-I’m so s-sorry. I-I shou-” You sobbed even more, unable to finish your sentence. You were about to cry any second, knowing that Bucky was mad and disappointed in you for being so stupid and reckless. You turned your head away from him, unable to look at his stern face.

“Doll…”

His voice was sweet compared to the poisonous one he used with you in the Underground. You thought he would yell at you once in the car. But it was the opposite. His loving and caring side surfaced—your wonderful husband that loved you beyond words.

“Baby…”

He grabbed your chin with his fingers and turned your head towards his. His eyes held nothing but love and adoration for you—his wife. His heart broke when he saw a few tears roll down your cheeks, your lips quivering.

“P-please d-don't be mad a-at me, Bucky.”

“Oh, baby… come here.”

He pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his strong arms around your waist. His head nuzzled in your neck as he laid tender kisses on the soft skin to try and soothe you,

“Mad at you? No, doll. I could never be mad at you, and I’m sorry it came across that way. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you like that, my sweet love.”

“Bu-but, you seemed s-so angry at me. Angry for what I’d done and who I was talking to. I swear, Bucky, I forgot who he was, and I-I just-”

“Doll.” He made you rest your forehead on his. His piercing blue eyes focused deep into yours—showing you that he spoke the truth. “I’m not mad at you at all. Please don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not your fault. Not even the slightest, ok? I love you, babydoll.”

“O-ok. I-I love you t-too, Bucky.”

He dried your tears while giving you a warm smile. “My precious girl.” He cradled your face in his hands and laid a light, comforting kiss on your lips. The kiss slowly progressed to a more passionate one—neediness and love poured into it.

The moment was quickly interrupted by Bucky’s phone pinging with a message in his jacket. He groaned as he fished it out to read it. You caught a glimpse and gasped when you saw what it said.

It's done.

You knew what it meant. It was the worst possible outcome following the events that unfolded in the club.

“Is, is he d-dead?”

“No, no, doll. They only questioned him, that's all.” Bucky tried to reassure you.

You knew what questioned meant. It meant that they had beaten the shit out of him, almost to the point of death. And although Bucky spoke the truth that Roman wasn't dead, he would be soon. Bucky never let something like what happened at the club go unpunished—people trying to cross his line. Certainly not when it comes to you. He would torture and kill anyone who made any advances on you, especially when they were fully aware of who you were and belonged to. And Roman most certainly knew what he was doing when he approached you. He wanted to provoke Bucky and test his limits. And now he would pay for it.

Maybe he didn’t think it through enough? Perhaps he thought he was safe because he was under the protection of Bucky’s rivals?

But one should never underestimate Bucky. He didn’t give a fuck who anyone belonged to, enemies or friends. If provoked, he would have you severely punished or, in the worst case, killed.

You shook your head—not wanting to think about it anymore. Instead, you lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder and close your eyes for the remaining car ride. His fingertips delicately caressing your arm lulled you to a relaxed and sleepy state…

———

“Doll,” his soothing voice murmured in your ear, pulling you out from the light sleep, “baby, we’re here.”

You softly moaned as you lifted your head and saw that you’d pulled into the garage of your penthouse—you were indeed home now. Luckily, because you were ready to cuddle up with your husband in bed and go to sleep in his loving and protective embrace.

“You want me to carry you?”

“N-no, I can go on my own.”

Once in the elevator, Bucky pressed the button for the roof terrace, not the apartment like you thought we would. You looked up at him. A confused expression on your face—eyebrows furrowed.

“Are we not going to bed yet?”

“Not yet,” he wrapped his arms around your shoulder, pulling you close to him, and kissed your head, “I have something I want to show you.”

What did he have to show you on the rooftop?

When the elevator arrived, Bucky took your hand and led you to the patio overlooking the light-filled city. Nothing looked unusual. Everything looked as it always did. There was no thing to show. So why did he bring you here?

“Bucky, what are we doing here?”

“Come.”

He led you to the very edge of the fence and wrapped his arms around you from behind. His head rested on your shoulder, and you leaned yours on his.

“Do you see, doll?”

“See what, Bucky?”

“The city!”

“Your city, babe.”

“Our city, baby girl. All of this is for you. Everything I do is for you. You and my undying love for you influence every decision I make in life.”

“James… you know I don't need any of this. I appreciate it, baby, you know that, but… I just need you.”

“I know, I only need you as well, but I just wanted you to know that we’re in this together. We can always count on each other. We will always have one another. Our love is powerful and unbreakable.”

“You know it, Bucky.”

You stood for a while longer. Staring out over your city as you swayed to imaginary music. Bucky’s lips graced your cheek as he whispered sweet nothings that had your heart burst with warmth, love and security.

Words can’t describe how much you loved this man. This vicious, menacing, murderous, but also affectionate, warm and joyous man. One would think such words couldn’t be combined to describe a man—that it doesn't fit. But Bucky was all those, and you wouldn’t change him for the world.

Your sweet bubble was interrupted by another notification on Bucky’s phone, making him groan in annoyance. He held one arm around your waist while the other retrieved his phone.

You couldn't see what it said this time, but he let out a groan of approval and then pulled you with him back to the elevator once he read it.

“Where are we going now? More surprises?”

“We’re just going to our room.”

Ah, finally. As much as you loved Bucky for bringing you up here and expressing his undying love for you, you really just wanted to snuggle up to him in bed now.

But once you arrived at your room, one of Bucky’s men was waiting by the door, which was highly unusual. You wondered what was going on. It probably had something to do about Bucky’s recent text message. Probably an update on Roman and his current… situation. But no matter what it was, you hoped it would be able to wait till the morning. You just wanted Bucky all to yourself now.

“Wait here, doll.”

You stood in place while Bucky approached his man. He whispered something to Bucky, and Bucky nodded before he called you over. The man bid you good night, and then it was finally just you and your husband.

“What was that all about, babe?”

“My love…”

He lay his hands on your shoulders, staring deep into your eyes with seriousness written all over his face.

What was going on?

Why was he acting so… strange?

“Yes, my dear?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do, Bucky, with my life.”

“Would you do anything I ask of you?”

You didn’t like to admit it, but you would kill for this man if the situation ever occurred.

“I-I… yes.”

“Then come with me,” he presented his hand, and you took it without hesitation, “don't be alarmed.”

Alarmed?

He opened the door to your shared master bedroom. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Although you trusted Bucky, his behaviour was more abnormal than usual, which scared you slightly.

You expected to be met with something significant while walking into the room, but there was nothing in the dim-lit room. It was a little hard to see with the lights out, so you scanned the entire space to try and find the abnormality—from the huge windows lining the outer wall, to the bed, and finally, the other side of the room. And that's when you saw it.

You gasped out loud in horror, eyes wide like saucers when you saw a person in the darkened corner of your room. It was a man—beaten, bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair. His scream was muffled by something shoved into his mouth.

Oh my god… it was Roman…

“B-Bucky, wha-”

What was happening? This was wrong. This was so wrong on so many levels. Bucky never brought any of his mob business into your home. He always tried to shield you from that gruesome aspect of his world as best as possible. So what was he doing?

You backed away slowly but were stopped by colliding into Bucky’s chest. He grabbed your upper arms to keep your shaking form in place. His breath fanned your face while he whispered in your ear.

“Don’t be scared, my love.”

You were very much horrified by the sight of a bloodied and bruised man bound tight in your room. I mean, who wouldn't be?

“Wh-what i-is going o-on?”

You contemplated screaming and running away. If that's what you wanted, Bucky would have let you go—he would never force you into doing something you absolutely didn’t want. But you didn’t move a muscle. This situation intrigued you. Bucky’s vicious and twisted mind fascinated you.

Although you were the innocent and sweet one in the relationship, you had a slight devious nature to you as well. So you wanted to see what kind of plans Bucky had in store for bringing Roman into your privacy. What kind of things does he want to do. So you let go of all your worries and went with the flow.

With Bucky’s hand secured around your neck, craning your chin up to make you look at Roman. Bucky spoke, loud enough for Roman to hear as well, the most sinful, possessive and immoral words he's ever uttered—making you shamelessly aroused and almost crumble to the floor.

“He’s gonna watch us, doll, all powerless tied up in that chair as I do with you as I please. He’s gonna watch as I undress you and expose your beautiful flesh to his eyes. He’s gonna watch as I kiss, lick, suck and bite all over your skin. He’s gonna watch and hear as I make you moan, whimper and scream. He’s gonna watch as I fuck you hard, my wife. Claiming your body and soul as mine, and mine only.”

Fuck.

You were all in.

Bucky circled his arms around your waist and brought you closer to his firm chest. Very delicately, he started leaving kisses on your exposed shoulder, making you purr in delight. His feather-light kisses made goosebumps erupt on your skin. You craned your neck to the side, giving his lips more space to continue their journey further up. A loud moan of satisfaction escaped you as he became rougher with it—licking and sucking on your tender sweet spot.

In a swift motion, he removed your little dress—leaving you in your pretty underwear. His hands started roaming all over your exposed body, paying close attention to all your curves with his fingers—hips, waist and breasts—especially your breasts. He palmed them in his grasp and pinched your nipple through the material of your bra, making you wince out at the slight pain.

While one of his hands palmed your breast, the other ran down your stomach and found its way into your panties, making you gasp once his expert fingers found your aching core. He ran his fingers through your slick folds, groaning deeply in your ear, making the hairs at the back of your neck stand.

“Fuck, baby, already so wet and messy for me, huh? Did that turn you on, princess? My little speech about fucking you and claiming you as mine while he watches all helpless?”

“U-uh, huh.”

You were revelling in the pleasure your twisted and loving husband provided you that there was no way to form any coherent words, let alone sentences. It made Bucky chuckle in a sinister way at how absolute speechless he could make you with such simple touches.

Then it all stopped—his touches and kisses. You whined out in protest and were starting to turn around to see what was going on, but he stopped you by grabbing your upper arms and turning you towards Roman again.

“Stay still, baby.”

Thankfully, his delicate touches returned to your skin. His fingers ran from your shoulder and down until they met the clasp of your bra—unclasping it with no difficulty. The bra straps ran down your arms and hit the floor with a soft thud. Your breasts fully exposed to the two men.

With Bucky’s hands caressing your waist, he descended to the floor behind you. His fingers hooked into your panties and pulled them down your legs. Now, you were fully exposed; your parts that Bucky was so protective and possessive over came to light.

He left a wet kiss on each of your ass cheeks before travelling the kisses upward your naked back—until he stood straight up and wrapped his hand around your throat again, making you yelp and pay full attention to the man tied to the chair. Bucky spoke loud again for him to hear as well.

“This here is all mine. My body—my tits, my ass, my pussy,” he groped your wet and naked core, making you gasp out, “Only I will get to touch and take all of her as I please. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

“I-it’s yours, B-Bucky, I-I belong to y-you.”

He turned you around and pulled your naked body flush into his clothed one. His hand grasped the back of your neck and brought your lips to his—hungrily kissing you, tongues caressing one another as you moaned and groaned into the heated and needy kiss. His other hand took hold of your ass cheek—altering between squeezing hard and delivering slaps to the plump flesh, which made you whimper into his mouth each time he did.

While still keeping your lips connected, Bucky manoeuvred you to the foot of the bed and removed his jacket while you helped with unbuttoning his white shirt—tearing it off his muscular body.

