warnings: Fluff. grocery store meet cute. flirting. six year old niece called missy. consumption of aerated beverages (lol im so dramatic its just coke). bucky being very charming. mortified reader. written in a fun and light hearted way.
synopsis: your niece is an angel, and she does the favour of finding you the man of your dreams.
author's notes: i wrote this in one sitting. also im sorry if you didn't like the gradient for this fic, i wanted it to be childish(?) cus a six year old is the diva. pure vibes.
Everyone say thank you to @ornateglass for making these super cute illustrations 💗💗💗💗💗💗 clara, i love you so so much🥰
Enjoy 💋
Fate is fun. Fate is cruel.
Fate is what made you run into the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes upon.
Fate is what your niece has to say about you to that man.
----
It was a fine sunday afternoon. You were babysitting your neice, as a good aunt does, and trying real hard not to daydream about someone holding you close, whispering words in your ear that makes your pulse go wild, and drag their lips across your neck. The way someone might say how much they live you and would bring you the moon–or your favorite cookies– if you asked.
"Can you paint my nails? like yours?" the voice brings you out of dreamland and back to reality, back to the six year old with a tiara on her head and the remnants of chocolate on her cheeks.
Sighing, you put on a smile and usher her close to you, "You sure you want red? Isn't that too grown up for you?"
The little girl takes your hands in hers and inspects your nails, the blood red colour gleaming from the soft lights. She squints her eyes and taps her fingers on her head, thinking hard. You laugh at her theatrics and ruffle her hair, "We'll do the pink one, yeah? It'll match your dress. Then you can show them to your friends."
She looks up at you and makes a show of thinking harder. You raise your eyebrows, waiting for her next move, and she raises her own. She claps her hand and stands up, "okay." and leaves to go get the pink polish.
You smile as she bounces around to your vanity and digs through the numerous bottles there.
"Oh no no no. We don't touch that Missy. That costs more than me."
She slowly sets the bottle of perfume down, "It doesn't even smell good."
You sigh.
It's like having a very judgemental cat, who can also speak. Who's also way too cute for you to get mad at her.
"C'mon, or I'll tell your mama you weren't good." the threat was half hearted– you won't snitch on her, she's not doing anything wrong.
----
"It's on my finger. ewww..." her nose scrunches up in disgust, "mama does it so much better."
"That's because, you keep moving your hand. Not my fault, huh?" you look up at her, her eyes wide in disbelief, fear of how her hands are not, in fact, looking as pretty as you promised.
"Oh come on! it's not that bad. it's so pretty, see? All your friends will say how pretty you look when you go back to school."
"No they won't. They look so bad...."
You can lie to a six year old, lying to a six year old is not hard.
But you won't lie to yourself, those nails are not looking good. and no, that's not because she kept moving her hands. Well, nothing too serious, right?
"How about we go buy some snacks? those cheese things you like." You were confident it'll take her mind off the disaster on her fingers. and you were in desperate need of grocery.
It did not, however, take her mind off the situation.
She still kept looking at her nails, and then you, and the expression she wore on her face was not a friendly one.
You knew you had to pull out the big guns.
Thing about missy, she hates being ignored, even more so when its her favourite person. "Alright then, I'll go finish up some work."
You moved from the bed to grab your laptop and made a show of opening it with the biggest sigh you could muster. "I've got so much work today. I was hoping we could go out, but i understand if you don't wanna."
You could hear the gears turning in her head, torn between her temper and her ego and wanting to spend time with you. She comes up to you, "No, we can still go. I'll put on my shoes."
You look down at her, "you will? oh missy! I'm so happy!" you put on a smile for her, but a secret, more evil one underneath, knowing your plan worked.
----
You strap your seatbelt and look at her, the conflicted emotions clearly visible on her face. She's still unhappy about the nails, but she doesn't want you working when she's here.
You smooth her hair with your hands and tap her nose.
"I'll fix it. don't worry." You will, you can't let anything dim the light inside her heart, the one that lights up her face and everyone's around her. She's an angel. and you love her.
The melody of the latest pop songs floats in the air. The off beat singing from the little girl next to you was as heartwarming as it was earsplitting.
Suddenly, her little fingers, still stained pink, reach over and turns down the volume before turning over to you, eyebrows raised.
"What?" you laugh, not getting the sudden change in demeanor.
"Did you see that? the ad on that board."
"Nope, what was it? Burger king?"
"A girl with her boyfriend... and burger king."
"I'm not taking you there, you didn't even take two full bites, and the burgers aren't even tha-"
"A girl. With. Her. Boyfriend. Where's yours?"
That girl and that audacity.
"i don't have one. what's that got to do with you?" it was a shame really, defending yourself in front of a six year old. Pathetic, even.
"Everyone has one. Is it because you're ugly?"
An incredulous laugh. A death stare.
"No. I'm not ugly. And you should not speak to anyone like that"
If anyone needed any proof, the fact that your last boyfriend was the most handsome, greek god in human form, hunk of a man to ever exist would be more than enough. You still miss Steve sometimes.
----
You finally reach the grocery store. The bright overhead lights making you squint. The buzz of those unnecessarily loud.
"Now you stay with me, alright? We're first gonna get some bread, and then go to the dairy section, and then some fruits, and then..."
The girl you were talking to was already walking over to the chocolates. "Missy! Stay with me, girl!"
You guide her back to the bread. Bread was important. Bread needed your attention.
"Can I go get the chocolates? I promise I won't get lost..." The little voice trails off, already knowing what you'll say.
You look down at her, "No. You stay with me. It's late, and I don't want you to mess with the wrong person." She pouts and huffs, glaring at you, but she knows you're right and reluctantly stays, like the angel she is.
----
You stroll lazily along the aisles, dragging the cart with you. Every few seconds you have to push the cart to the side, the wheels having a mind of their own as they keep moving in the opposite direction.
You look at the selection of cereals displayed, cinnamon, chocoalate and cinnoman, sugar and cinnoman, cinnamon and apple; they cant be much different from each other, yet you're confused.
"Should we get cinnamon and apple? I think it'll taste like apple pie." Turning over the box, looking at the illustration of the family of bears eating cereal in a small living room. The father bear wearing glasses and a red shirt reminds you of a certain someone, "look, thats your dad, ha!"
She absolutely hates when you compare her daddy to a bear, but it's a running joke in your family now. Not getting a whiny response telling you to shut up, you look away from the box.
That little... girl. Is missing again.
"Missy!" The frustration evident in the way your hiss travels the air. You'll need to have a nice little chat with your sister about her parenting techniques. That's no way to raise a child. Besides, it's always nice having something to sass your sister about.
You drag your cart around, and leave for the chocolates. Ready to lovingly give her a piece of your mind. Ready to lovingly buy a leash because she. doesn't. stay.
It's empty.
The aisle is empty.
Take a deep, big breath. She's just around somewhere. Don't worry about the weird incident that happened here last month. The place is safe. She's safe.
Now you're speeding around the aisles. Your cart is your race car and you are the... woman driving the race car.
The fresh produce section; empty? Why would a six year old go there?
The cosmetics; not there. At least you don't have a sephora niece.
When you finally see the pink dress and the wild hair near the freezers, you breath a sigh of relief.
The very breath was caught in your chest as you spot the man next to her, smiling down at her as she continued blabbering and making gestures with her hands.
"Missy! I told you to stay with me!" You ran upto her, placing your hands on her shoulder and pulling her close to you.
You finally – finally – looked at the man. He was tall, that was the first thing you noticed. Wearing a shirt that did nothing to hide the way his shoulders stretched the fabric taut. The way his eyes, oh so blue, gleamed from the harsh bright light overhead. The way his smile reached his eyes as he looked down at Missy and then back at you.
You didn't believe in love at first sight, but this was as close to it as it gets, or maybe you're just lonely and the first attractive man you see, you declared him the love of your life.
"You must be auntie, huh?"
Oh.
That did not sound good coming from his mouth. Those perfect, pink, lips. Thos-
"Yes! She is!" She gleams up at both of you, a hint of mischief in her eyes that never meant any good.
"Yes. I am." your voice lacked any enthusiasm, your dismay evident.
"Aren't I a lucky man? Running into an angel at this hour." His voice was smooth, deceptively smooth, to the point where you couldn't tell if he was talking about Missy or... you.
"More like the devil. She never listens to me. Thank you... for keeping an eye on her."
He crouches down to her level, his fluffy hair just begging for you to run your hands in them.
What? That's so perverted.
"I was just telling her how pretty her nails look. She did them herself?" He looks up at you, eyes filled with amusement that told you he already knew the answer.
