pairing: mafia!stucky x reader (poly), john walker x reader but not for long
word count: 6.4k
summary: your lousy boyfriend John Walker owes quite a bit of money to some pretty shady people. And since he doesn’t have the means to pay, he’s brought you along to a negotiation to meet them - and hopefully entice them into accepting a different form of payment.
warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con kind of, a tiny bit of stalking/dark behavior (it’s only hinted at), voyeurism i guess?, vaginal fingering, oral (f & m receiving), threesome, poly relationship, petnames (princess, kitten, beautiful), daddy kink, sir kink, unprotected p in v, a little bit of misogyny (not from stucky), not john walker friendly, mentioned verbal abuse, mention of murder (you have to squint and turn your head 90 degrees)
a/n: this is based off this post and @crazyunsexycool ‘s very amazing comments (title is from ‘suburbia’ by devon again)
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“It’s simple, really.” The men across from you have been staring you down this whole time, eyes barely leaving your body and that’s only to occasionally glance at the man sitting next to you. And though they’re looking at you, you know their words aren’t directed your way. No. It’s for John.
John Walker; your shitty boyfriend who, apparently, has got himself into a lot of trouble with some pretty shady people. You don’t know much, you just know that he has a debt to pay and he doesn’t have the funds.
And you’re not stupid, you know how this will go. Your relationship with John started good, great in fact, but then he fell back into his old gambling ways a few months in. You wanted to leave, to kick him to the curb the moment he asked you for money to cover some bills. But you were too kind-hearted for your own good and felt the need to help him just because you loved him. But the deeper into trouble he’s gotten the less he’s actually cared about you, too focused on getting his debts paid off so he doesn’t get a bullet in his head.
Thus, you’re here. Forced to wear that dark red, wrap-around dress that shows just enough to be desired in the hopes that will entice the men across from you into accepting a different form of payment. Fifteen minutes into the ‘meeting’ you can already tell that they’re going to accept. And you don’t really know what to do in this situation, you know you don’t really have a say in how this plays out, but some part of you doesn’t really mind. Part of you is glad you’ll finally be free from John’s bullshit.
It just helps that the men your boyfriend owes money to are extremely attractive. Both men don dark black suits, white button-ups, and sleek black ties. And the brunette - Bucky, maybe? - smirks when he catches your eye after having been staring at his hand grasping a cigarette for a few moments before glancing up at his face. With a wink, he turns his head towards his partner - Steve, if you remember correctly.
“You owe us quite a bit of money, but you already knew that. We also know that you don’t have the means to pay us.”
From beside you, you can feel John shaking in his seat. With just a glance in his direction, you can see the beads of sweat forming around his hairline at Steve’s commanding tone.
“We’re assuming that’s why you brought her, isn’t it?” With that question, both men look back at you, the hunger in their eyes is prominent. And part of you wants to cower in your chair, to wrap your arms around your body and hide from their intense gazes. But a bigger part of you likes it, craves being desired. Lord knows John hasn’t looked at you like that in a long while.
“Um,” John stops himself, seems to not know what exactly to say. But then Bucky raises one of his eyebrows and John is quick to continue. “Y-Yes, sirs.”
Steve hums, bringing up his glass to take a long sip of his liquor of choice. Bucky takes a short drag of his cigarette before speaking up.
“And if we don’t accept the arrangement?”
John starts really vibrating out of his seat now, both of his legs bouncing furiously. One of his hands rubs over the back of his other, and he gulps loudly.
“I-I don’t… Please. I don’t have the money right now. And, she’s good in bed. She’ll listen to whatever you say, so she’ll please you guys whenever you need, she can even cook and clean so she can be a maid for you too.”
His words make you want to vomit, talking about you like you’re nothing more than a whore, a piece of meat to be passed around and commanded. Your eyes narrow, glaring over at your asshole boyfriend as you begin to pick at your fingernails with a mixture of anxiety and anger.
Steve surprises you by slamming his glass down onto the dark oak desk in front of him, some of the liquid inside spilling out.
“And what makes you think you can talk about a woman like that?” His voice is booming, and the tension in the air is palpable. It’s hard to hide the smile that wants to spread across your face, but you manage to not show your smugness when John sits up straight and begins sputtering out an apology.
“Enough,” Bucky says, taking another long drag and then putting out the cigarette. As he exhales out the smoke, he makes sure to blow it in your boyfriend’s direction, and you have to look down at your lap to prevent the men from seeing your smirk at the show of dominance.
With a glance at his partner, they seem to have a silent conversation before Steve nods, looking back at John while Bucky looks at you.
“We’ll accept. If nothing else then to get her away from you.”
Even with the passive-aggressive comment, you can see the way John’s body visibly relaxes, and can hear the sigh of relief that passes through his lips.
You on the other hand don’t quite know what to do. Yeah, you’re glad you’ve found a way out of this toxic relationship, but you’re also very aware that this major adjustment in your life was made without your consent or input. This thought immediately makes all the satisfaction drain from your body, and you keep your gaze averted so the men across from you can’t see the underlying fear growing in your eyes.
Because you don’t know these men. You’ve never even heard of them until now. All you know is that anyone connected to the dark underworld that is the mafia couldn’t possibly be a good person. For a moment, you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t realize all of the men are staring at you.
“Wh-What?” Your throat is a little dry due to not having spoken in a while, and you try your hardest not to let your voice waver.
“Are you okay with this?” Steve asks with an uncharacteristically soft smile and calm voice. He’s asking you how you feel about this? Why? Shouldn’t this be the end, the part where your boyfriend leaves and you uproot your life to live as payment for his debts?
Apparently not.
“Why are you asking me?” Confusion is laden in your tone, your eyebrows furrowing and your fingers picking at your nails even harsher.
“Because, beautiful,” Bucky starts, waving to a red-headed woman who suddenly appears with water for you. “We don’t want you thinking this is purely transactional. You’re not property, you’re a grown woman and you deserve to have a say in your life. If you don’t want to come with us, that’s okay. We’ll extend our contract with your dear boyfriend.”
Steve speaks up next.
“But if you do want to come with us, we’ll show you how real men treat ladies.” His eyes grow hungry for half a second, then return to that unnerving adoring gaze.
Everything grows silent for a moment, everyone awaiting your answer. As you look over at John, his face is contorted in fear of what they’ll do if you deny them, and anger - silently demanding that you say yes. And, looking over at him, you finally realize he’s never been who you thought he was. Even when he was being an asshole, when he would steal from you, when he would yell and scream and verbally abuse you because he lost even more money, you were so blinded by trying to help him that you couldn’t accept that you were being used.
Now, you know. You know that even if you don’t know these men, the fact that they’re even asking for your opinion says more than anything John could ever do. With one final look at him, you sigh, looking Steve in the eyes.
“I’ll go with you.”
Not only does John visibly relax, but you can see some of the tension leave Bucky and Steve’s bodies, almost like they were hoping that you would say yes.
“It’s settled then.” Steve’s smile turns into a sly smirk, and he momentarily shifts his gaze to John. “Your debt has been paid.”
John tries thanking him, tries to thank the men for sparing his life, but Bucky cuts him off by clearing his throat.
“Don’t think you’re getting away with that comment, though.”
With that, Steve nods at the redhead who comes to stand behind John. In one swift movement, she puts one hand on his shoulder and one hand grabs the inside of his elbow, and she twists. The sounds of his bones cracking are loud, but his screams are louder, his cries of pain reverberating throughout the office. And, as much as you want to feel bad for him, you can’t find it in you to do so. The last two years have been hell for you, and seeing him in pain feels a little like payback for all the pain he caused you. You simply sit there and stare as the woman grabs both of his shoulders and hauls him up, ignoring his cries while dragging him to the door.
The woman follows him out, leaving just you and the two men. For a moment, neither of you speaks, almost like you’re all waiting for the other person to say something.
“So, um. What happens now?” You look at Bucky as he stands and walks around the desk, holding his hand out and encouraging you to grab it. Once you do, you let him help you stand and move you so you’re nearly pressed against his body, a heavy, black metal hand settling on your waist as he brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles.
“Now we take you home,” Bucky says softly, staring deep into your eyes and tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.
“We’ll have our associates pick up your things,” Steve says, suddenly standing so close behind you that you can feel the heat from his body. His large hands settle on your shoulders, gently massaging your muscles and allowing any remaining tension in your body to slip away.
“And you won’t have to worry about anything for the rest of your life.” Bucky presses his body against yours further, holding your gaze for a long while before he leans down to place a delicate kiss on your cheekbone, very close to your ear. “Your only concern will be taking care of us, and letting us take care of you.”
In order to not moan you have to clear your throat, focusing all of your attention on not melting into a puddle at their feet. Steve leans down to place a kiss on your other cheek, sighing softly as though he’s been waiting for this. You hesitantly place one hand on Bucky’s arm and one on Steve’s hand, and he immediately threads your fingers together.
“Home?” Bucky asks, pulling away to look into your eyes.
“Home,” You say without a second thought, already liking the idea of being with them, being theirs.
____________
You all get back to their mansion, because of course they live in a mansion, about an hour later. It’s in a woodsy and remote area of upstate New York with no neighbors for a good two miles, and upon driving through the gates and down the long driveway your eyes go wide, everything is just so big. The fountain in the front yard stands almost as tall as the three-story house, several expensive-looking cars are parked off to the left near what you assume is the garage, and you’re pretty sure you can spot a greenhouse in the backyard.
As soon as the car is stopped two men appear on either side of it, opening the doors for Steve and Bucky and letting them step out. A woman - the same redhead from earlier - comes up to your door and opens it, reaching out her hand and guiding you out.
“I’m Natasha,” She says with a welcoming smile on her face. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“What do you mean ‘finally’?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, jumping slightly when an arm wraps around your waist.
“It’s nothing, beautiful.” When you look up at Bucky, you see him giving Natasha a look that you can tell is a silent demand to stop talking. Then, he turns to you, pulling you close to his side. “Come on, let’s get you settled in.”
Despite a spark of uneasiness popping up, you walk with him, Steve appearing by your other side and taking your hand in his and once again threading your fingers together. He gives you a warm smile, squeezing your hand. “We’ll give you a tour later, for now, we just want you to relax.”
As you walk through the entrance, your eyes open even wider than before. Not only is the foyer huge, but the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling illuminates the area beautifully and your heels make clicking noises on the pristine tile floor. You let your eyes wander as you walk up the grand staircase, admiring the artwork on the walls while you’re led through a large living area and down a hallway to a door.
And when they open it, dear lord you just want to scream. It’s bigger than the one-bedroom apartment that you shared with John. There’s a huge canopy bed off to the left, a massive TV mounted on the opposite wall, and a reading nook against the floor-to-ceiling window with a long bookshelf on the wall next to it - ending a few feet from the bed. There’s plants hanging from the ceiling and potted ones in each corner of the room, and an open door off to the right gives you a peak at what must be the bathroom but resembles more of a spa.
It’s absolutely gorgeous and it makes you feel at home.
“How do you like it?” Steve asks, both men tugging and leading you further into the room when they notice you’ve frozen while taking everything in.
“I love it,” You say quickly, smiling at them as you walk towards the bed so you can run your fingers along the silk bed sheets. “It’s beautiful.”
“Good.” Bucky appears behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin on your shoulder. “You deserve beautiful things.”
Butterflies erupt in your stomach, warmth filling your body. These men are already showing you more affection than John had during your entire relationship, and it simultaneously hurts your heart that you stayed with an ungrateful and uncaring man for so long while also making you happy that you’ve fallen into the laps of men with high standards of how to treat a woman.
“We’ll let you rest up, now.” Steve comes up to you and works his arm between your back and Bucky’s body so he can hold your waist. He leans down and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, bringing up his other hand to cradle your head so he can really breathe in your scent.
“Wait.”
Immediately Bucky and Steve pull away, and when you turn around and look up at them you can see the concern written on their face.
“This is my room?”
Bucky nods, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yes. Is it okay? We can redecorate if you want, just tell us what you like and we’ll do it.”
You shake your head, placing one hand on Bucky’s chest and the other on Steve’s.
“N-no. No, I love it. I just thought…” You trail off, biting your lip. You’re not too sure how to phrase your thoughts, but you try your hardest when the men continue to stare at you. “I guess I just thought you would want me to sleep in your room.”
Bucky sighs and pulls you close, placing one hand on the back of your head while Steve saddles up beside him to grasp your hip.
“While we would absolutely love having you in our bed,” Bucky stops to swipe his tongue along his bottom lip and you have to fight the urge to lean up on your toes to bite it. “We’re not going to force you to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“We know this is a big adjustment,” Steve says, smiling down at you when you look at him. “So we don’t want to make you do something that would make you uncomfortable.”
The men go silent, as do you, allowing you to process their words. They’re right, of course. This is all so new for you, and even though you’re more than ready - you’ve been deprived of physical contact and a good orgasm for a while - you know it wouldn’t be a good decision to jump into a relationship like this so soon after leaving your ex.
Fuck good decisions.
“What if…” You trail off, biting your lip nervously. Deciding to be bold, you trail the hand on Bucky’s chest up until you can cup his cheek, smiling when he turns his head and kisses your palm.
“What if I do want to?” You glance over at Steve, batting your eyelashes and fighting the shiver that wants to run through your body when he groans, low and utterly sexy.
“And what exactly is it that you want?” Bucky asks, his voice dropping while moving his free hand to your back, slowly inching down until he can rest it on your ass, but not squeezing.
“I -“ Suddenly a whine is forced out of your mouth when Steve moves your hair and leans down so he can kiss and nibble at your neck. “Steve!”
Then, Bucky dips down while pulling your head closer to his so he can press a searing kiss on your lips, swallowing your moan as he squeezes and kneads your ass.
“Tell us what you want, kitten,” Steve murmurs, biting and sucking a dark bruise on your neck and laughing when you pull away from Bucky’s lips with a huff.
“I - fuck.” Your whining is bordering on desperation. The lack of physical and sexual contact for the last few months has finally caught up to you, and you’re about to cry with how needy you feel. “I want you to fuck me.”
Both men curse, Steve nodding but not removing his mouth from the column of your throat. And maybe if your head wasn’t already fogged over with desire you’d have heard Bucky’s muttered “finally.” As it is though, you don’t pay attention to anything other than their hands caressing and groping your body, the men working in tandem to strip you of your dress and lay you flat on your back in the middle of the bed.
Both men stand at the end of the bed, staring at you with dark lust in their eyes as Bucky palms his crotch. They stare for so long that you start to get self-conscious, wondering what they’re thinking. It was always quick with John, he never really focused on your pleasure but rather worried about getting himself off and asking with an infuriatingly smug grin if it was good. It never was, but you never told him that, you hate confrontation. So it’s a little unnerving to have sex be drawn out, to be the center of attention - and the attention coming from the two hottest men on the planet makes you squirm uncomfortably. You’re about to cover yourself with your arms when Bucky kneels on the bed and grabs one of your wrists, Steve appearing next to you so he can grab your other one.
“Don’t,” Bucky says hoarsely, a determined look in his eyes. “Don’t hide from us, kitten.”
An involuntary moan forces its way up your throat and out of your mouth, and you find yourself agreeing with a quick nod. “I-I’m sorry,” You whine, arching into Steve’s hand that has now found a home on your covered breast.
“Don’t be sorry, princess,” Steve murmurs trailing his hand from your breast to your neck, toying with the necklace John had given you on your sixth-month anniversary. You haven’t taken it off since, it felt like a mark of ownership. And at first, it felt good, you loved knowing you were John’s girl. However, as the relationship progressed and worsened with every day, it felt more like a chain, weighing you down and forcing you to stay tethered to him. Yes, it had occurred to you to take it off a few times, but you weren’t ready for it to end. Even though it was an extremely toxic relationship, you had nowhere to go.
“Did he give you this?” Steve asks, disdain clear in his voice. And when you nod, he hovers over you, smirking as he grips the necklace and pulls, the chain snapping in two as he flings it across the room. Ignoring your shocked gasp, Steve and Bucky lean back and get off the bed, resuming their earlier position near the end of it.
“She’s perfect, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs after a long moment of silence. Putting a hand on the back of his partner’s neck, he yanks him forward, pulling him into a downright filthy kiss that makes your legs immediately squeeze shut to relieve the growing ache in your core.
At your loud and needy whine, they pull away, both men working in sync to get undressed and hurry to lay on either side of you. Both of them have kept their boxers on, but the very large bulge straining against the fabric does absolutely nothing to hide their arousal.
“Are you sure you want this?” Bucky asks, and even though you can hear the desperation in his voice, you know deep in your bones that they would stop if you said no. And that just further cements your decision, you need them, you need to feel them and kiss them and have them worship you in ways John could never.
“I’m sure, Bucky.”
“Call me ‘Daddy’, princess,” He says, reaching up a hand and placing it on your throat. He doesn’t choke you, but the pressure lets you know that he wants to.
“I’m sure, Daddy.”
Bucky groans as though he’s been punched in the gut, and his hips jerk forward, rubbing his erection into your thigh. He dives down and captures your lips in a heated kiss, momentarily distracting you from everything around you. That is until you feel a hand travel down your stomach, ignoring your underwear and slipping inside to quickly cup your wet and aching pussy.
Pulling away, you let out another gasp, your gaze immediately shooting to your left to see Steve’s very smug smirk.
“Feel good?” He asks as he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly moving his middle finger up and down your slit until he finally pushes through, slipping the thick digit into your quivering hole all the way to the third knuckle.
“Oh God, yes! Yes, Steve.” He pulls his finger out momentarily, only to shove in two fingers - once again pushing in all the way.
“Sir,” Steve growls, leaning down to nibble at your ear. His gravely chuckle when you mumble, “Yes, sir,” sends tingles down your spine, and you’re near tears with how good but not enough his fingers feel.
“I-I need…” You trail off, whining pathetically when Steve removes his fingers again. You whine even louder when Steve pulls his hand out of your panties altogether, letting you see his fingers covered in your juices glinting in the moonlight. The sight doesn’t last long, because Bucky immediately dips down to suck on them, both men groaning in pleasure. The brunette doesn’t swallow though, he actually lets the fingers slip free from his mouth so he can capture his partner’s lips, letting Steve taste you too.
“Fuck,” You whimper, hands automatically tugging at both of their boxers in an attempt to move things along. “Please just fuck me already.”
They separate from each other, grinning wolfishly at each other for a moment before glancing down at your cute pout and pleading eyes.
“What’s the rush?” Steve asks, dipping down to give you a brief kiss. “We’ve got all night.”
Thankfully, though, they get with the program, maneuvering your body to their liking until your bra and panties are also discarded. And you’re about to undo the strap on your heels before Bucky grabs your ankle, shaking his head in disapproval.
“You’re keeping these on.” His command sends shivers down your spine, and you can’t even speak anymore with how turned on you are. Despite this, you somehow manage to whisper, “Yes, Daddy.”
“That’s good,” Steve says, moving to kneel on the bed next to your head while he palms his bulge with one hand and squeezes your cheeks between his fingers with the other. “You’re going to be a good girl for us, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir!” You say enthusiastically, nodding your head as best as you can. And due to Steve holding your head in place, you can’t see what Bucky is doing, but you feel your legs being pushed wide open as the bed dips between them.
“Good,” Steve mutters mostly to himself, giving you an unnervingly soft smile for the situation. “Now, Bucky’s been dying to taste you since he first laid eyes on you, so you’re going to let him worship your pussy while I fuck your mouth. Okay?”
