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#sounds like bourbon
xsister-serpent · 10 months ago
Sssoo was no one going to tell me freakin bourbon neat was back ooorr???
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fantabulisticity · a year ago
Y'all. So, I'm watching this video of Brendon Urie reacting to a vocal coach on YouTube (Tristan Paredes) react to a mix of some of Brendon's live performances. And Tristan mentions that as Brendon's gotten older, he's tended toward darker tones, especially when hitting high notes -- and I've noticed that too, that he loves the dark tones nowadays.
And fucking.
Brendon said he didn't know what that means, that he didn't know what a darker tone was, and I'm like...
Babe. You've been performing professionally for HOW many years now? 'Cause, like, yeah, my mom's a choir teacher and a voice teacher and shit but like. I've known dark vs bright for YEARS and you're like 40 and don't know it? I'm just. How. He's a professional. Maybe he'd heard about it before and just forgot? I dunno. I was also commenting aloud along with the video, noticing many of the same things Tristan noticed 😅
#i also watched another video of a different vocal coach reacting to the same mix of live performances#and brendon was right she was very nice about it but like i def heard some times when he messed up and he commented on those#one of the times it sounded like he had been smoking or drinking and she was like 'your head is facing down and that's why your voice...#...sounds strained and weird' and i was like 'oh honey no it's smoking or drinking; something hard on the throat' and then he was like...#... 'yeah no i was drinking bourbon while i was singing that day' and i was like YEAH OKAY THAT SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT#so she must not drink or smoke lol because as soon as i heard that video i was like 'heyyyyy that soundslike liquor voice' and it WAS...#... and she was so astute she should have caught that which makes me think she isn't familiar with liquor voice.#anyway#i'm just musing#i like listening to music shit#i need to get back into music theory and actually training my voice instead of belting kesha in the kitchen#lol#personal#he also mentions how he HATES watching himself perform/sing and it is SO VALIDATING to hear a professional say that 😭😭😭#esp when he's talking about how he was nervous for a certain gig and how he remembers being nervous and he hates seeing himself singing...#...and i just. it's so relateable and so validating. not like in a 'i also make millions of dollars being an international treasure' way...#...but in a 'i also hate seeing video/audio of me singing and can hear EVERY mistake and it's so UGH and some days I'm so nervous to...#...sing in front of people even though I've done it a million times' kind of way
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angrythingstarlight · 8 months ago
Tell Me What You Want
Summary: Your mob boyfriend, is none other than Steve Rogers and he is willing to get you whatever you wanted, all you have to do is ask.  And be careful what you ask for because he’s going to give it to you over and over again.
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𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Mafia!Steve x Reader, Mafia!Bucky x Reader
𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 3.5K
𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Smut, exhibitionism, voyeurism, hint of breeding kink, public sex, choking, creampie, oral (m receiving), spanking. power kink, violence (not towards reader). Minors DNI
𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘢’𝘥 by the incredibly talented @whisperlullaby​ but 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯
A/N: Requested. 
𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵)
Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories.  
Check out my Masterlist and Taglist! Requests are closed
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Sometimes you get a thought in your head.
And you can’t let it go. 
It simmers there, lurking beneath the surface, a song playing on a loop in the back of your mind. And it won’t stop repeating itself until the urge to act on it consumes. And as you sit on Steve’s lap, watching him talk on the phone, vaguely speaking about some business dealing of his.. You know a few things. 
You have to act on it. 
You want to. 
You need to. 
You will. 
And you may not survive the consequences. 
But when you look over at his large tattooed hand curving around his phone, an image of his hand around your throat flashes behind your eyes and you know you don’t care. In fact, if all goes well, you shouldn’t be walking straight for a week. 
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Your boyfriend is none other than Steven Grant Rogers, head of the Rogers crime family. He took over for the syndicate when he was 16 and has been ruthlessly expanding his empire ever since. He, not only exudes power, he wields it with a firm hand. 
Not that you would know. 
You’ve only seen the softer side of the infamous mobster. His various crimes and nefarious dealings are mere rumors he gently ordered you to ignore. It’s hard to picture him using brute force when he touches you so softly. Always so careful with you. Taking his time with you, his love-making is sensual, slow, and passionate. 
So gentle.
Everything was perfect and you were more than satisfied. 
Until yesterday. 
When you finally saw the other side of your man, the Steve that made grown men flinch when he raised his voice, it awakened a primal need in you. You got a glimpse of the mobster that controls the entire eastern side of the country with his best friend Bucky and you craved more. More of him, like that. Ruthless, violent, and enraged. Masculine. Powerful. Sexy.
 It had been a quiet day at home with Steve, he was about to join you upstairs when he received a call. Giving him a kiss on his bearded cheek, you bounded up the staircase to get ready for the night. 
After a long hot shower, you had dried off and applied your nightly routine. Part of you disappointed he hadn't joined you in the shower, you figured it had to be an important call keeping him away from you. 
You turned off the lights, a soft glow filling the room, murky blues and faded pinks slipping through the spaces in the curtains. You pulled a red silk robe over your body and waited on the luxuriously soft bed. When the soft glow turned to a dusky black, you sat up, curious because he normally would have joined you by now or at least had one of his henchmen tell you he was going to be a while. 
"Steve," you called out. Your voice echoing down the empty hall.  Turning to the open door, you waited but didn’t hear a response.  After a few more minutes of restlessly fidgeting on the bed, you stand up and wander down the stairs. Calling out his name again, more silence. The slow tick of the antique grandfather clock in the living room is all you hear on the lower level. 
Strange. There’s usually at least three guards in the house at all times, yet you’re all alone. 
You pace down another hallway, stumbling to a stop when you hear a strange sound. You hold your breath, waiting to hear it again. Seconds later you hear something, it sounds like a dull thud, then another and another. You follow it until you realize its coming from his office, the thuds followed by low groans. Turning on your heel, you walk to his door, as you're about to knock, when you hear another another grunt. 
And then Steve muttering "-disrespectful piece of shit-"
You take a step back, placing your hand on your chest, listening to more muffled wet grunts between sharp threats. Even through the thick mahogany door, Steve sounds furious and agitated. You've never heard his deep voice thick with rage. This is side of your man, he never lets you see. You know you should walk away but you can’t. 
When he yells again, you can almost feel his deep timbre in your belly, heat unfurling with every muttered curse. You can barely stand it, the way he sounds, nearly feral but still in control. Your stomach tenses at the brief pulsating throb in your pussy when he shouts again. His voice is deep and commanding. He's never sounded sexier.
Needing to see him, you put your hand on the golden doorknob and turn it slowly. Opening it a crack, you peek into the room, clasping your hand over your mouth to stifle your gasp. 
Steve looks magnificent, his dirty blonde locks tousled, his bare tattooed chest splattered with a streak of dried crimson. One black suspender hanging off his broad shoulder,  his tailored navy blue slacks curved around his ass. 
He cards a ringed hand through his hair. "I should be with my girl instead of dealing with this shit," he sighs. Grabbing his glass of bourbon off his desk, he rolls his shoulders back.  Tossing it back, he sets the empty glass back down. 
There’s a heavy silence as he contemplates quietly. You’re practically dripping at this point, when he sneers, his pink lips pulled tight you imagine him bending you over his desk, making you look at him in the mirror while he slams into you. Shaking your head, you listen when he starts speaking again. 
"If you ever come to my home again, I will go to yours and burn it down with you in it,” he warns, He walks over to a chair, you crane your head to follow him, his fist snaps out punching a man across his face with a dull thud. Why do you like that? 
"Understand?" He inquires coldly, shaking the man's head back and forth. It's condensing and you love it. He's so intimidating and in control. Effortlessly turning you on, your thighs clenching so hard they're shaking. 
"Get him out of my sight," he sneers, wiping his hand off on the man's blood-stained shirt.
You step back, closing the door as carefully as you can. Suddenly remembering that he would lose his shit if he knew you saw this.  Before you can flee, the door is opened and you find yourself face to face with Clint. You smile meekly, wincing when he curses, an exasperated fuck me under his breath.
"Boss, your girl is here," 
Steve's places his hand in his pocket, pushing past Clint, he leans on the doorframe, one long leg crossed over the other, "sweetheart" he hums, looking down at you. 
You smile brightly, placing your hands behind your back. "Hi," you chirp, your eyes flickering between his muscular chest and his eyes. 
He runs his large hand down his face with a deep sigh, his chest rising and falling slowly. "Explain yourself." His words slow and deliberate, making sure to keep his tone even, not wanting to scare you. 
You take a step forward placing your hand on his abdomen, he looks down, his blue eyes moving up to your face, his gaze softening when you shrug, "I missed you."
Another deep sigh. He takes your hand, kissing each knuckle, "go back upstairs, I’m going to get cleaned up and you're going to pretend you didn't see or hear anything-” he turns your hand, kissing your palm, before tilting his head down, “understand.” 
It's not a question. You like that, his firm command. Your eyes flit past his shoulder to the man being dragged out of the chair and back to Steve’s calm blue eyes. 
You nod shakily, yelping when he pats your ass, "now."
You practically run up the stairs to your room and flop on the bed, your robe fluttering open as you bounce on the mattress. You spread your legs, the cool air making you aware of how wet your panties are. 
You place your hand on your chest, his voice is in your head, closing your eyes, you see his deep blue eyes dark with rage, the veins in his neck prominent, his chest flushed. Your hand slides down your belly to your pussy.
Steve finds you like that, he heard your soft needy pants before he reached the room. His full pink lips twist up into a smirk as he sheds his clothing. You open your eyes when you feel the bed dip down, he takes your hand, holding it up to stare at your glistening fingers, “couldn’t wait for me, sweetheart,” he chides teasingly. 
He sucks your index finger in his mouth, pulling it out with a soft plop, “god you taste good” he groans, “tell me, sweetheart, you want to finish yourself or would you rather have my tongue?” 
"Tongue, please."
He crawls down your body, twisting your panties in his hand, "all yours sweetheart," he murmurs into your velvety folds.
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All you can think about is the way he looked in his office, granted you don’t want his anger directed at you, but you want his aggression. You want him to manhandle you and take you until you can’t move. 
Over the next few days, you tried to prick his anger, hoping for rough, angry sex. Each attempt met with quiet amusement, he simply patted your ass or kissed the crown of your head. No matter what you did, he gave his signature adoring look and treated you no different than before. .
You can’t be sure but he’s somehow even more gentle with you, his caresses feather-light, last night his strokes moved in and out of you so leisurely, you swore you were being edged. 
So you decided to up the ante. You're going to get fucked one way or the other. 
This morning, you rudely interrupted an international arms deal. Barging in his conference room, demanding his attention, you were confident this would get you what you wanted. 
He stopped mid sentence, his blue eyes darkened, rage blooming beneath the surface. Every man around the large mahogany table was scared for you. 
For a second you were scared for you.
And you liked it.
 But then his eyes cleared and he gave you a wide smile. "Hi, sweetheart, I'm glad you could join us," he said sweetly. 
He patted his knee with his ringed hand and made you sit on his lap. You felt small and foolish when he kissed your lips, asking if everything was okay, what could he do to make you feel better?
How could you say what you really wanted?  Ravish me, spank me until I beg for you to stop, make me choke on your cock till I gag and cry.