You roamed your hands all over his hard chest and stomach, moaning as you felt every curve and dip of his delicious muscles. While you touched him, Bucky went to work on getting his pants off.

“Let me.”

You descended to your knees, finding a comfortable place on the marble floor, and helped him tug his pants and underwear down. A satisfied gasp slips from your mouth as his hard cock springs to life—slapping against his belly.

“This cock belongs to me, doesn't it, daddy?” You mutter as you take a firm grasp on his base, and kitten lick his tip while looking up at him.

Bucky chuckled at your possessive nature, licking his lips. You could be just as possessive over Bucky as he was over you, and he loved it. He belonged to you as much as you belonged to him.

“You know it does, baby,” his hand cradled your face, “all of me belongs to you, body and soul.”

You pushed him down to sit on the foot of the bed, his hands on the mattress keeping his weight up. His eyes were fixated on your kneeling form as you nestled between his spread legs. The palm of your hands caressed his thighs up and down as you stared at his entire cock—your mouth watering at how delicious it looked.

“I’m so hungry for your cock, daddy.”

“Yeah? You gonna show him what a little cock-whore you are, baby?”

“Yes,” a glob of your spit fell on him, making him groan as your hand jerked him and spread the saliva all over his length, “I’m a little cock-whore that wants your cock in my mouth.”

He twitched at your lewd words.

“Take all of me then.”

With his hand at the back of your head, he guided and encouraged you to take him whole. With no hesitation, you engulfed his length immediately—too cock-hungry to tease and toy with him until he begged for you. You desperately needed his length deep in your throat.

You gagged around him as he tickled the back of your throat. The vibrations made him shudder where he sat. With each hand cradling your face, he forced your head up and down on him, thrusting his hips upwards to meet your moves.

Tears pooled in your eyes, and saliva dribbled out of your mouth as he forced his way down your throat. It was so messy and erotic—sloppy sounds filled the room.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as he concentrated on how your warm and wet mouth felt on his throbbing cock. Guttural groans rumbled in his throat.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well, baby.”

He removed you from him, which made you whine in protest—missing the feel of him choking you with it. Your hand wrapped around him and jerked his length in long strokes as you presented your tongue—showing him how absolute needy you were for his cock shoved deep in your cavity.

With his fingers holding your jaw, he leaned down till he was level with your face and gifted you a glob of his spit on your awaiting tongue. “Fucking whore, you know that?” You nod your head. The degrading action and words had your pussy flutter. You rolled your tongue into your mouth and leaned down to retake him, bobbing your head while Bucky supported his weight on his hands, allowing you to take control of his cock as he sat and enjoyed the lewd performance.

“I bet you’re fucking jealous now.” Bucky sneered at Roman as the corner of his mouth turned up in a sinister smirk.

Your hand accompanied your mouth—stroking his base while your mouth paid attention to his sensitive head—finding a perfect rhythm to bring Bucky over the edge. The other hand cupped his balls to fondle them.

“Look at me….”

You peered up at him through your thick lashes while you had your mouth and hands full of his cock and balls. Drool and tears covering all of you.

“...fucking shit, doll, you’re gonna make me come.” A few seconds later, he grunted as he reached his climax. His hand gripping your shoulder hard to brace himself.

Watching his face contour in pure pleasure, moaning, groaning and grunting while his thick load shoots down your throat must be one of the most pornographic scenes you’d ever witnessed. Your pussy fluttered at the sight and vocalisation of him—slickness running down your inner thighs.

Holy fucking shit.

You worked him thoroughly through his intense orgasm to make him feel as good as possible. Not letting a single drop of him go to waste—all of it trickled down your throat.

Once he had come down from his high, you pulled him out from your mouth, making his head leave with a pop. Bucky hisses as his sensitive cock is freed from your expert hold.

You were a mess—drool covering your face, hands and tits, but to Bucky, it was the most stunning you’d ever looked.

“Oh, baby. So beautiful and messy for me.”

With his hand holding your throat, he leaned down to give you a sloppy kiss which you whimpered into.

“Get on the bed.”

All giddy, you switched places with him. Your elbows supported your weight as you spread your legs for him, showing him your glistening and needy pussy.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

“Are you gonna fuck me, daddy?”

Bucky tugged your legs, pulling you further towards him—till your ass was right by the edge of your bed.

“Not yet, babydoll. I need to taste that pussy first.”

He finds a comfortable place on his knees between your spread legs so he can go to work in worshipping all of you, like the Goddess you are. His face is inches from where you so desperately need him, feeling his breath on you, making your pussy ache for him. You arch into his face, your hand running over his short hair, begging for him to taste you, touch you, do anything to you. To eat you out until he shatters your existence.

“Please, Bucky,” you pathetically plead.

“You want it, baby?”

The tip of his tongue flickers your nub. That simple touch has your whole body convulse on the bed and a soft whimper escaping you.

God, you were so needy.

“P-please.”

“I’ll make you feel so fucking good, princess,” he laid a simple kiss on your wet folds, making you convulse once more, “but first, I need to clean up this mess you’ve made, baby.” He was referring to the slickness that had spilt from you, running down your inner thighs.

While his hands caressed the side of your waist, making delicious tingles erupt on your skin, he went to work on cleaning you up with his tongue—licking up the mess you’ve made, moaning at your taste. “Your taste is outstanding, baby.” Your whimper in pain and pleasure as he nips the skin of your inner thigh with his teeth—his tongue soothing the sting after.

“You have the prettiest pussy; you know that, baby? I’m so lucky that I’m the only man who will ever get to see it, to taste it,” he licks your outer lips, which has you arch into him for more, “and to fuck this needy little cunt.”

Finally, he places his mouth where you desperately need it to be. He drags his broad tongue through your folds and flicks the tip of it on your clit. The action has you arch your back, and your eyes flutter shut.

“O-oh…”

A glob of his saliva hits your clit, trickling down your folds. He groans as he watches his mess mix with your own—making your pussy look like the most delicious five-star meal he’s ever seen.

“Look at him, baby. Look at him while I eat your pussy.”

You turned your head to look at the man bound in his chair. It’s fucked up to admit it, but it turned you on to have Bucky between your thighs while a beaten-down man watched. You could see him shaking in his chair, shock overloading his system while his bloodied face pleaded for mercy—for his hurt and misery to end.

Fuck, this was hot.

You moaned loudly as Bucky went to work on devouring your pussy like a starved man that hasn’t had a decent meal in forever. He drags his tongue through your slit multiple times to get all of your flavours. His groan against your pussy at the taste has you quiver on the mattress and a loud cry emitting from you.

He lewdly spits on your pussy to claim ownership over it before his lips wrap around your raw nub—altering between sucking and licking the sensitive nerve. You try to keep your focus on Roman, but your eyes flutter at the pleasure, your mind and vision becoming blurry.

Two fingers penetrate your velvet walls, stretching you out and reaching knuckle deep, making you wail out. Their tips brush against the spot that has you absolutely lose it, making you writhe on the bed. The other works your breast—palming the supple flesh in his grasp, pinching and pulling on your sensitive nipple. You're nothing but cries of pleasure—moaning, groaning and whimpering as Bucky works you to perfection.

You feel kind of embarrassed at how noisy and pathetic you sound, so you bite your bottom lip hard to try and keep yourself down. Bucky didn’t like that at all.

“No, no,” he releases your clit from his hold, “let him hear. Let him hear all your pretty noises, baby.”

He quickly returned his assaults on your swollen clit that throbbed in need. His fingers moved in and out of you at an expert pace, and his other hand worked your breast.

Upon his wishes, you let your cries of satisfaction flow freely—filling up the bedroom. Your breathing hitched in your throat as the buildup was nearing its breaking point, so close to shattering your whole existence—body and soul.

Both your hands are placed at the back of his head, keeping him there so that he cannot move away and deny you your pleasure under no circumstances. Your hips rock into his vicious mouth as you chase your orgasm—it’s right there, so close.

“Bucky,” you cry as you come hard, your toes curling and your whole body convulsing on the bed. You try keeping your gaze on Roman as the coil in your stomach snaps, but your eyes cross. The surge of intense pleasure on your mind and body is almost indescribable—you’ve never come so hard in your entire life. As stars blur your vision, you feel like you're floating on a cloud.

Bucky groans as he works through your orgasm, your clit throbbing in his mouth and your tight walls fluttering around his digits. He’s in awe as he watches you fall apart like you’ve never done before, and he doesn't stop pleasuring you until you are all but satisfied.

You sob from sensitivity as his mouth and fingers leave your used and abused pussy. You’re a panting and heaving mess as you try and come back to your senses.

“You have no idea how sexy and breathtaking you are when you come like that, baby,” he says before kissing your mound, making you twitch. He proceeds with his kisses up your stomach and gives each of your nipples a lick; each touch has you spasm on the bed at how overly sensitive your whole body feels. He comes to face you—gently laying a kiss on your lips so you can taste yourself.

“I really fucked you up, didn’t I? I’m the only one that can make you come like that, huh?”

All you can do is nod while babbling unfinished words as you still haven’t recovered from your high.

Bucky chuckled at your distant and fucked out state.

“I’ll fuck you up some more, doll. He’s gonna watch as I absolutely wreck you.”

He pulls you further up the bed until you’re both in the middle of it.

With his hard cock in hand, he taps the head on your swollen clit, making you twitch and sob; a weak no falls from your lips as you place your hand on his hip to try and push him off.

You can’t. You’re so overly sensitive that it hurts. You can’t take anymore. But Bucky didn’t seem to give a fuck. He wasn’t done with you.

“I-I c-can’t.”

“Yes, you can, baby.” He speaks through gritted teeth.

He takes your hand off him and pins it down on the mattress.

Again he taps your clit, pulling out the same reaction from you as before. He glides his leaking tip through your wet folds. Gradually, his cock gliding on your tingling nub feels fucking incredible, and you’re ready for him to wreck you with his length.

“Please, daddy, fuck me.”

He groaned out at your neediness for him and lined his tip with your quivering entrance. Slowly, inch by inch, he penetrates your tight velvet walls with his cock, making you whimper at the slight ache. His hands grasp the back of your thighs as he forces his way inside you, guttural groans rumbling in his throat as your warm and tight walls engulf him. The last bit of him he forcefully pushes inside you, slamming into your pelvis, making you sob a cry, and your eyes roll back—showing white. The feeling of fullness has you blabbering pleas for him to destroy and fuck you senseless.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

His voice is so deep and husky, making your walls flutter around his length, pulling out a heavy moan from him.

“I’ll fuck you so good, doll.”

He pulls out and then forces himself hard into you again, making you jolt and cry on the mattress. He does it a few times, being rough and abusive with it, before he starts fucking your tightness in deep and powerful strokes, slapping his skin against yours.

He hoists your legs on his shoulder, pinning them against his front, as he thrusts into you, his tip brushing your sweet spot each time he reaches deep inside you. You’re nothing but a moaning, whimpering mess as you take it all. Your hands grip the sheets to brace yourself, your eyes cross as he fucks you into oblivion, and your breasts bounce with each abusive thrust he delivers.

“My pussy. Mine, mine, mine, mine,” he grunts between each hard thrust, watching his length disappear through your walls.

There's nothing on your brain other than his cock—nothing but earth-shattering pleasure that it's giving.

You convey that you want him closer with grabby hands as you’re entirely speechless with how he’s fucking you.

