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sarahowritesostucky · 3 months

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📖Make it Stick: Pt. 1 The Dragon

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Mature

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 1103

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

“Да. Good. Make sure she stays that way. Now, tell me everything.” Bucky listens to his henchman’s answer, pissed in general but only getting truly angry when he hears one specific detail. “She was with who?! Ублюдок!!” He takes the phone away from his face for a second as he curses in three different languages. Fucking Gleb. He fucking knew it. He’s going to cut his fucking dick off! When he brings the phone back up to his face, all he utters is a deathly quiet, “We’re in the Dragon’s Den. Get them here. Both of them.” He ends the call.

The gun at Bucky’s back has stopped buzzing. Funny, how it’s the sudden lack of pain that makes goosebumps rise to his skin. “Boss?” Natasha asks.

Bucky’s eyes flick over to Steve, who’s sitting next to the Karpovs on the couch. One moment of intense eye contact between the two of them, and Steve’s face goes wan in recognition. Tight-lipped, Bucky gives an almost imperceptible nod of confirmation. Steve squares his shoulders and pushes up to standing to go over to the bar. The guy has an almost preternatural ability to predict Bucky’s wants and needs, which is one reason why he’s risen through the ranks so fast (well, it's one, leastways). He artfully flips a lowball, knowing what this situation calls for without having to be told; ice and two fingers of the Russo-Baltique that’s so expensive, Bucky once stabbed a guy’s hand into a table for drinking it without permission.

Steve delivers the glass and retreats to stand sentinel along the wall. Bucky sips, sets it down, growls and grabs it up again. He rolls the liquor in his mouth as he fumes, a dark plan starting to form in his head. It comes together quickly, because it’s not like he hasn’t spent plenty of time fantasizing about it before now. What he’d do when he finally got her back.

His little one is tenacious and likes to make trouble. She has a penchant for running away, but she’s never lasted this long before. It’s been over ten months—long enough to put the fear of God in Bucky that he could actually lose her for good, if he isn’t more careful. So, he has to be careful, has to make a statement, send a message. He has to make it stick.

Luckily, when it comes to “sending messages,” Bucky Barnes can be very creative. Like tattooing, torture is an oft underappreciated artform. “Dimi,” he barks. “I’m expecting some special guests tonight. Go and sort things out downstairs. I want the place packed by ten—Make sure it’s with the right people.”

“Boss?” Lev pipes up, confused. He’s Karpov’s kid brother: new, inexperienced but eager, still “earning his scales,” as the boys like to say.

Dimitri jerks his head for his brother to follow him. “Boss wants a demonstration. C’mon.” He’s already got his phone out as they leave the room to get things arranged. Bucky’s “demonstrations” usually require plastic sheeting and a crowd of people who are either Hydra themselves, or else educated enough to know to keep their mouths shut about Bratva business.

“Where’d they find her?” Steve asks.

Bucky scoffs, still fuming. “Floating off the coast of Belize. On my own fucking yacht. Can you even believe that?”

“Sounds like her.”

“Lena?” Nat hums. “Who’d you send?”

“Maximoff and Belova have her.” Bucky grits his teeth at the sting as Natasha uses a wet cloth to wipe off the excess blood and ink. He can feel her scrutinizing her work. “You can keep going,” he tells her, but she ‘tsks’ in that way that only a Russian tongue can really do.

“We’ll come back to it. Skin behaves differently when you’re not relaxed.”

“I’m am relaxed!” He hears how ridiculous he sounds and heaves a long sigh, trying to let his shoulders untense to at least somewhere below the level of his ears. “I’m relaxed.”

“Keep saying it and it might come true.” Nat rolls away on her stool, peeling off her gloves with finality. “Your blood pressure and vodka’ll push the ink out faster than I can stick it. Just come over to the Red Room once it’s done scabbing and we’ll finish it then.”

She’s already packing up her stuff when Bucky gets the idea. “Wait.” He narrows his eyes at the rolling toolkit that Nat keeps in the club’s upstairs lounge just for him and his men. “Do me a favor,” he says slowly, the idea taking shape in his mind. “Run down to the shop and print out a transfer for me. Cyrillic. A small font. Something pretty but … bold. Easy to read.”

Natasha tenses. “What do you want it to say?”

“собственность дракона.”

“No,” she says, and when Bucky looks over, she’s standing ramrod straight.

“Clearly, you disapprove.”

“I’m not inking it.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he snaps, low on patience tonight, even for Natasha. “Print it out on a goddamn transfer sheet and bring it to me.”

She’s doing that dead faced thing she does—where she goes still like a doll to avoid making some expression she doesn’t want you to see. Right now, Bucky suspects it might be sheer disdain. “Size?” she asks. “Shaping?”

“One line straight up the forearm. Delicate lettering, but clear as a fucking bell to read.”

“That still doesn’t tell me what spacing—”

“You know how big she is, you figure out the fucking spacing!” he yells. “Or what the fuck am I even paying you for?!”

Natasha goes eerily still, then abruptly pivots to leave, the severe line of her hair whipping around with the motion. She’s unhappy with him.

“Red ink!” Bucky calls out, the door slamming shut after her a millisecond later. He grinds his teeth together and stands up from the chair he’s been perched in for the past three hours, carrying his drink over to the mirrors so that he can get a better look at his back.

Scales, teeth, claws. Crouched and curling across his shoulders, tendrils creeping up onto his neck, marking him as what he is: Дракон.

The Dragon.

“Will you help me?” he asks Steve, quiet now that it’s just the two of them.

“Depends on what you want me to do.”

“It depends”—No other man in the Bratva could give such an answer and expect to remain in one piece. But Steve’s gaze is steadfast when Bucky meets it and tells him, “She’s gotten away with too much for too long. It’s time to shorten the leash.”

In the mirror, Steve’s eyes darken. He nods.

Take me to part 2!

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abbatoirablaze · 5 months

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Delivered, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, minor manipulation, minor domination, dubcon/noncon relationship.

Part 3 of 3.

Part 1, Signed

Part 2, Sealed

“If there is any reason that anyone here should find that these two should not be joined today in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace!”

You looked at the congregation through your thick veil, and it was like a room full of crickets. No one so much as even moved an inch. Your heart thudded heavily in your chest as your eyes searched, prayed for someone to stand.

Your eyes snapped to Steve’s and you could see him grinning ear to ear as the priest continued, “Steven and (Y/N), you are now joined in holy matrimony. I present you as Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. Steven, you may kiss your bride.”

Steve was quick to raise your veil and sweep you into his arms and an even more intense, searing kiss. One that instinctively had your eyes closing and your toes curling. The passion both turned you on and made you sick.

While you wanted to hate him for it, it was like your mind went blank and you allowed yourself to lean into it. You had hated him as children, but ever since the other night, there was something in you that made you drawn to him.

As your thoughts wandered to how he went from the sickly child who could have been knocked over by wind that was too strong, to how he was nothing but one hundred percent man, you felt his hand slip a little lower from your waist to your ass as he spun you and pulled you back to his chest. His fingers kneaded you through the fabric and he gave you a devious grin as your hands went up to tangle in his hair, he pulled away from you.

You gave him an owlish look while the congregation made up of your family and friends cheered for your union, all of them unaware of the fact that you knew what he was going to do in just a few hours time.

“I’ve got so many plans for us!” he promised as he turned the two of you towards the congregation. Steve raised your hand in his before pulling you towards the aisles so that the two of you could go to the reception.

You moaned as your husband’s cock kissed your cervix again and again. Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as your mouth fell open in a silent moan and your back arched away from the wall, he had you pressed into.

His panting was heavy, the warmth of his breath fanning heavily over your neck as he pressed open mouth kisses along the column of your throat, “Casso, principessa. Sei cosi stretto. La tua figa mi sta soffocando il cazzo.” (Fuck, princess. Your pussy is choking my cock.)

“S-steve!” you whimpered, your nails digging into the fabric that covered his shoulders, “St-Steve. Steve!”

“Giusto. Gemi il mio nome!” (That’s right. Moan my name.)

“I-I don’t-oh god!” you moaned as you tried to stave off your orgasm, “Steve-we-FUCK!”

You sobbed against your orgasm as it came crashing over you all over again. His thick length driving so deep into you that you could feel him in your stomach.

He pulled away just enough for his lips to messily catch yours.

It was a battle of tongues and teeth as you tugged on his bottom lip with yours, needing to be dominative over something.

He growled, his hips bucking deep inside of you. Your core shuddered violently around his cock, and you let go of his plump bottom lip, moaning so loud you knew that your sisters had to have heard the impromptu consummation of your marriage before you even hit the reception.

“God, it’s so funny to see how the tables have turned after all these years,” Steve moaned as he broke the kiss yet again. His hips stopped thrusting and you quickly came back to reality as his thumb grazed over your own swollen lips, “been in love with you since we were kids, and you acted like you hated me the whole time…but right now…fuck, princess…I bet I could have you begging on your knees for my cock…you wanna be a dirty little slut for me…for your husband. You’re pretty little pussy is strangling my cock like it’s the only thing you need!”

You went to open your mouth, but his finger went over it.

“You don’t need to speak, sweetheart,” he smirked, keeping you silent. His hand slid away from your mouth and down your throat. You felt your cunt clenching around his cock as he stopped at the base of your throat. His brow lifted as his eyes met yours once more, “I can tell what you like just by the way that tight little pussy clings to me…you like this…don’t you? Like the idea of the danger even though you know I’d kill myself before I’d ever harm a hair on your head…is that what you wanna feel, princess? Danger? Wanna feel my hand on your throat as I fuck our future into you? God, you have no idea what you do to me…what you’ve always done to me…you made me everything I am, princess…made me fight to be the man I am today!”

“Steve-“

“And fuck…that body,” he groaned, as his hands slid down your chest, cradling your breasts which had been pulled out of the corseted top of your dress earlier so that Steve could play with them, “god, you have a body made for sin…puberty did us both well, didn’t it, (Y/N)?”

Your eyes flickered down to his kiss swollen lips, and even lower to his chest, the fabric of which was straining over it. The top button had been all but ripped open earlier in a fever as you pulled him into the closet, not knowing what had originally come over you.

His hands guided you to sit on his lap as soon as the two of you got into the limo.

You didn’t expect him to be rock hard.

Matter of fact, you had planned a very well-thought-out argument of how it was sexist for him to just assume you would be sitting on his lap.

But it had quickly gone out the window when you felt his hardened member even through the fabric of your dress.

And the look that he gave you…

It made you want to take him in the limo.

What was coming over you? And why were you becoming crazy over the man you hated as a child?

“We only have a few minutes,” he reminded you with a soft taunt as his hands ran up your chest. He smiled even more, seeing the tops of your breasts over the top of the corseted dress. He leaned forward, pressing gentle kisses on the tops of them. You shivered as his scruff gently scratched at your delicate skin, “so beautiful.”

“Ste-“

“Don’t speak,” he begged as he pressed his lips to yours in a hurried kiss. His hands slid up your body and he massaged your breasts before pulling one out, his mouth making quick work of kissing the exposed flesh until your nipple hardened under his touch, “I’m going to show you the world I built for us…and that starts with me making sure you never doubt how much of a man I am, again! Right now…I want you to feel that manhood…do you feel it, princess?”

You moaned out a yes, nodding as he took your nipple in his mouth. He held you firmly on his lap, grinding his hips upward and rocking against you through your separate clothing, while he tugged on your nipple ever so lightly as his hands wrapped around your waist so that he could bury his face against your chest.

You were having sensory overload.

How did he know what to do to drive you crazy?

“I’ve got so much in store for us,” he moaned as he latched onto your breast once more. Your eyes widened as he tugged your nipple between his teeth, teasing the sensitive nub. Your hands went to his hair, tangling in the sandy tresses, “oh god…keep tugging on my hair like that…I’m already so close to filling you up…give me a reason to not stop until I know you’re pregnant.”

Your eyes went wide, and like being doused in cold water, you sobered up immediately, attempting to push him away from yourself, “Steve…wait. I don’t-“

“No, no…” he pressed on as you squirmed against him, “we can’t stop now…not with how your pretty little pussy is milking me…that cunt wants to be full of me…and I’m going to give her everything she wants! I promised to build us a future when we were younger…it starts here…now!”

“S-Steve…stop!”

“Gonna give you everything, my love,” he promised as he closed in on his own high, “and it all starts tonight…first thing I gave you was my last name…now I’m giving you a baby! Maybe if we’re lucky it’ll be more than one…”

“St-“

He was quick to cover your mouth, and you bit back another whimper as you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

Your stomach turned as you heard how the announcements for your reception had started, and your brother Bucky was introduced with his wife. Your heart broke as you knew that just a few feet away your family and friends were joyously awaiting your entrance as ‘Mrs. Rogers,’ while your new husband was having his way with you…doing whatever he wanted.

“FUCK!” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. You whimpered even more as you felt the warmth of his spend making your stomach feel full. His face flushed, and he looked at you through sweetly sinister eyes. His other free hand stroked your cheek as a tear slipped down it, “oh baby…don’t cry…we’re married. This-this was what we were meant to do, right? Build up the five families…can’t build up the families if we aren’t making one ourselves…but don’t you worry, okay? Tonight’s just the start…I know we don’t have much time. Shit…I think I heard them announce Buck…”

He removed his hand and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as he pulled out of you.

You felt hollow as he tucked his softening cock back into his pants and quickly moved towards the door. You could see just over his shoulder as the door to the reception opened once more, and they announced your sister Becca and her husband, Thor.

You pushed your dress back down over your lower half while you felt Steve’s cum starting to drip down your inner thigh.

He closed the door and rushed back to you, pressing another kiss to your lips as he straightened out his tie and then helped lift the top half of the dress once more so your breasts were contained in it, “we’ll pick this back up on the way to our honeymoon…promise…have a good little flight all lined up…we’ll christen the whole thing!”

“H-honeymoon?”

Steve smirked as he fixed your veil, placing it back on your head, “of course…I mean, if tonight didn’t take, I know we’ll at least have another month at one of my family’s estates in Tuscany…god you’ll love it there…nothing like those dreary old brownstones your parents have in London.”

You felt a fear raising up in your stomach as you looked at him, “Wh-what do you mean?’

“Baby…one way or another, before Christmas, we’re announcing the fact that there will be a new little Rogers baby…I told you I’m going to give you everything,” Steve smiled, “I told your father that the day that he agreed to let me marry you. I promised all of us a legacy. And we’re only just getting started. Now come on…we can’t miss our own entrance.”

You felt like a robot as he took your hand in his and ushered you out of the room. Winnie and Clint had just been introduced as your elder sister Bethany looked at you over her shoulder. She gave you a sympathetic look as her hand fell to her own stomach.

It was like she knew what you were going through because she had gone through the same things.

It was then that you noticed the way that Sam was holding her. It wasn’t romantic, but possessive.

Had all of your sisters gone through the same thing?

‘It’ll be okay,’ she mouthed to you as the door opened yet again and the MC announced her and Sam, ‘I love you.’

Steve wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you towards him in the same way that Sam had held your sister, and your stomach turned yet again as he gave you a smirk, “looks like we’re next, Mrs. Rogers. You ready?”

#marvel au #marvel #the avengers #steve rogers #captain america #signed sealed delivered #mob au #mafia au #dark steve rogers #steve rogers smut

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navybrat817 · 7 months

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Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense

As you lovelies know, October is a time for tricks, treats, and more. While I don't have anything planned for Kinktober, I do have some nonsense in mind. Still with me?