Instead, you mumbled out an apology into his shoulder, taking a deep whiff of his Armani cologne. He resumed the meeting, his knowing eyes gazing at your face tucked into his neck. You didn't know it but you almost had him. He carefully shifted you away from his erection, it took all of his willpower to not fuck over the table while making his men watch. 
No, he wants to see how far you'll go. 
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Later that night, he brought you to one of his clubs, a small venue on the east side of town. He mentioned that he had a late meeting with Bucky and didn’t want to be without you for that long.  The private lounge shielded you from the rest of the crowd, you and Steve shared a drink while he listened to you talk about your day. You kept thinking about how he looked at you across the table earlier, like he was going to ruin you and god you want it so bad, you were so sure that was going to work. 
After a while, you excused yourself, needing an excuse to calm yourself down. Between him sitting beside you, legs spread wide with his shirt tight around his chest, ordering people around looking every bit the mob boss you love, you can’t focus. 
You were coming back from the bathroom when two hands grabbed your waist. You spin around at the ‘Hey baby, wanna dance,” drunkenly spewed in your direction. You chuckle dismissively at the man swaying in front of you. 
You’re seconds away from telling the stranger off when you feel a heated gaze on the back of your neck. Glancing over your shoulder, your breath hitches and your stomach plummets.
Steve is glaring down at you from his private lounge. 
Oh, there it is. The spark behind his crystal blues eyes. Similar to early this morning and just like before, you want more. 
Steve knows what you’ve been doing all week, he’s been waiting for you to ask him for what you want.
 He can’t lie, he enjoys making you squirm, the fact that you’re turned on by his aggression is intriguing, he can’t wait to see what else is hiding in your devious mind. 
Your attempts to rile him up have been downright adorable, you have no idea what it takes to enrage him.  
In fact, there is only one thing you can do to upset him and right now you’re dangerously close to doing it. He looks down at you, his hand on the rail. “Don’t.”
He recognizes that mischievous glint in your eyes and his hand tightens around the metal bar. Steve isn’t jealous, no that implies you don’t belong to him. He’s possessive. You belong to him body and soul. It’s only fair considering you hold his heart in the palm of your hand. However, he will fuck that brattiness right out of you.
You bite your bottom lip, giving him a demure look. Then you turn to the redhead with a smile and take his hand, letting him pull you onto the dance floor.
Watching someone else put his hands on you, grinding against your delectable body stirs a deep-seated rage in him. He thought he made it clear to you and the world that no one was supposed to touch you. Only his hands get the pleasure of being on you. 
You wanted aggressive Steve, sweetheart, you’re going to get him. Every last inch, you're going to feel him for days. 
Steve cuts through the crowd, the drunken revelers parting for him until he reaches you. The red-head whisked away before you could blink. “Hey, Ste-,"
He wraps his hand around your throat, the cold metal of his rings pressing into the sides of your neck, he turns you around so your back is against his chest. He squeezes until you gasp, your hands latching onto his wrist, “sweetheart, want to know a secret?” he casually asks.
His other hand traces your collarbone while turning your head to face the crowd ebbing around you. His hand slips under your black dress, rolling your nipple between his rough fingers, “I could bend you over and fuck you right here,” he whispers in your ear. His deep voice caressing your skin. Heat pools in your belly, sinking down to your core, 
“I can fuck you anywhere I want, however I want and no one could stop me” 
“Is that what you want?” He hums, “for me to make you scream my name in front of all these people.”
You swallow, whimpering when he kisses your shoulder, his fingers tugging your nipple. “Who do you belong to?," he demands, his lip pulled into a smirk, "Who owns this pussy?"
“You do” you breathe out, pressing your ass into his crotch moaning when his hand tightens around your throat.
He growls in your ear,  "louder." He pinches your nipple before rubbing his rings across your stiff peaks. Jolts of electricity shooting to your cunt, a deep ache forming with each tug and pinch.
“Steve, you do,” you hoarsely shout. Multiple eyes dart in your direction before looking away. No one wants to get caught staring at Steve's girl.
You’re the center of attention but only for him. The sheer power in that makes your knees weak and nearly buckle. 
Steve places his hand between your legs, "I gotcha, sweetheart," he purrs. His long fingers pushing your soaked thong to the side. "Fucking drenched for me, aren't you?" 
He makes you nod. Forcing your head back while his thumb presses down on your aching bud at the same time his middle finger dips into your core. 
The warmth of his long digit followed by his cool ring makes you squeak. "You're going to cum for me in front of all these people." He's taking you apart in the middle of crowd and fuck if you don't love it. The domination, his commanding presence is enough to make you cum.
He slides another finger in, twisting his wrist and curling his fingers until you shudder. The pads of his fingers hit your spongy spot over and over until you're crying out, "right there, Steve shit baby, don't stop."
Whenever someone stares a second too long, Steve nods at them and one his men removes them from the floor. 
You're in a daze of bliss so overwhelming you don't even notice. He's knuckle deep in your pussy, tracing his name over clit, tightening the knot forming in your belly. "Fuck, Steve," you moan. 
He hums, "that's it, your cum over all my fingers,  give it to me right fucking now." He presses down hard making you scream, the thin shrill sound cutting across the room, your hands digging into his wrists as you rock your hips back and forth. Pleasure spiraling higher and higher until you break. 
You're still in the midst of your high when he tosses you over his shoulder. His large hand smacking you with every languid step to his private lounge. "If you ever let anyone touch you again,  I'm putting you over the bar and spanking in front of the world." 
By the time he reaches his booth your ass is burning. You're on edge again. 
He throws you on the smooth leather seat, he steps in front of you, holding his hands on his hips. “Get me nice and wet," he orders. You shiver at the dark lust in his blue eyes.
"Yes, sir," your breathy compliance makes his cock twitch. 
You unsnap his trousers one button at a time, your mouth watering in anticipation.  When you reach into his boxers, he places your hands on his waist ordering you to not move.
He takes his cock out pumping his shaft slowly, he paints your lips with his precum. "Mmm, so beautiful," he murmurs, your eyes shine at the praise, "you're about to look even better," he says, thrusting into your open mouth.
Normally he eases into fucking your throat, gently working you up until you can take his thick cock all the down. But you wanted to be a brat so you get fucked like one. 
He's warm and heavy on your tongue. His rough thrusts into your wet mouth make you gag with every slide down your throat. "Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so pretty wrapped around my cock," he grunts. "I'm going to keep you full all night, 'M going to ruin that little pussy next." 
Taking your head, he fucks you even faster, the vulgar gagging even louder, tears run down your face. "This is what you wanted huh, sweetheart," he taunts wiping your face off, "you're going to remember who's in charge-"
Bucky strolls in with an amused grin "Steve," 
"Hey, Buck," he groans, "God damn" he spits out when you hollow your cheeks. 
Bucky waves at you before settling on the chair across from you, his long legs spread, taking a small sip of his whiskey. 
"So, you need me to come back, in what 30 seconds," he laughs.
Steve shoots him a glare, "fuck off, you got the Intel on Luciano?" 
Bucky pulls a file out of inner pocket, shrugging off his black suit jacket. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters, "hey doll, looking good" he winks at you. He rolls up his sleeves, revealing his tattooed forearms. 
Steve gazes lovingly down at you, "she's beautiful," he pulls his cock out of your mouth, grinning at your whine, "but she's been naughty tonight," 
Bucky leans forward, placing his elbow in his knee, "I heard," he chuckles as Steve bends you over the table, your hands planted firmly on the glass. He reaches out, grabbing your chin in his warm hand, "you know what happens to bad girls, don't you doll?" He teases, wiping your smeared lipstick off your mouth. 
You shake your head no. You keep your eyes on Bucky's slate blues, whimpering when you feel your legs kicked apart. "You're about to learn," he promises. 
The sudden thrust pushes you forward, your nose pressing into Bucky's. Another deep rough thrust makes you mewl. Incredible, intense bursts of pleasure punching through you, soft keens of don't stop fall from your open mouth. 
Each deep stroke harder, faster than the last until he's fucking you senseless. Loud, salacious sounds of skin slapping echo through the thin curtain separating you from the rest of the club. 
Your hot wet walls flutter around Steve's cock, taking each hard inch into your core. "Oh fuck," you gasp into Bucky's mouth. 
Steve groans above you, his hand slapping your ass. The sting makes you clamp down on his length, "so tight, made just for me," he says, watching your cunt take his cock.
Bucky pulls your bottom lip down, "I don't know about that Stevie, bet that pussy would fit around my cock just right, bet I could make you gush over all me, doll" he smirks. 
Steve laughs when you clench down at Bucky's words, "you want that sweetheart, you ask nicely and you can have him too," 
"I do, Steve I-I, fuck," you sob out when his strokes go even deeper. 
"He's all yours, now tell Bucky, how you feel," he demands, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you into his thrusts. 
"Good, so good" you cry out. 
"Mmm, I don't know punk, not sure if I believe her," Bucky says, faux concern in tone as he playfully furrows his brows. 
Oh, fuck, please- your thoughts cut off when Steve puts his foot up on the table, opening you up in even more, his hips snapping into you, thrusts nearly making you collapse, your quivering body is only held up by his hands on your waist and Bucky's grip on your chin. 
"How do you feel now?"
"Oh fuck, I-god" you scream, your eyes rolling back. "Please, please, I can't take it," you sob trying to pull away from his relentless pace.
"Now that's better, you can take it doll, you're doing so good, taking his cock, doll," he praises, wiping off your face gently, "told Steve you could handle him,"
You shake your head. Begging with your eyes, unable to speak as the sensations overtake you. It's so good, too good.  You've never felt like this, you're not going to survive.
Bucky watches your face contort in pleasure, "Oh, doll he's still taking it easy on you," his eyes flicker over your shoulder. "I guess I'll have to teach you what happens when you disobey Steve," he says. 
You clench down at that sinful promise, another incredible wave of pleasure spiraling through you, "goddamn,- I think she wants that" Steve snickers, wiping his forehead off with the back of his hand. 
“Of course she does, look at me", he boasts, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. The tenderness from Bucky is a stark contrast from the rough pounding from Steve and it's enough to push you closer to the edge. "Oh, she's close Steve." 
"She’s gripping me so tight, fuck I can barely move," Steve groans appreciatively, "choke her for me, Bucky"
Your eyes widen when Bucky slides his hand down to your throat, "you want me to doll?" His eyes search yours, waiting until you nod before squeezing so hard you feel lightheaded. Steve winds his hand around to your clit and rubs your tender bud viscously, his thumb pressing small intricate circles that unravel the expanding coil.
Stars bloom behind your eyes, a dull roar in your ears as your orgasm sweeps through every nerve and fiber of your being. All you can feel is them on you, in you, sensations crashing into each other, higher and higher twisting through you.  
Nothing exists outside what they're giving you. And it's all you want, unable to take more but needing it. 
"Cum for me again sweetheart, give me one more," Steve rasps, pushing your back down, making your arch deepen. Your body tensing on command. The second orgasm unfurls before the first ends, you can only gasp Steve's name. He fucks you through another weaker climax until you go limp. 
Bucky supports you, peppering your face with kisses while Steve fills you with thick hot spurts of cum, filling you until it leaks around him. Steve pulls out watching his cum seep out of your cunt, he’s going to keep you like this, full of him until you’re nice and round. He can’t believe he held back thinking you couldn’t handle him, he underestimated you. Never again. 
. "I love you, sweetheart,"  he says, pride and love laced in his voice, warming you even more. 
