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neonovember · 2 years

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Lemon meringues

steve rogers mafia!au

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

a/n: this is the first instalment of a series, I honestly don't know how long it will be, but ill try to update every week!

Your hand reaches to grab the disregarded ceramic mugs perched at the middle of the wooden table, deep mahogany coffee stains the edges of the porcelain mugs and the crumbs of David’s famous croissant litter the table.

“All done here?” You smile, your arm balancing a plate of waffles and toast, you hope to god that they’ll just leave you be, your shift has just begun and the way your back ached had you wishing you’d crawled back under the covers, angry landlord and manager be damned.

The faces of the men that sat nodded, eyes not leaving each other as if you weren't even there. Each of them had the same scruffy 7-day stubble as if they had all collectively chosen to throw out their razors. Trucker caps fitted tightly and flannel shirts peeked through large navy jackets buttoned tight against the harsh July cold. The weather here could get brutal, you’d learned that your first winter with frozen pipes and a heater that spoke only puffs of grey smoke.

They show no action of gratitude, but they don't unnecessarily incapacitate you either, exactly how you like it. Nodding you make your rounds to the other tables, wiping down any remnants of spilt drinks and crumbs from the diner tables and booths. It labourers work, but it's still work. And you don't know what would happen if you lost that measly laughable income you earned from waitressing.

As long as you were far and between from him, you kept reminding yourself, every chime of the diner door opening had your hairs bristling and your stomach in twists, he’d never find you here, he couldn’t, you’d made sure of it. Hell, you’d erased your entire life, left it all behind, he couldn't hurt you now. At least that's what you told yourself.

The white-hot fear still slips down your spine whenever you see a familiar shirt he’d wear though, or a voice that sounded like him when he was mad, or the sound of boots behind you, or- god you’d be in therapy if it didn’t cost you a limb.

The soft downpour outside provided a melodic track to your routine, the sea of blue and navy umbrellas moving in unison to escape the rain. The sound of it put you at ease, you've always loved the rain, the way it slid down your face and washed away all the fears you carried. The smell of the earth after it rained, steam rising from the dirt and roads was something you've come to appreciate.

It was the only things you could, the small things, things that had been taken from you, berated and crushed within his iron grip.

“Why are you wasting time smelling the flowers?”

His voice soon followed your every thought, every move, every desire. As if your mind was asking permission- “Please?”.

You forgot what it felt like to live within a body that was fully yours, and not pinned up with strings that were in his grasp. Now you could stop and raise your face to the sky and let the droplets pepper your skin without fearing the downpour of his anger.

“You silly girl, you silly stupid girl”

Well, at least the one that isn't in your head.

The snap of diner door opens abruptly, slamming against the wall, as an umbrella pops through, your neck bristles with fear, shoulders tense and eyebrows furrowed.

Please no

It's a man, donning a deep maroon velvet coat, the buttons fitted and the material stretched against his chest. His golden locs were smoothed back, a scruff that seemed purposeful lining his jaw, the water from his umbrella runs down its rooves and ridges, gathering at his feet and seeping into the laminate floor. It doesn't matter, it isn’t him.

You quickly dust off your apron, gathering your rags before popping them under the compartment behind the till, the man is perusing through the collection of pastries and breakfast sandwiches displayed in the clear case.

“The lemon meringue is to die for,” You say, smiling at his indecision, You had many like him come in, overwhelmed with the many selections and flavours, not knowing where to begin.

He looks up quickly, eyes racking over your face, his cerulean blues darken for a moment, before a smile cracks over his features.

“That obvious?” He jokes, hands tucked into the pocket of his coat.

“Don’t worry about it, everybody has a first time at something” You reply, fingers wringing as you smile. His gorgeous up close, the kind of features that were clean-cut and old-fashioned. Like he didn't need to try so hard to capture anyone's attention, soft lips curl up as he notices your intense stare, and you quickly shake off your borderline stalker-ish ways.

“Well, in that case, I’ll get the meringue and a club special,” He says, hands coming up to brush through his golden locks dirtied by the rain.

You ring his order through the till, fingers almost missing the keys as you hurry to have him seated, he always hated being waited on, there were countless times when his lack of patience and your tardiness left you bruised and bloody.

The man reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a deep leather wallet, it reminds you of your father and it has you smiling softly. He hands you a hundred-dollar bill, and when you try to hand back his change he stops you with his hands quickly.

The feeling of the rough pads of his fingers shoots an intensity up your arm like you've been shocked and you pull your hand away quickly. The man stares intently at your hands, eyes surveying your frame as he rests them on your face.

“Keep the change..I’m sure” He finally says, hands back in his pocket only this time in tight fists.

You thank him generously, tucking the rolls into your side, tips never seemed to cover enough of your pay, and you think this man may have saved you from sleeping outside.

He doesn't say much, just nods, the same darkened look covering his features as he slides into a corner booth, the downpour above sheathed the morning sky in a deep dark navy. Causing the diner to be cloaked in a shadowed darkness as if it were evening instead of noon. The only thing providing light was the soft yellow overhanging ceiling lamp. It gave it a romantic feel that covered his features in a soft glow, and for some strange reason, you had the urge to know what his beard would feel like between your fingers.

Walking urgently back to the counter, you hand up the man's order for David, indiscretidely asking him to give him extra helpings. You carefully slice a cut of the meringue onto one of the ceramic plates, cleaning the edges and keeping it chilled.

David calls your name, motioning towards the finished sandwich that looked like if you didn't walk carefully it would topple over and onto the floor.

David winks at you, his jet-black hair pulled into a tight bun, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling as he takes notice of your ulterior motive.

“When were ya gonna tell me about lover boy?” David teases, chin resting on his arms.

“Cmon David, he just gave me a good tip” You scoff humourselly, him? He wouldn't even look at you that way. You knew his type the moment you caught a glimpse of his goddamn cufflinks, besides, the rings adorning his fingers etched with the unmistakable A, told you he was in a business you wanted no part of. You weren't bout to jump into a relationship after just escaping your last, no, you definitely were not ready for that.

Yet a strange filling crept through your stomach, and it had you taking glances at his crouched figure in the booth, he was tall enough to the point where you could see the tussles of his golden locks, now dried and mused.

Snapping out of your stupor, you go to reach for his meal before another hand reaches for it, what is it today and people's hands? Chipped red nail polish and rubbery lips meet your gaze as Caroline smiles up at you.

“Mare’s asking if you could clean up the puddle in front of the diner door, says it’s quote on quote a cleaning hazard” Caroline rolls her eyes, tongue clicking as she shakes her head

“If she cared that much about following protocol she’d pay us a goddamn living wage” Caroline mutters loud enough for yout o hear, cautious of your domineering manager's watchful gaze.

You snicker, reaching for the mop at the corner of the diner,

“Who that?” Caroline says, motioning towards the golden-haired man with her chin, curiosity filling her eyes.

“That, is your customer, who just ordered a meringue and sandwich because of yours truly” You reply, eyes finding their way back to him.

Caroline nods, reaching for the meringue in the fridge,

“He even tipped me like over eighty bucks” You whisper, the reality of it still shocking you

Caroline swiftly turns to you at that, her dark auburn plaits whipping across her chest at her movements

“No shit? Cute and a gentleman, if there is one person in this god-forsaken place who deserves it it’s you” Caroline retorts, a smile lifting her lips.

You shake your head, reaching for the notes tucked in your pocket, Caroline had been your one and only friend besides David, you could count a handful of time’s when she had let you crash at her place or borrow money to tide your landlord over the next month.

It was your duty to give something back.

Caroline stops you gently, pushing the notes into your pocket before she grins gingerly

“Don’t you dare” Caroline begins, eyes darting across to the man in the booth,

“But, you can't possibly expect me not to pay you back” You begin, eyes burrowing as you try again, to hand her over a chunk of the money.

“You need it more than I do, besides you know the saying “reject the present to receive more in the future” Caroline sing songs, you shake your head laughing

“I don't think that’s quite how it goes, in fact, I'm pretty sure you made that up on the spot” You giggle, before pushing her out of the kitchen.

“You're too good for this rotten place sugar, you outta start taking things for yourself, before the world comes and swallows you whole” She replies, not sparing you a glance before navigating through the many red booths.

Her voice echoes in your mind as you clean up the murky water near the front door, watching as the brown liquid on against the laminated floor turns into a clean yellow that came with age and poor maintenance.

You serve half a dozen more customers before Caroline strolls towards you, a hidden smirk on her face with the man’s finished plates.

“What?” You reply, rolling your eyes, wiping down the counter, you always seemed to find yourself cleaning.

“Golden boy asked for you” She’s gone into a full toothy smile now, head lulling to the side as she teases you.

He asked for you? Why would he do that? Maybe he were asking for that tip back, reconciling that you weren't worth it. It wouldn’t be the first time

“Huh? What do you mean?” You cautiously answer Adi, aware of her ability to dramatise quite literally everything that happened between these walls.

“I mean, he asked why you didn’t come and give him his food. Said he was hoping that he could ask you something” She replies eyebrows wiggling playfully, knocking her hips to yours as she purred.

“I see how you play girl, just make him a regular customer why don’t you, I'm sure after the first taste he'll be coming back for more.” She laughed at you widened expression, you winced at her insinuations, you started to believe she wanted you to get laid more than you did yourself.

“Here, he left this” She replied, reaching into her pocket, and pulling out a ruffled tissue, you're expecting a message or a scribble of numbers, yet instead what meets your eye has your heart in your stomach and your fingers gripping your apron.

There written in black ink, is your husband's name, along with a number and one single word.

“I know what you did”.

Fuck.

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ramp-it-up · 1 year

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Try a Little Tenderness

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 3.7 K

Summary: Steve can’t win you with presents. He’s got to try a little tenderness.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Pining, flirting, organized crime, implied ice skating, teasing, former jerky boyfiend, inexperienced reader, nipple play, oral (both receiving) p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, crying during sex, violence (due to mob world).

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

“Good morning, Steve!”

You were stocking onions, but you looked up and smiled as the tall blond entered the store, setting off the bell. He was well built and handsome and wearing a fine wool coat with a red scarf. It was a cool December, but New York had not yet had its first big snowfall.

“Mornin’, Ambrosia,” came his gruff response.

You kind of liked his early morning voice. And the nickname. The first time he came in, he’d picked up an apple, already biting into it but also already paying. He handed you a twenty and said, “Mmmmm, Name?”, pointing to you with the apple. Flustered, you replied with the name of the apple instead of your name and the rest was history.

This morning, Steve smiled at you and his blue eyes were sparkling. They always sparkled when he looked at you. He seemed very sweet.

“The usual.”

You laughed and went behind the counter to wash your hands.

“Of course, already had the fixin’s set up for you.”

You started the water for the espresso and got out the fresh everything bagels you’d put aside for him. Steve was one of your best customers, coming in every morning, and several evenings. He’d been coming in for about four months now.

Steve settled at the counter and watched you prepare his food. He looked at his watch: 7:42 am. He knew you'd been at work almost two hours now and that you were working very hard. One of your braids had come undone from your bun, and he wanted to put it back, but he didn’t touch you. You wore no makeup, yet your skin always glowed, and when you looked up at him, his heart nearly stopped.

You were naturally beautiful. And your apron did not hide your curves. Or the fact that you were wearing the same pants that you’d worn three days ago. Steve figured that you didn’t have many clothes. He had the urge to take you shopping on Madison Avenue and let you go crazy. But somehow he knew you would never blow a load of cash on clothing. And that’s part of why he was so far gone on you.

He watched you battle your espresso machine with bemusement.

“Why haven’t you set up your new machine yet?”

You stopped and put your hands on your hips, looking so cute that Steve restrained himself from jumping over the counter.

“Is that from you?” You shook your head. “I suspected it.”

Steve had unexpectedly given you many gifts, the espresso machine, a cash register. He’d even tried to have a new walk in cooler installed. You refused and sent back everything he’d sent. It wasn’t right. He barely knew you.

You wondered what he did for a living, always dressed in the finest and able to afford multiple thousand dollar gifts. You figured that he was one of those Angel investors. Well, he wasn’t very good at being anonymous.

You watched as Steve gave you a lopsided grin, then leaned over the counter toward him.

“Listen. Steve. Mr. Rogers.”

You looked from his eyes, to his perfect lips, to his golden St. Christopher’s medal. He smelled so damn good. You bit your lip and Steve smiled, warmed by your proximity. This was his chance.

“Yeah, Ambrosia?”

“I’m not taking your gifts.”

You straightened up abruptly, handed him his drinks and finished his order. You gave him two folded newspapers.

“One Daily News for your friend and one News Day for you.”

“Have you thought about it yet?”

You raised your eyebrow at him.

“About what?”

You thought he was finally going to ask you on a date. You knew the main reason he came in was to check you out. But you weren’t about to be bought.

“About the possibility of getting The Times in here? Alright, the Sunday Times at least.”

“Sorry Steve, it doesn’t sell. If it doesn’t sell, I don’t order. Can’t afford a non starter. But I do subscribe to the Sunday Times myself for the crossword. You can borrow mine any time.”

You winked at him. Something about Steve brought out your inner flirt.

Steve wanted to say something about sharing the Sunday Times in bed, but he thought better of it. Any other girl, and he would have been able to spit all kinds of game. But with you, he was tongue tied.

Steve sipped his coffee and shook his head as you gave him his bag.

“You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

You waved at him as he stood up.

“Have a great day!”

Steve chuckled at your dismissal as he walked out of the door. Bucky was waiting by the car. Steve handed him his cup and sandwich.

“Send Sam to pick up the espresso machine.”

“Still a tough nut, eh?”

“Yeah. She’s still refusing gifts…”

Steve got in the passenger seat while Bucky sat behind the wheel.

“Instead of giving her all of this expensive shit, why don’t you just be nice to her?Ask her out ice skating or something.”

Steve scoffed. He didn’t know how to ask a girl out anymore. He felt like that scrawny kid running around with Bucky back in the day. Now, women were always clawing at each other to get to him. And they always wanted something.

Steve didn’t respond to Bucky, just asked about his calendar.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Buck?”

“We gotta meet with the truckers today. They don’t want to bend to our terms.” Steve put on his sunglasses.

“We know what to do to make ‘em bend, don't we Buck?”

“Sure do, buddy.”

You were in your walk up apartment above the store halfway listening to the 10 o’clock news. They were doing a story about an explosion at the Eatern Tri-State Trucking hub in Bay Ridge as you put your body oil on after your shower. The reporter indicated that authorities thought that the Valkyrie crime organization was behind it. You were zoning out looking forward to the next day.

You were glad that Janie and Nate would be back at work tomorrow. Nate had just taken a week off, and Janie had recovered from the flu. You were going to take the next afternoon off. You could have taken the entire day, but you wanted to open up for some reason.

Running an organic bodega in Brooklyn was a tough job, but the business was growing, but it was even tougher when your help was not there. You deserved a bit of a break.

The next morning, you were humming an Otis Redding song when Steve came in. You looked over your shoulder and caught him looking at your ass.

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers.”

“Mornin’ Ambrosia.”

“The usual?”

Steve wanted to say no, I want to ask you to marry me, but that might be a little too forward.

“Yeah.”

He sat down at the counter and noticed that you had on something brand new. When you turned around, he gestured to your outfit.

“What’s the occasion?”

You looked down and then grinned.

“This outfit is my Christmas present to myself. I’m taking the afternoon off and I’m going into the city to go to the Central Public Library.”

Steve tried to respect your glee. But he had to do it.

“How thrilling.”

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch, “ you quipped.

Steve laughed at you. He thought about what Bucky said the day before.

“Grinch hunh. Well, would a Grinch offer to take you ice skating instead?”

You turned around and leaned on the counter. Steve leaned toward you.

“I don’t know. Are you offering, Mr. Grinch?”

You loved teasing him. Steve groaned.

“C’mon. I’m trying here. Ambrosia. Do you want to go ice skating with me in the city this afternoon? And to dinner afterward.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Steve was very close to you now, staring at your lips.

“Yes.”

You stood up and put your hands on your hips.

“It’s about time. Sure!”

Steve laughed at how easy it was. You shoved his order into his hands.

“Pick me up at 1.”

Steve was grinning like an idiot out at the car, and didn't know how he got there.

“So you finally asked her out, hunh?”

Steve snapped out of it as he got in the passenger seat.

“Move the talks up to 10. I’m taking the afternoon off.”

“Rumlow is stalling. I can handle it this evening.”

“You sure?”

Bucky looked at his best friend.

“Sure as shootin’.”

You and Steve had a great afternoon, and Steve thought that ice skating was genius. He had to thank Bucky. You had to hold hands to stay steady, and when he pulled you in close, you didn’t pull back so you could stay warm. He didn’t know that you were thinking the same things.

Steve got to treat you to Via Carota and you two walked right in. The food was great, the wine was amazing, and you even stole a kiss in your corner booth. The night was perfect.

He drove you back to your place and you sat in the car for a minute. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and you were the one to make the first move with the kiss. You looked at him quizzicaly.

“Can I ask you something, Steve?”

“Yes, Ambrosia, anything.”

“After today, this afternoon and tonight. Do you still like me?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course. Why do you ask?”

You looked down.

“Well, you’ve been such a gentleman. I see how you look at me, all hungry all the time. And the gifts. I don’t know. I just thought you’d be. You know. More…”

“Aggressive?” Steve responded.

“Well. yeah. I just thought.”

You looked back up and saw that Steve’s eyes had darkened.

“I am not a gentle man in my everyday life, Ambrosia. And I know that I can come on strong. But you make me want to be tender with you. I want to cherish you.”

“Oh.”

And Steve pulled you in for a sweet, but sexy kiss.

“So, yes, I still like you. And I have very aggressive thoughts about you. Want to ruin you in fact. But I want to do it carefully. Make you feel it. And make you glad you did.”

“Oh. No one has ever…damn, Steve.”

He recognized that you had been hurt.

“Here’s an aggressive question. What kind of an asshole would make you feel that way about yourself? His name is all I need.”

You laughed.

“Do you want to come up for the answer?” You cocked your head at him as he chuckled and nodded.

“Yes.”

When you got up to your place, you were settled with a glass of wine on your couch.

“I’m not going to give you his name, but I will tell you that we were together for a few months, and we only did it a few times. He’s the only one I’ve ever been with.”

The way you looked as him made Steve’s heart soft, but other things hard.

“It…It didn’t feel good. He said I was frigid and too small. I… I went to the doctor and everything. She said I was fine physically. So I figured it must have been in my mind and I haven’t been able to get out of my head after that. He broke it off and then I just decided to focus on work.”

You peered at Steve to see his reaction.

Steve’s eyes flashed with anger, then cooled.

“That joker is a fucking idiot.”

His eyes traced your body.

“He didn’t know what to do with all this?”

Steve reached for you and kissed you, this time with undeniable passion. You broke away and stood up, offering him your hand.

“Show me, Steve.”

He stood up and followed you to your bedroom.

You stood at the foot of the bed and reached up to kiss Steve, and he picked you up and sat down, sitting you down with both of your legs over his. You made out like this, Steve’s hands still in neutral places until you whined and scooted closer to him.

Then, he went under your sweater, finding your nipple in your bra and brushing it with his thumb. He was exhibiting intense will power, but he couldn’t hold it all back as you responded to his passionate kisses.

Steve lifted your sweater off and your tank top, which was underneath, with it. Your bra contained your breasts, but your nipples were erect and straining against the material. He brought your body towards his for a kiss, his thick fingers pressing and playing with your sensitive buttons. He had you squirming on his lap as he reached around and expertly unfastened your bra.

He looked down at you and then back up, eyes hungry. You’d been yearning for that look.

“I’m gonna cherish this moment, get you ready for me, Baby. You’re gonna feel so good.”

He was weighing and kneading your breast and tenderly flicking your nipple, then he leaned down and kissed you, moving down your neck and collarbone, descending your chest and kissing all around your areolas, teasing your stiff nipples.

He had you moaning and writhing, wanting some friction for your cunt.

“Patience, Baby. You’re gonna get everything you deserve. Including this.”

Steve moved your hand to the hard member in his pants, which you tried to grip in vain through his slacks. You whimpered in frustration.

“I know. I know. I want to do so many things with you.”

Steve’s fingers were in your leggings, through our panties and tracing your wet pussy lips gently as he finally started sucking your nipples. You pulled his hair wantonly as he teased you.

“Mmmmm. Who’s got you all wet, Ambrosia?” he asked, as he pulled his fingers out and put them in his mouth.

“Y-you, Steve… unhhhhh.”

The sight of him relishing your taste made you even wetter. And he found out, because his hand was right back down your pants.

His lips were at your ear and he was breathing hard.

“Can I…”

His thick finger parted your lips and the rough pads of two fingers slid over your clit into your wetness. You arched your back in anticipation.

“...Can I eat you out, my sweet Ambrosia?”

His voice and the request sent you on a tailspin. You nodded vigorously as Steve pulled his hand out to your whine of desperation at the loss of contact.

You quickly stood up as Steve captured your hips to stand still in front of him. His eyes raked up and down your form as he took hold of the waistband of your pants, and slowly pulled them and your panties down your legs. You stepped out of them and Steve’s hands ran back up your form as you looked down at him. He grabbed the backs of your thighs as he pulled you near him.

Steve put one knee over his shoulder and stared at your most intimate part.

“She’s a sweet little flower. So pretty and tight.”

His fingers were parting your folds so he could see even more.

“But she will be ready for my thick cock, I know she will, Ambrosia.”

He pulled you forward and held you up as he licked through you, almost causing a near stroke as far as you could tell.

“Mmmmmm,” Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head. “You are so sweet. I could eat you all night.”

You almost cried as he dove back in, grabbing his hair for purchase. He grabbed your bottom and stood to place you on the bed. He kneeled on the floor and held you down and open with his huge hands.

Steve started his feast, gently licking at first, then made you build to a crescendo as he started tongue fucking you. He made sure to stimulate your nipples, and when he felt your hard little nub vibrate, he sucked your clit hard as you came.

“Was that good?”

“Oh my stars, that was good.”

You both laughed.

“You’re so fucking cute, Ambrosia, but there’s levels to this.”

You sat up and watched as he took off his shirt. You were sure that your eyes were sparkling now.

“It’s just going to get better and better.”

He was just clad in his black boxer briefs, a huge bulge leading the charge. He reached in and you were certain that he was going to pull out an entire pack of socks, but instead, he showed you the largest, thickest dick you’d ever seen. Your eyes were like saucers. You were a little afraid, but your legs fell open out of reflex.

“See what you do to me?”

You bit your lip and nodded, reaching out and touching it tentatively.

“I’ve never seen one that big.”

You looked up at him and his heart melted simultaneously as his cock jumped. Your trembling fingers around him made him almost bathe your hand in his spend.

“Oh, Baby.. So sweet.”

“You are too, Steve. I want to taste you.”

You looked up at him through your lashes and Steve groaned, trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Christ… I’m…I…. Whatever you want, Baby.”

You stared at his cock for what seemed like forever. Then, you tentatively reached out and kitten licked his tip, causing him to groan as he palmed the back of your head.

“You’re killing me here, Ambrosia.”

“Hmmm.” You smiled. “Lay down for me, Steve.”

He did as he was told and put his arm behind his head to watch you. The way his muscles bulged inspired you anew. He reached down and roamed his fingers over your body as you hovered over him. You stroked him a couple of times and then played with his balls, Steve putty in your hands.

“B-babyyyy.”

You smiled in triumph that you had him whining as you spread your lips over the thick mushroom cap and sucked it into your mouth vigorously, causing him to moan and buck his hips up. You took the cue and drew him into your mouth, making him hit the back of your throat and gag.

“Holyyyyyy sssssshit. Stop. StopStopStopStop.”

Steve pulled you off his dick, which made you release him with a plop. He sat up and stared at you, disbelief in his eyes.

“Did I do it wrong?”

“Did you do it wrong. Fuck, you almost made me…. C’mere.”

You giggled as you ended up with your back on the bed again, Steve eating you out, this time one finger inside you as you came. You were in shambles as he looked up at you and inserted another finger inside as his opposite thumb stroked your still-quivering clit.

“Gotta get you up to three. Hold on.”

You did, and when he crooked his fingers this time, you let out a wail that caused dogs to bark down the street.

After your fourth orgasm, Steve looked up, smiling ear to ear.

“Still want this dick?”

You scowled at him.

“If you don’t…”

He laughed as he kneeled between your legs, stroking the magnificent beast. You opened your legs even wider and stared down at it.

“No. look at me, look at me. You’re ready. I got you Baby.”

Steve supported himself with one arm as he got nearer to you and started swiping his head between your folds. You keened as he entered you.

“Ow. Steveeeee.”

Your face looked so adorable as you struggled to take him.