"I...uh... No. I did them." You couldn't bring yourself to lie, not when he probably already knew the whole story. Another thing about your niece, she loves oversharing, and when she's unhappy with something– she makes sure the whole world knows about it.
"Yeah? You did? Not very good with your hands, I believe."
"I am very good with my hands. It was just..." You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. You hope he doesn't take it the other way.
The way he smirks and tilts his head tells you he absolutely gets it. He stands up to his full height then, and takes a step close to you. Far enough to still be respectful, but close enough you have to tilt your head to look into his eyes, and his scent floods your senses. Something smoky, spicy and just a hint of sweetness. Addictive. That's all you can think of.
"I dunno about that, darling. Guess I'll have to take your word for it."
Fuck.
You had no words. You truly were at a loss of speech. All you could do was look into those mesmerizing blue eyes. Your lips parted but no sound came out.
"My auntie doesn't have a boyfriend."
Those six words from a six year old's mouth should not have mattered that much. But right now, they did. And boy, did they matter to him.
He didn't miss a beat. "Is that so?" he asks, clearly amused as his gaze stayed on yours. "Tragic. Tragic indeed."
You could feel your face burning. "Missy! I– It's not– I mean–"
"Well," he smiled even wider, as if he's won something ,"normally I'd buy you a drink....." He pauses, and looks around the aisle, his face brightens up as he looks back at you, "fancy a coke, angel?"
Missy bounces in her spot, overjoyed for god knows what reason. Maybe she enjoys embarassing you, maybe she just likes coke.
"You don't have to–"
"Please. Let me." his voice so soft, you didn't have it in you to refuse, and why would you? Look at him.
----
You head to the checkout. Him holding three bottles of coke and a bag of fruits, you holding your cinnamon-apple cereal and Missy with her cheese and herb chips.
You kept stealing glances at the man.
He was...angelic.
His defined jawline shadowed with stubble. His smile as he talked to the boy behind the counter about his final project. The way his arms bulged under his shirt when he picked up the bag of fruits back from the counter.
You figured he knew the boy, maybe he frequented this store often. Why had you never seen him before today? Was today really a lucky day?
"What's your name?" You blurt out before you could think better. It truly was a weird way to ask for a name, but then again, when do you ever know how to talk to people.
He turns to look at you, smirking, brows raised, "Finally. Been dyin' to tell you my name. Call me Bucky."
You echo his name back. It felt good. You smile and give him yours.
"Pretty name for a pretty face." He picked up your stuff as well and pays for it along his own.
"So... you come here often?"
"Mhmm, live a block away. That your car?" He points to your car, the only car in the lot at this hour. You nod as Missy runs away to reach first.
You keep a steady pace along with Bucky, your heart doing flips inside your chest everytime his arm brushes yours.
You catch him staring at you, and your face burns so hot, it feels like it's on fire.
When you reach the car, he places the bag on the hood and leans on it. He hands one bottle to Missy, opening it with steady hands. "Don't spill it, huh, auntie will get mad."
"You don't have to call me that," you begin, your voice suddenly shy, "it's weird."
He laughs then, and it's a voice that warms you, travels through your bones and settles deep inside your heart. You love the sound of his laughter.
"Of course. Sorry, angel." His voice was sincere, yet still holding an air of amusement around it.
"My auntie says she loves men who are strong." The six year old's voice breaks whatever curse his eyes had put you in and you found yourself ducking your head down.
"Is that right? Your auntie needs a strong man to love her? Do you know anyone who's strong?" He ruffles her hair and looks over at you, smiling at the new found information.
"You're strong! How about you be my auntie's boyfriend? My mom says she's all alone and sad and reads stories about men who love her and–"
You slap your hand over her mouth to shut her up. "That's enough. No... "
You couldn't meet his gaze even if you tried. "I don't... I don't always read stuff like that. They're– they're stories from amazing authors, I support them. That's all."
He takes the bottle from your hands and sets it down on the hood next to his. "I could make all your stories come true, if you'll allow me to."
Your breath caught in your chest.
It's a dream.
It's a beautiful dream. The man of your literal dreams telling you he'll fulfill every single dream of yours. Yeah, it's a dream.
But you don't know him. You don't know anything except his name and his smile and his charm. You don't –
As if sensing the whirlwind of your conflicted thoughts, he speaks up, "I'm not forcing you– I just... I'd love to get to know you more... take you out someday. You don't have to say yes... I won't take it to heart, I understand if you don't–"
Seeing him nervous and rambling out words that assure you he isn't a creep made you feel a lot lighter. He's not a man made of dreams and stars and fairy dust. He's as human as you are.
"Bucky... I'd love to go out with you," your voice was shockingly steady despite the way your heart was over working , "I'd love to."
You take out your phone and hand it to him, and as you do, his fingers brush yours and a dizzying, electrifying zap shoots up your spine. The stories are true, they weren't exaggerating the plethora of sensations from something as simple as a brush of fingers.
"You'll call me when you get time?" His voice was hopeful, still not believing your words as you said yes to him.
"Yeah. I will." You smile up at him. Grabbing both the bottles, you hand him his and clink your bottles together. "I will."
He takes a sip of the drink, looking at you as he does so. He smiles once again, thankful, excited.
"I can't wait to see you again, angel. It's getting late, you should get home now."
"Are you my auntie's boyfriend now?"
Both you and Bucky turn to the sound of the little girl standing next to you. He laughs, "Very soon, kiddo."
----
As you and Missy get in the car, he leans down to your window, "I wasn't lying. I really am lucky...to have met you today."
"So am I."
He waits in the lot until your car turns around the corner. You're still smiling wide as you keep replaying his words in your mind. You'll make sure to thank Missy for finding Bucky for you.
"We forgot the bread." Missy's voice brings you back to the present.
Well, bread isn't important. Bread doesn't need your attention. Someone else does.
Ha! Missy is totally inspired by my four year old cousin who i babysat for a day, and she's a cutie, but a very very sassy cutie.
I'm fully open to constructive criticism. If you feel like you don't like it, or if my writing needs improvement, please don't hesitate to do so. Im always open to learning and correcting my mistakes. Please leave any thoughts below. I always love reading your thoughts. Reblogs are more than appreciated. I get zoomies everytime I see someone reblogs my fics, so please do so. It doesn't matter if you don't have any followers or are not a writer, reblogs do matter.
Thanks again for reading my little story. I hope you liked it.💙
You're so welcome! I could see him moving and everything in my mind based on the mannerism you described and coupled with the dialogue *chef's kiss*. It was so warm, and cozy. Just what I needed to end my sugar buzz of brownies and ice cream. Ha!
your plug definitely likes you a little too much, giving you free weed all the time, even when he knows it’s getting a little out of hand. but choso just doesn’t really know how to say no to you, especially when you wear shirts that are incredibly low cut or push up bras that basically show your whole world. it takes a lot for him to keep his eyes on yours, resisting the urge for them to drift where he knows they shouldn’t.
but he’s a gentleman, ignoring the short skirts or short shorts you wear that just barely cover your ass, or the slim fitted clothes that hug your body perfectly. he does have to adjust his stance sometimes to hide the painfully boner in his pants.
but you still notice. it’s so pathetically obvious with his awkward coughs to try and hide his arousal, or the way he bites on his bottom lip. and you’re not afraid to take advantage of this little ‘crush’ he has on you. especially when it gets you free weed and occasionally some free dick.
the first time it happened was at a party, the both of you high as a kite with choso a little more unfiltered than he usually is. he was also stuck to you like glue. he couldn’t keep his eyes off you and that dress you were wearing - couldn’t hide the tent in his pants either. and you thought fuck it - he’s cute enough, got a nice smile that makes your stomach swirl.
so here you were, in an empty bedroom riding your plug like a cowboy, your pussy clenching around his cock as his tip kisses your cervix. he was way bigger than you imagined. where had he been hiding all that?
he couldn’t contain the whines the fell from his lips, his hands gripping on your hips, bouncing you up and down on his cock. he’d been dreaming of this for months, finally having you the way he wanted, despite how messy he knows this could get. but god, you looked so fucking good riding his cock with your head thrown back, moaning out his name in a way that just made his tip throb.
with the way your clit smacks against his pelvis and the curve of his cock abusing that sweet spot of yours, you feel a tight build up in your stomach, gripping harder on choso’s shoulders that you’re using to balance yourself.