Answering your pleas, he drops your legs on each side before lowering his body till his naked chest meets yours, holding his weight up so he won’t completely crush your sensitive body. His forehead rests on yours as his warm breath hits your face.

“So needy for my cock, huh? So needy for all of me?”

You can only let out a sound of approval.

“Good fucking girl.”

With the rolls of his hips, he manages to reach even deeper inside you, making you wail in pleasure. You wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, clinging to him with your weak strength. The buildup was fast due to your last orgasm, and you were ready to explode with pleasure once more.

“I-I-I’m go….”

You couldn't even form a coherent sentence, making Bucky chuckle at how good he was fucking your brains.

“You gonna come, baby?”

“U-uh, huh.”

“Look at him, baby,” with his fingers on your jaw; he turned your head to look at Roman, “look at him as you cream and make a mess all over my cock, you fucking whore. Look at him while I stuff your little cunt.”

You try to keep your focus on him, but it was near impossible with the way Bucky was fucking you, clouding your every sense.

A few more brutal thrusts, and you come hard, toes curling, almost blacking out at the intensity. Silent noises escape your open mouth, and your eyes roll as you explode around his cock—your walls viciously pulsating around his length and making a mess all over him. Tears streamed down your face as it became too much, too hard, but you wanted more; you wanted his cum to fill you so badly, so you pulled him in tighter with your weak legs, wanting him to spill his warm seed inside you.

With a heavy grunt, he spurts ropes after ropes of his cum inside you, decorating your walls. His hips snapped rapidly against you as he filled you up to the brim, emptying himself entirely and not stopping until you were both fucked out and satisfied.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl taking all of me.”

He stilled inside once he was done, making a breath of relief and satisfaction escape you, and a deep groan came from him at the aftershocks. He peppers kisses on your clammy neck and collarbone, whispering sweet praises and affirmation after being so dominant and rough with you. You hold him close, nuzzling your face into his short hair as you hum and sigh in contentment at being stuffed full of his cum.

A whimper falls from you as his body leaves yours, leaving you cold, followed by a sob as his cock leaves your used and abused hole, leaving you unfulfilled.

“Look at that, baby,” Bucky was fascinated with his cum trickling out of your quivering hole, ”such a pretty sight.” He collected all of the cum with his tip and pushed himself hard into you again, making you squeal. After giving you a few more strokes, he pulled out, making the cum flow out once more. He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek, followed by some words that made your breath hitch.

“Stay still, baby. I need to show him.”

He what?

You were still and spread out like he requested, your body too sensitive and sore to move anyways. With hooded eyes, you watch Bucky’s naked behind as he walks away from you and over to the man bound tight in the corner.

Bucky removes the gag from Roman’s mouth, and you can hear him coughing blood and saliva as his voice is freed. He tries to say something, but it comes out as a gurgling sound.

“Did you really fucking think I would let you go unpunished from my club, you fucking filth?”

Bucky’s fist connects with Roman’s bloodied and bruised face—the noise of skin punching skin and the crackling of Roman’s teeth at the force of it is the most uncomfortable sound you’ve ever heard. You shut your eyes tight as Bucky hits him again, and then a last time.

“Did you really fucking think I would let you speak about my wife like that without me having your head for it?”

You still didn’t know what Roman had said to Bucky in the club, but it was obviously triggering. So Bucky had gone to this extent in showing him, and others for that matter, what happens when someone spoke about his possessions.

Bucky removed his restraints and pulled Roman by his hair over to you on the bed—propping him up so he rested on his knees, his bruised face close to your pussy.

You were lost for words at what was happening, at what Bucky was doing. You just closed your eyes tight and hoped that whatever was going to happen would be over soon.

“Look at that, huh. Look at it. Isn’t it so fucking beautiful?”

Bucky was referring to his cum seeping out of your quivering hole—making a beautiful mess.

Roman looked with hooded eyes and tried to say something, but his words came out strained and unclear.

“Fucking LOOK AT IT!”

Bucky yelled in his face. It startled you and made tears roll down your cheek. This feels so degrading… but my God, also so fucking hot at the same time—to have someone being forced to look at your most intimate part that’s just been used and abused and stuffed full of cum.

Roman looks with wide eyes now, well, one at least; the other one is too bruised to open fully. He makes a painful noise as Bucky pulls his head up by his hair.

“This is mine. My pussy,” Bucky spreads your lips, “this is my girl, my fucking wife, and that’s my fucking cum that’s claimed her. You will never ever get to touch her. Touch what rightfully belongs to me. How dare you come into my club and use your filthy disgusting words on my wife, especially after betraying me like that, you worthless piece of shit.”

Bucky tosses him to the ground, his body hitting the hard floor in a loud thud while he groans in pain.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky spat at him.

Bucky retrieves his phone from his jacket, and you hear his thumbs moving across the keyboard—typing a message. You’re unsure what’s happening and too tired and slightly traumatised to ask questions.

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on the bedroom door, and Bucky stands with his back, all tall and broad, to you, blocking your body so whoever is on the other end can’t see you fully exposed. Bucky doesn’t care about his own nudity in the slightest.

Whoever entered the room didn’t say anything, but you could hear them come closer and stop by Roman, waiting for Bucky to give them instructions.

“Dispose of him,” Bucky utters in a deep and sinister voice.

“Yes, Sir.”

You hear Roman getting pulled away, never to be seen again, and then a door closes, leaving only you and Bucky in your bedroom.

“Baby.”

His sweet and caring voice was back; his protective and warm touches were back—your loving husband. He cleans you off with his shirt and then cradles your body, making you sit on his lap as he wraps his tender, soft arms around your frame. You nuzzle your face into his sweaty neck, a tired sigh leaving you as his fingers run delicately on your clammy skin, soothing your aching flesh and lulling you to sleep.

“Are you ok, doll?” He takes your tired face in his hands, making you look at his concerned one, searching yours for any sign of stress or discomfort. “Was that too much? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, doll, you had to see that, to hear that. That I had to put you through that.”

You honestly didn’t know what to say at what just unfolded—too tired and sore to process the whole event properly, but you were ok, for now. You were just happy to finally have your husband to yourself after such a pleasurable and vicious evening. All you wanted now was to fall asleep in his protective embrace.

All worries and questions about tonight could wait until the morning.

“I-I’m o-ok, James, just tired,” you yawn.

“Oh, baby…”

He scoots you up the bed—until you both rest your heads on the fluffy pillows, facing each other.

“... come here.”

You make yourself small and vulnerable as you nuzzle and cling to the embrace of your vicious lover and protector—his arms and legs holding you close. A content sigh breathes through you as your head tucks into his chest; listening to the calming beats of his heart—this was your home, where you wanted to be forever; despite Bucky’s brutal nature at times, you never ever wanted to leave his side.

Bucky’s murderous hands treat your skin like it's the most delicate thing in the world—softly stroking your back, making you shudder and purr in delight. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered against your hair, followed by a hum of a pleasant tune that slowly lulls you to sleep.

The last thing you hear are words that solidify your love and trust for your husband.

“You’re mine, mine only, my everything, and I love you beyond words, my sweet love….”

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

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wooataes · 4 months

Text

a wilted rose - ljh

pairing: mafia boss!lee jihoon x fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mafia!au, arranged marriage!au, angst, hurt and comfort, mentions of violence and guns, injuries, bruises, crying, swearing, implied murder, slight fluff, jihoon being protective (yes, that’s a warning)

summary: an unfortunate encounter has jihoon realize his true feelings for his wife.

a/n: toyed around with the idea of mafia!boss jihoon and this is what popped out 🙊 happy new year, friends!

- tae 💜🌸✨

Masterlist

Part Two? | Ask to be added to my taglist

Lee Jihoon’s family is known as one of the most feared Mafia families in South Korea, his great grandparents having made a reputation for themselves that has been held up for generations.

Jihoon was born an only child and singular heir to the Lee fortune and the Lee legacy; having known from a young age that he would eventually end up being the leader of the Lee clan. He knew the family business was dangerous, and since being taught the ropes at 13, he knew that his relationships could be used against him from rival clans. This reason alone caused him to be cautious and callous with who he associated with. He only has two important people he would consider his friends.

His closest friend, Kwon Soonyoung also doubles as his right hand man. Both men grew up together due to Soonyoung’s father being close with Jihoon’s. Their frequent meetings caused the young men to be around eachother for long bouts of time, eventually being homeschooled together while their father’s talked business. For Jihoon, Soonyoung is the one and only person he could trust on this earth- time and time again, he has always proved his unchallenged loyalty to Jihoon and his father’s family. If Jihoon was irrational and unfiltered, Soonyoung was his voice of reason and his level-headed decision maker. To him, it was a match made in heaven.

The second person he considered his friend, or used to, was you. You came into both Jihoon and Soonyoung’s life at 8 years old, your family having been hired by Master Lee to work as live-in staff in their mansion. You were the only other child Jihoon and Soonyoung’s age, and despite Master Lee’s cold heart, he grew to treat you like his daughter and let Jihoon frequently spend his younger years playing with his two closest friends when they weren’t being homeschooled together until he was of age to get into the family business.

12 months ago, when Jihoon had just turned 25, Master Lee announced his soon to be retirement to his son. The only condition for Jihoon to step up to be head of the family business was simple but to Jihoon, was absolutely atrocious.

“I don’t understand why you think me marrying would be advantageous to the family, father.” He hisses, adjusting his chain around his neck, glaring at the stupid red rose, the Lee family staple, perfectly pinned to his lapel.

“It is not to a random woman, Jihoon.” Master Lee frowned.

“That makes it worse!” He barked, leaning his head back in frustration.

“Jihoon. You have to know that no one can be trusted in this business. I am not allowing you to marry outside of who we trust. They can slither their way into your heart and when you are at your most vulnerable, they take everything out from under you. If the enemy knows you’re committed to someone already, it keeps them from hurting us from the inside.”

“Yeah, it also makes Y/N the number one target to the enemy and they will try and swipe her away from under our noses!” He’s yelling now.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he cares too much for you. You’re too good to be associated with the dastardly business that is associated with being in the mafia; you’re a good hearted person who happily serves the Lee family alongside your just as good parents. You’re the one good thing that Jihoon has left, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t protect you.

“It’s not like you’re going to be parading her out for missions and stake outs.” Master Lee frowns. “She is only for the parties. So others know that you’re a committed man that will not waver. I guarantee you she will be protected. She will be treated like a queen in here, and she won’t ever have to see the dark side of the business. Son, I promise you.”

For 12 months, Jihoon, in the public eye was the perfect model husband with you. He stayed by your side faithfully at galas and parties, parading you around with a look of what was perceived as adoration by others. Behind closed doors however, Jihoon treated you like a ghost. Long gone was your once closest friend who you stayed up late with to binge watch stupid movies, playing video games and pranks on Soonyoung. The only thing that remained was a quiet man that only greeted you for one meal a day, to his insistence for the sake of ‘normalcy.’ In your opinion, it felt anything but. Your attempts at conversion were shut down with one worded answers or sometimes none at all, and over time, you grew to enjoy your meal with your husband in silence before going about your day around the Lee mansion alone.

Jihoon thought his father’s plan was working. For 12 months, his wife was safe and protected and never got caught up with any of the mafia business. He was in alliance with most rival clans and worked out plans and deals to work for the foreseeable future.