“Holy shit, you’re, fuck you’re so….”

Steve kissed you through your moan of shock and pleasure as he slid all the way home. You gripped his bicep, your fingernails leaving marks. Steve pecked your lips as you pounded together, waiting for you to get used to him.

“You ok? You good?”

Steve checked to make sure you were okay. You nodded at him with tears in your eyes.

“I- I- think it feels good. You’re so big, Steveee. But.. but I like it….”

You started moving, a little at first, and then more wantonly. Steve looked down to where you were impaled upon his dick.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You are perfect. Just so.. Fucking… tiny…. But made for me…Shit.”

You felt Steve’s cock jumping inside you when he said those words, and you clasped your hands behind his back and uttered, “More!”

And that’s when you began to get fucked. Tenderly yet filthily. It was the best Steve had ever had, trying to be gentle and knowing that he wanted to put the bed under the ground. It was such a turn on. The ragged moans that you gave him with each stroke was a gift from god, and he started cumming before he could think.

“Shit! I didn’t use a condom…Fuck. But why does that just motivate me to keep going?”

Steve laughed into your ear as he kept stroking for dear life. He was usually so careful, knowing that most women wanted his kid. But with you he didn’t care. You wrapped your legs around him, taking the pounding he was giving you now.

“Hmmmmmm. You want me to put a baby inside you? Pump you so full of cum that you get all round and full with my seed?”

“Hnnnnghhh. Steve… I…”

“Tell me. Do you want it? You want me to get you pregnant?”

“Ohhhh shitttttttt! Steeeveeeeee!”

You detonated around him and Steve cursed, finally pulling out and jacking hard onto your stomach as three fingers on the other hand continued to fuck you through your orgasm. His pearly spend looked beautiful on your skin.

“So gorgeous. There’s time for that yet, but we gotta get you to a doctor, because I don’t want to do this too many more times. And fucking you with condoms is no longer an option.”

You were fucked out, absentmindedly playing in his cum, causing him to spurt one last rope onto your fingers. When you brought them to your mouth was when he shivered. He collapsed beside you.

“I can’t even explain how good that was.”

You just smiled at him, lips shiny with gloss that he made.

“You are an angel. A Christmas angel.”

Steve sighed as you smiled at him. He got up and went to your bathroom to clean up and get a warm towel.

“I’m hungry.”

“Anything you want, Babe. I’ll get it for you.”

You grabbed the remote and turned on the tv, catching the tail end of the news.

“Shootout in DUMBO tonight between the Rumlow and Valkyrie crime organizations. Several high-ranking officers dead or injured, including Brock Rumlow and James Bucky Barnes. More news when we have it.”

“Steve? Bucky? What’s going on? Valkyrie?”

Steve was up and grabbing for his clothes, an inscrutable look on his face.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I gotta go.”

He gave you a quick kiss.

“Don’t leave. Sam will come back with some food for you and he will stay with you. Don’t open the store tomorrow.”

“But Steve!”

“No buts! I will call.”

And then Steve disappeared into the night, leaving you with so many questions.

Knock that reblog button off the block fa me. 😉

Read part two, All I Want.

#dj’salliwant4kchristmas22 #Steve Rogers #mob boss steve rogers #mob boss!steve #chris evans #chris evans imagine #steve rogers smut #Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers x black reader #chris evans smut #bucky barnes

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navybrat817 · 2 years

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Hello, lovelies! As a working mom and writer, I often fall behind on reading and reblogging fics from fellow writers. I decided to take part in the Stardust Reblog Challenge put together by @natrace as a small step to change that! My goal is to reblog one fic a day between September 1st and December 31st, hopefully more! Below are the fics shared and will feature Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans characters (for now). Show these writers some love and please heed any warnings provided. Enjoy!

Moodboard by yours truly and dividers by the talented @saradika.

September Fics

9/1 - It Had to Be You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @s-tarksintern

9/2 - Plan B (Dark!Ari Levinson x Reader, Dark!Andy Barber) by @slyyywriting

Happy Birthday Doll (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @secretswiftymarvelfan

9/3 - Truth Conquers All - Part 1 (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @yarnforbrains

9/4 - Waiting for This (Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader) by @musingsinmoonlight

9/5 - You Really Wanna Do This Now? (Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader) by @luxeavenger

Lap Time (Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader) by @tumblin-theworldaway

9/6 - Infinity (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

9/7 - Chaleur (Pre-serum!Steve Rogers x Reader) by @moonstruckbucky

9/8 - Monster (Bucky Barnes one-shot) by @moonbeambucky

9/9 - Comfort (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @jewels2876

9/10 - Drunk Or Baby (Andy Barber x Reader) by @fictional-affairs

9/11 - Baker's Dozen (Dark!Steve Rogers x Black!Reader) by @boxofbonesfic

9/12 - Dangerous Dance (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @princessmisery666

9/13 - Hands (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @qu1etwolf

9/14 - Cold Little Paws (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @majestyeverlasting

9/15 - Fingers (Tattoo!Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @buckycuddlebuddy

9/16 - Spooky Season (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

9/17 - Into This World, We're Thrown (Steve Kemp x Reader) by @onceuponastory

Lee Bodecker in the Fall (Lee Bodecker x Reader) by @treatbuckywkisses

Blind as a Bat (Jake Jensen x Reader) by @pagesoflauren

9/18 - Sleepy (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @sweetdreamsbuck

Prism (Robert Pronge x Reader) by @needleandhammer

9/19 - Playing For Keeps (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @tuiccim

Narcissist (Ransom Drysdale x Reader) by @chrissquares

9/20 - Boring, Boring, Boring (Lloyd Hansen x Dark!Reader) by @rustytricycle

9/21 - A Gentleman in the Streets (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @christywantspizza

9/22 - Love by Moonlight (Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader) by @strangeprincex-writes

9/23 - Down a Rabbit Hole (Dark!Jefferson x Reader) by @sgt-seabass

9/24 - Happy Ending (Steve Rogers x Mutant!Reader) by @nekoannie-chan

9/25 - Once Upon a Blue Moon - Part 1 (Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader) by @sagechanoafterdark

9/26 - Hold Me Please? (Stucky x Reader) @doasyoudesireandlive

9/27 - Personal Project (Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @slothspaghettiwrites

9/28 - Autumn Remembered (Ari Levinson x Reader x Andy Barber) by @wayward-blonde

Soft Ransom (Ransom Drysdale x Asian!Reader) by @brandycranby

Disarmed (Jake Jensen x Reader) by @ghotifishreads

9/29 - Would I Lie to You? (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @cockslutpadalecki

9/30 - Dirty Dishes (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @jen-with-a-pen

Parade (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @rodrikstark

Possession (Lloyd Hansen x Black!Reader) by @xsapphirescrollsx

October Fics

10/1 - Who's Your Daddy? (Destroyer!Chris x Reader) by @emerald-chaos

10/2 - In the Weeds (Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader) by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

10/3 - Meet Your Match (Dark Serial Killer!Ransom Drysdale x Reader) by @dreamlessinparis

10/4 - Make a Wish (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @sweeterthanthis

10/5 - Post Break Up (Hal Carter x Reader) by @writing-what-writing

10/6 - Unwell (Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @msmarvelwrites

10/7 - Watching Your Footsteps (Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader) by @lokislastlove

10/8 - Abduction (Curtis Everett x Reader) by @georgiapeach30513

10/9 - Rogers Family Recipe (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Enchant (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

10/10 - I.O.U. (Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

10/11 - A Whittle More Practice (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Dance in the Dark (Ghost!Steve Rogers x Asian!Reader)

10/12 - Meeting GiGi (Steve Rogers x Reader)

10/13 - See What You Do to Me? (Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader)

The Things You Do (Steve Rogers x Reader)

November Fics

December Fics

December Masterlist

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venusstorm · 2 years

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𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧—ₛₑᵣᵢₑₛ ₘₐₛₜₑᵣₗᵢₛₜ

ON HOLD

Warnings: 18+, dark!fic, death, blood, angst, smut. *Each chapter will come with its own warnings*

*=chapter contains smut

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴— 𝗦𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗥𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘅 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆— 𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗧𝗼𝗻𝘆 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗮 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀, 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲. 𝗢𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗦𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗥𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀.

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟭: 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮:

#steve rogers angst #steve rogers x black reader #steve rogers x woc!reader #steve rogers x you #dom!steve rogers #mob!steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x smut #sub!steve #dom!reader #steve rogers #sub!reader #mob!steve rogers #mob!reader

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 7 months

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boo! surprise bitches! i'm doing kinktober this year! finally doing it! bet you didn't see that one coming, did you hehe 🕸

there is a good mix of both short and long stories coming your way throughout this (and i will also still occasionally post other fics this month that aren't related to this). also, a handful of these fics are darker in nature, thought it was fitting for halloween, so remember to read the warnings, if there's something that's not for you then please, as always, be kind to yourself and don't read the story.

masterlist | join my taglist

day one | sore

stepbro!sirius black x cheerleader!reader + dubcon massage

day two | don't smile

steve rogers + throat fucking + size kink

day three | stuffed

devil!eddie munson & angel!steve harrington + tentecles + double penetration in one hole

day four | a little fashion show

best friend!stiles stilinski + lingerie

day five | stay still

peter parker + bondage

day six | hold up, let me record this

jj maybank + tittyfucking + sextape

day seven | the palace guards

guards!poly!marauders x princess!reader + secrets relationship

day eight | it’s practically like we’re down there with them

mob boss!bucky barnes + exhibitionism

day nine | keep that pretty mouth shut

tommy shelby + keep quiet quickie

day ten | I couldn’t find it in me to wake you

poe dameron + somno thigh fucking

day eleven | I just want you a little longer all to myself

matt murdock + secret office sex

day twelve | nothing more than a toy

rafe cameron + using you like a toy to masturbate with

day thirteen | I still got a few rounds left in me

boxer!steve rogers + bathtub sex

day fourteen | open your fucking mouth

dark!wild west cowboy!joel miller + gun kink

day fifteen | tiny

miguel o'hara x fairy!reader + extreme size difference

day sixteen | the wall between us

cult member!steve harrington + fem glory hole + breeding

day seventeen | be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

spencer reid + aftercare

day eighteen | pleasant pile of pillows

brother's best friend!james potter + pillow humping

day nineteen | ring ring

sam winchester x reader x bf!dean winchester + phone sex + cheating

day twenty | window

perv!neighbour!billy russo + voyeurism

day twenty-one | say yes

fiancé!bruce wayne + possessiveness

day twenty-two | i can think of something better than that

bucky barnes + anal

day twenty-three | double check

dark!professor!ben solo + power imbalance + manipulation

day twenty-four | maroon

vampire!remus lupin + biting + blood kink

day twenty-five | i want you

pirate captain!miguel o'hara + sex as payment

day twenty-six | teamwork

pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson) + gangbang

day twenty-seven | my little flower

din djarin + fantasy au + cockwarming

day twenty-eight | hysteria

doctor!aleksander morozova x hysteria patient!reader + historical au + fuck machine

day twenty-nine | can't fight the moonlight

werewolf!bucky barnes x gf!reader + predator/prey + monsterfucking

day thirty | magical mimic

eddie munson x witch!reader + magical mutual masturbation

day thirty-one | you can’t put it in

stepbro!peter parker + halloween pussyjob

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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 11 months

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The List (1)

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

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k

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

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

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

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

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

“Follow me, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Princess-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pursing her lips, she let him.

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

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

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

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

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

“He?” Steve asked.

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

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

“What about a future queen?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

“Virginia?” Y/N asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tony smiled. “Precisely, I would know.”

“Mr. Stark-”

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

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

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

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

“Are you looking to assassinate anybody?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You knew,” Bucky growled.

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

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

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

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

“Why?” Y/N whispered wide-eyed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Chapter

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giorno-plays-piano · 9 months

Text

Hold On To Me

Pairing: mob!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: home intrusion, hostage situation, noncon, Stockholm Syndrome, smut.

Words: 3.9k

Summary: Swallowing a lump in your throat, you grow silent, anxiously watching the guy smile at you. He's that type every girl would be eyeing in the club, looking for an excuse to talk to him, to attract his attention, and then, very likely, to get him into bed. Steve seems popular, the I-will-eat-your-heart-like-cereals type, but you can say he isn't. Something in his eyes betrays his nature.

P.S. I rewatched The Hostage again (when I did it for the first time, this was the result), and here we are.

____________

Staring at a little black Ikea table as if your life depends on it, you sit, your body aching from being in one position for too long, but you can't move. He's watching you. It seems he doesn't even blink, his eyes on you since the moment he pushed you into your room and locked the door behind him. He's so close you can hear him breathing.

You know this look. You're not that young and innocent to be unable to recognize interest in man's eyes. It both scares and - unfortunately - makes you a little flushed, and you berate yourself for the latter because this isn't the right way to react to a man who broke into your house and took your family hostage. God knows what's happening to your stepfather right now: the man wouldn't be able to protect himself even if he was inside a tank, and his enemy attacked him with a plastic knife. You're as much worried about your little brother. He was always a bit of a brat, but the second you realized he was in danger, you felt so overprotective over him you covered his body with yours like you were a shield.

Your brother is in his room now, being watched by the youngest guy in the gang, the one who looked the most reluctant when their leader decided to take hostages. Your brother must be safe. The other kid won't hurt him, you don't think.

You, on the other hand, are stuck with Steve. From the moment you saw him move and heard him talk, you realized he was running the show behind the curtains. He's dangerous. The third guy, the one who claims to be the leader, is impulsive, angry, shouting and kicking things, sweating like a sinner in church because of the police cars surrounding the house, but Steve is calm and collected. He smiles with his perfectly white teeth and talks to the boys as if he's relaxing in a bar after work, not in the middle of armed robbery.

He's really, really pretty. Steve has perfectly blond hair and proper facial features like a slightly chiseled jaw, full lips, and that sort of blue eyes that make girls swoon over him the moment they see him. He's perfectly tall, well-built, with wide shoulders and strong, muscular arms and legs: he look like he belongs in those Armani commercials or, perhaps, on the catwalk, but not with the kind of guys your mother warned you about. How did he end up on the darkside? What made him so good at using a gun? He didn't fire it even once yet, but you see it from the way he handles it he knows too well what to do with it. It makes you anxious, thinking that he might point his gun at you and then pull the trigger.

Except he won't. Or, it's rather unlikely. Not when he looks at you like this, always moving so close to you he steals a touch whenever he can as if he is unable to help himself. Besides, Steve is kind to you: he gave you water when you asked and loosened the rope tied too tightly around your wrists; he brought you a pillow so you could rest against it, not the cold wall, and shushed you gently when you cried, saying he wouldn't let anything happen to you or your little brother. You don't know how much of his promises are true, but you think him unlikely to harm a child. He doesn't seem the type.

Your poor little boy. He's only a kid, all alone in his room, forced to face one of his kidnappers as he waits for the police to finally make a move. Since you don't hear him crying - your room is just below his - you think he does his absolute best to hold on, to keep calm and not irritate his unwilling jailer even though he's frightened to death. He doesn't deserve to be caught up in this mess. If only they agreed to let him go... Not that anyone would listen to your pleas, though. He's a valuable hostage, just like you. As long as the gang has you, police won't make a move, you're pretty sure.

But maybe you can still help your brother. Ease his worry a little, give him a bit of hope. That is, if you play your cards right and press the right buttons of your handsome, terrifying warden.

"May I bring some food to my brother, please?" You whisper, gathering all your courage to turn your head to face Steve, look him straight in the eyes. "He must be so hungry."

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you grow silent, anxiously watching the guy smile at you. He's that type every girl would be eyeing in the club, looking for an excuse to talk to him, to attract his attention, and then, very likely, to get him into bed. Steve seems popular, the I-will-eat-your-heart-like-cereals type, but you can say he isn't. Something in his eyes betrays his nature.

He's not a guy winning girls over with his looks. Steve is a deviant, an outcast. His face can't buy him what he wants, and that's why he's here, in your house, holding your family hostage.

Maybe, just maybe, you can use it to your advantage.

"Can you do me a favor, please?" Your whisper is barely audible. "Can you take me to my brother so I could feed him? If you want, you can tie my legs so I won't run."

Not that you would, anyway. You know perfectly well you can't outrun this guy even if your life depends on it, literally. Overpowering him is even more unlikely unless his muscles are just cotton stuffed in his clothes, which is a ridiculous suggestion.

His eyes light up at the word favor. "Happy to oblige," he muses, and your heart starts beating wildly before he continues, "but how will you return my favor?"

You are puzzled. You haven't thought this far. Dumbly, you thought he'd just say yes. It's a small favor, really. He knew you wouldn't give him any trouble, so it was just quickly checking up on your scared to death brother. Why would he want something from you in return when you couldn't as much as move without his permission?

But of course, he would.

"Anything," you blurt out hurriedly as if the words burn your tongue before you realize what you are actually saying.

Steve laughs with delight, his features softening.

"You should work on your negotiation skills," he declares with a wide smile as you tremble, understanding what you just offered. "You shouldn't give up your everything because people will take anything there is to take. Choose just one thing at a time, and choose carefully."

Suddenly, he gets close, and you immediately avert your eyes to the floor, unable to keep his gaze, trembling.

He nuzzles your cheek affectionately as his knife works through the rope around your wrists, and you pray he isn't going to stab you because you really know nothing and all judgements you made of him might be false. "But I'll be nice and choose just one thing for you. You'll feed your brother, and then I'll feed you, alright?"

You blink, your eyes on your warden again. Feed you? He wants to give you food?

Okay, it sounds strange. But who cares when you can finally see your brother? You'd say yes even if he proposed something improper because what else can you do? Steve has a gun, and even without it, you feel like he's a very dangerous person to oppose to.

So you say yes, and he takes your hand in his - so you won't be nervous, he says, but you know he wants to remind you who's in control - and then you two march to the kitchen in awkward silence where you grab whatever you can find. A cheeseburger from that little family café your family goes to every weekend, a pack of yogurt, a toast, a bottle of water... Steve even helps you to carry it all.

When he opens the door to your brother's room, you forget how to breathe for a second. The little boy is safe, sitting on his bed with his hands already untied, his eyes red from all the crying, and you rush to him, forgetting there's another man in the room. Or, well, a boy, because he's surely younger than you, perhaps still at school. His eyes are suspiciously red, too, as if he's scared and doesn't want anything but leave this place for good. For a moment you think it'd be better if he was guarding you, too, because then, perhaps, he'd agree to let you go if you helped him run away from the house without police catching him, and then things would be so much easier.

But the boy leaves in a hurry when Steve enters, and you remember who's a true ringleader. You can never escape on your own.

Your brother cries when you hug him, his little hands wrapped around you as he sniffle, and you rock back and forth to calm him down, whispering words of comfort, like everything's going to be alright even if you don't know where your stepdad is and what Steve is going to do to you if police doesn't do what he demands them to. You tell your brother he needs to eat because it's dinner time, and he nods, suddenly a well-behaved boy he'd never been, and takes a cheeseburger. You don't leave until he eats everything even if it's probably too much for a kid his size, but he says nothing, and you want him to be completely full: who knows when he'll eat again.

Then you give him a hug. It'll be fine, you say, and he does his best not to cry. Just do what they say, be a good boy, and everything's gonna be alright.

Steve smiles at the child when your brother doesn't want to let you go. "Listen to your sister," he says in a tone as if he's playing the role of a big brother, "and things will be fine. She'll be safe, too."

You don't think you'll be safe, not with someone like Steve, but perhaps your brother will be because his jailer is a kind kid, and he isn't cut out for violence. It's enough for you, even if your hair stands on end when Steve gently nudges you into your room, locking the door behind himself again. Once you two are completely alone, you start to panic, your breathing growing uneven, your hands shaking. What will he do to you? Will he rape you? Torture you? Kill you? If you could think rationally, you'd realize at least the last two are unlikely to happen, but you're a hostage, and he has the power to do any of these things. Even if you're unbound, you're helpless against him, a man so big and strong he'd overpower you in a matter of seconds.

So you don't try anything. You go sit down on the floor near your bed with a pillow resting between your back and the wall and then stretch out your arms for Steve to bind them again. He doesn't.

"You've been a good girl so far," he muses, sitting down in front of you, and then you see a couple of fruits in his hands that you somehow missed completely. "Now, let me feed you."

You still when he takes out his knife and peels a big red apple in a single strip before cutting it into even pieces. When he brings one close to you, you try to take it from his hands, but he tuts, tilting his head. "Open your mouth," he says simply instead, and your face grows hot.

Of course, there was a catch. There always is with guys like him.

But you say nothing and do as he says, and then he carefully pushes a piece of apple into your mouth. It's delicious, juicy, just your favorite sort of apples. You try to concentrate on the taste, not Steve's delighted expression when he watches you eat. Soon, he pushes one more piece past your lips, and then one more, and one more until there's nothing left of the apple. He's nowhere near finished, of course, because then starts to peel an orange. It's messier than the apple, but Steve doesn't seem to mind when he brings a slice close to your lips and lets you swallow it. His smile grows wider the closer you are to finishing the orange.

When you're finally done, your mouth full of acidic flavor, he suddenly clicks his tongue.

"My hand is all dirty from orange's juice," he says, eyeing you when you finally register what it is he asks you to do.

You bite down on your lips, eyes round as he brings his hand to your mouth.

"Lick it," he whispers so close to your face you can feel his breath on your skin.

You want to say no, to tell him he's out of his mind, but you don't. He's been kind to you so far, and it'd be stupid to provoke him. Even if he won't stop at this... maybe he'll stay kind, anyway. It's better than having him put a gun against your forehead for refusing to do what he says.

You open your mouth, taking his fingers in one at a time. They taste almost the same as the orange, sticky with juice, and you do your best to lick them clean, making shameless little noises when you suck at them. Steve doesn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he looks at you with a delightful expression on his face, like he's happy you're so good at whatever he asks you to do. He slips finger after finger inside your warm, wet mouth, playing with your tongue, smearing juice and saliva against it as he laughs with joy.

When you're done, he kisses you, sharing the sour taste of the fruit.

You knew it would come to this. It's no surprise, really, with the way he looks at you. But you still tremble and wish for all of it to end when Steve licks your tongue, sucking it into his mouth.

"Open your legs, baby," he commands in a sweet voice, and you shudder but do as he says anyway, and his lips part in a smile. "Yeah, like that."

His hand is already between your thighs, cupping your pussy through the clothes, and you freeze, blood pounding in your ears. It feels surreal, being in this situation, in the hands of someone who might make you cum or shoot you in the head instead. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, but your body is petrified, limbs turning to stone, your tongue heavy when you whisper. "Please, don't hurt me."

It's a plea, a cry, and tears slip down your cheeks as you look him in the face, his eyes dark and perceptive. Then, all of a sudden, he softens. "You're safe with me," he promises, his breath warming your face as his hand lands on your head, stroking you gently like a little girl, and you feel like you're going to cry from the intimacy of his touch. "You'll always be safe with me."

His other hand is already in your jeans, caressing you through the silk fabric of your panties, but as he pats your head, taking your hair away from your face, you lean into him, seeking any comfort he's willing to give. Steve purrs, landing a kiss to your brow, his fingers slowly spreading your gentle folds as you shudder. "Good girl."

You let out a shaky sigh as he circles your clit: surprisingly, he doesn't start pumping his fingers in and out like most guys do, too eager to have their dick inside. No, Steve just draws more sighs from you, makes you meek and pliant and wet as his fingers work your clit just the right way, and you squirm into the fabric of his t-shirt as he caresses the back of your head, pressing you into his chest.

It almost doesn't feel like he's forcing himself on you. It feels like... like he comforts you. As if he wants you to feel good, to be fine with him doing it to you.

"I'm... I'm-"

Your knees tremble as you sense the orgasm coming too soon, snuggling against your captor as his hand closes against your shoulders, his fingers working your clit even faster, circling, pinching, pressing on it like a button, making you squeeze your eyes shut. The coil tightens in your belly and, then, then... you become undone. Disintegrate in Steve's hands when he praises you tenderly for being good to him, kisses your cheeks wet from tears, and craddle you to his chest like a baby. He's painfully hard, you can feel it through his jeans when you lean onto him, but Steve doesn't seem in a hurry for his own release. He waits till your orgasm makes you all too soft and takes your face in his hand, giving you a deep kiss, his tongue coiling around yours.

You barely recognize when he lifts you up, feeling too comfortable and warm, pressed to him like that, but then you feel cool bedsheets behind your back, and then you're scared again.

Steve coes tenderly, giving you a peck on the lips, "Do you want to ride me, baby? Or do you want me to take you on your back, like a princess?"

The way he phrases it makes warmth creep into your cheeks, and you avert your eyes, mumbling, "On my back, please."