“m’so close cho..”, you whine with furrowed brows, looking down at him with a desperate expression. he swallows. why do you have to be so ridiculously attractive?
he feels his own build up the moment you speak with a strained voice, looking at him with lust and need. his cock’s been dying for it’s release, but he held back - there was no way he wanted to fuck this up by cumming like a virgin.
he groans, thrusting up and kissing your cervix, brushing past your g-spot and causing your orgasm to rush through your veins. your back arches and your body writhes, whining in pretty moans that you couldn’t even try to hold back. it was too much for him, feeling his cock throb as it shoots hot hot white cum that covers your walls while whimpering out in a pathetic way you found so attractive.
you were definitely too drunk on your orgasm mixed with your high to realise your plug just came inside you, choso nervously biting along the bottom of his lips and looking up at you like a misbehaved pup, “sorry..”
Summary: You will forever be grateful for the opportunity to reconnect with a childhood friend.
Pairing: Cameron Cade x Black!Fem Reader
Warnings: smutty smut, cursing, use of n-word, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, come play, slight public sex
Word count: 3.7k
Kinktober 2025 Masterlist
The clock above the reception desk ticked past twelve-thirty, the only sound in the wide, empty studio apart from the clink of iron and the dull whir of the ceiling fans.
You had already turned off the front lights; only the emergency row remained on, a pale sliver of light breaking through the darkness.
Cameron Cade was still in the weight room; you could see him through the glass. His white tank top was stuck to his back, each repetition a slow roll of muscle and breath. The man didn’t work out for fun; he worked out like he had something to prove. You knew from the beginning that it was due to the unrelenting pressure of his father. That man pushed Cam too much. You brought it up to your father once, but of course he told you to stay in a child’s place. Still, Cam always had to go the extra mile. It wasn’t surprising that now you both were in your early twenties that his determination was the same, if not worse.
You drummed your coffin-shaped nails against the countertop, trying your best not to look as irritated—or as distracted—as you actually were.
"Cam, nigga, you know I close at midnight!"
He grinned without looking up. "Clock says twelve-thirty. That's still tonight, right?"
You crossed your arms. "You're lucky you family; if you weren't, I'd have locked yo beige ass out already."
"I'm not family," he replied, chuckling softly while racking the barbell. "Not by blood anyway."
That line made your pulse spike for a beat or two or three. He was right. His dad and your dad were best friends. You two would hang out a lot as kids, but your mom got full custody of you in eighth grade, so you didn’t see him as much after that. The fact that you two went to different high schools didn’t help either. Still, the unspoken tension between you two was getting harder and harder to ignore. At least on your part.
He turned and wiped the sweat from his jaw with the edge of his shirt, and the grin turned into something almost shy.
Almost.
You snatched a towel and tossed it in his direction. "You smell like sweat and stubbornness."
"And you love my sweat and stubbornness," he retorted, catching it easily with one hand.
The silence filled with the sound of his breathing—slow, heavy, and too loud in the near-empty space.
He was leaning on one of the benches, big hands braced, head tipped slightly forward; a droplet of sweat slid down his neck and disappeared below his collar.
You found yourself staring and turned quickly toward the hallway. "I’m lockin’ up."
“Gimme five, Y/N,” he said, voice still that deep roughness.
“Mannn,” you rolled your eyes again and kissed your teeth. “You said that shit forty-five minutes ago.”
"Maybe I say a lot of shit I don't mean."
Oop, you weren't touching that one with a ten-foot pole; that could mean anything. That was too loaded.
You huffed, faking annoyance, but the corner of your mouth curling upwards betrayed you.
You walked across the hall and turned up the thermostat for the sauna—your little sanctum, especially after a sixteen-hour shift. The steam system hissed faintly from the back corridor.
You loved to decompress in the sauna after hours for an hour or so. Especially after long-ass days like today. It was hard work owning a gym, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
You took off your t-shirt and gym shorts, leaving you only in a black two-piece bathing suit. Normally you’d go naked in just a towel, but since Cameron was still there, you decided to at least keep something on. You unsnapped your smartwatch and set it next to your phone and other belongings in the cubby.
Cameron casually sauntered up behind you, his short hair damp and a fresh shirt slung over his shoulder. His whole body glistened from residual sweat and the wet veiling of eucalyptus oil from the towel rack in the weight room.
“Damn, Y/N. You ever get tired of the sauna?”
“Damn, Cam.” You retorted, mockingly throwing your arms up. “You ever get tired of elevated goblet squats?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Damn, girl. You been comin’ for me all day.”
His laugh was so contagious you couldn’t help but let out a laugh of your own as you kicked off your shoes and socks. “Because you’ve been a pain in my ass since we were 11 years old!”
“Aight. Mind if I join you?”
You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed deeply. “I just need one hour of quiet.”
“I can keep quiet.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. Come on, I guess.” And you shook your head, grabbing a towel off the rack.
He laughed again, low and effortless. The sound followed you as you pulled the door open; a surge of heat washed out, thick and aromatic. You could feel him behind you, still smirking as he quickly stripped down to his briefs and grabbed another towel himself, still too close.
“You really cool with me comin’ along?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you can behave or not.”
“Well, we’ll see,” he murmured.
The door clicked shut behind him, and the heat enveloped you both instantly. The steam unit began to hiss in the small cedar room, a steady exhale that seemed to make everything else silent.
You moved over to the control panel and tapped it down a few degrees; the numbers glowed orange through the haze.
"You sure you don't mind it this hot?" you asked, glancing back toward him.
"Two-a-days in August?" Cam let out a quiet snort. “Shit. This is a damn vacation."
You found a seat on the lower bench, towel tied around your hips, head back with your feet out. He sat down on the other bench, fists clasped around his knees, already beginning to glisten on his shoulders with sweat.
For a moment, neither one of you said anything. Just enjoying the sounds of slow breaths and the slow drip of condensation off the ceiling. The quietness between you felt familiar yet charged.
He was the first to break the silence.
“You still with that hoe-ass, septum-piercing-havin' ass nigga, Lorenz?”
It took everything in you not to laugh, so you quipped back. “You still with that self-hating, blue-eye-contact-wearin' ass hoe Katina?”
After staring at each other for a record-breaking four seconds, you both burst into laughter, leaning forward with your hands clutching your bellies.
“Man, you should’ve seen her when she switched to the green ones.”
You threw your head back, cackling.
“And that is why I used to close my eyes during missionary. I just couldn’t take that shit anymore,” he added.
“Nigga, shut up! My stomach hurts!”
He slapped his knee, still laughing.
Eventually, both of you composed yourselves, the air still buzzing with amusement.
You leaned back and sighed deeply. “But nah, I ain’t with him no more.”
“What happened?”
“He broke up with me last Christmas,” you said with a shrug. “Gave me some lame-ass excuse that I put more effort into this gym than I did into him…”
“Fuck that,” he shook his head. “His lame ass should’ve been proud of what you built. I know I am.”
You smiled softly at him, heart racing. “Thanks, Cam.”
He nodded back with a smile. “I’m not with Kat anymore either; she said I had more love for the game than her and dumped my ass four months ago via text message.”
You scoffed, shaking your finger, “If she knew you at all, she’d know you actually fuckin’ hate football.”
He didn’t agree or disagree. The heavy look he gave you said enough. You were one of the few people who saw through his father’s bullshit. Still, he wasn’t ready to admit the true reason he actually played, and you didn’t blame him.
After a few more seconds passed, he asked another question, changing the subject.
“How’s the gym been treatin’ you?”
“Good. I can’t complain, really. I hired a couple of new trainers. They'll be startin’ next week.”
“Still runnin’ those free Pilates classes?”
“Yup,” you nodded. “Every Monday and Wednesday. You could show up sometimes instead of comin’ in after hours like a ninja.”
He smiled. “But then I’d be missin’ out on all this peace and quiet.”
You rolled your eyes. “Mmhmm.”
The heat made everything slower and softer. He leaned back, stretched his legs out, the corners of his mouth twitched as if he was about to say something and decided better of it.
"What?" you asked.
"Nothing. Just... crazy seeing you again after all this time."
"You've been comin’ to my gym for months now."
"Yeah, but every now and then it still feels like we’re twelve, arguin’ over whose turn it was to feed that pregnant stray cat."
That got a delightful laugh out of you, bright, sudden, filling the shared space. You shifted to stretch your calf, and that's when he saw it.
"Ayo, hold up." He frowned. "What is that ink on your ankle?"
"What?" You grumbled, trying to hide it.
"That little shape—don't tell me that’s—" He leaned forward more, squinting through the steam. When you didn't say anything, he stood, crossing the short distance between the two benches. His hand found your shin before you thought to stop him, and he lifted it with ease, causing your towel to loosen up.