"Love you, too," you mumble, giving him a lazily smile. 
Both men insist you don’t do anything else, not letting you get up, showering you with praises and handling you with such care you almost cry. They lay you in the booth, cleaning you up while you bask in the small aftershocks of your orgams. Steve makes you take a sip of water before you start to drift off to sleep. 
You hear papers rustling, "Buck, they think they can steal from me," he coldly laughs, "I want his head. Actually, bring him to me, I'll take care of him myself." 
"Can I watch?"
He exchanges a glance with an amused Bucky, "hell yeah sweetheart, you can do whatever you want."
Your smile drops when he tilts your head to face him, "but let another man besides this idiot touch you and I'll rail you so hard you won't be able to walk again." 
Bucky taps your ass, “I was going to do that anyway, trust me doll, I’m not nearly as gentle as Stevie here.” 
“Fuck you, Buc-” 
“Look, all I’m saying is she can still talk, when I’m done she’s going to--,” Bucky mimics raspy gasping. 
You look over to see the dark hair mobster biting his bottom lip, his deep blue eyes studying you, “Doll, I’ve waited a long time for you and I’m going to make sure you always remember me.” 
When he winks and Steve glares at the both of you, you know you’re in trouble but there are worse ways to go. 
Part 2 of this universe
8K notes · View notes
tokkiotears · 2 days ago
my type - pt. 1
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note: this is the first part of an idea i have planned so lemme know if y’all are interested in pt 2! part two here
pairing: druig x (f)reader
summary: during christmas vacation, you are always bugged by the other eternals to find someone to settle down with. when kingo walks in on you and druig in a compromising scene, druig find a way to stop the others from nagging you and maybe finally making you his.
warnings: fake dating, slow ish burn, not proofread!!
wc: 1.5k
Christmas. The Eternals favorite excuse to get together and spend a week wreaking havoc together. However, it was also their favorite time to pester you about your personal life. Mostly it was Sprite and Kingo - which you could handle, but lately, Thena and Ajak had joined in making small comments - suggesting that “maybe it’s time to find someone to settle down with”.
So here you all sat, spread around the several sofas in Sersi and Dane’s vacation home. Which was a massive contemporary space that glowed with the warmth from the fireplace and decorated tree.
In your hand was a glass of century-old wine, reduced to a few final sips. Your eyes grazed over the scene, shiny presents stuffed under the tree - Ajak, Gilgamesh, Thena, and Makkari all lounging on one couch, exchanging laughs and nearly spilling their drinks on one another. Kingo and Sprite sat on the floor, letting out exasperated comments as they battled each other in chess.
“Alright! Here we are,” Sersi entered the room, a large tray of snacks in her hands. Dane followed close behind, his hands occupied with additional bottles of wine. Before you know it, your glass has been topped off again and you’re sinking into the warm feeling of being tipsy. There is the faint sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor before you spot him, your forever crush as you call him.
Druig is wearing a pair of black trousers and a slightly oversized burgundy sweater. His hair was fluffed as if he had been running his hands through it. Balanced between his fingertips was the rim of a short glass of bourbon. The ice clinked around the glass as he approaches the loveseat you’re sitting on.
His eyes momentarily meet yours, the icy blue seeming to resonate in your chest. He nods his head towards you, both in acknowledgment and also asking for permission to sit next to you.
You scoot over to make room for him, folding yourself into the armrest with your wine. After so many years of crushing on him, you had refined yourself and become very composed in his presence. A.K.A. you could hide it well.
You glanced at him, his eyes on you as he sipped from his glass. Your lips pursed into a smile, “Hey, how you been?”
The others continued on in the background but your attention was now zeroed in on the dream of a man talking to you. He balanced the glass on the armrest, yet his fingers never left it. “Eh, the regular. I’ve been traveling more lately.”
You raised your eyebrows, “That sounds nice, I need to travel more.”
Druig leans his head back onto the couch, looking at you from the corners of his eyes, “It gets a little lonely, maybe you should join me. Like old times.”
Your skin heated at the thought. Old times. He was talking about when a few of you went to South America and got into some trouble. It was also the time that you and he were the closest - almost a thing. Or maybe that was your imagination. Your only response to him was a bashful smile, hidden with your glass of wine.
The night continued on, Druig stealthily sneaking glances at you while you laughed at Kingo. His leg seemed to drift towards you, the warmth radiating from his body and seeping into your own. The wine worked its way through your system, and sleep was slowly tempting you. You cradled your drink to your chest, letting your eyes rest for a moment.
The noise died down, the Eternals leaving to their rooms one by one. Stars had begun shining, sparkling the windows with twinkling lights. The crackling of the embers of the fire was what woke you, and caused you to spill your blood-red wine all over yourself. You groaned, thankful it didn’t get on the sofa.
“I see you’re awake now,” The voice next to you said. But when you sat up and came to - it was evident that you had also spilled the wine on what was your makeshift pillow:
“Oh, Gods…” You hastily set the now empty wine glass on the side table and begin trying to wipe the wine from his sweater. “I’m so sorry - I passed out - I didn’t realize on you though!”
Druig watched you amusedly. Mesmerized, he observed the way your hair swayed and your brows furrowed in frustration. After a few seconds, he gently captured your wrist in his hand. His smile was gleaming and soft, awakening the fluttering in your stomach. It had been so long since you had been this close. You had forgotten what it felt like to be touched by him.
“Y/N, it’s alright. We can just wash up,” The light chuckle that left his lips let you know that in fact, everything was okay. He wasn’t angry with your clumsiness. The living room was embraced in a soft silence, there was no one else here. Just you and Druig. He guided you to your feet and pulled you behind him. Your steps hardly made any noise, your fuzzy socks gliding against the hardwood floor. Having your hand in his felt nostalgic - the hazy memories of sneaky adventures flooding into your mind. Just friends, you remind yourself.
The room Druig is staying in is warm and cozy. Tall ceilings glowing with warm light and fluffed pillows adorning the bed. There is a bathroom that he brings you to, handing you a towel and leaving you to shower. The bathroom is equally as nice, and you make a mental note to ask Sersi who her interior designer was.
When you’re under the hot water, the memories don’t go away - they seem to replay in your mind like a scratched record. The half-hatched travel plans, the exhilarating cliff-diving, and people watching. You remember how he used to be affectionate to you, guide you through crowds with his hand at the small of your back, find flowers to give to you or put behind your ear.
A knock on the door causes you to flinch. Druig’s thick accent makes its way to your ears, “I’ve left a sweater here for you by the door.”
Turning the shower off, you step out and dry yourself, tying a makeshift wrap out of the towel. You open the door to pick up the sweater, “Thank you,” you look down at the sweater to realize you have no bottoms, “Do you have any shorts or, ya know… something?”
He turns to you from his position over his suitcase on the bed. His torso is bare, freckles are littered over his toned torso. His bangs were tousled, brushing over his dark brows. A slight pink tinge appeared on his cheeks before his hand extended with a pair of plaid boxers. “This is all I’ve got, sorry.”
There is a tension in the air, or at least you think there is. Maybe it’s just your feelings playing with you. You shake your head, “No - don’t be sorry. I’ll take what I can get.”
Druig smiles, but it fades quickly.
“Actually, Y/N, I wanted to talk to you,” He stepped towards you, the light accentuating all of his features. The curves and shadows of his muscles. Before you can speak, the door opens. There isn’t much you can think to do besides stand like a deer in headlights when you realize it’s Kingo in the doorway, looking quizzically at the pair of you. His brow raises.
“Now, Y/N when we said you needed to settle down we didn’t think you’d end up with him.”
“Oh, no - no. We aren’t together.” You wave your hand at your friend. Kingo scoffs.
“Mm you don’t really seem his type anyway,” Kingo says while crossing his arms. A look crosses Druig’s face but Kingo continues, “Anyways, I came to ask about tomorrow-“
“It’s okay love, you don’t have to lie anymore.” Druig interrupted. Huh? Lie about what? You clutch the towel and clothes close to your body, ready to retreat into the bathroom. “They can know, we’re together.”
You swear you could faint any second now. What did he just say?
Hah. You wished (literally).
However, like Kingo said you weren’t his type. You looked to Druig. There was a glint of mischief in his eye, he had to be planning something. Eventually, you gave up staring at him - he wasn’t going to give you an answer now. The way you gripped the clothes was with such power that you swore they should’ve ripped, but instead they didn’t. So, you turned to the bathroom and locked the door behind you, ready to change and eavesdrop on whatever the hell Druig had planned to say to Kingo next.
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kinanabinks · 5 months ago
What Bad Girls Get ✷ Mob Boss!Steve x Reader
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You’ve been a bad, bad girl. Time for your reckoning.
Content Warning: mob boss!steve x fem!reader, kind of dark!steve but not really?, smut (daddy!steve, sloppy blowjob, rough sex, degradation kink, dumbification ('dumb baby', 'stupid little girl'), spanking with a paddle, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, face slapping), aftercare, fluff, softdom!steve.
i do not use the term 'degradation kink' lightly. please do not read if you are easily offended.
Timidly, you push the large, heavy door open, slowly sticking your head through the gap. When you see that he's alone, a small smile grows on your lips.
"Is that my little bubble?" Steve asks with a small smirk, tilting his head. "Get over here, baby."
You do as he say, walking into the office and over to where he is sitting at his desk, nursing a glass of bourbon. Steve has been working all day, and you've missed him terribly, so you immediately climb onto his lap and wrap your arms around him.
He chuckles at your clinginess, stroking the back of your hair. "I missed you today, bubble."
"I missed you, too," You mumble, playing with the buttons on his shirt.
"You've been good today, haven't you?" Steve asks with a smile, cupping your face in his hand. "Finished your essay, and Mr. Barnes told me you even did some cleaning."
"Yeah," You reply with a shy grin. "I wanted to wash your bike for you, so it's nice and shiny when you take it out tomorrow."
"Aren't you sweet?" He mutters, giving you a soft kiss which leaves you aching for more. Pulling away, he strokes your cheek, his eyes locking onto yours. "So, you were a good girl today?"
"Yes, Sir," You reply instantly, nodding.
He raises a brow. "Didn't break any of daddy's rules?"
Your heart stammers, but you keep up your nonchalant expression. "No, Sir."
Steve runs his hand through your hair, sighing. "I heard you, bubble. Heard your pathetic little whimpers all the way from my office."
You say nothing, clutching onto his shirt as your eyes widen.
"You were playing with yourself, weren't you?" He asks softly. "Making yourself cum like a desperate slut."
"No," You whisper, shaking your head. "I- I wasn't."
Suddenly, he pulls on your hair, anger in his eyes. "And now you're lying to me about it?"
Knowing there's no way you'll convince him of your innocence, you give him the most regretful look you can muster. "I'm sorry, Sir."
He laughs darkly. "It's a little too late for your sorry, bubble. But I'm gonna give you exactly what you want."
"Y- you are?" You ask meekly.
"I am, baby," Steve utters, giving you a small smile which does little to soothe you. "You wanted to cum so badly earlier, didn't you?"
Remaining silent, you simply gaze up at him.
"Well, I'm going to help you, bub," He promises, before standing up with your legs around his waist. Steve carries you out of the office and to the bedroom, where he places you down on the bed. "Lay down, with your head over the edge," He commands, to which you immediately comply.
He stands behind you while you look up at him, anticipating his next order.