It doesn't even register that he forces himself on you right this minute. It feels like... something else. Something not so scary, not so violent. Something... tender.

"Like a princess, then," your captor smiles, hands trailing your jeans as he carefully slides them down, taking them away, living you half naked. "Alright. You'll be my princess."

Your face feels disturbingly hot when he says it, his hands on you as he tugs the fabric of your blouse up, lowering his head to drop a few kisses to your tummy, murmuring something you don't quite catch, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, you are completely naked in front of him, and you'd feel ashamed if he wouldn't caress your head again like you're a little girl, eager for his praise.

He gives you a kiss before inching away, taking his t-shirt off ever so slowly to give you a good look at his undoubtedly perfect body. But you don't look at his muscled arms or wide chest. Your eyes are trailing his scars, so many scars of different shapes and sizes that cover his skin. Many of them are long, undoubtedly deep, as if someone... as if someone stabbed Steve with a knife.

Your eyes water. Even if it's you who's a victim, a hostage, you feel a sharp sense of guilt as if it were you who hurt him.

He blinkes, a little surprised, perhaps, but you can see there's someone else in his eyes. Something like shame. Like self-loathing.

"A princess' knight is supposed to have a few scars here and there, right?" He gives a quiet laugh, getting down again to cage you with his body, but he freezes when your warm hand lands on a long, ugly line on his side, between the ribs. It is long healed, but the touch makes him stop, nonetheless.

You look him into the eyes, and your face is tight with worry. "I'm sorry," you whisper like it's your fault, your palm warming his skin, and Steve becomes alive again under your touch, his lips partying in a smile once more.

His hand caresses your nipple, pinching it between two fingers as he draws a breath from you, watching you intently, his hard, leaking cock heavy on your tummy. Then, suddenly remembering something, he bends over to grab something from his jeans, and you realize he's putting on a condom. You sigh in relief, and he catches that.

"Anything for a princess," he grins, sliding his hand over your thigh, and you still beneath him when he positions himself at your entrance.

You're scared. That moment you're back into your room, with a man who can shoot you hovering above you like a monster eager to eat you alive, and you forget how to breathe. You're not a princess in the care of your faithful knight. You're a hostage, and your captor can do anything he wants with you.

Steve feels the change in you in a moment, and he stops, his hand back to the top of your head. Even though you can feel how painfully hard he is, he waits, caressing you like a little girl, smiling to you, tenderly brushing your hair away from your face, repeating you'll always be safe with him. And then you're a princess again, and he's your knight.

He pushes into you, and you bit down on your lip, trying to relax: he's not monstrous, but Steve is still a bit too big for you to take him comfortably. Thankfully, he doesn't split you on his cock, giving you time to adjust, and with every moment the subtle pain grows weaker before it finally lets go, and you nudge your warden gently, your hands gripping his shoulder and your face in the crook of his neck. It doesn't hurt anymore. It almost feels good to be so full of him, to know what it's like to have him inside of you.

Steve says it's hard not to cum when you clamp down on him so much, gripping him like a vice. Pleasure softens his features, and you brush a strand of blond hair away from his face before you even register what you do. He does, though, and he likes it. He finally starts to move.

Sweat drips down your bodies when Steve keeps slamming inside of you, making all sorts of soft noises while you pant and choke beneath him, snuggling against his form, your legs wrapped around him tightly. His cock is pressing against every right spot of yours, making you forget who he is and what he does to you. You're his princess, his good girl, he repeats over and over again, and you feel safe in his embrace, inhaling his scent, taking his cock till its head presses into your cervix, leaving a pleasant ache and making you whine. It feels good to be in his care when he rolls to the side and presses your head to his chest, his other hand lifting your leg to reach a different angle, and you kiss his jaw, his neck, making it even harder to hold on, he says.

When he cums, you're already far too gone. The pleasure is too intense, and for a couple of minutes you say nothing to each other, panting, his hands still on the back of your head as he caresses you absent-mindedly, your bed a mess of damp and crinkled sheets. You wish to stop thinking. To forget everything. Just being here, being safe, is enough for now.

Until he speaks again.

"You'll come with me," he whispers feverishly, his hot palm on your cheek, almost burning you. "I'll take you away, and we'll go on a big adventure together, princess. With dragons, swords, and gold."

You're quiet against him, staring into his chest as he caresses your head.

You're not a princess. You're a prey.

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @helenaeisenhower @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @rosalynshields @lookiamtrying @soleil-dor @cosicas-cuquis @buckybarnesplumwhore @lux-ravenwolf @stupendouslovegardener @what-is-your-wish @eralen @magnificantmermaid @typewritersworld @stcrrjoon @sweetxime @imrandomstuffsblog @gachawipes133

#dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #yandere #captain america #mcu fanfiction

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biteofcherry · 6 months

Text

To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

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

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

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

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; manipulation; power imbalance; forced marriage; D/s undertones; ex-pli-cit; knife kink; choking; choking kink; praise;

word count: 7k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 6. Downpour

~ * ~

Victims often described the events of their traumatic experience as a blur. Or a film montage of chopped scenes, often black and white, or with one color prevailing. Sometimes their minds protected themselves so strongly they dissociated, their consciousness floating away into a safe space.

Nothing of the sort happened to you on your dreaded wedding day.

If anything, you felt more present in the moment than in the days leading to it.

Colors were vibrant, sounds clear, your feelings vivid.

You felt the constriction of the built-in corset of your wedding dress, the soft swish of the embroidered, shiny tulle in the chalice of the wide skirt; as well the warm amazement at how beautiful you looked.

Even though your spite tempted you to pick a dress that would manifest how much you didn’t want to say your vows, you couldn’t help the flaming love you experienced at the sight of yourself in a stunning wedding dress.

A fucking princess style, out of all.

You wanted to hate it, to cross it out purely to not give Steve the extra satisfaction, but your parents teared up when they saw you in it. Maybe they had some qualms about the speedy wedding, but they sure got on board with it when they saw your face glowing.

You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was because you felt beautiful, not because you loved your future husband.

Whose handsome face you couldn’t look away from as your father walked you down the aisle.

Dressed in a sharp suit, steel gray a tone warmer than his cold heart, Steve watched you every step of your way to him. Others perhaps saw in his face awe, getting all mushy over how much he had to be in love with you, but you knew it was a glint of triumph.

You said your vows in the wide garden surrounding Steve’s property, under an arch of lush peonies and vines. You were sure it’s only thanks to the two glasses of Prosecco and Steve’s hand holding yours a tad too tightly, that you recited your promise to him without a hitch.

With how smooth and soft Steve’s voice was, how he held your gaze captive, you’d think he was expressing true, deep feelings when he said his vows.

True was his possessiveness.

Steve displayed it first in the way he kissed you - draping you over his arm, like in old Hollywood movies, and branding your lips with a breathstealing, passionate kiss. Unable to resist, your arm sneaked around his neck, fingers splaying on the back of his head, while your other hand gripped onto the lapel of his suit jacket.

Then by keeping you occupied each dance, allowing only your father to lead you through two songs.

To your further annoyance, Steve turned out to be a really good dancer. Or maybe he was simply good at holding you and controlling your body as he guided you across the wooden planks built into a dance floor specially for this occasion.

“You look beautiful, Princess.”

There was no breathtaking awe in Steve’s voice, like you used to imagine your true love would say those words one day. But it was no coy game, either. Steve meant them, it was an honest compliment.

It was also his pride in owning you.

“I’m already your wife, all is signed. No need for bullshit,” you stared over Steve’s shoulder, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze and see what desires may shine in the ice cold blue irises.

He twirled you suddenly, then pulled you back to him. Kept you pressed against him tighter as he brushed his lips along your cheek.

“I’d think by now you know I don’t really bullshit anyone,” he whispered in your ear. “I do find you stunning. And I’ll repeat those words later, when I have you naked in our bedroom.”

Heat filled you faster than after that shot you sneaked right before soup was served, to calm your nerves and numb yourself further as the reality of being now Mrs Rogers started settling in. No, that fast dose of booze didn’t scorch your insides the way Steve’s promise of the wedding night did.

“Not gonna happen,” you tried sounding fierce, but your voice came much breathier than you’d like.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Steve chuckled, tip of his tongue flicking the shell of your ear, eliciting goosebumps to appear all over your skin.

His hand on your back was placed low, but he dipped his fingers even further, toying with the ribbon of your corset right above the curve of your ass.

“We have a deal, after all.” He reminded you.

You wanted to argue with him, that technically you didn’t agree to it, but you knew it’s futile. You suffered some disturbing sexual deviancy and your pussy tingled at the mere thought of Steve touching it. So you planned on simply being sneaky and wiping yourself dry before entering the bedroom. And then staying resolved and unbothered, so that Steve’s dark touch didn’t force a single drop of slick out.

You considered stuffing your nose with something too, because the scent of Steve alone now that he was pressed to you so close, was enough to warm up your body.

To ignore your own responses - to his smell, to his touch, to the images of wicked acts he could do to you - you focused your gaze above Steve’s shoulder. Glancing at random guests, at the stunning flower arrangements, trying not to hurt from the fact your parents looked so joyous.

You frowned, noticing Natalie smirking around the rim of a champagne flute as she talked to a man whom you recognized as Steve’s most trusted right hand, Bucky. While flirting at a wedding wasn’t something unusual, alarm bells rang in your head at the prospect of Natalie endangering herself. She was already at risk, being associated with you, but to dance with a wolf was like playing with fire that was surely going to consume her whole.

You didn’t know much about Bucky, practically nothing, but if he was this close to Steve then there was no trace of innocence or clear conscience in him.

No one could stay pure, if they followed in Rogers’ murky wake. A realization which made you wonder, if your own core may rot and dissolve at his feet.

Your heart fluttered, as Steve twirled your body again. Chalice of your dress opened, shimmering in the sunlight as if encrusted in crushed diamonds. In reality it was a faint sparkle compared to the actual bling of the diamond ring on your finger.

You glared at it with disdain when Steve first put it on your finger, seeing nothing but a leash. A brand of ownership and reminder of torment. But the more glances you stole, the more irresistible it was to admire.

It was truly beautiful and you hated it for it.

Steve pulled you back to his body, pressing you even closer than before. Tip of his nose grazed along yours, the icy blue of his irises warming into the shade of pure sky. His breath tickled your mouth, mingling with yours as your lips parted on a gasp.

Then his lips were on you. Soft and coaxing, tempting you to respond in submission.

You told yourself it’s the surprise of it that made you give in, the spectacle you had to continue for the guests, but you couldn’t completely deny the jolt of excitement that spurred heat into every crevice of your body, then melted it into a pliant surrender.

You were vaguely aware of the camera flashes as pictures of you were taken. The sound of cheering and clapping barely registering through the haze of your heartbeat pounding in your head.

There was no triumphant smirk on Steve’s lips when he reluctantly pulled away, which would undoubtedly shake you out of daze. Instead, there was a dark hunger that clenched your heart in fear and your cunt in anticipation.

You found yourself surprisingly reluctant to step out of his embrace as the song ended and Steve took the opportunity to build the lie further by asking your mother to dance.

Trying to avoid dancing with Steve wasn’t as clever a solution as you first thought, because the bastard found other ways to instigate small gestures of intimacy that confused your brain and tickled your clit like a living tongue.

Like him smoothly commenting how delicious that seasoned rib was and how you should try it, then promptly feeding you a piece of it.

With his fingers.

Purposely slipping his fingertip between your lips along with the meat.

It was a split of a second, but enough to have a wave of heat wash over you and your thighs clench.

You thanked heaven that you picked a princess dress, because the layers of the skirt at least hid the movement that would otherwise betray you.

A gulp of wine couldn’t wash away the sensation, nor did it wipe the lewd image of Steve forcing his fingers into your mouth. Would they be salty? Would they feel heavy as he pressed them against your tongue? Would his rings feel cool?

Then you didn’t even have alcohol to numb yourself. Steve made sure your glass was filled with water only as the celebrations proceeded. When you glared at him, trying to yank your hand out of his grip, he said he won’t have you sloshed on your wedding night.

“Don’t want you to worry it was only the booze that got you wet,” he sucked on your earlobe.

But made it look so sweet, the way he pressed his cheek to yours and gently held your hand, that to the others it had to look as if he was whispering love admissions into your ear.

The bastard played supportive and soothing as he caressed your back when you were saying goodbye to the guests leaving the reception late in the evening. Your mom took your teary eyes as an overwhelming, but positive emotion that made her all mushy as well.

You couldn’t cling to her, or your dad, crying in despair that they were leaving you with a monster. Not when that monster was constantly by your side, being most respectful and charming towards them. Displaying a twisted care for you that eased your parents’ worries while irritating you.

There were fireworks bursting in the sky in abundant splashes of color as Steve led you to the master bedroom.

Everyone was gone, only the wedding planner’s team was rushing around like busy bees, cleaning up and packing leftovers. And they all pretended they didn’t see you. You thought some of Steve’s men were also circling around, but you didn’t know yet if it was to keep an eye on the workers, or if it was their routine to guard Steve’s mansion.

Once inside the bedroom, you blurted out your need to use the bathroom and promptly locked yourself inside. Only for a few moments you entertained the thought of staying in and sleeping on the tiled floor, but you knew Steve wouldn’t allow that. He’d sooner take the damn door down than give you reprieve.

He wanted to wreck your body too much.

And you feared how you may react to it.

As you pulled up layers and layers of tulle, to use the toilet and clean yourself from the already obvious reaction to Steve’s touch; you accepted that your anxiety wasn’t for debauchery, but for the inappropriate eagerness of your body.

For fuck’s sake, you were dripping and coming on command when he defiled you with a gun!

How much stronger was your reaction going to be when he caressed you with his hands and mouth?

After wiping yourself dry, you cleaned your hands and with your head held high stepped out into the bedroom. You still planned on fighting tooth and nail to not arouse from whatever he had planned.

Having taken off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Steve waited for you in the middle of the room. His eyes glinted with satisfaction when you stepped out. He crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to him.

“I knew you’d come out like a good girl, Princess,” he crooned, not at all bothered by your stomping and glaring daggers his way.

“Didn’t feel like watching a door being splintered into pieces,” you snapped, clenching your hands on the skirt of your dress as you stood right in front of Steve.

“Of course. That’s the only splintering you were concerned about,” he teased, running a single digit down the column of your neck. “But I know, Princess. I know there’s this curiosity that draws you to me. You may hate it, but your body is eager to learn what I’ll do to you.”

“It’s not. I’m not!” You protested, yet you didn’t flinch when his finger drew a scorching line from one collar bone to the other, then dipped lower to trace your cleavage.

“I want to believe your words, Princess,” Steve said in pretend seriousness, “but let’s check in with your body, too.”

As embarrassing the thought of him flipping your skirts up was, you inwardly prayed he’d do it quickly. If he touched your pussy now, he’d find you dry. But if he prolonged the whole thing, you had no certainty it would stay this way.

“I’m aware how fond of my gun you are,” his words startled you, stopping your heart for a split of a second then sending it into a fluttery beat. The memory of the warm muzzle dragging along your thigh and slipping under your panties spurred heat to pool low in your core.

Shit! No!

No, no, no. You couldn’t get wet!

“But I didn’t think it’s an accessory appropriate for the wedding,” Steve’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile that only added to his criminally hot look.

“So I had something special to be custom made for this occasion-” he touched your cheek in a sweet caress- “and for any future occasions… with my wife.”

Your breath hitched in your lungs when he called you his wife. He made it sound reverent, but at the same time his tone dripped with that dark triumph that reminded you there was no way out from his clutches.

You watched Steve dip his hand into his pocket and then a glint of steel flashed before your eyes.

A switchblade so sharp and polished so smooth that it seemed to be honed out of pure light. The handle was a shimmery white, with undertones of rainbow. Mother of pearl, you realized.

Steve had his fingers wrapped around it, but purposely flipped it out, pinching the hilt between two of his fingers so you could see the silver initials engraved on it. Your initials, but with your last name being Rogers.

Eyes widening, you went still as Steve brought the blade to your skin. Just the tip of it, you barely felt its touch, but your mind was already running with images of cuts and drawn blood. It should scare you, cause tears to fall out. Instead, you felt your pulse thundering in places that shouldn’t react to fear with excitement.

Steve drew a soft line over the curve of your breasts and dipped the steel into the valley between them.

He wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the front of your neck. His eyes heated up as your pupils widened in reaction, once again proving how weak you were for this single gesture. Keeping his hold firm enough you felt the silver of his rings pressing into your skin, Steve traced the blade along the trim of your wedding dress and then down your ribcage.

“Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Steve’s voice was deceivingly soft, as if he really cared if you were scared.

You doubted he’d stop, even if you claimed that you are. You’d sooner expect him to mock you and then proceed to torment your body, proving to you how much you craved his depravity.

But it wasn’t the physical torture you wanted to avoid. For how bad Steve was, how he fucked up your life, somehow you knew he wouldn’t harm you physically. Well, perhaps if you betrayed him. He’d kill you then. But as long as you followed his plans, you were certain he wouldn’t raise his hand on you.

Steve’s thumb brushed along your jaw in a seemingly soothing caress. You turned your face to the side, but he forced you to look back at him when you admitted in a defeated whisper:

“I’m afraid you will make me like it.”

Fingers still curled around the front of your neck, Steve inched closer. Blue of his irises seemed to glitter an impossible hue up this close, mesmerizing you.

You were a prey fully ensnared.

“I will, Princess.” Steve’s lips teased yours. “I will give you pleasure that hurts so good.”

A tiny whimper escaped your mouth. You wished it was a sound of trepidation, but it held an unmistakable undertone of need. It was too late now, you felt a wet spot forming on your white undergarments.

Steve kissed you softly, reverently; like a husband in love might kiss his beloved wife on their wedding night. Combined with the pressure of a sharp blade at your side, it made your head spin.

“Stay still, please,” Steve squeezed your throat lightly, before releasing you and taking a step back.

He walked around you, slowly making a full circle as he admired you. Teasing you by making you wait for what he does next. When he stopped behind you and you felt the puff of his breath on your nape, your fingers trembled.

Then the cool blade pressed where Steve’s warm breath tickled you a second ago. He drew a sharper line down the middle of your back. You didn’t feel the sting of a cut, but he put enough pressure for you to feel a tingling scratch that dispersed into pleasant burning.

You gulped when you felt him hook the knife under the lacing of your dress.

“I can just take it off.” You grumbled, frowning. It was a stunning dress and even though you wouldn’t be wearing it ever again, you weren’t happy with the idea of it being cut to pieces.

“You could,” Steve chuckled, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you-”

You gasped as he swiftly cut through the first string.

“-make that lovely sound.”

Steve relished in each cut, though you weren’t sure if he was more entranced with your little noises (which you tried to suppress, but failed at times), the act of cutting itself, or with your naked skin being revealed as the bodice of your dress parted.

When the corset opened fully, dropping and exposing your upper body, Steve smoothed his hand along your back. Which elicited another gasp from you.

You expected the blade to return, to draw dangerous patterns on your fragile skin. Steve’s warm, gentle caress sent a different kind of jolt down your spine, causing your tense muscles to relax in foolish trust. He pressed himself to your back, moving his hand around your front and boldly cupping your breast. A wave of heat seemed to scorch your face from the inside, but it also pooled between your thighs.

He peppered kisses along your neck as he played with your breast; sucked on your skin as he switched his attention to the other tit.

There was no logical thought in your head when he pinched your nipple hard and you arched; one of your arms flying up to grip the back of Steve’s head. It was an instinctive reaction of your body’s deepest need.

Suddenly, Steve’s touch left you. Only to pull impatiently at your dress, forcing the abundant skirt to fall down. Big hands - one still holding a knife - clenched around your hips. He picked you up so easily, as if you weighed close to nothing.

Then he was dropping you onto the grand bed. Before you even managed to push yourself up, he flipped you over onto your back. A split of a panicked thought almost had you inching away, reheating the idea to fight him. But one of Steve’s hands clenched on your ankle, while the other splayed on your belly - the one holding the knife.

“Lie back, Princess.” Steve’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it chimed with certain urgency.

You stilled. Though you preferred to think it was because of the blade he left on your belly in a warning, not because he asked you to.

Definitely not because you couldn’t look away from him as Steve undressed in a few quick, practiced moves.

The sight was so enticing you didn’t think of grabbing the knife and possibly changing the flow of the night to your advantage.

Without his shirt on, you saw the wide plains of Steve’s chest and chiseled abdomen; saw the tattoos entwining his arms and upper body. Dark patterns, with a few splashes of rich color, that only added to the dark, thrilling aura of Steve Rogers.

You swore that while Steve was a scary motherfucker in his usual wear, he’d appear an even more lethal demon if he approached his victims half-naked.

Your gaze shifted downward when he pushed his pants down, but you forced it back up to his face. Mostly because you feared the sound you may make, if you saw his cock. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you staring.

When Steve knelt on the mattress and then crawled forward, you dropped your head to the pillows and focused on the ceiling. A part of you craved to watch him, to await in trepidation, but you still held onto that sane part of your brain that told you it’s wrong to want it. Wrong to give in to him so easily.

“You’re beautiful, Princess.” He repeated the words, just like he promised.

Calloused fingers traced up your legs. The sensation this touch evoked made you want to clench your thighs, but Steve’s knee was wedged between your legs, preventing it.

Eyes focused on your face, Steve seemed to study and memorize every spark of reaction to his touch. He picked up the knife again. The grin that he flashed you as he brought the blade to your skin was all satisfaction and condescending praise. He didn’t say it, but you almost heard the Good girl. For doing as he told you. For waiting. For being so obviously responsive.

He knelt above you as he trailed the knife along your exposed body. His gaze shifted between the glint of the blade and your face. As his aim traveled south, Steve moved along with it.

Corner of his mouth tugged upward in a dangerous smirk when he slipped the tip of the blade under the white lace of your panties.

Your whole body went rigid. Your mouth opened, your breath becoming ragged.

And yet, when he slashed the fabric apart, you felt a new gush of slick.

Steve cut the other side of your panties as well, then pushed your thighs further apart. Exposing your shameful reaction.

“Princess,” he licked his lips, “it appears that you’re wet.”

He tapped the wide side of the blade against your clit, the jolt of it making you clench around nothing. Steve’s eyes darkened and a low, growling kind of sound rumbled in his chest as he used the knife to flick away the lace that was sticking to your drenched folds.

“You’re not wet. You’re dripping.” He seemed to be in awe of the discovery.

It was in a sense a comforting feeling, to see more than just a cocky triumph. To see Steve affected by the situation. Perhaps not as strongly as you were, but with enough force to make you think perhaps it was a novelty for him as well.

“Say it, Princess.” Steve’s gaze flicked back to your face; his own eyes full of dark hunger. “Say how wet you are, for me.”

Your lips clenched shut, a stubborn frown drawing your eyebrows together. It was humiliating enough that you were so lewdly on display for this bastard, that your body betrayed you and was ready to take him. Admitting it aloud would only strip you of all defenses.

When Steve slapped your inner thigh, the sting of it seemed to zing directly to your clit.

“Ohh!” You couldn’t suppress the gasp, but then managed to spat angrily - “Fuck, fine! I’m wet for you, you bastard.”

As much as you hated it, your anger was less about him demanding your admission and more about him not touching you where you most needed it.

“Your husband.” Steve reminded you, with sinister glee.

With his knee, he pressed your other leg down. Then dragged the knife along the skin of your inner thigh. This time you felt the prick of pain as he cut the tissue. You hissed, head lifting up to stare at the tiny, thin wound. A single drop of blood pearled at the end of it.

Then Steve’s mouth was on it. Warm and sucking, and drawing a surprised moan out of you.

He sucked and licked it clean, making you forget about everything else. His mouth moved up, closer and closer to your core. When he finally licked into your folds as if he was biting into a ripe fruit, you dropped down with a cry.

Fingers gripping the sheets tightly, you rode sensations unknown to you until then. Muscles strained in pain as you held yourself stiff, still sensing that blade pressed against your skin. Steve had his arms wrapped under and around your thighs, keeping you spread as he feasted on your pussy. One of his hands was holding the knife against your abdomen, the sharp tip right on your mound.

“Oh God, please!” Your eyes clenched shut. “Please, please, Steve. I-”

As he lapped at your clit, lashing it with rapid flicks then sucking on it so sweetly, you felt your orgasm building painfully high. You were heartbeats away from climaxing.

“Stop, please!” You begged. “The knife- I can’t- I need-”

Even if you were pleading for him to stop what he was doing all together, Steve wouldn’t listen. Not when he was so close to owning you completely. You needed something slightly different and you hoped Steve would recognize the urgency.

Mercifully, he paused. Though he held his lips close to your clit as he looked up at you from between your thighs - his eyes reminiscing of the stars frozen in dark waters of the northern lakes.

