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neonovember · 2 years

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Lemon meringues

steve rogers mafia!au

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you wasting time smelling the flowers?”

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

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

“You silly girl, you silly stupid girl”

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

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

Please no

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caroline nods, reaching for the meringue in the fridge,

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

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

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

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

It was your duty to give something back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know what you did”.

Fuck.

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sweetsbfreex · 1 year

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drunk and obsessed

Summary: a little something about a drunk steve. in the mafia steve universe

Pairing: drunk!mafia! steve rogers x reader

Warning: none rlly

“Baby, baby,” you giggle, a bit tipsy, as you try your hardest to fit the key into the door's lock. “I can’t open the door with you all over me.”

You laugh once more when Steve begins kissing your neck once again. His trimmed beard tickles your neck.

On the other hand, Steve had a bit too much to drink. And that's all your doing.

You know he feels he can never have too much to drink at these events, especially with you there. The events are filled with some of the most inimical people worldwide. So he always wants to be on his A-game for you. But that’s what body guards are for, you had argued. Pushing for him to have the time of his life with some of his friends.

Now here he was: drunk and his body cradling yours, as the two of you struggle to get in the house.

“I just love you, baby,” his words slur as he kisses your cheek.

“I love you too,” You tell him, so close to getting the fucking key to fit.

“I can’t wait to get you inside,” his voice rich and husky as he seals his promise.

“Baby, I don’t even think you could get it up right now.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Steve removes himself as your shell, both arms up in defense while he takes a few steps back.

When your senses finally catch up that he’s no longer hovering over you. You quickly turn, just stopping him before he tumbles down the step.

You hold both his hands, then let one go to grab the side of this face, “Honey, your drunk off your ass right now—“

“I am not! You just called my game weak,”

“That’s not what I said, but I need you to stand silently so I can open the door, okay?”

“Okay, pretty” he answers, landing a soft peck on your lips.

You smile as you finally open the door, reaching behind you to clasp Steve’s hand so you can pull him in.

You close the door behind him, toeing your shoes off, giggling when he has trouble with his. But five ‘fucks’ later, he finally gets it done.

“Woooo!!” Steve shoots his hand up in a v, as if his team just won the super bowl.

You’re quick to drop his arms back down to his sides, “Shhh, baby. You’re screaming.”

“I am?! I’m sorry,” his hands cup your cheeks as he pulls you for yet another kiss.

“Honey,” you laugh into his sloppy kiss. “Let’s go to bed, hm? And get some water into you.”

“I don’t wanna do bed,” he whines. “I wanna do you,” he smirks, moving one hand to grip your hip.

“Tomorrow, okay? I’m really tired.” You feign a dramatic yawn.

“You are? Okay, that’s okay, okay?” he kisses your nose this time.

Drunk sex isn’t something that hasn’t been checked off your and Steve’s list. But Steve is sloshed and can barely walk straight, so sex would not be on the menu for tonight.

“Let’s head up.” You wrap his arm over your shoulder, walking up the steps carefully.

He’s sitting at the end of the bed, his coat beside him, as you unbutton his dress shirt. You would’ve let him do it himself, but he was struggling with his lack of hand-eye coordination. Playfully slapping your hand every time your hands got close to his shirt. Giggling and joking that there would be no sexy times. That was until he had made you oath you’d keep your hands innocent.

Ever your affectionate, drunk lover.

“Are you sure you feel alright? Don't need to throw up or anything?” You ask Steve once again.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tells you then takes another swig of water.

It only takes ten minutes until he’s in his sweatpants, with no boxers (under his request). You’re changed and ready for bed, tired out from an eventful day. Steve’s favorite movie playing in the background.

Steve cuddles up close, half his brawny body on yours, his leg splayed over yours, and his head nestled on your chest.

Your fingers run through his hair soothingly.

“Y/n?”

You hum a response.

“Thank you for taking care of me, I love you too,”

“I love you too.” you laugh breathily at his mistake.

A comfortable pause ensues.

“Y/n?” His hand shimmies under your t-shirt, to caress your soft skin.

“Yes, honey,” you can’t help but laugh at the way he calls for your attention. You don’t think you’ve heard your actual name from his mouth so consistently.

“I think I wanna— I know I want to start trying soon. I wanna be a dad, a good dad.”

Your hand stills.

“What?” Your voice is quiet and relayed with shock. Your heart no longer in your chest.

He wants to try. The two of you tied the knot two months ago. However, talk of whether you guys wanted to start a family or not was shut down by Steve every time. You never wanted to push, but you also wanted to know what to expect.

Either way, He was adamant that he wasn’t ready. There was no way he could raise a baby to be half a decent human being with his trauma lingering in the shadows, among other things

He sits up abruptly, “I know, I know. I’m not sober, but I’m not lying either. I’m ready, honey… if you are.” He grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles.

“Okay,” you smile, “If you remember, we’ll continue this conversation tomorrow?”

“Okay.” He kisses your cheek before cuddling into you once again. “I wanna be the perfect dad, y/n. The best.”

“You will be.”

You tell him sweetly, your eyes stinging as you run your fingers through his hair once more.

a/n: srry it's been so long, college keeps me busy 24/7! here's this as i try and finish binky fairy pt. 2

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

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holylulusworld · 1 year

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Truth or dare

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader

Side pairings: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts

Characters: Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson, Clint Barton, Peter Parker

Warnings: angst, Steve being an asshole, mentions of arranged marriage, strong female leads, crack, redemption

A/N: I wrote a hopeful ending. Not a fluffy one.

“Steve, why don’t you wear the blue suit? You know the one I bought some weeks ago. It’ll match the dress I’m going to wear tonight,” you look your husband up and down, smirking as he looks stunning in the suit he chose to wear.

“We won’t match,” Steve is grumpy tonight. He’s usually gentler and softer around you. “No ladies tonight. This meeting is about business and forming an even stronger bond. Things you don’t know shit about.”

“But-“ you frown deeply. “Pepper said she’ll be there. Natasha and Sarah will come. Darcy will bring her better half too.”

He sighs so deeply you fear he’ll stop breathing. “Fine. It’s a meeting for wives,” he waves you off with one flick of his wrists.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Steve?” you are confused as hell. “The ring on my finger means I’m your wife. I think I didn't get the memo we got divorced.”

“Our marriage was an arrangement to help your father out,” he bites back. His tone is filled with venom, and you flinch when he steps toward you. “Do you know why I agreed on this marriage?”

“My father was in trouble and had the money to get him out of said trouble. You wanted me in return,” you meekly reply. It’s the first time you don’t feel comfortable around your husband.

“No. I wanted to stop looking for someone I can fuck. I married you to have a warm place to put my dick. So, you can stop trying so hard to be a good wife. You are all I want. A warm body for me to use.”

You visibly flinch at the blow he just threw at you. That hurt. His words cut so deep you are not sure your heart is still beating.

Arranged or not. Your marriage was special to you. You cherished the bond you believed you have with your husband. Now he claims to not even love you.

It takes you a moment to push the tears away and keep the sob down your throat. You clear your throat and put on your best-faked smile.

“Well, then I can stop trying, Steven,” your voice is even, but inside you are dying. “You should’ve told me so much sooner. I wasted so much time on this marriage. What a shame.”

Steve watches you straighten the dress you are wearing. A dream of blue and silk. His favorite color.

You sigh deeply as you look down at your body. “This dress was fucking expensive, and I can’t return it. Maybe I can sell it on eBay or shit,” you shrug. “Some other women will kill for a second-hand designer dress like this.”

He swallows thickly as you kick off your heels and make your way toward the bathroom. “Have fun with your friends and allies. I hope Pepper is not too disappointed I’m not going to be around. We had plans. You know.”

You enter the bathroom and silently close the door. As you sink to the ground and cradle your face in the palms of your hands, Steve leaves the room.

He slams the door shut, and curses.

“How could I be so wrong? He only ever wanted to use me…”

“Hey, where’s your lovely wife?” Sam cocks his head to search the room for you. “Steve? Where is Y/N?”

“At home, where she can’t disturb business. She knows her place now,” your husband bites back. He scrunches up his nose and shrugs as Pepper and the other women gasp audibly.

“Punk don’t tell me that you took Rumlow’s comment to heart,” Bucky sizes his friend up. He frowns as Steve tells his best friend what happened tonight. “He said that you got soft to fuck with you. He was all over Y/N that night. She turned him down, you idiot!”

“Steve, no!” Sam runs one hand down his face, groaning loudly. “You got us in big trouble! My sister will murder you and me…maybe even all of us!”

Sam points at Sarah who already makes her way toward the other women in the room. Pepper’s head snaps toward Tony, and Natasha, well she opens her clutch to get a knife out.

“Oh-fuck! I won’t ever get laid ever again. Natasha will castrate all of us and make it look like an accident if she gets to know what you did,” Bucky almost whines when his wife and partner in crime stalks toward him.

Tony panics as his wife gets the gun she hides in her clutch out. “We are fucked guys,” he hiccups. “It seems like someone messed with Y/N!”

“It was him!” all men point at Steve. They take a step back and pray their wives won’t punish them for the shit Steve pulled. “We didn’t know.”

Clint starts sweating, he swallows audibly as his wife is ready to rip him a new one. “I swear, we didn’t have anything to do with this. Rumlow said that Steve got weaker and softer. He blamed Y/N for it.”

“Brock Rumlow is not one of us,” Natasha snaps at Clint. “What he says or does is of no interest to us. But—” she points her knife at Steve, “this bastard dared to hurt Y/N. So…we will hurt him.”

“Agreed,” Pepper smirks darkly. “Ladies…get him…”

“Do you remember when you married Y/N?” Natasha circles Steve like a lion waiting to pounce on their prey. “Didn’t she look beautiful in her wedding gown? All for you, you moron.”

“Yeah,” he splutters. “You have to understand, a man my stand can’t let a woman rule his life. I need to make sure no one damages my reputation. If not, people will think I'm easy prey. Just like my family and friends.”