"Put your hand down your panties," Steve orders, his eyes scanning your body. "Rub that little pussy for me. Just like you were earlier."
With a deep breath, you slip your hand up your dress and past your underwear, before finding your throbbing clit and rubbing small, quick circles onto it.
"That's my girl," He mumbles, before the delicious sound of his belt buckle opening fills your ears. "I'm giving you what you want, but you gotta give daddy what he wants too, bub."
He takes out his hard cock and brings it to your lips, not bothering with letting you slowly adjust and instead pushing it into your mouth. When his tip hits the back of your throat, he begins fucking your face. Small whimpers escape around his cock as you continue playing with yourself.
"That's it, keep going," He says, letting out a groan. "Keep rubbing that pussy like the dirty whore you are. Get so wet just from sucking on daddy's cock, huh? Fucking choke on it, slut, that's a good girl."
Steve loves the sight of your drool spilling out your mouth and pouring up your cheeks, where it meets your tears. His precum mixes in with your saliva, coating your skin while you continue to gag on his big dick. You rub your clit faster, feeling your pleasure build up.
"Make yourself cum," He orders gravely, fucking your throat harder. "Now."
His gruff command pushes you to the edge and soon you're cumming all over your own fingers, whining onto his cock. You shudder a little, gasping when he pulls his cock out of your mouth.
"Good girl," He praises you, before his tone darkens. "Now, get on your fucking hands and knees."
Breathing heavily, you obey, letting out soft whimpers while you move. Steve, unhappy with how slow you're moving, grabs your legs and speeds up the process, forcing you onto your knees and pushing you down onto your hands.
"Been such a bad girl," He says, ripping off your dress to expose your body to him, before sliding your panties down. "Such a bad, bad girl today, bubble."
You whine at the feeling of his cock against your thigh. The sound of the bedside drawer opening sends a shiver down your spine. "D- daddy?"
He says nothing. A few seconds pass and you feel a harsh slap on your ass, making you squeal. The paddle sits in Steve's hand, and he twirls it around a few times with a smirk before serving you with another spank.
"Ah, daddy!" You cry out, pressing your face down to the mattress.
"I never said I wasn't going to punish you, bubble," He says teasingly, before his tone fills with pure anger, his voice loud and gruff. "This," Spank, "Is what," Spank, "Bad girls," Spank, "Get."
You're left a sobbing mess, your mind blank as the delicious pain drenches your body.
Steve throws the paddle to the floor, rubbing his hand over your sore ass. "Look at you, dripping fucking wet. You're such a dirty little slut, aren't you?"
You can barely get a coherent word out, your legs shaking.
He chuckles, bringing his cock to your entrance. Slowly, he sinks himself inside you, groaning at the feeling of your sopping cunt sucking in his shaft. "Fuck, baby," He whispers, his eyes fluttering shut. "So fucking tight for daddy."
Without warning, he begins pounding into you, making you cry out with each thrust. His cock stretches your pussy out, filling you up and hitting all your sweet spots. Tightly gripping your hips, Steve is sure to leave behind dark bruises, but the mark of his presence only acts as a proof of the passion you share with him, leaving you dazed for days as the memories of this session permanently etch onto your mind.
His cock slides in and out of you, stroking your walls and making you shudder. With his left hand creeping around your waist, Steve moves his fingers downwards and begins to rub harsh circles on your already sensitive clit, making you whine.
"You can take it," He growls harshly into your ear. "Don't act so fucking weak now, slut. This is what you crave."
Shockwaves are sent through your body as he drags out your second orgasm, making your cunt flutter around his cock as he groans.
"That's it," Steve says with a smirk, still pounding into you with no mercy. "This is how you cum. Around daddy's cock. Not when you're fucking alone, playing with yourself. Do you understand?"
"I- I understand," You reply weakly, shaking beneath him.
"I don't fucking think you do," He says gruffly, taking the paddle and striking your ass once more with it. "I don't think my dumb little girl understands, because if she did, she wouldn't have toyed with that pussy of mine without my permission."
"I'm sorry, daddy," You cry out, face rubbing against the duvet while your quivering cunt sucks him in. "I didn't mean to."
"You didn't mean to?" Steve repeats with a patronizing tone. "What a dumb fucking baby you are. You don't have any fucking control of yourself?"
"I'm sorry," You repeat with a whinier voice, tears filling your eyes. "I'll never do it again."
Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back, making you squeak. "You're damn fucking right, you won't," He seethes, dropping the paddle and freeing up his hand.
With your back flush against his front, Steve slaps your pussy, making you gasp. Your knee shoots up in an attempt to protect yourself, but he drags your leg backwards, keeping you open.
"Don't you fucking dare try and evade your punishment," He warns you gravely, making you freeze in fear. "Not after the fucking shit you pulled today, you stupid little girl."
A shaky whimper leaves your mouth before he unleashes his rage on you. Without warning, Steve continues to slap your pussy over and over, his rings hitting your clit as you cry out. Each slap sends a shoot of pain and pleasure through your body, and you're almost unable to breath. His cock still sits deep inside you, and he relishes in the feeling of your pussy throbbing around with him every slap he serves it.
Once your clit is left raw and pulsing, Steve immediately begins to rub it, hard. You scream out and grab onto his wrist in an attempt to make him stop, but he is relentless.
"This is what you fucking wanted," He says lowly, clamping his arm around your waist to keep you in place. "You wanted to cum. So, bubble, daddy's gonna make you cum."
"Please, Sir," You whine, your voice breaking with defeat. "I can't take anymore."
A dark chuckle leaves his throat and with his free hand, he slaps your face before roughly squeezing your cheeks. "Shut the fuck up. You'll take whatever your daddy fucking gives you, and you won't say a fucking thing. Know why?" He pulls you up by your throat, still rubbing your clit intensely as you convulse. "Because good girls don't talk back. Good girls don't fucking talk at all."
Wanting to be obedient and not to anger him any further, you say nothing and instead just whimper. With his fingers on your pussy, Steve forces out your third orgasm, fucking into you with his cock as he lets out a growl, feeling your cunt tighten around his cock.
"God," He groans, his eyes rolling back. His voice harmonizes with your weak cries as you come undone, your entire body feeling like it has been set alight. You fall forward, your chest slamming against the bed as shaky breaths leave your mouth. But Steve isn't done with you yet.
His hands grab your hips and you use what little strength you have to try and crawl away, letting out feeble whines on your way.
"Come on, now," Steve says darkly, a smirk on his lips. He plays along for a while, letting you inch away from him before he drags you backwards and plants himself right back inside your pussy, where he belongs. "You really think you can win, you stupid little slut?" His hands clamp on your hips and he pounds into you, harder than ever. "If you’re gonna act like such a greedy fucking whore, then you’re gonna take my cock like one."
Your mind is blank. You can process nothing but Steve, his words and his body, and his fat cock fucking you as though stopping would end the world.
"Has daddy fucked his slut stupid?" Steve teases, chuckling dryly. "That's right. Got you fucking cockdrunk, haven't I?"
A frail cry is your reply, your legs shaking as he fucks you deeper, hitting your g-spot.
"My cockdrunk little thing," He groans, slamming into you. "Dumb little cumslut."
You feel like you're floating on a cloud of utter pleasure, tinged with pain and humiliation. Wrapping his arm around your neck, Steve thrusts faster, chasing his own orgasm.
"One more," He demands into your ear. "Give daddy one more."
"Can't," You whimper, your nails digging into the bed.
"You can and you will," Steve states gravely, pulling on your hair. "You're gonna cum all over daddy's cock because he fucking told you to."
Your vision blurs as the tears spill over, choked moans leaving your mouth. Steve leans forward to lick up your tears, his tongue hot against your skin. He fucks you into the bed, the headboard squeaking against the wall. Your breathy whines dance along his animalistic grunts, the two of you writing a song of utter rapture that you know will get stuck in your head.
Steve pulls your head back before slapping your face, his lips at your ear. "Cum," He growls, his demand simple and not to be ignored. "Fucking cum for me now, slut." With another slap to your cheek, he lures out another orgasm from you, laughing cruelly at the way you have become so weak at his hand.
Your mind explodes with bliss as you squirt all over his cock, your vision whiting out for a few seconds as you try to process the sheer pleasure he brings you. With a few more pumps, Steve empties his load into you, cumming deep inside you and coating your walls with his seed. He falls forward, resting his weight on you as he thrusts a few last times, letting out groans into your ear.
"That's it," He moans. "Take every fucking drop of daddy's cum, like the good little whore you are. Daddy's fucking cumslut."
Both of you dwell in the pleasant silence that follows the downfall of your highs. A fluttering of relief overtakes you as your heartbeat relaxes, your mind still deep in submission. You feel Steve placing your head on the pillow but it takes a few minutes for you to re-enter reality.
Leaning over you, a small smile blossoms on his lips. "Hi, baby bubble," He whispers, stroking your cheek gently. "Back with me yet?"
Swallowing, you nod weakly.
"You okay?" Steve asks you, before placing a kiss to the tip of your nose.
"Yeah," You mumble, placing your hand on his warm chest. "I'm okay, daddy."
His smile grows and he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight. "You did so well for me tonight, bub."
"I did?" You ask with raised brows, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger.
"You absolutely did," Steve promises with his lips brushing against yours. "You always do so well for daddy. Always such a good girl."
A shy giggle leaves your mouth and you feel your heart warm. "I'm sorry I broke one of your rules, daddy."
"Shh," He soothes, before cupping your cheek and kissing you softly. "Just relax, baby."
You sigh with content as he pulls the covers over you and gently rubs your neck, where his hand left bruises. Soft kisses and sweet nothings lull you into a trance of peace, where nothing but Steve's unconditional care matters.
"Does anything hurt?" He asks you, slight concern in his eyes.
Though you feel sore all over, you know it'll wear off in a day or two. "No, daddy," You reply sweetly, offering him a smile. "I'm okay."
Steve looks at you with more adoration than the world could hold, and the intensity of his love for you almost does offset the balance of the universe. At least, that's how it feels to you. That's how it feels when his eyes burn into yours and you know, you know that he has never and will never again look at anyone else in that way. His love is branded with your emblem. It is so personalized and catered to you, that he couldn't even try to give it to someone else if he wanted to. It wouldn't fit them; it'd stretch too thin or pull too short. No, his love is too personalized. You're the only one it could ever latch onto.
"You are everything," He whispers against your lips, every syllable lighting up your heart. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, my baby."
Pulling him closer than he already is, you kiss him. "You're my favorite thing."
He chuckles at your words, placing a trail of kisses down your jawline until he reaches your ear. "And you, my baby bubble, are my favorite thing."
Lifting you up, he turns you over so you are lying on top of him. His hand trails down your body until he reaches your ass, which he gently massages. With his magic touch, he heals the pain, bringing light to every inch of your blessed skin.
"I love you," He vows, tenderly running a hand through your hair. "All of you, always, with all of me."
"All of you, always, with all of me," You repeat with a mumble, interlocking your fingers with his. "I love you."
Steve smiles widely and kisses you again before rolling you over so he can spoon you, delighting in your giggles. And he holds you tightly, all night, as though letting go would mean he could never hold you again. Because you're his good girl, always. Always.
Steve Rogers Masterlist
i no longer use a taglist, but if you would like to be notified of my works, follow @kinanabinksupdates​ and turn on notifications <3
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catharsisfire · 2 months ago
with the wildflowers (t.)