“What do you need from your knife, Princess?” He asked, tilting the blade an inch lower.

It almost touched your clit.

“Place it away, please,” you started explaining, sensing that he wouldn’t comply without a satisfying reason. “I- I’m about to come. And I will, um, move. I can’t stay still. I just, I never could. I can’t.”

“You’re afraid I’d cut you, if you get all squirmy and arching?” Twinkle of amusement lit up Steve’s eyes.

“Please, Steve.” You feared tearing up, if he refused you. You also feared he would make you cum and cut you, and that you weren’t ready for that combination of pain and pleasure.

He hummed, holding your gaze as he licked your clit again. Your muscles tensed anew, he had to feel them straining in your thighs where he held you. Then, very slowly, he untangled himself from you. Steve let your thighs drop to the mattress freely. He lifted the hand holding the knife and you sagged in relief.

Steve leaned over you, bracing his weight on one arm. His broad frame cast a shadow over you. He brought the blade up to your face, you could see a fragment of your reflection in it.

“Kiss it.” Steve ordered.

You stared at him, bewildered. He waited, surprisingly patiently, holding the blade inches from your mouth. He called this knife yours. Had it custom made for you. Used it on you in ways you never imagined in a sexual encounter. Teased what more he could do. What he probably would do to you in the future. And he wanted you to kiss it as if in gratitude for all the lewd things it would unleash on you.

Swallowing nervously, you lifted your head enough to press your lips against the steel.

“Good girl,” he praised.

Your gaze followed Steve’s arm as he reached toward the nightstand to place the knife on it. Then his hand swiped along your arm, caressing muscles that strained from still gripping the sheets.

He coaxed you back into the moment with a sensual kiss. The way his tongue dipped between your lips was soft and seductive. You’d never expect someone like Steve to be able to kiss like that.

Heat quickly returned in pulsing beats to your clit as Steve kissed down your body. He settled back between your thighs, with a moan tasting your pussy once more. Relentlessly, he licked and sucked you back to that edge. Then pushed you over it as he pushed a finger into you.

Steve kept that finger pumping steadily into your fluttering walls as he trailed wet bites up your body. He was hovering above you. Mouth, glistening with your arousal, was a lick away from you when he thrust a second digit inside. The stretch made you keen and Steve drank up every grimace you made.

“Touch me, Princess,” he tempted you, curling his fingers just right. “Come on. Touch. I know you want to.”

If your brain wasn’t a post-orgasmic mush, maybe you could muster some stubborn will to do the opposite. But he was right, you itched to touch him, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath your fingertips, to see how hot he ran.

Hesitantly at first, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders. Your gaze found one of the intricate vines that weaved along his shoulder and up his neck, a branch sprouting from it curved down and over his pectoral. You traced it with one hand, your other instinctively moving to Steve’s back.

When you traced the contoured muscles of his abdomen, fingernails scratching lightly at the narrow path of coarse hair leading southwards, Steve increased the pace of his fingers. It stirred the fire in your core into a burst, evoking another moan.

“Lower.” Steve gritted out, putting more of his weight and heat onto you. “Wrap that small hand of yours around my cock, Princess.”

It was dirty - his words and the squelching sound of your pussy as he fingerfucked you.

But it also made you drop your gaze between your bodies, searching for a glimpse of that dick. It swayed heavy, half-hard, right above your hip. Your walls clenched unexpectedly as you watched it.

This wasn’t the first cock you saw in your life. You were far from a blushing virgin. There was something about Steve, however, that made you feel nervous and out of your depth. It appeared that sex with him was a whole new, scary discovery.

Steve urged you with another command and your hand slipped down instantly. Hot, pulsing flesh in your palm, twitching and hardening as you curled your fingers around the quite impressive girth.

It would stretch you so deliciously. Steve didn’t need to voice it for your imagination to ignite with the phantom sensation.

You tightened your hold, swiping your thumb over the widened, red head. At Steve’s deep moan, your eyes flew up to his face, watching his pleasure in wonder. He didn’t hide it from you, didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t affected. Still, you felt yourself more at his mercy than he was at yours. Especially when you sensed that small kick of elation at giving him pleasure with your touch.

You smeared the beads of precum down his shaft and started stroking. It was a mismatched rhythm, your focus faltering every time Steve drove his crooked fingers against that sensitive, spongy spot inside you.

When Steve sat back on his haunches, you stopped your movement. A rush of heat filled you with sudden shyness as his gaze roamed over your splayed body.

Skin dewy, breasts heaving with quickened breath, legs spread wide. Your hand was still around his cock, your ring and wedding band catching sparks of light. Steve’s own fingers were buried deep in your cunt, your slick glistened on his palm and wrist.

Steve moved his other hand up your body, marveling at your curves and softness. He gave your breast a playful squeeze before trading his fingers further up. Fingers encircled the front of your neck in a familiar way.

“You’re a fucking perfection, Princess.”

Then he was withdrawing his fingers from your heat; milky slick sticking in a web between his digits. He knocked your hand away and spread your wetness all over his cock.

He held your gaze as he dragged his dick between your puffed folds and into your hole. A pause for you to catch your breath, then he was thrusting in one fluid, firm stroke.

A curse bubbled on your lips, stretching into a moan as he split you. Unable to reach him at the moment, your hands fisted the shits, gripping and twisting the fabric. Nipples stiffened into hard peaks, your chest arched upward at the same time as your head bowed back.

There was no second to adjust, no mercy. Steve pounded into you roughly, setting a steady tempo. He watched your body move along the mattress, at least as much as his hold on your throat and your hip allowed. Your breasts swayed with each thrust, your thighs shook with each slap of his hips into you.

He watched your eyes glaze over as an orgasmic haze crept over you anew. Your pretty mouth stayed open, letting out all the sweet noises. It took barely a few of his thrusts and you were cumming again.

Everything was still spinning in your head when Steve yanked your hips more upwards. Your buttocks rested on his thighs, legs thrown over his hips as he fucked into you. Grip on your throat tightened more and more. Your eyes flew open, one of your hands grabbing onto Steve’s wrist. Unbothered, he kept choking you lightly. At the same time, his other hand sneaked across your abdomen.

With your airflow limited, every sensation seemed to heighten impossibly. The stretch of his cock, the pressure of his hand on your lower belly. The coil tightened and tightened, and when Steve swiped his thumb over your engorged clit, you shattered with a soundless scream.

Steve released your throat and the gulps of air you instinctively tok between raw cries seemed to prolong your orgasm. It twisted into a craze that felt agonizingly good.

So good it caused you to cry, salty streaks dripping out of the corners of your eyes and down your temples.

Through the thunderous buzz of blood pounding in your head, the muffled sound of Steve’s voice reached you. Your brain was unable to function enough to recognize it, but it sounded like your name. And something akin to ‘Atta girl.

When Steve shifted, you welcomed his warm heaviness like a comforting blanket, mapping his sweaty back with your hands. He was still moving, speeding up, as he braced both of his forearms on the mattress. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips starved as he kissed and nipped.

He rested his forehead against yours as he came with a loud moan. Warmth of his spend filled you and though you didn’t think of it now, later you would be thankful for the little contraceptive implant you had. As the fog of pleasure held you in its grip, you didn’t care for the consequences. Not when Steve was still rocking slightly into you, his cock twitching.

You sighed, scrunching up your nose, when Steve pulled out a while later. Your pussy throbbed in protest, or maybe it was from the ache that was starting to make itself known. You leaked, too, which would make you really embarrassed if you weren’t too boneless to care.

You managed to wipe at your temples and cheeks, where remnants of tears still wetted your skin, before Steve was touching you again. He flipped you onto your belly then licked a line up your spine with a broad stroke of his tongue.

“Aren’t you done?” You huffed, fearing you may not be able to survive more.

“Far from it,” Steve laughed and playfully slapped your ass.

You were thankful that he spent quite some time just kissing and touching your back, your ass and your thighs. Whether he was giving himself enough time to get hard again, or if he was this dedicated to learning your body.

When he sat on your thighs, his knees braced on the outside of your closed legs, and squeezed your asscheeks, you expected him to play there more. Instead, you felt him spread you enough to expose your pussy. He slid inside slowly, but it still took you by surprise.

Steve laid on top of you, balancing his weight on his arms as he pulled back and thrust back in. The angle unraveled a completely new type of sensation.

“Oh my- fuuuck!” You couldn’t help the unladylike, high pitched squeal.

Nails scratching at the sheets helplessly, you spluttered mewls as Steve purposely rocked his hips back and forth.

“Awww,” he cooed, “is that the spot, Princess?”

Then he pulled back and slammed back in. Each thrust grazed that ultrasensitive area; each time he sunk deeper and deeper, too.

If you were moaning and crying when he fucked you the first time, these sounds were a symphony of pitiful and needy that surpassed others. At one point your mouth just hung open, saliva seeping out of the corner and staining the mattress.

Your toes curled and you helplessly kicked your feet up and down, unable to shift in your position to ease the increasing, maddening pleasure. With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your gaze mindlessly focused on the ring on your finger where your hand rested beside your head.

Steve’s fingers entered your vision, brushing along your hand and intertwining with your fingers. A mockery of softness in the ruthless way he was fucking you.

Your cunt tightened around him, producing more slick the longer he railed that tormenting spot. The sound of him fucking you turned more and more squelching.

“I want you to soak the sheets,” Steve grunted. When you made a noise of protest, he paused to force your legs wide apart with his feet. “Come on, Princess. Make a mess.”

And you did.

Hiding your face in the bedding didn’t suppress the string of cries as you climaxed, squirting a small pool of release.

Steve fucked you through it. Each of his hard thrusts ripping your whimpers into a choked single vowel as you went lax beneath him.

“Fuck, Princess.” He groaned, feeling your wetness drip down his balls. “I would wife you up for that alone. You really-” his hips snapped harder and faster- “are. Fucking. Perfect.”

Your fingers remained intertwined, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck, as he came. Perhaps it was the angle at which he was buried inside of you, or maybe this time his orgasm was much stronger, but you felt every throb and every spurt more clearly than before. Felt yourself full with his cum and dripping excess of your combined spend.

Long, long minutes later, when Steve pulled out and dropped next to you onto the mattress, you didn’t even blame him for not having enough power (or decency) to get you a wet cloth.

Honestly, you didn’t have any strength to get up either.

It was later, as you resigned yourself to falling asleep in the mess that you made, that you heard the sound of a drawer being open. Then a soft, wet wipe was pressed to your inner thigh. It was a surprise. Felt a little weird, too. But you rested quietly as Steve wiped you and himself clean, tossing used tissues into the bin hidden behind the nightstand.

When he laid back down on the unsoiled side of the bed and reached for you, you glared at him.

Yes, he fucked your brains out. You seriously doubted there were any functioning brain cells left. Yes, you were officially married. Still, it didn’t mean you were going to play a docile wife in every aspect of this torment.

“You want to sleep on the stained sheets?” Steve arched a single eyebrow. “Swallow your stubbornness and scoot here, Princess.”

It was voiced as if he was giving you an option, but he didn’t wait for your decision. Astonishingly easily, he sneaked a hand under one of your thighs and simply lifted you enough to relocate you.

Nestled to Steve’s side, with one leg hiked over his thigh, you willed yourself to stay awake long enough to sneak out when Steve dozed off. Unfortunately for you, your will was too fucked out.

You fell asleep snuggled to the ruthless mafia monster.

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

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neonovember · 1 year

Text

Just like Business

Steve rogers mafia!au

summary: with the fate of the underworld on your shoulders, your attempt to keep a low profile fails and instead, you make a deal with the king of Brooklyn himself.

warnings: violence, regular smugular mob talk, mentions of domestic violence

a/n: sorry it took so long for chapter 3 to come out, school has been up my ass lately and I lost half my draft. (I’ve also changed Diore’s name to Clementine because I'm playing twd)

The taste of stale wood catches on your tongue as you nervously chew on the end of your pencil, the Diner is slow today, and you've found yourself in the corner of the kitchen, tenuous forms spread out in front of you. The slowed trickle of patrons coming through the familiar jingle of the doors gave you enough time to fill those papers out before the seats do.

Knees to your chest, you ponder over what to write on the clearly dotted line named “Next Of Kin”. You watch as a man dribbles coffee down his white shirt, failing to catch the drops with a damp napkin as your mind remains a blank deserted canvas. Truth be told you didn’t have anyone you could call in an emergency, it was a bitter pill to swallow, even more so than the pencil between your teeth.

Clem was spending her allotted days off with her niece, mentioning how her erratic sister had dropped her off last night. You understood complicated families more than anything, it was what you lived and breathed for the better part of your adult life, but it meant the hours at work would drag on even further. Clementine was able to keep your mind off of everything, your escape, your husband, that man, that goddamn number. Your entire life was a scattered map of holes and ink spills, and it seems to follow you even on this side of Brooklyn, where eyes were always trained on your own shoes and you learned to keep to yourself.

Any other day you would have called in sick, without Clementine to help push the metaphorical hand to tick past your 9-hour shift. But you couldn’t bare the thought of remaining in that 3-foot room isolated and just waiting to be attacked. Your mental state was as fragile as ever, and you felt even the slightest scare would send you spiralling.

The target on your back grew bigger and bigger each day that went by with the threat of that man’s promise looming over your head. The crumpled napkin remained on your bedside table since that night, and you made no move to initiate the call. His patience was wearing thin, this you knew, but you didn’t have the guts, even now, to face the reality of what you had done.

Leaving the line blank you quickly fill the rest of the form, trying to tear your mind from thinking too hard at the prospect of having no one to rely on. All that was on your mind at the moment was the prospect of a dry winter, with a heater that worked and walls that weren't covered in mould. You hope the council would take your concerns seriously now that you had gained some stability, even as small as it was.

The jingle of the doors finally dragged you from your crouched position, collecting your papers you quickly shoved them under the counter before brushing away any creases on your apron.

The figure had seated themselves towards the end of the diner booths, away from any clear windows where they could be easily seen. Grabbing a menu you made your way past the many vacant booths before finally reaching their table.

It was a man, fairly built, with dark black hair moused from the light shower outside, he wore a deep maroon coat eerily similar to the man from earlier that week. He had deep grey eyes which would have been overshadowed by the curls of his hair falling in front of his eyes if they weren't so intense. His features were distinctly masculine, outlined by a sharp jaw that was littered with stubble, and his arms were outstretched across the booth's couches.

Transfixed by his features you had almost forgotten the menu between your fingers which was scarily close to slipping, he cleared his throat expectantly and you quickly placed the menu on the table.

“You got a staring problem or somthin?” The deep Brooklyn accent drew out as he enanuctaited his words, a smirk breaking through his stoic features but not quite reaching his eyes.

You swallowed thickly, looking down and attempting to avoid his grey orbs which seemed to remain at your face, he had a look like he was dissecting you, cutting you apart and looking into your soul.

“No-, No of course not, sorry. Uh, what would you like?” You choked out quickly, and you gripped your apron as he took notice of your apprehension. he could smell your fear, you could feel it.

He chuckles audibly, the sound sort of muffled behind it’s falsity. A relaxed expresiones seemed to ease the calculating look on his face just moments ago, as if he’s come to a conclusion.

“Your ma never taught you some manners?” He continues, this time however, his eyes are trained on the menu items, seeming to peruse through them thoroughly.

Your mother.

The thought of her and any expectant of motherly duties made you audibly laugh, causing the man to look up, eyebrows quirking at the chuckle leaving your mouth.

You cough quickly, attempting to hide your sudden outburst. It was just, there were a lot of words you could call that person, but a mother? That certainly wasn’t one of them.

You’d soon see hell freeze over before she’s ever act like a mother towards you, whilst your friends and classmates were taught how to braid their hair, or tie their shoes, or ride a bike, your mother, she, was out in the alleyways and prisms of her addiction.

You’d need a pick axe to get through the stone face she morphed into each time she walked through your childhood home. She wasn’t absent, always somewhere, she was just expression less. Like you’d drawn her with a broke crayon and coloured her outside the lines.

Shaking yourself from your past, the man’s eyes are fixed on you, confusion swirling through those grey orbs, before his lips lifted in a small smile.

Why did he look almost apologetic? You already had one strange man after you, did this god want to grant you with another?

“Coffee, black”. Said the man, folding the menu closed that was opened on desserts of the day.

You nodded, taking the menu from his grasp, before turning back towards the kitchen, the squeak of your trainers against the linemen floor.

Funny, he looked through the entire menu only to order a plain coffee, black at that. You’d hardly seen that order in a while, the iced latte-frappe-mocha obsession had taken over even the tiny diners like this one.

Another thing that’s seemed to change this week.

Making you way back to the kitchen, you quickly begin making his coffee. You weren’t particularly specialised at the art of making coffees, however his order seemed fairly straightforward.

Plus without Clem on today the diner was even more short staffed, and completing multiple jobs was expected.

Mind miles away, you almost spill the coffee grounds as you tamp them into the portafilter, attempting to replicate the steps you’ve seen Clementine do a thousand times.

Setting the espresso machine to brew, your able to shift your eyes towards the man in the corner, who’s now pulled out a silver phone and seemed to be in a heated conversation.

You knew that it was wrong to eavesdrop but god your brain would explode if you kept at this repeative mundanity of watching cars splash water violently against the diners windows.

You catch a couple words being exchanged, as the man roughly pushes his strands back into the low bun sitting low on his head.

“Steve, cmon, ya sure it’s her?,

“She don’t look like it that’s for sure”

“Robinson waiting on a package so I can’t stay long-, okay yeah, yeah I hear you, ya big head, don’t need to yell damn.” Mumbled the man exasperated.

He muffled his words into the cellphone as if he could tell you were eavesdropping and you quickly look away when you see him shift in his seat.

The espresso beeped as you pull the shot from under the machine, pouring it into a mug as you add 2 heaped teaspoons of sugar.

Stirring slowly you chance a glance from under hooded eyes, and expecting his broad shoulder and back towards you, instead his turned his shoulder, eyes staring directly toward you.

Taken back you shift your eyes back to the mug, fingers gripping the teaspoon tight as a attempt to pretend that he hasn’t unnerved

It seems to fail as the next time you look up his grinning, phone still pressed to his ear as he nods along with whatever they’re saying.

You question whether to bring it to him, the coffee, and just ask one of your other co workers, but you’ve already gone this far. Waitressing practically came with the packaged deal of sleazy men who couldn’t take a hint, it was depressing but you’ve gotten used to people disregarding your boundaries. You wouldn’t let some creepy yet incredibly attractive man scare you away from doing your job.

Appearing at the booth in almost an instant you place the ceramic mug infront of him. Murmuring his coffee, and not letting a second past before you attempt to escape, shoes squeaking at your hurry.

“Excuse me, Mrs” The man’s Brooklyn draw calls you however, the politeness falling from his red lips before he can help it. You freeze under the formality, fingernails digging into your palms.

Mrs? Mrs. You almost forgot that you were still a married women, it was something you kept hidden for a reason, the encrusted ring was hopefully rotting at the bottom of the hudsen.

And that was it, here, in Brooklyn, no one, no one knew you were with someone much less married, and yet this random man, who wasn’t quite a stranger knew. Hell he called you Mrs loud enough for the entire diner to hear.

To say you were shitting yourself was an understatement.

“Would you prefer ma’am, I hardly know these days” Chuckled the man unfazed by your trepidation, this was a sick game to him.

“How about you sit down and have a chat with me? Just 5 minutes of your time, all I’m asking” The man sing songs, acting as if he were pleading with you, however you noticed the demand laced under his tone. You understood a demand when you heard it.

Your back is still towards him, and your eyes shift to the diner door to the right, and, just as quickly the man reminds you of his loyalty.

“Look doll, I don’t wanna have to go to more extreme measures to find you again, so just sit down here with me before we both do something we regret” The man really pleads this time, he seems exhausted, like he really did look under every hole in New York.

You are are still fixated on the diner door, the paint chipping from its sides, and a dirty brown appearing at the foot of it from the rain coming through the sewers and onto the footpaths. You gulp down the crawling bile rising from your stomach before slowly turning around, each step causing a small breathe to escape from your chest.

You slide into the booth just as the man reaches for his cup, sipping it slowly as he eyes to intensely.

“Atta girl, now was that so hard?” He finally replies, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

Your hands, you don’t know what to do with them, they’ve begun to dig painfully into your palm and you quickly shove them under the table when they begin to shake.

The man watches them carefully, his brows furrowing in confusion as if he didn’t expect you to be so goddamn meek and weak.

God. You’re so fucking weak it’s pitiful

“Look, I’m not going to keep you long, alright? I personally don’t like dragging out a girl like this but orders are orders ya know?” The man rambles, not waiting for you to answer him before he continues.

His eyes shift back and forth, down the diner aisles and across the vacant seats, he leans in, and from a distance it looks as if you two are both lovers on a night out. Huddled against each other from the harsh downpour outside and warmed the the love in the air and the longing in your eyes. The soft glow of the ceiling above casting a eerie romantic feel similar to days before.

“He knows your avoiding him, and in all honesty, this is the longest his gone before going out himself and getting what he wants” The man replies, dark greys watching your slumped posture against the booth coaches.

You’d hoped he’d just given up, the hours going by as you waited for your doors to come slamming down but it never did. It was stupid, you knew this, you didn’t get lucky in this world, but a small part of you had hoped so hard that he just saw you for what you always were; ordinary. Mundane and colloquial, the blurry face in a crowd, the person you always forgot and the name you never quite remembered.

You chest cave in at the truth of the reality you were forced into, you didn’t even care at this point, as your exhausted body rested against the booth, fingers rubbing your tired eyelids.

“What does he even want with me? I don’t know who you are, but you look like your smart enough to know how utterly useless I would be to whatever plan hes drawn up”. You reply

“I don’t even know anything about..about..that world!” you gulp as he looks towards you expectantly. You don’t even know what to call it, the underworld? The mafia? Criminal organisations? Which one would least likely get you killed?

“He kept me out of pretty much all of it, okay? He never let me enter even parts of the house to keep me ignorant and obedient. Couldn’t let the wife know about the 17 year old boy I tossed into the sewers right? Isn’t that what you men do?” You reply heated, spitting the accusation in disgust.

Your words don’t faze the man, and it’s then down you consider what he must’ve already heard and seen a hundred times, this was normal to them, this was life to them, this was making a black coffee to them.

“His not gonna hurt you, if that’s what your scared o-“ The man says, and you cut him off quickly

“Oh trust me, getting hurt is the least of my worries, I’ve gotten a lot of practice” You laugh morbidly, as he looks at you strangely, his eyes peek at the healing bruises on your arm and you tough your sweater down self consciously.

“I don’t doubt it, Matthews is ruthless, and I’ve got to hand it to you, your a real fucking smart one for being able to escape him of all people. But let’s me realistic here, you and i both know what this world is like, sure you’ve made it out, but how long do you really thing you’ll be able to be ahead, to keep up with this on the run shit?” The man reasons, adding more sugar packets to his coffee, before stirring it slowly.

You remain silent as you take in his reasoning, he’s not wrong, soon or later you’d burn out and do something stupid and get caught. You were born in the suburbs for fucks sake, you weren’t some Russian spy.

“All I’m saying is that Matthews is pretty fucking powerful, the type of power where he can get your friends and boss here to offer you up to him on a silver plate. There’s no loyalty when you’re living pay check my pay check, or when you’ve got to put food on the table. The only loyalty then is one written in blood, or bank checks” The man says, winking at the last part.

“We can help, keep him off your scent for a while, until you can get out of here at least” the man says gesturing around the diner and the City itself.

That was the ultimate plan though wasn’t it? To get out of America? Maybe move to a tropical climate where your skin met the warm sun instead of bloody fists. Something was keeping you here, and you spent years trying to understand what.

“By protection you mean surveillance that goes over every single human boundary ever created” You grumbled hands now crossed against your chest.

The man nods honestly,

“More or less, at least then you’ll get some sleep” The man replies, pointing out the bags hanging under your eyes.

“Well how am I supposed to do that when I’ve got him watching me every single minute of the day” You snap, before your eyes widen in shock. You didn’t meant to get angry, least of all at the man who probably has a pistol between in his waistband.

You wait for the man to scream, to feel his rough fingers around your throat, or the bruising force of his fists. It never comes, instead he laughs, fucking laughs.

It’s authentic, the way the baritone sounds leaves his chest ceremoniously, a hand gripping his chest and his curls fall in front of his face at his movements.

It’s beautiful and from the moment it leaves his mouth you love it. But he laughs, the most innocent thing in the entire world and you flinch. You fucking flinch.

You already know he notices it as he stops his chuckles, hands coming to press against his brows, and running down his scalp to brush his strands back.