If you weren’t already drunk with pleasure, this would’ve been the thing to send you under. His commanding tone and the heat of Bucky’s mouth so close to your dripping core already have you on edge, ready to snap at the slightest touch. And when you nod, Steve turns to his partner, nodding once and smirking when he dives in, parting your pussy lips and licking a long stripe from your hole to your throbbing clit, where he then sucks it into his mouth.
The borderline scream you emit is so loud you’d be surprised if anyone on this floor didn’t hear it, but it’s quickly muffled by Steve shoving his boxers down and easing his cock into your gaping mouth. Now, you’ve never really liked giving head - well, with John anyway. He was always too rough, and the fact that he never returned the favor made it seem more like a chore than anything.
But you could definitely get used to this. Steve’s girth stretches your lips wider than ever before, and even through the haze of pleasure, you can tell that he’s holding back, letting you get used to the stretch. It doesn’t take long, and a particularly rough nip to your clit has you sucking Steve’s cock further into your mouth, and the man curses above you.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” Steve sighs, rocking his hips forward ever so slightly. When he finds little resistance, he pulls back and pushes in a little further, groaning deep in his chest when you bring up a hand to tug at his balls.
“Taste so fuckin’ good too, princess,” Bucky mumbles against your pussy, pulling away only briefly so he can easily slide two metal fingers in as deep as they could possibly go. It’s clear that his goal is to make you cum, and you’re not that far off. To be frank, your arousal has been building from the moment you met them, and they are not disappointing.
It only takes a few more thrusts of Bucky’s fingers and Steve’s hand coming down to wrap around your throat for you to cum - your cunt spasming and hips thrusting up into Bucky’s face as you chase your high. Soon enough, both men retreat from your body, giving you a short reprieve while they rid themselves of their underwear. Steve moves you so he can lay back against the headboard, adjusting your position so you can rest in between his legs with your back against his chest while Bucky hovers over you.
“Now, princess,” He murmurs, just loud enough for both of you to hear him, and taps your arm. “You’re going to hold onto Stevie while I ruin this pussy. Then, he’s goin’ to fuck my cum back into you.”
“Oh God yes, yes please, Daddy!” If your mind wasn’t deep in the pits of desire you’d probably be embarrassed by how needy you are, maybe even ashamed. Right now, though, you can’t imagine feeling anything but pure pleasure and happiness.
It all happens so fast, Steve grabbing the backs of your thighs so he can spread them wide and Bucky quickly following by pushing his cock - easily the longest you’ve ever taken - halfway into your cunt. He stops there for a moment, letting you get used to the sudden stretch before surprising you by pulling out until his tip is only poking in.
You’re frustrated, extremely so, and you’re pretty sure you’ll cry if he doesn’t fill you back up. And you’re about to start whining when the man above you thrusts forward, burying his cock so deep in your pussy that you swear you could feel him in your throat. Deep and guttural groans fill the air, a metal hand grasping your thigh and keeping it spread so Steve can wrap his arm around your midsection and hold you close while the pace quickly picks up.
And you’re in heaven, this must be heaven. Because in no other plane of existence would the two most handsome men in the world be touching and gripping you like you’re a priceless gem they’re afraid to lose. From behind you, Steve groans every time Bucky pushes into you, forcing you to shift in Steve’s lap and subconsciously grind into his throbbing erection.
“Fuck, kitten,” Bucky mutters, bracing one hand on the headboard and dropping your leg so he can grab your throat, squeezing the sides and forcing you to look into his eyes - dark with a desire you’ve never known. But there’s something else there, something primal that no ordinary man could have, a sense of possessiveness and ownership that seeps out of his pores.
You can’t do anything except moan, your mouth parting wider to let out a scream when Bucky shifts slightly, thrusting and hitting that special spongey spot deep within you dead on.
“She’s perfect, isn’t she Stevie?”
“Fuckin’ perfect,” Steve says softly, running the hand he has on your stomach down to your pussy to rub at your hole, feeling where you and his partner are connected. “Always knew she would be.”
Thankfully for them, those words fly over your head. You’re already too fucked-out to think properly, do you even know what your name is?
When Steve swiftly moves his fingers to your clit, your answer is a confident no. All you can seem to focus on are these two men and the immense pleasure they’re giving you. And it takes only a few more thrusts for you to feel that coil in your tummy wind tighter and tighter.
“Is she gonna cum?” Steve asks cockily, noticing the way Bucky’s hips stutter and his brow furrows. Reaching up, Steve grabs the back of his partner’s neck and pulls him in for a rough and messy kiss - mainly tongue and teeth. When they pull away, Bucky is nearly breathless, and you can hear the cockiness in his voice when Steve tells him, “Make her. Come on, baby. Fucking fill her up so I can.”
Those words - coupled with the fingers rubbing your clit, the pressure on your neck, and the cock that’s currently rearranging your guts - make you cum harder than you’ve ever. It doesn’t even really feel like an orgasm, it’s better than that. Something squirts out of your pussy with every forward thrust, and if it weren’t for being sandwiched between the two buffest men to ever exist then you’d be positive you were floating off into the clouds.
Bucky follows soon after, a loud groan of your name filling the room before his hips are flush with yours. Vaguely, you can feel his seed filling your womb, coating your insides, and it takes a full minute for Bucky’s breathing to even out. When he finally regains his composure, he leans back, holding your hips steady and chuckling at the glazed look in your eyes.
“Ready for me to pull out, kitten?” The answer he gets is a mumbled and pitiful “no”, which he laughs at, affectionately patting your hip. “Sorry, princess, we have to let Stevie have his turn.”
With that, he nods to Steve, who reaches over to the nightstand and procures a phone, handing it to Bucky. Bucky places his metal hand on the inside of your right thigh, holding it in place while he goes to the camera app on his phone.
“Okay, princess, gonna pull out now.” With his phone aimed at your hips, he slowly pulls out, hissing quietly but not stopping until his cock finally slips free. He moans softly, and when you finally manage to lift your head enough to see what he’s doing you see the phone leaning closer, capturing the no doubt obscene view of his cum dripping out of your hole. Bucky takes a few pictures and then tosses the phone back to Steve, who places it back on the nightstand.
The men shift, maneuvering your limp body until you’re laying flat on your back with Steve kneeling on the bed between your legs while Bucky stands off to the side, gripping his still-hard cock.
“Alright, beautiful,” Steve says, adjusting a pillow underneath your hips. “You ready for me?”
It takes a second to process his words, but when you do you nod your head as fast as you can, nearly giving you whiplash. You don’t care though, all you care about is the delicious stretch in your core as Steve pushes in slowly.
“Fuck, kitten,” Steve growls, stopping when his crotch is flush against yours with his pubic bone pressing against your clit. He grinds his hips against yours, the stimulation to your clit making you whine loudly.
Steve is drastically different from Bucky, he fucks you slow and sweet, though no less forceful, reaching deep in your pussy until you can barely gasp for air. When your head lolls to the side, you see Bucky stroking his cock in time with Steve’s thrusts, and, without thinking, you reach for him, beckoning him forward until he’s close enough that you can wrap your hand around it. Both men moan, and Bucky brings up his flesh hand and cups one of your breasts, kneading the flesh and rubbing over your nipple, pinching and twisting just right so it’s bordering on a delicious kind of pain.
Then, a loud smack rings through the air, Steve’s hips jerking forward almost immediately after.
“Pick it up, babe,” Bucky says with a smirk, chuckling at Steve’s agitated look, but he does so nonetheless.
Steve starts fucking you with intent, slamming into you at a borderline inhuman speed - and you don’t know how it’s possible but the orgasm building in your core seems to be more intense than the last. And after a few more thrusts, you’re plunged into the dark abyss of pleasure - mind going blank as a loud sob rips through your throat.
It’s an indeterminate amount of time later when you regain consciousness, and this time you don’t recognize the room you’re in. It takes a few moments for you to shake the fogginess out of your mind enough to notice that you’re alone in the large bed, and when you raise your head to look around the room you can’t see Bucky or Steve. But the pictures of the two of them and friends scattered throughout the space show you that this is their room.
“Bucky?” You call softly, your eyebrows furrowing when you hear no reply. Stretching your arms above your head, you force yourself out of bed - noticing that you’re now covered with a large shirt that smells a lot like Steve’s cologne. You go into the bathroom to find it empty, then wander to the large walk-in closet - again, empty.
Where are they?
“Steve?” You say a little louder, tentatively opening the bedroom door and peeking out, finding the hallway empty and quiet. There’s a spark of uneasiness that ignites in your stomach, though you try to stomp it out by reasoning with yourself - they’re busy men, after all.
When you look to your right, you see a set of double doors at the end of the long hallway, and something in you tells you to check there. As you walk down to the doors, more uneasiness pops up, it just feels a little too quiet. But the closer you get you can start to hear whispers, and they become more prominent when you stop right outside the doors. Bits and pieces of conversation flow through the wood.
“I want him gone within the hour.”
“Off the bridge.”
“They won’t find him.”
But one line hits you differently.
“Don’t let her find out.”
Your curiosity is extremely peaked, and it takes all of your willpower to bring your hand up to knock. You feel a little like you’re intruding, but you’re too confused to not impose.
The door opens a few moments later, though it’s only cracked halfway, and Steve appears in the doorframe.
“Hello, beautiful,” He says sweetly, reaching out a hand to hold your hip. “Why don’t you go back do bed, hm? I’ll be right there.”
“But, Buck-”
“Is just dealing with a few things. We had to deal with a business related issue, but he’ll join us when he’s done.” Steve is calm, and the soft look in his eyes is enough to quell any anxiety you were feeling. You’re not sure how he’s able to do it, but he’s mesmerizing, already able to manipulate you to his liking.
You’re sure it’s supposed to be frightening, but you can’t find it in you to care. Unlike John, you know with an enormous amount of certainty that they would never harm you, they’ll protect you.
What you don’t know is just how far they’ll go to protect you - to save you from deadbeat men who are too selfish to not recognize a treasure when he has one. And men that are too stupid to know when he’s being lied to. You don’t need to know that, though.
So, with a smile and a kiss, he sends you on your way, only retreating back into the room when you go in theirs.
“That was close,” Bucky says as he hangs up the phone, putting it back in his pocket.
“It’s okay, she doesn’t know.” Steve turns to his partner, both of them wearing matching smirks. “And she never will.”
taglist (+ people who seemed interested): @yamitem @buckysprettybaby @kokeshi-mynx @cevansbaby-dove @biteofcherry
A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)
Previous I Next
Masterlist
Summary: Steve has you exactly where you were always meant to be. In his house, under his protection and in his arms at long last. New plans are set in motion that will finally bring an end to the turmoil that you've both faced but with a sense of safety being with him brings, is it all a false hope? Will you truly ever be free?
18+ Only! Minors DNI!
CW: No use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove" and other pet names. Depictions of the Mafia lifestyle. Gun use. Knife use. Alcohol use. Mentions of domestic abuse for reader. Mentions of cuts, bruises, blood, etc. Trauma. Depiction of minor character deaths. Smut. Fingering. Oral (male receiving).
WC: 14.6K
A strip of sunlight slowly skirts itself along the wall illuminating the room just enough to rouse Steve from his deep slumber, eyes unwillingly fluttering open at the unwanted intrusion. In his haste and half dazed state, he hadn’t drawn the blackout curtains entirely closed the night before, internally cursing himself for the blunder. With a groan, and bleary eyes he lifts his head enough to see the bedside clock that reads 6:38 AM but this morning he was in no rush to untangle himself from the warmth that was pressed in bedside him.
He tilts his head with a soft, lazy smile and focuses on your face pressed into his chest. All things considered, it had been the best night of sleep he’d had in a very long time. His usual sleep pattern, or lack thereof with bouts of insomnia, seemingly dissipated with your mere presence.
He tightens his hold around you, pulling you further into his side thankful that he had you all to himself and he wasn’t about to let that go so soon. His free hand gently brushes the hair from your face as his lips move to your forehead, warm and lingering, savoring the feel of you wrapped in his arms.
He sighs heavily, laying his cheek to your head, letting the light scent of your honey scented shampoo envelop him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, along with the soft puffs of air that escape your parted lips. Suddenly he hoped to hell that your dreams were as peaceful as you currently looked, despite the lingering bruises, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. Instead, his focus was on the here and now. You were alive and, in his bed, exactly how things were always meant to be.
The last few days had been a waking nightmare but in this moment he felt like he was in a dream of his own, as though a thousand pound weight had finally been lifted from his chest but deep down inside there were new worries that were beginning to edge their way in.
Eddie could hold down the fort a little while longer. It was just the two of you together in this room with no interruptions from the outside world. No, today he would take things slow. He would cherish the treasure he has right here.
His fingertips drift up and down your side, moving in a slow, soothing manner. The medication was still heavy in your bloodstream; you’d sleep for a few more hours. The morning faded while holding you close, finally drifting back off to sleep, content and happy, with a soft smile etched across his face.
-
In the early afternoon, there was a low knock at the door, easing him awake. His immediate reaction was to check on you. You only stir slightly, rolling over into the pillow with a soft hum, otherwise thankfully undisturbed.
He brushes some hair from your face and places a kiss to your temple, lips lingering just a moment, before pushing the covers down and throwing his legs over the side of the bed, making sure to cover you back up. He moves over to the dresser taking a pair of pajamas from one of the various organized drawers and quickly pulls them up his legs before crossing the room and throwing open the door with a scowl.
Eddie stood there, hair slung in his usual low bun but his eyes were soft, briefly looking over Steve's shoulder to your sleeping form, keeping his voice low, “didn't want to bother you but—”
“No, no. I know you wouldn't if it wasn’t necessary.” Steve dismisses any incoming apologies with a small wave, stepping out into the hall, easing the door closed behind him with a soft click.
He leans up against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, wearing a forlorn expression ready for whatever news he was about to receive. Eddie posts himself up on the opposite wall, sliding his hands into his pockets, contemplating his next words carefully.
“Davids called about ten times,” the older man laments, eyes casting downward. “He wants to call a meeting today. Here.”
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose with a nod, eyes falling shut with another disapproving scowl.
“Jesus, of course he would.” He sighs with a curt nod. “I guess it's best to have one sooner rather than later. I'm sure he's worried and wants to see her for himself.”
“How is she?” Eddie asks, eyes worrying over his old friend, then drifting back to the closed door.
“Still sleeping. They gave her a heavy dose of meds to ease her. We won't know how she really feels until she wakes up, which hopefully won’t be for a few more hours.”
He nods in understanding, “...and how are you?”
Steve scoffs, pushing off the wall. “Where do I start? Fucking seething but happy she's here where I can keep an eye on her. I mean, Christ, Eddie—” He stops, nostrils flaring, trying to calm his own racing thoughts and jangled nerves.
“What he did to her—” he takes a shuddering breath. “I should have gone straight to the club and put a bullet between his goddamn eyes.”
“Hey, man.” Eddie comes to rest his hand on Steve’s shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze. “You've got this, Harrington. She's safe and we'll worry about the rest later, yeah?”
His intense mood is momentarily quelled by his old friend’s reassurance. Eddie was right. The most important thing is lying safe and sound in his bed, blissfully unaware of the rest of the world.
“I’ll be down in a few. Have everything ready. We’ll figure this shit out.” He finally responds, already regretful that he’ll be leaving your side.
“On it boss.” Eddie nods once, heading back downstairs as Steve slips back in quietly, looking over your sleeping form before padding to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
He showers and dresses while trying to stay as quiet as possible, a pair of black slacks and a freshly pressed dress shirt would suffice, rolling the sleeves up past his forearms foregoing a tie, keeping it more casual. Today formalities were the least thing from his mind.
He moves to your side, running his knuckles across your cheek and planting a soft kiss to your forehead before reluctantly pulling himself away.
It would be a long evening that he wasn't entirely ready to face but he could only run so far from the inevitable. He grabs his phone, taking one last look back, shuffling his way from the room.
The house was quiet as he quickly heads down the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the corridor, mind heavy with the day's agenda. His fingers type the passcode across his phone, opening to a slew of missed calls and messages, mainly from David. A pang of quilt passes through him, but he quickly pushes it back down. You were in no condition for visitors, even if it were your father. He wants to spare you for as long as he can.
Eddie rises as Steve steps into the office, taking up his usual residence in the large leather chair behind his desk. He types out a brief message to your father letting him know that the meeting was a go for later and drops it to the desk with a resounding thud, leaning back and gesturing to Eddie to take the chair across from him.
He didn't immediately speak, his gaze drifting out the window as if contemplating, letting the silence stretch between them, the only sound between the two was the ticking of the large grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
“I need you to pack your bags.” He finally sighs out, eyes locking onto Eddie's, the older man giving him a puzzled look, eyebrows furrowing but biting his tongue allowing Steve to continue.
“I don't know what's going to happen, so I need you to go to Italia. Stay with mamma and Pip. Make sure they're safe. Make sure they stay safe.” His look is almost pained, pleading as if he can’t bear the thought of anything happening to either of them.
“Do you really think that's the best idea? What if—” He begins to question but is quickly cut off.
“Eddie, you're the only one I trust to send to them. You have to do this for me.” He says with a finality that any other arguments die on the older man's tongue. “I know Pip can be a handful, but I know you're also the only one that can possibly manage her.”
Eddie nods. The idea of him and Pip in the same room immediately irritates him. The woman had a way of getting under his skin unlike any other, but it's Steve's sister. He'd do anything to protect her and their mother.
“She's been out of rehab for a few weeks. Mamma said she's acclimating well, but I don't buy it. Not entirely. I'm not asking you to babysit her, but you know exactly how she is. The stubborn ass still won’t talk to me. Blames me for all her problems.” He huffs out a laugh, despite the tense gravity of the conversation, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
“When do you want me to leave?” Eddie roughly replies, knowing his orders were non-negotiable even if he did oppose them.
“Immediately after this meeting. I’ll have your tickets squared away, just make sure you’re ready to go.” With that, Eddie leaves to start gathering his things.
“And Eddie?” He waits for him to turn; hand still poised on the door handle. “Take care of yourself.” It was sincere. An understanding between the two men that were more like brothers than a boss and his loyal capo.
“Don’t worry, Harrington. Till the end.” He mock salutes and ducks through the door leaving Steve to have a moment of peace before the other factions start to arrive.
“Till the end,” he repeats, a whisper on his lips as he settles back in his chair, his mind drifting back to you. Flashes of the way he had found you the day before haunt him, unsure if they would ever leave his mind. His fingertips dig into the arms of his chair, leather creaking under his white-knuckled grip.
“Goddamnit.” He hisses, standing quickly and striding across the room to pour himself a bourbon. It would hopefully take the edge off enough that he wouldn’t be worrying himself sick. He’s not an idiot. He knows you aren’t completely unscathed. That's glaringly obvious every time he looks at you and you weren’t entirely out of the woods, but he hopes to God you’ll be okay.
He downs the smoky amber liquid in one large gulp, looking out across the lawn. The day holds promise and hope of a new era. A new way of doing things was on the horizon with Steve at the helm. It was up to him to take the reins and make this life better for the both of you, the life you both deserve.
_
Floating and falling. A rush of emotions coming back all at once.
The furious look on Nik’s face before you had lost consciousness accompanied with a feeling of absolute hopelessness emerges in the dark recesses of your mind as you begin to come to in the late afternoon.
“No.” A hoarse mumble, heavy tongue and parched lips against a soft, silk pillow stirring awake to images of rage and fury.
But then, he was there, like a haloed angel. A silhouette against the darkened night, a light amongst the cruel black guiding you to your refuge.