Bucky Barnes x Reader
When Steve leaves for Peggy, he sends back Bucky’s missing piece.
Warnings: mentions of smoking and drinking, some sexual implications, slight steve x reader if you squint hard enough
Gif is not mine
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“We’ll meet you back here?”
“You bet.”
“Going quantum in 3… 2… 1…”
There’s a haze of smoke in the air when Steve phases into the apartment, a heady blend of cigarettes and something frying on the stove, and for a moment he watches as the smoke claws its way out of the open window across the room. The sounds of Brooklyn’s streets float up and enter from below and he faintly hears the hum of a woman flowing out of the kitchen, almost drowned out by the sizzling and popping of oil on the stove, her light voice is keeping tune with the record playing in the living area, unaware of the other party now in her residence.
He takes great care in walking lightly, not wanting his steps to scare the woman inside before he can properly speak to her and explain why he’s here invading her privacy. Or better yet why he’s breaking and entering. And when he gets to the archway leading into the kitchen he pauses, taking in the scene of the young woman he hadn’t seen in ages, with a cigarette in one hand and a bourbon glass precariously balanced in the other, swaying slightly to the music in front of the stove, watching her food cook.
Against his better judgement Steve clears his throat in an attempt to garner the woman's attention, and it takes only a moment for the glass to fall out of her hand and crash to the floor and she spins around to see who made the noise, shock written on her face as she clutches at her chest.
“Damnit, Steve!” She lets out a scream, leaning forward and bracing her hands on her knees as she calms her breathing, “Didn’t your mom teach you to knock before coming into someone’s home? What the hell are you doing here?”
And it takes him a moment to register that he truly is there, standing in her kitchen, and a light laugh breaks through his smile as he walks over to where she’s standing, clicking the stove knobs off and stubbing out the cigarette in her hand.
“Seriously Steve, why are you here? And what are you wearing?” She stands there with a distraught disbelief written all over her face and her brows are drawn together deeply as she stares up at him, shaking her head. There’s a pause and her gaze stays on him for a moment too long and Steve is sure he can see the gears turning in her head as she mulls over the situation fully. And in a flash of movement she’s captured his face in between her hands, twisting and turning his head around as her eyes dash around him quizzically. “S.H.I.E.L.D said,” she pauses thinking of the right sentence to say, “they said your plane... crashed... years ago. How? How are you here?”
“Here put this on, [Y/n].” Steve slides the mechanical bracelet off of his wrist, slipping it over her hand gently until it rests firmly against the pulse point on her wrist. “I’ve got someone who’s going to explain everything to you.”
“Why can’t you explain anything to me now?” She stared with eyes heavy in disbelief, “Like how the hell you’re standing in my kitchen, when I was told by S.H.I.E.L.D that you died.” He watches as a pained look overtakes her eyes and she recoils in on herself, taking the argument inwards as she tries to piece broken conversations together and the misshapen meanings behind the words her superiors had told her. Her eyes leave his, downcast and darting as if she’s cycling through pages within her mind, skimming for an answer that isn’t there.
“Believe me, I think you’d rather hear it from someone else,” His voice is light and reassuring as he runs his thumb gently across the back of her hand, “Press this button when you’re ready and every question you could have will be answered, I promise.”
“Returning in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…”
There’s a click from the machine as Bruce’s finger flips the switch but the platform lays bare and empty still, with no sign of Steve. And there’s a sudden panic that grips the group, as they begin to wonder if the machine had broken or if possibly something worse had happened. In a fit of desperation Bruce hastily checks the screen again, pushing buttons and flipping switches with loose abandon, in hopes of fixing his possible blunder. Until the hum and static buzz sounds from the platform and a flash of blinding light sets off before them.
The figure that stands on the platform with their back turned to the group is far from the shape of Steve and it registers first to Sam, as he shouts out that Banner made a mistake and brought back the wrong person, or at least perhaps the wrong version of Steve. The commotion causes the figure to whip around, the quantum suit dissipating away as the bracelet is ripped off their wrist and dropped to the platform from red tipped fingers.
For a moment they stare at each other, the group gazes suspiciously at the woman on the platform, clad in 1940’s clothing and she stares wide eyed and horrified at the first place her eyes landed when she’d spun around, sight trained on Banner. Her chest rises and falls with mortified fervor and she seems frozen in fear, only moving to stumble back lightly, creating a makeshift distance that truly didn’t matter anyways.
Sam is quick to pick up on the tense atmosphere and when he looks over to ask Bucky what the hell was going on, he registers the expression on his face all too quickly. He looked like he’d seen a damn ghost. And his gaze darts back quickly to the platform where the woman stands paralyzed with fear.
“Uhm, hey, who are you? Where’s Steve?” The question is calm and easy. Sam’s voice had taken on a smooth, gentle tone to call her attention over to him, not wanting to possibly frighten her any further.
She snaps her head quickly over to follow his voice and she skims his face for barely a second before she immediately drags her gaze over to where Bucky stands beside him. Her reaction is instant, a hitch in her breath and a softening of her face. She looked absolutely astonished. Absolutely in love. And moments pass as the pair stare at each other, neither moving nor speaking, just drowning in the feeling of being within the others presence once again. She moves first, slowly making her way to the edge of the platform and Bucky is not far behind, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, until they stop mere inches from the other and she’s gazing down at him.
“What was I wearing the last time…” She wants to finish her sentence, wants to ask him if he remembers her as she remembers him the last time the two had seen each other. Because she remembers every detail of him from that night, remembers how the light of the moon came through the window and danced off the soft angles of his face and how deftly his hands roamed her body. Remembers feeling the stuttering of his heart beneath her hands as she stared down at him. Remembers the reverent way his eyes gazed into her own as he told her he’d loved her.
And Sam watches them from beside Banner, watches as her hands twitch at her side, yearning to find themselves within Bucky’s again but she’s restrained herself, even as she stares down at Bucky like she’s ready to give up the world to hold him.
“That little dress with the wildflowers on it,” his voice is rugged, palpable with emotion and fervorous admiration, “you know the one, Doll.” It’s a teasing addition, a nod to their last night and the meanings wrapped within the fabric of a long gone dress.
“What was the last thing Bucky said to me before he left.” Her hands raise slowly until they are holding the sides of his face gently, thumbs dragging slowly over his lips as she stares down into his eyes. Her face is soft, overflowing with emotion and tears begin to gather in her eyes. And she wants to blink them away, wants them to be gone so she can see him without the blurry filter of water blocking him, just in case this is some sick joke and he’ll disappear from her sight if she doesn’t look close enough, long enough.
“I believe I told you not to wait around for me.” And he reaches up to grab her left hand from its place on his face and he thumbs over the empty spot on her ring finger. “I can see you didn’t keep that promise.” He’s joking, she knows it, his smile is too gentle and easy to be angry with her, but it still hits in a place deep within her heart to remember his words and the guilt of it washes over her face.
“Who could possibly come after the James Buchanan Barnes?” Her retort comes in the form of a watery laugh as she twists her hand that he holds until she’s interlocked their fingers. Her other hand is still resting on his face, only moving to his jaw to tilt his head back more as she tries to take in the appearance of him more, but her tears just begin to drip down onto his face, hitting his cheeks and rolling down when she rests her forehead against his. The two of them move together like magnets, pushing and pulling together, following the others movements as if innumerable time and trials had not passed between them. As if they were as they had always been so many years ago.
“Where have you been all this time, my love?” Her voice is quiet, low and only for him as her lips trace his with her words.
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asssikawa · a month ago
Wanna Get Drunk and Nasty?
hehe, crossposted from my ao3! this is an 18+ toji x reader
word count: 2.9k
cw: alcohol usage, infidelity, body shots
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Endless days at the office took up all the time you thought you had for yourself. Standing next to him, following him, reminding him of the never-ending business meetings that were crammed into his schedule. He always scowled at the reminder, but always softened his delivery with a “thank you, darling,” or any sort of those pet names. Your personal favorite was doll or darling, it sent flutters in your heart and lower bits. You felt bad for your raven haired boss as you both stayed in the office overtime when the moon stays at its highest point of the night, almost every night. Filling out paperwork and filing took up the overtime hours; your boss, by the time midnight struck, his tie was already loosened while his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His arms looked amazing, his veins became more prominent while he gripped his fountain pen. You could salivate at the sight of your disheveled-looking boss. Your eyes would travel up his arms and up to his hand, wondering how you’d look under him, his hand wrapped around your neck.
However, the moon would always illuminate the silver band around his ring finger in the midst of your lustful thoughts. It shined bright under the light, reflecting light onto your murkied thoughts, reminding you he is indeed a married man. You couldn’t help but feel guilty, knowing how badly you wanted your boss to be yours, but alas, he’s a married man with a family. “Mr. Fushiguro, these are the last of the documents,” you said in a small voice, when his sharp feline eyes gazed up at you from his work. His stoic expression morphed into a curt smile, taking the folder from your grasp.
“Thank you, darling. You should head off now, your partner is probably worried with how long you stay here,” Toji said, opening up the pale yellow folder. Looking down at your hands, heat rose to your cheeks.
“I don't really have someone waiting for me at home, I’m single, sir,” you responded, a bit flustered. Who wouldn’t be embarrassed to admit to their boss that you’re single as fuck? He let out a breath, before giving you an apologetic gaze. “I could say the same about you sir, you should probably head home. Your wife is waiting for you at home, we can continue filing later on, you don’t have anything on your schedule.”
“We don’t have any meetings? Thank fuck, I was getting tired of that old man,” He groaned, pausing while twiddling with that glimmering ring. The one you wished that he wore for you. “I mean, I suppose I do,” he continued, his voice void of any particular emotion. His eyes shifted towards the bottle of bourbon collecting dust at the corner of his office before his gaze flicked back to you, the moonlight seemed to make his eyes glow in the dark room. “Do you want to be a dear and bring me that bourbon? It’s been collecting dust since god knows when.” You nodded at his request, bringing back the beautifully decorated glass tray that held the bottle and several shot glasses lined with gold paint. Every step you took, you felt like shrinking back further and further. You nearly drowned in the intensity of his stare, withering inside your lust-ridden thoughts. Before Toji even asked, you opened the bottle, the sound of the stopper clinging against the glass made you cringe. Taking one of the shot glasses, you poured the bourbon, still feeling Toji’s predatory gaze on your body. His larger hand engulfed your much smaller ones, guiding the glass towards his mouth whilst still in your grasp.
Looking down at him, your heart skipped a beat watching your boss drink from your hands, his eyes staring directly up at you. A gush of wetness soaked your panties at his expression. He pulled away when he finished the shot. “I’m surprised you’re single, dollface. You follow orders so well, listen well. Gorgeous face, gorgeous body; truly a sight for sore eyes,” He commented, his eyes still dead set on your figure. You flushed at the comment, shifting your legs to alleviate the throbbing heat in between your legs. It was damn near painful to know you couldn’t get what you wanted. You sat on the corner of the dark wood desk, pressing your soaked pussy against the cool corner. A bit of pleasure shot through your veins upon secretly grinding against the corner. Toji’s usual nonchalant expression was a bit flushed, watching your movement, every hitch of your breath. Gazing back at your boss and the empty glass twiddling in his thick fingers, your hand trotted towards his glass. He quirked a thin eyebrow at your actions as you took the glass from him, filling it up with bourbon. You took a swing, feeling the hot liquid burn your throat as it slid down into your stomach. Your eyes locked on him as you finished the shot, setting it down back in front of Toji. A smirk split on his face, rolling his seat out a bit, patting his lap.