“He’s coming, later on, to pick you up and take you back to your apartment, don’t fight me on it or else it’s my ass on the line” The man finalises, before reaching out with an expectant hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you..?” He says expectantly

You mumble your name tiredly and you grip his hand, shaking it.

“Bucky” The man’s nods, before getting up from the booth.

“Your got to be something to have Steve acting like this, and for your sake, youd better hope it’s fucking spectacular” The man says, before shelving over a couple dollar bills.

“Keep the change” The man calls before exiting through the diner doors, engulfed by the darkness cloud of fog and rain, the cool city air escaping into the warm diner behind him.

You look down at the coffee mug sitting like warm across from you, still filled to the brim and left un drunken, the only indication of his presence.

You sigh as you get up from your seated the position, the booth warm from your time spent talking. You look towards the clock, signalling you’ve spent well over 30 minutes with the man, and you turn to expect your manager tumbling down the isles to find you and demand answers to your absence.

But instead, her head is down, the deep auburn braids peeking from under the counter. Weird, she’s never not taken up the chance to berate your very presence, and instead she’a jotting down inventory records.

You don’t want to believe it but you know it’s connected to the man that was just here moments ago, or more specifically the man from earlier this week.

Collecting the bills left on the table, you place them into the cash register, before going to clear away his plates. This was going to be a long night.

You try not to notice the headlights shining through the blinds of the diner windows, or even the roar of an engine pulling up onto the front of the restaurant as you jot down the last of the young man’s order.

You were just about to close when a group of drunken but good natured college boys walked, or more like stumbled in.

You weren’t mad in any way, at least it gave your mind something to occupy itself with instead of conversation between you and Bucky from earlier.

Yelling the orders at Daniel, his brown hair bobbing to his stereo, your met with his thumbs up popping out of the bustling kitchen. You giggle to yourself at his antics, if you had to rely on one thing of normalcy in your life it was Daniel.

The familiar jingle of the diner door has you bristling, the note of between your hands crinkle as your hands grip them anxiously. You don’t know why your scared, it isn’t like you hadn’t been warned.

The man loud steps seem to purposeful against the floor of the crumbling diner, he’s incredibly out of place against the old fashioned terriselss and red and white booths. Even the drunken crows notices him, eyes surveying his expensive coat and shiny boots, before quickly looking away as the catch glimpses of his rings and blond tussles.

You pretend to occupy yourself with refilling straw and napkin dispensers, wiping down the tables that were already shining and keeping your head and most importantly your eyes, away from the tall brooding man.

You catch the front of his dress shoes pointed towards your crouched frame over the diner table. He clears his throat loudly when he notices you make no move to acknowledge his present.

“You’re a tough girl to catch aren’t you?” Is the first thing the man says in that deep gruff voice of his. His words seem sweetened like he’s said them behind a smile.

“No, not at all, I’m just..busy” You reply, leaning over further to wipe the cloth against the sides of the booth.

Steve hums, hands stuffed into his suit pants as he watches you carefully

“You sure? From where I’m at it seems like you’re..avoiding me” Steve says

“Well it’s kind of hard to get the courage to phone up a likley criminal mastermind that probably has connections to my husband and who would undoubtedly deliver me to him if given the right number.” You reply hastily.

Steve moves quickly to catch your hands, stopping your movements as he turns you towards his towering figure looming over you.

“I wouldn’t do that, I wouldn’t ever hurt you, you have to trust me” Steve says, a strange look you can’t place takes over his features, the frost behind his blues melt a little and his jaw relaxes before it leaves just as quickly. A hardened expression resting on his face again, and Steve drops your hands, where they rest folded at your stomach.

“How can I?, I’m sorry but I don’t even know you, and if I let another man take me, I’ll, I won’t ever forgive myself” You bristle.

Steve looks far off, blue orbs darkening at your candor as he watches the lights of cars flash against the frosted windows.

“Just let me help you, I’m sure Bucky told you why I’m here, and I’ve gone to lengths I can’t even mention to even speak to you” Steve says

“Why? I’m not special, I just don’t understand why someone like you would do with the likes of me” You reply exasperated, flinching as a David calls the order out.

“I have my reasons, reasons I can’t say right now but can only be explained if you let me take you home” Steve murmurs, you noticed a concerned look take over his features for a second, before the seriousness of this “deal” remains.

“And only if I accept your help” You say, you knew this world through and through, everything had a “but” and a catch. This wouldn’t be any different, would it?

Steve nods honestly, and you turn to throw the dirty wash cloth into the basin behind the counter.

“ I ain’t got long doll, let’s get going” Steve replies impatiently, you understood from your conversation with Bucky earlier that Steve was a man that always got what he wanted. There was little room for negotiation with the blond but you would be damned to make Daniel walk the plate he’d just slaved over to the crowd of huddled 21 year olds.

“Let me finish this order will you? If I’m getting into an unmarked vehicle to lead to my possible death, atleast let me get some good tips” You reply, and for the first time, Steve looks anywhere but you, noticing the huddle of hungry and slightly sober boys.

“Okay, okay” Steve replies acting defeated, as he sits on a barstool across from the counter. Eyes watching your mundane movements of service and food handling, and yet no saying a single word.

You juggle multiple plates, brushing off Steve’s attempts to help and successfully deliver them to the patrons, who gleefully thank you loudly. Slurring praises of Jesus, and Hallelujah, as they shovel waffles and fried chicken into their mouths.

Drunk college boys, either your best or worst nightmare.

Steve doesn’t let you clear their plates as he stands expectantly, you catch his eyes blaring into your manager from the corner of your peripheral. His face hardens into something like stone, and it’s as if his exchanged something without saying a word.

Your manager nods, walking back into the office, your bag is waiting for you on the counter and you reach for it before Steve is grabbing it instead. A hand coming up to silence your protests.

You follow his foot steps without a word, eyes looking back at your manager who’s staring right at you, a grim look on a face that screams pity. Like watching a lamb being carried to the slaughter, or more like willingly walking in.

You don’t know what Steve has told her, or not told her, but it seems he has more power than you first realised, your boss never let you off early, sure she’s let you take a day off but leaving early? Never. You’d had to be bent of and heaving before she’s pay you for half the shift.

It scares you, you don’t quite know what your walking into following this man, the the truth of its danger follows you like a shadow, every step pressed into the floor by blood and crime is a step you fall into.

You’re staining yourself with whatever it is he is knee deep in, even if you don’t want to believe it.

Steve opens the diner doors gently, letting you pass his chest, as he flips the open side the opposite side. A sleek black car comes into view on the sidewalk, it’s branded with a logo you don’t recognise but you understand it’s expensive, the kind of car where they give you shampgane when you buy it.

You don’t know why but you don’t see Steve as a man who would willingly drink champagne, the image of him holding a flute has you fighting back giggles, no, he was most defiantly the time to like bourbon or some other old fashioned liquor.

Opening the passenger door, you take a moment to look back at the diner, the low warm lights giving it a sense of home that you never found at your apartment. The crowd of boys are now singing unabashedly, stale and oily fries left on messy plates.

You hated it but it was the best thing that ever happened to you..since, well, since forever. It was gruelling and tough and not half the amount of work it took but it was yours wasn’t it? It was something you earned and kept only for you, that pay check was written in your name, not your mothers, not your husbands, yours.

Atleast you got a taste of what freedom would be like, a small glimmer of what you could’ve been if happened, hadn’t.

The inside of Steve’s car is even more opulent than its exterior, blue lighting outlining the inside of the car, and tinted windows hiding you from view.

“As much as you think you useless and naive to the word, the truth is, you're the closest thing to Richedson in his life, not his right-hand man, not his best friend, not me, you. Hell, practically half the underworld didn't even know he was married for the better part of 2 years”. Steve murmurs, one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other lay rested on his thigh.

“He was embarrassed by me” You shrugged, it was the truth, even Steve knew it.

“No, I don't think so, I think he was scared that you would get hurt” Steve replies, eyes remaining on the gravel road as he followed the route to your apartment like the back of his head. It should scare you, but it doesn't, and that, that scares you.

“He couldn't care less of me, much less try and protect me from the world he married me into. Besides, whatever cruelty he tried to shield me from, he already exposed me to it himself” You reply hastily, turning your body so that you faced the door, eyes boring into the concrete sky scrapes flashing mirages against the tinted windows.

As if sensing your apprehension, Steves recognises to drop it and instead tries to tell you the reasons from earlier.

“The throne your husband sits on grants him a lot of power, enough to have half of New York at their knees. And with him as unstable as he is, it would lead to more people getting hurt, and most importantly this realm, this life, ripped open for the world to see” Steve says

“He's always been unstable, you of all people should know that” You reply, scoffing. The cracks in your husband's mind enable him to get to where he was today, it enabled him to look past the shackles of morality that kept so many from reaching their full potential as he would say.

“Not like this, no not the way he's behaving now, there's traditions and sacrifices you have to make to survive in this life, that I understand, but the cracks that have always been in him are starting to show, they're starting to crumble the things me and so man other people have built. He's going off the rails, and this time I don't think even you can reel him in” Steve reasons, turning into your apartment car pack with the palm of his hand in one swift turn.

You bristle as that, your husband has always been off, you'd noticed it the first time and you'd accepted it the last, but at least he was always predictable with the lengths he would go to for more power, more authority, more money.

“You're saying the killings could get worse? The blood? The death? You're saying he could get worse?” You say exasperated, your eyebrows furrow as you wait for Steve to reply. You didn't think he could get worse.

Running a hand down his face, Steve roughly pulls his strands back behind his ears before choosing his words carefully.

“I can't say much that won't get you killed, but he's spiralling, and he’s going to take us all down with him unless we do something unless you do something”. Steve says, pushing the hand break up as he turns to you.

You shut your eyes, squeezing them as you slump against the leather seats. Your mind wrestled as it took in all of this, even now, you would never escape your husband? Wouldn't you? Did the fate of the underworld really rest on your shoulders? You want to say no, to jump out of the car and run back to the safety of your apartment but you can't stop the flashes of the 17-year-old boy whose screams still haunted you all these years later. He would've been 21 now, likely to have walked into your diner with those boys from earlier, and most importantly alive, not buried in a shallow grave.

“Okay,” You mutter quietly, so quietly that if Steve didn't have those golden ears of his he would've missed it.

“Okay? You sure?” Steves asks again to make sure he's heard you correctly.

“Okay. Okay ill tell you what I know in exchange for protection. This is what it is right? Purely transactional?” You reply, expectantly.

Steve nods following your words, bringing his palm up to shake your own. It's surprisingly soft, his fingers, like the death and cruelty of his actions, haven't yet spoiled them.

“Just like a business” Steve mutters sparing a glance at you, the same strange expression from before, you both hold onto the grasp longer than a handshake should be. And you find yourself dropping it suddenly, before rubbing your hands against your thigh.

You reach behind the seats, grab your bag and reach for the car door, before Steve’s rough warning stops you, the deep don’t bounce off the car roof and jostles you in your sleep. You know he cants help it, but you catch glimpses of the mafia king just in that one word. You understand what he's able to to, what he's done to get here and most importantly what he’d do if you don't agree.

Steve walks around the car, before opening the door for you, you look down self-consciously.

“You know you don't have to do all that, open doors and stuff,” You say, following his steps to your apartment door.

You had never been the recipient of chivalry. You didn't get to experience the soft, innocent love everyone else did in high school, skipping straight into marriage with a mafia boss. It was pathetic now that you think about it, but you'd never been romanced, much less felt what love could be.

“I know,” Steve says, hands shoved into his pockets, but you don't let him finish speaking before you continue your heated ramble.

“I mean it, I'm not some prissy princess who needs to have her hand held every minute,” You say, searching for your keys at the bottom of your bag, before struggling to open your door.

The lock always seemed to jam wherever you tried to enter your apartment, to the point where you had to shoulder your way into your hallway to get in.

Steve reaches for the keys between your fingers, pushing it into the lock and opening the door with ease. His fingers didn't even seem to strain as slammed the door against your wall.

Looking up through hooded eyes, you catch his blues darken as he looks down, your face chest centimetres away from his chest,

“I know, trust me doll, I know” He whispers to you, and you have to pull your eyes away before moving past him, plopping your belongings onto your velvet couch.

Steve leans against the door frame, his tall length seems almost comical compared to the height of your living space, you were sure he'd have to duck to even enter.

You don't want him to enter, do you?

“Just get some sleep, ill swing by later to iron out the formalities” Steve replies, watching you carefully.

Stepping out of your high heels, you snort, calling loudly with your back to him

“Just like business!” You say with your back to him, untying your apron covered in oil and spills.

Steve smiles, amusement lighting up his features as he nods, leaning against the door

“Just like business” He mutters, before shutting the door, and making his way down the crumbling concrete steps.

He steps into the sleek black vehicle that looks out of place against the beat-up Toyota Camry that’s never left, and the busted bike with stolen tires.

You don't notice, but Steve only pulls out when he's sure you've done exactly what he's said, your figure behind pulled curtains scurrying around your room, causing a small smile to pull at his lips.

And he doesn't notice, or at least you think he doesn't, as you peer through yellow curtains, watching his car recede into the distance, the winter moon was now high in the sky, casting a light for his route as the engine of his car roared against the asphalt roads.

This was it, you'd just made a deal with the devil, and you were already elbows deep. You wonder which one would've killed you faster? Being on the run, or being tied up in his twisted games, falling into the depth of Steve Rogers before it swallowed you whole.

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ramp-it-up · 1 year

Text

All I Want

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 3.4 K

Summary: Steve has left you alone for a week with no explanation. Will you let him back into your life?

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. A lot of FLUFF Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. A slap on the face, organized crime, implied violent retaliation, Bucky’s arm injury implied, Steve simping for reader, reader watching porn, sloppy toppy, gagging, swallowing, coached masturbation, oral (m/f receiving) fingering, nipple play, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, violence (due to mob world).

A/N: This is a bonus for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask and any other requests for a part 2 to Try a Little Tenderness. Here it is babes, I hope you like it as much as the first part. Happy New Year! 🍾

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Sam came, and he watched as you paced in your closed store the first day after the dust up at DUMBO. He told you minimal information, just that Bucky was alive and that he was going to stay there per Steve’s ‘request’ until he asked him to leave.

“I’m opening my store today.”

“No. You are not.”

Sam was usually nice, with that beautiful smile on display whenever he picked up Steve’s gifts. But now, he was steadfast.

You were hot. Not only at Steve for not telling you the whole story, but at everyone.

You couldn’t just sit around all day. You walked up to Sam and stood toe to toe.

“Take off that expensive jacket.”

You had an apron with the store logo in your hand.

Hours later, Sam took a break from helping you do store inventory to take a call. You kept working as he stepped into the back room. Then, you walked back to listen.

You peeked around your corner to see Sam letting out a sigh of relief.

“Good. At least that’s progress? He squeezed your hand?”

He paused.

“I know he has a long way to go, but you know Buck’s a fighter.”

“…Yes. Steve. I’m trying, but you know she’s stubborn…She’s okay. She’s a pistol, and she’s working me to death. She’s pissed at you though. At all of us. Yeah… I don’t think I can protect you from that. I’ll tell her it will be a while…”

You went back to your spreadsheet feeling some kind of way. Steve had time to call Sam, but not you. Okay.

Sam stepped out of the back room.

“Bucky’s alive. He was very badly injured, his left arm is…”

Sam paused, looking at you warily.

You looked back at him relieved, yet anxious at the same time.

“Let’s just say that he has a long road.”

You nodded and swallowed.

“What about Steve?”

You hated yourself for asking Sam. You should have been talking to Steve. But you couldn’t help it.

“He’s fine. Just has some… work to do right now.”

Your stomach dropped and you lifted your chin.

“What Steve does with his time has nothing to do with me, Sam. I don’t own him and he certainly does not own me.”

You were ready to fight.

“It’s not like we’re in a relationship. Steve’s fine, Bucky’s alive. So you can go now.”

You looked him in the eye so that he could get the message.

Sam shook his head.

“That’s not gonna happen Y/N.”

You glared at him.

“Tell your Boss that I’m sending you back.”

Sam advanced upon you, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Learn this, Y/N. Steve’s not my Boss. He’s my friend, and just like Bucky, he’s my partner. I'm doing him a favor making sure you’re alright. That’s what friends do. You can’t send me back.”

You two stared at each other. This must be what it was like to have a brother.

“You know you’re very annoying.”

“Same, lady.”

You fought the urge to laugh and wanted to stick your tongue out at him.

“Get back to work. We have the entire stockroom to count.”

Sam shook his head and obliged.

Six days later, on Christmas Eve, the bell rang, signaling someone opening the door. You turned with a smile to greet the customer to see Steve standing there.

It was liked the wind was knocked out of you.

Steve stood there, staring at you, looking very tired, but with those same sparkling blue eyes. And he had the nerve to smile at you.

“Can I have the usual?”

He was a sight for sore eyes. You’d spent the week worried and frustrated, in addition to mad as hell. But he looked so damn good.

You walked over to Steve, and gazed up at him as he beamed down on you. You did the only thing you could think to do.

You slapped him.

“How dare you!”

Sam, who was in his apron behind the register, audibly gasped, because it didn’t end well with the last woman who slapped Steve. She’d ended up climbing out of a dumpster where Steve had unceremoniously placed her.

You looked over at Sam.

“Here is your friend, Sam. Talk to him. Because I certainly won’t.”

Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute as he rubbed his face. That fire pent up inside you signaled a need for release. He watched you hungrily as you left, then turned back to Sam.

You stormed upstairs toward your apartment, hearing the beginnings of thier conversation.

“I thought we agreed to keep the store closed, Sam.”

“Well, the store’s owner might have a little to say to that. Have you ever tried to get her to do something she didn’t want to do?…”

You went upstairs, straight to the kitchen, reaching for your liquor cabinet. It was only noon, but you needed a drink.

You heard the door open behind you and did not turn around. You heard his steps into the kitchen, but you were immovable.

“Pour me one?”

You reached for a glass and slammed it down on the counter next to you, then poured some Uncle Nearest into it. You still didn’t look at him, but you shivered as he stepped behind you, nearly touching you to reach around for the glass, but only sharing his body heat.

“I deserve your anger, Ambrosia, But at the beginning, I genuinely thought that you knew who I was. I mean….”

You spun around, eyes full of fire, facing down Steve’s desire for you. And there was something else in his eyes. But you launched in nevertheless.

“At no time over dinner, or while you were sweet talking me into bed, did you mention that you were the head of an international crime organization. And then you put my business in danger. And apparently my life???”

Steve sighed and scrubbed his face.

“I know you’re angry, Baby, but you gotta listen to me.”

You closed your mouth and crossed your arms.

Steve’s face softened. At least you weren’t running away.

“I said at the beginning I thought you knew who I was. But then I realized that you didn’t know me as Steve Rogers the big bad dude, I was just that one customer who was sweet on you and sent gifts. And that made me fall for you even more.”

When he said ‘fall for you,’ your eyes went to his.

“Yeah, I said it.”

“Steve…”

You were trying to remain upset, but he was so sincere. Your resolve was weakening.

“Fall for me? You haven’t spoken to me in a week, Steve. You called Sam every day but…”

“I had work to do. Bucky was injured and he was touch and go. And I had to take care of… I had to take care of some things.”

He looked at you and slowed down.

“You had work to do? So did I. But you told me to close my store. You couldn’t have taken a few minutes to call, to text? I figured I didn’t mean as much to you as I thought.”

You looked down at your dirty chucks, and at Steve’s Ferragamos.

Steve moved closer and tilted your head up by your chin. The electricity from his fingers was almost too much.

“No, Ambrosia.”

Steve’s eyes were wild now, and desperate. He wanted you to understand so badly, but he knew it would seem outlandish.

“You mean so much more. I fell for you because there were no expectations. I kept buying you gifts and you kept sending them back. And I thought you didn’t want me. But then when I asked you on a date and you accepted, I realized that…”

“…That all I want is you.”

You looked up at him and bit your lip. Steve could hardly contain himself.

“I can listen to you, Steve. And I would have listened if you called.”

Steve leaned down and kissed your lips softly. He groaned when you yielded to him, opening your mouth and peeking out your little tongue. He wanted to ravage you, but first, you had to understand.

“You’ve got to know. You’ve got to know that you change me Ambrosia. With you I am a different man. I couldn’t call you because you make me weak.”

Steve kissed your frown and started talking again.

“With you, weak is a good thing. I am gentle, I am kind. I am patient.”

Steve looked into your eyes.

“I am in love.”

You gasped.

“Steve…”

“You gotta listen. When I left, all I could think about, besides Bucky, was you. Your smile, your wit, your laugh, your body. How it felt to make love to you. To be inside you. To make you cum. Do you remember, do you remember how it felt?”

You smiled and nodded, playing with the St. Christopher’s medal around his neck.

“Look at me. Do you remember? Use your words.”

You clenched at his command. And you obeyed.

“Yes, Steve. I remember. I was sore for three days.”

Your admission and the new huskiness in your voice made him pull you closer and you could feel the pulsing in his pants. You also felt his heart beating in his chest.

“Fuck, Ambrosia. You make me wanna ruin you again.”

The way you looked at him indicated that you wanted the same. Steve felt his knees almost give out. He chuckled.

“See? You make me weak in the knees. Thoughts of you make me soft. And for what I had to do, I couldn’t be. D’you understand?”

You tried to think rationally. You knew what he was saying without saying it. He had to do horrible things. You watched the news this past week. You knew what Steve was responsible for. But you didn’t care. Bucky was always nothing but kind to you. And he was Steve’s best friend.

You thought about what you would have done in this situation. You looked back up at Steve.

“I understand.”

You bit your lip again.

“And I am still standing here with you because it is too late for me to tell you to leave. I endured Sam sleeping on my couch for a week and protecting me because I love you too, Steve. I think I have been in love with you for months now. And then, last week...”

Your hands moved to slip his jacket off his shoulders, kneading them and feeling the tension there. Steve’s eyes sought yours again.

“You love me too?”

“Yes, are you tired?”

“Exhausted, but… You want me to stay?”

“Yes…”

Your hand was on the outside of Steve’s pants, grasping his hardness and making him groan, knowing that he was leaking in his underwear. His hands moved up your sides and lifted you up to sit on the counter.

He dove into your neck, inhaling your scent and giving you gentle kisses that made you arch your back and your breasts into his chests. Then, he started sucking hickeys into you as his hands came up to knead and grasp you, and to tease your nipples with his thumbs.

“All week I’ve gone to bed and woken up rock hard to visions of you. Didn’t wanna jack off. I need you Ambrosia. Need to see you cum again. Need to bury myself deep inside you. Need for you to hug me in all the ways. Need to see your beautiful body. Need to sleep with you in my arms. I’m tired. Tired of being without you.”

You nuzzled his ear, knowing that the only important thing right now was his need. And yours.

“Sounds like you need me to suck your dick.”

You felt bold because he wasn’t looking at you.

The man literally growled in your ear and then picked you up, still wrapped around him like a vine, and carried you to your bedroom. He sat you down on your bed and looked down on you as you looked up at him.

“What did you say?”

Steve made sure to hold your head up so you could look him in the eye. Your eyes watered as you licked your lips and took a deep breath.

“I said, I want to suck your dick.”

“That’s… what I thought you said.”

Steve continued to hold your head by your chin, and stuck his thumb in your mouth as he undid his pants. You squirmed as you got wet at the sound of his belt clanging on the floor and sucked his thumb like it was going out of style.

Steve could hardly catch his breath for anticipation and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He looked down at you as he pumped his massively hard cock in your face.

“I want to be very, very rough with you, but I’m not going to hurt you, Baby. You want this?”

Steve moved himself to within an inch of your lips.

“Please…”

You made to move closer, but he held you fast. You almost felt his dick jump when you saw it. You squirmed again.

“Can you take it?”

You managed to extend your tongue and collect the drops of precum on his tip, making Steve shiver as his blazing eyes looked down on you.

“Fuck my face…”

“Holy!”

Steve grabbed both sides of your head as you opened wide and accepted him into your mouth.

“That hot little mouth, holy shit, Ambrosia. How do you…”

You concentrated and allowed him to push past your tonsils to your throat, then suckled him as he pulled out, tracing your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. You ran your hands up his sides, tracing his v cut and abs upward under his shirt. Steve scrambled to take it off, and then pulled you off of him to take your shirt off.

“Where did you learn that?”

Steve raised his eyebrow as you grabbed for him again. He tried to be gentle, but you wouldn’t allow it, as you bottomed out again.

This time when you pulled off, gasping you said one word, “Porn,” and then started slurping sloppily again.

Steve stood there, head thrown back as you took his hips and went to town.

“Thank goodness for technology.”

You hummed your agreement, and then went for the gold.

“Ho-ho-holyyyyy. I’m gonna, fuckkkk Ambrosia, I’m gonna…”

You started gagging louder and finally, Steve took your head in order to use your mouth for his pleasure.