“Steve.” You breathe out, eyelids slowly fluttering open, blinking against the light filtering into the room. It was a dizzying sort of feeling, trying to adjust to new surroundings. Your memories are still foggy, but you feel a calming sense of warmth and safety.
“Steve?” You croak, voice straining with a little more force, sitting up with a wince, your whole body aching in protest, looking around at the unfamiliar setting. It was dimly lit, but you could make out the layout of the furniture the more it came into focus.
His room. His house. You remind yourself, willing your heartbeat to settle back down as things become more clear in your hazy mind.
Pushing the covers down and shifting off the side of the bed, you stand on wobbly legs with a groan, gripping the headboard for support. Your bladder was full, begging to be emptied, your head moves on a swivel surveying for the ensuite bathroom.
It was a slow go, taking your time, one foot in front of the other crossing the room at a snail's pace. You finally move past the threshold, fumbling for the light switch when the harsh fluorescent lighting kicks on from above momentarily blinding you. You squint against the intrusion with a heavy groan, blinking until your eyes finally adjust.
The tile flooring cools the soles of your feet, even through your socks as you pad over to the toilet, passing the mirror along the way.
You gasp looking at the reflection, barely recognizing yourself.
Your hair was a matted mess, slung up haphazardly. There was a butterfly bandage on your upper left cheek, covering a small cut accompanied by a swollen bruise matching the one over your eye. Your tongue darts out, licking at another cut to your lower lip with a wince. You didn’t yet want to think about what lay beneath your clothes.
Nik nearly succeeded that night.
He meant to leave you a broken, withering shell but he never truly knew the woman he had married, not that he ever bothered to learn anything once the honeymoon phase had passed. You were strong and brave, unwilling to bend or break under pressure, even at the cruel hand of someone you had once thought you cared for.
You turn away, willing yourself not to cry. In this moment, it felt like letting him win and the thought of giving him any kind of satisfaction soured your stomach.
After relieving yourself, you stand feeling a faint rumble in your tummy. You aren’t sure what time it was but your body was reminding you that you hadn't had a proper meal in what essentially felt like days.
It crosses your mind to go lay back down, still feeling exhausted, but ultimately your hunger wins out. Pulling on a long bath robe over your cotton nightgown that was hung by the shower has his scent immediately enveloping you in warmth. You quietly slip from the solitude and comfort, out into the hall and into the familiar home that had always welcomed you.
Steve had been in the process of renovating for some time, the gaudy over the top lavish decor has mostly been replaced with more modern, stylish design. It suited the house. He was making it his. The layout was still the same, rounding the corner as you begin the descent down the stairs, coming to a pause when you reach the first floor landing.
You hear a faint murmur of voices coming from the end of the hall from Steve’s office. Had you been thinking clearly, you would have found the kitchen, instead your feet carry you to the door as the voices become louder and more defined. You assume it was he and Eddie, so you knock once and open the heavy oak door without a passing thought only to be met with an entire room full of very well dressed and stoic men staring directly at you with all varying degrees of worried or horrified expressions.
Your eyes widen in shock, an immediate feeling of dread making your insides curl. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I–” You begin to apologize, backing out of the room when Steve quickly stands, rounding the desk, rushing forward with his own worried gaze, eyebrows pinched and arms outstretched reaching you in just a few short strides of his long legs. Your father rises, taking a step but suddenly thinking the better of it when Eddie fixes him with a very pointed look.
“Dove, hey. Tesoro.” He speaks in a low, calm tone, hand wrapping easily around your upper arm, ushering you forward into his awaiting embrace. Your arms move around his middle, grasping the back of his shirt in your fists as he takes a few steps, pushing you back out of the office and shutting the door behind him.
“Shhh… hey. I’ve got you.” He whispers against your hair, leaning his cheek down to the top of your head as you bury your face into his chest. The tears you held back upstairs began to flow freely, failing miserably to stop them.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just barged in th–”
“No, look at me.” He coaxes your face up toward his with his broad palm to your cheek, only to be met with his warm, honey hued eyes showing nothing but pure adoration and sympathy. “Don’t apologize, this is your home now too. No part of this place is off limits, whether I’m conducting business or not. I don’t care, you understand?”
His thumb wipes a tear from your cheek as you nod with a sniff, chin still wobbly.
“Good.” He mumbles softly, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I should be the one apologizing for leaving you alone, dolcezza. I was hoping you'd sleep a while longer.”
“No.” You protest, looking back up to his regretful expression. “I know you’re a busy man, Steve. I would have never expected you to stay in bed with me all day.” Which was the truth, even under these circumstances your heart knows he would keep moving forward.
“Tesoro… You are too good to me.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and closing his eyes for a moment of reprieve, his hand moving up and down your spine in a slow, soothing manner. You’re both quiet for a few beats before he speaks again, voice low and warm.
“So, what’s gotten you out of bed, hmm?” He asks. “You need rest.”
“I’m starving.” You say earnestly, earning a chuckle from the man.
“I think we can handle that. Come on.” He moves to grasp your hand, fingers sliding between yours.
“Steve, it’s okay.” You stop him with a small nudge to his chest and a reassuring smile. “I know where the kitchen is. Go back to your meeting.”
You don’t give him a chance to argue, raising up to place a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?” He asks, studying your face.
“I’m sure.” You smile, squeezing his hand once before turning away, heading down the hall in search of some sustenance.
He watches you go, exhaling deeply and clenching his jaw when he notices the small limp in your gait. He knows you’re still in pain. The evidence was too prevalent to ignore which he could currently use to his advantage.
He heads back through the door, with all of the focus going toward him as he re-enters, everyone silently waiting for him to speak.
Taking a deep breath, he gazes around the room, eyes landing on your father who seems a few shades paler than he did moments ago.
“Did you get a good look?” He asks, voice steady and sure, making his intentions clear. “She’s one of the reasons we’re here. What that monster did to her–”
He cuts himself off, desperately trying to hold his anger at bay finding his fists clenched at his sides taking a deep breath.
“Nikolai Petrov is not the kind of man we need in our midst. If he does that to his own goddamn wife, there’s no telling what he’s capable of.” He was no longer in the mood for negotiations. As seedy as the Mafia was, most men still had honor. He hopes he could appeal to this side of them.
“It’s not exactly an offense in this line of business to beat your wife.” One of the younger men spoke up with a slight smirk. Steve taking note and filing that one away to deal with later.
“It’s not.” He resigns, taking another deep breath. “But most of the men in this room have some semblance of honor and duty. A marriage, much like the mafia works because of mutual respect and understanding. We’re not uncivilized brutes using our fists and intimidation tactics to get what we want anymore, unless absolutely necessary. We’re all here now, speaking man to man.” There is fire in his eyes as he stares down each and every soul in that room head on, practically daring them to interrupt.
“I’m willing to bet most of you here have had less than stellar deals with Nikolai.” The statement hung thick in the air, earning a few sighs and shifty glances as well as nods of agreement. He cites a few examples, calling out various members around the room, making his point before continuing.
“He has outlived his usefulness, if there ever was one. I will no longer stand by and let him continue this charade in Chicago or anywhere else for that matter. He’s a stain in our system. I’m taking him down, once and for all. And if any of you gentlemen want to continue working with someone like that, you can kindly see yourself out. Now.” He points to the door with a stern finality.
No one immediately speaks, a brief but weighted silence falling upon them. An older man in the back, head of one of the families in New York finally clears his throat.
“And what do you propose we do, Harrington?” Don Carlo asks. A stout man, who commanded the room when he spoke, one of the oldest Dons left in charge on the East coast. Everyone’s eyes cut to him as the small murmurs cease almost instantly. The respect was evident.
“We welcomed this Russian–” he states with a hint of disdain, “at the behest of one of our own and now you’re suggesting we just cut him off? Will this not cause an all out war? The Bratva do not take these things lightly.” He cautions. “And our brothers, the Cosa Nostra do not care what happens here in America unless they have to get involved, which would not be in anyone's best interest.”
“Leave the logistics to me.” He nods. “All of our deals in this room stand, but it’s time to put the heat on the Russians.” Steve continues, taking the floor for the next ten minutes detailing a few more things when he finally falls silent as the other men contemplate the plan carefully laid out before them.
The same man sighed heavily speaking up for the group. “Alright, you have our full support,” he spoke in a gruff voice, “but make no mistake, tread lightly because if you fail no one is coming to your rescue. This is between the two of you but our contract stands and as far as I am concerned, we will wash our hands of this Russian pig.”
Nods and voices of agreement echo around the room, much to Steve’s relief.
Soon after, handshakes are exchanged as they begin to filter out, leaving just your father and Eddie.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Your father spoke up, standing and buttoning his suit jacket. “I’d like to see my daughter.”
“David, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea right now.” Steve cuts in front of him in one swift move, leveling his gaze, still pissed at the way he had stood by letting this all play out the night of the dinner.
“Excuse me?” Your father asks incredulously.
“I don’t think she’s feeling up to having visitors right now.” His tone was firm and unyielding. “She’s under my roof and my protection. I don’t want to cause her any added stress. You understand, right?”
He takes a step forward, never breaking eye contact, the tension now palpable with the two men standing practically nose to nose. There was a poignant pause, Steve silently daring him, eyes full of fury.
“I’ll be sure to let her know that you’re welcome to stop by anytime, yeah? At her request, of course.”
“Of course.” David sighs, noting Eddie’s defensive posture over Steve’s shoulder. This was not a fight to be had right now. He thought it over for a few moments before finally nodding, relenting his own defensive stance.
“Let her know I’d like to see her as soon as she’s feeling up to it then.” He grits out, between clenched teeth.
“Of course.” Steve then pats his shoulder and throws on a charming smile, one that David didn’t return as he quickly turns, taking his leave.
Steve’s hands slide into his pockets, shoulders finally loosening the tension they had been holding as he relaxes the tiniest bit.
“Hard parts over, eh Boss?” Eddie muses as both men watch your father leave.
If only that were the case, Steve thought.
-
You’re taking the last few bites of a sandwich, seated at the island, when Steve walks into the kitchen. For a split second there’s a faraway look on his face before he meets you with a soft smile.
He slides up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist resting his chin to your shoulder, careful not to squeeze you too hard as you melt into his embrace with a contended hum.
“Did you get enough to eat, tesoro?” He asks with a kiss to your cheek.
“Mhm.” You sigh, rolling your head back against him, closing your eyes. The moment suddenly feels so surreal, sitting in Steve's kitchen, with his arms around you and having the freedom to love him as you please. You both had longed for this exact moment for so long.
Even given the circumstances, your heart felt full finally being here with the man you were always meant for. You allow yourself to feel the peace he brings you. His chest expands into your back with each steady breath, reminding you once again that you're both here. Alive. Together.
He finally breaks the trance with another kiss, this time to your temple.
“Let's get you back to bed, tesoro. I'll put on your favorite movie and grab us some ice cream. Hmm?” His tone is soft, squeezing you slightly tighter as he speaks.
“That… sounds amazing.” You shift in your stool to face him, before his hand comes to cradle your jaw.
He takes in your appearance with a frown. The prominent bruises and cuts that he still feels responsible for, practically mocking him, turning his stomach to think about what you went through. Despite his internal warring, he doesn't want to outwardly show it to you but you still notice the small shift in his demeanor before he steals it away.
He won't prod or pry because he knows you'll talk about everything when you're ready, so instead he holds you close, his free hand moving to the small of your back.
His eyes sparkle with pure adoration as he stares down at you, his face inching forward.
“I love you, tesoro.” His lips hover just millimeters from yours, your breaths mingling as he speaks.
“I love you, amore mio.” You reply softly, before he hesitantly presses his lips to yours. It was timid and tender, done with the utmost care as if you were made of glass. You ignore the slight sting in your lip as you snake your arms around his middle, pulling him in, urging him to deepen the kiss.
He wastes no time, his grip growing tighter still, his tongue slipping past your parted lips to tangle with yours and suddenly it feels right in the world again. He feels like home and you know you're exactly where you're meant to be.
A soft sigh escapes you as you taste him, lingering notes of bourbon and nicotine, hidden beneath his cinnamon laced breath alight your senses but that familiarity of him drives you wild. There was a sense of longing and need you were trying to convey but the feeling is quickly dashed when your taste buds are hit with a pungent metallic tang, plunging you back to the present.
The motions aggravated the cut to your lip. You pull away with a whimper, your eyes locking on the crimson smear across his lip, his face briefly morphing into confusion as you pull away only to fall as he notes the same sheen across your lips.
“Shit, I'm sorry.” He rushes out, thumb lightly tracing underneath your bottom lip, slipping a handkerchief from his pocket to lightly dab at the small droplet there.
“Don't apologize.” You reply breathlessly, hands pulling at the material of his shirt. “I just— I need you close.”
He immediately understands; the same need coursing through his veins but he knows he has to be delicate and take things slow, offering a small solution - suggesting a bath, a way to be close and intimate without over exerting you any further.
You accept the invitation without a second thought, hoping it will relax the both of you.
He guides you back to his room, helping you to the edge of the bed so you can sit comfortably while he draws a warm bath in the oversized tub, opting for his own body wash to create some bubbles. The thought of getting your own toiletries hadn’t crossed his mind with everything that had gone on, making a mental note to have it fully stocked for you tomorrow.
You ease up after a few restless minutes, padding across the plush carpet to find him sitting at the edge of the tub in nothing but his black slacks, fingertips dancing in the water. You’re met with his scent wafting through the air, a spicy gourmand blend that’s usually more subtle lingering on his body.
“Dove.” He hums softly, beckoning you forward. You reach him in a few short strides, a steadying hand to your hip to guide you between his legs.
No words were spoken as his intentions to make you feel loved and cared for are made clear in the way he undresses you. He stands, untying his robe you were still wearing and easing the fabric from your shoulders, his touch is soft, feather-light skimming across your skin, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor.
He squeezes the cotton nightgown in-between his fingers, slowly lifting it to reveal your form beneath. A shiver runs down your spine as the fabric rises up your thighs, his fingertips barely grazing your skin, then up your torso and past your bare chest, aiding him by lifting your arms to help remove it from you entirely.
With every strip of skin revealed, his eyes pour over you with a renewed reverence. It was a newfound appreciation for the woman before him. Every bloom of color painted across your otherwise perfect canvas is a testament of how much you had endured and yet you were still standing. His mind once again drifts to darker places, blaming himself for all of this.
You notice the subtle shift in his gaze, his face morphing into a scowl, his brows pinched hard in thought. Taking another step forward, you place your palm over his heart, the hard muscle of his chest flexing under your touch but his expression immediately softens.
Your hands drift down the plains of his stomach, hearing him take a sharp intake of breath as they drift lower, popping the button on his trousers with practiced ease. They fall slowly from his waist, pooling at his feet.
He finishes undressing himself, pushing his boxers down to join his slacks, leaving him bare before you, he moves to hook his fingertips gingerly into the elastic of your panties and drags them slowly down your legs as he crouches, knees touching the floor.
He feels like a sinner at an altar under your gaze, unworthy to be in your presence, let alone to be kneeling at your feet. If this is the only Heaven that his soul would allow him to see, then what an honor it would be to forever worship you. Mind, body and soul.
Timid fingertips dance up your thighs, gliding past your stomach and up your ribs, leaving a trial of goosebumps in their wake, meeting the small of you back to press you close to his warm body when he stands. You hum at the contact, moving you toward the bath, stepping in first and holding his hand out to help you in.
The warm water laps at your calves as he settles in against the cool porcelain and you ease yourself in, sitting between his outstretched legs easing back against him.
You ignored the tightness growing in your chest, unable to look down at your body, thankful that it was mostly obscured by the soapy water, instead focusing on the man behind you. You close your eyes taking in the feel of his own chest expanding against your back with each deep inhale, his warm embrace grounding you and slowing your heart rate as he kisses your shoulder releasing a heavy exhale, relaxing against the tub and pulling you with him.
Moments like these are sacred. This is the tenderness he craves and the affection that you deserve, basking in each other's light with no outside interference.
Physically and mentally exhausted you melt further into him letting the warm water soothe your aches.
Fingers dance along damp skin. Soft praises and affirmations are shared between soft kisses. This is what love is meant to be. Gentle. Patient. Kind.
Later that night, as you lay tangled together under fresh sheets with your head pressed into his chest you thank whatever God or star or deity out there that you were given this second chance at love and life.
-
Your waking hours are filled with happy moments, Steve barely leaving your side unless he has business to conduct but it’s your dreams that torment you. Your unconscious mind replays the events with Nik over and over, leaving you startled awake in a cold sweat, crying and trembling in Steve’s arms.
“Dove! Dove… wake up, tesoro.” His voice reaches out through the darkness, a beacon to help guide you. “It’s just a nightmare. I’m here.”
It gets a little easier each day, but it feels like a chore to leave the comfort and solitude that the bedroom provides, so you don’t.
He often finds you curled up in the window seat with a disassociated look in your eye, scanning the grounds below. You meet him with a warm smile each time he comes in, either bringing a meal or just checking in on you with a tender kiss and soft spoken words always telling you the same: Take all the time you need. I'm here. I'll be here waiting. I’ll wait as long as you need.
His patience and understanding knows no bounds.
You begin to feel more like yourself the further your body begins to heal. The bruises fade and the lingering cuts close and stitch themselves back together. The mirror doesn’t feel all that much like an enemy with each passing day.
Steve’s gone above and beyond, providing everything you need to make you feel more at home, making the transition from secret lover to lady of the house almost a seamless process, stocking the toiletries as he had promised, along with new makeup and clothes, making space in his closet for you to share.
A new phone was provided only containing his, your fathers and Eddie’s numbers to start. Only those he could trust with your life, though your father may have been pushing it. He had one of his men go into the galley to retrieve your laptop so you could get more of your contacts, including Abigail’s.
It had been more than a week since she had heard from you. You were sure she was worried sick but as you dialed her number, you stopped. It suddenly occurred to you she would be more safe not knowing anything about where you had gone, at least for now.
Almost two weeks pass in the blink of an eye.
With Steve, it was easy. You slipped into a routine of domesticated bliss, bringing the very best out in each other. He fanned the flames until that light began to dance in your eyes once more, shining brightly just for him.
He had gotten up early to pick his morning jogs back up, leaving you to rest to your heart's content, opting to use the treadmill at home to stay close.
His chest heaves with each steady thump, sneakers meeting the belt with force, pushing him onward. He started dripping sweat around the fifteen minute mark, forcing him to remove the thin tee he had been sporting. He tries to push out those distracting thoughts while he is running, centering himself for the day.
The sound of the blender floats from the kitchen when you make your way down the stairs, still dressed in your silk nightgown. With a yawn and stretch, he comes into view pouring his smoothie into a glass at the counter. His back was facing you, muscles taught, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat as he brought the glass to his lips. You couldn’t stop yourself, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you unabashedly ogle him, the stir of heat beginning to pool in your lower belly.
You slowly walk up behind him, arms circling his waist, placing a kiss to his shoulder blade.
“Mmm, I’m all sweaty baby.” He hums, looking over his shoulder at you with a grin.
“Mmhm… I know.” Murmuring, as you place another kiss to his shoulder and then another, this time tasting his salty perspiration faintly on your tongue.
The two of you haven’t been intimate since staying here, giving you time to heal. You suddenly wanted to test the waters, planning on diving in head first.
You plant kisses all along his back, each one growing in passion and insistence. Small pecks quickly turn hot and open mouthed, a small moan escaping you was his breaking point. His cock twitches beneath his gray joggers, alerting him to his own growing need, releasing a shuddering breath, blood suddenly traveling south at an alarming rate.