Sadly for Jihoon, Master Lee was full of shit.

Jihoon is frantic. The staff had alerted him while out for a meeting with an ally clan that you had been injured. They were intentionally vague with details, knowing their boss would fly off the handle at the extent to what your injuries were.

“She’s at home.” Jihoon hears Soonyoung’s voice over the phone.

“What the fuck happened, Soonyoung.” He is sure he is making his driver break at least 10 different road laws right now to get back to the mansion. He makes a mental note to contact the local police and send some generous gift baskets.

“The guards don’t know. I’m trying to get it out of them, but no luck yet.”

“She shouldn’t have been out unsupervised.” Jihoon winces, rubbing at his temples. “Tell them if they don’t give you an honest answer by the time I’m back, I will have their tongues.”

“Just go to her right now, Hoon-ah.”

Marching into the living room, Jihoon makes his presence known by the heavy thuds of his boots on the tiled floor. His eyes scan the room until they finally land on you, his childhood friend and arranged wife, sitting anxiously on the couch. He feels his eye twitch at the sight of no guards in sight, you having been left alone since you have returned.

You lift your head up shakily, your eyes widening at the sight of your husband. His long hair, usually sported in a bun atop his head is now strewn about and falling out of the elastic holding it together, suit jacket scrunched and twisted, red rose nowhere to be found. You’re astonished, having grown so used to seeing your husband with his perfect red rose on his lapel at all times. What you didn’t know that after having found out about your capture, he thrown it to the ground in frustration of his worst fears coming true.

“Jihoon?” You blink nervously.

This is the first time you’ve seen him properly (minus your daily lunches) for maybe a month. He stares intently across the room at you, scanning your body. You’re cradling your left wrist in your hand, a bruise in the perfect shape of a hand print forming around your wrist. His eyes lift to your face, his blood boiling at the sight of a small cut across your cheek, your right eye swelling up and starting to turn purple.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, biting down on your lip. “I know I shouldn’t have-“

You flinch at the sight of Jihoon striding forward, only to pause when he walks straight past you and into the kitchen, causing your shoulders to deflate. You were stupid to think your best friend had come back for only a moment. You sink sadly into the couch, curling up slowly.

Your head stays facing down at the floor as you run your fingertip over the hand print on your wrist, wincing and hissing as you press a little too hard. You sigh after a moment, moving to stand up before you pause at the sight of Jihoon’s expensive dress shoes directly in front of you.

You look up nervously at him as he reaches out, delicately taking your wrist, face neutral as he runs his fingers gently over the bruise just like you had done, eyebrows furrowing. You shiver slightly, this being the first physical contact you have felt from your husband in months. Next, he reaches forward and tucks a stray hair behind your cheek before examining the darkening bruise over your eye. At this, you see his eyes darken, heaving a heavy sigh through his nose.

“Who the fuck did this to you.” His voice is soft as he eyes you.

“I-I…”

“I need to know who did this.” He pleads.

“It was Hwang.” You whimper.

His jaw clenches. Hwang has sworn vengeance against the Lee family ever since Master Lee cut ties and alliances with the Hwang’s over his unethical practices. In Hwang’s words, he wanted to poison the perfect garden of roses that Master Lee built.

“H-he said it was a warning..” you can’t look Jihoon in the face. “T-to keep your wife on a leash or else something could happen. Jihoon, I’m so sorry, I really shouldn’t have gone out, I didn’t want to cause any more trouble.” You’re crying softly now, wincing at the pain that your swelling is causing.

You tense up as you feel something cool delicately rest on your cheek, opening your eyes to see your husband holding an ice pack gently to your face. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as he moves you so you’re sitting down on the couch once more.

“You stay here until Soonyoung gets back to look after you, okay?” He instructs you as you just stare at him, bewildered. “Do you hear me, Y/N?” You nod your head slowly as you cradle the ice pack to your cheek. “Good.”

You watch Jihoon turn around and march back towards the front door of the mansion, pointing to Mr Kim, one of the guards who has been in Jihoon’s family for years. “Make sure no one comes inside this mansion except for me and Soonyoung. You guard her with your life until he gets here.” The man nods his head sternly as he moves to stand in the doorway between the living room and the entryway.

“J-Jihoon? Where are you going?” You ask nervously as your husband adjusts the gun holster around his waist, his voice cold and deadly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m going to kill the fucker who thought he could touch my wife and get away with it.”

And with that, the door slams behind him, leaving you alone with Mr Kim eyeing the door sternly.

You stay anxiously in the living room for what feels like an eternity, waiting to hear anything from Jihoon or his guards. You jolt at the sound of the door after only 15 minutes of sitting in silence, breathing a sigh of relief as you see Soonyoung rush inside and run straight towards you.

“Soon…” you whimper as he meets you halfway, immediately pulling you close and hugging you to his chest.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He breathes out, shaky. “The one fucking day I had to go run some errands…”

You hate the fact that Hwang probably waited for Soonyoung to be away from you to strike.

“Soon, it’s fine…” you whisper, wincing as he pulls away to look down at your face, closely examining your swelling eye.

“It’s not fine, look at you!”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” You whisper, and he just sighs with frustration, leading you to the couch and sitting you up against the cushions, laying a fluffy blanket over you.

“You’re going to sit here and we are going to watch some tv until Jihoon-ah gets back, okay?” He settles down beside you.

“Soonyoung, you can go have a shower or eat or something...” Your voice is low as he scrolls through random movies to play on Netflix.

“Nope.” He made a promise to stay with you until Jihoon gets back, and he will stay true to his word. Eating and washing up can wait.

“Y/N-ah.” Soonyoung glances at his phone after a few hours. The ice pack against your cheek is now lukewarm, your legs having shaken non-stop since you’d been forced to sit down.

“Hm..” you hum in response.

“Jihoon-ah will be home in 5 minutes. He asked for me to give you both some privacy and take care of some clean-up. Will you be okay with Mr Kim watching you?”

“Okay.” You respond nervously, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Soonyoung gently touches your good cheek with his finger.

“I’ll be in the other room making calls if you get scared between now and then. Okay?”

“Thank you, Soonie.” You whisper, looking up at him with a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles back before turning around and walking down the hall, leaving you alone once more as the panic begins to rise in your body.

You’re lucky you don’t have to wait long, as true to Soonyoung’s word, Jihoon steps inside his mansion and into the living room not even 5 minutes later, heaving a sigh. When you spot him, you rush quickly to him, immediately noticing the blood on his shirt and causing you to panic even more.

“Oh god.. you’re bleeding, what have I done? Your father will have me for this.” You quickly try to wipe the blood off his shirt (which you’re relieved to realize isn’t his). Jihoon surprises you both as he reaches forward to take your injured wrist again, pulling you to him and wrapping his arms tight around your waist.

He pulls your head into the crook of his neck, squeezing you to him as his chin rests on top of your head, grip tight on your shirt. You’re shaking before you just melt into his embrace, holding onto his jacket tight as he hums.

“Are you okay.” When you just nod, he pulls back to look into your face. “I need to hear it from you, Y/N. Please… just humor me.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, Hoonie.” You breathe out with wide eyes.

Why does he look so scared?

He sighs with finality before he pulls you back to him, hugging you tight for the first time since he was forced to hold you at your wedding over 12 months ago.

“We will need more security.” He mumbles to you as he holds you tight. “Guards at every post. When we go out, when you’re out in the garden, everywhere. It’s clear they know your schedule so we need to throw them off your scent.” He is talking a mile a minute as he keeps you close to his chest, afraid you’d slip away. “As a precaution, I will have guards sweep the house for any bugs they could have planted. Tonight, we will sleep in the safe house. Is that okay with you, Y/N?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You whisper, your face buried in his shirt. You don’t want to leave his side as much as he doesn’t too - this being the most affection you’ve gotten from someone in 12 months.

“Fuck.” Jihoon didn’t account for the fact his safe house only had one king size bed. “You can take the bed, okay… I can take the couch.”

“Don’t be silly.” You hum, already dragging him to the bed. “We’re both adults here. I think we can handle sharing a bed. We used to in school, right Hoonie?”

“I mean yeah, but we weren’t married then.”

“We’re only married on paper. Why are you being so iffy?” You laugh, wincing as your smile hurts your bruising cheek. Without thinking, he reaches out to cup your face worriedly, examining the bruise before rushing out to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a small ice pack to press to your cheek.

“I’d feel more comfortable if you were close, Hoon. Please.” You ask quieter now as he rocks awkwardly on his heels.

“Only until you’re asleep.” He bargains, and you nod quickly.

“Deal.”

After an awkward intermission of you both getting ready to share the bed for the first time since your wedding, you’re finally drifting off, curled up beside your husband as he sits up against the bed head, stiff as a board in sweatpants and a large jumper. Jihoon lays on top of the blankets so he can make an easy get away when you fall into a deep sleep.

He’s about to up and leave as your breathing evens out, thinking you’re asleep when he feels you shift. You scoot closer, hand finding his as your head nestles comfortably against his shoulder. You visibly relax at his warmth, your shaky hands slowing to a stop as you essentially glue yourself to his side. He tenses up, looking down at you with wide eyes as you finally fall asleep. He frowns deeply at the sight of your bruise showing before aggressively sighing to himself and wrapping his free arm around you to hold you against his chest. He is unable to resist your cuteness. That, and he wants to protect you, of course.

Jihoon refuses to sleep a wink in case someone tries to break in, but after hour four of him stroking your arm delicately with his cheek resting on top of your forehead, he feels himself drifting off.

When he wakes up, he sees you’re still cuddled up to him, but almost jumps out of his skin when he sees Soonyoung standing at the foot of the bed with a knowing smirk on his face.

“It took you long enough to treat your wife like she is your wife.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jihoon hisses out as quietly as possible to not wake you, his cheeks bright red. “If she wakes up, I’ll have your head.”

“I’m sure you will.” He winks.

“Kwon Soonyoung I swear to god if my wife wasn’t sleeping against me right now, you’d be six feet under.”

“Mhm~” he sing songs, stepping out the bedroom door.

“If you tell anyone, you’re dead.”

ljh taglist

@breakfastburritosattiffanys @mar-627 @milopenne @lanatheawesome @sunnynapp @jaeminsbuckethat @opheliaas-stuff @hotricewoozi@lavayeon @seventeenthingsblr @zaggprincess2 @markleehee @kwanniesboo @beardedartgamingbakery @iarayara

permanent taglist

@misshale21 @etaerealboy @kawennote09 @im-gemmy @devinkelsey19 @woozieeeee @loveless-lie @lixiel0ver @keymins @nen-nyy @i-dont-give-a-fok @miriamxsworld @jojowantstocry @roe-sinning @sun-daddy-yoriichi @coveyland @side-angel @rinalouu @flwerrchild @apobangpowrld @ldysmfrst @adeptiixiao @lisaaaaamanobannn @jovialpartyneckoaf @sarahisupset

#TSUNDERE WOOZI THOUGHTS GO BRRRRRRR #seventeen angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #lee jihoon x reader #woozi angst #woozi x reader #lee jihoon angst #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #woozi fluff #jihoon x reader #mafia!au #woozi mafia au #seventeen mafia au

441 notes · View notes

agustdakasuga · 1 year

Text

The Way Of A Criminal (Series Masterlist) [PAUSED]

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

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vivwritesfics · 5 months

Text

No Need To Ask (FIN)

Masterlist

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

Enemies to lovers

62K words

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

What Happened To Oscar?