“It’s gonna be a lot… “

Steve was looking down on you with lust and you basked in it.

“You gonna swallow?”

You nodded eagerly, as Steve bared his teeth with an effort to hold back. You played with his balls, and he couldn’t anymore.

“Swallow like a good… fucking… girl…”

With those three thrusts, Steve sent a torrent of spend past your lips. You gulped it down and Steve thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He fell to his knees and you hugged him, assenting to his kiss so that he could taste himself on you.

“Thank you for that. Now I can think straight.”

He moved to push you back on the bed.

“So, my sweet Ambrosia has been watching porn, huh?”

“I missed you Steve. Missed your cock.”

Steve shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m so sorry.”

Steve was now taking off your shoes, pants, and panites. He kissed your thighs and spread your legs with his hands. He was looking deep into your intimate parts.

“My little sweet flower. Still so beautiful. But now she’s so sloppy.”

Those blue eyes looked at you, and your cheeks warmed.

“What happened?”

That deep voice.

“You know, Steve…”

“You like sucking my cock, yeah?”

“Yes, I do. Been dreaming of it.”

Steve grunted. His cock coming back to life at your words.

“You been touching yourself?”

“I have, but nothing compares to you. Didn’t know if I would see you again. Was thinking of getting a toy.”

Steve looked angry for a second.

“Never doubt, as long as I have breath in my body. You will see me again.”

His eyes flicked down your body, reminding you of possession.

“Show me how you touched yourself. I wanna watch. Will you let me watch you cum?”

You squirmed at the request.

“Ssteeevvveeee!”

“Don’t be shy. Look. I’ll join you.”

Steve leaned up on his elbow and started stroking his dick, making you wetter than you already were.

You bit your lip and slid your hands from your tits down your sides, one moving back up to play with your nipple, and the other finding your clit. You licked your lips as your fingers played in your slippery slit and lubricated your button. The sound was pornographic as your movements indicated how wet you were.

You watched as Steve opened his mouth and moved his hand faster.

“Put your fingers inside, baby. Pretend they’re mine.”

You shivered as you obeyed and your thumb tuned your body to a marvelous frequency with Steve watching. It was so erotic. You started to cum when Steve started moaning.

“How pretty. Y’look so pretty getting off. Pretty little fingers in that gorgeous hole. My sweet Ambrosia…”

He was descending toward your center, breath hot on your cunt. He inhaled deeply, taking in the essence of you.

“Let me be your toy…”

And his lips wrapped around your vibrating clitoris, sliding it between his lips quickly at first, causing you to jump, then, when his strong hands held your thighs open, he suckled it completely into his mouth and used his tongue to try and suck the life out of you.

You screamed and Steve slipped a finger inside your tight hole, thrusting gently at first, and then adding another finger and becoming more insistent in the quest for your orgasm.

You came very quickly, knees around his head before he pried them off and then held you open. Steve blew on your cunt to extend the sensations, and thrummed your clit while you begged him to stop. The quivers were extended as he came up and sucked your nipples, and pulling his hair only spurred him on longer.

When you finally, finally came down, your hoarse voice complained to,

“All my stars and heavens, Steve!”

“How can you be so fucking cute and so damn sexy at the same time. My dream girl.”

Steve kissed your forehead as you grabbed his cock and started pumping.

“Gimme.”

Steve tried to frown at you.

“So demanding.”

“Steve please.”

“You want this dick?”

Your breathy “Yes!” almost made him almost cum in your hand.

“You. Are going to be the death of me.”

Steve held your thighs in your hands and pushed them up beside you.

His stiff cock seemed to know the way home as he positioned himself at your entrance. He slid the thick head inside you as you keened as you knew his shaft was almost as thick.

“You okay, Baby?”

“Hnnngh.. Oh Steve…give me more…”

Steve almost exploded at your face and the way you were squeezing him.

“Okay.. I don’t really wanna… hurt…”

“Hurt me pleaseeeee.”

“Shiiiitttttttt.”

Steve slid into your very wet canal and stayed there as you wrapped all of your limbs around him as you got used to his girth again.

“I-I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum… inside… I can’t… you’re gripping me so… so so tight…”

“Mmmmmmghhh! Give me!”

And Steve started moving, slowly at first, and as you urged him on, faster and deeper.

“I had plans for how I was gonna… fuck…”

“Oh my god… Steve, I’m…”

“I wanted to go nice and slow… ohhhhhh…”

When he felt you quiver around him was when he started cumming.

“Fuck! It’s too soon… oh my god you feel so good…”

Steve buried his face into your neck, huffing and puffing as his cum spurted out of him and into your warm goodness. You felt every splash of his hot ejection inside you and briefly considered the consequences.

So did Steve.

“Oh shit, I came inside you.”

Steve looked pretty pleased with himself. You had to laugh.

“I can’t with you, Steve.”

“I believe you just did.”

You both chuckled as he kissed you and collapsed on the bed.

Steve pulled you close.

“Sam is probably down there dealing with customers…still got bills to pay. The lights, the mortgage…”

You were dumping the last thoughts out of your head as you were falling asleep.

“Not the mortgage anymore. Valkyrie bought it from Wells Fargo…”

Steve sighed and kissed you on the forehead, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

“Oh, ” You replied as you snuggled closer to him.

And both of you fell into the warm embrace of deep sleep for an afternoon nap.

READ Part three I WONDER

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crazyunsexycool · 9 months

Text

Heart’s Munition

Chapter 4

Pairing: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid single mom!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: mentions of blood, hospital visits, mentions of a seizure, Elijah being a lil shit (in a cute way of course),

Series Masterlist

“Where is she?” Steve demanded an answer through gritted teeth.

“She’s resting in her room.”

“Why didn’t anyone call me sooner?”

Steve took the stairs two at a time. He was furious and someone would be paying for this soon enough.

“You had that meeting with Hansen. If I remember correctly you said to not disturb you because you wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Also the doctor was with her anyway.” Bucky said as he followed Steve up the stairs.

Steve didn’t knock, he just slammed the door open. Peter sat at the foot of the bed and jumped at the sound.

“What the fuck?” You said as you walked out of the bathroom. “Can you be more careful?”

“Who did this?” Steve ignored your question and looked from Peter to Nat, who was reluctantly laying in bed.

She had been cornered while she was alone. Now Nat was a good fighter, even one of Steve’s best. She also had gained his trust a long time ago, along with Bucky and Sam. So whoever did this knew her abilities to defend herself and still managed to get the upper hand. That wasn’t good, it meant his people were being watched.

“You know who it was. They were sending a message. If they can get to us, they can get to you.” Nat said between pained breaths. She looked bad. Black and blue bruises all over her face and chest. She had a cut lip and a few scratches as well as one eye shut due to the swelling.

“We’re going to send a message back. Do you know who actually did it?”

“It was Quentin Beck.” That was all Steve needed to hear before he was out the door. Bucky again followed closely behind.

“Do you need anything else Nat?”

“I’d like to sit up a bit more.”

“Sure thing. Peter, come help me.” You moved around the bed and helped her sit up while Peter added some pillows behind her.

“Thanks. Peter, could you get me my gym bag, it’s in the trunk of my car.”

“Sure thing.”

Peter hurried out of the room and Nat looked over at the nightstand and then around the room.

“Have you seen my phone?”

“You didn’t have a phone on you when you were brought in.”

“Fuck. Ok, you need to tell Steve they probably have my phone. Go.”

You say a quick ok as you hurry down the stairs and into the hallway that leads to Steve’s office. He’s yelling orders, you can hear his voice by the stairs. It takes you knocking a few times before Sam opens the door. The tension in the room is palpable.

“What?” Steve snaps.

“Nat wanted me to tell you that she thinks they have her phone.”

“Fuck. We have to go now. Someone call Jensen and Stark, let them know they need to burn the phone.”

Everyone starts walking out and you ask them to be safe. You close the door before Steve can walk out and the glare he sends your way would make anyone flinch but you don’t.

“Get out of my way.”

“Listen I know you’re angry but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? Are you serious? One of the people I swore to protect almost died and you’re asking me to calm down?”

“Yes.” You say in a soft and almost sweet voice. “If you go out there blinded by rage how many more people will end up hurt? They’re already pissed enough as it is, you can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

You see his demeanor change slightly. He’s still angry but he’s reigning it in.

“Also if anyone else ends up hurt I’m going to be pissed as fuck.”

The corner of his mouth lifts a little. The smile is barely there but you’ll take it.

“Even if it's me?” He asks.

“Meh- depends on how injured you are.”

He smiles this time but it’s gone just as quickly.

“Be safe out there and make sure you kick some ass.”

“You’ll take care of her for me?”

“You know it.”

Steve nods in your direction before walking out and you sigh. It was barely morning and the chaos of it all was already giving you a headache. But you marched up the stairs again and checked up on Nat one more time before starting on your regular duties.

When your work day ended you waited about half an hour and no sign of Steve or his men. Dom and Coulson both nagged until you left.

You had been asleep for maybe half an hour when your phone rang. With Eli getting worse you were sleeping less. So you were in a bad mood as you answered the phone.

“What?” You didn’t even know who you snapped at.

“I’m sorry for calling at this time but we need you at the house.”

“Coulson? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here. You’ll be getting paid four times your regular pay.”

“Uh- I need… I need a few minutes.”

“That’s fine. Dom will pick you up.” He didn’t wait for you to reply.

“Fuck.” You mutter as you dial Mrs. Fields number and ask her to stay with Elijah.

****

“What the fuck happened?” Your eyes grew wide as you took in the living space. There was blood everywhere. The floor, the walls and the furniture. It’s like the fight had happened right there.

“They just got back not too long ago. No one is seriously injured but we need to get rid of the blood. Boss only trusts you and that you won’t say anything.”

“Of course not. Before I start with the cleaning, does anyone need anything?”

“Probably some steady hands. The adrenaline is wearing off by now. They’re taking care of their wounds.” Coulson informs you as he nods towards Steve’s office.

****

“It’s gonna hurt baby but I’ll be quick.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You hear Bucky say with a chuckle.

“You guys are together?” You ask from the door.

Both Sam and Bucky turn to the door, the latter turning red immediately. Sam just gives you a small smile.

“You didn’t know?” Sam asks.

“Didn’t have a clue, you guys are cute together.”

“You hear that babe, we’re cute together.”

“I knew that already Samuel.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Anyways, what are you doing here?”

“Doing what I always do, cleaning up your messes. But I wanted to check in to see if anyone needed anything.”

“We’re good here but maybe check in on Steve. He’s up in his room. The other guys are in the kitchen.” Sam says and you just nod and leave them be. You can hear them saying sweet nothings to each other and can’t help but smile.

As you walk back out toward the living room you see Clint and Scott on one of the couches. They were beaten and bloodied too and they were getting the couch dirty. You sent a worried glance in their direction but they just waved you off as they rummaged through the first aid kit. On the stairs there were drops of blood everywhere and they led all the way to the third floor, Steve’s floor. It made you wonder how bad it had been and if this was a win or a loss for him.

You knocked at the door, where you could see a smudge of blood on the doorknob. There was no answer so you knocked again and still nothing. Worry settled into the pit of your stomach at the thought that he may be passed out on the floor. You open the door and call out his name but nothing. His clothes are on the floor by the bathroom and you hurry over and knock but don’t really wait for a response.

“Steve, are you o-oh my god! I’m so sorry.” You turn around and cover your eyes when you realize his state of undress.

“Y/N, It’s ok I have sweats on.”

“Still I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to barge in on you like this. It’s just you didn’t respond and I saw the blood so I thought you needed help.” You rushed out.

“It’s really ok, you can turn around now.”

You drop your hand and turn around, he does in fact have sweats on. How had you not noticed? More importantly, how had you not noticed the injuries he had? The longer you stare the more you realize he has tattoos all over.

“What the hell happened?” You rushed over, completely forgetting the embarrassing moment just seconds ago.

“A fight.”

“Yeah but everyone looks like shit. Did you lose?”

“Not really.”

“Well if this is you winning I don’t want to see you losing.” You say as you look up at him. “Let me get the first aid kit.” You turn and head to where Steve keeps the first aid kit. “Sit.” You motion for him to sit on the countertop.

“Why here?”

“Because my back hurts and this will be easier to reach the cuts.”

He just nods and sits where you told him to. Steve’s breathing is even until you touch him around his ribs. You think it’s because there’s pain but he knows better. The light touch of your fingers on his skin sends shivers down his spine and although he’s imagined your hands on him it was never like this.

“Steve?”

“Sorry what?” He looks down at you.

“I think you might have a concussion or some type of head injury.”

“No, I was just thinking about what needs to happen next. I’m fine.” He says but really he was thinking about how your touch would feel everywhere else on his body.

“Ok well this is going to hurt.”

You work silently the next few minutes, cleaning and bandaging him up. During the whole process you feel his eyes on you. Every move you make he watches silently.

“Ok, all done.” You put away all of the supplies and make a mental note to have Coulson refill it. “I should go and get started.”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course. Call me if you need anything and please rest.”

“Doctor’s orders?” He teases and you level him with your best mom glare. “Fine. I’ll rest. Maybe I should have put you out there to interrogate people.”

“The house would be less bloodied.” You murmur before pointing at the bed. “In bed, now.”

“Ok mom.”

You laughed because he sounded so childish but you noticed the way his eyes softened as you did. Like you instructed Steve laid in bed but grabbed his phone and made some calls. There was more to be done and Quentin Beck still needed to answer for what he did.

You made it home right around noon and were beyond exhausted. You dismissed Mrs. Fields and took a quick shower, thankful that Elijah was taking a nap. Instead of going to your couch you scooped him up and cuddled with him as you took a nap of your own.

The afternoon was spent in a daze. Some sleep, some tv and some food while you stayed close to Elijah. At around nine at night you get a text from Coulson telling you to sleep tight. It was code for don't leave your apartment, which meant that whatever was going on with Steve and his enemies was close to where you were.

For most of the night it was fine. You were watching a movie with Elijah but when you turned to tell him something he was slumped to the side. His breathing was shallow and he was non responsive. You panicked and dressed in your pajamas you grabbed him and your purse in order to get to the hospital.

*****

Steve and the rest of his men had taken up residence in the waiting room of the hospital. Everything had gone sideways in a heartbeat and now they were waiting for news for one of their own. He was already anxious enough but the next few minutes would leave him utterly confused.

“Help! Someone please… he’s not breathing.” Steve heard your voice, frantic and desperate as you walked in through the emergency room doors.

Bucky and Sam immediately got up and stood next to him to see what was going on. The last thing they expected was that you were carrying a child.

“Please, help him! He’s not fucking breathing.”

Your second cry for help snapped Steve into action.

“You,” he pointed at a nurse that was taking his sweet time on the phone. “Get your ass up and help her.” He got in the nurse’s face, his voice low and menacing. “If something happens to him I will end you.”

The nurse looked like he was going to shit himself. He rushed over to you as he called out for a stretcher. He asked you a few things before rushing him in to get Elijah breathing again. Steve had to hold you back from running after them.

“It’s ok, He’s getting help. You need to calm down, sweetheart.” He whispered but you still tried to free yourself from him embrace.

“Please he has to be ok.”

“Hey,” Bucky cups your face and wipes away the tears. “He’s going to be just fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They’re going to do everything they can, Doll. But we need you to breathe. You have to be ok when he wakes up.”

Bucky grabs your hand and places it on his chest and he takes a quick look at Steve who is still holding you. Both of them match their breathing as Steve softly asks you to do the same and eventually you calm down.

“Sweetheart,” Steve turns you around so that he can look at you. Your eyes are red and your cheeks are tear strained. It breaks his heart to see you like this. “Who is that? Is he your little brother or something.”

By now he had pulled you into the waiting room the rest of his men were at. They all knew you so they were concerned at seeing you so distraught.

“He’s my son.” You say in a low sad voice.

Steve was left speechless and so was everyone else. Never in his life did he imagine you to be a mother but a lot of things clicked into place. He silently told two of his men to move to allow you a seat and of course one next to you for himself. Steve never lets you go though, he keeps you tucked into his side but you’re too upset to notice the closeness.

“You have a son? Since when?” Sam asks.

“Since eight years ago.”

“This isn’t one of those situations where your parents died and you had to take care of your little brother so now you’re technically his mom but not really?” Scott asked really fast. Steve shot him a glare over your head.

“He’s my son, my baby ok. I carried him for nine months in my belly. I have the pictures to prove it or I can show you the video of me pushing him out of my vagina if you want. ” You snapped.

“Sorry, it’s just, you’re so young.”

You rolled your eyes.

“It’s called a teen pregnancy, look it up.” Then you look at him and frown. “I’m sorry Scott I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Ok that’s enough, everyone out. Except for Bucky and Sam.” Steve ordered, reluctantly the men left.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

He’s called you sweetheart three times in the last few minutes but you don’t say anything. Right now you relish having someone at your side. Sitting alone in the waiting room was always the second hardest thing for you to do.

“Do you need us to call someone?” Steve asks and pulls out his phone.

“No.”

“No? Your parents or your son’s father?”

You give him a humorless laugh.

“The latter broke up with me the minute I told him I was pregnant and the former kicked me out when they found out. So no, there’s no one to call.” You sighed, “Wait, maybe Peter? He knows about Eli. So does Coulson and Dom by the way.”

“I’ll call Dom, I’m sure he won’t mind coming in.”

“Wait, where is Peter? I haven’t heard from him all day.” You look from Bucky and Sam to Steve. None of them would look you in the eyes and you sat up straighter. “Why are you even at the hospital?”

“Sweet-“

“Don’t sweetheart me. Why are you here?” You ask again, cutting Steve off.

“He was shot. He’s currently in surgery, that's why we’re here.”

“Bucky what the fuck.”

“Thanks Bucky, at least you had the decency to tell me.” You glare up at Steve.

“I didn’t want to stress you out more than you already were.”

“Family of Elijah Y/L/N?” A nurse calls out from the doorway. Immediately all four of you get up.

“Is he ok?”

“Yes, we got him stabilized and we’ll be moving him to a room. Why don’t you follow me and I’ll take you to him. Only two people at a time though.”

“It’s just me.” You give the nurse a sad smile. You’ve only taken one step when someone grabs your hand.

“And me. Call me when you hear about Peter.”

Steve squeezes your hand to reassure you that he’s there for you. Both of you silently follow the nurse as she brings you to the small room Elijah is in until he’s moved upstairs. The moment you’re behind the closed curtain you rush over to his side. You take his hand and lean down to press a few kisses on his forehead before whispering that you’re there with him. Steve just stands back and watches the scene unfold. His heart aches for you and he wants nothing more than to give you some sort of comfort.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what does he have?” Steve asks after a few minutes of silence.

“The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with him or how to help. He’s been sick for about a year. We’ve tried different medicines but nothing seems to really work. He has his good days but recently it’s been all bad days. ”

You struggle to hold back a sob. Elijah’s health has been declining so quickly that you fear it’s only a matter of weeks or even days before you lose him. Steve gets closer to you and pulls you into a hug. You cling to him like your life depended on it. Even with Mrs. Fields there to help you, you’ve always felt truly alone in life. Somehow it felt different with Steve there.

Steve excuses himself for a moment and disappears outside of the curtain. Just as quickly as he left he comes back and wraps you in another hug.

The sound of the curtain being pulled back has you moving away from him. A young man walks in with a tired smile on his face and lets you know he’ll be moving Elijah. He moves around the space efficiently and soon enough he starts pushing the hospital bed down the hallway. Steve places a hand on your lower back and guides you. He doesn’t stop you from leaning into him while the elevator goes up. Your eyes are half closed when Eli is finally set up in a private room. That wakes you up and you’re quick to protest that you can’t afford a private room.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.” Steve tells you.

“What? No way. He’ll be fine in a shared room. There’s no way my insurance will cover this.”

Steve cups your face so that you have to look at him. His expression is stern as he looks at you.

“I don’t like repeating myself, sweetheart. But I will right now. Don’t worry about it, you focus on Elijah. That’s all you have to do, try to rest so that when he wakes up you can be there for him.”

“Fine,” you murmur before looking at the clock on the wall. “I can squeeze in two hours of sleep before I have to be in.”

“Be in where?”

“For work?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve mutters, looking st you completely dumbfounded. He has never met anyone that has made him go through so many emotions in such a small time frame.

“No, I have to work. I need the money.”

“Fuck the money, Y/N. As of this moment you are on paid leave and you don’t come back until he’s out of this hospital.”

You shake your head. “I can’t accept that.”

“Well you don’t have a choice.”

You both start whisper yelling at each other now. Steve grabs you by your arm and pulls you outside of the room.

“I do and I’m going into work.”

“And who is going to be here when he wakes up?”

“My neighbor, she’s his sitter when I’m at work.”

Steve rubs a hand over his face. The situation hits way too close to home. The only difference is that now he has the power to do something and he won’t take no for an answer, even if he knows you’re stubborn as hell.

“If you had to choose between you being here or the sitter being here if money wasn’t an issue, which one would it be?”

“Me obviously.”

“And I’m giving you that opportunity. Please, don’t think about work or about your paycheck. I will pay you, I promise. Just be here for him. I promise you there won’t be anything that will make your kid happier than you being the first person he sees.”

Your eyes well up with tears again as you look from Steve to Elijah’s frail form on the bed.

“Ok, but only for a few days and then I’m back at work. I don’t like just taking money, I have to earn it.”

“For fucks sake woman. How about you take a week and then we’ll talk about it.”

“One.”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“One day and I’m back at work.”

“Five.”

“Two.”

“Three,” he gives an exasperated sigh before shaking his head. “Three days and we will talk before you even think about working again.”

“Fine. Also you have to let me know how Pete is doing.”

“Deal. So is this what Peter found out when I had him follow you.”

You nod as you walk into the room. At the other end there was a window seat that doubled as a bed. There was a pillow and a blanket already folded and ready for use.

“I begged him not to tell you.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want anyone to threaten Eli so that they could use me against you. I don’t want to put him at risk, I take a long way home just to make sure I’m not being followed.”

Steve’s hands were on his hips as he listened to you. That wasn’t something you should have to worry about when all you were doing was working to try and give your son a chance to live.

“Why not work somewhere else?”

“Because people don’t like to hire single mothers. Before I started working for you I had to work two to three jobs and I barely ever saw him. When I found the job posting as a maid I just went for it. It was enough that I could quit the other jobs and even get an apartment. But then he started getting sick and well here I am.”

He just nodded. It felt like he was watching memories from his childhood replaying right in front of him.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me or anything. I’ve managed just fine.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I admire you even more now.” Steve says. “Get some rest, I’m gonna head back to wait for news on Peter and Dom will be here in the morning. Anything you need he’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you.”

Steve just offers a small smile and walks out.

By day break Steve was already back on his way to the room Elijah had been set up in. He had some coffee and breakfast for you, as well as good news about Peter. Thinking you’d be awake he was already calling your name as he walked in.

“Y/N, the surgery was a success.” He stopped in the middle of the room when he realized you were asleep beside Eli’s bed. He frowned when he saw you hunched over sitting on a chair while holding your son’s hand.

Steve was surprised to find your son looking back at him. He placed the coffee and breakfast down on a table and moved the other side of the bed.

“Hi Elijah, how are you feeling kid?”

“Are you my doctor? You don’t look like one.” Eli asked in a hushed voice as he sized up Steve. He looked frail but tough.

“No, I’m your mom’s friend.”

“Wrong.” Elijah furrowed his brows. “My mom doesn’t have friends. And she doesn’t have a boyfriend either, so you’re not that.”

Steve chuckled but then cleared his throat when he saw Elijah was glowering at him.

“Well I’m sure she does have friends. But anyways, you can call me Steve and I'm your mom’s boss.”

“Oh, and you brought her breakfast?”

“Yeah. Is that bad?”

Eli shook his head. “No, but I’ve heard mom tell Mrs. Fields you’re an ass. So that was nice of you.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at that. Elijah was a little copy of you, especially that mouth of his.

“So how are you feeling bub?” Steve sat down as he waited for an answer.

Elijah looked from Steve to you and back. A certain kind of sorrow that no eight year old should ever experience crossed his eyes.

“My tummy hurts and so does my head. But really I’m worried about ma.”

Steve’s eyes softened as they looked your way.

“She’s barely been sleeping. I know she checks in on me while I sleep. And I know that she was probably really scared last night.” His lower lips trembled. “And I’m scared too.”

Steve’s heart ached for this kid. He knew exactly how he felt, having to spend so many nights in the emergency room with his own mother.

“Scared of what?”

“That I won’t get better and then ma is gonna be all alone.”

If mob bosses cried this is where it would happen. Steve had to look away for a moment and compose himself.