“You’re not an easy target because your friends protect you,” Pepper snaps at Steve. “Because all of us are a family we protect each other. We welcomed Y/N into this family, and you hurt our sister.”

“Damn right,” Sarah slaps the back of Sam’s head. “Don’t you have anything to say to your friend, Sammy?”

“Steve…uh…maybe you should go home and fix things with Y/N?” Sam offers. “I bet she’s crying her eyes out right now.”

Tony rolls his eyes and groans loudly. “You’re not helpful at all, Wilson.”

“You may think you and your allies rule this world,” Natasha clicks her tongue. “You are dead wrong.” She sneers as Bucky, Steve, and Tony glare at her.

“We, the women behind all of you make sure no war breaks out. Do you know how often an afternoon tea with one of our enemies’ wives saved your ungrateful asses?”

Natasha slaps the back of Bucky’s head. “Because in the end, you are all just angry children trying to get a new toy. Rumlow’s fiancé will set him straight too. We called her, his mother, and every female family member we could reach.”

“Oh-uh…he’s fucked too,” Bucky chuckles. “At least he will go down with all of us.”

I’m going to experience a dry spell,” Tony sighs deeply. “Again…Thanks, Rogers. Thank you so very much for fucking with your wife.”

“You!” Sarah points at Steve. “You will go home and apologize to Y/N. If she sheds only one more tear because of you, you’re going to lose more than your reputation.”

“BALLS!” Pepper exclaims. “We will cut them off.”

“Along with your dick,” Natasha grunts. “Now, off and you better make things up to her.”

“Darling?” Steve silently tiptoes inside the mansion. He has a huge bouquet of roses in his arms. “Baby doll? Uh-I’m back home. Doll? Y/N?”

He sighs as you don’t run toward him. Usually, you would drop everything and run into his arms to pepper kisses all over his face. Or drop to your knees to get your hands on his dick. Depends on your mood.

“Sir, Mr. Rogers,” Peter, the youngest member of Steve’s organization stutters. “Mrs. Rogers retreated to one of the guest rooms.”

“What?”

“She said that you could have the bedroom and that you can visit her when you feel the need…” Peter’s face turns crimson as he must tell his boss about all the things you told him. “Marriage duties…uh…Sir…please don’t make me say it.”

“Fuck’s sake, Rumlow,” Steve grunts. He pushes the roses into Peter’s hands. “Put them in a vase and bring them to my wife. Tell her to come back to the bedroom.”

“Sir. I think…”

“I don’t pay you to think,” Steve yells now. “She will come back, or I’ll make her come back. It’s up to her.”

“Sir…I think you should…”

“One more word and you can look for a new job.”

Steve storms off. He’s fuming. There he was, believing you lie awake, waiting for him to come home and make things up to you. But no. You moved out of your shared room to be a brat…

“Mrs. Rogers, good morning,” one of the maids' chirps. “Do you want to make breakfast for Mr. Rogers again?” She smiles softly.

In silence, you pass your husband sitting at the kitchen counter without even looking at him.

“No. Someone thinks that I should stop trying to be a good wife. I’ll go for an apple. You can ask Mr. Rogers if he wants breakfast this morning.”

You open the fridge to get a bottle of water. Steve flinches as you slam the door shut. He watches you grab an apple and leave the kitchen before he can even say a single word.

“Sir, do you want breakfast?” the maid meekly asks. She doesn’t know what happened between you and your husband. But she knows it’s better to duck your head and stay out of Steve Rogers’ business.

“No. I’m already fed up,” he grunts and gets up from the stool, knocking it over. “Take the day off. All of you. I need some time with my wife…”

Steve enters the living room, huffing as you pump up the volume. Lily Ellen yells ‘Fuck you’ at him, and he makes a face.

“We need to talk.”

You ignore his presence, even shy away when he sits next to you on the sofa.

“Doll, look at me.”

You don’t look at him. It hurts too damn much to look at the man you believed is an angel when in reality he’s a cruel demon.

“I want to talk to my wife,” he groans as you shut off the TV and get up from the sofa. You don’t speak, or at least look at him.

He’s left behind with fond memories of the last time you watched a movie together. You were seated on his lap and played with his hair.

Steve tried to convince you to watch the movie but you crawled off his lap to open his fly. You got his dick out to play with little Steve while he struggled to focus on the movie.

He closes his eyes, basking in the memory of your pouty lips when you insisted on sucking his dick. Steve gave in. As so often. You only had to bat an eyelash and he caved in.

“Sir, Mr. Rogers," Peter pokes his head inside. He feels his cheeks heat up as Steve cups his crotch. “Do you want me to drive Mrs. Rogers?”

“Drive…what?” Steve realizes what he was doing and drops his hand from his crotch as he stares at Peter. “What are you talking about?”

“She said something about lawyers."

Steve hurriedly steps inside the guest room, watching you undress. “What are you doing? Doll, I tried to talk to you and now you are…”

“What the fuck? Can a woman not change clothes without you creeping on me?” you snap at Steve. “Get out!”

“You love it when I watch you undress.”

“I made you believe I do,” you chuckle darkly. “I’m damn skilled at faking things. Aren't I?" you ask as you glance at Steve. “All these times I pretended you made me cum or turned me on? I should get a fucking Oscar.”

“Doll, don’t go there,” he warns.

“I had to play with my toys before you came home to get wet for you. I never wanted to marry you. And I never had feelings for you.”

Steve knows you are lying. The way you tend to his wounds after a fight, gentle yet determined tells a different story. You always worried about him.

After a particularly hard day, or rather after you tended to a deep gash on his lower back you wouldn’t let him out of sight for a week. You clung to him like you were glued to his hips.

“Why not? All you want from me is a dripping hole, right?” you wrinkle your nose to push the tears away. “I’m nothing to you.”

He steps closer to you and places his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, I’m sorry for the stupid things I said. You know that I only tried to protect my reputation.”

“I will go on a short vacation with Pepper, Sarah, Darcy, Natasha, and Okoye. If you need to get off in the meantime, use your hand, Steven. I think you’ll remember how to jerk off by the end of my vacation.”

“Vacation…what?”

He gasps when you shove his hand off your shoulder. “If you would excuse me now, I need to pack a few things for my little getaway…”

Steve watches you storm out of the guest room. He huffs and curses his damn pride. If only he didn’t listen to Brock Rumlow.

“I didn’t have sex for three weeks thanks to you, Steve!” Bucky complains loudly. “Natasha and I do it daily. Now. Nothing. Not even a handjob!”

Tony nods in agreement. “Same.”

“Don’t ask me,” Clint grumbles. “I will never see a boob in my life.”

“Our wives are officially on strike,” Tony buries his face in his hands. “Pepper said they won’t do shit for us, or with us if you don’t make things up to Y/N.”

“Do something, punk! I want to have sex in this decade again!” Bucky threatens. “If not, I’ll make your life living hell!”

“How? She refuses to talk to me, Buck! I tried to apologize, and she decided to go on vacation with your wife and the others. I tried,” Steve replies.

“Try harder then, punk.”

Steve gives his friend a stern look before deciding it’s time to get his wife back. He won’t back down now. “I’ll get my girl back. No matter what!”

“Steven Grant Rogers! Why are you here, in my room covered in blood?” you put your hands on your hips as you drink your husband’s appearance in. “Why are you hurt?”

His tie hangs losely around his neck. Someone ripped his shirt open. Steve’s hair is a mess, and his face had to endure a few punches at least.

“I got into a fight with security at the spa,” he huffs. “They are damn tough for security guards at a spa! I told them I want to see my wife.”

“Well, it’s their job to keep creeps out of here,” you sass. “I see now they did a poor job of keeping you out.”

“I’m not some creep, Y/N.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and gives you a puppy dog look. “I came here to apologize again. You know I didn’t mean a thing I said that night.”

“You sure about that? Because it sounded like you are damn serious to me that night,” you quip and turn your back on Steve. “Maybe you should file for divorce. A hooker is cheaper than a wife.”

“I was wrong,” he moves toward you. Steve sighs as you shy away again. “One thing wasn’t a lie.”

You sniff, ready for another blow.

“You are all I need," he says as he wraps his arms around your waistline. “I would’ve helped your father a thousand times to get you, doll. You know that. Deep inside your fractured heart, you know that I love you.”

“I’m not sure about it.”

“How about I reassure you that I love you, Y/N?” he offers. “I’ll take a whole month off and we will fly to Paris just like you always wanted.”

“I’ll consider your suggestion,” you won’t give in so easily. Steve hurt you deeply. Even worse. He made you feel unwanted, unloved, and worthless. “For now, all I can offer is to fix the mess you call your face.”

He grins. “That’s a start…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #mobster!steve rogers x fem!reader #mobster!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mafia au

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

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I’m Your Whore

Summary: who deserves to be called the White Wolf

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia X Reader X Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, threesome, rough sex, sucking, sex with an audience, creampie, hair pulling, D/s dynamics, cuckolding, spit roast, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.1K

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Geralt Masterlist

“We’re here ma’am,” Pietro looks at you through the rear view mirror, and you wait for your bodyguard to open the door. Upon looking away, Pietro gives a quick wink to the giant at your side.

Geralt leans over to you, whispering a quick, “Are you sure you want to do have this meeting in your condition?” You roll your eyes and push the man out of the car.

“Go on, White Wolf. I will not have you telling me what it is that I need to do,” Geralt loved your sass. It was a bit unpredictable at times, and he hopes that you are of clear mind during your meeting with Steve and his own White Wolf.

He gets out, holding the door open for you, and extends his hand. Waiting for you to take a few steps forward, and he begins following you. Your head high as you walk through the halls of Steve’s estate. Your heels clicking down the way, alerting Steve of your arrival, and he peeks his head out of his office.

“Nice of you to join me,” the blonde man gives you a nod as he holds his hand out for you to follow him into the room. You greet his own guard Bucky with a nod, and wait on Geralt to pull out your chair before he takes the place behind you. His hands crossed in front of him. Geralt gives a quick smile to Bucky, and turns his gaze down to look at your lap.