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Blurbs

They have a girl

Protective Carlos

Jealous Carlos

Oscar wants to be a racer

Little Oscar wants to be a racer

Y/N doesn't want anymore kids

Y/N doesn't get kidnapped

Girl Dad Carlos

Carlos Stops Smoking

POV: Oscar Saves the Reader

Carlos with a breeding kink

Oscar meets Oscar

Reader is insecure

A Lando story

Carlos spends time with his son

Oscar and Max fuck the reader

Carlos finds Marie alive

Little Oscar and his sister, all grown up

Carlos catches oscar and reader

carlos x reader x oscar

birthday blurb

reader gets what she wants

little oscar asks for a sister

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suugarbabe · 5 months

Text

Protego Series Masterlist

This is an ongoing series, I am doing updates frequently

Chapters marked with a (*) are smut or smut adjacent/violence/etc. 18+ MDNI with mature content

summary: mafia!au; Mattheo is the leader of a feared and dangerous mafia family. You enter his club looking for an escape as well as protection, but what you get may be more than what you bargained for.

[Chapter 1]

[Chapter 2]

[Chapter 3]

[Chapter 4]

[Chapter 5]*

[Chapter 6]**

[Chapter 7]**

[Chapter 8]**

[Chapter 9]**

[Chapter 10]**

[Chapter 11] coming soon...

#mafia!slytherin boys #mafia!mattheo riddle #mafia!theo nott #mafia!au #mafia!draco malfoy #mafia!pansy parkinson #mafia!blaise zabini #mafia!enzo berkshire #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle smut

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charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:

Part 1 here

Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.

“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”

He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.

He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.

“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”

Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.

“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”

He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).

“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.

He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.

“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”

You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”

He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.

“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”

“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”

He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.

“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”

“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.

You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.

—

Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.

Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.

That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.

Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).

There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.

And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.

He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.

Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.

All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.

(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.

“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.

You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”

“Cheers, luv.”)

There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.

Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.

You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.

“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”

“MacTavish,” Price snaps.

That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.

“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”

“Thought I told you?” Price says.

“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”

He blinks. “Scheduling app.”

You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”

You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia!au #mafia boss price #mafia!price #assistant reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months

Text

Echoes Of Revenge || Part 1

Character: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Y/N, an analyst at Goldenlix Capital, discovers her promotion hopes crushed by favoritism. Seeking solace in a nightclub, she encounters her past tormentor, Bucky.

Warning: Betrayal, heartbreak, manipulation.

Part 2 : Shattered Echoes

Part 3: All The Lies

Part 4: Sweetest Dreams

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Y/N, an ambitious analyst at Goldenlix Capital, had consistently delivered profitable predictions for the hedge fund.

Despite her hard work, the promotion she longed for slipped away when the CEO's nephew, Simon, secured the portfolio manager position.

Frustrated, Y/N sought solace at a nightclub with her colleagues. As Y/N immersed herself in the pulsating beats and vibrant atmosphere of the nightclub, she was unaware of the watchful eyes observing her every move.

The rhythm of the music and the clinking of glasses provided a temporary escape from the frustrations at work.

Suddenly, a lavish display of expensive drinks arrived at her table, catching Y/N off guard. The waitress informed her that they were compliments of the house, leaving Y/N momentarily puzzled by the unexpected gesture.

Just as she wondered who might be behind this gesture, Bucky entered.

Bucky made his entrance with confidence, navigating through the crowd with a swagger that suggested a newfound maturity.

Dressed in an impeccably tailored, expensive suit, he exuded a sense of self-assuredness. His arrival was accompanied by the subtle clink of cufflinks and the rich scent of a high-end cologne.

As he approached Y/N's table, Bucky flashed a charming smile, his eyes hinting at a mixture of mischief and sophistication.

However, Y/N, ever focused and unswayed by external displays, remained unimpressed by his polished appearance. She eyed him skeptically, silently signaling that material possessions wouldn't alter her priorities or impressions.

With a smirk, he approached Y/N, confidently revealing, "I thought you could use a taste of the finer things tonight, Y/N. It's on me.”

There, she unexpectedly encountered Bucky, a college classmate with a history of teasing her. Now claiming to be the club's owner, Bucky attempted to flirt with her.

Unimpressed, Y/N looked down on his attempt to impress her. "Owning a nightclub doesn't change who you are, Bucky. I'm focused on my career," she retorted, dismissing his advances.

Undeterred, Bucky tried a different approach, acknowledging his past mistakes. "People change, Y/N. Maybe you should loosen up and enjoy the night," he suggested.

Maintaining her composure, Y/N replied, "I'll pass on the life lessons, Bucky. I have bigger goals than spending my time with someone who hasn't really grown up.”

Y/N's colleagues discreetly made their exit, leaving her alone with Bucky. He nodded appreciatively, acknowledging their departure, and sat beside her, pouring a drink into her glass.

"So, what's the problem? I never thought the nerd of my class would spend money on the expensive table," Bucky remarked teasingly.

Y/N scoffed, "This is expensive? I didn't realize."

Surprised by her nonchalant response, Bucky commented, "Where is the timid Y/N I know? She's gone.”

Y/N gulped her drink, contemplating his observation. "Money. Everything could change because of money," she admitted.

Her past, rooted in a modest upbringing, had shaped her determination to succeed. Working hard to escape financial constraints, her dream was to become a fund manager.

She looked at Bucky with a hint of disdain. She doesn't appreciate people like him who lead careless lives just because they come from wealthy families.

Bucky noticed the scattered name cards of Y/N's colleagues on the table and picked one up. Reading it, he remarked, "Goldenlix Capital? You work there? That's impressive."

Y/N responded with a nonchalant "hmm."

Bucky, perceptive, ventured, "Let me guess, you didn't get the promotion?"

Surprised, Y/N asked, "How...?"

Bucky leaned back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I've seen many types of people come and go in this place," he said, revealing a hint of insight into the workings of the professional world they both navigated.

Bucky's casual revelation about his observations at Goldenlix Capital intrigued Y/N, prompting her to give him a scrutinizing look. As she contemplated his words, Bucky continued, "It's a tough world out there, especially when you're navigating corporate ladders."

Y/N, still guarded, responded, "You seem to have it all figured out."

Bucky chuckled, "Well, not everything, but I've learned a thing or two. Sometimes it's not just about hard work; it's about playing the game.”

Bucky leaned in, a glint of sincerity in his eyes, as he proposed, "Let me be your client."

Y/N, skeptical, questioned, "Why?"

Bucky shrugged a hint of nostalgia in his tone, "I don't know. Perhaps because of a nostalgic feeling. I want to help an old friend."

Y/N, maintaining her guard, retorted, "We were never friends. You always used me."

With a sly smile, Bucky countered, "Then, I'll use this as my apology letter."

The air between them carried tension, a mix of unresolved history and an unexpected proposal.

As Bucky got closer, the alluring scent of his elegant perfume enveloped Y/N. Their proximity seemed to amplify the tension, a subtle dance of conflicting emotions.

"I'm serious. Give me your name card," Bucky whispered, a soft murmur against the rhythmic beats of the music.

Y/N, somewhat reluctantly, handed over her name card. Bucky took it with a charming smile, his gaze lingering on hers. "Tomorrow your boss will go nuts," he predicted, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With a final, lingering look, Bucky gracefully rose from his seat. "See you next time," he said, leaving Y/N in a state of contemplation, the lingering scent of his perfume and the enigmatic encounter resonating in the dimly lit ambiance of the nightclub.

Excitement mixed with intrigue surged through Y/N as she stepped into the bustling office the next day. Her boss, Ivan, beckoned her into his office with an animated expression, "Y/N, we've just landed a significant new client. The funds have been wired, and you're in charge."

Perusing the financial statement, Y/N's eyes widened at the substantial amount. "This is impressive, sir. I'll ensure it's handled with utmost precision," she assured.

Ivan leaned back in his chair, a shrewd smile on his lips. "Not just impressive, Y/N. Make it triple. We need to show our new client the prowess of Goldenlix Capital.”

Y/N nodded, her mind already racing with investment strategies. "I'll diversify the portfolio, perhaps allocate more in growth stocks, considering the current market trends. And we can leverage options to enhance returns without taking excessive risk," she suggested.

Ivan impressed with her immediate analysis, nodded in agreement. "Exactly, Y/N. Show them why you're the rising star here."

As she left his office, Y/N couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events—Bucky's proposition at the nightclub, the mysterious new client, and now the challenge to triple the investment.

Now witnessing his portfolio's profits tripling under Y/N's adept guidance, Bucky couldn't help but be impressed. As rumors circulated about Y/N potentially becoming the next portfolio manager, her boss and colleagues acknowledged her exceptional skills.

One day, Bucky approached Y/N with a mixture of admiration and amusement. "I knew I could count on you, Y/N. Looks like you're not just the 'nerd' from our college days anymore."

Y/N, maintaining her professionalism, Y/N replied with a slight smirk, "Money talks, Bucky. It's all about making the right moves in the market."

Bucky, however, seemed persistent in keeping the conversation personal. "Or maybe it's about making the right moves in life," he teased, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unyielding. "Let's keep it professional, Bucky. This is business.”

As Y/N attempted to make a swift exit, Bucky intercepted her, his hand gently restraining her. Irritated, she shot him a sharp look, demanding, "What?!"

Bucky, undeterred, asserted, "I'll double my money."

Y/N, skeptical, retorted, "What for? You already have enough. You need to learn about limits."

With a wry smile, Bucky countered, "If I have to pay a high price just to have a date with you, then I will pay everything."

Rolling her eyes, Y/N dismissed his proposition, "Yeah, right."

Bucky leaned in, a teasing glint in his eyes. "My silly Y/N. Don't you know why I always played with you back then?”

Y/N, unamused, shot back, "You bullied me to get my attention. Are you in kindergarten?”

Y/N, after a moment of contemplation, finally relented, "Fine. One date. But no, I don't want your money. The stock market is not good this time. What if you get mad because you lose money?"

Bucky chuckled, his tone playful, "There's no way I'm going to be mad at you, silly.”

As Y/N and Bucky shared that one date, their connection deepened, weaving a thread of unexpected intimacy into their lives.

The complexities of their relationship unfolded like a carefully scripted narrative, intertwining the professional and personal in a way that left Y/N simultaneously exhilarated and hesitant.

Her life, seemingly perfect after successfully handling Bucky's portfolio, took an unforeseen turn when her Ivan dropped a bombshell – he wanted to hand over Bucky, her biggest client, to his nephew, Simon.

The news sent shockwaves through Y/N, her world suddenly tilted on its axis.

Y/N, with a mix of frustration and anxiety, found herself standing at Bucky's doorstep, the weight of her predicament evident in her eyes. Sensing her distress, Bucky welcomed her inside, "What happened, Y/N? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Taking a deep breath, Y/N explained the situation, "My boss wants to hand over your portfolio to his nephew. It's a complete mess, and I don't know what to do."

Bucky, leaning against the wall, studied her with a thoughtful gaze. "You came to me for help. Looks like our roles are reversing."

Y/N, a hint of vulnerability in her voice, admitted, "I never thought I'd need help, especially from someone like you.”

Bucky, his expression softening, replied, "We all need help sometimes. It doesn't make you weak.”