“Well, I’m not going to let that happen. I’m gonna make sure you see the best doctors available. But I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“That you’re not gonna give up. Even when you’re in pain or extra sick, you’re gonna keep fighting.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Steve smiles. “Now, how about you wake her up and I’ll have the food reheated.”

“Ok.”

Steve stood up and grabbed everything. Just as he headed toward the door he could hear Elijah calling you softly. With a look over his shoulder he could see him gently caressing your face.

****

You stirred from your very uncomfortable sleeping position and were greeted with a very happy Elijah.

“Eli.” You smiled as you sat up and stretched. Immediately you felt the ache in your body from having fallen asleep the way you did. It didn’t matter though, your sweet boy was awake and that’s all you could ask for. “How long have you been awake?”

“A while.”

“Then let me get a nurse.”

“One already came by. I asked her not to wake you up. She didn’t say much, just that everything looked fine.”

“Ok, well I’ll ask when someone comes back. Did they say you can have breakfast?”

“Yeah, it will get delivered at the regular time.” Eli nods.

“Ok good.”

You smile again at him and stand to kiss his forehead. As you pull back you hear footsteps and assume it’s a nurse.

“Good you’re up.” Steve says as he stroll in. “Got you breakfast.”

You just looked at him for a moment. Surprised by the kind gesture you give him a quick thank you before taking what was in his hand.

“Elijah, this is my boss.”

“Steve, I know.”

“It’s Mr. Rogers to you.” You corrected.

“I told him he could call me Steve.”

“When did this conversation happen?”

“While you were drooling on your arm.” Steve teases. You send a playful glare, the exchange making Elijah giggle.

“How is he?”

“The surgery was a success.”

“Oh good.” You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What surgery?”

You looked over at Elijah wondering if you should tell him or not. “Peter got hurt. He had to have surgery but he’s ok now.”

“Oh, can we visit him?”

“I’ll see what we can do.”

There was a little knock on the doorframe and you all turned to see Bucky and Sam. They both had their arms full of bags and smiles on their faces.

“Good morning.” Bucky said as he walked in and proceeded to dump all of his bags on the window seat. “Hey kid.”

Elijah just looked at you waiting for an explanation.

“Eli, this is Bucky. My friend.”

“But-“

“If you finish that sentence you’re gonna be grounded until you’re 30.”

“You never told me you had friends. Why haven’t I met him before?”

“Because we’re new friends, kid. I also work with Steve and we’re best friends.”

“And him?” Eli motions to Sam who was also placing bags on the seat.

“I’m Sam. I’m also friends with your mom and with Steve.”

“What about Bucky?”

Sam and Bucky look at you to see if you were ok with Elijah knowing.

“Sam and Bucky are partners, baby.”

“Like cops or like boyfriends?” Eli asks.

“Like boyfriends.”

“Ma?”

The tone of his voice let you know he was about to destroy you with whatever he was going to say next. You frowned by m but answered anyway.

“Yeah?”

“If guys can have boyfriends now, you’re never gonna get one.”

Sam, Steve and Bucky started laughing and Elijah seemed very happy about it. Even if it was at your expense.

“Do you want your mom to have a boyfriend?” Bucky asks as he looks at Steve with a smirk.

“Maybe, but he’d have to go through me first. And I’m not gonna make it easy for him.”

“And now you have us and we’ll help you.” Sam adds.

“Ok, I think that’s enough about me. What did you guys bring?”

“Gifts.” Bucky announces with a smile. He moves over to the pile of bags and starts to walk some over to the bed. “These are ‘get well soon’ gifts. From your new uncles, kid.”

Elijah’s eyes were wide as he looked through the bags to find legos, remote controlled cars, a drone, another video game console, more video games and gift cards. He was so excited the nurse had to come in and check on him because his heart monitor was showing an increase in his heart beat.

“Can I keep it?” The question had been directed at you.

All eyes were on you. It wasn’t that you necessarily wanted to take these things away, you just wanted Eli to learn that not everyone would be as giving. To not expect everyone to just give him stuff, that sometimes he would have to work for what he wanted. Before you could say anything Steve caught your eye. He nodded with a small smile, silently telling you to let Eli keep everything.

“Of course you can, baby. You heard uncle Bucky. They’re ‘get well soon’ gifts. Now what do we say?”

“Thank you.” Eli beams.

“You’re welcome.”

Bucky and Sam move to sit beside him and the three of them start playing with some of the toys that are already on the bed.

“We’ve lost them.” Steve says jokingly as you walk to stand beside him.

“They’re gonna teach Eli everything I don’t want him to know aren’t they?”

“Yup.”

“I'm going to completely blame this on you.” You quip.

“I’ll take full responsibility. But while we’re here, I had them bring you some things too, so that you can freshen up if you want.”

Steve had started motioning for the other bags on the seat across the room when the monitors attached to Elijah started beeping erratically. He slumped backwards and he was unconscious on the bed.

“Get the toys off the bed.” You tell Sam and Bucky. The four of you move quickly and remove the last toy just as the nurses and a doctor walk in.

“Get them out of here.” A doctor instructs, referring to you and the guys.

Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you out of the room while you fight to stay beside Elijah.

“They need their space to work.” He mutters in your ear.

You stop trying to get out of his hold, it’s the only thing that’s keeping you up at the moment. Steve turns you away from the hospital room and into himself. Your silent tears make their way onto his dress shirt but neither you nor him seem to care.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” A doctor calls out as someone wheels out Elijah. “We are taking him to have some scans done but at the moment we think he may have suffered a seizure.”

“A seizure? But why is it happening?”

“It's only a possibility that it’s a seizure. We’ll do our best to find out what’s going on. We’ll bring Elijah back in about an hour or so.” He says before he walks away.

You just stood there, trying to process what you’ve just been told. This was just another symptom in a long list of things that had been happening to your son.

The men looked at each other unsure of what they should do. It was heartbreaking on so many levels. First, seeing a child so sick and with no answers was enough to soften the heart of most. Second, you yourself were fairly young and having to go through something like this wasn’t easy. Add to it that you were working for a very dangerous man and it added to your stress. Third, you were all alone from what they had learned. Well not anymore, I’m that moment Steve had decided that he was going to be there for you no matter what. He didn’t know that Sam and Bucky had spoken about the matter as well and they were willing to provide you support in whatever capacity you needed it. Whether it be emotional, physical or financial. Right now it was emotional and Bucky was the first to move and bring you into a hug and let you cry into his chest.

3 days.

That’s how long you had been in the hospital. 3 days and still no closer to any answers. Elijah was stable enough to be discharged and around noon Sam was waiting in front of the hospital in an SUV to take you home. He had already packed up everything for you the night before and taken it down to the house, all you had to do was walk down with Elijah and the nurse that was pushing the wheelchair he was in.

“There he is.” Sam smiled as you walked out the main glass doors. “Ready to leave this place little man?”

“Yeah, I just want to go home.”

Sam looks at you confused. The plan was to stop at your place to grab some things and then stay at Steve’s place for a while.

“Baby, we’re only only going to stop by the apartment so that I can get a few things. We’re staying at Steve’s place for a few days so that I can work.” You remind him.

“Oh ok.”

Sam gives you a sympathetic smile and helps get Elijah in the car before opening the door for you to get in. The drive is quick and before you know it you’re in your apartment grabbing a duffel bag and placing some clothes in there for yourself and Eli.

“Y/N?” You hear from the front door.

“In Eli’s room.”

“There you are child. Who is that man that has Elijah? He didn’t let me get close enough to say hello.”

“That’s Sam, he’s a friend from work.”

“My dear, where are you going? Did something happen to Eli?” She watches as you move around the room.

“Nothing new. My boss said I could stay at the house for a few days and keep Eli with me so I’m just packing a few things.”

“What, couldn't he give you the time off?”

“Yes, he was more than willing to give me the days off but I didn’t want to. So we compromised. I’ll see you in a few days ok. Could you lock the door on your way out? And call me if you need anything.” You say over your shoulder as you walk out and head back to the SUV.

****

Eli fell asleep on the ride to Steve’s place. So when you got there you grabbed him while Sam and Bucky grabbed your things. At the sound of Dom’s voice Steve steps out of his office and heads to the living room to find you with Elijah in your arms. God, you looked exhausted.

“Let me take him.” Steve says in a quiet voice as he grabs Elijah from you.

He nods his head in the direction of the stairs and you follow him up. You had agreed to stay on the second floor but he just walked past the hallways and up another flight of stairs, his floor.

“Steve. I thought we agreed that we would stay on the second floor.” You whisper.

“I changed my mind. I want you close in case you need me.”

He gets to the top of the stairs and heads to the left hallway. It’s still on his floor but there’s some distance. Steve nods towards one of the doors and you open it so that he can walk in. The room is huge as most of the other rooms are. This one has been prepared especially for you though. Elijah’s new gaming systems have been hooked up to the tv. There’s a basket with some self care products in it for you. Some new pajamas for both of you and the other things that Sam and Bucky had bought and taken to the hospital. Everything was neatly arranged and all you had to do was rest. This was a dream and it was why you were against it.

Going back to your small one bedroom apartment is going to be difficult. Especially for Eli since you know everyone will want to come by and spend some time with him. Bucky had even started a schedule so that everyone had time to hang out and not overwhelm him. The only type of support you’ve had since he was born was Mrs. Fields and you weren’t sure if it was that you were tired or your honest gratitude or a mixture of both but you wanted to cry. Actually you did cry, silent tears as you watched Steve lay Eli down and tuck him in. You had never seen him be so gentle and you asked yourself why couldn’t he be Eli’s dad. He would be a great father, you just know it.

“C’mere.” Steve startled you out of your daydream as he hugged you. You leaned into it, desperate for any kind of comforting touch. “It’s ok, just let it all out.” He rested his hand on your back and moved it up and down soothingly.

“I’m such a mess, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Why don’t you take a bath and then a nap. It might help you relax. I’ll have Dom send dinner for you both.”

“Oh it’s ok, I can go down and get it.” You say quickly but Steve just shuts the idea down.

“Nonsense. He already volunteered to do it.”

“Ok.”

Steve smiles and turns you toward the bathroom. “Go relax, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, for everything.” You say over your shoulder.

“It’s the least I can do.”

****

Later that night, before Steve goes into his room he can’t help but check in on you. He knocks softly but with no answer he decides to just open the door. The sight causes his chest to tighten. With the light of the hallway he can just make out your form on the bed fast asleep. Elijah clings to you like a koala with his head on your chest and your arms wrapped around him tight. As if he would disappear if you let him go.

Steve has decided then and there that he will do everything in his power to give you the answers that you so desperately need. The best medical team and treatment to make Elijah better and if you let him he’d give you so much more. But he knows you’re stubborn. He also knows that the way to get you to agree to anything is to include Elijah in it. Steve would be lying if he said that little boy hasn’t already stolen a piece of what he thought was his cold dead heart. But like mother like son and you’d both weaseled your way in there even when he promised himself he wouldn’t let something like that happen again.

Ch 5

Permanent masterlist:

@rebekahdawkins

@cjand10

@nalny5

@Sturchling

@angywritesstuff

@seitmai

@writing-for-marvel

@goldylions

@almosttoopizza

@littleseasiren

@pono-pura-vida

@talesofadragon

@midnightramyeoncravings

@bunnygirlwriter876

@pandaxnieenke

#Hearts Muntion series #mob boss!steve rogers #mob boss!steve rogers x reader #single mom!reader #maid!reader #Steve Rogers x single mom!reader #Steve Rogers au #mob au

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talesofadragon · 10 months

Text

𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Synopsis: The world was not created in colors to be lived seldom in white, black, or even gray. This is what Y/N believed, and she resolutely refuses to be told otherwise. But when a night at the city’s most prestigious nightclub triggers a series of misfortunate events, Y/N’s world of hues is thrown off balance, colliding with a stranger whose eyes may be blue but his world is a handful of shades too dark.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mature scenes. Minors DNI.

Chapter 1 | Flat White

Chapter 2 | Morally Gray

Chapter 3 | Star Command Blue

Chapter 4 (Coming soon)

A/N: Blame @crazyunsexycool for this one. When the first scene of this "one shot" bordered 3K lines because yours truly cannot for the life her forgo evocative descriptions, I knew I needed to reevaluate the direction of this fic. I'm hoping to have the next chapter out sometime soon. Stay tuned 🩵

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x female reader #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel mcu #avengers #steve rogers x y/n #mafia steve rogers #mob steve rogers #mob!steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve rogers x reader

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scarlettromanov · 1 year

Text

Business as Unusual - Chapter 2: The Contract

pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanov x Reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings(18+only): brief mentioning of Steve Rogers; eventual kate bishop; CEO! Wanda Maximoff; Brief mentioning of Stephen strange; Jealousy; Dom/sub; Domestic Fluff; Eventual Smut; Hurt/Comfort; Childhood Trauma; Mob Boss Natasha Romanov; Smoking; Food; Caffeine Addiction; mention of drugs; Alcohol; Mentions of Violence; mob wife Wanda Maximoff; Angst; NO CHEATING!; all parties communicate; brief Stephen strange slander

Chapter Two: The Contract

The afternoon sun drapes across you as you lay in bed. Absent-mindedly you flip through a copy of the newspaper. The driver said you could take it. You needed to prove to Wanda that you had read something right? The material is dry though. After flipping past the sports section you quickly look over the business section.

A picture of Natasha and Wanda stares up at you. Natasha’s arm wrapped around Wanda’s waist. Wanda wearing a red turtleneck sweater underneath a black blazer. Her hair is curled perfectly. Natasha wears a black jumpsuit, a deep v extenuating her figure. Their wedding bands are clearly visible. Wanda is staring lovingly at Natasha, and Natasha is staring straight at the camera with a small smirk. As if to say “don’t you wish you were me?”

Maybe- yes you would like to be Natasha, or Maybe you’d like to be Wanda. Both women clearly had an effect on you, but you couldn’t deny the small twang of jealousy as you stared at Natasha's hand wrapped around Wanda’s waist. You wished that she would hold you like that.

You sigh, and briefly skim the article. Sales were up 75% from the last year. You knew this. You crunched numbers for Steve all day. Although your salary was subpar, you felt a sense of pride knowing you worked for a successful company. After perusing a few more articles you flip to the funnies, and laugh at the latest Garfield comics. Truthfully, you wanted to look at the comics first, but you couldn’t report to your boss that you read The Song of Achilles for the fifth time. The business section seemed like the next best option.

The rest of the day goes by slowly. Your nap is cut short since you are unable to stop replaying the events of the morning in your head. Tossing and turning, you day dream about the way her fingers brushed against your cheeks. Running clumsy fingers over the bandage on your chin. It’s not until you wince from the residual pain that the daydream ends.

After failing to sleep you take a walk in the park, like Wanda told you to. The feeling of the sun hitting your cheeks has you feeling light on your feet. You really can’t remember the last time you took a leisurely stroll. If you were being honest with yourself, your life had become train ride after train ride between work and the city. Ever since your breakup six months prior, the weekends felt like long gaps of time filled with binge watching shows, and going to the laundromat. Speaking of which, you desperately need to do a load of laundry this weekend. You finish up the day with a good old fashion bowl of Ramen Noodles, and then settle into bed. The small dragonfly night light in the corner of your bedroom helps calm your nerves, as you drift to sleep.

The next morning you are dressed, and about to head out the door when the buzzer to your apartment goes off. You wonder if you should answer it, but decide against it. Absolutely not wanting to be late to see Wanda this morning. The elevator is out again, so you take the stairs two at a time down the 8 flights.

Stopping dead in your tracts you notice the very expensive Rolls Royce parked outside.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” A man in a suit asks as you attempt to sneak your way past him. Skidding to a halt, you turn and look at him. He wears a pair of ray bans that hide his eyes. His expression is unreadable.

“Depends on who’s asking?” You ask giving him the side eye. The dark haired man is about six feet tall, but you gazed up at him unafraid to back down.

“Ms. Maximoff ordered the car.” He says shrugging, jerking his thumb back at the Rolls Royce Phantom behind him. You peer around him at the sleek black car. Not comprehending what exactly was going on here.

“Wanda what?” The words falling from your lips in disbelief.

Just then your phone buzzes in your pocket. Instinctively you reach for it.

From: Unknown

Public transportation is unsafe for a good girl like you.

See you soon. Let me know what to have MJ pick you up from Russo’s. - W.M.

Your mouth falls open as you look up from your phone at wannabe Men In Black. Wanda ordered a driver to get you to work this morning? Swallowing, you try to find your voice, attempting to muster up some kind of confidence.

“Tell me your name.” You tap your phone against his chest lightly. He doesn’t seem phased by your nosiness. His medium length brown hair is scraggly at his shoulders. It doesn’t quite fit the rest of his persona at the moment.

“James.” He quirks a half smirk.

“James, thank you. Cars make me nervous, please get me to Wanda safe.” He fully smirks at you now, looking over the tops of his sunglasses. Revealing a set of sparkling blue eyes.

“You got it, Ms. Y/L/N”

He opens the door for you, and you slide in with ease. The smell of leather fills your nostrils. James ignites the engine, and pulls away from your apartment. Staring at Wanda’s message. You type one reply. Delete it. Type another reply. Delete it. Finally you hit send.

Not even a minute later your phone buzzes again. Your heart does a kick flip in your chest. Wanda sent another message.

You let her last message sit out in limbo. It wasn’t that you didn’t like breakfast. It was the fact that eating with Wanda made you feel like there were golf balls in your stomach. Resting your head back, you just hope that Wanda didn’t have pancake breakfast waiting for you.

Half an hour later, James pulls up outside of the office, and turns to look at you. He removes his sunglasses and gives you a smile. He’s pretty handsome.

“Have a good day, Y/N. Have Wanda call me if anything comes up.” You thank him, and open the door. You had to admit that you sort of felt cool rolling up to work on time in a fancy car. Co-workers probably thought you were ubering to work.

If only your clothes matched your little fantasy. Quickly you make your way into the building. Ignoring the anxiety that you felt knowing you were working directly with Wanda. You let the giddiness wash over you. Without hesitating you hit the elevator button and take the ride up to Wanda’s office. The doors of the elevator open, and you step out with more pep in your step than you felt in months. Absent-mindedly you chew on your lip from the subtle anticipation.

MJ was already at her desk, her brow furrowed as she squinted to read her computer screen. Her glasses sit perched on her head, and you wonder for a moment if you should tell her. She looks up at you, and her smile lights up.

“Good Morning, Y/N,” Her voice sounds chipper enough for 8:45 a.m. on a Thursday. Either way you are glad to see your potential new friend.

“Morning, MJ,” You smile back at her as you approach Wanda’s door.

“You take bright and early very literally,” She giggles, and you nod your head giving her a sheepish smile.

“I am a very dedicated employee,” You mumble, followed by a small laugh, before reaching up to give Wanda’s door 3 small knocks. Your skin is buzzing in anticipation. Heart sitting in your throat as you hear the clicks of Wanda’s Heels heading straight towards you. The door swings open, and her green eyes meet yours.

“Good Morning, Y/N. Come in,” She’s pleased with you being early. She gestures for you to enter. From behind you Wanda lifts the straps of your backpack from off of your shoulders, and lowers it to the floor next to her desk. Before you sit down at the desk, you hear Wanda’s heels retreating towards the coffee table and sofa. So you turn to follow her. She sits in the armchair opposite of you, and you eye up the array of fruit and croissants. Silently, you thank her for not getting pancakes. Attop of of a small black and red coaster you see it. Your black coffee. You lick your lips as you can smell its aroma in the air. Was it obvious to Wanda that you were a caffeine addict?

“How was your ride into town? Cozy?” Wanda asks with a smile. Her red lipstick looks fresh, and you wonder what brand she uses. The drugstore brand that you used on special occasions rubbed off almost immediately.

“Yes! Thank you again. You definitely did not have to do that,” You blush as her actions mean more to you than you think she realizes.

“Like I said, public transport isn’t safe. It gives me peace of mind knowing you’ll arrive here every day.” She crosses her legs, flipping her hair over her shoulder again. You notice that she does this whenever she wants to come across as nonchalant. You ignore her attempt to set you at ease. You desperately want to know why she cares this much about your well-being. For now though, you nod your head, and grab a few pieces of sliced kiwi from the tray. Wanda’s eyes light up seeing you attempt to eat.

“Is this alright? I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat in the mornings.” She gestures to the trays of food.

“Oh. Y-yeah. I’m not much of a breakfast person. I love fruit though,” You pause, and grab a croissant from the tray, placing it onto your plate, “And croissants actually are my favorite pastry. ” You smile, breaking open the pastry to reveal the dozens of layers of butter and pastry. They were fresh, and you could tell. Wanda eyes you with a warm smile. She reaches for her drink, and takes a sip. She closes her eyes, and you can tell that she’s enjoying this moment of bliss.

“What kind of drink did you get?” You ask when she opens her eyes again. To your surprise her cheeks turn the slightest tinge pink. Wanda Maximoff, embarrassed? You silently bask in how cute she looks when she blushes.

“Would you judge me if I said a lavender oat milk latte?” Wanda says, looking away from you. You giggle, it should have been obvious to you that she was drinking a beverage so queer coded.

“So you are judging me.” She quirks an eyebrow at you, and you try to stifle your laughter.

“No! No! I just should’ve known,” You wave your hands trying to let her know that you’re being playful.

“I’m confused,” Wanda’s Sokovian accent bleeds through for a moment, and you notice. Ignoring how adorable she’s being, you attempt to explain,

“It’s… you know… queer.” You do a little flick of your wrist. Hoping she understands the gesture, and that the age gap between you two isn’t going to ruin the moment. You take a sip of your coffee now feeling just how dry your mouth felt from the nerves.

“Well that would explain why I've had people slip me their number after I’ve ordered this drink.” You inhale suddenly from the way her words throw you off. Unfortunately you had been in the middle of sipping your coffee. Immediately you choke on the liquid. Wincing at the burning sensation in your throat. This is what you get for attempting to drink a scalding hot drink without waiting for it to cool. Wanda jumps to her feet to help you. You hold up a hand.

“I’m fine- I’m fine!” You assure her, but the look of worry doesn’t leave her eyes. Clearing your throat a few times, still trying to push down the giggles

“Is it that funny to believe that someone would hit on me?” Her voice is completely serious. Heart sinking into your ass and you fall silent. Giggles long forgotten. With burning cheeks you look down at your hands again. This is it, she’s going to fire you for being an asshole. You think to yourself. Shame filling your thoughts.

You bite your bottom lip, and then reply, “No, I can believe it.” Meaning it since you know you would hit on her if you had an ounce of confidence (and obviously weren’t already her employee).

“I’m screwing with you, Y/N.” Wanda’s replies, a smile in her voice. When your eyes meet she winks at you. Of course she’s screwing with you. Wanda always found a way to make you squirm. A small part of you knows that she loves to see you flustered. Your brain couldn’t help but short circuit when she would wink at you; make a joke at the copier, or by making faces at you during staff meetings ( when you both were clearly not listening ).

“Relax, Sweetheart.” Taking a few deep breaths you feel the blush disappear from your cheeks.

“So now that we’ve established that my drink is extremely gay. Let’s get to business.”

You nod, and stand to grab a piece of paper and a pen. Wanda reaches down to her bag, and pulls out a stack of documents. She leans forward, and places the document gingerly into your hands. It’s a nondisclosure agreement . Your eyebrows knit together, and you absentmindedly sit back down on the couch.

“Wanda, why am I signing an NDA?” Wanda places a few pieces of fruit onto her plate, and plucks a grape in between her thumb and forefinger. She eyes you with a look that you can’t quite understand. Her tone is serious when she replies,

“Do you trust me?”

You don’t hesitate before replying, “Absolutely.”

“Sign the document,”

You stare down at the stack of papers, and flip through it. Once, and then again for good measure.

“Always crossing your t’s and dotting your i’s. Very thorough,”

You didn’t know how to tell Wanda that your dad is an attorney. Growing up, despite his general dislike of you, your Father made sure to stress the importance of reading a document before signing it. Right now though, you push his words out of your head. Clicking your pen, you sign on the line above your name.

“Thank you,” Wanda says before taking the document to her desk. You can feel the questions dancing behind your lips, and she notices.

“You are my personal assistant, and data analyst for Natasha and I’s affairs.”

You raise your eyebrows. If you were Wanda’s personal assistant, what did that make MJ? That poor girl probably needs this job more than you do.

“What about MJ?” Your voice is full of worry.

“MJ is my company secretary, you will be filling in the gaps for any other needs Natasha and I have.”

Natasha? Your heart rate speeds up at the thought of Natasha telling you what to do, and when to do it. You mull over her words, honing in on her choice of words. MJ was her company secretary, does that mean your work was outside of company limits?