“Steve, what is the meaning of this?” You cock up a perfectly arched eyebrow watching as he takes his place at the other end of the table. Bringing your fingers onto the table, your French manicure taps on the lavish wood, but he still sits there quietly.

His ringed fingers rub over his lips, pursing them in thought, “Steven? I haven’t got all day.”

“It appears that we have a dilemma?”

“Oh?” You turn your head to look at him, “And what is our dilemma?”

“Do you not find it curious that both our guards have the same nickname?” You lean back into your chair, and shake your head. When he continues to sit silently, you tap on Geralt’s hand, and he scoots your chair back. Standing up with his assistance, Steve’s slams a fist on the table, “Sit down.”

You sit quickly, glaring at him. Daring him to say another word, “I proposed a way to determine who should keep their name,” you sigh, taking a deep breath, annoyed that Steve was wasting your time. “Why don’t they see who can make you cum faster?”

“Steve!”

“What?” He chuckles, “Are you trying to say that you haven’t look at either of these men and imagined what they would feel like buried in between your thighs? You keep Geralt on a short leash, while you eye Bucky every time you’re in his presence. Try and deny it, Darling. You are curious.”

“Is this why you gave me an out to this meeting?” You turn around to look at your White Wolf, and he nods with a smirk. “The three of you just casually discuss my cunt?”

“Yes,” Steve tells you, spinning around a few of his rings. “It’s not everyday we see a strong woman with so much power. Sometimes it’s nice to see the face she makes at her most vulnerable?”

“And when is that, Steve?”

“Right before climax. You let your walls down as your cunt clenches down on a fat cock. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head, while you’re taken to another plane of existence. Just pleasure. Pure, unadulterated, sinful, pleasure. Seeing how both men want to keep their nickname, you will be the judge on who is in fact the White Wolf? Look at it as becoming their She Wolf. One will rise in ranks, while the other will be reborn. Are you not going to take me up on my offer? I’m giving you a gift.”

Steve’s eyes darken as he watches you. Your eyes coast down Bucky’s front, before you look back at Steve, “And where do you propose that this takes place?”

Steve snaps his fingers, and Geralt lifts your body up, sitting you down on the table, before he steps in between your thighs. Pushing them so wide that your skirt rips. Gasping up at him, and Bucky crawls on the table behind you.

“You’re wanting to watch?” You look back nervously at Steve, but he was already making himself comfortable in a chair, perfect to view you being taken apart by the large men. Bucky’s mouth attaches to your neck, and he leaves a trail of goosebumps with every open mouth kiss he presses onto you. Sucking bruises into your skin, while Geralt’s fingers make shapes on your thigh. Slowly making their way up higher.

“Why would I not want to? I need to see which one brings out the prettiest sounds in your voice,” he stands up, walking behind Geralt. Getting right in his ear, while his lust blown eyes stare down at you, “Here’s your chance White Wolf. Fuck her.”

“Geralt,” you say his name quickly, but then his body rolls, and you feel his bulge at your core.

“What do you say, Darling? You up for the challenge?”

“Yes,” you whimper out, and Bucky lays you flat on the table. His mouth moving your own. Kissing you upside down, while his fingers rip off your blouse. The different feeling of his flesh hand and metal hand kneading your tits has you moaning into his mouth.

Geralt rips off your panties, and spreads your legs out wide. Whistling at just how wet you were, and it was all for them. His hands grab at the back of your knees, and he brings them down by your side. Making your legs go in the same direction as your head, and Bucky finally lifts up. Watching Geralt take his thick cock out, and slaps it against your clit, creating strings of his precum and your arousal.

Pushing his thick cock in your entrance, he quickly pushes all the way in, before pulling out just as fast. Leaving you whining at the violent stretch and added loss of him. Panting, and Bucky lifts you up, and forces your head to look at your spread cunt. “Watch him this time,” he coos into your ear.

Geralt slides into your warmth slowly this time. Wanting you to feel every inch of his cock. Every ridge of his length hugged by your cunt tightly. And when he bottoms out, your wide eyes look up at him. Bucky’s hand presses onto your stomach, and you look over at Steve, “What is it?”

“Oh, he’s in her stomach. You see that,” he moves his hand, bringing your own to the bump on your belly. “You feel it?” Geralt pulls himself out slowly. Achingly slow, and you watch the bulge disappear. And then he pounds into your heat with fury, and you feel it balloon back up. “You like that? You like how deep he is?”

��Uh-huh,” your fingers grip onto his wide waist, and you give him a little nod. “Wanna feel you more, White Wolf.”

Geralt grunts, and starts rutting into you. Overpowering your body, while you become a complete mess. “Steve,” you call out his name, eyes glancing over at him. He was enjoying the show. Taking a slow drink of his bourbon, while his hand palms himself. “Steve!”

“Does your White Wolf make you feel full?” You nod your head, gasping when Geralt’s tip edges at your cervix. “He is a big boy. Thick and veiny, just how you like it, huh? You gonna be a whore for Geralt?” You shake your head no, because while you enjoyed this, you didn’t want to be a whore for him.

“Would you hurry up,” Bucky pleads, giving your nipples a hard pinch. “I wanna see how much her hole is gaping when your finished with her.”

Geralt, a man of few words, picks up his pace. Rolling his pelvis deep into your cunt. He was a genius. Hitting every one of your spots, and your eyes go hazy as euphoria pulses through your body. Your velvet walls clench tight around him, and he grunts, struggling to pull himself out. You had him in a vice grip. Taking every inch of him.

“She’s been gripping me tight,” he grunts out. Gritting his teeth, he slams into you one more time before his spunk paints your heated walls.

“Move,” Bucky demands, getting himself onto the floor. He twists your body to lay on your stomach. Gripping your hair at the root, he lifts your head to look at Steve, “Want him to see what a mess I can make you.”

His movements were smooth as he pushes into you. His own little whimper rings into your ears, and you weren’t prepared for how soaking wet his pretty sounds were going to make you. A fresh flood of slick coats your walls. And he moans again. Starting to rut into you vigorously.

Hips pounding onto your ass, and he starts nibbling at your shoulder. Smirking up at Steve when his hand wraps around your body, and he starts making tight circles on your bundle of nerves. Bucky lets go of your hair, and your head droops down. Your mouth dry at all the sounds you’ve made, but there was one that Steve wasn’t ready to hear.

“Bucky,” you choke out as pleasure overtakes you.

Steve stands up, and is over to you in two strides. Gripping at your cheeks, lifting your face up to look at him, “Now, I thought I told you I was giving you a gift. These two men may be fucking you dumb, but I’m the only one that should be on your mind. If I hear you say, moan, scream, or even fucking mumble one of their names again, I will fuck you so hard you’ll be walking funny for a week. Don’t test me, Princess. You said I owned this pussy, and I will let anyone fuck her, and you’ll like it, but only your husband’s name echos off those pretty lips. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you pant out. Your voice was hoarse already, and your head bounces around with Bucky’s motions. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“You’re forgiven,” Steve was so fucking hard. He was refusing to pull his cock out. His thick hand just rubs over his tighten pants, and you drool at how calm he was.

Flat on your stomach, while you look over to your husband, Bucky props himself up on his fists. He pistons hard into your abused snatch, and you let out a loud drawn out moan. Everyone in the house can hear you. Could hear the table legs scratch the floor with every hard pound into you that Bucky makes. Your pussy makes loud squelching sounds. It reverberates off the wall, and all three men are mesmerized by how much you could take.

Geralt walks over to lift your chin up, and you realize that he had crawled onto the table. Your face right in between his thighs, “You’re not too dumb to suck on my fat cock, are you?”

“N-n-no,” Bucky doesn’t slow with your whimpers. In fact it just makes him slam into your harder. Using his thrusts to bob you over Geralt’s cock. Bucky doesn’t even care that your cunt is clenching down on him again. He looks up at his best friend with a smirk. Flicking his head over to Steve, who stands up.

Bucky makes sure to pull his cock almost completely out of you. Letting your husband watch as your cream coats Bucky’s member. Your slick covers his cock as it glistens in the lighting.

“Yep, this is a perfect way to occupy your mouth. So who gets to keep the White Wolf?”

Pulling his cock out of you, Geralt slaps you across the face, asking who again, pulling his dick out of your mouth to slap across your cheeks. “Both. Both,” you whimper out again. Looking up at Steve who finally fists his cock slowly. “Both!” You scream out as Bucky slams into your cunt one last time before he spurts deep into your core, and you moan out Steve’s name.

“Alright, gentleman. Stay if you wish, but looks like we’re going to have to do this again. At least until she chooses” he walks over to you, and pushes Bucky out of the way. “Stay if you must, but now, I’m going to be the one to fuck my wife. Even if she is a bit incoherent now. You can handle a few more orgasms, right?”

You give him a nod as he lines himself up. Taking a deep breath before he barrels into your warmth, “I’ll let you know when you can play again boys,” Steve always controlled the situation. Always. “And you my darling wife. You take cock like the best girl. It’s like you were made to be my whore, huh?”

“Yes, sir. I’m your whore.”

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @infatuatedjanes @missusbarnes-rogers @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @peaches1958 @thedarkplume @rebekahdawkins @seitmai @harrysthiccthighss @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @smile1318

#mafia au #wolf v wolf #white wolf v white wolf #Geralt x reader x Bucky Barnes #geralt of rivia #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #geralt x reader #geralt x fem!reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #bucky barnes smut #geralt of rivia smut #geralt smut #henry cavill #sebastian stan #steve rogers

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stuckymonkey · 9 months

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Masterlist

Welcome aboard ⚓🦜

Minors DNI, but you are responsible for your own media consumption.