"No way." He breathed, pushing the towel at your ankle gently aside. "Is that... peanut butter?"
You winced, a little embarrassed. "I kept my promise."
A little over a decade ago, you both were preteens, promising each other that as soon as you turned eighteen, you’d get matching PB&J tattoos. He’d get the jelly half, and you’d get the peanut butter.
"You actually did it?"
"Five years ago."
He shook his head, a grin breaking through the disbelief. "You got the peanut butter and never told me."
"We lost touch after eighth grade..."
"Yeah, I know, but—damn, that was our thing. PB & J forever."
"I just assumed you forgot."
"Forgot?" He said, still holding your ankle like it was evidence, his thumb rubbing absent-mindedly in the beads of sweat. "I've been carryin' the sketch for the jelly part in my wallet since high school."
That admission sat between you two in the heat—sweat, steam, and a hundred unsaid memories wrapped around the two of you.
He finally looked up at you, eyes soft, wondering. "Guess we were always meant to finish what we started, huh?"
You smiled, heart tripping over itself. It was right at that moment when the air turned from nostalgia to something that felt heavier. The heater hissed, filling the quiet. Almost as if it was warning you of what was to come.
"Umm...you can let go of my leg now, Cam."
He raised an eyebrow and tightened his grip around your ankle. "What if I don't want to let go?"
You inhaled sharply, and your stomach jerked as if you were on an 80 foot rollercoaster drop. "Cam—“
"—And you don't want me to let go either."
You didn’t even have time to fix your lips to lie before he moved. With an athletic quickness, he snatched your towel and removed his own before he plopped back down on the bench, pulling you into his lap.
You could feel his erection through his briefs as you straddled him, your anxious hands resting on his pecs.
He looked up at you, sporting that small grin you couldn't resist, his palms now resting on your thighs. "Feel what you do to me?"
You failed to suppress your whimper. "Cameron, I think we should talk first before we—"
"We can talk later,” he dismissed calmly. “I'm ready for us both to finally find out how good I can stretch that pussy."
That last sentence was more than enough to ruin your restraint. You leaned down, crushing your lips to his in a long-awaited kiss. He cupped your face, deepening the kiss, while his free hand slid up to your waist, pulling you down against him into a slow grinding motion.
You’d imagined how your first kiss would be too many times to count. Still, your imagination didn’t have shit on reality.
You moaned softly as his tongue slipped past your lips, curling against yours. He grunted softly as you ground down harder, bikini bottoms no longer damp from just the steam and sweat.
He broke the kiss and leaned back, gaze never leaving yours as he freed himself. Your eyes flickered down, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you watched him stroke himself lazily.
“Hmm,” you hummed curiously. “I always wondered why you stopped wearin’ the jersey with the number eight. Got tired of advertisin’ what you was packin’ in them football pants, huh?”
He chuckled softly. “Shut yo ass up, Y/N.”
You giggled softly as you smacked his hand away, gripping the base of his dick and squeezing as you stroked up and down his length.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.
His hand slithered between your thighs, long fingers finding your clit with ease. His thumb circled your clit slowly through your bathing suit, and your eyes fluttered closed, grip tightening as you stroked him faster.
“Uh-uh,” he admonished. “Let me see those pretty eyes.”
You opened them as soon as the command fell from his lips, brown eyes locking onto his again. He didn’t have to say a word. His eyes were loud enough. Warm hazel with teeny flecks of green that caught the light just right, like a secret only you were meant to unfold.
He free hand pulled your bottoms to the side as his thumb continued to make circles against your clit. His middle finger swiped up your slit, coating the digit before he slipped it inside you.
You gasped, “Cameron—“ jacked movements paused at the base of his length for a second or two as he inserted a second finger without warning.
“Mmhmm,” he smirked, curling his fingers to a deliberate angle before he set a skilled pace, hard and deep. “I gotta stretch you a little bit more, baby.”
You didn’t even bother responding. You just nodded and moaned louder.
“You got a condom?” He asked.
You bit the inside of your cheek, but your sarcastic response escaped anyway. “Oh sure! I always bring a magnum into the sauna!”
He shook his head, smiling fondly up at you. “I walked right into that one, huh?”
“Just don’t come inside me, and we should be good.” Your laugh trailed off into a high-pitched moan as he fingered you faster, adding pressure to the circles on your clit.
That tight coil in your belly started to unravel. Your hand movements slowed as you tried to warn him. “Cam—shit—wait a sec, baby. I’m gonna—“
“I’m not stoppin’ until you come on my fingers,” he said. “Give it to me.”
He curled his fingers just a little more, the wet squelching sounds of his fingers stretching you filled the sauna, and before you knew it you were coming. A small shout escaped your throat as he continued fingering you through your orgasm.
Eventually he slowed, fingers slipping out of you when you let out an overstimulated whimper. His gaze stayed locked onto you as he brought his fingers pushed into his mouth, sucking your wetness clean off, moaning loud as if it were the best thing that ever happened to his taste buds.
You took two more deep breaths before asking as you pulled at the knot tied on the side of your bikini bottoms. “You want to put it in, or should I?”
“Uh-uh,” he smacked your hand away. “I want to do the honors.”
You couldn’t help but snort. He was just so damn goofy. Genuinely, one of your favorite things about him.
With a flick of his wrist, your bottoms were off and tossed to the floor. You lifted your hips slightly so he could push his underwear down past his knees, kicking them to the side once they fell to his ankles. You raised your arms and pulled your top off, hands coming back down to rest on his chest as he lined the tip of his dick with your entrance.
He pushed inside, and you inhaled sharply. You had to take a deep breath, reminding yourself to relax.
He grunted, one hand moving to your waist as the other helped push past your tight folds. “Goddamn, baby. Relax,” he groaned deeply. “Stop pushin’ a nigga out.”
“Stop splittin’ me open!” You retorted as you sank down further, ass seated against his thighs. “Big dick havin’ ass nigga,” you mumbled lowly.
“What was that?” He raised an eyebrow.
You shrugged, “I ain’t even say nothing.”
You rocked slowly until you opened up more, completely adjusting. You began to bounce, and he threw his head back. “I’mma tell you now. You got about ten minutes before I come. That pussy tight as fuck.”
You giggled. “I’m cool with that cause my knees got about eight minutes left before they give out.”
He chuckled loudly, cupping the back of your head and pulling you down into a kiss.
Your head felt light from the heat and exertion, but you weren’t going to let that stop you. You bounced harder even though you knew your knees were going to curse you; smooth the fuck out in the morning.
Oh, well.
You leaned back up, eyes fluttering closed as you tilted your head back. His large hands cupped your breasts, fingers teasing at your dark nipples.
“Goddamn,” he groaned. “You know how many times I imagined this?”
“I doubt as many times as me.”
“So pretty bouncin’ on this dick.” He praised, one hand dropping from your breast and sliding down your stomach to your wet pussy. He circled your clit hard and fast. “Give me another one.”
You whimpered as you felt another orgasm approaching, your body tingling all over. “Please don’t stop.”
“Come for me again.” he inhaled sharply as he felt your walls squeeze his dick even tighter.
Your second climax surged through you like a lightning strike. You yelped, coming harder than the first time.
“I can’t take it anymore.” He said as he gripped both sides of your hips, thrusting up into you like a madman as he chased his release.
“Fuuuck! Cam—” your breathy moans broke off into a choked sob, fingernails digging into his shoulders.
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he praised. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m ’bout to come. Where you want it?”
“C—come on my fa—face!” you managed to get out in between harsh pants. He let out a noise that sounded like a growl and whimper as he pounded into you a few more times before pulling out.
“On your knees.”
You hopped off him, dropping to the floor, sticking your tongue out as he stood above you, jacking his dick once, twice, before coming all over your face with loud curses and groans.
The warm come painted your cheeks, and a few drops landed on your tongue, so you swallowed, surprised that he didn’t taste as salty as you imagined. That high-protein diet he was on had you worried for a moment.
His dick was still hard as he stood there, panting harshly while he looked down at your come-covered face as if you hung the moon.
“How in the fuck are you still hard after that?” You asked, fingers scooping some of the come off your cheek and licking it.
He laughed breathlessly. “I knew you’d match my freak.”
You blinked at him, still licking your fingers.
“Fuuuck. I can come again—just really fast,” he grunted softly as he began to stroke himself again. “Where do you want it this time, baby?”
“On my tits.” You smirked.
You counted each stroke. Once he got to eleven, he gasped sharply, reopes of white coating your nipples as he spilled all over your chest. Not as much as the first time, but enough to make you a mess.