Similar to my Naughty & Nice Nonsense, I plan to share various one-shots and ficlets throughout the month of October. Each pairing will be revealed on the day I post and shared on my sideblog, @navybrat817-sideblog. It may be dark, fluffy, smutty, or a combination of things. It may be 500 words or over 3k. It may incorporate an Autumn or a Halloween theme. Who knows? It's nonsense! 😂

In fact, I'm calling it Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! I'll be using that as a tag, so feel free to filter if you don't wish to see these fics. Moodboard and banner by yours truly. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Enjoy! 🧡

🎃 - 10/3 - Within You (Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Reader)

🎃 - 10/6 - Easy as Pie (Andy Barber x Reader)

🎃 - 10/9 - How Far Down (Mickey Henry x Reader)

🎃 - 10/12 - Rules and Chaos (Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

🎃 - 10/15 - The Red Woods (Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Reader)

🎃 - 10/18 - Teacher's Pet (Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

🎃 - 10/21 - Hollow (Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

🎃 - 10/24 - See Through You (Dark!Nick Fowler x Reader)

🎃 - 10/27 - Jump Scare (Motocross!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

🎃 - 10/30 - Mission Report (Incubus!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Incubus!Steve Rogers)

Love and thanks to you lovelies for the support. 🧡

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Everywhere You Go

Warnings: this fic includes implied noncon and coercion, mentions of crime and abuse, and explicit sexual content. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The day your husband is released from prison is the day it all falls apart.

Characters: Mob!Tony Stark, Steve Rogers

Note: This is my entry for @the-slumberparty Week One Writer’s Activity. My prompts were Isolation + Mafia. I included all three items.

So I kinda tried something new... let me know what you think.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like the boys love milkshakes. Take care. 💖

The screen flicks to black. You stand with your arm outstretched, remote still aimed at the television. Your heart drums behind your ears as the banner sticks in your vision. ‘Stark released on mistrial’.

The remote slips from your fingers as your arm drops to your side. It’s like you can see the air around you, feel it suffocating you as you breathe it in, as if you’re wading through muck. You turn and lean against the armrest of the sectional, hanging your head as you try to stop the spinning sensation.

You steady yourself and stand straight. You look down at the tremble in your hands. That you can’t stop. You go to the window and look out at the fading yellow grass and the peeling wood fence. This is supposed to be the end. It is supposed to be safe.

You tug the curtains shut and turn to lean against the wall. You hug yourself and stare at the rug’s edge, the slightly fraying fabric trims the worn wooden boards. You shudder and sink down to the floor, hiding your face in your hands.

“Girl like you deserves diamonds,” Tony’s fingers tickles your collar bone as he plays with the circle cut diamond, a weight reminder of his hold on you. “And every guy who looks at you, deserves to know who you belong to…”

Goosebumps rise as the shadow of his touch brushes over you with the breeze that slips in the open window. Your teeth chatter though it’s barely cold enough to be anything more than balmy. You drag your fingers down to your neck to make sure there’s nothing there. No necklace, no collar, no leash.

He’s gone. He doesn’t know where you are. You made sure of it. But that was when he was behind bars.

You can never be safe so long as he’s free.

A week passes without occurrence, assuring you that your paranoia got the best of you. The idea of Tony getting out is hardly comforting but you’re safe. You’re protected. You’re not alone.

You go about your usual routine. A breakfast of fruit and steel cut oats, a cup of espresso with a hint of cream. You watch the birds hop over the top of the fence and the bees buzzing around the dandelions.

You have walls, you have food, you aren’t in pain. You’re safe. You keep reciting that fact like a mantra. Safe. The word becomes gibberish the more you think it.

You retreat and rinse out the small cup and set it on the rack to drip dry. A simple existence. It’s all you ever longed for in that lonely house, adorned in gems, stuck in his trap. You never wanted any of that. Not even him.

You take the basket from beside the front door and pull it open, the warmth of the sunshine fading away as you stop short on the threshold. You look down at the long stems wrapped in a white bow. The peachy orange is the same shade as those you held on your wedding day. The basket blows out of your hand with the sudden gust that surrounds you.

You stare down between your feet at the dainty petals. It can’t be. Here?

You look out over the meadows, sprawling, lush, and green. Nothing but the ripple of the wind as it blows over the tall blades. You step back, leaving the basket to roll away and the flowers where they met you. You shut the door and lean on it, a hand on the wood as your heart hammers.

You need to leave. Now.

“Flowers,” Agent Rogers bends to scoop up the bouquet, “really?”

“It’s not a coincidence,” you insist, “I know I sound crazy but I also know Tony. Better than anyone. You know that too.”

“I can’t exactly tell the higher ups that you got some flowers. It’s not exactly grounds for relocation,” he turns the bunch in his hand and examines the white ribbon.

“Right,” you say, deflated, “but– you have everything. Go back in the evidence, check the wedding photos. Rosa Independence. A twisted joke, I know. He said he liked the colour.”

“The more I learn about the guy, the more I hate him,” he pushes his golden hair back and drops his hand, pulling back his sleeve to look at his watch, “gotta call it in. Probably won’t have a decision right away.”

You nod, uneasily shifting on your feet. You don’t know how long you have to get away. Maybe you’ll have to do it without him. Pack a bag and just go. Wherever you can.

“I’ll see if I can stay. Standard security procedure. No reason for us to take this too lightly,” he lays the flowers across the oak table that play centerpiece to the front room, “no one should know you’re up here. So, even if they’re not your husband’s attempt at reconciliation, they’re a very pointed statement.”

“Thank you, Agent Rogers,” you say breathily, “I’m sorry.”

“Doing my job, nothing to be sorry about,” he says as he pulls out his phone.

You give a half-hearted smile before he strides out. You sit inside as his low tones waft in but you can’t make out the words. You can’t focus enough to try as the curling orange petals mock you.

“I’ve been waitin’ all day for this, sweetheart,” Tony purrs into your neck as you feel the thorn stems catch on your dress. He leans you over the suede car seat as he nuzzles your throat and nips. Not even halfway to the reception and he’s got your veil askew, your skirt hiked up past your thighs. “I’m gonna fuck you just like this, every day for the rest of our lives.”

The door hits the frame and draws you back to the present. Agent Rogers tucks his phone into his jacket, “looks like I’m posting up here for the night.”

You nod, speechless as the memory lingers in the back of your head. You stand and cross the room, refusing to look at the table.

“Please, can you throw those away?” You eke out.

He’s quiet. You turn your head and watch from your peripheral as he nears the table and lifts the bouquet, the petals rustling softly. He looks at them and puts them to his nose.

“Sure,” he answers at last as he retreats with the long stems, “never understood why roses were seen as romantic. Too many thorns.”

“Kinda like marriage,” you scoff as you face him again, “thank you, Agent.”

“I’m gonna be here a while. Steve is just fine.”

“Can’t be too careful,” Steve says as you stare at the side mirror, watching the sun fade behind you.

“Yeah,” you say mindlessly and shift in your seat, “I’m sor–”

“Stop it,” he admonishes as he adjusts the air conditioner, “you’re sorry cause what? I chose to be in WITSEC as much as they chose me. I knew what I was getting into.”

“I know but I–” you swallow and rub your throat as it bobs, “I guess I’m sorry for a lot of things. I lived a long time with a man who took without thinking. By proxy, I did the same. I… was too afraid to do anything but let him.”

“The mistrial wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

“Maybe,” you shrug.

“It’s not. It’s the f– the bought and paid for judge sitting on the bench. You know Stark, he’s got hands in everyone’s pockets.”

“I know, but… I shoulda known better.”

“You did what you had to. That’s all we can ever do,” Steve says, “why don’t you turn on some music, gonna be a long ride.”

You clamp your lips shut and reach forward to flick on the stereo. You flip through the curated stations until you find a retro pop channel. No chance of AC/DC. His favourite.

You sit back and lean your elbow on the door and cradle your forehead. The skyline blurs by as you try not to think. That never works. It’s impossible. He’s always there, looming in the back of your mind. Just like he had for all those years.

“Must be hard,” you sit up, “doing what you do and having a family. I can’t imagine…”

He’s quiet as his eyes focus through the windshield and he switches lanes. His grip loosens on the wheel as he smoothly evens out. “Easy, actually, I don’t got a family.”

“Oh, well…”

“Don’t you feel sorry for me. I know you don’t have anyone either. I mean, I got friends, at least.”

You sniff and fold your hands in your lap. It was only ever Tony. You weren’t allowed to have friends. Friends were dangerous. Friends talked. He wasn’t stupid. Everyone was just playing politics, trying to take his throne. Did he ever suspect his own wife would turn him in to the DEA?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve says as Cher’s voice drones sonorously from the speakers, “I mean, I… I guess I don’t know what I meant. I see all the guys I work with, they got wives they leave at home, births they miss, family dinners they’re never home for. I just don’t want all that. I don’t want anyone to let down.”

“Fair,” you rub your upper arm as you glance at the rearview. For a moment, your eyes meet, placid but warm blue irises with a tint of green, “and I know you didn’t mean anything. I chose my path too. Tried to, in the end.”

It’s late. You’re restless. Like any night since the day you saw your ex on the news walking out of the courthouse. More so since you came to this new safehouse.

Maybe it’s the unusualness of having company or maybe it’s the circumstance. You’re hiding, as good as running from your husband. You knew you always would but it just feels so futile. Like you can’t get far enough away. Like there’s nothing that can hold him back, not a cell or the justice system.

It was like he always said, Tony Stark always finds a way.

You flip on the lamp as you enter the living room. The small apartment is unremarkable. You suspect that’s deliberate.

The blinds are always done and not much sunlight gets in. The place is a dour and grim contrast to your former abode. You miss the freedom of the fields and the optimism of the skies. Even if you had neither, the illusion was there.

You take the novel from beside the base of the lamp where you left it. You notice the spine is bent in a new place. You examine the curling corner of the cover, your bookmark exactly how you left it.

“Interesting story,” Steve says as he enters.

You pop your head up in surprise and rest the book against the edge of the table. Your coexistence grows easier by the day, the week, nearly a month now. His presence is comforting. If he left, you’re not sure you would stay. He kept your fear from getting the best of you.

“I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you up,” you let go of the book and face him.

“I was awake,” he gives a slanted grin, “I was just sneaking out to… grab a book.”

“This one,” you push your fingertip to the cover. He nods guiltily.

You look over at the shelf against the wall. He follows your gaze and scoffs.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, “but none of those are holding my attention.”

You turn back to him. He’s in nothing but a pair of grey joggers, unabashed as the vee of his pelvis peeks out above the elastic and his muscular torso tempts your eyes. You focus on his face and grasp the book, sliding it off the table. You cross to him.

“All yours,” you hold it up to him, “I’m too tired to read.”

He gently brushes his hand over yours and takes the book. He’s close. Very close. You can smell his sweat beneath the dissolving layer of deodorant. You can even feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Night,” you catch a yawn in your palm and go to sidle past him.

“I could… read to you. I think I’m a bit behind but if you don’t mind a bit of backtracking–”

You look him in the eye, amused by the suggestion. He wants to read to you, like a child?

“You can close your eyes, listen,” he suggests, “might help you sleep.”

“You don’t have to do that, Steve, but I appreciate it.”

He nods and averts his eyes. His cheek ticks, “I… would you mind humouring me? I don’t know, this place, I can hear everything. I just need something to distract me.”

You smile, a small expression of commiseration.

“Sure, I… I think I need that too.”

You don’t know how it happened. The gasp that escapes you is as much from the realisation as the pleasure of the situation. Steve’s tongue glides up between your folds as you arch your backs, the sheets twisted around your body as you writhe. You bring your thighs up, clamping them on either side of his head as he coaxes to his whim.

Just like any other night, you sat beside him and listened to him read. Nothing very riveting, a novel about a man on the run. You slumped against his shoulder and his hand rested on your thigh before you succumbed to the tension. You didn’t think, you just did.

And there you are, puffing and whining as this man covets your body. As his hands explore your thighs and hips, gripping, groping, kneading, feeling everything with intense admiration. Your fingers twine into his golden hair, urging him deeper.

It’s been far too long since you felt affection. Well before your husband. The intimacy is nearly overwhelming, nestling along your eyelids and threatening to overflow as you bask in the fiery warmth. A man, this man, touches you like you are a true treasure. He doesn’t drag, and fling, and bend you like a toy.

You tug on his silky locks, moaning his name as he follows your desperate motion. His wet lips graze your stomach, smearing between your tits as he lifts himself over you. He hovers above you, his breath sweet with your flavour. You frame his face between your hands.

“Make love to me,” you beg, a ridiculous statement from a ridiculous dime store romance. But there’s no other way to say it. You want to be loved, not flaunted, not used, “please, Steve, I need–”

He crashes his lips into yours, humming as he swallows up your words. You feel his need, his desire, the same desperation coursing through him. You sling your arms around his neck and welcome him in. Even if it’s only convenient, you want to feel him. You want to feel everything he makes you feel.

For once, you get to choose what you want.

“Steve,” you croak as he opens the car door, shoving you in as the streets like gleam in your eyes, “where–”

“Be quiet and get in,” he orders as he ushers you into the seat.

The door snaps before you can say anything else. He quickly moves around the hood and gets in the driver’s side. He turns the key and the engine rolls over. He says nothing as he backs out, his hand on your headrest as he cranes to squint behind him.

He veers out of the lot and onto the street. You buckle your belt just before you can slide forward into the dash. You brace the door as he slows and steers neatly into a lane. You wipe the sleep from your eyes.

He sighs and pushes his head back, “we stayed too long… we… we were stupid.”

“Steve,” you sniff, “I know but…”

“It was nice,” he admits, “it really was but– Fuck, I could lose my job.”

“I’m sorry, Steve, I never should’ve–”

“I made the first move,” he clucks, “please, it’s my own fault. I just wanted it to last forever.”

Your silent as your vision blurs and you look out onto the street, the tall lightpoles bleary as your tears obscure them, “me too.”

“North. There’s a safehouse. That’s where they’re sending us. You.”

“What? Are you… are you leaving?”

“I have to. Orders. Procedure. I have to hand you off to a new agent.”

“Oh,” your chest pits and you hug yourself, “so this is goodbye?”

He frowns as yellow light flashes through the windows and illuminates his features. He grips the wheel and exhales heavily. His cheek dimples as he nods.

“We have leave to stop at a motel north of Cherrywood. We’ll say goodbye there.”

Steve takes the backroads. The trip is both slow and too fast. The end draws closer and closer with an inevitability that makes your heart ache. You don’t love Steve but you’ll miss his easy confidence and his warmth.

You don’t say much as the wheels roll on. You don’t know what to say. Your respite at the hotel only left you feeling worse. All you were losing was left back in that rented room. All that you’ll never know again. You know as well as Steve that this is a one way trip.

“Wilson’s a good guy,” he breaks the silence, “nice. Easy to talk to.”

He’s not you. The thought stays where it belongs as you lean your chin in your hand, “I’m sure.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“Mhmm,” you sit back and cross your arms, “where am I going?”

“Another safe house, I’d think. The less people know the better, right? That’s the order of things.”

“For how long?”

He shrugs. You scratch your neck as you stretch it. You’ve been in that damn car so long, every part of you feels compressed. You square your shoulders wide and push your legs out as far as they’ll go.

He falls back into his former lull, following the winding road between the dense crowd of evergreen. It’s oddly desolate. Even in daylight, the trunks are shrouded in blackness. You watch the passing of the great sentinels as they blur into each other, errant branches on the forest floor and twigs littered at the edge of the road.

You’re drawn from your mournful rumination of what you’re leaving behind and the mounting dread of what comes next. You look up as the tires slow and you see a dark vehicle ahead, at the dip of the next valley. Steve eases onto the brake as he pulls up, a man against the hood of an SUV waits in a dark blue jacket and sunglasses.

You look over at Steve. He gives a nod then glances back through the windshield, “Wilson.”

He doesn’t wait for you as he climbs out. You follow only after a minute, trying to gather a semblance of calm. You’ve done it before. You did it for years on Tony’s arm. You can do it again. Everything is fine. You’re fine.