Perhaps alcohol made you too bold. Filling the glass with bourbon once more, your pumps clicked against the floors, walking towards Toji. You made yourself comfortable on his thick muscular thighs. You felt every dip and crease of his thigh despite the layers of clothes you two had on. Offering the glass to Toji once more, he drank the shot from your hand, a low groan gurgled in the back of his throat. “Am I doing good, Mr. Fushiguro?” You said, your voice feigning innocence. He looked down at you, his heavy hand gripping your thigh.
“So fucking good,” He growled out as you pushed your ass closer to his crouch, feeling his slightly hardened bulge grow. His body was pressed against your smaller body. You never realized how large he was against you, you never felt so small. Your heartbeat pulsated in more than one area, his hardening bulge pressing your plump ass. His rather large hand squeezed your plush thighs, slightly grinding your ass against his hardened dick.
“You’re not concerned at all that you’re doing this with your married boss?” He whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending tingles down your body, whimpering followed suit as your sensitive clit cried out for more stimulation. His grip on your thighs tightened as the sound of your skin tone pantyhose ripping echoed in the room, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear.
“I see how you stare, darling,” he empathized with the word darling, his hands traveling up to your waist. He picked you up, settling your body on the desk in front of you. Your back laid flat against the papers the two of you have been working on for hours. A yelp left your mouth as Toji forcibly spread your legs, pitifully looking at your boss, your eyes glossing in lust. “You don’t give a fuck about my marriage, always eyefucking me like that. I bet deep down you want to be my little fucktoy, hm?”
“I did care, if I didn’t I would have fucked you much sooner.” you replied, resting your legs on Toji’s broad shoulders. A lazy smirk spread across your face. “And what about you sir? It takes two to tango.” Another yelp spilled from your glossed lips upon feeling Toji’s heavy hand smack down on your clothed clit.
“You were doing so well, what happened with that mouth of yours?” Toji said mockingly, pressing his thumb against your sensitive nub. A wordless breath left your mouth, rolling your hips slightly to help with the unadulterated lust soaking through your panties. He let out a low whistle while pulling his hand away from your cunt; his thumb slightly damp. “God, you’re fucking soaked,” he muttered to himself, before licking his thumb from your juices. Your hands fumbled with the zipper on the side of your fitting pencil skirt, stopping in tracks upon seeing Toji’s menacing gaze. “Don’t. Keep them on, you don’t know what damned things this skirt does to me,” he said, pushing the skirt up to your belly, revealing the thin fabric of your pantyhose that barely covered your white lacy panties. Another rip captured your attention, a gust of cold air tickling at your pussy. Your lips desperately clung onto the panties’ damp moisture, outlining the shape of your cunt. With fluttering lashes, you looked at your boss, his expression looked much similarly to a hunger-stricken animal. It took him a while to bunch your underwear to the side, admiring the view of your wet, clenching pussy. A wave of insecurity washed over you, nearly making you close your legs.
“Mr. Fushi- ah!” Abruptly, his finger slid into you, burying itself in your plush walls. Heavy breaths came from you as Toji continued his ministrations. It was so hot, the temperature in your body and the room seemed to increase as beads of sweat on Toji’s forehead started to glisten under the moonlight. You could hear every lewd squelch, accompanied by Toji’s heightened breathing. He added another finger, a finger with a cool object wrapped around it that always stopped at the entrance of your slit; his wedding band. “Sir- please,” you managed to squeeze out, balling your hands on your blouse as a futile attempt to grip onto something.
“Say it again.” He rasped out, he felt your walls tightened a bit at the command. His voice was so low and riddled in hunger, it made your walls flutter.
“Sir,” you moaned out, rolling your hips with his fingering. The tips of his thick fingers brushed against your sweet spot, your hips jerking up followed by a pitchy moan. Dipping his head down, Toji can feel the heat radiating off of you. His nose brushed against your clit, before latching his mouth onto your nub. Your legs began to shake as pleasure and a lack of air built up in your being, as Toji’s tongue wrote his name on your clit, his fingers prodding at your g-spot. Toji nearly salivated at the taste of your cunt, a low moan gurgled in his throat. The vibrations of his moan sent you over the edge, the air left your lungs as you arched your back. You came in a heated rush, collapsing on the chilled desktop, electricity washing through every inch of your body. The coldness from the desk sent goosebumps across your feverish body. Heavy breaths heaved from your body, as Toji pulled away, his hands glistened in your juice. His chin dripped, his pupils were blown out. His gaze shifted from you to the forgotten bourbon bottle; the sound of the bottle opening brought you out of your hazed mind, seeing Toji taking a swing of it whilst buttoning his damp white shirt. He looked like he was carved by the Gods themselves, taking hours for every hill of muscle. Endless scars and improperly healed wounds decorated his torso, you couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him, including the scar adorning his lips. You hoped Toji didn’t notice your staring at his scars. (of course he did, he just opted not to say anything, for now.) Your eyes followed his happy trail down to the V in his hips. With a urgnancy, Toji’s hand ran down the buttons of your blouse, as they flew across the room in various directions. Your mouth fell open at his brute strength, you could already feel the smirk of cockiness from the man. “Oh you like that huh? I got plenty more where that came from,” he said, pulling down your matching white flower lace bra, immediately latching onto your nipple. A pleased sigh left your mouth as Toji paid attention to your breasts, slightly grinding his clothed bulge against your still tingly pussy. Before pulling away, he left a chaste kiss in between your breasts, his eyes gazing into yours. Grasping the bourbon, Toji looked at you. “I hope you don’t mind stains.”
“I’m sorry what?” Shivers shot up your spine, as the liquid filled your belly button the brim, nearly spilling over onto your belly. Arching your back up a bit, Toji’s hands ran under your back as his mouth latched onto your belly. The liquid burned in his throat, his tongue lapping at any remnants of the alcohol in your belly button before pulling away. He left a trail of sloppy kisses up to your collarbone, the alcohol in his grasp. The smell of alcohol lingered on your skin as Toji poured the bourbon on your collarbone before lapping it up. Unexpectedly, his teeth pierced your skin a bit before he suckled on it, leaving a burning red mark that would surely turn into a beautiful dark hickey by morning.
Pulling away from your neck, Toji nearly chuckled at your flustered expression. “You know the janitors should be here soon.” He said, pausing before he pulled down his boxers. His dick smacking against his lower abdomen. Your eyes widened at his size, not even paying attention to his expression. “Hey now, you’re gonna stare, you might as well take a picture,” he said, lining his head with your slit. The tip prodded your hole, your gasp getting caught in your breath.
“I’ve never been with anyone with your size…” you admit bashfully, making him chuckle.
“I’ll try to be gentle,” The head of his dick slipped between your folds, a groan leaving the two of you. It’s been awhile since Toji has had sex with his hectic schedule and his rocky marriage. Easing himself out and then back in at a steady pace, Toji huffed. Your pitched moans sounded like music to his ears; he drove into you, his thrusts became harder and harder with each pass until you were breathless and frantic. Your fingers clawed at the desk, gripping one of the folders. “Oh- God!” you cried out.
“Why are you calling my name?” He said with a cheeky grin, His furious thrusts sent the objects on his desk flying onto the floor, the sound of glass shattering made your body freeze up. The photo of his wife fell over, but you didn’t give a damn; all you could think about was the release that threatened and the blood rushing in your ears. Shameless moans spilled over your lips, increasing in volume as the knot in your gut continued to churn; you didn’t care if the janitors heard you. Hell, you didn’t care if the whole damn city heard you, you finally got what you wanted. “You sound like a whore, you want the janitors to hear you?” He said, leaning down close to your face.
“I don’t care!” you cried out, your lips ghosting over his; the hollow sound of your skins slapping together ricocheted in the room, spilling into the presumably empty hallways. The knot in your gut finally snapped, your mouth falling open whilst clawing at Toji’s veiny forearms. Toji looked down at your orgasmic face, the moonlight illuminating your features. He paused his thrusting to stop and admire your face. He looked down at you with such soft eyes, it was such a shame you didn’t see it.
Jitters ran through your body, your legs as weak as jello. Blinking slowly, your vision was greeted with Toji’s flushed expression. He was panting slightly, his tanned cheeks beamed red. His scarred lip twitched upwards into a smirk. “You back?” You nodded, your eyes glossy in forming tears from your intense orgasm. “Good. Wrap your arms around my neck.” You obeyed, feeling his arms wrap around your waist before lifting you up. Your back met the cool window, looking into his feline-like eyes. His hands moved down to your thighs to balance your body properly. Thrusting upwards, his tip brushed against your g-spot, another gasp leaving you. Toji didn’t waste any time with his driving pace. His breath became louder, labored, and short, as his thrusts were more frantic. He was as hard as a rock inside you, filling your walls. You could sense he was so close as were you with your sensitivity. “God, it’s like your pussy was made for me.”
“Only for you, Mr. Fushiguro,” you squealed out, your hold around his neck tightened as your back arched off the glass window. His body drove into your hips a final time, and then he was moaning again and again. Listening to him made your insides quiver, your walls fluttering around his pulsating dick. The feeling of him pulsing inside you was like nothing else, his constant animalistic moans nearly matched with your whorish ones.
“Fuck, (Y/N),” he groaned out one last time, his dick painting your insides white. He pressed his damp forehead against yours, his cum seemed endless, filling you to the absolute brim. You two stayed in that position for a while before Toji pulled out, his cum dripping down your thigh the moment he pulled out. He let your body fall against him, guiding you to the leather couch. Your head fell against his chest, listening to his heavy breathing and the rummage of his heartbeat. He pressed a kiss on the top of your head, squeezing your hip. Your tired eyes shifted towards the door as you two came down from your highs. Squinting at the door, you had wondered if the door was cracked open the entire time.
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xbuchananbarnes · 2 months ago
Chain the Devil ⌖ One
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Summary; Mob boss, James Barnes, finally meets his most trusted hit(wo)man, and quickly learns that even the Devil himself believes in love at first sight. Their jobs and a few ghosts from their past might make it harder for them to get their happily ever after, but if they can’t move Heaven, they will raise Hell.
Word count; 4,206.
Warnings; MOB AU. 18+ only. Swearing (because it’s me), teasing, Bucky Barnes is a total flirt and it makes reader roll her eyes a lot, mentions of violence, mob/gun talk inaccuracy, poorly edited.
» read it on AO3 here!
⌖ Pʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ ⌖ Sᴇʀɪᴇs Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ ⌖ Nᴇxᴛ ⌖
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“How on earth can I keep you?”
— Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence.
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The very first thing Bucky thinks is nice legs.
The second thing he thinks about is getting rid of his entire staff and probably shooting the person responsible for this security breach.
He’d think they’d know better by now.
The woman sits properly on Bucky’s chair and turns until she’s facing them, her hands up in the air and her eyebrows raised in innocence.
Bucky raises his right hand too, gesturing to his men to hold their fire at the sound of them fumbling to get their guns. He tentatively takes another step inside his office, eyeing the woman carefully.
His voice is surprisingly soft and calm when he asks, “Can I help you?”