Requests and asks are welcome! I will try to write them as best and as fast as I can!

about the authour

Angst 🩵 Fluff🍓 Smut🐓

✿ᴗ⁠✧ᴗ⁠✷ᴗ⁠✯⁠ᴗ⁠✯ᴗ⁠✷ᴗ⁠✧ᴗ✿ᴗ✯⁠ᴗ⁠✯

bucky barnes

sebastian stan

natasha romanoff

buckynat x reader

stucky

stucky x reader

steve rogers

sam wilson

chris evans

kinktober week 1

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sunflowersoldat · 7 months

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Blood In The Water Master List

Main Master List

Series Summary: Spin-off to All is Fair. Mob syndicates are yours and your partner's specialty. They don't call you the Sharks for nothing. There is blood in the water in New York City, not only is know Mob affiliate Steve Rogers missing, but the two other Mob bosses died in a huge shootout last year. It is up to you and your partner to uncover the truth, but not all is as it seems.

Series Warnings: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter. There are chapters with brutal and dark themes, please read at your own discretion, warnings will be before each chapter!

Pairing: Mob!Buckyx FBI Agent!reader

Chapters are in chronological order.

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

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alexsmirrorball · 2 years

Text

Cheack out my work if you're interested🧡

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myfictionaldreams · 8 months

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Something New // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: The mafia leader was known to be possessive and enjoy showing off his girl but what happens when he wants to do this by being intimate with you in front of his gang?

A/N: This is included in the Mafia!Stucky series however this is set before Bucky joined the trouble x

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub undertones, exhibitionism, edging, teasing, authority kink, desk sex, rough sex, fingering, begging, pet names, safewords in place, possessive behaviour, creampie, cockwarming

Words: 3.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Steve Rogers, the leader of the infamous Brooklyn mafia gang, woke you up with his face between your legs. Well, you were already half awake, listening to the birds chirping outside as Steve shuffled down the bed and you didn’t bother to open your eyes even as he settled onto his stomach, heavy hands pushing against the back of your thighs until you were open and bare to him.

It seemed he was in a teasing, slow mood this morning. In no rush whatsoever which only meant one thing: edging. Gentle licks, exploring, bringing you lazily to the brink of euphoria before he blew away the intense feeling.

Before your eyes had even opened for the first time that day you were a quivering, sopping mess. Mewling whilst clawing the sheets beneath to refrain from ripping Steve’s hair out through frustration at wanting to orgasm.

This was only made worse when his phone began to ring from the nightstand and instead of ignoring it like you silently prayed he would, Steve reached over and answered, still whilst lying between your legs. As he spoke to whoever it was that had called, he casually played with your clit, rolling it with the pad of his thumb, watching how your body reacted but never enough stimulation that you were on the verge of an orgasm.

Your moans didn’t dampen in noise so whoever was on the other end of the phone was sure to hear what was happening but you didn’t care, there was nothing you wanted more at that moment than to find your fulfilment.

“No worries at all Buck, we’ll be down in 10 minutes. No, you weren’t interrupting anything, it’s fine”, Steve began crawling back off of the bed as he spoke to the now-identified person on the phone. Your eyes finally snapped open as you cried out in disdain, sitting up and reaching for him but Steve just hung up the phone with a tormenting smile and tapped the side of your leg, “Come on we need to get to the office, Bucky’s waiting downstairs.”

“But- I-, wait-”, you stuttered over your words, sounding pathetic and needy which earned you a somewhat sympathetic smile from your beefy boyfriend who was gloriously naked and hard as he began to lean over to kiss your temple gently.

“Don’t wearing anything under the dress today and we might be able to continue this sooner rather than later”.

So there you were, sitting on the small lounger in the gang’s office, knees tucked under your body to hide the fact that you were pantieless, a book in hand but not reading a single word. Not as your attention was snagged on the hulking form behind the main oak desk, his ‘work face’ on which only seemed to make you more aroused with the authority that seemed to roll off of his shoulders but in other ways made you feel safe.

You watched out of the corner of your eye, the way his muscles flexed beneath his crisp white shirt and tight black dress pants, his thick fingers littered with tiny scars from the fights he’d been in, moving across the laptop with surprising speed, dreaming of them between your thighs or around your throat.

Before the two of you arrived, Steve seemed to constantly have his hands on you, whether it was leading you to the car with his warmth seeping through your dress on your lower back where he pressed. In the car, his fingers casually massaged your exposed thighs, especially as he noticed the way you couldn’t look Bucky in the eye as he’d heard your whimpers over the phone.

So now that you were sitting away from him, feeling touch starved and wanting to be close to your boyfriend, even as you tried to will your body to think about anything else like falling into the fantasy world of the book in your hand but nothing worked.

Thankfully Steve paused for lunch, asking one of his employees to go and get some fast food, craving burgers and fries and getting enough for everyone. As the food arrives and the smell wafted into your sense, Steve finally turned his attention back to you as he eased his seat away from his desk.

“Come up here baby girl”, he instructed, patting the desk in front of him, that he had just cleared the space of. Holding out his large hand, he helped you onto the cold surface, and you automatically spread your legs slightly to give him room to scoot his chair forward, which displayed your pussy to him.

Your whole body warmed instantly with embarrassment as you glanced over your shoulder to look at the gang members, realising the intimate position you were in with Steve sitting between your legs. However, no one seemed to be phased at all as they all continued working, even your new friend and bodyguard Bucky didn’t look in your direction as he ate half of his burger in one glorious bite.

Steve’s hand travelled up the outside of your thigh, leaving goosebumps in his finger's path, drawing your attention back to him. The look on his face was all you needed to know, his usually bright crystal blue eyes were now dark, his full lips moist from where he’d recently licked them and the bulge growing in his pants was evident to anyone.

“Everything alright up there?” You’re looking a little distracted?”, Steve smirked as your eyes snapped to his, away from his crotch where you’d just been staring.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to ignore the agonisingly deep ache in your core and instead plastered a fake smile on your face. “Yeah, I’m fine, just hungry”. A half lie, you were hungry but for the fast food.

“Well now, I can’t be leaving my girl hungry now, can I?”, Steve mused, startling you as his fingers brushed against the sensitive area of your inner thigh before standing quickly and leaning over to the bag of food. As he continued to tower over you, he opened the bag and took out a few fries, his lips quipping up into a smirk as he thought of an idea.

“How about we play a fun little game, to make up for earlier? I get to kiss you for every fry that I feed you”.

The sound of your heartbeat pounded in your ears, your body humming with anticipation and arousal. He was going to feed you which was an intimate touch without the kisses and fact you were still displayed before him on his desk. You didn’t need to think about it though, it was only a kiss after all and the others behind you didn’t know you’d gone without underwear today so with a smile, you perked your lips and nodded.

Steve huffed a chuckle as he leaned his weight on an arm next to you, ducking his head to peck your lips quickly before feeding you a fry directly into your mouth where you happily chewed.

Steve fed himself a handful of fries before picking up another one for you. This time he kissed the tip of your nose, which had you leaning forward trying to chase his lips, expecting him to kiss there as well but he simply fed you the next fry instead.

With each kiss, Steve picked a different location. Each of your cheeks, forehead, your chin, the backs of your hands and after every touch, he’d feed you a fry. As his mouth descended lower, your body stiffened once again remembering your location and how public it was, even though his lips felt so incredibly good grazing over your pulse point along your throat.

Your next move seemed to be on instinct like you were receiving a reward for being kissed. Instead of just opening your mouth and accepting the food, your mouth opened and tongue sticking out, eyes wide and looking up at him through your lashes. Steve sucked in a breath, his crotch moving closer to yours as he delicately placed the fry on your tongue where you moved it into your mouth and chewed slowly.

However, your actions seemed to push Steve a little further as he began to move the delicate strap of your dress off of your shoulder so that he could kiss the exposed area. The slightest bit of undressing had you coming out of the needy little bubble you’d created around the two of you.

“Wait, Steve”, you whisper, moving backwards so that you could look at him.

“Yes, baby?”, he asked casually and like he didn’t have a care in the world, other than you.

“I think it’s… I mean, there are people- Shouldn’t we go somewhere else?”, your words jumbled into one as your mind became fuzzy with conflicting thoughts.

Steve simply smiled at you, dropping his face again to nuzzle his mouth into your cheek. “Why would I need to go somewhere else? This is my office, my team, my building… my girl”, with each word that he spoke against your lips, his fingers crept dangerously high up your inner thigh once more.

The air suddenly felt thick and warm as you sucked in deep breaths trying to keep composure. “Steve we can’t-”.

“Why not, Princess?”

“Because there are people here in the room, your friends!”, you dropped your voice so it was only audible to Steve, forgetting that Bucky also had enhanced hearing.

Steve crowded you in by placing his arms on either side of you on the desk, his voice just as quiet as yours to mimic you, “Yes, there are people in the room but they don’t care. I could bend you over this table right now and fuck you until the sun sets and they wouldn’t even glance in our direction”.

The breath caught in your throat as your hands slacked onto the top of your legs, the words failing to form in your mouth as you still held some uncertainty but more than anything, the need for him to do exactly what he’d just mentioned became an obsessive thought.

Steve could see and feel your hesitancy. Standing back to his full height, he gently cupped your face, holding eye contact as he spoke. “I’m not going to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, you know that and our safe words are always in place. If you want to go to a private room we can however, I am paying everyone enough money and also trust them that they wouldn’t be phased by our actions. You’re safe here, in this room, with these people and with me”.

You felt like you were floating, skin prickling with the burst of energy and anticipation pouring through you. There was no one you trusted more than Steve Rogers and even the people working behind you were becoming close with, trusting and becoming your friends.

“Do you remember what it was that I told you a couple of weeks ago? About being possessive over what belongs to me? This is one of those things, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing but there’s nothing I’d love more than to show you off, display you before everyone, making you moan those sweet delicious sounds that only I can make you do because you’re mine. And no one elses. Does that make sense?”

It made a lot of sense and now you thought of it, he had been quite obsessive with touching you in public before, or fucking you in areas such as dressing rooms or the back of his car in a busy car park, just because he loved the thrill of getting caught. So, now understanding that he also had quite a significant exhibitionist kink, it answered a lot of questions.