“Well, here she is,” Steve announces.

“‘Bout time. I’m pretty sure I saw a bear waiting on your ass,” the other man, Wilson, comments.

Steve looks back as you linger by the car and waves for you to come forward. Reluctantly you drag your feet across the cracked tarmac. The other man flips up his sunglasses and considers you from head to toe.

“All yours,” Steve says coolly. His indifference stings. He’s acting, he has to.

The other man pushes away from the front of his car and nears you. You wince in surprise as he reaches to your belt. Before you can react, he has your hand and hooks a leather cuff around your wrists. He tightens the buckle and you try to pull away from him.

He jars you with a mean yank and twists your arm behind you. As he fumbles to secure your other wrist, you whimper, “Steve.”

Steve raises his chin, the sunlight reflecting in his crystal blue eyes. He turns to you and smirks, “that’s Agent Rogers.”

“What’s going on?” You struggle as Wilson latches onto the link between the cuffs.

“Protective custody,” Steve declares as he comes closer. You frown as you bat your eyes, an icy dagger sinking into your chest with each step, “doll, it was fun while it lasted, wasn’t it?”

The room is freezing. You don’t expect any different. It’s one of his warehouses. Wilson brought you there, left you on that metal chair, cuffs hooked around a bar along the back, one on each ankle, binding them to the legs. You shiver and drop your head, waiting.

You knew. You knew all along. From the day you walked into the police station. It could never work. You could never escape Tony Stark. He can buy anyone; you, Steve, Wilson…

A metal door rolls open loudly and clangs back into place. Footsteps echo across the concrete. As you raise your head, a shadow appears in the dim of the large door frame. A bulb above you hangs on wire, casting a sobering hue over you.

Tony steps into the umbrella of light and you sit back, raising your chin defiantly. It never does much to pout, to play nice. It’s too late for that now. You both know what you did.

He stops in front of you, pushing the bottom of his jacket back to rest his hand on his pistol. You watch the movement, thumb brushing along the butt. You take a breath, ready.

“Hi, Tony,” you look him in the eye.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he steps closer and brings his other hand up to cradle your jaw, pushing your head higher, “I missed ya.”

You laugh sharply, “missed you too.”

“You know, a man goes away for three years and finally gets free. He’s lookin’ forward to coming home to a warm bed, a warm woman,” his thumb caresses along your cheek, “then he finds his house as empty as his cell.”

“Let’s not do this,” you say, “get it over with.”

He tilts his head and his mouth slants. He sucks his teeth as his eyebrows rise in resignation. He sighs as he toys with your lower lip. You feel him tugging at his belt and brace yourself. You wait, expecting the kiss of the hard barrel against your temple.

A cold metal blade slides down the top of your shirt and slices through the fabric. Tony pulls back as he cuts to the hem, the fabric falling open. You cringe and turn your face away. He rescinds the knife and spins it in his hand.

“Honey, you’re home,” he says, “and we got some catching up to do.”

#tony stark #dark tony stark #dark!tony stark #tony stark x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #one shot #drabbleshot #mcu #marvel #mob au #au #avengers #captain america #sam wilson #falcon #iron man

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awhhhflush · 1 year

Text

The Meeting

Mob!Bucky x Reader x Steve Rogers (Massive warning - this fic is dark.)

I'd recommend listening to this for this chapter!

Warnings (apply to the whole series): drugging, mafia/gang activity, criminal activity, age gap (reader is over the age of 18), arson, death, murder, coercion/peer pressure (non-sexual), manipulation/brainwashing, parental issues (a.k.a daddy issues), abuse of power, sort of stockholm syndrome?

Summary: Left to your own devices whilst your mother joins socialite groups with the other rich moms in town and whilst your father deals with those business troubles he's been having, you decide to explore your surroundings, and make a new friend on the way.

Fine. Maybe a miniskirt and Mary Janes weren't the best fashion choice for exploring the woods down the street, but you were yet to have unpacked the entire contents of your wardrobe. It was the best you could do. Besides, it would hopefully make a nice impression on anybody who saw you. The outfit painted a sweet, innocent, girl-next-door picture of you that you rather enjoyed. The plaid skirt went nicely with the cardigan you wore, which was perfect for the autumn chill. You promised your parents you'd be home by lunchtime, and surprisingly enough, your father let you leave without assistance. That was probably his first mistake, unbeknownst to you.

As you stepped out of the house, the October breeze hit you like an avalanche, a shiver running down your spine instantly. The shiver was also impacted by the eye contact you made once more with the man across the street, however. Your hands immediately flew to your skirt, tugging it down as much as you could to avoid judgement, earning a chuckle from the man. Although he was rather far away, you still heard his laugh and it sent an unfamiliar warmth to your core. You shuddered at your own avidity. You both paused for a moment, neither of you wanting to be the first to break the gaze, until he turned on his heel and gave you one more glance before entering his own home. Relief relaxed your shoulders, and you let the huff of air you must have been holding in slip from your lips. You clutched your bag as your stomach began to ache with hunger. Maybe it would be nice to have a picnic date with yourself in the forest.

The walk to the grocery shop, which perched on a corner flooded with crates of flowers and fruits, was thankfully rather short. You picked up a punnet of berries and some cookies, receiving both lustful and judgemental looks from most of the other customers. The cashier, who just so happened to be a suited, well kept man, whom was insanely buff and broad, that owned the shop itself, simply watched you in curiosity. You smiled warmly at him and thanked him as you left, the bell on the top of the door frame dinging sharply as you stepped out. Peckish, you bit into a perfectly crimson strawberry as you made your way to the woods your father had driven past on your way to the house. The juice of the berry stained your lips as you chewed and hummed contently. It was delicious.

The leaves under your feet crunched faintly, crisp and warm toned. The forest was riddled with overgrown greenery which had now grown limp and dry, but it was beautiful all the same. Ivy creeped up the trees, embracing them tightly. The grass was somehow short amidst the dying leaves and bushes. The trees cast a shadow over the entire forest. The place had a simple yet eerie beauty to it. Perhaps you could visit here more often. You found a tree, twisted and distorted, its trunk reaching out the the ground among the thorns and nettles. You settled upon the trunk, leaning against the upward twist of it. It was a perfect place to sit and relax. This place only got better.

You'd just dug into your berry mix as you heard a deep grunt sound before you. Your gaze snapped up, meeting the intense eyes of the man across the street. Your body immediately tensed under his watch. "We must stop meeting like this," he chuckled, the same sound from earlier reverberating through his chest, which was, much like the shop keeper's, exceptionally broad and muscular, his sweater fitted just enough to outline the muscles perfectly. You smiled softly, still nervous as his eyes burned into you. He held his hand out to you, offering it as a greeting. You shook it lightly, your small hand enclosing around his in a way that made his eyes darken. You didn't notice, though. You were too busy trying not to melt under his gaze. The man was incredibly attractive - it wasn't your fault that he flustered you so much. His dark hair was gelled lightly, stray and short curls framing his face. His eyes were a vibrant and deep blue, somehow radiating an alluring darkness despite their brightness in colour. He towered over you, and you were sure he would even if you weren't sat down. His shoulders were wide and his arms were large and rugged. His jaw was defined and sharp, brushed with faint stubble which was strangely attractive. Whilst it made him look older, it made him all the more handsome. His lips were plump and pink, in a constant state of soft smiling toward you. Between his brows was a crease, similar to the kind that frustration or anger would bring. But he wasn't angry or frustrated - at least you didn't think he was. Despite the time you felt you had spent scanning the man's features, seconds had not yet even passed. He seemed to freeze time. "I'm James," he breathed, "but my friends call me Bucky," and a smirk tugged at his lips.

"How does James turn into Bucky?" You giggled, playful confusion washing over your features. He hummed a laugh, leaning nearer to you. "When you become a friend." He purred. Your smile dropped, now replaced with a blank and flustered stare, heat rising in your cheeks. Bucky could've sworn his pants got tighter as he watched the blush erupt in the apples of your cheeks. You shook your head softly, the smile returning to your lips as you composed yourself and steadied your breathing, eyes bearing into his. "I mean where did the name come from." You simpered. "My last name's Buchanan," he explained, his eyes flickering between each of yours. The moment was oddly intense, sending warm shivers through you. Your stomach broke out in frenzied butterflies. "Oh," you breathed, and with that, a content silence settled upon the both of you. After a few seconds, Bucky broke the silence. "I was just about to go on a stroll," He said smoothly, his eyes shining with mischief. "Care to join me?" And his hand brushed against yours once more.

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

Comfortable silence had lingered for long enough, and Bucky wanted to hear your voice again. The leaves crunched beneath your feet as you walked, but Bucky's deep voice broke through the haze that nature's ambience has lured you into. "So, where'd you move from?" He asked, turning to peer at you as you did the same. "Leesville," you muttered, nostalgia washing over you. You'd never had the most exciting social life, but Leesville had still been your childhood home. The look of gloom that clouded your expression made Bucky's hand move on it's own. He reached towards your face, hand cupping your jaw as his thumb swiped over your lips. "Strawberry juice," he mumbled softly in response to your look of surprise. Once again, the blush he had reacted so extremely to before sprung back to life, an almost inaudible groan sounding from his throat instinctively. You blinked at him, the same blank expression settling on your face, your lips parting as you exhaled shakily. You couldn't wrap your head around how easily this man was effecting you, this stranger, this new friend.

The two of you spoke and walked until the sky began to darken, when the realisation that lunchtime had long passed hit you. A small gasp left your lips, as you spun to face Bucky. His eyebrow quirked in confusion, to which you yelped, "I was supposed to be back home for lunch!" You absentmindedly grasped his hand and began to rush back the way you came, before his hand tightened around yours, the realisation of your action falling over you. You quickly dropped your hand and continued speed walking until you passed the tree you had sat at. Huffing, and clutching your chest in exhaustion, you heard Bucky catch up with you, his strides long and steady. "I'll walk you home. Besides, you're a big girl, I'm sure your parents won't mind." He insisted. You just stared at him as he began to walk ahead of you, glancing back at you just how he had that morning, until your senses came back to you and the panic clouding your mind subsided. He was right. You were old enough to get home a whatever time you wanted - except, it was more so to do with your safety than your age.

Rounding the corner and approaching the both of your houses, Bucky cleared his throat. You looked at him expectantly, and your mouth hung slack when you processed what he had to say. "Would you like to have coffee with me tomorrow?" He'd asked. This man, this god-carved hunk, the most attractive man you'd admittedly ever seen, was asking you, a girl he'd only just met, a girl at least 10 years younger than him, out to coffee. You'd assumed he only walked with you out of politeness, because he'd bumped into you and introduced himself. You'd assumed he was only being courteous because you had just moved in. But no, he had walked with you because he, James Buchanan, wanted to walk with you. He, burly Bucky, wanted to spend time with you. It was his eyes, exploring yours in expectance, that bought you back from the depths of your thoughts. You gulped, unable to verbally accept his offer, and nodded. You were eager, don't be mistaken, but you'd never had any friends. You knew you were attractive, but to be thrown from your typical lonely state into a state of possible romance shook you. Bucky, leaving you just as he had greeted you, chuckled in response and shook his head at your obvious nervousness. "How does 11 work for you?" He asked, not even expecting a verbal answer anymore. You only nodded again, before quickly heading up your porch steps and into your strangely quiet home, leaving Bucky behind you, smirking, eyes dark and hooded.

Author's Note: Okay, I'm quite nervous to publish this... this is my first time allowing my writing to include outward sexuality. I'm hoping it isn't too cringey? This is also my first series! So I'm hoping it turns our nicely. Enjoy!!

Taglist: (comment to be added.) @chemtrails-club

#mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes #mafia au #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #mob steve #mob steve rogers #mafia steve rogers

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cevansbaby-dove · 4 months

Note

One from the naughty list: "I've been watching for so long, I can't wait any longer." Enjoy ^_^

Okay being how much of a smutty mode im in i'll write this.

Steve rogers X reader bestfriend.

Warnings:smut. 18+ please!

Prompt will be in Bold.

Summary: After You catch Steve's eye at a avengers Christmas party you make a move after you two have been flirting on missions so Steve just had to have you all to himself 😈

You walk into the tower in a gold dress with black heels

You look around the room smiling seeing everyone talking and having fun, Tony sees you and says. "Y/n there you are" he hugs you. "glad you came to the party" You smile. "glad to be here tony it looks like a lot of fun"

Steve looks at you across the room but you don't see it so he walks over to you. "Hello doll good to see you"

His eyes scan up and down your body you know he is undressing you in his mind. "Eyes up here Cap" You smile. He says. "ahem sorry you look...amazing" You bite your lip. "Thank you"

Everyone is chatting it up when steve's hand wraps around your slim waist pulling you close to his body. "having fun darling?" You look up at him and smile nodding. "yes captain"

He looks around and says in your ear. "we could have more fun alone if you'd like"

You bite your lip at his words and say. "Lead the way" He takes your hand and slip away from the party.

You two end up in a spare bedroom and steve says as he locks the door. "I've been watching for so long, I can't wait any longer." he presses a kiss on your red lips.

You pull him closer to you. "Steve..." he keeps kissing you as you walk to the bed and fall on it to see Steve undo his tie and discard his jacket then you kick your heels off and steve leans down after he takes his dress shirt off placing a kiss on your neck. "you thought you could tease me in that dress doll hmm?"

You smile. "that's wasn't my intention sir" Steve looks at you and says with a small laugh. "yea right"

He helps out out of the dress and you reach for his belt. "fuck Cap i need you please" Steve says as he runs his hands all over your skin. "take it easy doll....."

he works his dress pants off then your eyes go to his bulge biting your lip he chuckles. "oh daring it's big cus of how turned on i am" He slides his boxers off and says. "ready?" You nod. "and you said i was a tease"

He pushes into you making you jump. "Shit!" He moves slowly. 'Shh i'll be easy on you doll i won't hurt you" You moan. "steve...fas...faster please" He looks at you. "you sure?"

You nod. "don't make me ask twice" He picks up the pace. "fuck doll you feel so good....not going to last" You moan. "hmm steve..."

Steve keeps his pace up and he says. "you going to cum? i can feel you so tight around my cock darling"

You moan telling him yes. "Steve i need to..let..let go please" He says in your ear. "let me cum first ok?" he grunts when he says that cumming in your clit. "oh god"

"He isn't here doll only me..." You cum panting. "ah! fuck steve..." he kisses your face before pulling out of you. "Was i to rough?"

You sit up grabbing your dress and underwear putting them back on. "no you were perfect just like i thought you would be'

Steve grabs his stuff and says as he dresses. "you've thought about us?" You stand up. "is that ok cap?"

he wraps his arms around you giving you a kiss. "yes" he says with his lips on your head. "come on we should get back out there before people come looking for us"

You and steve walk out and get back to the party. With you bright red.

A/n whew this was so hot and thanks for the ask! Reblog and comments help me keep writing. love you all!