He dropped to his knees, crawling closer to you, analyzing all the evidence he left on you. He cupped your face, rubbing his come into your chin.
You laughed, “If you fuck up my skincare, I will sue yo ass into a new millennium.”
He threw his head back and laughed loud as hell.
Eventually he stood up, pulling you with him. “Let’s hit the showers.”
“Give me a sec. My legs clocked out five minutes ago.”
He scooped you up, carrying you out of the steamy room and down the back hallway to the showers as if you weighed nothing. Your legs were out of commission. It had been over a year since you last had sex, let alone rode a dick. Your legs were sore as if you just finished 100 reps of Bulgarian split squats.
20 minutes later you were both clean, come and sweat-free. You just stood under the spray, hugging each other.
You finally had the courage to say to him what you’d been wanting to for a long time.
“Your father,” you started, voice soft but sure as you looked up into his eyes. “You need to tell him that football is not where your heart is and it never has been.”
He huffed out a short laugh, looking down at you, his jaw tense now. "Yeah, right. You know he ain’t exactly the listenin' type."
“I don’t care,” you said, your tone sharpening. “Make him hear you. It’s time for Cameron Cade to walk in his own shoes.”
That landed. The defensive edge in his posture eased; shoulders relaxed, jaw unclenched.
He closed his eyes for a few seconds and sighed deeply, considering your words. When he opened them, his eyes were glassy with determination. “You always did talk to me like I was worth a damn,” he acknowledged.
“You are,” you answered simply. “You always will be.”
Thank you so much! I saw it twice in the theater!! I really enjoyed it! Most people are hating just to hate! You should definitely watch it and pleaseeeeee let me know how you liked it after 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
synopsis- having a boyfriend in the mafia isn't all diamonds and champagne. in the absence of his attention, he gives you the gift of someone else's.
starring- billy russo, frank castle, and female!reader
rated- x (18+) for explicit sexual content, graphic nudity, and strong language
run time- 3.6k
“Not now, darlin’.”
Billy didn’t even glance up from his computer. You’d spent nearly an hour in the shower, shaved and exfoliated, lathered your body in lotion until you were silky smooth, spritzed on the perfume that always drove him wild, spent extra time on your hair and makeup, showed up to his office to surprise him, and…nothing.
He didn’t even look up when you’d seductively unbuttoned the long black wool coat and let it slip off your shoulders to pool on the floor around your heels, leaving you in a red lacy lingerie set that left very little to the imagination.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
It had been like this for weeks now. A shipment had been stolen from the docks, and it had incited chaos. The Gnucci’s were pointing fingers at the Russians, the Russians were threatening to retaliate for the disrespect, and Billy had been drawn right into the middle of it because his guys were supposed to be the protection. You’d barely seen him at all lately.
“You know you’re not supposed to be out ‘til this dies down-”
“You’ve been saying that for over a month, William. I can’t stay cooped up in that goddamn penthouse, alone, anymore.”
Billy let out a frustrated exhale through his nose, leaning back in his chair to look at you, not even reacting to what you were wearing or how you looked, which had your stubborn confidence deflating.
“Would you quit bein’ a fuckin’ brat? I’m sorry you’re mad I can’t be up your ass right now, but I’m in the middle of some serious shit. Preventin’ an all out gang war is a bit more important than you gettin’ fucked. Christ, you act like you ain’t got toys to tide you over.”
His words incinerated you, and you reached down to rip your coat off the floor angrily.
“At least the only time those toys disappoint me is when the fucking batteries die. And if they can keep me satisfied, then what the hell do I need you for?”
Billy’s eyes darkened at your venomous words, but he could hear the clear hurt in your voice beneath the vexation, and it bothered him. It wasn’t like he enjoyed being away from you lately. He was frustrated that this situation had even happened, but he was more worried that if he didn’t handle it, someone might try to hurt you just to get back at him.
Letting out a sigh, he rubbed his palm down his face as you hastily pulled your coat back on.
“Look, just…hang on a minute, darlin’.”
He knew he was being unfair to you. The two of you had a very healthy sex life, or did, up until a month ago. He knew this attitude was purely sexual frustration, and you weren’t gonna calm down until you got what you wanted.
And Billy could never deny you.
He glanced over at his office door, his eyes lingering on it for a moment seemingly in thought before they flickered back to you.
“I know what you need, baby.”
The sudden saccharine softness of his voice perplexed you, a stark contrast to how he’d spoken to you just moments before, and the wicked smirk that stretched across his mouth clued you in that he was up to something, but you had no idea what. Before you could even ask, his eyes flickered over to the door again and he called out.
“Hey, Frankie.”
A few seconds later, the door opened, and a familiar figure stepped in, causing you to quickly wrap your coat around yourself tightly to protect your modesty as you shot Billy an incredulous look. He seemed to not have a care in the world that you were standing there in lingerie when Frank walked into the room.
“Yeah?”
Billy loosened the tie around his neck as he looked at Frank, gesturing to you with a nod of his head.
“Take care of my girl, would ya? She’s feelin’ a bit neglected.”
Your eyes nearly popped out of your head as you gawked at Billy. Your brain refused to process the words that passed through your ears. Did he just offer you to Frank?
“What the fuck, Billy?”
“What? My hands are tied up right now, baby. Frank’s ain’t.”
All at once your cheeks flushed with heat, though you weren’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment. Billy was serious. He was actually fucking serious. Frank, who had said maybe seven words to you the entire six months that you’d known him, seemed completely unphased by Billy’s command. You weren’t naive about who Billy was and what he did, and there was no naivety towards Frank either.
You didn’t know much about Frank, other than that Billy had known him for a long time, was the person Billy trusted most in the world, and did virtually whatever Billy asked of him, no matter what it was.
But would he do this?
He stood there with that broody expression you swore was permanent, the look in his dark brown eyes as unreadable as ever. He was like a statue. A big, broad, grumpy statute that communicated through grunts ninety percent of the time. He was the polar opposite of Billy in every way. While Billy was all designer labels, flirty charm, and a perfectly polished appearance, Frank was more rugged, a bit abrasive, and seemed to only own one pair of boots.
You were so completely dumbfounded, it took you a moment to stutter out an apology.
“I…God, Frank, I’m so sorry. I don’t…I have no idea why he-”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. How you want it?”
You weren’t sure what it was that sent the tingle down your spine; his blunt question, or the rough baritone of his voice. Had he always sounded like that? You couldn’t remember. He never said much to you, and maybe you’d never paid him much attention because he was so goddamn intimidating. He was also so quiet that sometimes you forgot he was even in the room, which seemed impossible, because how the hell do you miss a man that looks like he could snap you in half and build a house with his bare hands.
“W-What?”
“You gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”
All you could do was blink in bewilderment. Sweetheart. Oh, that shouldn’t have sounded as good as it did coming from his soft looking lips. Was he actually agreeing to this? Were you actually considering it? Was this a test? You looked over at Billy in utter astonishment, trying to gauge what he was thinking, but his attention had already drifted. He was typing something on his phone when he chimed in to fill your silence.
“She likes bein’ told what to do, Frankie. You’re gonna have to take the reins.”
“That right?”
Frank wasn’t looking at Billy. He was looking at you. And that stormy look in his eyes seemed to have eclipsed into something that made heat bloom in your lower belly. His eyes were roving over the long black wool coat like he could see right through it, lingering on the exposed skin of your legs before meeting your wide eyed gaze. He kept his eyes locked on you as he calmly sat down in one of the plush chairs, spreading his thick thighs wide.
“Show me what you got on under there, yeah?”
Part of you was still struggling to understand what was happening. That little voice in the back of your head was trying to tell you this was a bad idea, coming up with a million reasons to just walk out that door and question Billy in private later to figure out what the fuck he was thinking. But another part of you, a stronger part, wanted to be selfish and give into the aching hunger that was begging to be sated.
A toy could only do so much. A toy couldn’t bend you over and leave hand prints on your ass. A toy couldn’t pull your hair and whisper breathy praises. A toy couldn’t play with your nipples while it ate you out. You needed more.
“Don’t be shy now, baby. Be a good girl and do what you’re told.”
Billy’s further taunts aggravated you. He was the one who had been neglecting you, and now he had the audacity to tease you. He didn’t seem to care if you fucked Frank, so why should you? The way Frank was looking at you, even all covered up by your coat, he may have been following Billy’s orders, but he wanted it. He wanted you.
So fuck it.
