summary: what was supposed to be an ordinary day takes a sharp turn when you notice a stranger stalking you. before you know it, you’re held hostage by one of your boyfriends’ most dangerous enemies. with danger rising and time running out, steve and bucky will stop at nothing to bring you back in safe arms.
warnings: kidnapping, hostage situation, reader is in college, violence, blood, injuries, weapons, guns, verbal threats, swearing, emotional distress, panic, fear, protective behavior, possessive behavior, intense anger, mentions of torture, restraint, angst, hurt/comfort, trauma, post-rescue comfort, steve and bucky being terrifying to enemies but gentle to you.
One principle your boyfriends had instilled in you from the very beginning, taught with both quiet urgency and lived example, was this: never doubt your instincts.
Trust them without delay. Respond to them without pride. Ignore them, and you risk everything. Bucky had said it once with the calm steel of experience, and Steve had only looked at you with that soft, solemn expression he wore when speaking of things he had lost. You had taken the lesson to heart.
But what precisely could be wrong now?
The café was warm and familiar, filled with the familiar aroma of ground espresso and buttered pastry. Light streamed through the tall, paned windows, casting long rectangles of morning gold across the polished wooden floors.
Students bustled in and out with the distracted energy of people who lived on caffeine and looming deadlines. A small bell above the entrance rang with each new arrival, its cheery tone doing little to interrupt your concentration. You had come here countless times, and nothing had ever once felt out of place.
Yet today, you could not shake the sensation.
The feeling settled into you gradually, the way cold water seeps through fabric — a slow, creeping unease that you could neither name nor dispel. You looked up from your notebook, the pages filled with notes on postmodernist theory and economic ethics, and allowed your gaze to scan the space with quiet precision.
Your eyes moved from the counter to the door, from the students to the far corners of the room, from the windows to the street beyond.
Nothing. Everything appeared precisely as it should.
Still, your hands had stilled against your tablet, your fingers frozen mid-sentence. That was the second sign. The first was the prickling at the back of your neck, that near-mythical alertness that every woman knows and every soldier respects — the kind that tells you when eyes are fixed upon you. You resisted the urge to turn too quickly, instead allowing your gaze to drift lazily across the room, as though distracted by a passing thought.
And then you saw him.
Seated alone in the far back corner, tucked into the shadows where the sunlight did not reach, was a man who did not belong. Not because of what he was doing — he held a coffee cup like anyone else, sitting in feigned stillness — but because of what he was hiding.
His cap was drawn low over his brow, and oversized sunglasses concealed the rest of his face. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick with muscle, and though he attempted to appear casual, there was a stillness about him that rang false. It was the stillness of someone waiting.
Your blood chilled. Every part of your mind screamed at you to move.
You did not look at him again. You did not allow yourself the indulgence of a second glance. Instead, you began to gather your things with calculated calm, stacking your notebook atop your tablet, slipping them into your satchel with hands that only trembled once.
Your heart was pounding now, but you breathed through it, just as Natasha had taught you, just as Steve had reminded you — keep the panic low and the pace steady.
Still, regret clawed at your chest.
You should have brought Natasha.
She had offered, as she always did. But this morning, in your foolish optimism, you had told her not to bother, that you would be fine on your own, that you would only be studying at the café for a few short hours.
She had narrowed her eyes, unimpressed, but eventually conceded. You had dismissed her concerns with a flippant wave and a kiss on the cheek. Now, the only person you could think to call was the one you had deliberately left behind.
Your fingers shook as you hit her name on your phone.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
The bell over the door chimed as you stepped outside, the cold air biting against your skin. You did not look back. You did not need to. The sound of footsteps followed seconds later, steady and too close behind.
Natasha answered on the fourth ring, her voice calm but laced with a readiness that made your chest loosen just a little. "Hey there, sugar."
You didn’t return the greeting. Your breath hitched, and your voice came out in a whisper. "Nat… I think someone’s following me. I— I don’t know what to do."
There was silence for half a second. Then the sounds of movement erupted in the background — metal clattering, something heavy being dropped, followed by Natasha barking orders to someone, likely Sam.
"Where are you?" she demanded.
But before you could respond, she added, almost to herself, "No, forget it. I have your location. Stay on the phone. Do not stop moving. Do not talk to anyone. Do not go somewhere unfamiliar. Keep walking. I’m coming to you right now."
“I’m really scared, Nat, he’s walking right behind me.”
"Keep the phone to your ear. I want to hear everything. Don’t run, don’t look back again. Just act normal. You hear me?"
"Yeah," you nodded, voice barely audible.
Her voice remained steady, but you could hear the sharp urgency buried just beneath the surface, that tactical edge you had only ever seen emerge when she was in protective mode.
You opened your mouth to speak again, to tell her the street you had just turned down, to confirm the direction you were headed.
But then you felt it.
A hand — rough, broad, and cold — clamped over your mouth. A cloth pressed hard against your lips, soaked in something sharp and sickly sweet.