“Dove.” He breathes out, head lolling back, eyes closing. His hands drift down to yours, pulling them away from his body so he could turn to face you.
His palm meets your cheek, fingers fanning out through your hair, thumb sliding across your bottom lip. A soft contrast to the way he stares intently down at you, a burning desire with his pupils blown wide. He pulls you in, a firm grip on your hip, his already hard length pressing into you, letting you know how badly he needs you.
He doesn’t waste another second, pressing his lips to yours. Soft at first, as if he was holding back, until your tongue darts out sliding against his bottom lip. He groans, the hand cradling your jaw finding your neck’s nape, his arm winding tighter around your back. It becomes desperate and messy, tongues clashing rhythmically, tasting and savoring one another.
Your lower back meets the counter, pinning you there. You pour every ounce of longing into your kiss, letting your mouth convey what words just couldn’t do in the moment.
He pulls away, only to catch his breath, hands quickly traveling down to the back of your thighs, placing you on the counter with a squeak, suddenly grabbing your ass pulling you to the edge as he slides between your legs. He brings his forehead to yours, fingertips now teasing the inside of your thigh, dipping dangerously close to your core before pulling back, making you whine in protest.
“Tesoro…” His nose grazes yours, hot breath fanning against your lips as he speaks. “My needy girl.”
“Steve,” you breathe out hoarse and wanton, his fingertips eagerly resuming their path, edging closer and closer to your aching need. Your eyelids flutter shut, mouth falling agape as he reaches the inside edge of your panties.
“You’re sure?” He asks quietly, making sure you are comfortable, ready. His gaze watches you intently as you nod, instantly hooking a finger inward, pulling them to the side.
“Look at you.” He takes a sharp inhale, eyes zeroed in on your glistening cunt. “All for me.”
He doesn't give you time to respond to his words, instead tracing over your slick slit with a featherlight touch, causing your hips to jolt, with a breathy moan pushing past your kiss-swollen lips. His thumb brushes past your clit, making your tummy flip, warmth blooming in your lower abdomen, aching for more. The next pass has him applying a little more pressure, the friction you so desperately desire, making your inner walls clench around nothing, wishing for nothing more than to be filled.
His thumb continues to caress and stimulate your clit as his middle finger dips down, teasing your aching hole, dipping in gently, opening you up little by little. Your nails dig into his shoulders when he starts to pump his thick digit in and out, then slowly, adding another making your head spin, hurtling you toward release at an embarrassingly fast rate. The moans and whines you release begin to increase in volume. You knew the house staff was nearby but you couldn't find it in you to care, not with the way he was worshiping your cunt.
He curls his fingers, finding and stroking that soft pad of nerves that immediately has you seeing stars, hand flying across the counter, to grip onto anything to ground yourself, inadvertently knocking his smoothie from the cool surface.
It lands on the floor, shattering as you reach your peak, with a sharp gasp and cry of his name but all you could hear was his soft praises, whispering right in your ear. Your pussy tightens as you cum around his fingers, making him groan with satisfaction.
He was in awe watching you fall apart. “Good girl, my good girl,” he rasps as your chest heaves, leaving you a breathless, boneless mess before him.
You finally open your eyes when he withdraws his fingers, a whine escaping you at the loss. A smirk is plastered across his smug face as he wraps his lips around them, sucking them clean with an obscene moan.
“Fuck, you taste good.” He hums, gaze never leaving yours, making your insides twist up once more.
“God— Steve.” You huff, body still thrumming from your orgasm.
“Hmmm? That feel good, honey?” He coos sweetly, tenderly cupping your cheeks, planting a kiss to your forehead.
You nod, reluctantly tearing your gaze from him to the mess of green froth spread across the floor.
“Shit, I— I'll clean that up.”
“Nope! You’ll do no such thing!” He suddenly lifts you from the counter, hoisting you over his shoulder. You let out a sound of surprise, followed by a giggle as he carries you from the kitchen and out into the hall, placing your bare feet safely onto the carpet, far away from any errant shards of glass.
“I'll have someone clean it.” His head dips down, hazel eyes meeting yours. “You, go have a relaxing day. A bath? Rest up, because tonight,” his breath fans across your cheek as he leans in, voice gravely as he speaks. “You're all mine.”
His words send an immediate bolt of want straight to your core, his lips meeting yours in a tender, almost reverent kiss a stark contrast of the promise his words bring. Your arms tighten around his neck, holding him close for a few more moments before he reluctantly sighs and pulls back, keeping his hand running up and down your back soothingly.
“I’ve got to go out this morning.” He says, firm resignation in his voice, remorseful for leaving you alone.
“It’s okay, amore mio.” You breathe out, planting a kiss to his chest, right above his heart, then shifting to meet his soft, adoring gaze.
He knew he was a lucky man to have you, such an understanding and selfless woman. His lips meet your forehead one last time before he heads upstairs to get ready for his long day, leaving you to head back to the kitchen where the mess was already being attended to.
You spoke pleasantries with the staff, a shade of pink dusting your cheeks, feeling a small hint of embarrassment as you pass them to pour yourself a cup of coffee and opt to take a seat out on the veranda that overlooks the garden. The fresh air fills your lungs, breathing deeply, feeling a sense of peace wash over you with each inhale.
Steve bid you farewell a little while later, happy to see you out of the house, even if it was just a few feet from the door. Progress.
You spent the day mostly lazing about. It was an odd feeling, free to do as you please without fear of repercussions. It would be different now. Easy to live and love, a liberation like no other.
_
Steve was gone for most of the day, returning in the early afternoon. You find him sitting in his office, brow creased as he works at his desk. Stress was practically emanating from him in waves. He barely glances up as you waltz in, smile on your face, happy to see him back at home.
You slide in beside him, arm going around his neck, leaning over to kiss his temple. He sighs, immediately reciprocating your touch, grasping your hand and pulling up your palm to place a kiss there.
“I’ve got a few more meetings and then I’m all yours.” He mumbles, lips ghosting against your wrist.
“Going out again?” Asking timidly, knowing the time and energy that goes into his job.
“No, thankfully. Video calls. That’s all, tesoro.” He turns his head to look up at you then, the crease between his brows softening, the tension visibly dissipating in your presence.
He smiles, drawing you in for a kiss, humming as your lips meet.
“Gorgeous girl, I can’t wait to have you all to myself tonight.” He murmurs against them, reluctantly pulling away with a sigh. “It shouldn't take more than a few hours, at most.”
“I'll be right upstairs when you’re done.” You smirk, standing to your full height, fingertips dragging across the top of his shoulders as you step away.
“And… I won’t be wearing anything.” You add, with a small giggle, looking back at him as you walk out.
“You little minx…” He replies, nearly breathless at the mental image your words conjure to the forefront of his mind, his eyes watch your hips sway with each step, roving over the soft curve of your ass with a stifled groan.
“She’ll be the death of me.” He whispers, shaking his head as if to rid himself of his current sinful thoughts, trying to focus on the task at hand. One more meeting to get through and he could make good on his earlier promise.
_
As the day edged into evening, it became clear that Steve’s meeting was taking longer than anticipated. Storm clouds rolled in near dusk, bringing a torrential downpour and an early sunset.
The rain pelts wildly down against the glass as you sit perched in the window seat upstairs. You usually don't mind this kind of weather but something in the way the lightning splits the sky and the loud, reverberating thunder shaking the window panes while also rumbling through you as you look out across the sodden grounds make you feel the tiniest bit unnerved.
Steve would be done on his own time, so bothering him now would do neither of you any good but you would make sure the evening to come would be relaxing for him. The fireplace was lit, wine had been secured and brought to your room earlier in the day to set the mood.
You take one last look out the window before drawing a bath, shaving for the first time in what felt like weeks, making you feel somewhat normal again. Laying a cool cloth across your eyes, you lay back against the porcelain, the warm water soothing your body and mind, if only for a little while. The thunder only seems to get louder, more ominous, as time passes, but you shake off the feeling instead focusing on the promises of later.
You lay there humming and smiling to yourself thinking of Steve’s hands on you earlier, imagining what the rest of the night would bring. The two of you could finally be laid out bare without any barriers or implications of what those actions might bring.
An even louder clap of thunder suddenly startles you from your blissful daydreaming, making your heart rate tick upwards. Removing the cloth from your eyes, you sit up, the night sky still alive outside the window. With a sigh you finally decide to get out, drying off and wrapping a silk robe around your damp body.
The bathroom is filled with everything you need. Body oils, lotions and your over-priced face serums and creams sat neatly alongside his as if it had always been this way. The scent of your favorite lotion wafts through the air as you begin to massage some along the soft skin of your thigh, then moving to the other as another loud bang makes you jump, except this time it doesn’t sound like the rumble of thunder from outside, but something heavy tumbling to the floor from downstairs.
You pause your ministrations, head swiveling to the bedroom door, listening intently for a few seconds when it comes again, a louder thump this time followed by the clear sound of glass shattering making you gasp. All manner of things begin to run through your mind as your feet carry you to the door, throwing it open and dashing down the hall.
“Steve?!” You shout down the staircase, pausing momentarily, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. It was suddenly far too quiet. Your voice echoing down to the main corridor should have had security rounding the corner to at least check on you but no one comes.
Your heart begins to beat wildly in your chest, suddenly hyper focused on any sounds that drift to you. With a shaky hand you grip the railing, taking it one step at a time, easing down the stairs to the first floor landing.
Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, you look toward the front door, spotting a pair of trouser clad legs laying on the floor, partially obscured from your vantage point you have no idea who it is.
You try not to make a sound, tiptoeing closer to gain a better look. A small gurgling sound fills the foyer as one of the security team members comes into view, laying in a large puddle of his own blood. You shriek, bare toes edging into the puddle, tacky and warm against your skin. The sound you come to find is the man struggling to inhale, a large puncture wound in the side of his neck was making it impossible.
You make the briefest of eye contact, his pupils nearly dilate the entirety of his iris but his eyes aren’t focused, staring blankly toward the ceiling. As much as it pains you to leave him laying there, you have to find Steve. There was no time to waste.
You turn swiftly on your heel, racing down the back hall heading toward his office leaving a trail of wine colored footprints in your wake. A tightness in your chest begins to form with every step, crippling fear over taking your mind at the thought of what could lay just beyond the door.
Reaching it in a few seconds feels more like an eternity with your heart hammering, pushing open the heavy wood without another thought or regard for your own safety.
Two heads snap in your direction, their eyes suddenly landing on your form as the door swings open, hitting the wall with a loud thud.
A large, intimidating man has Steve pinned up against the wall. You stand there, abject horror written all over your face at the state of the disheveled office and Steve’s appearance, bloodied and bruised but then immediate recognition passes over you as the man smirks darkly, looking over his shoulder at you.
The Boogeyman, in the flesh. A face only a mother could love, with a scar running down the entirety of the left cheek. His eyes are cold and unnerving as they rove over your body and back up. The uneasy smile that splits his face makes you squirm as you shout Steve’s name.
The momentary distraction gives Steve the advantage of throwing a punch directly into the man’s gut, he grunts, his grip loosening on Steve’s shirt but he wouldn’t give up so easily, throwing a punch of his own, knocking him back against the wall. It’s a sudden tangle of limbs and fury as both men grapple in the corner, one trying to overpower the other.
“Dove! Run!” He yells, scrambling to gain the upper hand as the assailant pulls a blade from his pocket, swinging wildly as the knife slashes past Steve's bicep. He hisses out in pain taking a few steps back putting a little distance between the two. He comes at Steve again, but this time he was ready, hitting his wrist and knocking the knife entirely from his hand.
The scene unfolding before you has you stunned. His clear instructions have no effect on you, leaving you stuck in place, feet glued to the floor.
“Dove!” He shouts once more, with an intense urgency. “Go!”
Something snaps seeing him like this, desperate to protect you and fighting for his life. The thought of anything happening to him pulls you from your shocked stupor enough to make a hasty decision and back out of the room. You weren’t going to stand by and let someone take Steve from you. Not now. Not when you’ve come this far.
You run back down the hall as fast as your feet and legs can carry you to the foyer, the security guard now laying motionless and silent as you kneel down.
“I’m so sorry.” You murmur, knees sinking into the pool of crimson as you lean over him to retrieve his sidepiece. You grip it tightly, pulling it free from the holster, standing quickly to move back to the office.
You take two steps before the sound of two gunshots in quick succession echo down the hallway, halting your movements. It feels like the air is suddenly sucked from the room, leaving you to stand there unable to move, unable to breathe staring at the office door left ajar.
You call out Steve's name, barely above a whisper as tears spring to your eyes.
“Steve!” You call out louder, but you are met with an eerie sort of silence instead.
It’s only a few seconds but it feels like forever stretches on only to finally hear a shuffling sound and heavy footfalls, making you raise and aim the gun with trembling hands, resting your finger against the trigger.
You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, ready for anything, your vision blurring from the tears now streaming down your face.
An unsteady foot drops into view as he finally stumbles out of the open doorway bloodied and bruised but alive, clutching his side and the door frame for support.
“Oh my God!” You shriek, grip loosening on the gun, tossing it to the floor and bolting toward him. You all but launch yourself into his chest, throwing your arms around his neck making him grunt and wince in pain but he nevertheless pulls you into his bone crushing embrace.
“Steve.” You sigh in relief to have him living and breathing in your arms.
One of the grounds security flies into the hall with his weapon drawn, seeing the state the two of you were in sends him into a tailspin.
“Mr. Harrington!” He yells, almost out of breath, coming to stand beside you. “Henricks and Anderson are–”
“Not now.” Steve hisses, your hands lowering themselves to grip the front of his shirt. “Go into the office and wait for me there. Radio whoever is left, if you haven’t already. It looks like it was one assailant, dead.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Harrington.” He replies, immediately obeying his orders.
He has your head cradled to his chest as you slowly pull back to look up at him, lifting your hand to brush away the loose strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His face is splattered and smeared with crimson, a bruise to his cheek and a cut above his left eye. Your fingertips trace the wounds, your touch trailing downward, his shirt stained with the same scarlet hue.
“Are you hurt, tesoro?” He asks, as if he isn’t the one in pain and bleeding right now, his grip finding the nape of your neck to ground himself.
“Steve, I'm fine. You– there's blood everywhere.” You shudder out, allowing your hands to begin to wander and examine him more thoroughly.
His sleeve has a gash where the wine color soaks through the fabric. Your eyes trail lower to his abdomen, where a very large splotch covers the area, the same place he had been clutching.
“Amore, let's get you cleaned up. I– I need to look at these wounds.” Voice wavering, as your fingers slightly tremor.
“Dove, hey, no. You're not cleaning up my mess. I need to call a few people, don't you dare go into the office. Okay?” His voice was strained but you were still looking over him, barely paying attention to the words, far too concerned and focused on his well being.
“Dove, baby.” He spoke more softly this time, the grip on the back of your neck tightening ever so slightly to gain your attention. When you don't respond he makes his voice a little more stern, pulling you out of your haze.
“Dove, look at me.”
You meet his gaze, cinnamon and honey hued eyes staring back, but it was you who wanted to reassure him instead.
“No, Steve. Let me take care of you. I want to take care of you.” You rasp, looking up at him through your lashes. Your words mixed with your doe eyed expression has him melting on the spot. Maybe it was the fact you'd never seen him quite so vulnerable. You’d always seen Steve as the embodiment of invincibility, always coming to the rescue when you needed to be saved that you had never once dreamed that he’d ever need you in that sort of capacity.
He decided not to argue back this time.
“Yeah. Okay.” He nods. “Just give me a few. I have to go do some damage control first. Go to the bedroom and lock the door.”
He cradles your jaw, making sure you are staring up at him. “Don’t open it for anyone else. Got it?”
You nod quickly.
“There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom in the linen closet, top shelf. It should have everything I need. Go, and wait for me there.”
You nod again as his lips meet your forehead before letting you go, disappearing back to the office and shutting the door.
It’s as if your body and mind are on autopilot. Get to the bedroom. Lock the door. Find the first aid kit. You repeat it over and over until you're safely behind the closed door.
The kit was easy to find, nestled in the closet right where he had said to find it. It was larger than most, not a generic one you would find at the store. His was a pack full of anything that he might need should something go wrong in this lifestyle.
Sitting it on the bed, you rummage through it pulling out gauze and antiseptic and sitting them to the side. It’s only when you take a breath to calm your rattled nerves you notice your hands are covered in a mixture of the dead security member and Steve’s blood. You rush to the sink when it suddenly feels too suffocating to look at.
The white marble turns a murky red hue as the warm water washes over you but it isn’t enough. Your gaze drifts to the mirror where you spot splotches and smears all over your robe. In your haste you had forgotten it was the only thing you had been wearing. The silk now surely ruined.
You quickly shed it, tossing it into the bin and turning on the shower. From your torso to your bare feet, a crimson sheen stains your body. The water rinses the color away, finding yourself scrubbing as if you couldn’t get clean enough. Flashes from that night come flooding back, like a gaping wound, fresh and raw to the forefront of your mind.
You didn’t notice or hear him enter, muffled by the sounds of your own sobs echoing in the room, mixed with the sensation of drowning in your own head. Hot tears spill over your cheeks, while your cloth scrubs at your skin. You had been rubbing at the same spot, now aggravated and flaming, as he gently wraps a hand around your wrist.
Your tear-filled, puffy eyes meet his with a snap of your head.
“He’s never going to st—stop.” You hiccup, the words getting caught in your throat.
“Hey,” his voice comes out soft, moving to gently cup your cheek, stepping into the shower fully clothed, not caring that his expensive Italian loafers were getting soaked in the process, probably ruined by the events of tonight anyway but it didn’t matter to him. You are all that matters.
Your fingers curl into the soppy fabric, gripping onto him as if he might disappear. His arm wraps around your middle, pulling you further into his chest with a warm, lingering kiss to your temple.
“I swear to you here and now that I will end this. He won’t hurt you ever again.” He peels you away from his embrace enough to grip your chin, making your gaze shift upward, focusing solely on him. His hand slid up, cradling your jaw as he ran his thumb across your cheek. His hazel eyes full of adoration, sparkling with his own unshed tears. “Believe me, Tesoro. He will NEVER get to you as long as I have a single breath left in my body.”
His words were laced with such sincerity and conviction it made your chest ache.
That was it, something in the way he looks at you. Clothes soaked, blood still seeping from unseen wounds and attention solely on you, a switch flips. You were overcome with the unrelenting need to take care of the man in front of you, always so selfless, putting your own needs before his each and everyday. You want nothing more than to show him the same.
“Let me.” You whisper, fingers deftly moving to unbutton his shirt. Your tears all but disappear, the task at hand pulling your focus. After everything he has sacrificed in your name, you could at least give him this, the only way you knew how.
“Tesoro.” He whispers, watching you work his buttons open one at a time, letting you peel the soaked fabric clinging to his form back from his chest and down his broad shoulders.
Your fingers drag across his skin, silently cataloging every cut and abrasion. A huge bloom of purple already paints his side. He automatically recoils from your touch with a slight hiss but he stands firm, letting you look over every inch of his bare torso. When your gaze lands on the gash across his bicep, worry etches across your face when you lean forward to gain a better look, careful not to touch it too harshly.
“Steve, this needs stitches.” You lament, frowning back up at him.
He assesses it with the same regard, sighing out when he realizes you’re right.
“We’ll finish showering, yeah? I’ll call the doctor right after.” He replies, hoping it was enough to satisfy your fears for now.
He looks back up expecting sheer panic in your eyes, but instead was met with something more primal and dark.