As Y/N faced the uncertain aftermath of seeking Bucky's help, she soon discovered that her most significant competitor, Simon, had mysteriously vanished from the office scene.

The absence of the rival candidate created a void that only she could fill, paving the way for Y/N to enter the role of project manager uncontested.

The news rippled through the office, and Y/N found herself at the center of surprise and admiration.

Colleagues congratulated her on the unexpected turn of events, and her boss, puzzled by his nephew's disappearance, acknowledged her as the natural choice for the project manager position.

Gratitude and curiosity again led Y/N to Bucky's door, a soft knock signaling her presence. As Bucky opened the door, a knowing smile played on his lips, "Come to thank me, Y/N?"

Y/N responded with a hint of appreciation in her eyes, "I can't deny that your mysterious touch might have played a role in my unexpected promotion. So, thank you."

Bucky, stepping closer, his gaze lingering, remarked, "I'm always here to help, especially when it comes to you.”

Three months had passed, and Bucky, in the routine of his daily activities, eagerly anticipated seeing his girlfriend. The past week had kept Y/N busy as she jetted off to Dubai to meet with a new client.

However, on this particular day, as Bucky went about his usual tasks, his assistant interrupted, a hint of apprehension in their voice, "Sir, the police are here."

Bucky, initially thinking he had misheard, questioned, "Huh?"

The police, standing with an air of authority, informed Bucky that he was accused of money laundering. Unfazed, Bucky dismissed the accusation with a roll of his eyes, stating, "Money laundering? I'm a legit businessman.”

The police countered, accusing him of using Goldenlix Capital for money laundering. Bucky scoffed, insisting the company was legitimate.

The turning point came when his assistant displayed a live news report on their phone, revealing that Goldenlix Capital was now branded as a scam company.

Bucky, disbelief written on his face, uttered, "What?!" Realizing the severity of the situation, he urgently reached for his phone, attempting to call Y/N, only to face the frustration of her unanswered calls.

As the news of Goldenlix Capital being labeled a scam investment company flooded every media outlet, Bucky was engulfed in chaos. Desperate for information about Y/N's whereabouts, he pressed the police, hoping for reassurance.

Bucky questioned, anxiety seeping into his voice, "Have you seen any news about Y/N?"

The police, maintaining an air of detachment, replied, “She went missing."

Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief, and he uttered a baffled "Huh?!" The absence of Y/N from the news coverage added another layer of mystery to an already bewildering situation.

As he grappled with the unfolding events, uncertainty and concern for Y/N's safety overshadow the chaos surrounding Goldenlix Capital.

The unfolding chaos threatened his professional empire and the stability of the connection he had built with Y/N in the past few months.

Fury burned within Bucky as the realization sunk in – he hadn't merely lost money; he had been played. The anger surged through him, a relentless fire fueled by the betrayal he felt. Determination set in, transforming his frustration into a resolute mission.

His mind raced with questions about Y/N's motives, but the lack of information only intensified his desire to uncover the truth.

Bucky, driven by a newfound resolve, vowed to track down Y/N and unravel the mystery behind her involvement, or lack thereof, in the scandal that had befallen Goldenlix Capital.

As Y/N sat on the beach, watching the chaos unfold on her tablet, a sense of satisfaction washed over her. Finally, her carefully orchestrated plan to destroy Goldenlix Capital was playing out as intended.

The roots of her vendetta can be traced back 15 years when her family, once content in their middle-class life, had fallen victim to a deceitful investment scheme.

Flashback Start

Introduced by a relative, Y/N's father had invested a small amount in Maxim Capital, enticed by the promise of a 7% monthly profit. The regular returns had built a false sense of trust.

However, driven by greed, Y/N's father had invested half of their savings into Maxim Capital. The deceptive scheme vanished six months later, leaving the company in ruins and wiping out a significant portion of Y/N's family's hard-earned money.

As Y/N's family crumbled into financial ruin after the Maxim Capital scam, her relative, who had introduced them to the fraudulent investment, callously shrugged off any responsibility. The repercussions were severe, forcing Y/N's father to take desperate measures.

Unable to secure a traditional loan due to his plummeted credit score, Y/N's father sought assistance from a loan shark. The borrowed sum might have been small, intended for crucial medicine for Y/N's ailing mother, but its interest was exorbitant.

The loan shark in question, Nicholas Barnes, was none other than Bucky's father.

Fueled by a burning anger and a thirst for revenge, Y/N channeled her emotions into her studies, delving deep into economics to comprehend the intricacies of investments.

Her pursuit of knowledge became a double-edged sword, with academic excellence as a guise for a more sinister motive.

Even as she immersed herself in her studies, Y/N never lost sight of her plan for retribution. Every lesson about investments and financial strategies became a tool in her arsenal to orchestrate the downfall of those who had once exploited her family's vulnerabilities.

As Y/N navigated the complexities of her revenge plan, an unexpected twist unfolded in the form of Bucky. Fortune seemed to favor her, and she couldn't quite comprehend why the "Goddess of luck" appeared on her side. Bucky's growing interest in her became a peculiar element in her carefully crafted narrative.

While Y/N couldn't fathom the reasons behind Bucky's fascination, she saw it as a stroke of luck.

Y/N, cleverly using her position at Goldenlix, exploited the opportunity to gather information about the victims of the investment scams discreetly.

The guise of her role gave her access to crucial details, names, and backgrounds that would later become instrumental in executing her revenge.

In the case of Bucky, her intentions were more straightforward – to pilfer his wealth. The intricate dance of trust and vulnerability between them served as a cover for her ulterior motives.

Y/N, driven by a desire for retribution, saw Bucky's financial downfall as a key component of her revenge plan.

Their shared history of friendship only fueled Y/N's determination to make Bucky understand the anguish of misplaced trust.

Just as Nicholas had played with her father's trust, she intended to manipulate Bucky's emotions, leading him down a path of betrayal that mirrored her family's pain years ago.

Flashback End

As Y/N settled into her seat, her fingers danced across the keyboard with purpose. Each keystroke represented a meticulous calculation, determining the amount of money – with the accrued interest over 15 years – that Goldenlix Capital had pilfered from their unsuspecting victims.

With a determined click of the 'Send' button, Y/N initiated a digital cascade that would return the ill-gotten gains to those who had fallen prey to the investment scams.

Despite the years that had elapsed since their losses, she hoped this restitution would bring peace to the victims.

As Y/N gazed up at the sky, a quiet moment of reflection enveloped her. The weight of her actions, the meticulous plan for revenge, and the redemption she had sought for her family hung in the air.

She hoped, somewhere beyond the vast expanse above, that her parents would be proud of her unconventional method of reclaiming their lost money.

One year later, in the quiet embrace of a small town, a remarkable female teacher had become a beacon of inspiration at the local elementary school.

Known for her exceptional skills in teaching mathematics, she cultivated a passion for numbers among her students. She led them to triumph at the Olympic level, earning gold medals for their achievements.

The echoes of her dedication resonated through the halls of the school, leaving an indelible mark on the young minds she nurtured.

The once-sleepy town now boasted a newfound pride in its educational achievements, thanks to the remarkable teacher whose commitment and expertise had transformed the academic landscape.

The routine exchange of greetings became a familiar melody in the small town's elementary school. Every morning, as students hurried through the hallways, they would greet their beloved teacher with a cheerful, "Morning, Miss Y/N."

Y/N, now a beacon of knowledge and guidance for these young minds, responded with a warm smile, echoing, "Morning, don't run in the hallway."

"Okay."

The simple yet affectionate interactions spoke volumes about the transformation Y/N had undergone – from a seeker of revenge to a nurturing educator shaping the future

As Y/N reflected on the passing year, a bittersweet smile played on her lips. Justice had been served as the boss of Goldenlix, and Ivan faced the consequences, forced to part with his ill-gotten wealth to cover legal expenses.

However, when it came to Bucky, a twinge of regret and sadness lingered in her heart. The connection they had forged amidst the intricate dance of revenge carried a weight of impossibility. The revelation that he was the son of the loan shark, Nicholas Barnes, cast a shadow over what could have been.

Y/N, despite the passage of time, Y/N found herself haunted by a lingering fear that Bucky might seek revenge. The uncertainty gnawed at her, and she wished she could overcome the apprehension that one day, the consequences of her calculated actions might come knocking at her door.

As Y/N returned to her small home, an unsettling feeling crept over her. The once familiar space now emanated an unusual coldness. A sense of foreboding settled in, causing her to hesitate before stepping further into the house.

When she decided to leave, her hand reaching for the doorknob, she discovered a chilling truth – the door was locked outside. Panic set in as the realization dawned that she was trapped within her own home.

Fear gripped Y/N's heart as she grappled with the possibility that her past actions might be catching up to her.

A chill ran down her spine as Y/N stood trapped in her own house when the front door creaked open. The atmosphere shifted as an unwelcome presence entered, and the smile that once held warmth now appeared cold and calculated.

Bucky, who had stepped into her sanctuary, greeted her with an unsettling calmness, "Hello, sweetie. You have some explaining to do.”

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

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Hey everyone! 🌟 Your input means the world to me.

If you've got any cool ideas or prompts, whether for this fluff series or any other series, feel free to share them with me!

Just drop them in my ASK/SEND REQUEST box.

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oneforthemunny · 3 months

Text

the more that you say, the less i know |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you have the talk with eddie about his job.

contains: not really angst but not really fluff??? language. alludes towards violence or potential violence, but nothing specific mentioned.

"Can I ask you something?" You whispered, fingers tracing down a pattern of a web surrounding the black widow etched into his collar bone.

The room was thick with smoke, sweat. Eddie's cigarette burning between his fingers, the hallway light the only illumination the two of you had. Skin still slicked with sweat, clothes discarded on the floor; it was routine now. Eddie would pick you up from the bank, take you out, spoil you in lavish gifts or expensive dates, and you'd take him back here. To your place. Never his.

"What's on your mind, baby?" Eddie rasped, cool and easy, blowing out of him like the smoke that rolled through his nose.

"What, um," Your throat seemed to swell together, choking out the words you were desperate to say.

Eddie's head lolled over to you, careful and casual. Still there was a glint in his eye that you caught, even through the low light of the room, and it made you shudder. Like he knew what you were thinking, what you were going to say, like he could see right through you- maybe he could.

"What's going on, baby?" The purr in his tone, soft and calming. It almost made you want to brush it off, stuff your question down again, push it away for another time so you wouldn't ruin the moment. Ruin the softness.

His eyes were so soft when you finally met his gaze, bright and alert looking solely at you. Eddie was good at that, making you feel seen, like you were the only person in the entire world. It was one of his many magnetic qualities that kept pulling you back in, not that you gave much of a fight.

"I... I don't want to make you upset." Your stomach twisted, turned sharply, heart hammering.

Eddie's eyes didn't move, but he didn't miss the way your hands wrung, softly in your lap. "What's wrong?" He cooed, a gentle tone, wobbly and unsure. It wasn't one he was used to using, but he'd try for you.

You swallowed, bile rising, unsure of what to say. It sounded insane, the idea of it all, something out of a movie or a book, not something that should be your reality.

"You alright?" Eddie frowned, bumming the cigarette in the tray besides him. He brought his hand towards you, a gentle brush over your cheek bones. You winced at the feeling, jaw clenching. Eddie's heart sank in his stomach. "What's goin' on?"