If he had asked you in any other situation if he could fuck you in front of someone, you would have said no just for sheer embarrassment. But like this, where you were already needy and horny, Steve showing his possessive side as well only fueled your arousal which was very uncomfortable. Your juices were now soaking your upper thighs, clit throbbing and pussy clenching around nothing but desperate to be full.

Maybe you were thinking from between your legs rather than your clear mind but all you wanted right now was to have Steve touch you. Biting your lip, you nodded up at him. Steve tilted his head with a raised eyebrow and you realised he needed to hear your words, he always liked you to be as vocal as possible. “I want you, sir”.

Your blonde boyfriend, pulled your face to meet his in a delicate kiss before he released his hold and sat back into his chair, reaching into the bag and placing another fry into your mouth, the fun game having already been forgotten about but you took it happily.

Whilst not blinking, you watched as Steve spread your legs further, pushing any of your remaining dress material out of the way so that he could admire the way your pussy glistened in the light of the day.

“I’m so glad you’ve gone without panties today. Eyes on me and remember, the safe words if you want to pause or stop. Don’t think about the others in the room, just think about where my lips are touching”.

You do as instructed, your lips parted slightly, panting as he presses a single kiss to your mound. Then he’s offering you another fry, his eyebrow once again rising as you don’t immediately accept it as you were slightly preoccupied. Eating it quickly, hardly chewing before swallowing, you watched with thick anticipation as he chuckles and begins to bring your legs forward and up over his shoulders.

Leaning your weight back of his desk, hands behind you, he kisses more firmly and then gives you another fry. The next kiss was more open-mouthed and you sighed in relief as his opened lips stroked your labia. Another fry was given. Then his tongue was mixing into the play, pushing firmly to dip between your folds and your hands give up with holding up your weight as you sit back and rest on your elbows.

The next time food was given, you could hardly chew it in time as Steve licked a deep line from your hole up to your clit. You were lying completely flat against the desk now, mouth open and fries forgotten about, as Steve began to eat like a man starved, devouring your cunt with sucks, licks and kisses, occasionally even scraping his teeth against sensitive spots.

One of his firm hands was laying across your stomach, pressing down so that you were kept still for his enjoyment and the other held onto one of your thighs, massaging the flesh and holding it close to his face. Thankfully he was not in a teasing mood anymore as he drank your juices, tongue exploring your clenching hole, pushing in as far as he could reach before circling your bundle of nerves.

You’d already mostly forgotten about the other people in the room until they would do something like walk across the room or talk to someone on the phone. Your eyes were closed and your mind focused intently on Steve. To be honest with yourself, you could kind of see it from Steve's point of view. Here you were with the most infamous mafia leader on the East Coast, his only thought at this moment was to pleasure you, his girl, not caring who watched but also, wanting people to watch to show his possession and dominance over the situation.

The thought itself made you tighten around his tongue, making him moan gruffly in the back of his throat. The hand he was still using to hold onto your thigh relaxed and slide towards his mouth before his tongue was replaced by the single digit as he crooked and stroked your inner walls, coaxing the overdue orgasm from you.

Your thighs trembled around his face, almost suffocating him but he didn’t care, especially as your fingers gripped onto his soft blonde hair, pulling him closer even though there was nowhere else for him to move. Everything was burning with pleasure, like you were going to explode from your core as it built and tightened and then all at once, you were orgasming hard around his finger.

Your walls fluttered around him, chest rising and falling in quick succession. Steve didn’t stop playing with your clit or fingering your pussy until you were slumped against the surface.

You’d been biting your lip throughout it to try and remain quiet to not disturb the others working which was something Steve was not fond of as he eased your thighs carefully off of his shoulders and began to rise above your body, eyes on your lip. His eyebrows were furrowed causing a crease between them as his thumb snagged the lip away and he could see an indent from where your teeth had been biting on the flesh.

You are not bothered about the flicks of pain over your lip as you beam up at him, eyes glazed and happy. As he massages the flesh, you could now smell your juices that still coated his fingers as they were so close to his nose.

“What was that about? Why were you keeping quiet? I wanted to hear you. Guess that just means I’ve got to make you cum again”.

This was exactly what he did, his work long forgotten about as he swiftly unzipped his pants, easing his throbbing cock out of his restraints and rubbing it between your folds, coating him in your liquids before nudging his tip into your hole. There was no amount of lip biting that could keep the moans back now as he thoroughly stretched you, the mix of the burn from being opened and the pleasure from feeling full had your back arching off of the desk, fingers gripping onto his shirt desperately.

Steve did not hold back thankfully, his hips snapping frantically into yours, one hand next to your head at the edge of the desk and the other holding onto your hip, grounding you onto the surface so he could fuck you. His mouth sucked along the exposed column of your throat, whereas yours hung open with a constant flow of streams filling the room which only made Steve more feral with his actions.

Every thrust felt so powerful and deep that it took an embarrassingly short amount of time before you were having your second orgasm which only made Steve swear and grunt loudly with how tight your cunt was squeezing around his cock.

He wasn’t done though as he pinned your hands beside your head and just fucked into you desperately bringing on his orgasm until finally he stilled and made sure every single drop of his cum soaked your pussy. Even then he didn’t pull out as he gathered your exhausted body into his lap, collapsing back into the seat and tucked himself back into the desk. There you stayed, your head resting on his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath, his cock still inside of you, half hard but enough to plug his cum into your cunt.

Steve’s wrong arms wrapped around your back as you both cuddled, you needed the physical touch desperately with how much you were trembling.

“Thanks, Buck”, Steve muttered and then you were thoroughly wrapped in a fluff blanket that Bucky had found in the cupboards. Hearing Bucky’s name reminded you of the other people in the room as you tentatively glanced over your shoulder to see the brunette bodyguard walking away. As he sits, he catches your eyes and gives you a genuine, normal smile as everyone else was continuing with work as if you hadn’t just been railed over their boss's desk.

Steve groans into your ear, “If you keep squeezing me like that I’m going to stay hard forever, Princess”. You hadn’t realised how much you’d been clenching around his cock still at the thought of having just fucked in front of all of these people and had absolutely no repercussions for it. Steve cupped your cheek as you looked back at him, “Maybe you are a little exhibitionist as all”, he chuckled, kissing your temple as you relaxed back into his chest.

#mafia stucky #mafia au #mafia!stucky #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #mine*#marvel smut

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neonovember · 1 year

Text

Just like Business

Steve rogers mafia!au

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another thing that’s seemed to change this week.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve, cmon, ya sure it’s her?,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To say you were shitting yourself was an understatement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man nods honestly,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drunk college boys, either your best or worst nightmare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he doesn't notice, or at least you think he doesn't, as you peer through yellow curtains, watching his car recede into the distance, the winter moon was now high in the sky, casting a light for his route as the engine of his car roared against the asphalt roads.

This was it, you'd just made a deal with the devil, and you were already elbows deep. You wonder which one would've killed you faster? Being on the run, or being tied up in his twisted games, falling into the depth of Steve Rogers before it swallowed you whole.

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holylulusworld · 1 year

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Barnes vs Barnes (11) - Five

Summary: The unavoidable happened. What will Bucky do now?

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Ex-Wife Reader

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Steve Rogers, Nick Fowler, Jake Jensen, Mace Brown

Warnings: angst, mentions of past cheating, Lloyd being Lloyd, threats, mentions of divorce/separation, mentions of character’s death, delusional Nick, strong reader, protective Steve

Barnes vs Barnes masterlist

<< Part 10

“If no one wants to talk about the elephant in the room, I’ll take the lead,” Jake startles you when he places his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, this will be hard for you. Are you sure you want to stay?”

“This is my life,” you say, holding Bucky’s gaze. “I played by someone else’s rules all my life. If Fowler is after all of us, I need to know why.”

“We should find out where Natasha is hiding,” Steve throws in. “Maybe she can be useful. We could use her against Fowler.”

“Well,” Lloyd chuckles, “about that…she’s gone.”

“Gone?” you question. “What do you mean, Lloyd? Did she leave town already?"

“I think he killed her,” Bucky grunts. “Right? You wanted to play the hero for my wife and killed Natasha!”

“Someone had to do it, Barnes. All of you didn’t have the balls to put your hands on that bitch. She wanted to kill Y/N. I only protected my sugar plum.”

Your voice trembles as you say, “You killed her?” It’s not a secret that you hated Natasha Romanoff with passion, but you feel guilt grip your heart. Lloyd killed her for you.

“Fowler won’t like that you destroyed his toy,” Jake rolls his eyes. “Seriously. We talked about impulse control, Lloyd. You can’t run around town and kill people!”

“I didn’t run around town to kill random people. I prepared a trap for that bitch, and she walked right into it. She believed I want to help her kill Y/N,” Lloyd shrugs as everyone in the room looks at him. “Fowler won’t know it was one of us. Now, shut up, and let’s get back to business.”

“Right,” Jake glances at you. “You okay, Y/N?”

“I don’t know…” you admit. “I’m glad she’s gone but feel guilty at the same time. I need to process the new information first. But…uh…thank you, Lloyd. I know you meant well.”

“Anytime, sugar plum,” Llyod winks at you. “If we could all focus on the problem at hand. We need to take Fowler down. I don’t care if he’s Barnes’s brother or not. He must fall.”

“Agreed,” Steve hates to admit it, but Nick is a threat to you. “I don’t know about his endgame. We can’t sit around and wait for Fowler to attack us.”

Bucky sighs deeply. He drops his eyes to the wedding band around his finger, as he considers Lloyd’s suggestion. “He’s still my brother.”

“He wouldn’t hesitate to kill you, Bucky. You know that. He was the one messing with your marriage,” Steve points at Jake. “Let him show you what he did!”

“He fucked Natasha too, didn’t he?” you ask. “That’s what you are trying to hide from me. Steve, be honest with me.”

“That bastard dicked her down like there’s no tomorrow,” Lloyd huffs. “She faked it though. I bet he didn’t feed her kitty well.”

“Lloyd!” Jake exclaims loudly. “Dude, Y/N is right here. Watch your tongue.”