Your pupils are suddenly blown wide, lips slightly parted as you stare at him, releasing a heavy exhale. Seeing him like this, bare and bloodied, knowing that he had just taken a man’s life for you, makes your lower belly ache with desire. He did it all for you. A match was lit that couldn’t be extinguished, an unbridled desire that only he can satisfy.
“Tesoro–” He began, but you quickly cut him off, pressing your lips to his with an urgency and intensity you hadn’t felt before. Whatever he was about to say died on his tongue, when yours slipped into his mouth. His arms wound further around your waist, hoisting you up, hips pinning you against the shower wall. The cold tile on your bare back sends a shock through you, goosebumps litter your flesh, as you come to wrap your legs around him.
It was a fervent and frenzied need, both feeling the intensity of the moment. Hands begin to roam, as mouths explore and taste. Your bodies move against each other in perfect harmony, his clothed length presses further against your core making you moan with need when he grinds his hips firmly into yours.
He pulls away only to catch his breath for a moment, his forehead leaning against yours.
“Hey, look at me.” He utters, out of breath, watching as your eyes open slowly, half-lidded and full of lust. “I don't want to hurt you.”
“You won't.” Your lashes flutter, beading tiny droplets from the still running water, cascading against your cheeks. “I need you, Steve. I need this.” Rolling your hips into his, emphasizing your want and ache for him to take you, moaning at the much needed friction.
He groans, closing his eyes and murmuring, “you’re going to be the death of me,” leaning his head back momentarily. He could never deny you, not even now, bloodied and in need of medical attention but he didn’t care. He would always put you first. It had been weeks since he’d felt you like this, his desire was too much to contain.
You take the opportunity to pepper kisses along his jaw, then down his throat. Your lips ghost across his skin, sweet and tender. He all but growls when your teeth graze over that juncture between his neck and shoulder, nipping at his pulse point.
“Dove,” he rasps, voice laden with lust, his grip on you tightening just a fraction.
“Hmmmm?” You hum, lips continuing their path across any bared skin you could reach.
"Do you know what that fucking does to me?” He responds a moment later, eyes still closed as you pull away from his neck to look up at him.
He stares down at you then, the want in his eyes matching yours. Your legs slowly loosen their hold around his waist, still clinging to his neck as you let your feet touch back down to solid ground. There is a look of mild confusion that passes over his features before your hands move to his belt buckle. His lips part in a small “o” when he realizes your intentions. You work quickly to undo his trousers while maintaining eye contact, pushing them and his boxers down his narrow hips. He’s quick to toe off his loafers and discard the rest of his clothing, leaving them where they lay, in a puddle on the shower floor.
His gaze never leaves you, watching your every move with bated breath. Your eyes drift downward, his thick, heavy length already standing at attention.
You feel the muscles in his abdomen tense as your hand travels down his torso, his cock kicking up with anticipation. At your vantage point you could already see the glistening precum leaking from his ruddy tip, making you salivate.
With a soft touch, you wrap your hand around him, earning a soft groan as he steadies himself, leaning forward enough that his hands splay out across the tile wall, caging you in. Your thumb glides across his tip collecting the slick precum, before languidly stroking down and back up.
An involuntary moan is ripped from his chest, making you glance back up to his face. His eyes were closed, brow pinched in pleasure, head falling forward to rest on your shoulder, his breath fanning out against your damp skin.
He was letting you take the reins, no matter how much it pained him, trying to hold himself back until you were ready to give in and let him take control.
You slowly sink down while continuing your ministrations, your free hand raking down his body until your knees hit the floor below.
“Fuck,” he rumbles. “Dove, you don’t hav–”
He was cut off when your tongue meets the underside of his cock, licking its way up to his fat mushroom tip, your fingers wrapping tightly around his girthy base.
“Let me take care of you, amore.” You rasp out, your lips meeting his head, giving him no further room to protest as your warmth begins to envelope him, his grip coming to tangle in your wet locks at the back of your head.
You hum at the taste, your tongue swirling around his tip. The vibration makes his head spin, his hips buck lightly but he holds back, trying not to push you too far too quickly, but you welcome it. Your free hand snakes up his thigh, landing on his ass cheek, squeezing as you take him further into your wet, slick heat.
“Fuck, jus– just like that.” You hear him murmur above you when his cock hits the back of your throat.
Your doe eyes lock with his, as you begin to work his length. The site is almost too much for him to bear. The way your mouth molds around him and your eyes sparkle with unshed tears is almost enough to send him barreling over the edge but he doesn’t miss the way your thighs squeeze together beneath you.
“Fuuuck.” His hisses, his fingers gripping tighter to the hair at the base of your skull, preventing you from setting a more rapid pace. “Dove, mmmm… M’not going to last like that dolcezza, I need to feel you.”
You watch his face morph from an almost pained ecstasy to relief when you slowly pop off him, giving one last kitten lick to his sensitive tip before sighing softly, keeping your grip firmly planted around his base, finding your footing to stand. As much as you wanted to pleasure him, you knew he wanted to do the same for you and it was getting harder to deny the throbbing ache between your legs.
He cups your cheeks, lips finding yours in a searing kiss, tongues meeting and tangling in a rhythmic dance as you pull him close. He tilts your head for a better angle, his hand dropping to grip your waist. You're both panting, breaths mingling when you pull away.
“Bedroom?” You ask with a grin.
Your question was met with his hands finding the back of your thighs to lift you up once more, legs wrapping around him firmly, while he cut the shower off. Without another thought, he marches you into the bedroom, laying you down against the silk sheets, settling between your thighs, bodies still damp and heated.
His hips grind into yours, cock immediately sliding through your slick folds, his tip catching your clit deliciously on the up stroke. Your head falls further back against the pillow, mouth falling agape with a breathy whine, fingernails digging into his broad shoulders.
“Ooooh Steve.” You moan out, as he continues the motion, his lips finding your jaw, peppering hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck. Your hands begin to roam across his body, momentarily forgetting the cut across his arm, you graze it with your fingertips eliciting a hiss from him as your eyes shoot open.
“Baby,” You murmur, looking back up at him, soft and wanting. “Let me.” You push at his chest, hands splayed. He looks down, getting your hint as he moves off of you, scooting his back up against the headboard as you switch positions. He wasn’t helpless, but he was willing to let you once again set the pace.
Your thighs come to rest on either side of his as your ass sits flush against his lap, arms snaking around his neck, chests meeting. Thick chest hair brushes against your sensitive nipples, causing an eruption of goosebumps across your heated skin. You stay like that for a moment, breaths mingling, admiring the features that you know and love. A smile graces your face as you brush damp tendrils from his forehead, looking at him like he hung the moon. In many ways, he had. He was and forever would be your everything.
“I love you,” you breathe out, so close, your lips brush softly against his.
“And I love you, Tesoro. My Dove, my angel.” He whispers, his hand coming to cup your cheek as your lips collide. It was soft and languid compared to moments ago. The need and urgency is still there but you take a moment to explore each other, slowly and tenderly, wanting to savour the moment.
His tongue slips between your parted lips with practiced ease, as your hips roll against his, making you both moan in unison, your lower belly rife with aching need.
You reach a hand between you, wrapping around his length making him groan when you line him up to your weeping entrance, his tip catching allowing you to sink down just a fraction, enough to bury his head in your tight heat.
“Dove…” he all but whines out in a hushed whisper, eyes closed tightly letting his head tilt back against the headboard.
Keeping your eyes on him, you slowly ease down on his rock hard length without any barriers. Inch by inch, he slowly fills and stretches you, a welcome relief to your aching pussy. Seeing his brow pinched and scrunched with pleasure almost has you tipping over the edge already. His large hands grip your hips a little harder each time your body accommodates more of him.
You whimper when the stretch borders on painful. The sound knocking him from his daze, eyes snapping open to search your face.
“Hey, you okay?” He murmurs.
“Mmhmm…” Nodding quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face into the side of his neck, a soft moan escaping at his ample girth and length stretching you fully out when your thighs finally become flush with his.
No condom, nothing between the two of you, your pussy flutters at the mere thought of him freely releasing into you.
"Fuck," He growls, cock twitching at the feeling of your tight cunt surrounding him. "I've missed this so goddamn much.”
His words make you clench, the burn slowly subsiding into a more pleasurable feeling but you make no attempt to move, relishing the contact and closeness of his body pressed into yours. His hard muscle against your soft flesh, your lips drag across his shoulder with a hum.
His chest heaves with a shuddering breath as your hips lightly rock, making you moan out in unison at the slightest relief. It wasn't enough but the feeling was overwhelming in the best way.
“Baby, you're going to have to move.” He urges softly, his own need beginning to be too much, words muffled against your hair, running a finger down the length of your spine with a soft hum.
You shudder against him but remain still, taking a shallow breath.
"Baby, I'm dying here." Kissing your temple, as the ache in his groin grows.
"Just, just take me Steve. Y—you feel so good. So—so full. Please." You rush out, breathless against his neck.
"Fuck," he hisses through gritted teeth, coaxing you to look up at him. Your eyes are half lidded, glazed over, tears threatening to spill over your lash line.
"I don't want to hurt you.”
“You won't.” You moan when his hips piston ever so slightly giving you both a little much needed friction.
“Okay, baby, just–” He grunts, kissing your forehead, gripping your hips to help ease you up. A hiss escapes your lips as he slips free.
You move to the side, letting him guide you back against the mattress, head falling into the feather pillows with a soft giggle.
He moves to quickly seat himself between your parted thighs, weight pressing you further into the bed with a heavy sigh. His weight supported with his forearm resting beside your head, his touch trails up your side slowly, teasingly against your heated skin.
His cock sits snugly between you, pressed firmly against your heat but he makes no attempt to penetrate, instead his hand moves to shift the loose strands of hair from your face to look directly in your eyes, fingertips tracing lightly down your jaw.
“I love you. I'll never let anything happen to you ever again. I—goddamnit, I should have gotten you out of there sooner.” His gaze shifts from you as he internally scolds himself, yet again. He can't stand to see the faint bruises still littering your body.
Both of you knew the risks going in. You would gladly relive your worst days with Nik to have Steve just like this.
“Amore mio.” Lifting his chin back up to face you. “I'm here now, that's all that matters. I love you, Steve.”
You press your lips firmly to his, feeling him melt further into you letting his fears and thoughts subside for now, he reaches between your bodies to take his length, running it between your slick folds bumping your clit, once, twice before bringing his tip to your leaking entrance, catching your gaze momentarily, seeking your permission once more, knowing exactly what was to come.
“Tell me, tesoro, this is what you want. I need you to use your words.” Pressing just a fraction inward, your fingertips grip his biceps leaving crescent shaped indents behind, his cock head breaching just enough to make you feel his girth, your walls fluttering as if trying to pull him in of their own accord.
“I need you to fuck me. Use me. Make me yours.”
The last few words leave your lips with a breathy moan, punctuated with a gasp as his cock slides home in one fluid snap of his hips. You throw your head back against the pillow with a resounding cry of his name.
He bottoms out with a groan, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, closing his eyes against the feel of your cunt snugly fitting around him. He smirks when you let out a small whine, hips shifting slightly with impatience. He pulls out slowly, plunging back in quickly, stealing the breath from your lungs.
He’s not soft, nor gentle, setting a near brutal pace, in and out of your heat, his head kissing your cervix with every inward thrust, brushing that sweet spot along your frontal wall with each pass.
He nudges his nose down your jaw, lips right by your ear as he speaks, sending goosebumps across your flesh despite the burning sensation building within you.
“You're mine. This pussy... is mine.” He growls, words going straight to your core, clenching around him as he drives into you.
“That's it. You like that, huh? That tight little pussy knows who it belongs to. Mmmph.” His thrusts continue, spurred by your high pitched moans and mewling, your body writhing beneath him.
“Yeah, that's right, she's all mine. And I'm going to give her exactly what she wants.” Your bodies are meshed together, molded perfectly, fitting against one another like puzzle pieces. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer and somehow impossibly deeper.
“Steve!” You cry out, his cock hitting that bundle of nerves within you that only he seems to know how to find.
“Dove…” He grunts out, trailing hot open mouthed kisses across your shoulder and collar bone, breath fanning across your skin, his continuous ministrations pushing you closer to the edge.
He momentarily pauses his movements, looking down at you, lifting himself up to make a little space between your bodies to slide his hand down your damp skin. Fingertips trail down your abdomen, going lower still, over your mound, stilling as he slips his skilled digits between your already parted folds. His cock still stretches you out, as he brushes your clit, ever so softly but making your hips jolt nonetheless.
“Steve!” You moan, your hand wrapping around his wrist to keep him there, as if he would somehow leave you wanting. Your back arches, when his mouth finds your breast, tongue swirling around your nipple, drawing it into his mouth and wrapping his lips firmly around you, pleasure flooding your veins.
His fingers begin to draw soft circles across your puffy, aching clit, as lewd moans spill from your lips. Your fingers grip the sheets below you, back arching further still, cunt clenching him tightly when he applies the perfect amount of pressure.
“Fuuuck, Dove.” He groans, slowing down his thrusts to an achingly slow pace making you feel every single inch of him. Every vein, every ridge pushing slowly in and out of your tight channel making your eyes roll back with a high whine as your belly tightens with pleasure. He stares down at you, eyes half lidded, ready to let go at any moment, but staving off his own release, savoring the moment, cock twitching with anticipation eager to watch you come undone beneath him.
“That’s it baby, taking me so well.” He coos, drawing tight circles against you, his free hand gripping your hip to hold you in place as his thrusts start to pick up, angling his own hips to push deeper than before, fucking you just the way he knew you liked it.
“Steve!” You whine, voice raspy and hoarse from overuse. “Come with me! Come in me!”
He groans, hips faltering just a moment at your words before regaining some semblance of composure, as a particular hard thrust sends you reeling.
“Anything you want.” He murmurs, closing his eyes at the way your pussy hugs him tightly.
You cry out, as his cock head rams into your frontal wall over and over, pushing you closer to the edge.
“That’s it Dove.” He murmurs, hand falling away from your core to grip your hips to pound into you. His thrusts get sloppy, the sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixing deliciously with sounds from you both.
Your eyelids flutter shut, lost in pleasure as stars dance behind them. Your cunt clenches around his cock like a vice, making a string of curses and moans fall from his lips as he works you through it. His hips stutter, pushing himself deep one last time before spilling inside of you with a groan at the way your tight walls milk everything he has to offer.
His chest heaves, letting go of your hips to lean back over your body, chest pressing into yours, leaning on his forearms, so as to not crush you entirely. Your lips quirk up into a grin as you glance up at him, his face hovering over yours.
This is the afterglow that you want to forever live in. The sheer pleasure you just experienced mixed with the pure, unending love for this man above you, his hazel eyes reflecting the same adoration you feel.
You brush the hair back from his sweaty forehead, while he catches his breath.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asks so genuinely it makes your heart ache.
You smile so brightly that those little crinkles at your eyes that he loves so much become visible before sending you a dulcet one back.
“No, amore.” You hum, hand drifting to softly cradle his cheek. “It was perfect… You… are perfect.” You add, kissing the tip of his nose.
“You’re sure?” He murmurs, lips finding yours as you nod, hand reaching the nape of his neck to pull him in. It was languid, and tender. Unhurried and unbothered as you suddenly feel like you have all the time in the world.
His body shifts, weight pressing you further into the mattress, his softening cock slips free making you all but whine at the loss, which only makes him grin against your lips.
“You’re insatiable.” He tuts, with a breathy laugh fanning out across your face when he pulls back enough to see the adorable pout you were sporting.
“For you? Always…” You whisper.
A few more moments of bliss until you notice the red streaks across his arm. You frown, eyes darting there and back. He immediately notices the shift in your mood knowing exactly where your mind was headed. Pleasure had clouded your thoughts, letting you forget about those wounds, still fresh on his body.
“It’s okay, tesoro.” He murmurs against your forehead, planting a kiss there. “I’ll call the doctor.” Further adding the reassurance you needed to hear.
He moves off of you entirely, taking his warmth with him as the weight of earlier events come crashing down. You stay quiet, pulling the sheet over you watching him grab the phone from the bedside table and pressing it to his ear, barking orders and telling someone to call the physician.
Later that night, after stitches and a hot bath, you were cradled tight beside him, his fingertips dancing across the soft skin of your hip while yours drag across his chest while you lay in bed, eyelids growing heavy. Unwilling to shut your eyes completely and surrender yourself to sleep because you were too afraid he might disappear.
He could feel your eyes on him, even in the dark room filled with comfortable silence and soft breaths. It suddenly occurred to him you must be feeling the same sense of panic or helplessness he had those short few weeks ago. You were both human, flesh and bone. Neither he nor you are invulnerable. Life, like everything else has an expiration date but he was determined to make the rest of the time that you have together mean something more, no matter how long or short it may be.
He was determined to end this. Once and for all.
He was deep in thought, unnoticing when your hand had stilled against his chest, only knocked from thought when he heard your soft sleepy hum of an exhale. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, with a heavy exhale of his own letting his eyelids fall shut. Tomorrow would be full of chaos but right now, within these four walls it was just the two of you.
The days ahead would be arduous and long. He knew the reward would outweigh the risks and he was now willing to lay everything on the line, including his throne and keys to the kingdom to keep his promises to you. You were his to keep, his to protect and he would make sure no one ever laid a finger to you again.
Taglist: (If you guys are still interested in this story!) @thecreelhouse @teen--marvel @micheledawn1975 @bunnyhargrove @tacobelle @madaboutjoe @hazydespair
summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.
divider by @firefly-graphics !
Taglist 🏷️ (send an ask to be part of my taglist for this series!)
Bucky is quiet the ride over, dark steel greys surveying the road eagerly, like he was waiting for someone, or something to give him a reason to jump out and spill blood.
The wheel wains in his grip, and his dark hair falls over in waves, pushed back behind his ears and smelling of pine nut and mint. There's a hint of a smile on his face, he knows you're watching him.
You avert your gaze quickly, looking towards the mountain trees on either side of the asphalt road ahead.
The relief you had thought would fill you as Bucky pulls into the potholed road of your apartment is blank, and your chest fills vacant without the heat of it. Your mind is restless, and the entire ride over had given you ample time to think over everything that had happened earlier.
You had folded and unfolded every piece of information Bucky had told you about Steve and all it had done was make you feel like you were intruding, like you were given privy to something you had no right knowing. Like peeking through the cracks under closed doors as a child listening in on their parents.
Where your street had once been busy with loitering huddles of gaunt faced men, a quiet murmur settles over the ground floor of your apartment complex, all the way up to the hallway to your place.
And as you pass by a few stragglers who blanch when Bucky shifts his hard gaze towards them, stuttering over their own feet and rushing back to their alleyways, you have an inclination that it was all Steves doing.
His reach was absolute.
You didn’t know what to feel, you’ve known displacement for too long.
Separating from your betrothed, separated from the life you had been half folded into, separating from the very syllabus of your name.
The spaces between the letters get further and further as the years go by. Until you can hardly remember if your namesake is really yours, just a frightening sound that came out of your husband's mouth.
This is different though. Until now, your instinct has always been right. And yet, when you think of Steve? When you try to find footing in your gut it comes up wobbly and unsure.
Was he something more than he let on? Did he only uncover pieces of himself for his own benefit?
Bucky had told you he had lost his own wife, and young too. Forced to be exposed to the brutality of the world before he could even get a chance to indulge in youthful recklessness.
You feel a sense of empathy for him, but also, also surprise. It isn’t the murder, or your own husbands doing that causes a slight slip of your heart. The truth is much more foolish instead.