This time when you let the coat slip off your shoulders, you got the reaction you wanted. A sharp intake of breath, a dilation of pupils, evidence of desire beginning to strain against a zipper. Frank shamelessly let his eyes travel up and down your body, his ravenous gaze meeting yours once again as he patted his thigh in a silent command you were all too eager to obey. He didn’t reach out and grab you once you were standing between his spread legs, he just stared up at you and patted his thigh again.
“Sit.”
Your fingertips lightly trembled as you reached your hands out to grab onto his broad shoulders, lowering yourself down to straddle his lap. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest, and the firm muscle beneath his shirt. You’d never been this close to him before. He smelled like mint and black coffee, and something…earthy. Something masculine. It made you dizzy.
“Are you gonna touch me?”
The edge of Frank’s mouth quirked up in a smirk as he tilted his head to the side a little, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“You want me to touch you?”
You gave a nod of your head, but that didn’t satisfy Frank.
“Use your words, pretty girl.”
Tightening your grip on his shoulders, you leaned in to brush your nose against his. You wondered if he could feel your heart pounding against his chest, and a needy noise you’d never heard yourself make escaped.
“Please just touch me, Frank. I don’t have the patience to beg-”
“Relax sweetheart, I ain’t gonna make you beg. Just makin’ sure you’re okay with this, that’s all.”
Frank lifted his hand to cradle your jaw. His hand was rough with calluses, and there was a lingering scent of gunpowder on his skin. He traced your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, and when your lips instinctively parted, he slipped two of his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your warm wet tongue. Letting out a soft noise, you licked at his fingers and started to suck, while his other hand found your hip and pulled you closer on his lap.
“That’s it, good girl.”
When he pulled you closer, it made you grind against the large bulge in his jeans, and the friction of rough denim against your thin damp lacy thong made your eyes flutter. The sound of his gravely voice granting you praise had you nearly on the brink of coming already. God, you probably could come like this, sucking on Frank’s fingers and dry humping him. Something told you that he probably wouldn’t mind.
When he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, there was a string of your saliva connected between his digits and your lips, stretching until it silently snapped. Slipping his hand down between your thighs, he hooked his finger into your thong and pulled it to the side, and the moment his slick fingers made contact with your wet pussy, it was like a jolt to your system and a sharp moan of relief escaped.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Frank leaned in to leave open mouthed wet kisses along your neck, not wasting any time in finding your aching clit and giving it the attention it craved. One of your hands found the back of his neck while your other gripped his shoulder, your nails sinking into his flesh beneath the fabric of his shirt. You could hear how wet you were, could hear the obscene sound of Frank’s fingers playing with your pussy, and it made you shudder.
“This what you wanted?”
The sound of your blood rushing in your ears and your own pleasure drowned out Billy’s voice in the background, talking to someone on the phone. You’d almost forgotten he was there. All you could focus on was Frank. The expert motion of his fingers, the sound of his alluring voice, the dedication to your pleasure. Unlike Billy, Frank didn’t hesitate to give you exactly what you wanted. No teasing, no games. It was impossible to not give into your selfish greed.
“Frank…more…”
“Yeah? Tell me what you want, pretty girl. Whatever you want, you can have it.”
Your hands slipped between your bodies, blindly fumbling for his belt buckle. Frank let out a quiet grunt and pulled back to look at you, a lazy smirk stretched over his lips.
“You wanna ride me, sweetheart?”
Clawing at the leather of his belt, you nodded breathlessly as you popped the button on his jeans, tugging at the zipper. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he lifted his hips to shove his jeans and briefs down just enough for his hard cock to spring free, giving your ass a firm smack.
“Well go on, then.”
As soon as you started to sink down onto him, your jaw went slack and your eyes nearly rolled. Frank was big, much bigger than Billy. His thick girth stretching out your tight cunt elicited a delicious symphony of pleasure and pain, and once he bottomed out, a strangled moan tore from your throat.
“Oh God-”
Behind you, Billy stopped pacing in front of the large floor to ceiling windows.
“Sorry, one sec. Frankie, keep her quiet, would ya?”
Billy’s voice sounded miles away in your head despite his presence behind you. When Frank clamped his palm over your mouth, a moan was muffled by his rough skin. You couldn’t explain why that turned you on even more, or why the thought of Billy watching you get fucked by his best friend while still doing business had you buzzing with exhilaration.
It should have made you feel guilty and ashamed, or at least that’s what you had expected to feel. Fucking Frank was one thing, but fucking him in front of Billy…it shouldn’t have been as exciting as it was. Maybe a twisted part of you got satisfaction from it. Even though Billy was the one that had suggested it, in your mind it was his punishment for neglecting you. Then again…maybe Billy didn’t see it that way. Maybe he wanted to watch. You couldn’t see him straddling Frank’s lap like this, but you could feel his eyes on you. You knew he was watching.
Like a lightning strike, a sudden spark of realization shocked your system, illuminating something you hadn’t been able to put together at first. Billy’s casual offer. Frank’s uninhibited acceptance. The weight of your boyfriend’s heated stare.
They’d done this before.
You weren’t sure if Billy just liked watching his best friend fuck his girlfriends, if they participated in regular threesomes, or what the deal was, but the nonchalant attitude they both had towards this situation made it very clear this was not some out of the blue occurrence. And that…well…that generated several different emotions and questions. You weren’t sure why, but that epiphany had you feeling more impetuous, more bold and eager to fully surrender to your intrinsic desires.
If Billy wanted a show, you’d give him a fucking show.
Tugging Frank’s hand away from your mouth, you leaned in for a messy top lip kiss, and his tongue instinctively sought yours out, inviting himself past your parted lips. The passion you normally resolved for your boyfriend was fully unleashed on Frank, and he willingly drowned in it. He gripped your hips with both hands now, guiding your rhythm as you rocked your hips against his, riding him harder and faster as you gained confidence. The feeling of his rough hands exploring your soft skin, kneading and squeezing, grabbing your ass and giving it encouraging spanks, it all had you moaning into his mouth.
“Fuck…Frank…”
“Yeah, baby? What is it?”
He murmured against your neck, trailing warm messy open mouthed kisses along your neck, nipping at your skin and flicking his tongue over your bitten flesh to soothe the sting.
Letting your head dip back to offer more of yourself to him, your eyes fluttered while continuing to roll your hips, alternating between bouncing on his cock and riding him at a more languid pace, fully indulging in having him inside you.
“It’s so fucking big…”
Frank nuzzled his large nose against the underside of your jaw, one of his hands gripping your waist while his other splayed over your lower back, gliding up and down your skin in a soothing caress.
“Takin’ it so well, yeah? You’re bein’ such a good girl, ain’t you?”
The wrecked whimper you let out in response had him letting out a quiet grunt, his tongue gliding over your lips which eagerly parted to seek out his kiss.
“Say it for me, sweetheart. Tell me you’re a good girl.”
Purely just to be a brat and get back at Billy for how he’d treated you for the past month, you wrapped both of your arms around Frank’s neck and fully pressed yourself against him, kissing him eagerly before moaning in pleasure.
“I’m your good girl.”
Billy was a jealous and possessive man by nature, which was a total juxtaposition to the fact that he shared his women with Frank. You weren’t sure what it was about Frank specifically that caused Billy to want to share, and maybe your little stunt wouldn’t make him jealous at all, but you knew Billy and you knew that praising Frank’s big dick and saying you were his girl had to appeal to Billy’s ego. Maybe he’d get pissed and make you pay for it later in bed. Maybe he’d feel challenged and join you and Frank.
Either way, you were getting what you wanted.
“Atta girl. Such a pretty…perfect…good girl. Ridin’ me so good, baby…you got the best pussy, you know that? Keep ridin’ me like that, you’re gonna make me come.”
The praise he whispered into your ear in his gravely voice, the filthy things that sounded so sweet from his soft lips, it was all driving you wild, and he grunted when he felt your cunt clenching around his cock.
He slipped his hand between your thighs, his thumb finding your swollen clit again, and before the wrecked moan could escape your lips, he clamped his other hand over your mouth again. Letting your head fall back, you gripped onto Frank’s shirt, clawing at it while he bucked his hips upwards, making you bounce on his cock as he fervently rubbed at your clit.
“C’mon sweetheart…I know you’re right there, yeah? Come for me, pretty girl.”
It suddenly felt like you’d been staring directly into the sun, your eyes fluttering as monochromatic confetti exploded behind your eyelids. The tension that had been tightly coiled within you was expelled instantly as you writhed on Frank’s lap, making a mess on his lap with a flood of euphoria. It felt like you were floating, your body buzzing with bliss, and Frank let out a breathy chuckle when you slumped against him.
“You still with us, darlin’?”