Taglist:@cutedisneygrl @patzammit @armystay89 @k-slla

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myfanficlibraries · 1 year

Text

Steve Rogers

Alpha!Steve

1) Grain of Truth by @biteofcherry Soft Dark Series

2) Halloween With Your Werewolf Knight by @witchywithwhiskey Princess Reader Smut

3) Why Can’t We Be Friends by @cockslutpadalecki

Fluff

1) Air Conditioning by @bict

2) Hand Holding by @angrythingstarlight Biker!Steve

3) Nice to be Kneaded by @rogersideup Nomad!Steve Ongoing Series

4) Society Says by @invisibleanonymousmonsters Tall Reader

5) Threadbare by @ronearoundblindly Completed Series Some violence

6) Too Many Wingmen by @beccaanne814

Mafia AU

1) As Long as You’re Mine by @secretswiftymarvelfan

2) Cherry by @biteofcherry Enforcer!Steve Smut

3) Heart’s Munition by @crazyunsexycool Ongoing Series Single Mom Reader

4) Mafia!Dad Steve Rogers by @sweetsbfreex

5) Nesting by @biteofcherry Soft Dark

6) Sink Into Me by @simmerandwrite Ongoing Series

Smut

1) Cuffed by @sidepartskinnyjeans

2) Music to My Ears by @royalsweetteaa

3) Overstimulation by @myfictionaldreams 40′s Steve

4) Steve Rogers Alphabet Masterlist by @universitypenguin

Soft Dark

1) In the Balance by @goodgirlofglory Ongoing Series

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #soft dark!steve rogers #alpha!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers master list #steve rogers masterlist

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biteofcherry · 2 years

Note

but mafia!steve PLS 🫠🔥🫠🔥😌

Nesting

mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings: soft!dark Steve Rogers; mafia!Steve Rogers; possessive behavior; forced relationship; unplanned pregnancy;

~ * ~

With a smile on your face, you tucked the envelope inside your handbag. A precious picture you were so scared to see at first, but now it filled you with warmth and love.

Well, your morning sickness definitely didn’t fill you with any positive feelings, but the doctor said they should lessen in a few weeks, once you start your second trimester. It was all still so new, so fragile to consider its development. But you already hoped for the best.

You tossed into the bin the paper towels with which you wiped the ultrasound gel off your belly and put your jacket on. The nurse waiting outside smiled at you, gave you a stack of leaflets and a list of necessary appointments.

She directed you to the main reception, so you could book the next needed one.

Just as you were writing down in your calendar the date of the next ultrasound, the lady behind the desk remembered something and said to you:

“Oh, I almost forgot! Your husband is waiting for you outside.”

You stared at her, confused. She had to mistake you for someone else, clearly.

“Husband? I don’t-”

“Yes.” She beamed. “Handsome fellow, but it seems he’s just as scared of clinics as the rest of men.” She laughed.

“You sure he’s here for me?” You asked hesitantly, an idea of who might it be already forming in your head. Terrifying you.

“I’m sure. He gave all the information on you.” The woman’s face flashed solemn, her tone professional as she assured you of the thorough check. “I admit, even my own mom sometimes forgets what year I was born in.”

“Thank you.” You forced out a smile, but your heart was hammering in fear.

You have no idea how he found you. Even less how he got so much detailed information about you. But then again, you shouldn’t be surprised now that you knew who he was.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The ruthless head of the New York mafia who was more lethal than a viper already sinking its teeth in your ankle.

And who, to you, was just a very hot man you hooked up with a month and half ago.

You met Steve in a fancy club your friends booked a booth at - apparently it was a club so exclusive getting a booth in it was nearly impossible. Now you understood why.

You’re not sure why you caught his attention when there were so many beautiful women in the place that night. But three flutes of Prosecco in and you were bolder than usual. You agreed to accompany him in his VIP booth while your friends went crazy on the dancefloor.

He disarmed you with his focus on you, his eyes never straying to any other woman. A charming gentleman who made you melt with the few moments of movie-like fairytale feeling.

And when he whispered into your ear how he wants to eat you out until you pass out from pleasure, you almost spread your legs for him right there in the club.

Steve took you to his place - an elegant penthouse, in a building you later learned belonged to him. A one night stand turned into whole weekend of him fucking you senseless and spoiling you with fancy food delivered to his apartment.

He also made you do the most depraved things; no one else has ever made you come just from fingering your ass and talking dirty to you.

Like he promised each time he was buried in your cunt, Steve filled you to the brim.

You leaked his cum even as you got home late on a Sunday afternoon - Steve’s driver dropping you off in front of your modest flat.

The result of his filling woke you up a few weeks later, making you vomit your guts out each morning. With your period being unusually late there was only one explanation.

At first, after you confirmed the pregnancy with your doctor, you planned on telling Steve. One night or not, he had a right to know. But you didn’t have his number, nor did you remember the exact address where he lived. So you googled him.

And the articles made your head spin.

You thought it’s a misunderstanding. Just a coincidence, but then one of your friends complained to you about her boyfriend - a cop - being angry that you went to a mob-owned club.

Further prodding revealed that The Shield club belonged to Steven Rogers himself.

You could no longer fool yourself with coincidences and similar names. In an instant you made a decision to never put your foot anywhere near the club and to hide from everyone who exactly was your baby’s co-creator.

So as you kept it to yourself, building a lie (not so far from the truth) about it being a result of a reckless one night stand, you started to forget about the real father. Sometimes you even calmed yourself by repeating he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with it anyway.

But there couldn’t be anyone else claiming to come for you by posing as your husband. And Steve had the influence to learn all the details about you, if he wished.

You cast a glance at the main entrance. He was waiting for you there. To do who knows what to you.

If he didn’t want the baby being born and you refused to get rid of it… a man like him would simply get rid of you to erase the problem.

Perhaps you didn’t stand a chance against the power of someone like Steve Rogers, but you could try saving yourself and postponing the inevitable. For a little while, at least.

Pivoting on your heel, you went in the opposite direction. You didn’t know if there’s a back exit and you feared asking anyone, but the restroom you used earlier had a window facing the park and it was only on the high ground floor, so the risk was minimal.

You smiled at a woman who was washing her hands when you entered and pretended to lock yourself in the stall. When you heard the door closing after her, you left the stall and opened the window.

You dropped your bag first, then sat on the windowsill and swung your legs over it. Carefully, you lowered yourself down, hands clutching onto the edge. You took a deep breath and let go, landing softly on your feet without much trouble.

“Shouldn’t be doing that in your state, sweetheart.”

A smooth voice startled you.

A familiar voice.

You could still recall the praises he moaned in your ear when you trembled beneath him.

You turned around sharply, heart jumping to your throat as you faced him.

Steve stood a few steps away from you, his back resting against the side of the sleek, black car parked on the sidewalk. Dark aviators shaded his blue eyes, but you knew he was watching you like a hawk, ready to react if you fled.

You frowned, surprised to see him here, considering the receptionist told you your husband was waiting at the front.

You looked in the direction where he was supposed to be. Steve’s chuckle drew your attention back to him.

“Fawns like you are predictable.” He said with a smirk.

“Now, come on,” he called your name as he moved to the side, opening the car door, “get inside.”

You didn’t even stir. You simply couldn’t, frozen in place out of fear and shock. A thought of running passed through your mind, but you were never a fast runner and you predicted Steve would be more pissed if he had to chase you.

That he would catch you was undeniable. With his long legs and stamina that drove you into almost passing out a few times.

Steve sighed when you didn’t follow his order.

Unhurriedly, he walked over to where you trembled, plastered against the coarse, concrete siding of the building. He crouched down to pick your bag then slowly straightened.

Fuck, you didn’t remember him being this tall and broad.

Steve slid his aviators down to the tip of his nose, his icy blue eyes piercing through you. He traced the shell of your ear with a single digit, then trailed it along your jaw. He pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger before saying firmly:

“Get in the fucking car, sweetheart.”

This time you obeyed. He gave you no other choice as he guided you with his hand pressed against the small of your back.

You slid onto the backseat, curling in the corner against the opposite door. Steve got in right behind you. The moment he closed the door on his side the locks clicked in, trapping you inside with him.

The partition between you and the driver was pulled up, though you assumed Steve’s men were loyal to him enough not to react to a woman screaming for help.

“How do you find this clinic?” Steve simply asked, dropping your handbag on the seat on his other side. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to reach it without having to pass him.

“What?” You stared up at him, confused.

“I’ve heard it’s good, but I can get you into a top-shelf place.” While you were tense and strung up, Steve sat next to you completely relaxed. He took his sunglasses of, spread his legs wider.

You wrapped your arms protectively around your midsection, tears stung beneath your eyelids as you considered the potential meaning of his words.

“I’m keeping the baby!” you blurted out. Right that instant you knew you were ready to fight till your last breath to save your child.

Steve cocked his head to the side as he looked at you, a twisted warmth filling his eyes and making his smile even more charming.

“As you should.” He praised you.

He reached for you, wrapping an arm around your back and pulling you to his side. With his other hand he swatted your arms away from your belly and spread his fingers over the curve that would soon start swelling.

“You’ll give me more, too.” Steve hummed, his eyes glued to where his hand laid.

You were speechless. Initial fear of being forced to lose the baby turned into a completely new terror.

Steve’s words didn’t cut your life short, but they built a long, gilded-cage waiting for you.

“It’s about time I started nesting.” Steve chuckled, his hand moving to cup your chin and tilt your head back. “I don’t mind doing it with a sweet, little bird like you.”

He pressed his lips against yours gently, almost sweetly, as if he was a tender lover doting on his beloved. Then his tongue teased the seam of your mouth. When you didn’t open right away he bit your bottom lip, making you gasp and forcing his tongue inside.

You told yourself it was fear and adrenaline, but your nipples hardened and your pulse quickened.

“First things first-” Steve pulled away.

He took one of your hands and brought it to his lips, peppering kisses on each of your knuckles.

“We have to get you an engagement ring and order wedding bands as well.”

“Steve, I don’t understand-” your heart pounded so fast it rushed blood to your head and made you dizzy.

He intertwined your fingers and brought your clasped hands to his chest, just as he slipped his other hand to grip the back of your neck firmly.

“You’re mine.” He announced without remorse. “You became mine the moment I took you home. Now you’re going to be mine in every other way.”

#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mafia!steve rogers #soft!dark Steve Rogers #mafia au #mob!steve rogers #my writing #nesting

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binkszamsstuff · 1 year

Text

Red

Very dark Steve! Mob Steve! Non con! Reader and Steve have a child. Angst!! Lots of grammar and spelling mistakes I’ll edit in the morning or never who knows🤷🏻‍♀️❤️

Red. the pain, the hurt, the passion, the love, everything was red. He was toxic, he was the obsessive. And you were his feen, his drug, his obsession , his love. But the days blurred, the lines no longer were standing, they had fallen. The fights, the late nights, the guessing and questions that went unanswered by him. It was a house on fire, it was red.

There was no time in the day to plan, with his anger, and yours. It was spontaneous, the fight had started because of steves affairs. The lying, the cheating, he ruined you, tore down all walls, made you just as obsessed with him as he was with you. Just to leave you in the dust, to cheat. To add gasoline to the fire that was you, or what was left of you anyhow.

Peggy was a glossy, classy woman with the perfect bubble of power and wittiness. She was everything you weren’t. You were messy, hazed with trouble, a woman gone mad by a man who drove her there. You were his frankenstein, you were old pieces of yourself glued back together again. The young, innocent, naive, funny, charming, and free girl was now chained to the scars he left.

You ran out of the house in the early morning, he came home late yet again. You had stayed up waiting for him, going to confront him in his act. Thats exactly what you did, but the end was not what you pictured. You hopped that he would hold you, say you were wrong, make love to you like in the beginning.

“Are you cheating on me?’ you asked quietly, you sat on the bed. You couldnt took at him.

“I dont want to have this conversation with you, it’ll only hurt you” steve spoke. That was all the answers you needed. You started to yell, scream, through insult after insult.

“I knew it! You’re scerwing peggy! Huh you’re fucking your secretary!” you yelled in his face crying. He rolled his eyes at you and shoved you to the side going to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“Im tried of this steve” you sobbed walking to the closet grabbing any bag in sight packing up everything.

Once steve heard you say that so defeated he knew that you were serious about leaving him. You and him had lots a fights because of his actions but everytime he kissed it better. He drew back in promising his love and that it will never happen again. But it always does. Steve now had his suite jacket off, his selves rolled up, strands of his hair in hs face,

“You’re not leaving me” he stated

“Watch me” you said back in anger, masking the sadness.

“y/n i own you, you’re mine! You cant leave me baby” he said getting angry.

“You cheated steve! Again. I-i cant do this i cant sit here and wait for you to love me again. We are not the people we were when we first started dating. I cant and wont be the drunk housewife waiting for her husband whose never gonna come back because his mistress.” you were out of breath from crying and talking so fast while packing.

Steve stepped closer “baby come on its me! Its us! We always get through stuff like this!” he tried to manipulate you with his soft words but this time it wouldn’t work. the naive girl you used died, not even a ghost left of her

“We wouldnt have to “get through this stuff” if you didnt cheat and fuck other women.” you held up air qoutes while talking.

“I love you” steve pulled you in near, kissing the top of your head. You sobbed in his chest, hurt, angry, betrayed. The three year relationship was now smoke, the fire was all burnt out. The engagement ring heavy on your finger, it was a line of whispered lies and i love yous.

Steve drew you to the bed, kissing his way up your neck. His hands sliding down your frame gripping your hips. His false hope whispered in your ear and apologies that didnt have any meaning stuck to you, like a cigarette burn. He took off your clothes and gently laid you on the bed. ‘When was the last time he was gentle with me?’ you thought to yourself as he kissed and licked at you lower lips.

“Say something baby, tell me you wont leave me, that you love me” he begged like he was the victim. You stayed silent, numb.

“prettybaby i love you. Say it back! I need you! I cant live with out you!” both of you now naked on the bed. he pushed himself into your entrance, all you could do was cry.

Steve begged and whined for you back but little did he know the car was running outside waiting to escape him and this burning house.

Steve fell asleep hugging you, his head resting on your tummy his arm wrapped around you. You ran your fingers through his hair, soaking up what was left of the man you used to know, he was burned alive, gone. You slowly pushed him off of you and got dressed, grabbing the bags on clothes and bathroom care you walked out. You looked around the house as you left, the nicknacs and photos of you and steve. The nursery that sat empty. Steve promised children but then came peggy. You kissed your engagement ring and then placed it on the entry table by steves keys.

Getting in the car and speeding off in to what was left of the mess steve made of you.

One year later-

A wail of a new born was calling out to you in the dead of the night. You never got frustrated being a single mother, reminding yourself when you caught yourself being negative that you could still be with steve. Penny was three months old and her blonde curly hair was sticking in every which way. It made you giggle.

“Hi! Mommys here its okay penny girl” you picked her up rocked her in your arms.

She might be steve daughter but you never let her know what pain she was created from, you would never let her end up like steve nor you.

“Mama loves you” you said as she closed her big eyes again just needing comfort from her mom to make her feel better. Steve didnt know that the night that the two of you had sex before you left was the cause of a beautiful little girl. He had tried to call, and text you put after smaing you phone and leaving to state of New York for Washington you knew he wouldnt find you.

You lived in a little white house with a garden in a small town tucked away from the crazy and hurt.

You sat in the rocking chair in pennys room rocking her, your tiredness was catching up to you. Just as your eyes started to close he spoke from the depths of the darkness that was the closet.

“Oh prettybaby you are such a good little mommy, just like i knew you would be” he walked closer.

You screamed. Getting up with penny in your arms backing away from him trying stumble to the door backwards,

“Get out. Steve get out! I-i cant-” you sobbed your hold on penny grew tighter.

“Baby its okay, i wont hurt you. y/n im so proud of you, look at the life you built for our little girl, now i am mad you didnt tell me you were pregnant. But baby she is gorgeous. Now i need you to decide either you come home or we can live out here. Ya know i kinda love it here. Good thinking babe this is great place to rise kids”

You sobbed harder.

“How did you find us” you asked crying, so scared.

“Oh baby dont be naive, i will always find you”

“You cant be in our life, your toxic and i wont rase my daughter in the life we used to have. She wont end up like us! You cant be here! You ruined me!’ you sobbed and hyperventilated. He slowly walked closer like approaching an injured animal

“Baby i know i know, i was wrong and mean and cruel to you. I was blind i thought you would always be there for me. I took you for granted. Shes gone y/n, i got rid of peggy, shes taking a long nap and i aint ever gonna hurt you like that again. I need you baby…..and i need to be in my daughters life. I cant live without you nor am i gonna be able to leave her all alone now too” he explained

“I wanna have a good life, nothing like the one we used to have. You scare me steve and you’ve hurt me” you said looking at little penny who had a frown on hef face, she could read the distress from her mother.