There was a time Steve was ready to forsake this entire life, live forever looking over his shoulder, turn back on tradition that was as deep as marrow, all for love.
You could laugh if you had remembered what that felt like. The thought outright unnerves you. Steve? The gluttonous leader who held sanctions of New York with an iron fist?
It drives a pit in your stomach when you think too hard about what it means.
There’s a fiery jealousy that swarms you, you had never understood the wielding power that love carried all your life. It was a feeling, just like any other was it not?
Yet it had men like Steve falling to his knees!
And all that swarms your mind is how it’s so unfair, that you’ve never experienced such a thing. That you may never will. Forced to succumb to the life that was only half yours, down a path so far the ground had changed beneath you.
What did it feel like to give in? To show all your misgivings with unabashed apprehension? To let yourself, all of it, to another person?
Anything close to a love like that had come from the faded memories of your father, his warmth and deep gritted protectiveness over you. And that had been stripped from you quicker that you were able to forsake it.
You suppose that wasn't meant to be dealt in your cards, which you had come to understand were drawn years ago. You lie to yourself, but during some nights the aching desire to feel something, to taste the deep gripping love that had caused even Steve to lose focus explodes deep in your gut.
Your longing for connection was something you hid well, and god didn’t you get awfully good at hiding these years? Fit yourself in nooks and crannies that were too small, smoothed out your jagged edges to click into the puzzle pieces.
And yet, the empathy you had silently shared, the intimate conversation you had had with Steve in your mind is stamped out with swiftness as Bucky walks you to your door.
That was then, now Steve had made it perfectly clear where he stood. The cool indifference and hardening this life caused had stolen any shine or hope that Steve may have held those years ago. Everything he did now was calculated, for the betterment of broadening his kingdom.
He might as well have died along with her.
Bucky leans against the hallway, eyes surveying the decrepit halls lit by overexerted linoleum lights. You hesitate a moment, before popping your keys into your door, twisting it this way and that to get it to open.
You flinched as the door opened wide, almost like you were expecting someone to be standing right behind it, waiting for your arrival before pouncing. You’re a child, waiting for the ghoul in the closet to jump out.
Yet all that is there is the same peeling walls of your small entryway and some shoes and a coat strewn to the side in your haste to get to the diner early those days before.
You’d much prefer the monster.
Days, it had only been days, so why did it feel like a lifetime since you stepped foot into your home?
You don’t know what you were expecting, for your apartment to change when you had been kept away from it unceremoniously? For someone to have cleaned out the dishes lying in the sink, and ruffle the pillows lying on your old sofa?
You had craved mundanity for so long, craved consistently at a time where you didn’t know which face of your husband you would meet those days.
When the monster living underneath your husband's skin would jump out.
But now, you crave something more. It simmers right under your skin, deep within your chest and its shadowy fingers flutter over every inch of you.
Your apprehension is evident by the way Bucky shifts his way towards you stuttering frame.
“Hey, I wouldn't be so keen on coming home to this place either. Those carpets don’t look that inviting" Bucky replies, there is a sight lilt in his voice as he drags his eyes across your depressing furnishing.
You cut your eyes towards him, narrowing your lids.
“Not everyone lives in an exorbitant palace you know” You gruffly reply, shuffling into your door in a way that was more spite than eagerness.
Bucky breaks out in a grin that takes up half his face, his hand stuffed into his suit pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.
“Talking like a woman who hasn’t done just that half her life” Bucky replies, cocking his head to the side.
Oh right, your husband's estate that took up half of the city. One that was never, and would never be in your name.
You drop your handbag onto one of the hooks attached to the hallway, turning towards Bucky with a sigh.
“That’s different” You reply evenly
“Oh yeah? How so?” Bucky murmurs, eyes shining with a smile
“I was never welcomed in that home- house. God it would never be a home no matter how many architects and designers dressed it up. You think I escaped ‘cause it was my safe haven?” You cock your head to the side and Bucky’s face evens out. The smile adorning his features morphs back into his face as a look passes through his eyes.
“You don’t have to worry about that with Steve-”
“Oh yeah? Because he is the most upfront person to talk to. Right. This place, as depressing as it looks, is solely mine. It’s the only thing I have on this goddamn earth that hasn't been mauled and changed with my husband's fingers. Or the life he leads. You might not understand it, how important that is but-”
“I do. Trust me” Bucky replies, cutting you with and he offers you a nod that was more understanding than half the world's he promised to you.
Can I? You wonder thoughtfully. Was this just a part of some elaborate plan that Rumlow had clued you on? You were everywhere all at once, topsy turvy and turned inside out. This was the life you had to live now.
“Good” You say instead, wringing your fingers as Bucky’s phone begins to buzz from his pants pocket.
You wait for him to reach for it immediately, but he doesn't, just remains quiet as he taps his foot against the hardwood floor. There seemed to be a look of understanding that passed between you when he had racked his fist against the wall adjacent to your door.
The blues of his eyes twinkled under the sun peeking through the hallway window, and you didn’t realize it then but it was trust that shined in his eyes. Like the words he had shared with you warranted the same secrecy he held with the other men he worked with.
You had paid in flesh and blood for your silence, what more was another pound?
The ring runs through, and the silence soon returns between you both.
“I’m not going to the mouth off to half of Brooklyn that their most influential business man likes painting” You reply with a murmur, eyes darting left and right as if neighbors were listening in. Enough of them had watched you walk to your apartment door, eyes strained on Bucky and his shoes that shine too bright. Faces that had never even said hello had craned their necks as you passed, of course. Whispers of inquisition under their breath.
“I know you won’t” Bucky replies instantly. “Just- let him explain the rest of it, yeah? ‘S only fair you hear it from him”
“Fair?” You raise your eyebrows, “You’re talking about fairness now? Bullshit. If you were guided by some moral compass I wouldn't have been forced into this, you wouldn't even be in this life” You snark unconsciously.
Where does this all come from? You hadn't even raised an eyebrow at your husband, and now you were bad mouthing a man with a gun poking through his waistband. You look down, staring at the unusual stain in the hallway carpet you never quite knew what was. The anxiety and timidness you were used to coming back tenfold.
Bucky doesn't retaliate, just looks towards you with a feather-like smirk.
“I was wrong about you, y’know?” Bucky whispers, leaning in as if he were divulging in a secret he couldn't let be spoken in the open air.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re everything like Steve.” Bucky replies thoughtfully, a far away look taking over his dark features.
He’s miles away, reminiscing about parts of Steve that had been left in the dark. He looks younger than, when you notice the way his eyebrows scrunch and his locks fall flat over his face.
But it's enveloped back into Bucky in a second, a sad smile replacing his grin.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call”
Giving you one last nod, he turns back towards the hallway entrance and it takes you a few moments before you realise.
“But I don't have your number!” You call out, leaning out your door
His brown locks shift as he turns back to you
“You sure about that?” A raise of his eyebrows at the ping of your phone, waving you with two fingers.
You don't have to pull it out to know it's him. And you can't help but let out a chuckle before turning back and shutting the door firmly.
You find yourself accompanying your time scrubbing down the floorboard and yellowed walls of your home, filling your hours since Bucky had left with meager tasks. It helps you think, concentrating on little chores around the house so you don't have to think about the thoughts that rattled loudly in your mind.
It’s still well into the morning, and as the sun filters through your drapes you lean back on your heels nodding accomplished at the glint of the shining floors. The walls were an impassive yellow, never yielding no matter what cleaning products you threw at them, but beyond the old entryway carpet the apartment was lined with pristine hardwood floors that shined with a little elbow grease.
Not that shitty huh Bucky?
Wiping the sweat that had grown increasingly uncomfortable above your brow, you make way to your small enclosed kitchenette, swiping a cup from the drying rack before you watch the water fill to its glass edge. You gulp half of it down, before your much needed break is interrupted by the faint buzzing of your phone emitted from somewhere in the living room.
You forage for it quickly, searching till you find it wedged between the cracks of your couch. You pause for a moment, considering whether it might be Bucky, or Steve calling but as you see the vibrating screen of your manager's face you slide the receiver across the screen.
You brace yourself for the inevitable screech of her voice, you haven't been to work in days, an irregular for you considering the mountain of bills that left your bank account squandered each month. You needed this job, and now Steve hand upended your life, you fear it’ll slip through your fingers.
Manager calls, you pick up, she’s very quiet and apprehensive and is all sweet in a a way you remember she never had been before. She’s almost scared to talk to you, asking about a shift you could cover and you say yea without thinking. You need a distraction. Even if Steve had made it clear you no longer needed to worry about work.
“Hello?” You reply, eyebrows furrowing at the beat of silence that fills the space usually used up by ** loud un yielding demands.
“Y/N? Hey, how are you doing” Replies carefully, as if choosing her words.
“What?” You blurt out
You can’t help the confusion that puzzles your voice, who was this person? In the months you had spent working at that dead end job not once has she ever asked how you were. Not when you had spent half your break with your head in your toilet the first few months you had escaped. A cat on edge, nerves frazzled by even the slightest heavy stamp of a dress shoe.
What had changed?
You don’t have to kid yourself, you know the answer deep down. Him, it always goddamn is.
“Sorry, uhm I’m been doing good” You reply “I apologise for kind of just disappearing on you and the Diner”
“Oh that? That’s totally fine, once your friends cleared that up” 8 gulped, the sharp exhale of breath filling the receiver at the mention of this friend of yours.
“Friend?” You reply
“Don’t worry about it, I’m glad your doing alright. Uh-, so uhm ’s sister dropped her kids off at 4am last night at hers, she cant her shift. And * got SAT prep. Can you fill in if possible it’s totally okay if you can’t, I needed to stay back a few anyway-”
“Sure”
You needed the distraction, you felt stifled in the walls of your apartment. It wasn’t meant to be a prison, and yet the only time you felt truly free now was when you slammed the door behind you.
“-oh, Oh thank you! Thank you so much. If you could come in at 12, it’s just the afternoon shift. And if you need to leave for whatever reason it’s totally fine you don’t even have to tell me-“
“Mare?
“Yes?”
“Relax. I miss the diner and it’s crappy linoleum lights anyways”
Mare snorts into the receiver “The teams missing you too”
After passing a few more instructions on the wave of Russian tourists coming through Brooklyn this time of year you let your phone clatter onto the coffee table.
Sure, your manager could be a pain in the ass but being passive aggressive didn’t warrant a mob leader holding you at gunpoint.
You wonder what Steve had said to her to cause her to be this shaken up, she was the most stubborn woman you’ve ever met. It couldn’t have been easy to have her yield, at least not without some sort of real threat.
Especially in New York.
You rifle through your bag before grabbing your work uniform. The musty smell of old oil and grease makes you throw it haphazardly into the laundry basket before reaching for a clean shirt.
You try to look presentable, washing your face with the bathroom tap that never not juts out cold water. You avoid your reflection when you pay your face dry, which is interestingly enough, hard to do since it’s well..your face.
Drawing the wisps of coils that spring free you pull your hair back into a bun. You don’t bother with makeup, it never quite sat right on your face when you did it. Reaching for your bag and throwing your phone and the rest of your miscellaneous, you hurry down the steps of your apartment complex.
Popping in your earphones as you step into the train carriage, you memorise the dock and pull of the train ride till you feel your stop. Your music swims through your veins, and you breathe it in before opening your eyes to the tram doors opening.
Summary: There’s no shortcut to you love, but that won’t keep Steve from trying to earn it the hard way
Word count: 2,830
Content/warnings: lil but of yelling, angst, some softness, ummmmm some not so nice play between coworkers, rage throwing, swears, mentions of death and dead bodies
Author’s Note: once again, this isn’t exactly how I saw this going, but I’m so excited for you to read!
Your feedback is appreciated in all forms! Comments, reblogs, and asks are golden
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
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You were already muttering to yourself as you walked up the steps to your apartment. This week had been grueling at work, but at least you were wrapping up a bunch of cases!
The paper work alone had kept you busy thus far, not to mention the new cases that were stacking up while you tried to finish and submit your analyses. Your closeness to the finish line on this particularly long case didn’t negate the fact that your days were still long, though. You were getting into the precinct well before sunrise and leaving far after sunset, hardly even eating in between.
As you pulled out your keys on the final flight of stairs, you were praying that you had another freezer meal left after weeks of depleting your food stores, when an unmistakable smell hit you. You sprinted up the last couple of steps to see a paper bag sitting on your doormat.
With a groan, you brought the package inside and tossed it unceremoniously on your kitchen table as you set down your bag and keys. When you peeked inside, you saw a note.
“Decks. I’m sorry. I know this is far from a proper apology, but I want to show you how much I care. I hope you’re doing well and will consider talking soon. -SR”
He got one thing right. It was far from a proper apology. And your tiredness and lack of emotional regulation was catching up to you. You weren’t really even mad at Steve nearly as much anymore as you truly thought about the situation he was in over the past couple weeks, but this was still too much for you right now.
Who was he to think he deserved forgiveness for this gift, and his constant messages checking up on you, and who knows what else kind of surveillance you were under?
Before your conscious brain could even catch on, you picked up one of the containers of pasta, shaking your head fervently. Even looking at this gesture was pushing you towards the tipping point.
It started as a whisper, losing control, rising in volume and upsettedness.
“No….no…no….no, NO!”
In a split second the container was out of your hand and launched across the living room of your apartment. You looked on in terror as red sauce was all over the window and the container laid separated on the floor, although surprisingly not cracked. Just as quickly as you’d thrown it, regret started to seep in. Regret at being so stupid, regret at wasting food. You sat on the couch, your eyes nested in the heels of your palms as you took a sharp breath, preparing yourself to deal with the mess you made. It wasn’t your best moment, but at least what you did next was in your control.
You got back up out of the plush cushions with a vengeance and stomped over to the window, picking up the container on the way. You carefully dropped to your knees and silently scraped the strewn noodles off the glass, back into the container, and picked up the meatball from the floor, gathering as much sauce as you could by scooping it with your hands. You were sniffling as you continued with your mission until as much as possible was back in the container. It felt like such a shame to waste this food, you couldn’t do that. Couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away, so you came up with a better solution.
Once it was all repackaged and tossed in the fridge, and the windows and floor were thoroughly wiped down and sanitized, you went to your room, showered, and crawled straight into bed without having eaten at all.
You wordlessly strutted into the office the next morning, sunglasses on to hide your eyes. That was probably for the best, they could’ve turned someone to stone if you weren’t careful. In your hand was the pasta container in a fresh paper bag from your stash, swinging with your gait. As you entered the labyrinth of desks and passed Walker’s, you dropped the bag without making eye contact, speaking shortly in passing.
“Happy birthday. Never say I don’t do anything for you. Didn’t get any for Scott.”
He looked up from his computer, head following your swift movements, before opening the bag and beaming. You’d never gifted him your food before. And with that, you waltzed straight into the lab, shutting and locking the door behind you.
Just as you were finally submitting a few more evidence files, you were interrupted by knocking at your door. You didn’t want to disrupt your flow by opening it, so you just turned up your music louder to cover the sound of the jiggling handle. Except the door busted open and there stood Scott. He took a step in the lab, still a good distance from you, a large lab table in his way, and closed the door behind him. With a huff, you turned down the music.
“Fuck, I regret giving you the spare key to here. What do you want?”
Scott shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “Simple. Pasta. How come Walker gets some? We hate him.”
You lightly scoffed, eyes still glued to your computer screen, double checking your entry was right. “Trust me. You don’t want that pasta.”
He cocked his head to the side, putting his hands on his hips. “Um, yeah, I do.”
“Um, no. No you don’t. You don’t deserve it anyway. I know you knew about Steve and you didn’t tell me.”
Scott rolled his eyes and threw his arms up. “You know that wasn’t my place. Plus, I kinda thought you knew. I’m surprised you didn’t, you’re smarter than all of us- but I swear that’s not a jab!”
He was doing his best to cover his ass now, holding his hands up in surrender, unsuccessfully placating you before he sighed.
“But I know you know I wouldn’t work with him if I didn’t think it was what’s best for the city. You and I have always seen eye to eye on that. However, you know what I can’t get on the same page as? You thinking Walker’s deserving of eating the food of the gods out there.” He pointed, gesturing to the scene going on through the slits of the blinds of your window.
You rolled your eyes with a groan. “Walker is more than deserving of my floor pasta. I literally scooped that up off the floor last night.”
Scott turned around and you both looked out the window now to see Walker wiping his face on the cuff of his sleeve, the container empty. Gross. Not classy at all.
“If he’s that bad of a detective that he couldn’t tell the food was tampered with, he deserves the floor pasta for sure.”
Scott laughed and shook his head as he conceded.
You nodded along with him. “Now is there anything else you need to talk to me about? Perhaps a case? For our jobs?”
“No, pasta was pretty much it.”
You walked to the door and opened it, gesturing for him to leave. “Okay, then get out, otherwise next time I make your coffee it’ll be with water from my mop bucket.”
Over the next few days, it was more of the same at work. You were exceptionally busy, but an idle mind would’ve driven you crazy, so it was better this way.
Earlier this morning, you had been called in to a crime scene and were currently working on shoe print matches, which was a nice change of pace from the usual numbers on your computer screen that were starting to make your head go dizzy.
It was kind of enjoyable, too, smearing the tread of the sneakers in mud to simulate the way the suspect ran on the scene. Albeit, a little messy, but again, a good switch-up from the same old and it was keeping you in a decent mood. That was until a knock came on your door.
You were suspecting it was Lang asking if you’d made any progress, and you’d kept the door unlocked now as you cooled down over the past few days.
“Come in.”
You didn’t look up from your work, not wanting to lose your place or focus, but your peripheral vision was just good enough to make out a tall form that was most definitely not Scott. The black, high-quality, tailored fabric stood out like nothing else you knew of.
“Steven, great to see you. Again. Dressed to the nines, huh? Because that was smart to do in a lab. Full of chemicals and blood and mud. Smooth move.”
Your voice dripped with sarcasm, eyes unmoving from behind your magnifier, looking at the mud smears on one of the shoes.
He was taken aback by your tone, even though he was expecting it.
Steve cleared his throat. “I-um… yeah. These are my work clothes. Kinda gotta wear them everyday. But trust me, they’ve been through worse than your lab.”
You slammed the shoe still in your hand down on the counter, finally looking up at him. “Quit saying that! No,” your voice lowered, “business man… should ‘go through worse.’”
You wished he was just trying to reference how filthy money is, but you knew he probably saw way more blood than you had in your entire career.
“I’m just so sick of this.”
He slung the garment bag he was carrying that you just just now noticed over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him. “Decks, I own other clothes, you’ve seen me in them, why is it such a big deal? I’ve got work to attend to. Would it make you feel better if I changed into sweatpants every time I came to see you?”
You struggled, almost at your wit’s end. “You coming in here in all the sweatpants in the world couldn’t fix this. But… well I don’t really know if I’m work or not for you. Just another enforcer of the law? You know what! Maybe that’s better. So what can I help you with Mr. Rogers? Need to come in and ID another dead body? Huh? Need to consult on business conglomerates? Here I am, a public servant, at your service, I guess.”
You threw your arms out to the side and offered him a bow. That escalated quickly, but it was honestly much kinder than what you expected to come out.
Steve tossed his head back and to the side, appalled at the image before him. “C’mon, Decks, you know that’s not why I’m here. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you for so long, but I just couldn’t let you know everything. It was for your own protection.”