“You wanted to meet me,” the woman replies with a smirk, crossing her legs slowly, leaning back on the chair. She seems a little too comfortable for the situation she’s in —mob boss accompanied by three men with guns, staring down at her—, and Bucky can’t wait to see how this plays out. “Sent me on a little scavenger hunt today, but I got this—”
She reaches inside of her jacket pocket and smiles almost apologetically at Bucky as his men tense up. She moves slowly, pulling out the envelope and setting it down at the end of the desk closest to him.
Bucky picks up the package, recognizing it right away and his eyes widen a second before they settle on her face.
“Is this a joke?”
“Do I look like I’m joking, boss?”
Bucky snorts, clearly amused, and he’s not sure why. He composes himself right away, looking at her and then at his men — guns still out and ready to take the woman out if needed. Bucky motions them to exit his office and after sharing a look in between them, they reluctantly do as they’re told.
“So, tell me,” Bucky mumbles, setting the package back down on the table and moving towards the other end of his office, craving a drink, “where were you on September third of last year?”
She smiles openly at him but doesn’t seem surprised at all by his question. He’s testing her, making sure she is who she’s saying she is, and she doesn’t skip a beat before she answers: “Well, I was killing the senator for you, of course.”
Bucky stills, his drink halfway to his mouth, and scoffs before taking a long gulp.
She’s right.
“How about a drink?” He looks back at her, offering her his glass of bourbon.
“You’ve bought me enough bottles of Nolet to know I prefer gin,” she says, standing up slowly and circling his desk, holding onto the edge of it before jumping to sit on top of it, “but thank you.”
She sighs, her eyes roaming around his office. The place is beautiful — all black furniture and fake leather, floor-to-ceiling windows, expensive paintings behind his desk and above the bar to the farthest right.
Bucky smirks because fuck, she’s right again.
She bites her lips because fuck, he’s handsome — perfectly groomed, wearing an all-black suit.
“Tell me how you’d do it,” he finds himself saying and she’s not sure exactly where he’s going with that thought until he adds: “If I was the job, how would you do it? How would you kill me?”
It takes her a moment to speak, and Bucky hides a smile behind his glass because he finally caught her off guard.
“For starters, I wouldn’t do it here,” she says, and Bucky raises an eyebrow, interested. “Can’t get past the door without your dogs hunting me down, and I can’t shoot you from a distance because the entire building is made out of bulletproof glass — must’ve been quite expensive, I imagine.”
Bucky pours himself another drink before moving in closer, standing right in front of her this time, his left hand inside his pocket. She doesn’t seem affected or intimidated, and it’s a breath of fresh air for him.
“It’d be tricky,” she continues, “but I only need one second, one moment — maybe you’ll be getting out of your car or you’ll decide to take another phone call out on the terrace,” she half shrugs, her eyes darkening. When she speaks again, her voice is smooth and it’s got a different edge to it — something that appeals to Bucky enormously. “Maybe, I can dress up really nice for you, try to get your attention at one of those bars you like to go to. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to get you all to myself.”
Bucky clears his throat, downing the last of his drink, holding her gaze.
The phone rings and the fog lifts, plucking them out of whatever trance they were just in. She stretches her hand behind her and hits the speaker button of Bucky’s phone. This time, showing her playful side, she answers it by saying; “James Barnes’ office, how may I help you?”
“Uh,” the woman starts, before clearing her throat nervously. “Mr. Barnes? Your next appointment is here, sir. They’re waiting for you at the conference room.”
“Thanks, Hannah,” Bucky replies, his serious tone not matching his face the slightest.
The woman, Hannah, hangs up the phone and she does the same once she hears the dial tone.
“I guess that’s my cue,” she mumbles, jumping off his desk and straightening herself up. She moves in closer with her hand outstretched towards him. “It truly was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barnes.”
Bucky’s surprised yet again, amusement written all over his face as he accepts the gesture, squeezing her hand tight. “Darling, the pleasure has been all mine.”
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The text is pretty straightforward:
The Public Library. My avenue. 5:45 pm.
It’s not warm or casual, and there’s no surprise there. What seems to make her do a double-take is the fact that Bucky wants to see her again. Was this going to become their new normal; talking about their targets over coffee and reading Dickens?
She does her homework before getting there, of course, and pulls a chair closer to one of the shelves, away from windows, and facing the elevator. Even though no one knew who she was and what she did (except for Bucky now), she figures it’s better safe than sorry.
After all, old habits die hard.
When Bucky finally walks in, no one else takes notice.
The few people scattered around the library are too focused on finishing up and quietly making their exit before the library closes. No heads are turning his way, no people staring at him as he looks around, and no other witnesses of the way he smiles when his eyes finally set on her.
And she thinks it’s a damn fucking shame.
He’s wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and a leather jacket that matches his gloves — a different side of him than what she was introduced to a few days ago at his office.
She swallows thickly, tearing her eyes away from him, telling herself to get a grip.
“Thank you for meeting me here,” Bucky mumbles low, pulling up a chair for himself and sitting right in front of her.
She stands immediately and Bucky copies her movement, clearly confused. She reaches for his chair and quietly moves it next to hers, so that they’re both next to each other, backs to the shelf, and facing the elevator.
“No bulletproof glass here,” she explains in a whisper that Bucky almost misses. “Stay away from the windows.”
“I’m not worried,” Bucky shrugs, inviting her to sit down again before he lets himself fall on his chair with a goofy grin. “Not when the best shot in the city is right next to me.”
She dismisses his charming smile with a roll of her eyes, but it’s enough to make her relax.
“What are we doing here, Mr. Barnes?”
“Got a job for you.”
She hums, sticking her chin out, motioning Bucky to continue. He pulls out an envelope from his jacket pocket and hands it over to her. She takes a quick peek inside of it and stares at the picture for a moment before putting it away. It’s a couple of low-life dealers but their security is a little tight, she knows that much. Still, it doesn’t explain why Bucky would bother coming all the way here to meet her.
“Alright,” she nods twice and tosses the envelope inside of her bag before she stands and heads toward the exit.
“Wait,” Bucky calls behind her in a hushed tone that doesn’t raise any curiosity from the two other people left in the library. “There’s one more thing.”
She looks at him expectantly, turning back slowly to face him.
“I’m going with you.”
It takes a second for the words to register in her brain and another one for her to grin wickedly.
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“You sure you can keep up?”
Bucky glares at her through his lashes, “Easily.”
She makes a face at him and Bucky waits until she’s walking ahead of him before he lets himself smile.
They’re quiet as she guides them deep into the woods. She’s sure to point out dips in their path and she holds branches up and away, only letting go when she’s sure Bucky’s got it.
Fifteen minutes into the walk, Bucky’s thankful she gave him a heads up and told him to wear workout clothes, emphasizing the make sure you wear comfortable shoes part as if he was a rookie.
A few more minutes go by and she stops almost abruptly to look around intently, carefully and then staring back at Bucky she says, “Pit stop. Give me a minute.”
He cocks his head in confusion but takes turns in between doing a quick scan of the woods himself and looking at where she’s going. She walks a few feet off their path and rounds a tree, pulling away some of the branches from the bush that surrounds it. She grunts as she pulls a bag from it, and after a quick inspection inside of it, she swings it over her back and straps it in before moving back towards Bucky.
“We’re almost there,” she mumbles over her shoulder, not waiting for him before continuing walking.
It takes another five minutes for them to reach the edge of the woods. She sets her bag down next to a tree by the edge of the cliff and admires the view for a moment, Bucky doing the same.
She takes a look at her watch and she’s in motion again, kneeling next to her bag to pull out her rifle, putting it together with an ease Bucky hasn’t witnessed in a long time, her eyes looking over places her hands aren’t.
Bucky decides to set himself up too, sitting down by the roots of the tree, leaning his back against the trunk, pulling out a couple of granola bars from his bag and a water bottle.
Bucky waits for her to say something, give him a witty remark or anything at all, but she’s too busy lowering herself and her rifle to the floor, laying on her stomach, and prompting herself up on her elbows, one eye closed as the other looks over at the Highway miles from them through the scope.
The ruffling of the metallic wrap is what finally gets her attention, and she turns her head towards him with a frown. Bucky offers her a couple of granola bars while taking a bite out of his, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
“This is not a picnic, you know?”
“I’m aware,” he shoots back in the same stern tone and they stare at each other for a moment before the corners of his mouth curl, teasing her. “Does that mean you don’t want the snack?”
Her mouth presses in a straight line and after checking the clock one more time and taking another quick peek through the scope of her rifle, she grunts as she snatches the bar from Bucky’s hand.
“Thanks,” she mumbles unamused, but Bucky catches a hint of a smile as she rips the package open and takes a bite.
Bucky grins, “You are very welcome, babydoll.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. The snarky comment she was about to shoot back gets stuck in her throat as her phone goes off and she’s quick to stop her alarm before getting comfortable again.
She slows down her breathing, inhaling from her nose and exhaling from her mouth and Bucky stays still, well aware that it’s time.
This is what they came here for.
It’s suddenly too quiet, the only thing they can hear is the faint buzz of the wind as it dances through the leaves.
Bucky tenses up when the two SUVs come into view, they’re so far away, they almost look like the toys he’s seen Steve’s son play with. He watches the cars move over the unmarked road, and then —all of a sudden— the front tire from the first car pops, making the driver lose control of the vehicle. He slams on the brakes and almost tips over as the car behind him slam right into it.
Once the cars stop moving, both drivers get out to yell at each other, looking around. Another man exits the first car and takes a look at the damage before standing up to yell at the first two men who look alert immediately, hands on their guns, ready for anything.
The last man looks around for a second, and then his lifeless body is dropping to the floor with a thud Bucky doesn’t hear but it’s more than familiar with.
The other men don’t have enough time — by the time they realize what just happened, she has already aimed, shooting both of them seconds apart.
It takes only a moment — a fraction of a second in which she catches the sight of her target looking out of the window at his men and there’s no hesitation before she takes her shot.
Bucky whistles at the spectacle, his voice loud and a little slurry as if he had a few drinks in him, “Sharp fucking shooter.”
“We gotta go,” she mumbles back, sitting up and taking her rifle apart faster than she had set it up, putting all the pieces back on her bag.
Bucky stands right after she does, follows her as she jogs back towards the tree she had picked up the bag from to hide it once again. She moves back towards Bucky and she frowns at his hazy expression.
“You good?”
“I—yeah. Just. Holy fuck,” Bucky swallows, giving himself a moment to take a deep breath. “I think I just fell in love with you.”
She rolls her eyes exasperated and Bucky laughs when she makes a face and motions to hit him but doesn’t.
“Seriously,” Bucky pushes in between chuckles, his breathing accelerating as they jog through the forest back to the trail. “I’m so hard right now I think I’m gonna pass out.”
“You know what I think is hard?” She asks, stopping dead in her tracks and turning around to face Bucky. He stares at her with wide eyes, almost tripping over his own feet at the sudden stop, heart racing because he’s finally getting something out of her. “It must be hard, with your sense of direction and all, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”
Bucky’s in utter shock, watching her mouth curved in an amused smile and he hears himself laughing a second before realizing he’s doing it.
They find their way back to the trail only a few minutes after, both of their breathing a little accelerated after the job but it’s perfect for their cover — they take a look around and pretend to help each other stretch before a group of joggers approaches them. They both find their way to the middle of the group and stay with them for the quarter-mile they need to cover to get to his car.