“O got a very talented tongue, and you’d love to feel it on…” Lloyd trails off. He huffs and shakes his head. “Anyways. What I wanted to say is that Fowler and Romanoff worked together. Before I got rid of her slutty ass, she admitted that Fowler asked her to mess with Barnes back then too.”

“What?” Bucky feels his heart break all over again. “She seduced me because of Nick. He wanted her to do so. But…why?”

Lloyd scrunches up his nose. “That’s the million-dollar question, Barnes. It seems our sweet sugar plum seems to be his endgame.” He points out, glaring at Steve. “He’s all over her, Rogers. I think this has less to do with Barnes and more to do with Y/N.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Nick wants to hurt me. He’s after me because of me,” Bucky grunts. “He was always jealous of me. Nick wants what I have.”

“Had,” you correct. “Even if Natasha only seduced you because of Nick, you still had sex with her, Bucky. Nothing will change your part in this game.”

“Back to business,” Lloyd slams his fist onto the table, making you jump. “While you tried to play footsy with Y/N,” he points at Steve, “Jake and I made sure this place is safe. It’s a fortress.”

“Nick must fall." Bucky admits. He shakes his head, asking himself once more if he could have done anything to save his brother. “It can’t be helped. I tried so often to…never mind.”

“Y/N is the key,” Jake says. “I don’t know why, but he’s obsessed with her. All his outgoing calls have one thing in common. He told everyone to get hold of her.”

“Don’t you dare say it,” Steve jumps up from his seat to tower over Jake. "We won't use Y/N as bait. NEVER!”

“AGREED!” Bucky exclaims loudly. “I will go to him and kill him. End of story. He’s my brother. I got her into this mess. I’ll make sure Y/N is safe from now on.”

“No,” you clear your throat. “Nick is after me for a reason. I don’t know his reasons, but we will find out before we kill him. Maybe if I talk to him, he’ll give up.”

“Doll, I love you but that’s the stupidest thing you ever said,” Bucky tuts. “I know I have no right to tell you what to do…”

“Damn right,” you grunt and slam your fist onto the table. “You’ve got no right to tell me what to do, Bucky! Not after what you did to us! You ruined our marriage for that bitch again. Now he tries to get his hands on me, and I have no clue why. He wanted Natasha to seduce you. Twice. It was a goddamn trap to destroy our relationship.”

“We should all calm down,” Steve tries to calm you. “Y/N, I agree with Bucky on this. I won’t risk your life.”

“This is a stupid idea, Y/N,” you roll your eyes as Jake talks to you. He gave you an earpiece and a transponder. Lloyd gave you a gun. Nothing like good friends.

Now Jake is muttering in your ear, telling you to come back and forget about your plan to talk to Nick.

“Listen, we need to find out what the fuck is going on. Nick Fowler ruined my relationship with Bucky twice. I want him to pay for it.”

“Rogers is about to kill us all. Don’t get yourself killed or he will go rampage,” Jake whispers now. “And we don’t want to talk about Barnes.”

“I’ve got this, Jakie. You know me,” you whisper as Nick approaches your table. "He’s here now. Just listen. I’ll be safe.”

You try to keep a straight face. This was your idea. If you want answers, you need to meet the enemy. “I was pleased to hear you wanted to talk to me,” Nick, ever the charmer, purrs as he takes your hand to kiss it. “I’ve been waiting to get you alone again.”

“I want answers,” you quip. “Whatever is going on between you and your brother, keep me out of this. But I want to know why you ruined my relationship. I deserve that much.”

He grips your hand, sighing deeply. “Sweets, I had hoped you want to meet up with me.”

“Sweets…” you frown deeply. You remember that nickname. When you first met Bucky he called you that. “What do you want from me? You don’t even know me.”

You try to wiggle out of his grip. “Don’t you remember? I met you first, sweets. We talked for hours, and then I had to leave. You fell in love with me, not Bucky.”

“I-I,” you shake your head. “We didn’t talk for hours, Nick. It was like five minutes. You ran into me, and we talked for a moment.”

“No-no…we talked for much longer,” he grips your hand even tighter, making you wince. “You must believe me.”

“We were just kids, Nick. Christ. I barely remember what we were talking about,” you sniff. "I didn’t fall in love with Bucky that day, or the day after. It took me months to talk to him again. Back then I had a huge crush on Steve, my best friend since childhood. Whatever you believed happened back then wasn’t real.”

“You fell in love with him because of me,” Nick insists. He tries to make you see that you should be in love with him, not his brother. “You should have become my wife.”

“No, she shouldn’t,” Steve presses a gun into Nick’s side. “I will tell you this only once. Let go of her. Y/N doesn’t want to be with you. She’s not yours, and never will be.”

“She will,” Nick grunts, but releases your hand, “be mine. Wait and see.”

Steve would love to kill Nick right here, in the middle of the café. But he won’t risk killing innocent bystanders or putting you in danger. “Soon this will end…”

You step away from Nick, nodding at Steve as you feel another presence behind you. “Let’s go, sugar plum. Your hero has arrived,” Lloyd smirks at Nick. “Oh, and Rogers tagged along…”

Tags in reblog.

#Barnes vs Barnes (1) - Five #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #mobster!bucky barnes x fem!reader #mafia au #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers #lloyd hansen #Nick Fowler

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sunshinebuckybarnes · 1 year

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It's gonna be May 🩷 we made it through April babies! Here's every glorious thing I read in April. Please make sure you give these gorgeous stories and writers the love they deserve. As always, you are responsible for your own media consumption. This blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and contain adult themes.

Happy reading 🩷🌷

Bucky Barnes ✨

Though I have never read it by @tuiccim

Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Her by @avecra

bucky barnes x reader

Sweet temptation by @jobean12-blog

Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob AU)

Thick as blood / punch in the gut by @dreamlessinparis

Dark!Bucky x Darkish!F!Reader

Say the word and it's yours by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Cordially invited by @navybrat817

Modern Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Female Reader

Grandeur by @navybrat817

Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Crossing the line by @jadedvibes

Beefy!Bucky x reader

Give it to me by @flordeamatista

dilf!neighbor bucky barnes x reader

Dirty rock by @jobean12-blog

Bucky Barnes x reader (Rockstar!AU)

Send me an angel by @navybrat817

Soft Dark Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Hide and seek by @targaryenvampireslayer

Bucky Barnes x female reader

You are my burning love on nights like these by @flordeamatista

knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Fem!Reader

Headstrong by @flordeamatista

beefy!bucky barnes x reader

The kiss by @lunarbuck

professor!bucky x f!reader (any race)

Namor ✨

Waves of love by @flordeamatista

Namor x reader

Ari Levinson ✨

Flamingo king by @onsunnyside

Trailer Park!Ari Levinson x inexperienced!reader

Biker!Ari by @angrythingstarlight

Biker!Ari x Reader

Excelled by @syntheticavenger

Dom! Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Steve Rogers ✨

Pretty flowers for a pretty girl by @witchywithwhiskey

farmer!steve rogers x reader

His inheritance by @jtargaryen18

Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Eddie Munson ✨

Magic fingers by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

Andy Barber ✨

Sleepy sex by @worksby-d

Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Hold my heart by @flordeamatista

boyfriend!andy barber x reader

Joel Miller ✨

Sweet, sweet sugar by @unrefinedmusings

no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Perfectly wrong by @psychedelic-ink

joel miller x fem!reader

Lloyd Hansen ✨

Gratitude by @kinanabinks

Lloyd Hansen x Mayor!Reader

Multiple characters ✨

Wicked little games by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia Steve x Bratty Reader, Bodyguard Bucky x Reader x Bodyguard Andy

Peepshow by @labella420

Ari Levinson x F!Reader, Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Let us take care of you by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia Stucky x Assistant Reader

#fic rec #april fic rec #bucky barnes #namor #ari levinson #steve rogers #eddie munson #andy barber #joel miller #lloyd hansen

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harlequin-hangout · 1 year

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Incapable

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mob violence, violence against reader (Not Bucky), mature themes, Brock Rumlow just as a person, guns, general mob fuckery, light alcohol use, slutty themes ( Minors DNI), Kidnapping, torture

Contains: Arranged marriage, fluff, some angst, femme fatale/boss bitch energy, strangers to lovers maybe? Happy ending

Word Count: 4.7k

Dividers are made by me! Want some for yourself? Send me an ask!

Summary: Bucky Barnes is the only person to treat you as human, despite your marriage being transactional. How will you react when he's kidnapped?

I do not nor will I ever give permission for my writing to be copied, pasted, reposted to other sites, or edited in any way shape or form. Seriously, just don’t.

A/N: I did not make the gif, and @vbecker10 inspired me to use it. Just look at him! Adorable, and so, so done with people's bullshit. If this progressed kind of fast, I'm sorry! I really didn't want to start another series, and I didn't want to publish something that was INSANELY long either. I love writing our Reader as someone who can handle herself, it makes me so happy. I hope you all can enjoy another Badass Reader fic!! (There will be a super slutty epilogue but I'm so ready for this to be out so the smut will appear in the next bit, but both pieces can be read on their own)

The door to your house was broken. Someone had kicked it in. You step over broken glass, finding every drawer ripped apart.

“James?” You called out to your husband. Silence was the only answer you received.

“Bucky??” Your voice was more desperate. You ran from room to room, only finding more destruction. Making your way into Bucky’s office last, you found his sitting corner smashed, with blood staining the carpet and upholstery. A broken cell lay on the ground – Bucky’s work phone. The picture of you and Bucky on your wedding day had been ripped out of its frame, the blade of a hunting knife stuck in the side table through the photo of Bucky, while your face had been scratched beyond recognition. There was no mistaking the message that the sender was intending. Though your marriage wasn’t traditional, James Buchanan Barnes had never made you feel like property. Your husband was the only person in your life that hadn’t treated you like a means to an end, like a bargaining chip or a high-ticket item, and he was missing. You pick up the cracked phone on the ground, managing to turn it on enough to get Steve’s number out of it. You dial, hang up after one ring, then call right back.