You hadn’t even heard Billy approach, but when he started to stroke your hair, the scent of his expensive cologne pulled you back to the present. It also made you suddenly aware of just how selfish you’d been. Pulling back to sit up, with Frank’s assistance, you looked at him in almost an apologetic daze.
“You didn’t-”
“Shh shh shh.”
Billy wrapped his hand around your throat as he pressed against you from behind, and you could feel his hard on nudging against your lower back. His thumb gently caressed your jaw as he bent down to kiss your temple. You kept your eyes on Frank, watching his broad shoulders rise and fall from how hard he was breathing, hearing the exertion in his heavy pants that escaped his parted lips, feeling his hands still holding your waist tightly, keeping you anchored to his lap.
“I think you should tell Frank thank you for bein’ so generous, don’t you, darlin’?”
Billy was already lifting you off of Frank’s lap, earning a quiet grunt from Frank when he slipped out of you, and a broken whine from you at the sudden emptiness you felt. Before you could protest, Billy lowered you down onto your shaky knees in front of Frank, your hands darting out to grip his thick thighs through his jeans to steady yourself. Frank’s cock was glistening with your juices, and he gathered your cream that had dripped down with the same two fingers he’d put in your mouth, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean, keeping eye contact with you the entire time. The noise you let out made Billy chuckle, and you heard the familiar jingle of a belt buckle and a zipper being undone.
“I think she likes sharin’, Frankie.”
Placing his hand between your shoulder blades, Billy made you bend over until Frank’s cock was right in your face, and you could feel the blunt head of his own cock notching at your drenched gaping entrance. Frank reached down and brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes still locked on you, a grin stretching across his mouth.
Steve had loved you since he first saw you, though he hadn’t realised it at the time. It was slow, like sunrise in winter, but when it did hit him it was with a blast of crystal clear clarity.
You were a dragonfly to him, bright and beautiful, but always darting here and there. The first thing he’d learned about you was that you were generous, giving away pieces of your loyalty as easily as other people gave away candy at Halloween. Steve had been frequenting a local diner for three months when you’d breezed in, greeting the owner like a friend and taking your breakfast burrito with a huge smile and a lingering scent of cinnamon. Just that one look and Steve had been hooked, but he’d been calm when he asked about you. Belinda, the owner, smirked at him,
“She’s the luckiest girl in the world, that one, but generous with it, a rare combination in today's day and age,” the older woman sighed, “she came into some money when she was twenty, but instead of doing whatever kids did with money back then, or hell even buying herself a house, she has spent the last decade - more! - helping out the businesses in this neighborhood.”
Belinda went on to explain a little more about you, how you’d become a bit of a legendary figure within the community, using the profits you gained from saving small businesses to pump more money back into those same businesses by being their best customer. A handful flatly refused to take any of your money, like Belinda,
“She’s going to eat here free for the rest of her life, and so will her kids, her grandkids, her ancestors. Nothing is too good for that girl as far as I’m concerned.” Belinda left Steve then after topping up his coffee cup alongside another knowing smirk.
The months went by, and Steve noticed you more and more around Brooklyn and Manhattan. Bright, bold, living life out loud. Like the dragonfly he could see in you, you never stayed still for long, apparently you didn’t work in the strictest sense, able to live a comfy life with the gains from your philanthropy, but you always came back to home with a smile. It made Steve happy for you, no one should dim that light.
One day, six months after he’d first seen you, he was back at the diner when you walked in to grab your usual breakfast burrito, when one of Belinda’s sons knocked into you accidently, sending you flying into Steve’s lap. The man apologised profusely, but when Steve caught the older woman's eyes, she gave him that knowing smirk again and walked back into the kitchen.
His nostrils filled with the scent of your cinnamon perfume as he looked down at you, “Are you okay?”
Your eyes bright, you quickly nodded, shifting to get up, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Spill my food on you? Can I get you a replacement? Anything!”
Steve laughed, stood up after you did and shook his head, “I’m fine, you didn’t spill anything-”
“Hey, Y/N, let me get you a new burrito, ma’ll kill me if I let you take that one after it fell on the floor,”
“No, that’s okay, you don’t- oh. Alright.” You stare after Belinda’s son as he ignores you and hustles to the back, turning amused eyes on Steve, “They’re good people here. But you knew that already.”
Steve raised an eyebrow, “You’ve seen me here?”
“Hard not to when the Captain America is a regular, the whole town talks about it,” you gesture to the seat opposite Steve, sliding into the booth when he nods, “I’ve been wanting to say hi for months, but I would’ve died a little if I’d made you feel uncomfortable. Now, the ice is well and truly broken, so we can be friends!”
“I don’t know, the pressure to be friends with someone who is the town saint is a little daunting,” Steve murmured, enjoying how your smile widened at his tease,
“Oh please, no one is more saintly than you, Mr Rogers,”
“Call me Steve?” He held your gaze, “I just want to be… Steve.”
You blink, your smile softening into something more genuine and open, “Sure, Steve. So… tell me all your gossip, I have a friend who is torn between being more attracted to Sam Wilson or Natasha Romanoff. Are they single?”
It was like that for a while. You were his genuine friend, someone who Steve called and text whenever he needed some low pressure friendship from, and you sent him pictures and videos from wherever in the world you’d travelled to. You would talk to him in a way that no one else did, not allowing him to get too mired in the past, taking him to new places, and showing him so much of New York that he never got to see when he was a kid, or could see now he was ‘the world's most famous old man.”
Your words.
It was around this time he knew for sure he loved you. Your kindness, your generosity, your wanderlust, it all made him care on a level inside him he didn’t know existed. He was certain you felt the same way, it was in the deeply held looks, the lingering touches, the way you said his name. You’d told him that you didn’t want a relationship early on, that you enjoyed your life too much to tie it to someone, and Steve appreciated how firm you’d been. Who was he to say what a woman could or couldn’t do?
But he was different. He knew it, and he knew you knew it too.
It was why, when he’d come to your birthday party over a year after he’d met you, Steve had been stunned into silence, his heart shattering,
“Steve! I’m so happy you’re here!” You’re a vision in a dress that moves like water over your body, heels clacking against the hardwood floor of your apartment, eyes bright with excitement. You’d never looked so beautiful. “I want you to meet Ben, my boyfriend!”
Steve watched you like he always did, you didn’t seem as effervescent as usual, even long after your birthday had passed. Your life - outgoing and vivacious - seemed to grind to a halt now Ben was with you. The hour long phone calls and frantic texting seemed to slow down as well, but every time Steve did manage to get a hold of you, you just said you were happy,
“Honestly, it’s amazing being like this with someone, Steve. I can be me. Ben has his own money, doesn’t care about mine, he’s just happy ordering takeout and talking until the sunrises, y’know?”
It hurt that you didn’t think that about him, but then, Steve had never given you the opportunity to, had he? He’d put his job first, his need to protect the world stronger than his devotion to you. The good side of him forced himself to let you go, to let you live your new life with Ben - a dumb name but who was he to judge? Steve promised himself to let you be happy, to let you live the life he hadn’t allowed you to have with him.
Until he saw your wrist in a brace.
Then, that was it.
You wake after what feels like a long time asleep, mouth dry and your head pounding like you were hungover. Your brain cells weren’t quite firing yet, and you frown, your hand going to your face and scrubbing more sleep away. You hadn’t gone drinking in months, not since Ben, and-
The remnants of sleep fall away abruptly and you bolt upright in the bed you find yourself in. You look down at your wrist, hissing when you lean on it without thinking, the damn sprain was taking forever to heal, but that’s what happens when you lift something too heavy for you. Ben had told you to wait for him to come home before you moved the antique set of shelves in your home office around, but you hadn’t listened and-
You blink again, realising that you’re not safe at home, your wrist is no longer in a brace, and you’re wearing a bed set that you would never pick yourself. The shorts were frilled, almost like bloomers but much higher up on your legs, and the top was another frothy looking concoction covered in lace and frills and-
Everything came rushing back, your heart pounding behind your ribcage.
This wasn’t your bed. These weren’t your clothes. The room surrounding you wasn’t your bedroom, and the man walking in the door wasn’t your boyfriend.
Ben was dead, killed in a car accident that Steve caused.
Steve thought Ben had hurt you, and so, he’d come to protect you.
“How are you feeling?”
Steve’s voice, deep and smooth like the drug laced whiskey he’d made you drink the night before, rolled over you, raising goosebumps on your skin. You quietly take stock of your body as he stares at you, unsure what he’d done as you’d been asleep. You felt okay, no pain at least, but that didn’t mean much.