"You... You said you worked in management." Your voice was small, filled with hesitancy.

Eddie blinked for a moment, face staying the same, unmoving from your own gaze. "Yeah." He nodded.

There was a pause, a tension so thick in the air you felt like it was crushing. "Is that-" You stopped yourself, a shuddering breath, hand still gripping and wringing around your palms. "What-What kind of management?"

Eddie exhaled slowly, pushing off the mattress slowly. Your eyes never left his, rounded and scared. You looked terrified- Why did you look terrified? Did you think he would hurt you? You were hard to read like this. Eddie was used to being unsure, used to the cryptic unknown, but not with you.

"I do all kinds of management. Management of people, mainly." Eddie said slowly, watching your face carefully. "Why? You lookin' for a job? Gonna leave the bank, baby?" He grinned, teasing, playful, a desperate attempt to lighten the mood. To get you to not ask what he knew was coming.

You didn't laugh. Lips didn't curl, and he didn't get to see that dazzling smile he hoped to. Instead, your eyes stayed low, avoiding his gaze.

"That's... That's really what you do?" You muttered, head still tipped towards your lap. "Management?"

Eddie inhaled, shoulders rolling back, slouching against your headboard. Instinct kicked in, that reserved feeling washing over him, trying to detach his emotions to you so he could threaten you. Scare you. Get you to fall into line like the others in Hawkins did.

Your eyes cut to his, rounded, scared. His heart skipped, rushed with familiar bouts of electricity, head spinning, a heat spreading from his neck to cheeks to ears.

He couldn't.

His mouth wouldn't allow it even if he wanted to. Tongue swelling thickly in his mouth, choking back every venomous word that threatened to fall.

"Why don't you ask," Eddie said calmly. "And I'll tell you what you want to know."

He knew you weren't wearing a wire, completely bare in front of him. Nothing around was out of the ordinary, he wiped his nose, casually looking out your window to see only his car on the street. The same cars of your neighbors in their driveways, he'd memorized them all by now. Knew who was at each house.

"What?" Your brows creased.

"Ask me what you want to ask, baby." Eddie said calmly. He could see the hesitance, clear on your face, scared by something someone had finally told you.

"Hey, look at me." Eddie nodded, reaching out to touch you, fingers barely grazing over your bare shoulder. You tensed under his touch and he tried to ignore the aching that filled his stomach.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, baby. C'mon." He cooed, sweet and coaxing enough to have you melting back into his touch. "I would never."

"I know." You muttered. You did know, even if the more rational side of you told you that you shouldn't. You shouldn't trust him, not after what Nancy told you.

"So just ask me." Eddie's hand rubbed over your shoulder, thumb pressing into a blossoming bite from earlier. "I can't say this is unexpected. I knew you'd have questions sooner than later."

Your eyes shot up, rounded with shock. Eddie's lips curled, it was cute, how sweet you looked. Like you'd been caught.

"You're... You're not in management, are you?" You muttered, toying with the material of your quilt, rolling the fabric between your fingers.

"I'm in management." Eddie nodded slowly. "Just not a management you're familiar with. More freelance, I guess you could say. Not like in an office like you are, sweet thing." He pulled his knees towards him, letting his arms fall over top.

You could feel his gaze on you, careful but not harsh, gentle. It was unexpected. "Right." You frowned.

"I-I heard something different." You could barely register the words coming from your own mouth, so far removed from the bedroom, that it felt like you should have just been on a different planet.

"What'd you hear?" Eddie pressed lightly.

That same silence crept back between the two of you, eerily still, your gaze meeting his. "I heard you were in the mafia." The bluntness of your tone left a finality, cutting and sharp.

A chilling realization washed over you, crashing with a reeling sensation of nausea. Eddie's brows raised, a tiny quip, before he could even stop it. Your own eyes widened, color draining from your face entirely.

You didn't think your heart could beat any faster, no it wasn't possible, yet here you were, letting it hammer mercilessly in your ears. A sitting duck in front of Eddie, you wondered how many other there had been in this position. How many others saw his face as the last they'd ever see, and if you were destined to be next?

"Hm," Eddie's tongue rolled over his teeth. You jumped at the sound, fisting the sheets. Eddie didn't move, didn't pounce on you, no goons flying in from the windows like you'd imagined in your fear stricken fantasies. He stayed calm, relaxed even.

"Well, that's... that's the easy answer, I guess." Eddie nodded slowly. "That's one way you could describe it."

"So, it's-it's real?" You babbled stupidly. "That's real? You're-You're in the mafia?" A wobble in your tone that made you cringe.

"Well, not, like, the mafia." Eddie snorted lightly. "Not like The Godfather type mafia, but not not that. A, uh, a smaller scale. We- I work with some different stuff." His eyes met yours. "Do some different things."

"Like what?" You whispered. Why were you whispering? Your mind raced, head spinning. This was a dream, it had to be. It certainly felt like a dream.

Eddie's lips curled, just soft enough to have your heart fluttering, flustered in a whirlpool of heat and emotions.

"Told you, it's management. I wasn't lying about that. People management, money management," Eddie paused, finger drumming against his knee cap. "Other stuff." You fought back a shudder.

"I... I don't-" You swallowed, though your mouth was incredibly dry.

"Let me talk for a second." Eddie said, a commanding tone in his voice you weren't familiar with. It startled you, and you weren't sure why you were aching down to your core.

An inked hand skated across your sheets, and for the first time you saw the rows of skulls across his knuckles when it grabbed yours. "I don't know what you've heard, or what you've been told, and I don't want to know. I don't really give a shit about what other people say about me, but I do care about what you think about me." Eddie's fingers intertwined with yours, holding your clammy hand in his.

"I-I don't do this. I don't date, and I definitely don't talk about this kinda shit with people I don't work with." Eddie muttered. You could feel his own sweaty palms, squeezing your hand lightly.

You weren't sure what to say, that you could even speak if you wanted to say anything at all. So you stayed still, stayed quiet.

"But I meant what I said. I'm not... I don't want you to be scared of me or anything." His eyes met yours softly. "I won't hurt you. Wouldn't've started this with you if I didn't... if I didn't want something serious along the way."

You swallowed. "Why?"

"Why?" Eddie repeated. "Why what, sweetheart?"

"Why... Why do you do this?" Your voice dropped into that hushed tone, like you were scared to speak too loudly, you wanted to keep it between you. Eddie's heart swelled, the sincerity in an action he wasn't even sure you knew you were doing.

"It's all I've ever known." Eddie admitted softly. In the darkness of your room, he'd never felt more seen, more exposed under your soft eyes. "Everybody's gotta make it somehow, baby. This... This is what I had to do."

"And," Your fingers wiggled in his grasp, squeezing his hand nervously. "You wanted to do this? You're happy doing this?"

"I'm not... I'm not like some fucking sick monster, ok?" Eddie huffed, more defensive than he would have liked. "I don't enjoy when I have to do certain shit, but..." His knee bounced, eyes flickering back over towards his cigarette.

"The women's shelter down the street from where you work, you know the one?" Eddie asked. You nodded slowly. "They didn't have hot water for a month last spring. City wasn't going to do anything about it, they didn't fuckin' care until I made them fuckin' care." You watched him carefully. "Couldn't have done that if I had a normal job, could I?"

You shook your head lightly, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip nervously. "Point I'm trying to make here, baby, is..." Eddie took a deep breath in, free hand cradling your jaw gently, pinning you under his gaze. "I'm not just wreaking havoc around here for no fuckin' reason. I don't fuck with anyone unless they fuck with me and I have to, alright? That's just how the business goes. That's management."

"But I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it. That's not what this is. That's where those movies got shit wrong, alright? It's not all like that." Eddie shook his head with an eye roll.

"You want me to be honest? Most of the time, it's boring. A lot of planning and moving shit around, making sure it's where it's supposed to be. It's organized crime, baby, not nearly the chaos that Hollywood wants it to be."

You hesitated. "It's not?"

"No," Eddie rolled his eyes. "I mean, you gotta be careful and stuff, but it's not like every single day you're having a shoot off with a rival gang or some shit. Not all horse heads and explosions, most of the time it's just planning shit. Managing people and things, and making sure it's where it's supposed to be with no issues." You didn't dare ask what the 'it' of the matter was, not now anyways.

"I just," You swallowed, taking a deep breath in. "I thought because you-you're always so... alert."

"Yeah, well, I'm not going to be stupid." Eddie scoffed lightly, the playfulness in his tone returning. "You should be more alert. More aware of your surroundings. How long did it take you to realize?"

"Realize what?" You frowned.

"Realize you were going out with a guy in management." Eddie smirked, picking his cigarette back up.

You blushed, picking at the sheet again. "I had a feeling after the fourth date." You admitted. "Not that it was that. Just that... I don't know. I knew it was something. I asked around and... someone told me."

Eddie knew it was Nancy, but he respected how you tried to play it off. Play it safe, that you were protective of your friend.

"So..." Eddie's fingers drummed on his knee. "Anymore questions?"

You shook your head, thumb brushing over his knuckles, lightly over the inked skin.

"I got one for you." Eddie hummed, squeezing your hand lightly, blowing the smoke towards the window. Your eyes lifted towards him. "You want to go to my place?"

"Your place?" You asked, stilling.

"Yeah, I mean, now that you know, I can show you my place. Don't have to explain why there's security and it's out in the middle of nowhere." Eddie smirked. "I have dogs too."

"You have dogs?" You asked, eyes lighting up. "You didn't tell me that."

"No, I knew you'd want to meet them." Eddie grinned.

"How many?" You tilted your head sweetly to the side.

"Four." Eddie beamed. "You'll like them. They'll like you."

"You're just full of secrets, aren't you?" You hummed, lazily holding his hand in yours, fingers curling around the other.

Eddie blew a last drag of smoke out of his mouth, letting the cigarette dwindle away in the tray. "You want to come?"

"Is this your way of luring me away so you can sink me in the river?" You laughed, nervously, like you weren't entirely joking.

"C'mon," Eddie shook his head lightly. "Don't play like that. I just wanna show you my place."

You looked a little anxious, torn. "Truth? I want you to come over so I can show you where I live." Eddie cooed, hands sliding down your arms sweetly. "And... honestly? I can't do the twin bed again tonight, babe, I'm sorry. It kills my neck."

You gaped, shoving him lightly. "What's wrong with my bed?"

"Nothing. You know I never complain." Eddie grinned. "Just a little cramped for the two of us. I've got a bigger bed. You can spread out more."

"Oh? You're just taking me to see your bed?" You teased, grabbing your discarded shirt off the floor.

"No, I'll let you see the whole house of horrors." Eddie smirked, eyeing you as you bent over to grab your pajama bottoms. "But you can definitely see my bed if you want to."

You hummed, stepping back towards him. His hand caught your waist, pulling you nearly on top of him, noses brushing. He needed to see you, see your eyes, know what you were feeling, thinking.

"You trust me?" Eddie whispered, long lashes batting. Your heart swelled, and for a moment, you were sure he could convince you to do anything if it meant he'd stay looking at you so sweetly, so fondly.

You hesitated for a moment, nodding slowly. Nancy never said he was mean or cruel, only what he did for work. You knew she would have told you earlier, long before you asked if he was.

It was just a job, you told yourself, letting him sway you. Let him consume all your fears with a feverish kiss, hands pressing into your spine, pushing you closer and closer to him.