“What are my hours?” You ask, running a sweaty hand through your hair. Your palms are clammy, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions.

“You will be on call for me and Natasha. When we call, you answer. This isn't a company position, Y/N. You do understand that, don’t you?”

Does this mean you were fired from your old position? Picking at your cuticles, You cross your legs, squeezing them together. Feeling hot tears well in your eyes. You blink them away. No, not here, not in front of the one person you so desperately wanted to impress. She could not see you like this.

“I can’t believe I got fired.” Your voice is full of emotion. Self Deprecation setting in quickly. Wanda shifts in the arm chair across from you. You refuse to look up at her sudden movement. Your cuticle begins to bleed as you pull on a hangnail. The world grows smaller as you retreat into yourself. Wanda moves to the seat next to you. She places a reassuring arm over your shoulders. She smells of vanilla and honey. Her closeness comforts you.

“You’re not being fired. You have a choice. You can continue to work for Steve,” Wanda pauses, giving your shoulder a squeeze, “or you can quit and work for me and Nat. The choice is yours, dear.” You lean into her with a bit of your body weight. She doesn’t shy away from contact. If anything, the grip on your shoulders tightens. A choice between crunching numbers all day for Steve Rogers, possibly never moving up in the company. Stuck under someone else's thumb. This offer from Wanda felt like a step up somehow. And despite not being much of a materialistic person, you cannot deny that a chance of a raise sent a thrill through you. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, feeling the slow rush of excitement setting in.

“I choose you and Natasha.”

“Good choice, honey.” She winks at you again before turning to wrap her arms around you. Your head rests briefly on her shoulder. Wanda pulls away, her hands resting on your upper arms, thumbs stroking back and forth. Your eyes lock for a brief moment, as you smile at each other. Wanda’s mouth hangs open the slightest bit with a smile.

Wanda’s office door opens, and you jump in your seat. It breaks you out of your trace, but Wanda doesn’t move. Her fingers are still stroking your arm.

“Good Morning, my love,” Wanda’s voice is full of love as you both look over to see Natasha. She is breathtaking in high waisted black trousers, and a low cut satin white blouse. The clicks of her stilettos barely audible as she moved. Her curly red hair pulled in a braid down her back. For a moment you felt like the world stopped as you took her in. Sure, Natasha had hired you. But if you were being honest, when you knew she was going to be in the office you would purposely stay glued to your desk. Steve would have meetings with her in his office, and she would always be sure to say hello to you.

“Good Morning,” Natasha’s voice is always throaty and low. She pauses before making her way over to you and Wanda, “I see that you’ve already started, I’m sorry for being late.” She leans down, and kisses Wanda. You divert your eyes, not wanting to seem like a pervert.

Wanda said nothing to you about Natasha being here this morning. Natasha settles herself in Wanda’s arm chair. Carefully she takes a manicured hand and picks up a strawberry from the fruit platter. Her cherry red lips wrap around the berry, and she hums in delight. Your hands, which are still on Wanda’s arms, tighten as you watch Natasha. She pats your arms with her hands, and releases you.

“Let’s get the paperwork together, and then we’ll get you settled.” Natasha sets the leaf of the strawberry on a napkin. Before sitting back in the chair. Her arms resting lazily on the arm rests, as she looks at you. Meanwhile you have a death grip on your thighs. Wanda holds up the signed NDA, making it clear to her wife that your lips were legally sealed. Natasha nods her head with a smile.

“So Y/N, how does it feel to be free of grandpa Steve?” Wanda stands, and passes by Natasha. Wanda ran a love hand up Natasha’s extended arm. You stare at Natasha, convinced that your face is the color of a cherry tomato. Her eyes clearly amused at your flustered state.

“Well, I don’t think I’m going to have to teach either of you how to work Excel. So it’s definitely a step up.” You mutter.

Natasha lets out a low chuckle. She is the picture of ease sitting in her chair. Her confidence radiates off of her, and part of you feels a bit envious.

“You’re right, Wands,” she says before taking a sip of her own coffee, “she is funny,” Wanda hums in response, as she carries another stack of documents over to you. She sits down next to you. Your legs brushing up against each other lightly. To your surprise it’s Natasha who speaks next. Your eyes lifting to meet her green orbs. Her features have gone completely neutral. So different from the playful woman who sat before you just moments before. Wanda lays the contract on the coffee table at your knees.

“Read the contact over, carefully,” Natasha waits for you to nod your head before continuing, “Your salary, living arrangements, days off, are your decision. However, I will not pay you over $150,000 a year, and you cannot take more than 3 months off a year. Your choice of apartment must be within two blocks of Wanda and I.” Natasha’s voice hangs heavy in the air. Has the room always been this humid?

You think you’re going to be sick from the rush of adrenalin. $150,000 a year and moving? You were barely making $40,000 in your current position, and your lease wasn’t up for another six months. Wanda notices the shift in your body language, and places a gentle hand on your back. Her thumb rubs circles into a knot in your lower back, and you fight the urge to squirm under her touch.

“Read it over, dear,” Wanda’s voice is soft in your ears, and obediently you pick up the contract.

This agreement establishes The Terms of Employment between the following parties:

Wanda Maximoff-Romanov and Natasha Romanov (Referred to as Party 1)

And

Y/N Y/L/N (Referred to as Party 2)

Party 2 is herein referred to as a “The Assistant’’ and is set forth to be available to Party 1 on a 24 hour; 365 day basis.

The parties hereby agree to the following provisions as the terms and conditions of The Assistants Employment :

The Assistant must live within walking distance of Party 1’s home apartment;

Party 1 is to help The Assistant settle into her live quarters under the terms of the contract;

Neither party may discuss the contents of the contract with any unapproved persons;

The Assistant is to keep all personal matters which involve Party 1 confidential unless Party 1 approves of the individual ;

Clothing

Food

Material Indulgences

Affection

Open Communication

You continue to flip through the Agreement, digesting that you will have to move in order to fill this position. What will your father think? You wonder briefly before you remind yourself that if your father wanted to have an opinion on your life then he would have to be an active participant. Rather than a judgmental asshole who swoops in to kick you when you’re already down. The reminder of his very existence has you grappling for a pen.

“Where do I sign?” You say with an air of confidence looking up at Natasha. Her red lips pull into a smirk. Her eyes darken, and she leans forward in her seat. Her elbow resting on her knee, and a hand holding her face. Wanda's thumb stills on your back, fingers tightening. You fight the urge to lean further back into her touch.

“Last page, sweetheart,” Natasha’s tone is warm, and you feel your insides fuel with excitement as you sign your name above the dotted line. The details could be sorted through later. Right now, all you could think about was the thrill you felt under Natasha’s gaze, and Wanda’s hand on your back.

TAG LIST: @Whitewidowsbite @Marvelcnt @Cherlenovix @Blackwidow-3 @Santana1437 @Madelineleong @tbpandtswiftfan

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deliciousangelfestival · 8 months

Text

Nero Rose || Mob!Steve Rogers

Character: Mob!Steve Rogers x Detective!Reader

Warning: None

Words Count: 1,539

Summary: She has bad blood towards the famous gangster leader called Steve Rogers. With his influences, he sent her to the outskirts city. Then one day, you received a called that said Steve Rogers wanted to talk to you. When you come back and meet him again, something terrible happens.

This is the story of the enemy-to-lovers.

A/N: Reblog and any feedback are much appreciated. I love reading all your comments. 💖😘

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

A crowded street, sounds of car horns, smell of piss. All the little things made you miss New York.

It's been 8 months since you left the city. It wasn't your choice to be exact. You left because the head of the police demoted you from detective to traffic police.

You want to protest but it's impossible since your opponent is the powerful mob in the city.

Steve Rogers is the king of the mafia. His power in business, politics and network in the underworld made him unbeatable. No one can bring him down.

Until you did.

You found the drugs and weapons that connected to Rogers. You got him good. And the media and citizens also support you.

But you have no support when it comes to law and politics. The almighty Steve Rogers has given money to the judge and governor that could give them a third family. He also paid the best lawyer.

In the end, he only spent 3 nights in jail and went home. While you got sent to the outskirts city. You hate your boss and everyone. It took a while for you to accept the new life you have.

When you started to let it go, you suddenly got a call from the chief of police.

-Flashback Start-

He said, "Steve Rogers got stabbed."

You don't understand what's the point he told you this "Cheers for me. You want me to attend his funeral? I will wear white."

"He's still alive."

You scoffed "Too bad."

"He's a victim but he doesn't want to talk. He said that he only wants to talk to you."

-Flashback End-

That's why you return to New York. You want to see the look on his face, being pale and weak after getting hurt.

But before that, you're going to buy flowers. A gift for sick patients. You picked a perfect one for him. At the flower shop, you pointed at one flower. "I want that one."

The shop employee is an elderly woman. Her name is Sienna. You've known her since you were a kid. She's a joyful and funny grandma.

Sienna raised her eyebrows and looked at the flower you chose. She picked the flowers one by one. "That's an odd choice to visit a sick person. It means 'You're dead to me.'"

You smirked "Is that what it means? Even better."

You gave her the money after you received the flower bucket. "You're the best Sienna. I'll see you tomorrow."

She gave a warm smile "Bye, Y/N ."

You arrived at the hospital and immediately saw one of his trusted right hands. Bucky Barnes. He's standing outside while smoking.

He put out his cigarette when he saw you "Detective Y/N."

You rolled your eyes "Fuck off. Where is he?"

Bucky scoffed and brought you to the VIP room. Before he opened the door, you could hear people talking, and laughing from inside the room.

When the door got open, and you walked inside, everyone turned silent and looked at you. All of them are wearing black suits.

8 months without seeing any mafia made you forget that you just entered enemy territory.

You gathered any courage that you had and walked towards the patient. You expect Steve to be pale, weak, and lying motionless on his bed since he got stabbed.

But your expectations betrayed you. In front of you, Steve Rogers is sitting like a boss with a half robe opened that shows his torsos tattoos. His hair even got combed to the back. He doesn't look sick.

"Aww, you bring me a gift. Thank you detective Y/N."

There it is. He always finds a way to make you angry. He knew you're not a detective anymore. You hate to admit it, even though he's a jerk, gangster, and narcissist. His face and his body are your type.

Many fish in the sea but why do you have to like a man like him?

You clicked your tongue and then gave the flower to him "I ordered this for your funeral to be honest."

"Thank you doll." He handed the flower to his subordinate. "Did you buy this from the Sienna flower shop?"

"How did you know?"

"From the wrapping paper, the ribbon. I'm her loyal customer." He winked at you.

Well, that's something you learned from him. Perhaps he bought flowers for his girlfriend.

You cleared your throat then grabbed a note and pencil from the pocket of your leather jacket.

"So what kind of person would dare to stab the gangster leader? That culprit must be crazy or a serial killer."

Suddenly the room turned quiet. Everyone is looking at you, including Steve.

"You're right. Not even my rival dared to pick a fight with me. I could feel it. It's not them."

You crossed your arms "Why did you ask me to come here?"

"Since you left the city is not safe anymore. See? I got hurt. And, perhaps I missed the time we spent together."

You gritted your teeth. Geez, his words could make anyone misunderstood. The moment you spend with him is at the court or police station.

The police station became an event. Paparazzi is always there, the media, he even invites a private chef to bring his lunch and dinner.

When you interrogate him, he always has wine beside him. It's impossible to make him stop since he got the best lawyer Matt Murdock. The famous lawyer who defends crooked people and always wins.

You should've known that you have lost.

"Enough with the jokes. What do you want?"

"I'm offering you a chance to come back. I want you to investigate my case."

"Why?"

Steve tilted his head a bit "Because… I don't know. Maybe because I like playing with you."

You raised your voice "So you made me fly 4 hours to come here just for this?!!!"

Steve nodded.

Oh, how he loves to see you being mad. That's his plan from the beginning. He still holds the grudge for you to make him stay in jail for three nights.

-Flashback Start-

Steve was furious for sure when he got the letter from the court. He is the mobster leader in the city. How come a newcomer detective like you has the guts to put him to jail?

The audacity of ungrateful people. What's the point of bribing the police every month? They should've put a good leash on their member.

Every second and every minute all he can think about is what he should do with you if both of you meet. Quick death or slow death.

But he thinks of another plan when he finally meets you face to face. You're a new sheriff in the town. He wonders what kind of brilliant mind you have that made you able to catch him.

When you interrogated him, you were fierce and fearless. Even the chief of the police told you to calm down but you wouldn't listen.

Since that moment you got him interested.

-Flashback End-

You suddenly stood up and sighed "If I had my gun, you would be bleeding right now."

"Is that a threat detective? Because I'm scared."

Bucky shook his head by looking at both of you. He turned his head to watch the TV. He widened his eyes when he saw the headline news.

He turned up the volume "Steve, you should see this."

Both of you stopped arguing and looked at the TV.

"Breaking news. Another stabbed victim at the well known flower shop called Sienna Flower's. The victim is a 77 years old female. Witnesses said the victim was closing the shop when she got stabbed. The paramedics informed us that the victim got stabbed on the chest and lost her life on the way to the hospital."

You gasped. "Sienna." You couldn't believe it. You just left the shop for an hour and something terrible happened. You lost your old friend.

On your left, Steve only sees red. He clenched his fist. Sienna is a sweet old lady. His mother always went there and he always bought flowers from that shop for his mother.

What kind of heartless person wants to hurt a kind person like Sienna? He will chase the culprit until the end of the earth.

"Boys."

"YES BOSS!!!"

"Gather everyone to check on that area. Everyone gathered all the information. I will kill that person by myself."

All his subordinates left the room after they got the order.

After they left, Steve tried to stand up from his bed "Urgh."

When he touches his left waist, you finally see his wound. It's still bleeding.

"Are you crazy? You can't move yet."

You're right. The stabbed wound was deep. If the painkiller runs out, this wound will be painful. The doctor told Steve that couldn't move his body freely for a week. And he doesn't want to get another stitch.

Suddenly he got an idea.

Steve leaned his body towards you and whispered in your ear, "Detective do you want to work together to catch who killed Sienna?"

You looked at his eyes. It never crossed your mind to work together with gangster leaders like Steve Rogers. But with his mafia connections, you could catch the culprits quicker.

"Heck yeah."

A/N: Reblog and any feedback are much appreciated. I love reading all your comments. 💖😘

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

#chris evans characters #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x y/n #mob!steve x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #captain america

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gaysindistress · 10 months

Text

When Night Comes - ten

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mob!Bucky, cursing, major character death mentions

word count: 2.3k

nine | masterlist

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom @thebuckybarnesvault @buckybarnessimpp @hidden-treasures21 @unaxv @thebuckybarnesvault @elizacusi-blog @mal-adaptive-dreams @vonalyn

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Wyatt, the sweet boy, is playing with her mother’s hand when the car pulls up to the jet. Peggy slides her phone into her pocket as Steve puts it in park and rushes to engulf them in a hug. Too close of a call is how he might describe the events at Sunny’s apartment. When Sunny gets out, Wyatt wiggles out of his parent’s arms and tackles her with the strongest hug he can muster.

“Ms. Sunny, Mommy said you were coming with us on a trip!” She forces a smile when she confirms, “It’s going to be so much fun, bubby.”

Bucky walks behind her and gently grabs ahold of her arm to walk her toward the jet. For the sake of Wyatt, she doesn’t try to pull her arm away and lets him guide her. The boy runs back to his parents and they all climb the stairs to the jet. Yelena is the last one to board with a redhead woman in tow. They’re talking to each other in hushed tones and grow even quieter when they see that Sunny is watching them through hooded eyes.

Bucky leads her to the seat towards the back and sits next to her. Yelena and the other woman sit across from them while the Rogers take their seats in front. Wyatt tries to get a look at all of them but is quickly buckled up by his mother.

“Any word on Alix’s whereabouts?” Bucky asks the two women.

The redhead speaks, “She got into a car with Juliette and head east but after four miles, we lose sight of them. All of their known hideouts within a 20-mile radius are clear but Wanda and Peter are still searching.”

“And Jessica?”

She grimaces at the name, “DOA.”

Sunny chokes and covers her mouth so that the sobs are muffled. Wyatt asks Peggy why she’s crying but she quiets hum. Yelena gives her a sad look and goes to offer her hand which the redhead blocks with a shake of her head. Bucky is closest to her and therefore should be the one to comfort her. He takes her free hand in his and gives it a light squeeze. Rather than dropping it like he expected, Sunny grips it back and turns to face the window.

Her brother laying dead in her arms flashes across her mind and she snaps her eyes shut to will away the painful memories but it doesn’t work. The sirens and EMT chatter fill her senses as she processes that her best friend was not only working with her ex but is now dead. Sunny didn’t even get a chance to come to terms with the betrayal but it doesn’t matter because Jessica’s gone now. The one constant in her life since leaving California no matter how fake it was, is gone now and she’s left with a team of supernatural creatures to protect her. Any shred of hope for normalcy is gone now and the lack of warmth in Bucky’s hand is too harsh of a reminder of that but she can’t let it go. Even if he is the last person she would want to support her, he’s all she has now.

“Yelena,” the redhead, Natasha, says to Yelena, and jerks her head to the side, “Let’s give them space.”

She agrees and they move to join the Rogers. The jet begins its take-off sequence and Sunny continues to grip Bucky’s hand while watching her life disappear once again.

Fresno to New York and now to Bucharest.

Tall grand buildings line the narrow roadways and echo the history that the city has seen. The moon shrouds the city in an ominous light as a few people scurry to get inside before midnight. Only a brave handful wait for the old black car slowly cruising down the cobblestone road and whisper amongst themselves. As the years have passed fewer and fewer people know who this car belongs to but the elders are still painfully aware of its owners. When the driver makes eye contact with the brave onlookers, they give a brief nod and rush inside.

Sunny had yet to speak and refused to look away from the window to watch the city around her. She’s not holding Bucky’s hand anymore but is practically glued to his side. He, Yelena, Natasha, and Steve are all speaking to each other in another language, no doubt talking about Alix and her whereabouts.

“Unde naiba ar fi putut să plece?” Where the fuck could she have gone? Bucky says in a low tone, gripping his hands together tightly to calm himself.

“Crezi că știe unde suntem?” Do you think she knows where we’re at? Natasha offers up.

Peggy twitches at the thought and shudders but not for the same reason as the others.

“Cum a putut?” How could she?

“You can speak in English. I already know what you’re talking about,” Sunny mumbles still facing the window.

Bucky glances over at her before switching back, “Are you sure? I don’t want to upset you.”

“It’s not like I can’t figure it out from your tones.”

“I think we’re done talking anyways,” Natasha says, pulling out her phone and typing away.

Bucky shoots her a harsh look, “We can’t find Alix but we’re safe here. Lycan is banned from Romania so it would be a death sentence if she even tried to come here.”

“As if that’s stopped her before,” Sunny says in her normal tone now turning to look at Bucky, “you said I would be safe in New York but Jessica is dead and I’m in Europe against my will. Can you call that being safe?”

“I didn’t kidnap you.”

“That’s what you focus on? Me accusing you of kidnapping me?”

“Well, I didn't so.”

“Be so fucking for real right now.”

He gives her a blank unamused stare in place of words.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes which causes him to do the exact same. The tension grows thick and the only person immune is Wyatt who is fast asleep on his mom’s lap with his head resting on her shoulder. Steve looks back at Bucky to judge his emotional state but the blank look he has pulled across his face gives no indication of what he is feeling. The only thing Steve can gather is that he’s not pissed off enough to lose his cool but that point is coming very quickly.

“Do me a favor and leave me alone from now on. I’m sick of your shit,” Sunny tells the man who’s been plaguing her every thought for months now. She wants in reality; she wants him in her life and to act like how did at the kickback turned party but she also knows that Bucky is a ghost now. The flirty and carefree Bucky she started to fall for disappeared almost as quickly as he appeared, a thought that tugged at her heart and threatens her emotional state.

“Fine by me,” he agrees with a level of childishness that makes her want to scoff even more. The large, imposing man is not immune to the pettiness that everyone craves to act on.

Wyatt makes a small noise akin to a whimper and everyone jumps into protective mode. Peggy shushes him and gently rocks him back to sleep, easing everyone in the car’s worries. Sunny crosses her arms over her chest and looks back to the landscape outside. She might have once been excited to visit Europe but not in this context with these people. A bittersweet memory this will be.

Peggy quickly puts Wyatt in a bed and checks that he is still asleep as she dials Alix’s number. She gives the room a once over before talking to a very angry Alix.

“Margaret tell me what’s going on?”

Peggy nervously looks over at her sleeping son, “I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“No no, you don’t get to do this to me. Don’t back out now. Remember you wanted this. You FOUND me and asked for my help.”

“You didn’t tell me about Y/N so I think our deal should be called off. You withheld information from me.”

“Says the one who asked me to kill your husband’s best friend. How do you think Steve would feel if he found out?”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Really? I think I would,” there’s a pause, “Did you get that witch to hex his gun?”

“Yes but…” “But nothing. Get him to shoot it and follow through with the plan like a good little bitch. It shouldn’t be that hard, he’s a mob boss anyways.”

There’s a click and the dial tone replaces Alix’s voice. Peggy wants to scream and shatter her phone but the sleeping child only feet from her stops her. Instead, she sinks to sit next to him and lays behind him. Cuddling her son, she starts to cry. The years of unhappiness take over and she lets all of her tears flow. She had met Steve in the 40s when she was visiting New York after she graduated high school. Immediately enthralled with his sweet smile and gentle ways, she spent those three weeks running around the city with him. He showed her everything she’d wanted; freedom and unconditional love but it came with a cost. She would have to leave her life behind and join him and Bucky in their business. At the time, she had been blinded by the winds of her first loved and agreed before fully understanding what his conditions meant for her. Peggy refused to go back to England and married Steve the day she was supposed to leave. He swept her off of her feet and brought her to the house they are in now, the Bucharest estate. Then is when she learned the full story of who Steve was and who Bucky was for that matter. She had been horrified and rightfully so. Steve hadn’t told her about their illegal business or their true nature and it came as a massive shock to her system. The only person who provided comfort was Bucky’s wife, Celeste.

Celeste had been with them since they turned 100 years prior. She had been a vision of heaven and a spitting image of Y/N. The two women were identical down to their smile and laugh. Celeste told Peggy stories of how she fought Bucky for years before finally agreeing to marry him when their love began to blossom. When it came time for Peggy’s turning, Celeste had been right by her side the entire time and walked her through every step of the way. The day Bucky found her body in the river nearby in New York, his screams of agony could be heard for miles. A rival mob had gotten to her and done unspeakable things to her. Peggy felt like it was her fault because the two women had vowed to each other that they would protect each other when their husbands were gone. She had failed Celeste, something Bucky never forgave her for, and ever since, he had given her the cold shoulder. Peggy couldn't take it anymore and turned to the very mob that had taken Celeste to now take out Bucky.

It had been Alix’s great-grandparents who had murdered Celeste so it only seemed fitting that she be the one now to end Bucky’s life. The emergence of Y/N had complicated things seeing as how much he had changed since meeting her but the plan was too far gone and she couldn’t stop it.

Peggy had already hammered the final nail in Bucky’s coffin with no way to open it.

The only remaining picture of his bride had been locked away in his room shortly after she’d died. In his grief, he had all of her pictures and belongings put into her study, permanently locking away any memory of her. One small portrait from their wedding day remained on his bedside table and he all but refused to look at it. Only Steve and Peggy knew of her and what she looked like however that didn’t stop him from pursuing Sunny. Bucky knew it was wrong; chasing after a lookalike in hopes that she would match his Celeste. Imagine his surprise and joy when Sunny did mirror her in every way down to how she pushed him away at first.

Trying to replicate what they had would not end well for him but he had been assured by witches that Celeste would return to him and here she was. Bucky watches the doppelganger… Sunny walked down the halls of their home, head moving quickly back and forth to take in all that she must have missed. It had been just shy of 80 years since she had been home and he could only imagine the yearning her heart must have been feeling. His heart has ached nonstop since her death and now that she stood only feet from him, it began to slow to a dull throb. Sunny did not love him in the way Celeste had but she would or at least that’s the hope he clung to after all these years. It’s the only option and he would do anything to ensure that she found that love he knew she had for him.

I love you. Always and forever.

That had been their promise to each other. Sunny would learn that phrase too and soon would echo it back when he held her at night.

Just not right now.

So with a heavy heart, Bucky seals away her feelings and hopes she has the chance to find her way to him. She had to do it on her own without his influence or it wouldn't be true as the witch told him. Sunny’s hand itch to touch the paintings that line the walls and she looks over her shoulder at him in amazement. It crushes him to see the same look that she had when they picked out those paintings but nonetheless, he offers her a half smile and turns his attention anywhere else.

Always and forever needed to come sooner.

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