“y/n look at me!” steve grabbed your face in his hands and made you look at him. “I will make it up to you i promise. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you baby. I cant live without you” you shock your head no

“Its okay i get it y/n we need time, but im not going anywhere” steve spoke again.

“Come on lets put penny girl back in ger crib and go to bed” steve guided you to the crib and put penny down. She was right back to being cozy and sleepy. Steve pulled you in a hug while you sobbed into his chest, he was sliding his hand over your hair while shushing you.

“Come one lets go to sleep.” steve took your hand in his and leaded you back to your room. You laid down still crying, steve undressed himself down to his boxers and then joined you. He spooned you.

“I’ve missed you so much baby” was the last thing you heard before falling into slumber because you had cried yourself to sleep in his arms.

The house was burnt but in its ashes something new rose.

Authors note; i know some people will not understand why she didnt fight more, and the reason why was because she was in shock. It been and year and he shows up and shes like oh crap he found me and our now daughter. She is really scared of him and numb. Also steve is a mob boss by the way.

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sarahowritesostucky · 3 months

Text

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 3 The Knight

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 3195

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

Wait! I haven't read part 1, part 2!

“Nnn, pl-please…”

Her gasp is hardly audible this time, she’s so out of breath.

Panting from the way the second orgasm’s just ripped through her. And she’s crying still, but only just. Not like before. Because now the pleasure’s overtaken most of the anger, all of the fear, and even some of the humiliation. Bucky pulls his hands from her and delicately eases her panties back into place, smooths her little slip of a dress out for her. He looks up from his spot on the floor.

Her chest heaves with her breathing, the underside of her breasts—beautiful and natural under the silk—on full display for Bucky from this angle. And, Christ, her nipples are pebbled up, just begging for attention. Bucky sees Steve refixing his hold on her waist to support her because she’s gone so slack. She’s shaking against him, his body practically the only thing keeping her vertical at this point.

Inside his pants, Bucky is … uncomfortable. He slowly pushes up from where he’s been kneeling in front of her, coming back to stand at his full height and crowd in close again. He cages her between his body and Steve’s, hands landing on her waist right alongside Steve’s own. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, mockingly tender. “Don’t you want to say thank you for your orgasm?” He leans in so that the words are whispered against the side of her head. He’s staring at Steve as he says it, and when Lena’s mortified, overwhelmed little whimper comes in response, he doesn’t miss how Steve’s mouth twitches at the corner. Steve likes to play the white knight—and maybe he sort of is, compared to Bucky, but even still, he’s no sweetheart. And he’s enjoying the heck out of this. “Are you hard?” Bucky whispers, and he feels his sweet puppy’s body stiffen between them as she figures out who he’s talking to.

“You have to ask?” Steve answers, the rumble of his voice no doubt felt against Polina’s back. She makes another little outraged cry when Steve presses forward, driving his erection against her backside and pushing her more tightly up against Bucky.

Bucky, who helpfully slots his thigh back between her legs. She shivers as her sex is pressed up against him, going stock still to avoid any stimulation. Bucky coos down at her. He lets go of her waist and cups her face with one hand, tucking her hair behind her ear with the other. “Aw, princess,” he murmurs. “You sensitive now? Hm?”

She sniffles and nods her head. She’s been much more forthcoming ever since the suppository and the pill worked their way into her system. Behind the glossy sheen of her tears, her pupils are even wider and darker than Steve’s. It’s hardly taken any work at all to get her to come twice for him, she’s so keyed up.

Bucky tuts lovingly and brings the still buzzing vibrator up in front of her face. He twists the base, turning it off. Lena’s whole body slumps between them with relief, and Bucky chuckles. “Don’t get too excited. This might not be over for you.”

“W-what …” she swallows dryly. “What do you mean?”

“You still have a choice to make.” Bucky taps the little bullet vibrator against her lips. “Open.” She clamps her mouth shut stubbornly, so Bucky shrugs and rubs it over her instead, smearing her own release onto her lips. He leans in and slots his mouth over hers, licking the taste of her right back. “Mmm,” he hums. “Somebody’s been drinking their pineapple juice.”

She’s glowering at him when he pulls back. Bucky licks his lips like he’s savoring the last taste of a fatty meal. He can tell from the look on her face that he’s actually right: she has been drinking it. He feels a rush of fondness mixed with anger come at that—Fond, because it’s proof that she takes even his smallest teachings to heart.

“No, seriously. That’s why I have a glass each morning. It makes cum taste sweeter. … Pussy, too.”

Anger, because it’s not him she’s been drinking it for.

He forces the latter emotion away with a deep breath and a long exhale. He doesn’t have to be angry, because nobody but him is ever going to taste that pussy again. … Well, almost nobody but him. “Okay, little one,” he sighs. “Time to make a choice.” He reaches around her and tucks the vibe back into Steve’s pocket. Then he looks down and meets her gaze.

Her pretty blue eyes are wide but dazed, high from the drugs coursing through her system. Bucky smiles and cups her face with both hands. She’s so fucking beautiful, with her round little face and plush lips, her pretty blue eyes. They’re near arctic in color—closer to Steve’s cornflower blue than Bucky’s own muddled blue-grey. Sharp and clear, like ice underwater, and positively gorgeous when they’re crying.

Lena sniffles and Bucky’s heart twinges with affection. He leans in and kisses her cheeks, cleaning up her tears. “You need to listen to me now, Polina,” he murmurs, feeling her shudder underneath his touch. “Are you listening?”

She whines a little, not able to give up completely on her stubbornness, even now. Bucky loves her so goddamn much. She tries to squirm in their hold again, but as soon as her over sensitized clit bumps Bucky’s thigh, she’s calming back down. “What?” she asks quietly, sniffling and trying to put on a stiff upper lip. It’s cute.

“It’s up to you, how this goes,” Bucky tells her. He looks over to his right and catches the eye of one of the widows. It’s Belova. He jerks his head for her to go and get the supplies that are waiting in the wings. She disappears and reappears with a rolling tray table of tattoo supplies. “This,” he says to Lena, “is what’s happening.”

She squints in confusion at it for a second or two—the tray of gauze and ointment, inks and gloves and gun—before her eyes register the stencil and read it … and go wide in realization. She jerks in their hold, thrashing, tossing her head back against Steve’s chest in another vain attempt to hurt him. “No!” she huffs, the sound breaking into a pitiful whimper at the end, despite her bravery. “No, you can’t!”

Bucky waits her out, and sure enough, her little tantrum dies down. She cries, and he wipes those tears away, too. “Shh,” he soothes. “It’s not so bad.”

“It is!” she cries. “I hate you. I hate you!”

“You’re a smart girl, Lena. You can’t tell me you didn’t always know you’d wind up here.” He tilts her chin up when she refuses to look at him. Her tearful, angry eyes meet his, and he offers her a tender smile. He gives her another kiss, just a peck on the lips, this time. “I always get what I want, sora mica,” he murmurs, right against her lips.

Little sister.

She shudders underneath his touch but doesn’t shirk away, and Bucky preens because he knows the war that’s going on in her head right now, even if she’ll never admit to it. Revulsion, mixed with lust, and darkness, and something too close for comfort to love. It’s what he used to feel, back before he decided to give up on conventional morality altogether. Poor little Lena, though, he thinks sadly. She hasn’t gotten there yet. Oh well, she’s young, she’ll learn.

“Now,” he tells her, thumbing over the familial cleft in her chin. “You have two choices, sweet pea. You ready to listen to ‘em?”

She grits her teeth and purses her lips in an angry little moue, stubborn thing, though she capitulates when Bucky tightens his grip on her chin. “Yes,” she whispers tightly.

Bucky smiles. “Okay. Now, two things are happening, no matter what,” he says, raising a warning eyebrow at her. “You’re getting this tattooed on your body … and Gleb back there is going for a long swim in the Hudson.” He waits her out while she throws another hissy fit over that, tears leaking and eyes burning up at him. Bucky sighs and looks off to the side until it’s over. Then, when she’s slumped back against Steve again, all tuckered out, he continues, “If you hold still like a good girl, I won’t take your dress off in front of all these people, won’t force any more orgasms outta you down here where everyone can see. And Gleb’ll get wheeled off to his morphine and an easy death. No torture, just the widow’s bite—lickety-split, no fuss-no muss.”

He watches as her eyes flare and her face crumples with suppressed emotion. She composes herself faster this time, though, and he continues softly, drawing her lip down with his thumb. “But, if you make things difficult? I’ll have you squirting all over this floor before I knock you out and ink you while you’re unconscious. And Gleb will have …” he looks off to the side, as if trying to parse out his words, “... mmm, he’ll have a very stressful weekend.” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes, squeezing her chin sternly enough that it smooshes her cheeks the barest bit. “Are you gonna be good?”

She looks torn for a second or two, but then her eyes slip closed in defeat. In Bucky’s hand, she gives the tiniest of nods.

Bucky’s pleased, but he wants more from her. “Tell me,” he commands. “You’re gonna hold nice and still?”

She sniffles and nods again. “Yes,” she breathes. “I’ll hold s-still. I’ll … I’ll be good.”

Her meek response satisfies him. Feeling a sudden wash of tenderness towards her, he leans down and presses their foreheads together and whispers, “Thank you, little one. You know how I hate to see you struggle.”

She shivers against him but doesn’t throw out any bratty quip. She keeps her eyes down, avoidant. Sighing, Bucky pulls back and steps aside to have a word with Belova. He tells her his plans for Gleb, and she gives a sharp nod and heads off to handle it. Bucky knows then that he can put the idiot man from his mind for good. The widows will more than take care of him.

Bucky returns to Steve and Lena, ready to get to work. Really, he’d prefer Natasha to be the one doing this. Bucky’s no amateur with the gun, but he’s not as good as she is. Oh well. He has a steady hand, and the design is extremely simple. Just that one phrase, in cyrillic:

собственность дракона.

Translated roughly, it means: Property of the Dragon.

“Steve,” Bucky says. “Sit with her on the bench. It’ll help keep her calm.”

Along with the cart of tattoo supplies, a rolling stool, a bench, and a padded armrest have been brought over from the Red Room. Steve all but lifts Lena and brings her over there, straddling the bench first before pulling her to straddle it in front of him. Bucky goes about setting up, snapping on a pair of black vinyl gloves while Steve wraps his arms around Lena’s waist and murmurs quietly into her ear. Bucky smiles at the pair of them. Steve cares about Polina, too, has known her for almost a decade, and he’s always had a knack for calming her down. A good thing, since Bucky’s so naturally gifted at riling her up.

He sits on the stool and scoots over to them. Lena watches him warily. Steve’s used both his and Bucky’s discarded ties to bind her arm down at the wrist and at the bend of her elbow, in case she gets second thoughts about her promise of good behavior. Bucky’s mouth quirks at the ingenuity, and his dick twitches at the optics. He’ll have to take a picture, one he’s got the ink in. A shot of her arm; reddened and bleeding with his mark, and his and Steve’s neckties framing it. Fuck, he might jerk off to it sometime.

He spends a minute getting the ink prepared, and then he carefully cleans her inner forearm and applies the stencil. It’s small but long, stretching almost the full length between the ties. It’ll take a good hour or more in its entirety, but Bucky isn’t a sadist: His little one has been through a lot, and they’ve got a long night ahead of them once they take her upstairs. Bucky wants that time to be spent mostly in pleasure, not pain. They’ll just do the outline, for now.

Lena whimpers when the paper peels back from her skin, revealing the design left behind. “Bucky,” she pleads, though one look up at him and her begging stalls. Bucky gives her a grim, apologetic look, and she knows. She knows she’s not getting out of this. She whines lowly and turns her face into Steve’s shoulder.

“Shhh,” he soothes her, his big arms wrapped tightly around her waist, comforting and restraining all at once. “You’ll be fine, hon. This is how it has to be.”

Bucky settles himself and the gun, then turns it on. Soon, the buzzing fills the small space between the three of them. In the background there’s still the noise of the club: music, chatter, bodies moving around. But in their little corner in the back, it almost feels private now that they’re centered around what Bucky’s about to do to her. “Okay, malyshka,” he murmurs, waiting until he’s got her full attention. “Watch the gun. Don’t want you jerking around in surprise.”

He’s a little taken aback by the emotions that hit, as he brings the needle down and starts inking her for the first time. He’s marking her permanently, branding her as his in a way that will never wash off, and from which she can never escape. And despite her tears and the ties binding her arm down, she is sitting there for him, allowing it. That goes straight to Bucky’s cock as sure as anything else he’s ever done to her, and he spends the rest of the session focusing on each line and curve, putting the red ink underneath her skin and trying to work out what it is that’s twisting up in his gut so bad. There’s lust and possessiveness, that much he expected, but there’s also a certain amount of … melancholy? Maybe. Whatever it is, it’s there too. A feeling of resolution, of an era coming to an end. Arousing and yet oddly bittersweet.

Lena’s fist is already clenched when he starts, but he can see her body stiffening further as the burn of the needle really sets in. Her arm flexes and her fingers curl harder into her palm, the veins popping against the strained lock of her inner elbow. Steve keeps up a gentle litany of praise and reassurance in her ear, half of which Bucky hears and half of which he misses due to his own focus on the gun. He’d love to take Steve’s place, be the one to hold her and comfort her through this, but that’s just not possible because he simply doesn’t trust anyone else to do the work.

He’s even glad that Natasha refused to do it, at this point. Because this isn’t just any tattoo. It’s personal and intimate. A promise as good as any wedding ring. Probably better-than, in the fidelity it’ll enforce. Not on Lena’s part, poor thing, but on the part of any man who might dare to entertain the idea of an affair with her. One look at her arm, and that idea would go straight up in smoke. These red words are branding her for life, in more ways than one. It’s only right that Bucky be the one to do it.

“Almost done,” he murmurs when he’s finishing up at her wrist. It’s the most painful area, and he regrets saving it for last. But his girl does beautifully and keeps relatively still, sometimes hissing or whining in pain but never asking for a break, and never twitching enough to throw Bucky off course. He finishes the outline and sits back, setting the gun aide on the cart and reaching for the salve. He smiles at his little one, who by now has stopped crying. “Good job, sweet pea,” he praises softly.

Her defenses are down from having all of her focus on something other than him for so long. She only blushes a little when he uses the nickname, and says nothing snarky back. Bucky’s heart pulls with it. In Steve’s lap, she watches as Bucky uses a tongue depressor to apply the salve in long, smooth strokes over the raw areas. She blinks at her arm like she’s fully waking from a dream. “... That’s it?” she asks, sounding surprised, maybe even disappointed—though that’s probably just Bucky’s wishful thinking.

“For now,” he tells her, bringing out the non-stick pads and adhesive wrap. He’s giving her all the aftercare that he’s neglected on himself—already the back of his neck and shoulders feels tight and unpleasant, and he doesn’t want the same for her. Steve pulls the ties loose to release her arm, and Bucky explains, “You have delicate skin, sweetheart. We’ll let this heal, fill it in another time. Add some other design elements, if you want.” He catches her look of surprise and smiles, then looks away before her expression can shutter on him. He gently applies the pads along her skin, wrapping her up in an opera glove’s length worth of neon pink animal print bandaging, nice and tight. “There you go.”

“Cheetah print, really?”

“Just special for you, my little hellcat. Don’t worry, you can take it off tomorrow.” He rolls out on the stool and goes around to stand just in front of the bench. Briefly, he meets Steve’s eyes, and they have a short, non-verbal conversation, at the end of which Steve nods smally in agreement. “Okay,” Bucky says, reaching out to palm Lena’s face.