He held the passenger door open for you, letting you slip inside. Your street was quiet, still with neighbors who's long gone to sleep. Eddie held your hand in his on the drive, thumb brushing over your knuckles, stealing small sideways glances at you. You trusted him, let him drive you into the unknown, through the dark, together.

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oizysian · 2 months

Text

Part II: Daddy Issues

I Set the World on Fire masterlist

Warnings: non-con touching, talk of sex, slapping

Word count: 2.3k

My breath was shaky as we exited the car, my hearing and smell the only senses I could rely on. The blindfold that covered my eyes soaked up my tears, my hands were tied behind my back and my footsteps were tentative as I walked with the woman who had kidnapped me. She had a tight grip on my arm as she led me along and I tried my damndest to pick up some sort of clues with my remaining senses.

Leaves crunched beneath my feet as we walked and the air smelt crisp. The only sound to be heard was birds chirping and our footsteps, so I had nothing to go on to identify where I was.

We stopped and I heard the sound of a large door opening, creaking with effort and age.

“Let’s go.” The woman said and gave me a nudge, and I started walking again.

The crunching of leaves changed to clicking of heels as we entered. There were multiple people now and it felt as though we were walking forever when I heard another door open and then close behind us after we entered.

“Now what do we have here?” The voice was smooth and sensual and it sent a tingling down my spine.

“Surprise! How’d I do, Natasha? Delivered with no damage.” The woman next to me said and I scoffed, inching away from her. “Don’t worry, she’s friendly - not trained, but friendly.”

“Fuck you.” I spat and I heard the women laughing.

“She’s a real charmer,” the other woman commented, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Take the blindfold off of her.”

The blonde woman sighed and did as she was told, removing the blindfold and stuffing it in her back pocket. I squinted at the sudden brightness of the room, trying to make out the image in front of me.

A woman - a very beautiful woman - sat on a very expensive looking couch, lounging in a pencil skirt and a button up shirt that showed way too much cleavage. My heart sped up at the sight of her, fear overtaking me for the most part, but I couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t attractive.

“You’re even prettier in person.” She said softly, getting up from where she was sitting and approaching us.

She ran one of her long fingers down the side of my face, then grabbed my chin gently and tilted my head from side to side so she could see all of me.

“Exquisite.”

“What do you want?” I finally voiced, trembling in her powerful presence.

“Leave us.” She looked at the blonde from over my shoulder and when she didn’t move, the woman spoke again. “Yelena. I’ll call for you when I’m done. Go.”

I heard her huff from behind me and she walked out with whoever else accompanied us. Once the door slammed shut, the redheaded woman looked me over once more, a hunger in her gaze.

“Just beautiful.”

“What do you want from me?” My voice wavered, my breath getting caught in my throat.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

I shook my head.

“Revenge.”

I backed away from her, almost losing my footing as I attempted to escape. I made it to the door and banged on it with my shoulder, feebly trying to break it down. I could hear her laughing and I did my best not to cry as I realized I was completely trapped - there was no escape.

“Maybe it would help if I untied you.” She teased and I grunted, slumping against the door as she approached me. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I looked up at her, my bottom lip trembling as I accepted my defeat.

She helped me to my feet and smiled.

“Let me start again. I’m Natasha Romanoff.”

I stayed silent. This woman had me kidnapped and was now trying to be my friend?

“And you’re Y/N.”

I panted softly as she spoke, my eyes hard with defiance.

“Lena was right. Not trained at all.”

“I’m not a dog.” I snapped and she laughed.

“No, but that’s how you’ve been treated, isn’t it?”

Her words hurt and I’m sure it was very visible on my face that she had hit a sore spot. She cupped my cheek, lifting my head up to look her in her eyes.

“I won’t treat you like she did.” She stroked my cheek with her thumb. “I’ll give you the world.”

“You’re a monster.” I said, trembling.

She blinked at me, her breathing heavy.

“You want to see a monster?”

Fear shined in my eyes at her words.

“I can show you a monster.” She said, turning me around so my face was pressed against the door. “Let me demonstrate,” she said, pausing to grab at my hips and tug down my pants. “How a monster gets what they want.”

I screamed, wriggling under her weight as she held me down, her hand threading through my hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging on it.

“Monsters just take.” She hissed in my ear, giving my ass a slap before running her hand along the swell of it. “If I want this,” she grabbed at me and I cried out in pain. “I’ll just take it. That’s what a monster does.”

“Please!” I squirmed under her, unable to control my body’s reaction to her. “Stop!”

“A monster,” she continued. “Wouldn’t ask for your consent. A monster doesn’t listen to ‘stop’.” She brought her lips to my ear and panted softly against it, her breasts pressed up against my back. “A monster would rip your panties off and stuff three fingers inside your cunt whether you wanted it or not.”

She brought her hand around to cup my sex, undoubtedly feeling the heat through my panties.

“You like monsters, don’t you?”

I shook my head, tears still cascading down my cheeks.

“Oh no?” She pressed her hand against me and I jerked back into her, my ass grinding into her crotch. “You’re telling me no, but your body is screaming yes.”

I thrashed underneath her, no matter how I moved I was pressing myself against her. I couldn’t escape and I couldn’t control myself. I bit my lip and tried to control my breathing as her hand released my hair, but trailed down to the nape of my neck, grabbing me and holding me against the door.

“You’re wet for me. How would Wanda feel seeing you like this?”

“Fuck you!” I screamed and she let out a soft chuckle.

“Take a look over there, printsessa.” She directed my gaze over to a video camera that was set up in the corner of the room, watching us, following our every move. “I’m gonna send Wanda this video and she’s gonna hear you cumming for me over and over and -”

“You bitch! Wanda!” I sobbed, still struggling against her.

“I’m not a bitch. I’m a monster, remember?”

I could feel the ropes burning my skin as I struggled, my legs spread apart and shaking as I tried to keep myself standing.

“And if I can do this to you,” she snarled. “Imagine what I can do to Wanda.”

“No, please!” I cried. “Don’t hurt her!”

I stopped moving against her, and she let me go. I slid down the door and fell in a heap at her feet, still crying softly.

“What do you want me to do?”

She knelt down next to me, brushing the hair from my face gently.

“Give in to me. That’s all you need to do.”

•

Several Days Later

“You bitch! Wanda!”

Wanda gritted her teeth as she watched the video sent to her of Y/N, visibly shaking with rage.

“No, please! Don’t hurt her!”

Her heart broke as she listened to her plead for her safety. She had been such a bitch to her and here she was sacrificing herself to protect her.

“Find that Romanoff bitch.” Wanda said to Dimitri, her voice low and dangerous. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Do you think that’s wise, Wanda?” He spoke to her softly, gently.

“She has Y/N!” She yelled as she stood from her desk, barely holding back from the temptation of destroying everything in the room out of white hot rage.

“Exactly, she has Y/N. We’re at a disadvantage. We should see what she wants.” Leo suggested and Wanda stared daggers at him.

“She wouldn’t have gotten to Y/N if you were doing your goddamn job!”

Dimitri gave Leo a look, one that Wanda did not fail to miss, and sat back down in her chair, rubbing her face with her hands.

“I don’t care what she wants - whatever she wants she can have it.” Her breath hitched. “I just need Y/N back.”

“We’ll get her back.” Dimitri spoke with determination in his voice.

“Go.” She said softly, not even bothering to raise her head. “I don’t want to see either of you again until you have some news for me.”

Leo turned and left without a word, but Dimitri lingered, clearly having something on his mind.

“I said go, Dimitri.” She said as she finally looked up at him and she saw the odd look on his face, nearly causing her to go pale.

“Wanda …” he started and she interrupted him before he could finish.

“You know something, don’t you?”

•

“No more tears, printsessa,” she cooed softly, stroking her thumb along my lower lip. “She’s not coming for you.”

I jerked my head away from her, still unable to believe that.

“That’s not true.” I whimpered softly, sniffling as she grabbed hold of my face again so I would look at her.

“She’s not coming. So open that pretty mouth for daddy. Just like before.”

Defeated, I opened my mouth and she slid her fingers inside. I wrapped my lips around the intrusive digits, my tongue swirling along the length of them, just like she showed me.

“That’s my good girl.” She purred, stroking my hair with her free hand. “Get them nice and wet.”

Tears trailed down my cheeks as I sucked on her fingers, my mind wandering as I did as I was told. What if Wanda wasn’t coming for me? What if she didn’t care and did leave me here with Natasha?

She pulled her fingers out of my mouth and before I could react, she slapped me across the face, knocking me back onto the bed.

“Stay with me, printsessa. I want you here with me.”

“Yes, daddy.” I cried, scrambling to my knees so I could ask for her forgiveness.

I hated giving into her, but I didn’t have a choice. It was either me or Wanda and I didn’t want to imagine what she’d do if she got her hands on her.

I would daydream that Wanda would come for me, get me out of this hell and we could be together again. But, she hasn’t come yet, and I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve been trapped here with Natasha.

Days blended with nights and now I wasn’t sure what time or what day it was. She kept me in a darkened bedroom with no windows, and I wasn’t allowed to leave the room under any circumstances. I was a prisoner and she made sure I knew it when I acted out of line. But when I was good, she treated me more like an equal; letting me feed myself, not being tied to the bed, and being allowed to go to the bathroom by myself.

So, more often than not, I obeyed her, let her have me in all the ways she wanted me just to hurt Wanda. It wasn’t always entirely unpleasant. Some nights she was gentle with me, and some nights she just wanted me to cum to hurt Wanda. I fought her so many times, struggling against my body to not cum for her, but I couldn’t control myself and every night she won.

Natasha was an incredibly powerful woman, and everyone she surrounded herself with knew it and respected her. To me, she was just a monster. She didn’t feel, she didn’t love, she just wanted and took. I didn’t know what she wanted from Wanda, and I couldn’t imagine what she could’ve done to this woman to have her go to these lengths to torture her.

Was she even suffering? Did she even care about what was happening to me?

She reached behind me and slapped my ass hard, causing me to fall face first into her, her other hand steadying me before I toppled us both over.

“This will be easier for you once you stop thinking about her. She doesn’t care about you.”

“Stop.” I cried, rubbing my face against the softness of her shirt.

“She doesn’t care like I do. I’ve taken care of you - fed you, bathed you - I’ve even made you cum.”

“Stop it.” I sobbed against her.

She stroked my hair gently, almost soothingly.

“She gave you to me. You’re mine now. She doesn’t care about you.”

I knew she was saying these things to test me, to see if I’ll disobey her and be defiant, but I didn’t have the strength. I was completely drained of everything. It was beginning to seem real, the fact that Wanda gave me to Natasha. The reality that I would have to live like this forever and that this was my life now began to sink in.

I cried, my tears soaking into the fabric of her expensive shirt. She shushed me softly, brushing the hair back from my flushed face.

“Once you give in to me completely, things will get easier for you here, I promise.”

She knew I would give in, it was only a matter of time. I didn’t know what she wanted from Wanda, but it was clear that Wanda wasn’t willing to trade it away for me, and I belonged to Natasha.

“Yes, daddy,” I whispered, taking her hand in mine and bringing it up to my face, rubbing my cheek against her palm. “I’m yours.”

“Say it once more for daddy.”

I looked up into her darkened eyes, swallowing roughly as I pushed back the tears that threatened to fall once again.

“I’m yours.”

•

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