You didn’t know how long you’d been in this beautiful dungeon, and you didn’t know how many times Steve had done whatever he wanted to you as you’d slept. He was careful not to make you hurt too bad, but you fought him every time he’d try to touch you when you were awake.
“How long was I out this time?”
“You know I won’t tell you that, sweetheart,” Steve closed and locked the door behind him, putting the key in a safe that needed his thumb print to open, “you hungry?”
You open your mouth to tell him no, but your stomach rumbles loudly, breaking a mounting tension filling the room like smoke. You cautiously get out of bed, knowing that Steve will expect you to cook for him now he knows you’re starving. This is why he’s keeping you down here, it’s what he told you when he first pulled you from the wreckage of Ben's car.
“Shhhh, I got you, he can’t hurt you anymore, sweetheart, I’ll keep you safe.”
The old-school-with-a-modern-twist looking lingerie made you cringe, but it was what Steve liked you to wear when you were up and about. He liked seeing your bare legs, the hint of cleavage and ass cheeks, especially as you couldn’t fight him off when he tried to touch you,
“Shhhh, I’m not going to hurt you,”
“Stop!”
“Let me look, sweetheart, stay still, shhhh….”
That had been maybe two nights after he’d locked you in here.
Nothing you’d said since he’d put you in your cage had changed his mind. You’d offered money. You’d promised that you would be his girlfriend if he’d let you go. You’d stripped and seduced him, sucking his dick and smiling as he came down your throat, telling him you loved him… only to wake up later having no idea how you’d been drugged, and your ass too sore to sit on for what felt like days afterwards.
“Don’t try to trick me, sweetheart, I always know. You’re going to fall in love with me naturally, whether you like it or not.”
The room was soundproofed heavily, so your steps sounded oddly muffled as you walked to the kitchenette, and looked inside the fridge. It was stocked up again, and you had to force a smile on your face as you turned to your make believe husband. He’d had you drugged so heavily you hadn’t even realised that he’d been in and out with groceries.
“What would you like to eat, honey?” The old school nickname fell easily from your lips, it was Steve’s favourite. He just pulled out a chair at the small table and shrugged,
“I’ll eat shortly. Just get yourself some fruit, Dragonfly.”
That nickname. You hated it. You weren’t a dragonfly anymore, you were just trapped, wings pinned.
Your smile disappears as you turn back to the fridge. He controlled everything, even what you ate, and you were not allowed much more than salad most days. At least they were some kind of premium, or more likely directly from a local farmer. You grab an apple and take it to the counter and hand it to Steve to cut up for you.
Obviously he wouldn’t let you near knives.
A minute later and you gratefully take a bite of the apple - scooping up some peanut butter with it from the jar out of your “treats cupboard” and sit down next to Steve as directed. Maybe it was the hunger, but you felt bold today and asked a question you didn’t expect him to answer,
“Where does everyone think I am? Do they think I died with Ben?” You take another bite, the apple breaking with a crack of sound. For a moment you think Steve won’t answer, his eyes are on your lips as you lick away the juice, but he surprises you,
“No, no one thinks you’re dead, Dragonfly. They all think you went away to deal with your grief over Ben. You did that often enough, taking trips away, that people believe the lie, and I figured out how to manipulate AI well enough to create convincing social media posts. You’re in Europe right now, by the way.”
You roll your eyes at “AI”. Steve knew you hated that. But then you frown, a headache starting to form,
“So… if they don’t think I’m dead…”
“Yes, they’ll be expecting you home sooner or later.” Steve tilts his head, a smile slowly forming, “Are you okay?”
You look at your hand holding the apple piece, willing it to move, but it won’t. There’s fear like nothing you’ve ever known coursing through your body, but nothing happens. Your heartbeat is almost too slow, and your body is too heavy to move. You’re frozen.
“They know you’ve been in contact with me whilst you travel. I’ve even gone away and seen you a couple of times, and you’re getting happier. Missing him less and less. He was drunk anyway.”
Anger is like a storm inside you, but you can’t move.
“Belinda is already muttering about seeing you walk into the diner with me when you come home. Probably in another year or so. That’ll be enough time to make you love me, and to get you pregnant.”
He’s moving you as he speaks, peeling off your top and caressing your now exposed breasts. You can’t fight him off, and you can’t escape the insidious feelings. A small whine escapes as he lifts you enough to bend you over in front of him,
“Shhh… this is my next step, sweetheart. I’ve been waiting for you to get to that damn peanut butter,” his voice is idle as he spreads your cunt open with his fingers, his breath warm against your flesh, tongue cold as he laps at you in between words, “I can't keep fucking you when you sleep, you aren’t getting acclimatised to my touch, you aren’t learning to crave me. It was just selfishness of me, that’s all.”
His fingers are inside you now, pressing against the spot that you had assumed was a myth before Steve captured you. There’s no escaping the orgasm he pulls out of you, nor can you get away from the next three he makes you have against his mouth and hands before he stands up over you.
The sound of his zipper being pulled down is louder than thunder.
“You’re going to learn to want me, sweetheart. You’ll love me, and you’ll love all the babies I put inside you… after the one already in there comes out, of course.”
Steve pushes inside you, the stretch a burn even after all of the pleasure he’d forced on you. The tears that fall are as silent as you. Trapped in amber.
The lights pulsed overhead, red and blue and pink and green. Neon colours and loud music that rang in your bones, kept your skin hot and slick with your own sweat and made the muscles on Bucky's chest shine with an unearthly light as you rode him in the private section of the club he’d taken you to tonight.
Your dress was already short, it rode up easily over your hips as he’d swayed with you on the dance floor, and you’d tried to pull it back down, cover the cheeks of your ass, but he’d been so insistent. You’d been vying for a date with the eligible bachelor Bucky Barnes for weeks, the fact that he clearly wanted you so badly had pushed your reservations from your head all too easily.
Then he’d taken your hand, pulled you so close to him that you could feel his heartbeat over the bass of the music and kissed you like a man possessed. You’d been weak, so weak, it had taken no effort for him to pull you to the VIP section, and make you straddle him, immediately pulling your dress down at the top and yanking the bottom up to your waist. His fingers were insistent at your core, and you came on a surprised yelp that no one heard.
No one cared. Not when this billionaire could buy and sell the place, easily.
His hands go to the cheeks of your ass, pulling and groping, and you don’t care that you feel eyes on the most intimate and vulnerable part of you. All you care about is that his cock is out and he is pushing his way inside of you…
“Squeeze me, baby, squeeze my cock, god you’re so fucking tight, fuck!”
You ride harder, moaning when his palms pull you apart, making the angle that much deeper, smoother,
“Look at her, guys, look at how my new whore rides her king.”
You feel them then. His friends at your back. They surround you, three more cocks on all sides and you realise that you’re not here as Bucky's date. You’re here as his next captive.
I love the idea of alpha mafia Bucky bc I know he must have gone INSANE mal broke up with him
He was damn near feral without her. His business flourished, mostly because he channeled all his energy to destroying his rivals. Bucky was miserable and livid, and his attitude was infectious. No one wanted to be around him.
The guys all debated if they should go to her and convince her to come back.
The only thing holding them back was the fear that if she left again, Bucky would become even worse.
Then there was the night of the incident and well...Bucky went from damn near feral to feral.
Ok but you can’t tell me this wasn’t Bucky while Malyshka was pregnant with Bee. Especially during the end, he was so eager to hold his little Bumblebee. He just couldn’t believe that the woman he loved more than life was the one keeping him from his daughter (except it’s not her fault that Bee is trapped inside her mama’s belly)😂
Bucky loved her baby bump, he was constantly talking to baby Bee and kissing her belly. Bucky never missed a chance to tell her how beautiful she was and lucky he was that she was carrying their baby.
And of course he couldn't help teasing her once in a while, grumbling playfully that she was keeping little Bee all to herself.
He kept telling Bee she was going to have spend extra time with him to make up for all the time they were apart (that used to make Malyshka laugh because no matter how much she tried to reason with him, he would respond by adding on more time).
No permission is given from me to feed my work in to an A.I. generator!
I block only “likes”! No shade to you personally, but you should support creators of all kinds. <–At the moment I’m not on enough to do this anymore, lol. I’ll just ask and hope it’s understood that reblogging helps those who create content on tumblr.
Minors Do Not Interact
The entirety of my stories, which are many, can be found at my AO3 account. All warnings are included. Proceed at your own will.
Likes are whatever on tumblr. REBLOG.
Black Authors Masterlist - From my original blog, remade via my hobby blog and now here. Have fun!