She automatically goes to shirk away from it, but Steve whispers something in her ear—Bucky doesn’t hear what—and it makes her settle. She bites her lip and peeks up at Bucky through her lashes and ruined makeup. “I was good,” she whispers, like she’s half-sure Bucky’s going to revoke his end of the deal.

He tries not to let it show on his face, how that hurts him. “Yeah, sweetheart. You were very good.” He bends over to kiss the top of her head, then turns and searches out Belova. She’s standing next to Maximoff now, over at the bar. Bucky goes over and holds out his hand. Pietro shakes first, Yelena second. “Thank you,” he tells them. “For bringing her back safely.”

“Again,” Yelena says with a smirk and a semi-suppressed eyeroll.

“You should get a leash,” Pietro jokes.

“Or a homing beacon.”

Bucky waves them off (though the homing beacon idea has occurred before), telling them to go back to their drinks and enjoy their evening. He doesn’t bother asking if the Gleb issue’s been dealt with—he knows from the look on Belova’s face that it has.

Part four

Masterlist

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chrisevansredbelt · 2 years

Text

Run, Rabbit Run

pairing: DARK!mob!steve rogers x wife!reader

warnings: DARK CONTENT. humiliation, kidnapping basically, suggestive themes, guns, roulette, mention of torture, inference to gang violence, police, hair pulling, degradation, slapping, some kissing. no smut.

summary: loosely based off of the song ‘run, rabbit run’.

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You ‘startle’ awake at the feel of his lips on your forehead. ‘Startle’ in quotations because you weren’t actually. You had actually been expecting the gesture ever since his alarm set off at 4:30am, this morning.

It should now be around 5:15am. It never takes Steve too long to get ready. And, going off his farewell kiss to your head, this only proves your estimation. He’ll be on his way to the office at around 5:20… then get there at 5:55 or 6. Just in time for his shorter day, before the weekend.

Friday’s were always Steve’s shorter days. Any other day of the week, he would be up at 4:30 as usual, leaving at 5:15, arriving at 6, finishing at 6. But on Friday’s, on Friday’s, Steve finished at 2.

Steve smiles warmly as you abruptly awaken. Though he loved nothing more than to watch you sleep so peacefully, he also loved when you woke up first thing in the morning- all confused and dumb, “Go back to sleep,” He assures you, petting your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear.

You mumble incoherently. Steve just huffs a small laugh before tugging the blanket back up your body.

Your hand shoots out then, grabbing his thick wrist before he can retreat it. He’s thoroughly confused, a bit of his fight instincts kicking in, but once he looks back down at you, his scowl softens, “Do you have to leave?” You ask softly, loosening your grip on his wrist a little bit and rubbing your thumb over the skin on the underside of his wrist.

Steve smiles, genuinely this time while he takes your hand on his wrist in his, “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to your hand. You whine at his words, a fake frown gracing your features, “Sam will be here in an hour, okay?” You sigh finally, before nodding, your hand limply slipping out of his grip and back under the warm covers of the blanket.

Steve can’t help himself. He holds your chin softly, taking you by actual surprise, and presses a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. Chaste was the word used to describe it, sure, but that’s exactly what Steve wanted it to look like. Innocent. Straying away from any hint or indication that he didn’t want to fuck you silly right then and there. But he would. Oh, he would. Why else would he finish work so early?

But, you push these thoughts to the back of your head as you embrace the kiss with a small hum, followed by a, “Love you.”

Steve stood from his leaned position with a proud smile on his face. As he made his way through the house, down to his car, he had a little pep in his step, even. Hell, he would probably say good morning to a few people in the office as he passed by them. Maybe even give way to a car.

Mr. Steven Grant Rogers, CEO of Roger’s and Sons Limited, being polite? Generous? Having manners? One could only dream.

Which is why, when Steve got into his car, the smile on his face disappeared and he pulled out his phone, beginning to make a few calls on his drive to the city.

Meanwhile, as soon as you heard his car start up and back out of the long driveway, you waited two minutes before jumping out of bed and getting ready. Sam wouldn’t be long, he was almost always early so you didn’t have a lot of time.

Bucky frowned curiously as he approached his best friend. Two coffees in hand as always, one for himself and on for Steve, Bucky was stunned to see the man so spacey so early in the morning when there was so much work to get done. He sat slumped in his big, leather desk chair- the one his father used to sit at. The chair alone emulated power and authority, and then when Steve was actually sitting on the throne, God help you if you fall out of line.

Usually, he would be nose deep in his computer, eyes almost turning square from looking at the screen so hard. So when Bucky saw how his boss so distant from his work, he clearly worried for his best friend. If he didn’t know any better, Bucky would’ve assumed he was on something. But those days are well over for Steve, and considering what day it is, Bucky has another idea as to what’s wrong.

With a cocky smile now plastered on his face, Bucky sets the cup of coffee down on Steve’s desk before taking a seat in one of the armchairs in front of his desk. Steve eyes the cup and almost begrudgingly reaches for it- perhaps figuring if he stimulates his brain with something else, he’ll take his mind off of what’s bothering him so.

“She has you too pussy whipped for your own good.” Bucky scoffs, man spreading his thick thighs as he takes a sip of his own cup.

Steve allows a small smile to spread across his face, for only Bucky could humour Steve at such a time as now. He takes a cautious sip of his coffee, before leaning back in his chair and shaking his head softly, “It’s not that today,” He smacks his lips, before clocking Bucky’s response.

The cocky smile flees Bucky’s face, and Bucky won’t deny how his heart drops suddenly as he reads Steve’s body language. Something’s wrong… more specifically, something’s wrong with you, “What is it?” He asks, though he has a feeling he already knows.

Steve looks out the window for a moment, the sun still rising. Such hope filled within a new day, curiosity as to what’s to come. Well, it’s too bad that curiosity killed the cat.

“She’s making the biggest mistake of her life.”

Ducking your head, you settle into the backseat of the taxi, heart still racing with each second that the driver wastes by stalling a little. You don’t even care about the fact that he’s stalling to scam some more money out of you- you just want to get as far away from this house as possible.

“Where to?” He asks, keeping his attention forward on his GPS as he sets it up, awaiting your response.

“The airport, please.” You say, out of breath. Yeah, packing your whole wardrobe in less than an hour will do that to you.

As soon as the driver makes his way, and you can no longer see the house through the thick trees of the street, you finally allow yourself to relax. Everything is going to plan. You can’t imagine how anything could go wrong from here.

So you settle back into your seat, ducking down a little so that if Sam were to pass by the car (which is totally possible), he wouldn’t see you.

“Where you headed?” The driver asks as he comes to a stop at a red light.

You perk up now, willing to engage in some light conversation to get your mind off things, “Just visiting family in Colorado.” You tell a little white lie.

He nods in fake interest before driving onward. Now that you’re much further from the house, and there’s no possibility that Sam- or really any of Steve’s associates would somehow find you, you sit more relaxed and glance out the window.

You’re gonna miss the city. Not that you didn’t already miss it. Only about once a month were you taken out to a nice restaurant in the city- but even then you were restricted to Steve’s side at all times. Maybe you can come back one day- maybe when you find out that Steve has been assassinated or something. That would be nice.

As you pass by the entrance to the highway, your senses are alerted and you look to the driver, “Hey, you missed the highway.” You politely inform him, hoping it was just a simple mistake. From your view of the back of his head- he seemed young, maybe he was still getting used to the roads. But from the way he ignores you, you don’t know if he hasn’t heard you or is choosing to ignore you. Your hands suddenly feel all clammy and your heart begins to race, “Excuse me?” You try again. Then you hear a collective click all around you and its then the you realise that he’s locked you in. You furrow your brows hard and your heart drops, “Sir-“

So distracted by the fact that this is straight out of some true crime/psychological horror film, you don’t even notice how he reaches into the compartment by his door, and pulls out a gun until he holds it up in front of you.

Your eyes widen, and your breath hitches. Your instinct is to run. But considering that’s impossible right now you maybe opt to break a window. Or even flagging down the attention of another car, for it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that a lone woman in the back of a taxi cab pleading for their attention isn’t exactly a good sign. But as you look out the window, you realise you’re no longer in a busy street. Or moving at all.

He’s come to a stop in a dodgy looking area- where you’re honestly probably safer in the car, with this armed psycho than out there.

The boy turns to you then, and its when you finally get a proper look at his face that you subconsciously tilt your head, recognising him from somewhere… Peter? “M-Mr. Rogers said I can hurt you if I need to.” No. No, no no no no no- “So why don’t you just sit back and let me do the driving.” No, no, no, no.

Your body complies before your mind can comprehend it all. Your back rests agains the seat of the car and he starts driving again. Your mouth is slightly gape- almost dry as an intense anxiety kicks in. How the hell did this happen? How did he know? You feel sick. You want to throw up, maybe that’ll distract the boy and make him pull over. No, he works for Steve- no amount of bodily fluid could make Steve’s employees disobey an order.

You swallow a breath, a bit hard with your desert dry mouth, but you’re too panicked to care. You chew on your bottom lip as you continue to eye the gun in his hand as he simultaneously steers the wheel. Looking back up at the road ahead, you ask lowly, “Where are you taking me?” You watch as he only eyes you through his rear-view mirror before looking back to the road. You should’ve known he wouldn’t tell you. You chew on your lip even harder now, drawing blood as the metallic taste invades your mouth. You bounce your leg uncontrollably and your breathing starts to lose rhythm. You know this boy could very well hurt you- you’re still debating if he would go as far to kill you, but you doubt it. So you try your luck in speaking once more, “Please,” You beg softly, tears falling that you didn’t even know were accumulating, “Please, I know he’s mean to you-“

In the blink of an eye, he shoots the gun. You squeal, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your face. You prepare to feel the warmth of the bullet in some part of your body- but after a few seconds of nothing but your ears ringing- you open your eyes and uncover your face. You look all over your body, then, as if you come up empty, you look to Peter, who continues driving like nothing just happened- though his grip on both the wheel and the gun is unyielding. You let out a breath of relief as your eyes travel upward to where a small glimpse of sunlight peeks through a freshly shot hole in the roof of the car.

It’s not long until Peter is pulling up to some rich neighbourhood. You swallow thickly at the large houses, separated by large trees and even larger land. Not even your family lived in a neighbourhood as nice as this. But you’re not surprised if this is where Steve has some secret home, where he cheats on you with strippers and prostitutes- not that you would care at all. Come to think of it, you do remember overhearing Bucky let slip about some other house… murder house? But surely that isn’t this house, right?

Some men guard a large gate that surrounds the house and you shudder when you see Sam in the small booth, talking with a few other men. They open up the gate for Peter to drive through and you do your best to avoid eye contact- but you can feel all of their stares. You also notice how they’re all armed, guns at the ready should you decide to run, you guess.

As Peter pulls up closer and closer to the house, your breath hitches when you see Steve standing by the doors. Oh, he’s mad. He does well to hide it, but you see right through the facade. Ew, you hate that you know him that well in order to be able to decipher that.

As the car comes to a stop, Bucky opens the door to the backseat before harshly grabbing you and all but yanking you out of the car.

Careless to you being able to find your footing, he holds your arms firmly as he ties them together behind your back with a piece of stretchy white cloth.

You eye the many men that stand around you now, all wielding guns, all watching your every move. Knowing Steve, they were probably each assigned a body part to focus on that would indicate any kind of inclination to run.

You suddenly feel cold. It’s summer, and the temperature is scalding, but you freeze under so many cold stares.

You wince as Bucky tightens the fabric around your wrists, before harshly grabbing your upper arm and dragging you towards Steve.

You barely have any time to think as he hands you off to Steve. Steve grips your face with one hand, thumb and index finger on either cheek as he squishes them together and tilts your head up to look at him.

He stares down at you hard, but his features slowly soften as he tsks. He presses an unwanted kiss to your lips and it takes everything in you not to kick him in the balls. Even though your ankles aren’t tied, you know that if you even take a step backwards, you’ll probably be shot.

As Steve pulls away from your lips, his hand travels to your hair, stroking it in place, carding his fingers through it before grabbing a fistful and pulling, “Ah-“ You gasp.

“Just when I thought you were finally starting to learn,” He starts, suddenly smiling down at you, “That, like your father, you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you.” You try not to let his mention of your father sway you, “But just like your stubborn bitch of a mother, you’re not very bright.” A few laughs sound and it really takes everything in you not to spit in his face. He knew mentioning how badly it stung whenever he mentioned your parents- as if killing them wasn’t enough. “I mean, come on,” He starts up again, “Did you really think you could ever get away from me?” You blink a stray tear and Steve smiles wider as it slides down your cheek, “Aw, don’t cry, Bunny. You’ll only encourage me.” He taunts as he wipes it away.

Looking to his men, he nods to the house and they all obey, filing into the house. Bucky stays behind you as Steve loosens his grip on your hair and resorts to your arm, pulling you up the stairs and into the grand house.

You can’t help but ogle at its size when you enter, the foyer itself probably larger than your bedroom back at his other house.

Steve leads you into what you assume is the living room, and sets you down onto the coffee table in front of the couch. Yes, the coffee table, not the couch. Because right now, you’re not a person to him- to be fair, you’re not sure if you ever were. You’re his property, an item in his assets.

Steve sits across from you on the couch, while the rest of his men surround you once more. Bucky appears beside you, another white strip of fabric in hand as he kneels to the ground in front of you and grabs hold of your ankles.

“You can cum if you need to, honey, it’s no secret you’re a rope bunny.” Steve quirks as he leans back against the couch, watching his best friend tie your ankles together.

Laughs elicit from all around you, but you try to block them out. Your head is too full off ideas on what he could do to you now- what they can do to you- what he could make them do to you.

As Bucky finishes tying your ankles together, Steve sighs heavily, looking over you. You can’t help but squirm under his gaze, no longer feeling as ballsy as you were outside now that you’re inside.

There truly is no way out now. Not with the locks on the doors and not with a gun assigned to each of your body parts.

“Leave us,” Steve finally speaks after a beat of silence.

Each man makes their way out of the living room and presumably, into the kitchen. Bucky leaves as well, leaving you completely alone with Steve. You hate to admit it, but it does feel a little less unnerving with just Steve. At least Steve hasn’t got 10 guns pointed at you.

Steve stands from the couch, beginning to circle you, clearly deep in thought.

“You act like I’m the bad guy here,” He starts and you furrow your brows- only because he stands behind you and can’t see, “Like I treat you so horribly on my own accord…” He adds. His hand comes to pet your hair again and you hope he didn’t notice your flinch. He rounds you, prodding your chin up with his cold fingers, “Like you’re not the one booking flights across the world to start a new life in a shitty, little townhouse.” You’re silent as you’re forced to stare up at him.

He goes to speak again, but as he opens his mouth, a loud, singular siren blares from outside. A police siren. Both of your heads whip towards the window and Steve abandons you completely when he sees the cop car pulling up to his driveway.

He furrows his brows tightly, watching as Sam approaches the cop car with defensive hands in attempt to turn them away.

As Steve turns back around at the sound of his men back at the doorway of the living room. He looks over their confused faces, half agreeing before realising what exactly they’re so confused about. Where the hell you are.

Steve parts his lips, glancing all around the living room, “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know-“ Bucky stutters, the rest of them agreeing.

“Did anyone see?” Steve asks, voice loudening a little. His men shake their scared heads and Steve runs a stressed hand through his hair before discarding his gun under the window seat, keeping it open for the rest of them to put their guns in as well, “Search the entire fucking house while I deal with them.” Steve orders, before frustratedly making his way to the front door.

“What if she’s outside?” Clint asks.