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Bucky’s borderline desperate.
His heart is still racing after the run and the rush of adrenaline that watching her work brought to him. His mouth is so dry and he’s racking his brain, trying to come up with something to say.
In the end, he settles with: “Stay with me today.”
She looks back at him over her shoulder, her hand holding the car door, half of her body out his Range Rover. She frowns, not understanding what exactly it is he’s asking.
“We could — We could have dinner or something,” Bucky offers and he feels like slapping himself on the face so he can get a grip. He feels hopeful as her expressions soften and she stares off into nothing, debating on what to say. It gives him a second to think, and he adds: “I could cook for you if you’d like.”
The curve of her mouth twists mischievous, “You can cook?”
“Darling, I can do a lot of things.”
She hums as if thinking about it, but she’s rearranging herself on the seat again, closing the door and fishing for the seatbelt. “Know how to cook a steak?”
“Steak,” Bucky repeats with a nod. “Yeah, I — I can handle that.”
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He learns that day that she always craves red meat after a job.
He learns that she likes The Black Keys when he listens to her humming the song playing over the speakers at the grocery store.
A different kind of feeling washes over him then, thinking that maybe this could be his life all the time — grocery shopping, going to the movies, having dinner together, traveling the world without having to watch over his shoulder all the damn time.
She hums in delight and Bucky focuses on her face, she looks so young like this — eyes half-closed, her expressions twisting up in delight as she smiles, a tub of ice cream in between her hands. She places it down on the cart Bucky’s pushing, her smile widening, and then turns around, practically skipping down the aisle.
Bucky’s helpless, following right after her with a chuckle.
She eyes a gossip magazine while waiting in line to checkout and Bucky sighs almost dramatically.
She hums loudly, “Nice.”
She moves the magazine towards him so he can see the picture of himself coming out of a charity event earlier that month, the blonde actress that was trying too hard for his taste, hot on his heels. Bucky groans as he reads the words ‘romance in the air?’ in big bold letters above their picture.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he grumbles, taking the magazine from her hands and putting back in the stand with a huff. “I gotta do something about that.”
And she laughs, loud and real, eyes closing for a moment, her right hand coming up to cover her mouth and Bucky wishes she didn’t. Bucky wishes he could watch her laugh forever, and ain’t that a terrifying thought?
The line moves and the moment passes but she’s still smiling as she takes the groceries out of their cart so the cashier can ring them up.
“Hi, Mr. B,” the cashier greets cheerfully, stretching his neck out to look past her and catch Bucky’s eyes.
“Hey, Josh,” Bucky smiles back, moving forward to help with whatever’s left in the cart, intentionally avoiding her interested gaze. “How’s it going?”
“You know,” Josh shrugs, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he rings them up, “work.”
Bucky nods as if saying I understand. After a moment, the boy looks up at Bucky and follows Bucky’s gaze towards her, his smile widening.
“Wow. Hi,” he sighs. “I’m Josh.”
“Hi, Josh,” she says, giving the boy a heartbreaking smile and Bucky can see the air getting stuck in his lungs. “How do you know Mr. B?”
Josh’s eyes widen at the question, looking back at Bucky and his hands still over the scanner as if waiting for permission. Bucky nods once and Josh breathes easy.
“I helped him find an emergency kit once,” he mutters, his hands working again, muscle memory coming to the surface as he clicks around the screen after Bucky hands him a couple of bills and he gets his change.
“We became friends after that,” Bucky says solemnly, and the boy smiles.
She stays out of the quick conversation they have as they pack the items. Bucky places everything inside the cart again and moves in closer to hug the boy goodbye.
“Tell your mom I say hi,” Bucky says, patting the boy’s back twice before letting go.
“I will,” Josh nods, and then with a sudden flush of his face he stares at her and adds, “It was nice to meet you.”
She smiles the same way again and the boy twitches in the spot, “You too.”
Once they’re back in the car, Bucky snorts, “You’re evil.”
“Me?” She asks, her hand on her chest in fake disbelief. “What did I do?”
“Almost gave the boy a heart attack smiling at him like that,” Bucky mutters disapprovingly, shaking his head. “Poor kid didn’t even know what hit him.”
She grins devilishly, rearranging herself in her seat, not knowing what to say, mostly because she didn’t want to give Bucky the satisfaction of knowing he finally managed a decent enough compliment.
Instead, she asks, “So what’s the story there?”
“Got stabbed a while back,” Bucky shrugs. “Came in for supplies and he was there, working the graveyard shift. He helped me to the back and patched me up, he was good at it, too. I gave him a couple of hundred bucks and… well…”
“Did he spend it on something stupid?” She pushes, genuinely curious now.
“He bought Christmas presents for his little sister, actually,” Bucky continues, a proud smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. “His mom was sick at the time and he was balancing taking care of her and his sister with keeping a job and going to school.
“I met his mom about a month after meeting him — a very nice woman. I told him I’d help him pay for his mom’s treatment if he promised me to finish school. He’s gonna need good grades if he wants to go to a decent university. Even more so if he wants to be a doctor.”
She gets lost on his words for a moment, on the sweet smile adorning his face and the small glimpse at his heart. She’s almost jealous of the way he can be so good and kind while doing what he does. She almost forgot what caring about someone else might feel like.
“James Barnes, terrifying mob boss posing as a business wizard is a total softie,” she jokes, trying to get rid of her thoughts and lighten the pit in her stomach. “I gotta call that gossip magazine and let them know immediately.”
Bucky groans loudly, “Please, don’t. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
She laughs, and Bucky’s lucky enough to roll to a stop at a red light to be able to watch her properly.
“Don’t worry,” she promises, “that secret is safe with me, too.”
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She learns fairly quickly he wasn’t lying — he really can cook.
He’s skillful with a knife, flips it on his hand easily before he focuses on chopping some vegetables.
“You look like you want to say something,” Bucky says, a playful smile on his face and she moves in closer, resting her hip against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “What is it?”
“Why did you take me there?”
Bucky frowns, not sure what she means.
“To the grocery store,” she explains, and Bucky’s frown only deepens. “Were you trying to show me how kind you are or something? Did you think that’d win me over?”
“Not for a second,” Bucky sighs once he finds his voice, looking back at his hands and it’s a moment before he keeps chopping. “I know I’d need way more than that to even stand a chance with you. As to why I took you there, I don’t know… I always go there, it’s where I’m comfortable and I knew we’d be safe. I just — I’m just trying to show you that I trust you. I mean, you’re in my house for Christ’s sake. I can’t even remember the last time I had someone in here that wasn't in the cleaning crew.”
A pang of guilt makes her stomach turn and as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, Bucky takes notice.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No,” she assures him, with a wave of her hand and a shake of her head. “I just can’t seem to figure out exactly what you want from me.”
“Dinner,” Bucky states, and it’s as simple as that. “I just want to have dinner with you, maybe talk for a while if that’s alright. You don’t have to, though. I’d never force you to do anything you don’t want.”
And then she sees it — the way his eyes shine at the possibility, the please that goes unsaid as his right hand tightens around the handle of the knife —, Bucky’s lonely.
She knows that because she’s spent most of her life feeling pretty fucking lonely, too.
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⌖ Pʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ ⌖ Sᴇʀɪᴇs Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ ⌖ Nᴇxᴛ ⌖
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celestialbarnes · 7 months ago
sin city request: breeding kink 40s bucky PLEASE
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warnings: nsfw, 18+, breeding kink, 40s!bucky can take me anytime, 
“You drink?” your date asks when he returns with two glasses of what looked like bourbon, the party was in full swing, the live band was performing all those latest hit songs, after all, they did say the 40s was the decade you’d want to live in.
“What? You think a woman can’t drink?” You retort playfully smiling when the brunette chuckles, licking his lips as he passes the glass to you, watching, his gaze fixated on your lips as you took a swig, feeling the alcohol burn your throat as you did, you had, after your best friend’s persuasion decide to go out on a date.
You weren’t one for sit down diners and sweet talk however, so it was only a coincidence that your date wasn’t one for that either, his name was Bucky and by gods, the man looked good, he had by the looks of things just returned from a trip, given the way he had walked in, dressed in uniform, and if there was anything you liked more than him, was the brunette in a uniform, just the way it hugged his larger frame and the way his eyes met yours could have on your knees.
“So, what’s your favourite colour?” he asks, trying to strike up a conversation and you chuckle softly.
“Really Bucky? Are you going to pretend that all you want is to talk about what I like?” you reply, your voice sultry and you sauntered forward, smirk playing on your lips when he swallows hard, you bite your lip as you lean in, placing a hand on his chest as he circles his arm around your waist.
“Pretty and straightforward, I like that,” he replies and you smile, finishing the rest of your drink before letting him take you out back, feeling his hand slide down your back as you did, the second the bar’s back door closed, Bucky’s lips crashed onto yours hungrily, your lips moulding with his, moaning when he pins you against the wall, the heat of the evening mixed with the impending sex in the air pushed you forwards as he chases your mouth, you grin allowing his hands to slide over your curves, squeezing, going lower until he hikes your skirt up.
You were tired of wearing those pretty little dresses, dolling up when all you wanted was to be taken right here and now, Bucky tasted like mint and whiskey, a combination that you didn’t know you loved this much, you quickly undid the button of his pants, pulling his cock out, pumping it in our hand, your thumb swiping over the tip, gathering the pre cum, using it as lubrication, whimpering when Bucky moves his lips from yours, pressing open mouthed kisses all over your exposed neck, nipping on your skin.
“You’re so fucking wet doll,” Bucky growls as he pressed the pad of his thumb to you clothed cunt, your arousal already staining your soaked panties, and you moan when he pushes the flimsy fabric aside, lining his cock up at your slick entrance.
“You sure about this?”
“Just fuck me Barnes,” you reply, and that was all it took for Bucky to push into you making you cry out as he stretches you out, god, it seemed like heaven as your walls stretched to accommodate his girth, he barely gives you time to adjust as he started moving, thrusting into you, pulling out only to slam back in over and over again into your sopping wet pussy.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Bucky groans as he delves right back into your cunt, grunting when your nails dug into his shoulder as you hung on for the ride, feeling the brunette lift your leg just a little higher as he thrusted into you, his fingers digging into your waist as he did, the sound of skin slapping against skin was simply pornographic, and the though of getting caught by any unlucky passerby just simply turned you on more, you didn’t care if they watched as Bucky fucks you senseless, hell, you wouldn’t mind them watching, your eyes were half lidded as he pounds your pussy.
“Gonna fill this pretty pussy up doll, you’d like that don’t you?” Bucky growls and you nod, whimpering as he pressed his frame against yours, you were so close and with the sinful words that he was spewing, it wouldn’t take long for you to come undone, moaning when his teeth grazed your neck, feeling his breath against the shell of your ear as he thrust into you, his tip brushing his sweet spot each time he did, pushing you further to the edge, your walls clamping down on his cock.
“P-please, fill me up,”
“Don’t worry doll, I will,” Bucky groans as your walls tightened around his cock, cries of pleasure falling from your lips as you dived headfirst into ecstasy, your pussy pulsating as you come undone, the brunette following down the same path, grunting as he spills into you, his cock throbbing as he fills your pussy up with his seed, the both of you breathless, panting as he slowly pulls out of you, the two of you coming from your highs.
“What do you think of a second date?” Bucky asks as he zips up.
“Sounds perfect”
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sin city 
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