“Hey, Buck, what’s up?” You hear Steve’s jovial voice on the line.

“He’s made his move. Get Wilson and be here in 20.” Your voice was calm, but Steve could hear the icy bite.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I know this is tough but–”

“But nothing, Rogers.” You cut him off. “I know that I haven’t been involved in the business, but this is personal. 20 minutes. Wilson. Bring however many weapons you can carry.” You hung up, not waiting for a response.

Your marriage was transactional, you’d known that from the start. You’d been adopted by Rumlow Senior when your mother had passed, and been raised alongside his son, Brock. At least, that’s the story the Public knew. You had been part of your mother’s efforts to pay off her debts to the Rumlow Mafia family. Your father had passed from massive medical complications – you didn’t know a lot of the details, you had been too young to understand and no one had ever given you much to go on past that – and your mother had borrowed money from the Rumlows to help pay for his treatments. There wasn’t money to pay back her loans, so she paid them back the only way she could. Your mother had become the infamous Mafia fixer known as Lady Death, and you had been sent to live with the Rumlow family at age five as insurance. She had been legally dead since you were adopted by the Rumlows, but your mother had been killed for real on an assignment when you were seventeen. After over a decade with the family, Rumlow Senior had made you a deal. Keep playing the role of his adoptive daughter, and you would be kept safe. When you were twenty one, you were given a choice. Rumlow Senior would be stepping down as head of the Rumlow Family that year.

“But why would you pick me?” The question hung heavy in the air of Rumlow Senior’s office.

“You have been raised in the Family just as Brock has, Y/N. You are every bit as ruthless as my biological son, and I have complete faith that you would make the right decision for the future of the family whenever the need arose. Unlike my son, however, you have a cool head on your shoulders. You do not jump at the chance for violence. You take the diplomatic route whenever possible, and leave none in your path when it is not.” You sat there in silence. This wasn’t a life that you had wanted. True, you had grown up learning alongside Brock in order to maintain the role of Rumlow’s Little Princess, but you hadn’t ever expected to be offered anything, much less control of the family.

“I . . . I don’t mean any disrespect, but what’s the other option?” Rumlow Senior crossed his arms. You knew that wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but still, he responded.

“If you don’t step into the role of Matriarch, there will be a target on you. Your safest choice would be to marry the head of another family. Your husband’s power would both protect you and benefit our family.” You chew on your lower lip and nod slowly. There was no leaving this life behind for you, not if you wanted to live past the age of 25.

“If I really do get a choice . . . I would rather the marriage.” You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. Rumlow Senior watches you, a pensive expression on his face. “You’ve been an amazing father to me, both before and after my mother’s . . . Passing . . . but this life. . . it isn’t for me. I don’t want any hand in the lifestyle that killed my mother.” You couldn’t stop the bite from sneaking into your voice during your last sentence. Rumlow Senior nodded slowly.

“As much as it pains me to admit, this life has not been kind to you. I’ll put out the notification to other families and see who we may ally ourselves with. You’ll always be a part of this family, Princess, even if you weren’t born into it.” He gave you a gentle smile. The old man had always treated you carefully and stated that your mother’s debt wasn’t yours to carry, but you’d overheard conversations behind closed doors. An arranged marriage had been in the cards for almost a decade now. You weren’t a part of the family, you were a business asset that he wanted to keep compliant. If nothing else, at least the marriage would get you out.

Several offers had been made. It seems the Romanoff Matriarch liked women, and the Pierce empire also put in a bid for his youngest son. The one that surprised you the most, however, was James Buchanan Barnes. His was a family made of people who didn’t have a home, jokingly called The Lost Boys by Brock and his lackeys. While he had no family power, he was indisputably powerful.

“So which one do you think, Princess? Any of these would make great allies for our family. That Romanoff girl is quite a catch, she’s got fire in her.” You put on your best business mask, looking over the files.

“Yeah . . . She is pretty great, but the Romanoffs only control most of the upper East side. We have the South, which is almost double the size of the upper East. The smartest choice is Barnes. His White Wolf family controls the North and the parts of the East that the Romanoffs don’t.” You close the folders and lay them on the desk. “First choice is Barnes, second choice is Romanoff, and third choice is Pierce. He’s always given me the creeps though.” Rumlow Senior smirked, impressed with your choices.

“Spoken like a true businesswoman. Let’s have a wedding!”

Within the next two months, you and Barnes were married.

“Please sit still?” You kept dabbing the medical wipe on his bloodied knuckles despite the mobster’s squirming. “I know it stings, but you did this to yourself. Besides, are you gonna sit here and tell me that you can punch a man multiple times, but you turn into a toddler when I have to clean a cut?” Barnes kept looking down, his face forever brooding. He didn’t answer, but did still his hand. “There. Was that so hard?” You busied yourself putting away the first aid kit.

“You aren’t comfortable around me, are you?” His statement caught you off guard and your head snapped up to look at him. His expression was relaxed. This wasn’t the kingpin that had just beat information out of a Pierce Empire lackey. He sighed, rolling his shoulders. “I don’t think a lot of people would be, especially witnessing what you just did . . . I’m sorry you had to see that.” You chew on your lip and Barnes continued. “I know you were raised with the Rumlows, and I guess I just assumed that you’d be used to seeing that sort of thing.” He paused, waiting for your response, but seemed genuinely taken aback when you started to giggle.

“You think I’ve been distant because of a little violence? James–”

“Bucky,” he interrupted. “Please, call me Bucky.” A soft smile breaks through your mask.

“Bucky,” you corrected. “I’ve done worse than that to Rumlow thugs when they failed to follow my father’s orders. I wasn’t shielded from any of it. In fact, I was even offered control of the Rumlow family. I turned it down. Given the choice, I’d rather not be the cause of violence, but violence doesn't bother me ”

“Then what does?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion, and you sit across from him on the tile floor

“About the beating or the relationship?”

“Uuhh . . . both, I guess?” You’d never heard Barnes sound so unsure. It was refreshing, even endearing to a degree.

“I’ve been treated like a bargaining chip since I was little. First, my mother, then my adoptive father on multiple occasions. Our marriage was just another business deal to him, and I didn’t think you’d want a clingy business deal. You get alliance with the Rumlows, and I get to keep my protection. I don’t see a reason to complicate things.” Bucky was quiet for a few moments.

“And the beating?”

“Oh, that one’s easy. It’s really hard for someone to give you information if you don’t give them a break in between blows to answer your questions. Seriously, that’s basically mafia 101.” Bucky burst out laughing at your cheeky response. People didn’t usually talk to him like that, they were all too afraid.

“I’ll give you that one, Doll,” he stated as he regained control of himself. He stared at you, taking in your every feature. After a few moments, you broke the silence.

“You’re thinking something, Bucky. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m thinking that I’d like to make this relationship a little more complicated . . . what about you?”

You had kept your own room, but from then on things with your new husband just seemed . . . easier. You spent most of that night talking about how you really came to be a part of the Rumlow family, and how you had opted for marriage because it was the closest thing to your own life that you’d ever have. In turn, Bucky began to open up about his past. How working for other groups had landed him with a metal left arm and a distrust of most people. How his time as a fixer had caused most people to fear him, and therefore avoid him. He didn’t really have friends outside of Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, and they both worked for him. You got the sense that he chose to have his marriage arranged because he thought it was easier than the alternative for someone like him.

“You know . . . you don’t have to be alone.” You had told him one night.

“And what do you mean by that, Doll?” He had questioned you, raising an eyebrow as he set down his bourbon glass.

“You say you’re alone because people are afraid, but that’s not completely true. You can’t fool me, Buck. I was raised with the potential to do the job you do. You aren’t alone because people are afraid, but because you don’t give them the opportunity to not be.” Bucky was quiet, but watched you with a fascination. You place your drink on the side table and lean forward. You’d come to enjoy the nights that you and Bucky would just sit and talk. It was a welcome escape from the monotony of everyday life and the drain of keeping up social appearances. Both of you were relieved when you could drop the masks and the roles that you were each expected to play and just exist with another person who didn’t judge you. Who didn’t hold any expectations apart from honesty. Your husband takes another sip, trying to hide the smile that played across his face.

“And what would you suggest I do instead, Sweetheart?” God you loved the intensity of his gaze, and as he ran his tongue over his lower lip, you decided that you were feeling brave. You stood, sauntering over to him. Bucky leaned back in his seat, setting his drink down and allowing you to lean over him, your lips brushing his neck.

“Ask.” That singular word whispered in his ear broke Bucky’s self control. His right hand flew to your neck, pulling your lips to his. You felt the cool metal of his left hand pressing into your thigh as he slid your skirt up, allowing you the mobility to straddle his lap. You press yourself against him as you whine, desperate for his touch. You didn’t sleep much that night, being pushed to the edge over and over and over, only to be brought back without release. Bucky loved watching you struggle. He loved your willingness to fight, and he wanted to watch as the fight drained from you and you submitted to his will. He knew you had been playing the roles expected of you your whole life so here, behind closed doors, he would earn your submission, not demand it. You would choose when you broke, but once you did? Bucky was going to ruin you, and he was going to savor every moment

After that night, you rarely slept in your own room. Your marriage was transactional, no one could deny that. Through the years, however, it had become so much more. You became one of the most powerful couples in the city, though you still kept your distance from the world of crime. Your diplomacy was unrivaled, but one night, that all came crashing down.