Steve spins in his tracks, “Then send a search party.” He says sarcastically before opening the door and greeting the police.

You listen intently at the sound of Steve’s men searching the house. Few go upstairs, few go out the back door and few linger around the bottom.

You also try and listen to what it is the police want, but once Steve had slammed the front door shut, you couldn’t hear a thing.

Your heart pounded in your chest, it was any wonder it wasn’t audible from the outside of the closet you were hiding in. You also tried silencing your laboured breaths- the adrenaline of escaping Steve in the moment and slipping out of the confines around your ankles exhausting you.

Steve can’t bring himself to care that much about the police on his driveway. They were called from one of the nosy neighbours, complaining about suspicious activity and guns. Big whoop. Steve would simply explain how he knew Tony Stark and they would be on their way.

For, what Steve cared about the most right now- more than anything, was you. And where the fuck you were.

It’s not long before you start to realise how much of a bad idea hiding was. As you hear someone on the ground floor opening and closing every door they come across in order to find you, you know it’s over for you.

Sure, you’re hiding behind a coat and a suitcase, but you’ll definitely be seen once the door opens.

As approaching footsteps sound closer and closer to the door, your heart rises to your throat. You stop breathing so as to not make anymore noise but it’s useless as the door is pulled open.

The both of you are taken aback. You, because of who’s found you and Peter, because he actually found you.

You plead with your eyes, shaking your head and begging him to spare you. To shut the door and act like he saw nothing.

It’s a long shot, you know it, but it’s worth a try. As he purses his lips, he sighs- most likely feeling guilty for what pain and suffering he’s about to put you through as he probably calls out to Bucky that’s he’s found you.

As you look down, preparing for your fate, the closet gets darker and darker. You look back up, seeing only a slither of Peters sympathetic face before the closet door is being shut.

So the cops were sent on their way after a not-so subtle threat that Steve knew Tony Stark and Nick Fury. He waited until they were out of sight, exiting the large gates of the home before heading back inside.

“We can’t find her anywhere in the house.” Bucky informs Steve as soon as he re-enters.

Steve sighs, nostrils flaring and blood boiling, “Start looking outside then.” He orders simply before opening up his phone.

After a few minutes on his phone, sending out a few orders to his men on their groupchat, he then makes his way to the lonesome living room.

He sighs heavily as he slowly paces around the place. He opens up the window seat to retrieve his gun now that the police are gone and is glad to see that the others have as well.

Spinning it around his index finger, he whistled a tune. ‘Run, Rabbit Run’. He feels it’s very fitting.

He takes slow, deliberate steps towards the closet, smile growing ever so softly as he glided the gun over the door before walking past it and back towards the couch.

He takes a comfortable seat, allowing you a moment to think you’re off the hook. Heck, maybe he’ll keep you in there all day. You’ll have to crack eventually- need food, water, to go to the toilet. But what real fun is that?

So, Steve sighs once more, rolling his jaw before speaking, “I know you’re in there.” He speaks softly. From the inside of the closet, you blink dumbly into the darkness, wondering if you heard him correctly, “What you made Peter do is gonna cost the kid his life, you know that?” He threatens and you softly gasp, “Unless you come out… say you’re sorry. We can forget this ever happened.” He tries to reason, “And I won’t punish you.”

You find yourself chewing on your bottom lip again. It’s not a hard decision you have to make. You know Steve would never kill you, to some extent, you know what power you hold over him.

But you know damn well he won’t hesitate to kill Peter for protecting you like that. You don’t know how Steve found out- but it would be safe to assume he had some kind of camera system hooked up to his phone.

And you’re not letting that poor kid die because of a stupid mistake you made.

So, you step over the suitcase you hid behind and softly push open the closet door with your knee, seeing that your hands were still tied. You squint at the light that greets you, before fixing your gaze on your husband.

You swallow your heart that had previously crept up in your throat, before softly pleading, “Don’t hurt him.”

He finally turns to look at you, inspecting you almost and this time, you can’t read his face, “If I didn’t know any better,” He starts off, moving off the couch to stand in front of you. That way, he establishes his power- the way he towers over you, “I would think you were in love with the boy.” You internally roll your eyes at his jealousy peaking through, and when you don’t respond, denying the allegations, Steve tilts his head, “Oh?”

“No, Steve-“ You quickly say, your voice hoarse since it’s the first time you’re speaking since Peter first brought you here, “He’s just so young.” You reason, “I-I love you-“

Steve’s hand wraps around your neck so fast you don’t even see his hand move, “You have a very funny way of showing it, honey.” You stare at him with wide eyes, fear written all over your face as he presses harshly against your neck- constricting your breathing, “I know I said I wouldn’t punish you- that we could forget this all happened,” He looks over your body, your tits in particular, licking his lips, “But I’m not exactly in a forgiving mood right now.”

You audibly whimper, “No, please-“ Your voice strains against his hand.

“And you didn’t even apologise.”

“I’m sorry!” You plead, grip loosening slightly as he trails his gun over your heart and tits- circling your nipple through your clothes as well, “Please, Steve, I was stupid to try to leave you-“ He shoved the gun inside your mouth and you feel immediate tears well up in your eyes, the absolute fear of it all kicking in tenfold.

Steve cocks the gun and you gasp with it still inside your mouth. You can only watch as his finger presses down on the trigger and you squeeze your eyes shut.

The gun only clicks in your mouth however, the bullet never eliciting and your head still intact.

You open your eyes, staring wildly at a maniacal Steve. He has never taken it that far before and now you’re left questioning everything you once thought you knew about this man- that he would never actually kill you…

“Just a precaution,” He says, moving the gun around inside your mouth before pulling it out and returning it to the waistband of his pants, “It’s going to take a lot for me to trust you again.”

His words go in one ear and out the other, your body and mind practically in shock from his recent action that he seemingly just sweeper under the rug as if it didn’t happen.

He pulls out his phone from his back pocket with his free hand, resting it between his ear and his shoulder as he kneels to the floor and picks up your previously discarded fabric that was tied to your ankles.

He ties it back around where Bucky had previously failed to do so, so much tighter this time so as to not take any chances with you. Not that you have the gall to run or hide or even look at Steve wrong ever again.

No, Steve has finally done it. Steve has officially conditioned you to do exactly as he says.

“Call off the searches. Come back to the house. Stay on the ground floor.” He says into his phone, before hanging up. On his way back up, standing upright, he practically throws you over his shoulder, smacking your ass in the process as he stalks towards the grand staircase, “Come on, Bunny,” He sighs, “You’ve got lots to re-learn.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆ 🐇

BYEEEEEE

#steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x y/n #captain america

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awhhhflush · 1 year

Text

The Beginning

Mob!Bucky x Reader, Steve Rogers

I'd recommend listening to this for this chapter!

Summary: When you're forced to move to a new town due to your father's "business trouble," you're likely to be left to fend for yourself, alone, and bored. You should probably try to make some friends.

Your head rests against the window pane of your father's leather adorned S-Class Mercedes Benz, thumping every now and again as he practically raced into the estate. You would have thought he'd take a more secluded approach, perhaps swaying away from using his shiniest car at 75 mph and buying the largest house on the street full in cash. You weren't complaining though. As the car slowed to a halt before the house, your eyes narrowed. This house was smaller than the previous ones - your father must be in serious "business trouble."

Your door opened with a click as you were met with the offer of Matthew's assistance. He was one of your father's favoured men when it came to your protection, but you both know he' hardly get through a staring contest, let alone a fight for your life. You stood, stretching after the 4 hour car drive from Leesville. Exhaustion from being cooped up in the back of the car for so long washed over you like a wave as Matthew lifted your luggage from the boot - one of the many benefits of having burly men working for your father was that you never had to put much effort into doing things for yourself, another being that they could arrange for the house to be fully furnished and cleaned before your arrival.

Your heels clicked against the polished white steps as you reached the front porch, stopping behind your father one of his men unlocked the door for you all. Your parents remained silent as the door was pushed open to reveal the interior of the house. Throughout the entirety of the car journey, your parents hardly spoke a word to one another too, let alone to you. Their love had a soft and strange unspoken nature, one in which many usually mistook for coldness, but your father had always been distant with you anyway. He had wanted a son, an heir to his throne, and as a woman, you could never be such a thing. By the time your mother had healed from your birth, she had grown too old to bear another child safely. Your father didn't detest you, but you knew you'd never live up to what he wanted, and the effect of that knowledge was just as harsh as the former.

As you peered over your parents' shoulders, your eyes widened. Despite the decrease in size compared to your last home, the house was actually gorgeous. The walls were painted a dusted cream, almost sun kissed in a way. The floors were light wood panelling, and the stair case twisted and curved to reach the second floor, which had walls painted a shade ever so slightly darker and warmer in tone than the walls down stairs. The pure and bright interior design was almost curious, considering your father's usual dark and sharp decoration requests. Catching a glimpse of your mother's faint smile told you that this time, the decorating was not per your father's desires, but hers instead. You father's eyes warmed in a way that did so only for his wife as he looked at her. See: unspoken. She needed not to thank him, because the quirk in her lip said enough. You smiled fondly as your eyes looked between your parents, a stab of jealousy rushing through your chest as you wondered where love like that could be found.

When your parents entered the house, you followed behind them eagerly, excited to see what your room would be like. Admittedly, it was a bit embarrassing for a girl of your age and wealth to be living with her parents still, but given your father's work situation, it would be too dangerous for you to live alone, unprotected. Turning to close the door behind you, you momentarily locked eyes with one of the most attractive men you had ever seen. Although he was relatively far away, his features were perfectly defined. His jaw was brushed with the faintest of stubble, his jawline sharp enough to cut open your finger if you dared to touch it. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue, stopping you in your tracks as your grip on the door handle faltered. As your mother called your name, you were snapped back to reality, turning once more to look at the man, leaning against his door frame, hands in his pockets and knitted sweater clinging to his muscles, before closing the door and making your way upstairs.

You hadn't noticed, in your flustered panic, the smirk that fell upon his lips and the darkness that settled in his eyes as he watched you retreat into the house.

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

Note

Soft mafia Steve gets dragged to a craft store because our dear reader wants to get his artist side out again after he worked too much lately. Maybe crafting some cute Christmas decorations could help

“You’re exhausting yourself.” He hears you from the bedroom and sees you in the reflection of the mirror sitting cross legged on the bed, your hands tucked under your chin. “You need a vacation.”

“A vacation with my little ballerina? Somewhere hot and sunny, my sweet wife naked on a beach-“ Steve’s lips twitched and a smirk was on the cusp as he caught the moment you had faltered.

“That’s not what I meant…” you diverted your attention and then he saw you moving to get off the bed, striding toward the closet. “You should take a vacation by yourself.”

“Where are you going?” Steve left the bathroom, dressed in a soft cotton shirt that hugged his broad chest and shoulders, a pair of dark wash jeans that’s hugged his legs and thighs, and a sleek dark leather jacket that made him look like a runway model.

“I’m going to an art supply place,” you drew yourself away from the closet after grabbing a cardigan, “wanna come with me?”

“A date, little ballerina?” Steve hummed, coming to stand behind you with his hands resting on your hips. “What do you need today?”

“A few things.” You hummed and leaned back against his chest. “You could always stay here-“

“We’ll get coffee,” Steve brushed his lips against your neck, softly caressing your skin, “and then get lunch.”

“Aren’t you too busy?”

“Not for my wife.” Steve crooned and kissed you once more before he pulled away. “Let’s get out of here.”

** ** **

“Have you thought about sketching and painting again?” Your question breaks the silence as you wander from one aisle to the next, gathering a few things and dropping them into the cart you were pushing.

Steve’s hand has been steadily resting on your back as he walked with you, his fingers curling against the soft cardigan you wore, his hip occasionally bumping against your own. He was a steady and gorgeous, albeit intimidating, figure as he stalked along beside you and looked at the Christmas themed selection.

“You overwork yourself, you need to relax and take a load off.” You reached for another item and dropped it into the cart, gathering a mass of separate pieces to create Christmas decorations for your home.

“Would you like me to return to artwork?” Steve wondered, turning you to face him head-on. “To help myself relax, I would need a model.”

“A model?” Your hand paused against his chest, your eyes wandering from his chest to his ocean blue-green eyes.

“How about…” Steve had gathered a string of pearl garland and ran his thumb over the delicate beads. “…we get these and I’ll wrap them around your perfect little body, and then I’ll sketch.”

“Just this?” Your voice shook, your heart racing. “And me-“

“-naked, sweetheart. I’m gonna sketch you naked all dolled up for me for Christmas.”

#soft!dark!mob!steve rogers x reader #soft!dark!mob!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve x reader #mob!steve rogers #shopping Saturday #shopping Saturdays

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wiypt-writes · 2 years

Text

Brothers In Arms

Part 7: Music’s Too Loud Without You

Summary: Ransom learns of your pregnancy, but when he returns home, there’s another surprise waiting for him…

Warnings: Bad language words. Smut. Violence…angry Ran and angry Steve.

Pairing: MOB (darkish…sorta) Ransom Drysdale x Reader /MOB DARK Steve Rogers x Reader

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: This is a VERY Ransom/Steve heavy chapter...the reader doesn’t feature much, and won’t in Part 8 either. After this we’ve only 2 plus an epilogue to go...eeeeek! Huge thanks to my beta and constant source of love and light @spectre-posts

W/C: 3.6k

Brothers In Arms Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 6

Silence stretched between the two of you as Ransom looked down at the test which now lay in his hands. You watched as his expression never changed. His eyes remained focused, nostrils flared a little as he took a deep breath, the nerve was still twitching in his jaw. So, it was a surprise to you, when the inevitable question came in such a quiet and meek manner.

“Is it mine?”

You licked your lips, swallowing as you blinked back tears. “I don’t know. And I…we never will.”

“What do you mean?”

“A paternity test would be useless.” You spoke, a little sadly. “You, and…him…I mean, identical twins…you share DNA.”

Ransom opened his mouth as if to speak, but he shut it again as he gently handed you the test back. “No, I guess you’re right.” He spoke softly, before he then shook his head, almost as if he was trying to dislodge whatever thought or image he had in his head. “But…it’s gotta be mine, right? I mean…we had…a lot of…” he waved his hand, “and you, you and him…it was once, so…odds on…”

He trailed off as you looked at him, a pang in your chest. There was no malice in his tone, no accusation, no bitterness. In fact, it was almost as if he was pleading. Pleading with you to tell him what he needed, or wanted to hear.

“Ransom…” you wiped your eyes, “I don’t…I mean, okay, the mathematical probability would likely lean towards you but…it only takes once and I can’t…” you looked at him, fresh tears stinging your eyes and nose, “I can’t say for sure.”

You saw the film of mist cover his eyes and you looked away, giving him a moment to compose himself. He cleared his throat, but when he spoke, his voice was thick. “Are you gonna keep it?”

“I don’t know. I need time to think about it.” You blinked back more tears as Ransom glanced up at the ceiling, almost as if he was hoping to find the solution to all of this up there on the clinically white suspended tiles.

“Whatever you want…then…I’ll help.” Ransom’s gaze returned to you, “If you keep it, I’ll support you. I’ll do whatever, be as involved as a father or as not involved as you want, but you’ll want for nothing. Either of you. Whatever you decide…”

At that point the door to the bathroom opened and you turned to the door, Ransom automatically moving so that he was stood in between it and you.

“Boss…” Natasha spoke, her voice gentle, “we don’t have a lot of time.”

“No…” Ransom looked down at his feet, “no we don’t.”

You weren’t sure if he was talking about the fact that any moment now the temporarily incapacitated security detail would be waking up, or the fact that you would soon have to come to terms with a decision about the baby currently residing in your belly. You raised your head to look at him, and he took a deep breath before he turned to Natasha. When he spoke, his voice was back to normal, business as usual.