You scoffed. “First off, you don’t get to call me Decks anymore. Congratulations. You’ve been demoted below Walker. From now on, don’t even use my name. You can call me hey you. And secondly, my own protection? Yeah, it definitely seemed like I was being protected when you made me compete in a game of pool face-to-face with the head of your rival mob! And I’m feeling soooo protected at the fact that one of my best friends was kidnapped. I guess that’s fine with you, though, right?! Because you never really liked him anyway.”
Steve took a step forward and sighed. “Woah woah, hey. I like Curtis. And more importantly, I was the one who ran point to get him back.”
You nodded, a bitter smile on your face. “And what if you hadn’t? Would you still be standing here like this? Would he be another obituary in the paper? Reduced to that? A case some small town CSI has to solve? Steve, I don’t want to be on that side of it all. Because yeah, I would’ve done anything to get Curtis back, but I don’t think I would’ve been able to live with myself in the aftermath. I investigate dead bodies, I don’t make them. But you seem pretty nonchalant about this all, so what about you, Steven? Ever make a dead body? It’s different when it’s someone close, huh?”
Steve ran a hand over his face as he let his head fall back to look at the ceiling before pulling his gaze back to you and placing a hand on his hip. “Are you asking me that as a genuinely curious friend or a person who works in a police precinct?”
Your voice had gotten so much smaller now. You knew it wasn’t all his fault, but you were still sort of hurting. Every time you tried to push it down, it somehow got dredged back up, and now, it was fully exposed with Steve here in front of you. “Which one do you think I value right now? Which one didn’t betray my trust? You or my job?”
Steve hung the garment bag over the stopper on the back of the door and held his hands in front of him as he took another step closer. His voice was calm, and inarguably earnest.
“Decks, put me in handcuffs. If that’s what makes you happy, if that’s what makes you feel safe, I’ll do it. But I don’t ever purposely put people in danger. I’m the one controlling things so they don’t get too out of hand. People are going to do drugs. People are going to illegally buy and sell arms, but this way, we’re at least regulating it and keeping power out of the hands who want anarchy. People like Lloyd. I’m in this industry so I can keep the people I care about safe. So I can keep you safe. And I just have to work outside the law so people inside the law like you can do your job the right way.”
You sniffled, ignoring the burning that was behind your eyes. “So what, you’re saying you made a sacrifice for me? I didn’t ask you to. Your altruism isn’t going to win me over.”
You took off your gloves and took a step around the lab bench, finally without anything in between the two of you. His body almost relaxed with your new proximity.
“I know. It’s not meant to. But just know that even if I didn’t tell you the whole truth for entirely too long, and you don’t believe the reasons I’m giving you, my care for you has been true this entire time.”
Your lips parted in a breath, unsure of what to say at the genuine care and affection he still held for you. But your mind was fighting your body, trying to deny it, so you forced yourself to break eye contact, looking down and to the side at the corner of the room.
“So, uh….why did you come here? What’s in the bag?”
Steve’s brow drew together, the corners of his lips fighting to turn upwards at the fact you weren’t fighting him right now, but that could change any minute.
“Oh! Yeah, I’m, here to return your clothes. You left them at my place.”
You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “You can burn them. That wasn’t a fun day. Wait-actually, that pantsuit was expensive. So you can burn it, and then you can pay me $500 in cash so you and I don’t have any traceable transactions. You’re used to that, right?”
Steve laughed dryly, brushing off the last part of your statement. “You know what? I don’t really have too much cash on me right now, but how about this?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open. You watched intently as he slid out the small piece of black plastic. Wait- was that plastic? He handed it over to you between his middle and forefingers. God, his hands were so pretty, but you weren’t thinking about them too much when the weight of this gesture hit you.
“Steve, you can’t just give out your black card, especially so freely.”
He urged it towards you again. “I’m not giving it out freely. I’m giving it to you. And although you’ve not always been happy with me, you’ve never given me reason to not trust you. And you should know, my offer still stands. You walk into any of my businesses, whatever you want is yours.”
Without another argument, you grabbed the card from his hands and slid it into your back pocket, even if you had no intention to use it.
“Okay, but this is just because I really liked that suit. And don’t think I won’t max this thing out. Scott’s niece wants a trampoline and that’s just the beginning.”
Steve gave you a wink. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
You nodded, looking down and playing with your fingers. “Now get out of here before I have Walker arrest you.”
Steve turned on his heel, grabbed the garment bag, and walked out before you even looked up.
Next >
Bonus A/N: is everything perfect? No. Will it be eventually? Idk, you tell me how much you’ve psychoanalyzed my writing at this point.
Also, I really wanted to include the fact that canonically, Steve’s been pretty accepting when he gets arrested. Sure, he breaks out after, but in the moment, he doesn’t fight it. He knows what he’s doing is against the grain and I appreciate that about him.
Oh no, someone caught you doing a bad thing. Which one would you rather it be?
-You weren’t actually going to give the drink to your boyfriend, you think. Maybe? You’re just so angry with him. It’s your bad luck though that Steve catches you pouring a little antifreeze into your boyfriend’s whiskey.
-You should have googled some more, because cutting brake lines is even harder than you thought it would be. It doesn’t help that Ari finds you under the car, tools in hand.
-You’re stealing your ex’s cat because you believe it’s the morally correct thing to do. And you’re setting his house on fire because you want to. It’s just too bad that Bucky catches you with a cat carrier in one hand, and lighter fluid in the other.
Oh I love a scorned reader trying to get a little revenge.
Dark!Mafia Steve catches you red-handed. You can't do anything in his bar without him knowing. He'll help you finish off your ex but for a price. A wedding ceremony sounds fair to him. You agree, don't you? There's only one right answer mo chidre. If you give the wrong one, well, you can stay in his penthouse until you change your mind.
Dark!DBF Ari warned you about those stupid college boys. He's going to clean up your mess and in exchange, you're spending the weekend at his lake house. He's going to teach what it's like to be with a real man. Your first lesson is all about what happens when you don't listen to him. If you don't give him what he wants and he'll do the same, over and over.
Dark!FirefighterBucky knows you probably wouldn't have set your ex's house on fire if you knew the fire chief was staying across the street.
Lucky for you, he knows how to clean up a crime scene.
Lucky for him, you're such a deep sleeper that you don't wake up until after you're suspended from his bedroom ceiling.
It's Chapter 35. It's posting in 24 hours (well, 5 PM, tomorrow so around this time tomorrow). You're dressed up like a fairytale princess and Steve is taking you to a masquerade ball to show you off to all of Boston. But you have a feeling something is off...
What's going to happen?
Lloyd Hansen has planted a bomb at the event so he can kidnap you.
You share a dance with the devil (ah, Bucky) who tells you his devious plans.
A mysterious car w/tinted windows runs the limo off the road & danger ensues
You have a wonderful time but you get home to find it's been attacked.
Voting ended onSep 17, 2024
One of these is the correct answer. Let me know. 👿😈👿
mob!steve literally destroying anyone who hurt his little bubble [anon]
they both get into a fight and reader storms off after that she gets kidnapped and our stevie gets feral to find her (bonus: desperate reunion fking) [anon]
Content Warning: Mob!Steve x Reader, daddy!steve, angst, arguing, yelling, jealous!reader, asshole!steve, kidnapping, threat of violence, distressing themes, brief mention of torture, physical violence, minor character death, mention of blood, smut (make-up penetrative sex, possessive!steve, daddy kink, creampie), fluff.
His lips are on yours in a deep kiss, his hands roaming your half-naked body like it's the very first time. It's been so long since you felt him that it may as well be the first time. He gropes and rubs and strokes you, taking his time in exploring your skin.
"Daddy," You mumble into his mouth, grinding against his boner.
"What is it, my little bubble?" Steve asks you softly, squeezing your ass.
"Want you," You reply desperately, running your fingers through his beard.
"You've got me, bubby," He promises you, kissing your lips shortly. "Always."
Just as his hand slips down your ass and to your panties, his phone rings out. You think nothing of it, assuming he'll hang it up and throw it to the side like he usually does - but then he fucking answers it.
You sit up, straddling his waist and frowning down at him as he holds the phone to his ear. "Hello?" His voice is firmer, a slight frown in his brows as he exits daddy mode and enters boss mode. Seeing him so serious is turning you on even more, and you run your hands down his abs. Before you can get to his boxers, though, he grabs your wrists in his and gives you a warning look.
You're a little disheartened, but you hold back anyway. And then you hear the voice on the other side of the call. It's unmistakably that of a woman's.
"I told him to have them dropped off by last week," Steve replies to her muffled question. "Are they not there?"
You glare down at him when you realize it's his personal phone. Why is he talking to another woman on his personal phone?
With a huff, you get off him and get up to your feet. You clothe yourself with the dress he threw on the ground ten minutes ago, listening with a clenched jaw as he chuckles over the phone.
"Alright. I'll call you later to check in," He says before hanging up and looking over at you. "What are you doing, huh? Get back over here, bubble."
"I'm going home," You reply stubbornly, putting your shoes on.
Your words make him stand up with a deep frown on his face. "Home? You are home."
"I mean my apartment," You mutter.
"What?" The shock is clear in his voice. "I thought you were gonna rent that out?"
"Well, I couldn't find anyone who wanted it," You tell him casually.
"And so you just kept it?" Steve asks you incredulously. "As some sort of fucking backup home? You know how insulting that is?"
"No, Steven, you do not get to be angry right now," You say with a glare. "You're not the one who's just been treated like shit."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" He asks you wildly, throwing up his hands.
"We were about to have sex for the first time in two weeks and you picked up the phone!" You exclaim, hating that you have to spell it out to him.
"It was an urgent work call-"
"Oh, fuck you and your work calls," You cut him off bitterly.
His face falls and he raises a brow. "You wanna try that again, Y/N?"
"That isn't gonna work this time, Steven," You say, emphasizing his full name because you know how much he hates it when you call him that. "We haven't been intimate in a long fucking time, and just as we finally get somewhere, you pick up the phone to some other woman."
He lets out a scoff. "So, that's what this is about. You know, you've never been one for jealousy, bubble."
"Because you've never given me a reason to be jealous!" You retort, feeling your rage grow. "And I didn't miss the fact that it was your personal phone, Steven. What the fuck is that bitch doing with your personal phone number, huh?"
"Pepper would never call me unless it was urgent, so I gave her my personal number," He explains with narrow eyes. "You think I'd pick it up if it was my work phone?"
"So whatever Pepper has to say is more important than me?" You ask childishly, hating that be used her name as though they're best fucking buddies.
"That is not what I said-"
"All I'm hearing is that I'm not your priority," You tell him, folding your arms across your chest. "You promised that nothing would ever come before me - or was that a lie, Steven?"
"Don't be like this," He mutters, rubbing his forehead. "You know how much you mean to me."
A part of you feels bad, and you want to cuddle him and apologize- before you realize that you have absolutely fucking nothing to apologize for.
"We haven't been the same lately," You say regretfully. "You're always out late. You never call me when you're at work anymore. You take me for granted."
"That's not true," He insists. "Work has been crazy lately, you know that. I appreciate you more than anything."
"They're just words, Steven!" You exclaim, taking a step back. "They're just words you've gotten so good at saying that even you believe them. How many others did you practice them on before me?"
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Steve asks you harshly. "When I told you that you were the first woman I've ever loved, I fucking meant it."
"It doesn't feel like it!" You admit, going to pull off the ring on your left hand that he gave you in an attempt to throw it back in his face. The second Steve realizes what you're doing, he grabs your hands, glaring down at you.
"Don't you ever, ever fucking dare take that off," He warns you gravely, pure rage in his eyes.
"Why not?" You shoot, attempting to pull out of his grip but failing. "You've broken every promise it was meant to symbolize, anyway!"
"Stop being so fucking dramatic," Steve seethes. "You're still mine. You always will be."
Narrowing your eyes in an attempt to keep your tears at bay as you prepare to say the words you never thought you'd say. "I think we need a break."
The silence that grows is cold and merciless.
"How the fuck could you say that, Y/N?" He asks you bitterly. "How the fuck could you walk away from this?"
"It's not forever," You promise. "Just until we find ourselves again. This doesn't feel right anymore, Steve. You don't treat me the way you used to, and maybe we need to miss each other so we can appreciate each other again."
He stares at you blankly, and you know he's angrier than ever. Dropping your hands, his face falls. "Fine. Fuck off."
Your heart breaks at his harsh words. "Steve, I'm not breaking up with you. We just need some space-"
"I said fuck off," He repeats, unable to look you in the eyes. "Go on. Get out."
A whimper leaves your mouth before you race out of his room and out of the large home, fear filling you at the thought of losing him forever. What have you done?
In his bedroom, Steve lets out a hissed curse before picking up his phone and calling someone. "Hey, Barton. Y/N's about to leave; follow her home. And make sure there's two men stationed outside her apartment at all times."
Clint Barton is stressed out.
The immense weight of Steve's new deal with the Potts family combined with the new responsibility of keeping two men on you at all times is killing him. He's never been the best project manager, let alone multi-tasker, and it's this that allows him to facilitate two mistakes in one night.
"I don't mind delivering the samples," Bruce says.
"I've got the new guy on deliveries already," Clint tells him with a frown.
"But I wanna deliver them," Bruce insists with a frown. They both know the truth - the delivery is due on Western Street, which is located near to where a certain Natasha Romanoff lives.
Clint runs a hand through his hair, groaning. "Who's the other guy on Y/N watch?"
"Uh, Barnes, I believe," Bruce tells him.
"That's fine; let him know you're swapping with the new guy," Clint says with a shrug. "Just get your shit done ASAP, you hear me? You have one hour."
Bruce grins. "More than enough, boss."
"Yeah, yeah," Clint rolls his eyes. "Now fuck off, you horny idiot."
That's the first mistake that's made.
The second is made by Bucky Barnes himself.
"Listen, I gotta get my car from the garage," Bucky tells the new guy. "You alright with watching Y/N alone?"
Christian nods adamantly as Bucky pats his shoulder appreciatively before rushing away.
Well, Christian thinks to himself. That was easier than I thought.
You feel cooped up in your building, knowing that no matter where you go, Steve's men will follow you. You're in half a mind to call him and demand he make them leave you alone, but you can't give him the satisfaction and be the first one to give in.
Instead, you decide to do some late grocery shopping. Walking up and down the aisles will be a nice change from staring at your walls all day, anyway. You put on some cycling shorts and one of Steve's sweatshirts, because he is still yours and you'd be damned if he dared to think otherwise. Yes, he's a prick, but he's your prick.
Once you get outside, the man watching your building approaches you, making you frown. Does he not understand the concept of following from a distance?
"Hi, there," He greets you politely, offering you a smile. "Do you need a ride anywhere?"
You fold your arms across your chest and glare up at him. "If Steve knew you were talking to me, he'd cut your fucking tongue out, so do your job and stay 10 paces behind," You state curtly, before turning around and making your way down the street.
When you hear him following way too closely behind, you roll your eyes and turn back to him, ready to yell. But the second you see him, he raises his fist and thumps you on the head, knocking you out.
Bucky Barnes is contemplating taking all of his money out of the bank and running away to Australia where he can start a new, peaceful life, because when Steve Rogers finds out that Y/N and the guy who was supposed to be watching her building are both missing, it'll be Bucky's head on the chopping block.
"Buck?" Steve frowns when he sees the brunette waiting outside his office. "What are you doing here?"
"I, uh, I was on Y/N duty," He says blankly, wondering if this is the last conversation he'll ever have before dying.
"Okay," Steve says slowly. "You expecting a raise, or something?"
"No, of course not, boss. Looking after Y/N is my honor," Bucky replies obediently, before looking down. "Last night, me and the new guy, Christian, were watching her."
"The new guy?" Steve's hand clenches into a fist. "I told Clint I only want guys I trust watching her. The new guy was supposed to be on fucking deliveries."
"Yeah, I know," Bucky mumbles.
"Speak the fuck up and speak clearly," Steve booms. "What the fuck is going on?"
"Boss!" Sam Wilson shoots into the hall, his eyes wide. "Shit. We have an issue."
Steve rolls his eyes, not in the mood to fix yet another problem today. "What is it?" He asks flatly.
Sam's eyes are filled with fear, and he stays a few steps away from Steve so as to not incur his wrath. "Y/N's missing."
A bitter laugh leaves Steve's mouth. "Well, that's impossible," He says matter-of-factly. "There have been two men watching her at all times."
Swallowing, Sam glances at Bucky. "Last night, Christian Mado was left alone with her. We believe it was him that took her, boss."
Steve's blood runs cold. He can't help the images that immediately run through his mind- images of you lying in your own blood, beaten and bruised. Gory, heartbreaking flashes of you crying out in pain, calling out for Steve, begging for mercy.
"Boss," Sam says lowly, preparing for Steve's reaction. "What do you need us to do?"
With a deep inhale, Steve turns to Bucky with a cold look. "If you don't find her location within thirty minutes, I will rip your fucking heart out. Do you understand me?"
He really should have bought that ticket to Australia. "Yes, boss," Bucky replies weakly, his heart thumping in his chest.
"This was a stupid idea," The male voice mutters bitterly.
"You're a stupid idea," The female voice retorts childishly.
You've been subjected to this immature back-and-forth between what you really hope isn't a couple since last night when you were taken. The black fabric wrapped tightly around your eyes prevents you from seeing anything, but you can feel your arms and legs are tied to the wooden chair you're sitting on.
"Fuck this. I'm taking the blindfold off," The woman says before the noise of her heels clacking towards you sounds out.
"Are you insane?" The man asks her incredulously.
"We're gonna get rid of her once we're done, anyway," She replies casually, just as you feel her hands removing the fabric from your head.
When your eyes open, you're faced with a pretty redhead with a curious look on her face. The man behind her has dark hair and looks incredibly nervous. Looking around, you notice you're in a lavish living room, which takes you by surprise. If they're planning on killing you, why do it on their expensive white carpet? Amateurs.
"You're not scared," She mumbles, tilting her head. "Why aren't you scared?"
You roll your eyes at her. "The fact that you think you'll get away with this for much longer is laughable."
"Oh, really? It's laughable?" She asks passive aggressively, and you can tell she's pissed off. Raising her hand, she strikes your face and her rings cut your cheek. "How's that for laughable?"
"Pepper, don't!" The man yells, making you eyes widen.
"You're Pepper?" You ask her with a raised brow. You knew there was no sense in trusting a girl named after a seasoning.
She looks utterly frustrated as she turns back to him. "Don't use my fucking name, Tony!"
He gasps. "Now you've used mine!"
Pepper lets out a angry squeal and pulls on her hair before glaring down at you. "Little word of advice: never get married."
Now that you know that this is the infamous Pepper that Steve seems to have cosied up to, you can't help but laugh. "Oh, you've absolutely fucked up, Pep. You do realize Steve will be here any minute to take you down?"
"And do you realize that he doesn't care about you anymore?" She asks with a snort. "It's a well known fact that you guys have broken up."
"And you think that means he stopped caring about me?" You question her. "You have a warped outlook on love and relationships."
She says nothing, wordlessly walking over to the coffee table upon which lay a variety of torture tools. It makes you a little uneasy, but you have full faith in the fact that Steve will be here before she gets the chance to use any of them. He has to be.
"Why are you doing this, anyway?" You ask her with narrow eyes.
"Because I'm about to go into business with your dear Steve," Pepper answers, running her finger down the blade of a dagger. "And it would be mighty helpful for me to get a little inside information beforehand."
You laugh at that, shaking your head. "You really think I'm gonna give you anything? You might as well just kill me now."