Your brother, Brock, had taken the role of Rumlow Patriarch when your father stepped down. For years, Brock’s temper had been controlled by your father’s background guidance. That all changed the night Rumlow Senior passed away. You attended the funeral, of course, but he passed suddenly. Bucky was out of town on a business trip and unable to make it back in time for the event. You passed along his condolences to Brock, but Brock took your husband’s absence extremely personally. Without the watchful eye of Rumlow Senior, Brock Rumlow’s true nature shone through. Brock was a loose cannon. His temper was unmatched, and his ego caused him to completely disregard the rules that every other family played by. For months after the funeral, the street thugs under your brother’s command ran rampant. They overstepped boundaries and lines of control held by other families as well as started fights wherever the opportunity arose. One night, they went too far. Three of Bucky’s new recruits had been carried back to the office after your brother’s thugs beat them almost to death. All they had done was refuse to leave the bar that they were already drinking at when the Rumlow thugs showed up, stating that the two groups could co-exist. These were just kids, barely old enough to even be IN the bar, and with six men versus the three kids, it was a massacre. Adding insult to injury? That bar was on White Wolf property and owned by Steve Rogers, one of Bucky’s right hands. Bucky had come home fuming that night. You talked him down from murdering your brother on the spot. You had no love for your brother, but murder would result in an all-out war. You spent the better part of the night with Bucky, Sam, and Steve readying yourselves for several outcomes. The following night, Bucky went to have a civil meeting with Brock, Mob Boss to Mob Boss about the behavior of his subordinates. Steve and Sam went on patrol hoping to stop another encounter, and you went to meet with Natasha Romanoff, the Matriarch of the Romanoff family. If this all went south, you would need an ally in order to take your brother in an all out war.

So that’s how you got here. Standing in your husband’s office surrounded by the aftermath of a ransacking. Your shoulders fell back and your chin lifted. If Brock wanted a fight, you’d give it to him. Brock may be the head of the Rumlow Family, but with Bucky currently indisposed, you were the head of White Wolf. Time to show him what his Little Sister was capable of when someone threatened her family. You headed straight to your room. If you were going to be acting as the White Wolf Matriarch, then you should look the part. You slide into your black business leggings. They look like skinny cut pants, but provide enough flexibility for you to move. A flowy black blouse pairs nicely, accompanied by several gold accessories. You favored rings and necklaces, but added a couple cuff bracelets for good measure. Your knee high riding boots with the steel toe inserts were pulled from your closet. Your winged liner was sharp enough to stab a man was accompanied by a dark lip and perfect brows. Finally, you swept your hair up into a sleek high ponytail. You take one look in the mirror, and your appearance plus the cold hearted look in your eyes made you smirk.

“The bitch is back,” you thought to yourself. You pulled a duffel bag out from under your bed. You hadn’t much from your mother, but you did keep her favorite set of knives. They were well known as the choice weapons for Lady Death, and that fear could serve your purposes. Strapping the wrist holsters to each wrist, you frowned. This blouse was nice, but it didn’t hide the knives well enough for your liking. . . You slipped several more into your boots as you heard Steve’s car pull up. You turned to rush out the door when you paused. One of Bucky’s black suit jackets was draped over the chair by your door. It was far too big for you to wear, but if you draped it over your shoulders . . . You tried it out in the mirror. It worked, hanging off your shoulders like a cape. The extra fabric also provided the cover to your wrists needed to conceal your wrist sheaths better. You grab your phone and head down the stairs to meet Steve.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think this is a good–”

“Well, then it’s a good thing your job isn’t thinking right now, Rogers.” The blatant interruption caught both men off guard. “You’re going to listen carefully because I’m only explaining this once. The story you’ve been fed about the Rumlows taking me in out of the goodness of their hearts is complete and utter bullshit. My mother worked off her debt to them, and I was kept as collateral. She taught me a lot of what she knew. I was raised as a Rumlow and was offered control of the Family because of my brother’s inability to control his temper or play by the rules. You can either do what I tell you, or you can explain to Mr. Barnes when we return why you didn’t accompany me. Are there any questions?” Whether it be the lack of emotion in your eyes or the ice in your voice, you didn’t know, but neither man argued. Wilson was the first one to speak up.

“ . . . Who’s your mom?” You look Sam dead in the eye, smirk, and with a flick of your wrist you impale one of the knives in your wrist sheath in the ground between his feet. Both Sam and Steve go pale with recognition.

“My mother was Lady Death.”

The Door to the interrogation room blew inward. C4 was such an amazing toy, you were so happy that Sam kept a stash. Hands in your pockets, you step over the twisted remains of the door, the dust settling at your feet. Immediately you hear the click of guns, but that only pulls a sadistic smirk to your face.

“Hello, boys. For those of you who don’t know who I am: look to your elders. For those of you who do: Run.” It was your brother's right hand and childhood friend, Justin, who spoke first.

“Y/N, didn’t expect to see you join the party.” He swaggered up to you, full of confidence that only an upper class white man could possess. He loomed over you, and you weren’t sure if he was trying to be sexy or intimidating. Neither was a good look on him. “What’s your problem, princess? Did we break up your little game of house?” You look up at the taller man, not budging an inch.

“Oh not at all, champ, I just thought I’d give you and your little friends a chance to play in the big leagues. Only three of them? Shouldn’t be much work.”

“Hey, Lady, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but –” Justin interrupts him before you have the chance.

“That’s Barnes’s wife, dumbass. She’s the Boss’s adopted sister, and the last person you wanna piss off.”

“She don’t seem so scary, all of her power comes from other people! Why should I–”

“You’d be well to listen to your superiors, or haven’t you learned that yet?” The ice in your voice stopped the newbie dead in his tracks. You stalk towards him, eyes fixed. “Let’s give you a family history lesson, hmm?” You had the undivided attention of all four of the Rumlow thugs. You just needed to keep it that way long enough for Steve and Sam to work into position. You stopped in the dead center of the room “ Justin, how many years ago was Lady Death’s final kill?”

“Uuhh . . . five years? Just before you married Barnes.”

“Good Boy,” you purred, working as much condescension into your voice as you could manage. “And how many years ago did my mother die?” As he did the mental math, Justin began to shift uncomfortably.

“ . . . Seven . . . no, Nine? Nine years ago . . .” As the dots started to connect, the realization began to show on each man’s face. Your smirk grew to a full-on sadistic smile.

“Let’s try this again, gentlemen. Whether or not you know who I am, it’s too late. I’m Lady Death.” The tension is palpable in the air as the newbies eye you, then the door, as if evaluating their chances, but your backup was already in position. From the rafters of the building, four shots rang out. You’d ordered Steve and Sam to aim to kill, but you hadn’t bothered to check their handiwork, simply stepping over the bodies and making your way towards the last door that stood between you and your brother.

The door creaked open, and your rubber soles thudded against the concrete with each step you took. No matter how hardened to violence you were, you had never cared about any of the people on the receiving end of your violence. No matter how hard you tried, nothing could have prepared for the sight that met you on the other side of that godforsaken door. Bucky was sat in a metal chair. His arms were tied behind his back, and a gag was stuffed in his mouth. His white dress shirt had been discarded, and his undershirt was torn. The bridge of his nose was cut, and someone had busted open his left cheek. Dried blood still caked his skin. The moment he saw you, his eyes filled with fury. He fought against his restraints, almost toppling the chair.

“Aaaah, Y/N, nice of you to join us! Can’t have a party without Daddy’s favorite kid,” Brock spat at you. You study your brother, willing your face back to neutrality.

“You know just as well as I do that that isn’t true, Brother mine.” If your calm demeanor threw Brock off guard, he didn’t show it.

“Well, Sister mine, your husband here had the audacity to tell me how to run my people, after refusing to even honor our father. Our father who spoke of him like the Golden Son just for marrying the whore who wormed her way into my life!” By the end of his statement, Brock was screaming. He took a moment and regained his composure.

“Do you really think that was a good move?” As you questioned Brock, you walked over to a spare folding chair. You let the jacket fall from your shoulders, draping it over the back of the chair.

“I can make whatever move I want. Dad may have taught you everything you know, but he taught me everything he knew. That’s the difference here, Wendy. That is what you are, aren’t you? The Wendy to his pathetic troupe of Lost Boys.” Locking eyes with him, your smirk returns.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Brock. Dad isn’t the only one who taught me things. My mother lived here too, remember?” Brock’s eyes narrow, tracking you as you slowly close the distance between you and him. “How do you explain the kills on Lady Death’s roster after my mother passed, hmm? Think about it.” You could see the gears turning in Brock’s thick skull before he shook his head.

“You lying bitch, you’re trying to play on my nerves. You turned down this job because you weren’t capable” You interrupt, starting to slide one of your knives from the wrist sheath into your hand.

“I turned that job down because I wasn’t interested. Never mistake my disinterest for being incapable.” You flick your wrist, your knife landing squarely in the meat of Brock’s shoulder.

He lunged at you, and the only thing you could focus on was the exchange of blows. He was a lot faster than you’d anticipated, and you were fairly evenly matched. You registered the pain of his blows connecting multiple times, but you pushed it down and attempted to return the favor. Suddenly, you felt his fist connect with the side of your face, then an arm wrapped around your waist. Brock spun, throwing you across the room. You hit the wall with a sickening smack, the wind being knocked from your lungs. Your brother slowly started stalking towards you. He was breathing heavily and wiped the blood from his upper lip as he walked, never taking his eyes off you. Brock grabbed your jaw, dragging you upwards, and you did the only thing you could think of. You slipped a knife out of your boot, and jammed it into him on your way up. Both you and him fell, Brock’s head hitting the ground with a sickening smack. You hauled yourself up, steadying yourself against the wall. You grabbed your brother by his hair, yanking his head up.

“You’re a fucking disgrace to this family and all that Dad stood for.” You paused, spitting out the blood that was pooling in your mouth.

“What the fuck happened??” You heard Sam shout as he and Steve finally caught up. You looked from your brother to Sam, steeling your gaze.

“Change in management,” you stated. “Send out a notice. Due to extremely reckless behavior that nearly started a war, Brock Rumlow has been removed as Patriarch of the Rumlow family. Its territories and personnel will be merged into White Wolf. Any concerns can be taken up with Lady Death.”

You turn your attention to Bucky, picking up one of your discarded knives to cut the ropes and gag off of him.

“Doll, that has got to be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.” Your satisfaction definitely showed on your face. After taking a moment to catch your breath, you pick the discarded suit jacket off the back of the folding chair and hand it to Bucky, leaning on him for support. Bucky pauses, glancing between Steve and Rumlow.

“Bring him back to the office. We’re not going to be done talking for a very long time.”

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