“Y/N has agreed to my proposal. You’re to stay with her, keep her safe. There’ll be no contact from or to me unless she explicitly permits it.” Natasha nodded. Ransom took another deep breath, before he looked back at you. “if you need me…you have my number.” And with that he gave a jerk of his head, and swept from the room.

You nodded, before you turned away, and then you could hold it no longer. Your shoulders began to shake as you started to cry.

“Oh…hey…Y/N…” Nat’s voice was a little shocked, awkward almost as you felt her arm gently touch her elbow. “Hey, what is it?”

“Everything…”You managed to croak out between your shaking sobs, “I ruined everything…I should have never gone to that damned party in the first place, I should never have lied…and now…now…my brother is out there fighting for his life and I’m…well, I don’t know what I’m doing with mine.”

“Well, how about we focus on right here, right now?” Nat spoke softly, “let’s get you calmed down, freshened up and then we’ll head back to your brother’s room. See how he is.”

You nodded. “Yeah…”

“I’ll be outside, most likely arguing with Harlan’s goons.” She gave you a little smile and you watched her go.

You turned to look at yourself in the mirror, and as you stared at your pale and drawn face, your hands both gently came to a rest on your stomach. You stood there, trying to get your head around all of this. Did you want this baby? More so, could you have the baby knowing that there was a chance it could be Steve’s. What if he found out? He’d been so clear about the fact he wanted you, you were sure that there was no point he’d simply leave you alone if he knew you were pregnant. Maybe you could run away…Ransom had said he’d help you in any way possible, so maybe he would give you enough cash to get you out of the country, and a new life somewhere else…

Loud voices drew you from your contemplation and you had to give a little snort as you realised Natasha had been right, she was arguing with your newly acquired bodyguards. Right now, this wasn’t about you. It was about Ari. So, you took a deep breath, summonsed all the composure and self-assurance you could muster, and yanked the door open.

*****

Ransom blazed through his mansion, barking orders and dismissing everyone he came across, including Langley. He wasn’t in the mood for his best friend or dealing with business today, he could think about nothing other than you, and the unborn baby in your belly. A million and one feelings were brewing inside him, and he couldn’t really identify any specific one with the exception of fear. Fear that, if Steve found out, it would put you in even more danger than you were. No, it was imperative that his asshole brother never found out about this.

He poured himself a scotch and drained it in one, wincing a the burn in his throat. He refilled his glass and sank into the chair behind his desk, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. If only he knew what it was that Levinson had uncovered. If he could prove to his shit head brother that it wasn’t him who had ordered that fateful hit which had gone wrong then maybe Ransom could buy himself enough time whilst he figured out how to kill the fucker. Because, that was inevitable; Steve Rogers would die. His fate had been sealed the minute he’d fucked you.

It didn’t escape Ransom, however, that even if he managed to kill his brother, Steve had achieved what he had wanted. He’d taken you away. You, the person who Ransom loved most. The person who he would have single handedly faced the devil himself for. Killing Steve wouldn’t repair the broken fragments of your relationship, it wouldn’t wash away what Ransom had done to you, but…

“It’ll make me feel better.” He necked his drink again, standing to refill the glass, his hands clutching at the neck of the crystal decanter. He knew he was lying to himself, nothing was going to make him feel better. Nothing other than having you back where you belonged. Back in his arms, in his bed. He wanted to watch you do that adorable little twitch of the face as you woke up. He wanted to argue with you over getting a dog. He wanted to play fight with you over what movie you put on. He wanted to see you in his clothes, fluffy socks on your feet, hair tossed up in a messy bun as you sat on the sofa surrounded by junk. He wanted to see your belly as it grew with his baby, see the other changes that brought to your body. He wanted to hold you, yelling as you squeezed his fingers so hard they felt like they were going to break as you gave birth…

Tears welled in his eyes and with a loud yell of anger, frustration, and downright devastation, he launched the crystal decanter at the wall where it shattered into a million pieces.

As much as he solely wanted to blame Steve for this mess, Harlan and Levinson were right. This was his doing as much as it was his brothers. And he had no fucking idea how to fix any of it.

“And now I’ve got not fucking scotch!” He yelled. He took a step to the right with the intention of yanking open the door and shouting loud enough until someone brought him some more, but he stopped dead as something caught his eye. He glanced back down at his desk and spotted, for the first time, an A4 sized envelope. It had clearly arrived in the post, and he assumed it had been that morning given the date stamps. He picked it up, it was flat but card backed, the type of envelope that normally contained things that the sender didn’t want bending.

Temporarily, all thoughts of you and alcohol flew from his mind. He reached for the letter opener, slit the envelope from left to right along the top, and then turned it upside down.

Two photos fell out, one landed picture down. With a frown, Ransom tossed the envelope down on the desk and glanced down at the photo which was the right way up. His brow furrowed as he saw Rumlow sat at a table at the country club with a large bulky envelope in one hand, and a bound wad of notes in the other.

Ransom’s mouth dropped open as he realised what this was. It was a payment, and more specifically, he knew that the only reason anyone would send this to him was that it was the payment which had sealed Peggy Rogers’ fate. This was the deal that was made when Rumlow was supposed to shoot Steve. Which meant that, the other photo which still lay with its blank, white back facing upwards, was about to show him who had arranged it.

He swallowed, suddenly feeling hot and clammy with anticipation. The blood was thumping around his head and ears as he reached out, and turned it over. His eyes widened as he saw, for the first time, the person who had been responsible for the hit, the reason Steve hated Ransom so much, the reason he’d gone after you to seek revenge on the wrong person.

And he knew the man. He knew the man extremely well.

******

“Boss?”

Steve looked up to see Bucky in the doorway. “What is it, Buck?”

“Your brother is here.”

Steve’s brow furrowed, before he gave a little huff. “Well, show him in.”

A few minutes later, Ransom bustled into the room, the back of his long, tan coat flapping a little.

“Ransom, what a pleasant surprise.” Steve drawled. Ransom merely glared back at him. “Gun on the table,” Steve tapped the surface of this desk, “if you’d be so kind.”

With the filthiest look Ransom could muster, he reached into the waistband of his trousers and pulled out his weapon. He tossed it onto the desk.

“You packing anything else, no knives in your socks?” Steve arched a brow and Ransom scoffed.

“Knives ain’t my style.”

“Ah yes, never been one for getting your hands dirty.” Barnes chuckled from behind him and Ransom twisted his neck a little to look over his shoulder. “Tell me, how is Levinson?”

With a snarl, Ransom spun round. “You best hope he pulls through, because if he doesn’t…”

“You’ll do what?” Bucky stood still, not so much as flinching.

“Okay, boys, that’s enough.” Steve spoke, humour lacing his tone. “I’m sure we can all agree that what had to happen to Ari is…regrettable.”

“Regrettable? You did it, you stupid cunt. And for no reason.” Ransom tossed the package he was holding on the desk.

“What’s this?”

“An envelope.” Ransom deadpanned.

“Hilarious.” Steve rolled his eyes. “What’s in it?”

“Look and see. Or are you blind as well as fucking dumb?”

With his eyes still on Ransom’s, Steve reached for the envelope and pulled out the photos inside. Ransom watched and saw his brother’s eyes narrow, before they widened.

“Is this…”

“Yeah.” Ransom nodded

“What is it, Steve?” Buck asked as he walked round the side of the desk

“That is a picture. Well, two to be exact.” Ransom answered for Steve as Bucky took them. “Showing, what I believe, to be the meeting which set up the hit that was taken out on Steeby. The hit that killed Peggy.”

At the last sentence, Ransom bowed his head a little. Despite everything Steve was, he’d loved Peggy. Worshipped the ground she walked on and would do anything to keep her safe.

As he did and would with you. And your...

At the thought of you, and the baby in your belly, Ransom felt a stir of anger and his eyes returned to his brother who was now, he was both pleased and amused to see, looking utterly dumb struck.

“I told you it wasn’t me that organised it.“ Ransom spat, “you came after the wrong guy…and you…”

Steve looked at Ransom, his eyes locked onto his as he shook his head. “What do you want, an apology?”

Ransom snorted, “even now you can’t admit-“

“This doesn’t prove anything…” Steve waved the photo.

“You’re right, it doesn’t. And the one person that could confirm this is currently lying in a hospital bed because your guard dog couldn’t wait to get his knives out.”

“Levinson was tailing-“

“Because of what you did to Y/N!” Ransom snarled.

There was a moments silence, before Bucky cleared his throat. “Boss…I think…I think you should give these some serious consideration. I mean, why else would he-“ he jabbed his finger at the photo, “be meeting with Rumlow, huh? Who else did he want to have shot?”

“And why would anyone send it to me?” Ransom added.

“But why?” Steve frowned, “it makes no sense.

Ransom popped a shoulder. “He’s always been a jealous prick. Maybe he snapped, wanted to clear the path for himself, I don’t know. But we won’t either, not for sure, until we confront him.”

“If it is true…” Steve looked at Ransom, “I will kill him.”

Ransom popped a shoulder, “I ain’t gonna stop you.”

Steve took a deep breath, “Ransom…”

Ransom stood, waiting, his arms folded. But nothing came. Eventually he scoffed and reached for his gun.

“Save it, let’s go confront the son of a bitch. The sooner this is all over…” he trailed off. He was about to say the sooner this mess was dealt with, the sooner he could get back to putting things right with you. But, well, that wasn’t something he was sure would happen.

He tucked the gun into his waistband and then stood tall, brushing his hand through his hair. “Now, are you organising the flight to Boston, or shall I?”

**********

“Something smells good.”

“Pumpkin and Gingerbread cookies.” You grinned, turning to face him. “Shaped like…”

“Spooky stuff…” Ransom chuckled as he saw the array of different shaped cookies.

“Thought I’d do a test batch for Halloween.“

“You do know I booked catering for the party, right?” His arms circled you from behind.

“Yeah but I wanted to do something…”

He kissed your cheek, “so come on, let me test one.”

You grinned, and held one up over your shoulder for him to take a bite. He chewed, made an appreciative noise and swallowed.

“They’re good. Real good. Taste almost as good as you.”

You laughed and slapped his arm lightly. “Are hungry? I wasn’t sure if you would have eaten…”

“Starving…” he nipped at the skin behind your ear.

“I made lasagna,” you closed your eyes as his lips moved down your neck.

“Hmmm…rather have my dessert first,” his lips caressed your jaw.

“You can’t…”

“Says who?”

“That ain’t the way it’s done.” You mumbled and then giggled as he spun you to face him.

“I can do what the fuck I want,” he grinned as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. “And right now, I wanna do you.”

He lifted you easily onto the kitchen counter, his hands gripping the bottom of your sweater. You bit your lip as he pulled it over your head, groaning as he realised you had no bra on underneath.

His lips pressed to the hollow of your throat, before he kissed the swell of your breast. Then, his lips pulled in your nipple, teeth gently grazing the sensitive nub. You groaned, arching into him a little, your hands in his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

It wasn’t long until your leggings had been discarded, along with your panties and he was stuffed inside of you, your legs round his waist, ass perched on the edge of the counter. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he thrust into you, over and over again.

“Fahk, princess…” his lips pressed to yours, swallowing your groan as he could feel you squeezing him. “You gonna cum, baby?”

“Yeah…yeah…oh…oh, god…Ran…”

With a moan, you tipped your head back, and Ransom grunted as he felt your heat squeezing him, pulling him in further…god, you were just exquisite. He loved you, with everything he had…

Ransom shifted in his seat, his eyes closed. It seemed a bittersweet curse that his dreams were always filled with memories of you. Maybe that was his penance for the way he’d treated you…

He popped an eye open and saw his brother sat on the other side of the jet, a scotch on his hand. He was contemplating something. In a way that the twins has always been able to do, Steve sensed Ransom’s eyes on him and turned to face him. Ransom looked away.

“So, humour me, Ranny…”

Ransom growled and looked at him, “what?”

“I’m curious. I mean, you know now, that Y/N wasn’t completely aware it was me at Stark’s party but…did you know she arranged to meet me?”

“Yes.” His reply was curt.

“She backed out.”

“I know.”

“I mean, if she’d gone through with it…I’d have sent you the photos anyway but…”

Ransom growled, “shut up.”

“But…back to my point. You know all of this…and yet you’ve not got her back yet…why?”

“None of your dammed business.”

“Ahhh, it’s not your choice, I see. She pissed you didn’t believe her?”

Ransom clenched his jaw, “keep talking…go on.”

Steve simply smirked and sat back, “I mean, your relationship can’t have been that strong if you didn’t believe her in the first place. How many other-“

He was cut off as Ransom shot out of his chair and gripped him round the neck, closing his fingers tightly.

“You don’t mention her. You got that? She’s nothing to do with you.”

Steve nodded as Ransom let go, sitting back down.

“You’re going soft.” He chuckled.

Ransom sighed, “shut up, Steve. You’re boring me now.”

“I mean, you have been threatening to kill me for weeks and here is your perfect opportunity. No one here but me and you.”

“Well, call me old fashioned but I think you deserve revenge on the man who really ruined your life.”

“And then…then what?”

Ransom shrugged.

“He ruined yours too, remember?” Steve sighed, “if he hadn’t organised that hit…then…I wouldn’t have…”

Ransom turned his head towards his brother and opened one eye. “Is that an apology?”

Steve simply smirked, “if you wanna call it that.”

“You never were any good at them.” Ransom closed his eyes again and let out a deep breath. “Even as a kid sorry never formed part of your vocabulary.”

“Wasn’t part of yours either.”

“Touche, Steeby, touché.”

The rest of the flight was spent in silence, and before long they were pulling up outside their Grandfathers mansion. The driver, who Harlan had sent for them both, had barely pulled to a stop before Steve was out of the car.

“Steve, hey…” Ransom hurried to catch him, gripping his shoulder, “just…wait…”

“I’ve waited long enough.”

Ransom looked at his brother before he sighed, “fine, have it your way.”

Steve stormed through the mansion, Ransom simply swaggering behind as they made their way to Harlan’s office. Not bothering to knock, Steve fling the door open and their grandfather didn’t flinch as he looked up.

“Ahh. I though I had heard you had arrived. I also heard from my security at the hospital, I told you, Ransom, no-”

He stopped mid sentence as Ransom simply tossed the envelope down on the desk and Harlan looked at it.

“What’s this?”

“Photos. Photos of Rumlow with the…” Steve took a deep breath, “the person who really organised the hit.”

“So this is what Levinson found out?” Harlan reached for it. Ransom nodded.

“You ain’t gonna like it.” He warned.

Harlan opened the envelope and pulled out the photos, and he groaned. “Oh you stupid….”

“Where is he?” Steve demanded.

“He’ll be at the publishers.”

“Fine…” Steve turned to go.

“Wait!”

“I can’t and won’t do that.” Steve shook his head. “I’m going to kill him, he’s been in the business long enough to know how this goes…”

“And so have I.” Harlan sighed, sadness in his tone. “I can’t and I won’t stop you...not after...” he sighed and shook his head. “But let me call him, get him to meet me at the warehouse. It’s…it’ll be empty today, and I don’t want this anywhere near our legitimate front. Plus…I’d like an explanation. He is…he is….”

Harlan seemed unable to finish his sentence and he merely trailed off. Steve looked at Ransom who popped a shoulder.

“Okay, fine.” Steve consented, “but tell him to make it quick.”

Harlan nodded and picked up his phone. It was about five seconds or so before he took a deep breath. “I need to see you.”

********

Another cliff hanger...yeah I’m evil...but WHO do YOU think it is???

Find out in Part 8

#Brothers In Arms #mob ransom drysdale #mob ransom drysdale x reader #MOB Ransom Drysdale x you #mob steve rogers #mob steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #mob au #chris evans characters

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