Her face morphs with anger as she steps forward. "Listen here, you whiny little cun-"
She's cut off prematurely by her phone's obnoxiously loud ringtone. With a huff, she takes it out of her pocket, and her face lights up with delight when she sees the caller ID. "What a coincidence!" She sings, sending you a wry grin while waving her screen in your face like a child. "It's your man- oh wait, ex-man."
Excitement hits you. He knows. He knows she took you. He's probably on his way right now.
"Maybe he wants to fuck me, again," She wonders out loud.
You narrow your eyes. She's bluffing. There's no way Steve fucked her. There's no way.
"Cover her mouth," Pepper orders Tony, waiting until his hands are firmly on your face before answering the phone. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Rogers?"
You can just about make out his muffled voice from the other side, and he doesn't sound nearly as angry as you would have hoped. Instead, they seem to be having pleasant fucking small talk. Has Steve not realized that you're missing yet? Prick. You scream as loud as you can, but Tony's hands mute your voice. Your attempts to bite at his flesh fail as he stays strong, not affected at all by your teeth sinking into his fingers.
"Of course," Pepper says with a sultry voice, making you roll your eyes as she smirks. "In fact, you should come over right now and we can search for her together."
That throws you. He asked her for help? She's inviting him over?
"See you soon, honey," She says sweetly. "And Stevie, you know I'm always here for you. Just like the night at the docks last Tuesday."
You can hear your blood rushing around your head. Last Tuesday, Steve didnt get home until 4am. He told you he was taking care of something at work, and you didn't think anything of it. And why would you have? It's Steve. You trust Steve.
The second she hangs up, Tony pulls his hands away from your mouth with a grimace, and you glare up at Pepper. "Night at the docks?" You can't help but ask.
She laughs maliciously, throwing her phone on the couch behind her. "Ah, what a magical night that was. Steve just has the most magnificent tongue, don't you think?"
Don't react. She's lying. There's no way.
With a deep breath, you somehow remain calm. "You cheated on Tony?" You ask, looking over to him with a raised brow. "What are your feelings on this, T?"
"We have an open marriage," Pepper answers on his behalf. "It's not cheating."
Tony half-heartedly nods, but you can tell there's anguish behind his eyes. Poor little bastard.
"Steve's gonna be here in less than 10 minutes," Pepper announces, clapping her hands together. "So before we hide you away, I wanna have some fun."
She's good with those tools, you have to admit. At first, you assumed she laid them out to intimidate you, but it seems that Pepper Potts is a connoisseur of pain.
Sure, you've caught brief glimpses of Steve carrying out dirty work before, but that always seemed so far away. Sure, you've watched Sam shoot multiple people dead before, but those people weren't real to you. And yeah, Bucky literally cut the eyes of an overly-flirtatious waiter out right in front of you with a blunt bread knife, but all of those instances were just shows to you. You were but a spectator.
And now, you're the main fucking attraction.
Pepper burns, cuts and bruises you, leaving you weak and achy by the time the unmistakable sound of Steve's Porsche is heard from the driveway.
"Take her upstairs," Pepper orders Tony sternly. "If she makes a single sound, you shoot her dead. Understand?"
With a burst of motivation as you hear Steve's car door shut, you scream out his name in the hopes that he'll hear you. Tony rapidly unties you before holding a gun to your temple, silencing you.
"Keep your mouth shut," He says gruffly, holding your wrists tightly and dragging you out of the room and up the long, winding stairs.
Pepper opens the door for Steve with a sympathetic smile. "I'm so sorry this is happening, Stevie," She says, allowing him to come in.
"I just need to find her, and soon," Steve replies gravely, walking further into the house.
She leads him into the living room where any signs of her torture tools and the ropes they used to tie you up have disappeared. "Do you have any idea where Y/N might have gone?"
"She was abducted," Steve tells her, his hands clenching into fists at the thought of you being taken from him. "Someone is holding her against her will. One of my men betrayed me."
"Are you sure?" She asks him with a frown, stroking his bicep. "I know this may be difficult to hear, but she might have... ran away with him?"
His eyes narrow at her suggestion. "She was taken, Pepper. I know it." Why is she so against that idea? And why is she touching him so much? Is she just trying to comfort him? All he needs is you; not a fucking hug.
He came over because he knows Pepper has a lot of connections in this city, and if anyone can help him find you, it's her. God, he feels so guilty. If anything happens to you, he thinks he may die himself. He should've protected you. You should have been safe under his wing. Why did he ever let you leave that day?
"I'm just saying, Steve," Pepper begins, slowly wrapping her arms around his waist from behind him and resting her chin on his shoulder. "It's very possible that she chose to leave. You did just break up, didn't you?"
This is beyond a comforting hug. Steve may have been stupid in letting you go, but he isn't dense. He knows when a woman wants him. It disgusts him that, in the wake of your disappearance, Pepper thinks that her body could be what he needs to feel better.
Just as he's about to throw her arms off of him, he spots it.
There, on the ground. On the soft white carpet. It's unmistakable.
That ring is a one-of-a-kind. He had it specially made for you. There's no way anyone else could own one that even slightly resembled it, let alone look like an exact clone.
That's your fucking ring.
And next to it, making his stomach clench, are a few droplets of blood staining the carpet.
With a deep breath, Steve gently removes Pepper's arms from his chest and turns around to face. "Come here, Pepper," He mumbles, nodding once.
Smiling wryly, Pepper moves closer to him, resting her hands on his chest. Finally, she's got him. "Yes, Steve?" She asks softly, widening her eyes.
His hand moves up to wrap around her throat, making her legs squeeze together instinctively. He lowers his lips to her ear, making her shiver. "Tell me, Pepper," He whispers, wrapping his other hand around her wrist. "Tell me where she is."
What? Pepper's face drops. "I don't- I don't know what you're talking about," She claims with a mumble.
He tightens his grip on her neck, making her eyes bulge. "Tell me where Y/N is right now, or so help me God, I will cut you into pieces and feed you to my dogs."
Pepper lets out a squeak, fear rushing through her. "Steve, please."
"She was here at some point," He says lowly. "The ring and the blood tell me that much. Where is she now, Pepper?"
"Upstairs," She manages to whisper, her voice raspy. "With Tony. She's alive, I swear."
Steve's eye twitches as a tinge of relief hits him. But he's much too angry to let that calm him down.
Meanwhile, you're on your knees on the bed in the guest room, praying to God that Steve will notice the ring. Tony's gun has been glued to the side of your head since the second you entered the room, a blank look on his face.
With a sniffle, you glance over to him. "You know, you don't seem like you're cut out for this life."
He meets your eyes. "You don't know me."
"I know that you're a cuck," You spit.
"There's nothing wrong with having an open marriage," He defends. "Unless you're too small-minded to accept it."
"I couldn't give a fuck about your marriage," You tell him with a glare. "But I'd bet good money that you haven't fucked nearly as many other people as her. Have you?"
He says nothing, his eyes flickering to the ground.
"Have you slept with anyone else?" You ask curiously.
When he still doesn't respond, you raise a brow.
"I know she was bluffing about her night with Steve, but does Pepper fuck other guys?" You question, and his further silence confirms your theory. "Babe, that ain't an open marriage if only one of you is getting some."
"You don't know us," Tony huffs, pushing the gun against your head. "Now, shut your mouth, unless you want a brain full of lead."
You do as he says, bored of his sob story. Just then, a text notification sounds out from his phone. He looks down at it to see it's from Pepper.
The Wife 💀
Bring her downstairs.
Tony raises a brow. Huh. He doesn't remember hearing Steve's car leave. Oh, well.
You're surprised when he pulls you up to your feet and leads you back out of the room. You don't remember hearing Steve's car leave.
The two of you make your way downstairs, and you wonder just how much more torture Pepper will subject you to before she finally realizes you'd sooner die then give up sensitive information about Steve and his work.
Tony opens the door to the living room and pushes you in - and both of you freeze at the sight you're presented with.
Steve's casually sitting back on the couch and taking a bite out of a green apple.
Pepper is sitting in the chair you were previously tied to, with a thin wire wrapped around her neck and some blood seeping from the wound. She's very clearly dead, making your heart skip a beat.
"Pep!" Tony yells, with his gun still aimed at you. Steve immediately takes out his own gun, furious at the bruises on your face, and shoots Tony dead. He falls to the floor beside you, but you barely even register what happened.
Your eyes are glued to Steve, who stands up and drops the apple to the ground. "Hi, bubble," He greets you gently, blood staining his white shirt.
Rushing over to him, you let him engulf you in a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you deeply. All your emotions are poured into the kiss, from love to pain to relief to anger.
"I knew you'd come for me," You tell him, smiling against his chest. "I knew it."
"I'm sorry, baby, I should never have trusted that bastard," He grumbles, stroking your hair. "Your safety is something I'll never again put in the hands of someone else. You're mine, bubble. Always."
"I'm sorry about the apartment," You cry, clutching onto his shirt. "I don't know why I kept it, I-"
"You have nothing to apologize for you. I'm the one who gave you a reason to use it," He says lowly. "You were right, bub. I was taking you for granted. I got comfortable, and assumed that you'd always be there, no matter what. That was wrong of me."
Lifting up your head, you meet his eyes. "It's okay, Steve. I know you were busy, and-"
"That's no excuse," He cuts you off with a frown, stroking your cheek. "I love you, and I wasn't showing it the way I should have been. I will never treat you that way again, baby bubble. I appreciate you, so much."
"I love you, Steve," You whisper, clinging onto him.
Without wasting another second, he kisses you again, this time picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist.
"Oh, bubble," He groans, placing you on the couch and getting on top of you. "Daddy missed you so fucking bad."
Your hips buck up at his words as you whine, "Please, daddy, need you."
"You have me, baby bubble," He promises, grinding his boner against you. "Always, always, always."
He holds your wrists above your head, teasing you with his hard cock as it rubs against your clothed pussy.
"Please," You cry, throwing your head back. "Need daddy so bad."
"Fuck," He groans, releasing one of your wrists and peeling down your shorts. His hand cups your cunt, making it throb as your entire body tingles. "So wet for me, baby. Daddy missed his pussy so fucking bad."
He doesn't even need to play with your clit for long before you're soaking and aching for him to be inside you. Steve unbuckles his belt and hurriedly takes out his swollen cock, bringing it to your quivering entrance. You lift your hips up, feening for him, desperate for your bodies to perfectly connect.
With a soft thrust, Steve plunges his cock into you. Both of you take in a simultaneous gasp as he fills you up, his hands tightly gripping your hips. Brutishly, he begins fucking you, giving you the pleasure you've sorely missed for so long.
"Oh, baby," He groans, gliding in and out of you. "Feel so good around daddy's cock."
"Missed you so much," You cry out in response, digging your nails into his shoulders.
"Promise me, little bubble," Steve grunts, resting his face in your neck as he fucks you harder. "Promise me you'll never leave me again."
"I promise, Steve," You vow, tugging on his hair. "I'll never leave you. You have me forever."
"You'll always be mine, no matter what," He growls possessively, wrapping one of his hands around your throat. "Nobody is ever taking you from me again. I'm never letting you go."
"Daddy," You squeal when he hits your g-spot, making your toes curl. "There, there, there."
"Yeah? You like when I fuck you deep, don't you?" He teases you, an animalistic hunger in his eyes. "My little bubble loves being fucked deep, doesn't she?"
"I love it, daddy," You sing out, tears gathering in your eyes when his cock brushes against your cervix. "I love you, Steve."
"Oh, baby, Y/N, my good girl," He chants weakly, placing one of his feet on the ground to give himself more balance as he slams into you over and over again. "I love you more than anything, bubble."
Your eyes roll back as you feel the ecstasy build up within your core. When he feels your legs shaking around his waist, he knows you're close.
"That's it, baby," Steve growls, chuckling deeply. "Cum for me, like the good little girl you are. Cum for daddy."
He tightens his grip on your throat and it's enough to pull your orgasm forth, causing utter delight to ripple through your body. Your cunt convulses around his shaft, making it hard for him to hold back any longer before he's shooting his seed deep inside you.
"Oh, fuck," Steve groans, thrusting a few more times as you each fly through your highs, in a chorus of moans and gasps.
Once you've recovered, you blink a few times to see Steve crouching down beside the couch, stroking your hair with a soft smile on his lips.
"You always look so beautiful after your brains have been fucked out," He mumbles, scanning your flushed face.
Slowly, you sit up. Steve takes your hand and gently guides you up to your feet, keeping an arm around your waist to stop your weakened legs from giving out.
"Here," He begins, fiddling with your finger.
When you look down, you see him replacing the ring back where it belongs. The sight of it makes you grin and you pull him in for a tight hug.
"You'll always be my girl," Steve promises, swaying you in his hold. "Anyone who ever tries to hurt you, or take you from me, will be given the same fate as those two."
You glance behind him where you see Tony's body on the ground, and then to the right where Pepper sits lifelessly. Once again, you're the spectator. Steve, as he vowed on the day he realized he loved you all those years ago, will never stop protecting you. Never.
"I love you 'til the end of the earth, and then some," He mumbles, pulling back your head to kiss your forehead. "Always, my little bubble."
STEVE MASTERLIST
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Steve leaned back in his office chair with a satisfied smirk, his feet propped on his desk. Anyone seeing his face would think he’d just made some shrewd, calculated business move on the chessboard that was the New York City mafia world when inside he was as giddy as a motherfucking school boy. He’d decided the woman he’d been seeing for the last couple of weeks would move in with him that afternoon. He ordered Sam to pack up her stuff from her dingy apartment and take care of any financial penalties that might accrue with her landlord and roommates. He was nice like that.
The impact that woman had on him was so unexpected when he saw her dancing with her girlfriends at one of his clubs. She was more than just pretty; she was sexy even in a green sundress similar to the dresses he’d sworn he’d seen the ladies at church wear. She stood out—not because she wore such a modest dress, but because of the way said dress hugged her tits, hips, and the top of her ass; her curves just refused to be hidden away.
She didn’t seem like a regular club-goer, but she sure was having fun with her girls. She was laughing, waving her arms in the air, and swaying her hips. She wasn’t much of a dancer, but he loved watching her just the same. She jumped giggling when he lightly touched her hips from behind. She turned meeting his eyes, and she became quiet, her lips giving a hint of a smile.
It took him a bit longer than it should’ve to stop staring and lower his lips next to her ear to ask her to dance. Now, Steve Rogers does not ask girls to dance. No. He just grabs their hips and dances with them and they are usually all for it. No big deal. This girl was way too classy for that…in her twenty-dollar-Target-looking dress.
It was funny. She tried to appear so cool and confident--even though she gulped when his breath was on her skin when he asked her to dance--and she answered his question with a nonchalant shrug and a cute little smirk. Her breath hitched when he pulled her body close to his. He respected the effort. He was used to people trying to look tough around him. He liked catching her off guard. He liked feeling her shudder under his touch.
He made out with her in the VIP section while her friends ordered whatever they wanted a few feet away. He convinced her to go home with him before he got too riled up and had to have her sit on his dick right there and then. He’d told himself she’d just be a quick lay, but deep down he knew it was bullshit. Instead, he ended up spending the entire weekend in bed with her at his estate.
Steve had talked her into calling in sick that weekend, but he couldn’t convince her to quit her job so he’d be able to see her more. He’d promised to pay her bills for a whole fricking year, but she said she didn’t need a sugar daddy. He made sure to get Little Miss Independent’s number before dropping her off at her place. He didn’t last five fucking minutes before calling her about having dinner with him at one of his restaurants the following night. He had Bucky rearrange his schedule—it must’ve been a pain in the ass and he was sure he pissed off a few people, but Steve had to see her again.
He sent a nice blue, flowy chiffon dress to her apartment ahead of time for her to wear to the restaurant. He didn’t care what she wore, but he didn’t want her to feel out of place. He just knew what pricks rich people could be--even though none would dare openly insult any lady on Steve Rogers’ arm, especially in his own restaurant.
She actually thanked him for the dress because she didn’t have anything to wear to such a fancy place. He was relieved she didn’t feel insulted, and now he knew there were some gifts she’d accept from him. She was stunning and even turned a few heads making Steve both proud and irritated anyone would look at his lady. That’s right—his lady.
He had her talk about herself during dinner; he wanted to know everything about her. (They hadn’t done a lot of talking during their weekend together.) He’d also had Sam do a thorough background check on her, but the file was still in his office unread. It somehow felt wrong to read it just before their date—like it’d be invading her privacy or something. He’d also had Bucky follow her around to gather more information about her daily life and routine…and to make sure no one touched what was his.
When Steve asked her to dance, she reluctantly agreed warning him she wasn’t a good dancer. He knew; he didn’t care. “You looked pretty good dancing at my club last Friday,” he couldn’t help but tease. She actually blushed. He’d seen her naked for an entire weekend, but she was anxious about where to put her feet while she was covered up in some classy, flowy dress that highlighted all her curves? It was adorable.
Steve just wanted to hold her again, so dancing seemed like the logical solution. He didn’t want her to think he just wanted sex from her. He wanted her. He knew he was falling hard for her like some pathetic schmuck, but he just couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck.
He wanted all of her. It was cheesy, but he wanted to keep her deepest secrets, banish her insecurities and fears; he wanted her to tell him her hopes and dreams so he could make them come to life. He wanted everything. He wanted to give her everything.
She’d flinched when he put his hand on her hip. He smiled remembering how rough they’d been with each other that last weekend. She was probably still sore other places too. He had his own reminders--she actually drew blood during the many times her nails dug along his back during their time together.
With what she told him, and the information Sam and Bucky gathered, Steve learned that she lived with roommates she found online and worked as a waitress at one of those 24-hour diners. (He did not like the thought of her working overnight--vulnerable to shady customers). She’d been a foster kid who’d struggled a lot in school. He’d known foster kids growing up in his neighborhood, and Sam, a former counselor, confirmed it was common for foster kids to have their education “disrupted.” The fact that she was putting herself through college in her late twenties impressed Steve. She was tough and resilient, and he was so proud of her.
Steve also learned she volunteered with current foster kids, and she occasionally worked at a homeless soup kitchen. He couldn’t believe how fucking pure she was! She was definitely too good for him. He almost felt guilty for dragging her into his world. Almost. As much as he admired and respected her, he was a selfish bastard and there was no way he was going to let her go. She belonged to him now.
The thought of not coming home to her every night after a long day of making deals, busting skulls, reining in hotheads and bribing politicians then waking up next to her and making love to her every morning and do the whole thing over again solidified his decision. There was no way he was going to deprive himself of her sweet comfort.
He’d have to limit her excursions and have a bodyguard with her at all times—maybe Romanoff or Belova or both--he had to protect his girl. He was happy to let her continue some of her volunteering on top of letting her finish school since both were so important to her. That way she’d have a life outside their home—he was nice like that.
Steve would have to be patient and understanding with her. She’d be in shock from the sudden move to his house and his world. Yes, her movements would be limited because of how dangerous his world was, but she’d also want for nothing—all she’d have to do is snap her pretty little fingers and he’d fetch whatever she wanted like a goddamn golden retriever.
He’d give her her dream wedding even if it took months to plan—if it was up to him, they’d get married at the court house that very day. He was even willing to wait until she finished her degree before getting her pregnant. (She'd be such a good mother!) He was nice like that. She was a smart girl; she’d adjust eventually and he’d be with her every step of the way.
Steve checked the time. She would be leaving work soon and would be at her apartment in the next hour or so. He’d had Bucky reschedule his business dinner that evening so he could meet her at her—now former—apartment. It was only polite to tell her in person that she’d be moving in with him and that she’d be spending the rest of her life with him. He was nice like that.