Your scream caught in your throat as your body instinctively jerked away, but it was too late. The world spun violently, and your limbs grew leaden. You heard Natasha’s voice shouting your name through the phone, which now lay somewhere on the pavement, forgotten.
The man chuckled. A low, pleased sound, the kind that settles in the pit of the stomach like ice.
You watched, barely conscious, as the heel of his boot ground your phone beneath it with an almost casual brutality.
The last thing you saw before the darkness took you completely was his silhouette turning, dragging you backwards, and the soft, indifferent buzz of the city continuing around you as though nothing at all had changed.
***
“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone?” Steve’s voice exploded, shattering the tension that had settled over the room like a storm about to break. The words came out strangled, disbelief and rage wrapped around each syllable like a noose.
Sam flinched. “She was at a coffee shop studying when she called Natasha saying someone’s following her. And then the signal—just cut. She’s not picking up. She’s not—”
Bucky didn’t wait for the rest.
His chair scraped back so violently it slammed into the floor behind him, but he didn’t so much as glance at the damage. His movements were all instinct now—sharp, clean, lethal.
A practiced hand disappeared beneath his tailored jacket, retrieving the sleek black pistol holstered under his ribs. The steel glinted coldly under the chandelier, a flash of silver fury. His face was a mask of ruin. Something feral cracked through his carefully restrained calm—an expression so raw and wrathful even Sam backed up a step.
“I’m gonna fucking kill Vincest.” Bucky snapped, more to himself than to anyone else, and then he was moving.
Steve was right behind him, fury giving chase to fear.
“Where the fuck was her tail?” Steve demanded as they reached the foyer, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles blanched. “Who was watching her?!”
“She didn’t want anyone accompanying her,” Sam shouted after them, breathless. “She said she just needed a minute alone.”
Steve’s face twisted with fury, veins bulging in his neck. His voice rose, sharp and unforgiving, cutting through the room like a blade. “And why the fuck would anyone let her go alone?!”
He slammed his fist into the wall, the sound reverberating like a gunshot. “I don’t care if she’s stepping across the goddamn street to buy a damn coffee. You watch her. You accompany her. You make sure she doesn’t become someone else’s goddamn target. You keep her safe—or so help me, I will tear this entire operation apart piece by piece.”
His gaze burned into every single man standing there, his voice lowering but no less dangerous. “This isn’t just some fuck-up we can sweep under the rug. This is her life. And if any of you think for one second that you can just screw around and let her slip through your fingers—”
He cut himself off with a growl, his breath ragged. Then, with cold steel in his voice, he screamed, “Go! Go fucking search for her. Take orders from Natasha, from me, from whoever the hell. I don’t care how messy it gets, how many streets you tear apart, how many lives you burn through—she must be found.”
The room fell into a tense silence broken only by the sound of men scrambling, shouting confirmations, and the sharp clicks of weapons being readied.
Just then, the door slammed open with force, and Natasha strode in, face pale but determined.
“We found the warehouse,” she announced, voice steady despite the urgency. “She’s being held hostage by Vincent.”
Natasha was there, pacing like a caged panther, voice low and razor-sharp as she barked into her earpiece. Her eyes snapped to them the moment they appeared. No words, no pleasantries. Just a nod that screamed move.
“The last ping was five minutes ago, outside the library,” she said tightly, already handing Bucky a tablet with the paused CCTV footage. “Someone tailed her out. She clocked it. Called me scared out of her fucking mind.”
Steve snatched the tablet out of Bucky’s hands, eyes scanning like a man possessed. “Find him,” he growled. “I don’t care if you have to torch the whole goddamn city to do it.”
“We already are,” Natasha said, her voice like ice over flame. “I have four cars on standby and air support tracking the streets. But if they laid a trap—”
“They fucking won’t touch her.” Bucky’s voice was death itself. Cold, final. “They won’t fucking get the chance.”
Steve grabbed Bucky’s arm, pulling him toward the nearest car. “Come on. We’re not waiting.”
The engine roared to life, the tires screeching against asphalt as Steve pushed the car beyond its limits, his jaw locked in grim determination. Bucky sat beside him, fingers tightening around the gun, every second that passed fanning the rage consuming him.
The city blurred past in streaks of steel and concrete. Their hearts beat to the same rhythm of dread, every red light ignored, every corner taken with reckless precision. The silence between them was not empty but charged, a storm waiting to break.
When Natasha’s voice crackled through the comm, announcing she had traced you to Warehouse 14, neither man hesitated. Steve swerved sharply into the docklands, the car jolting as it tore across the uneven ground.
They did not pause. They did not plan. Bucky leapt out before the car had even fully stopped, his weapon raised, his movements mercilessly efficient. Steve followed, his own gun drawn, his shoulders squared in lethal resolve.
The first guard did not even have time to shout before Bucky’s bullet split the air and sent him crumpling to the ground. Another man tried to run, but Steve’s shot tore through his leg, dropping him instantly. The warehouse echoed with gunfire, shouts, and the thunder of boots as they moved forward, room by room, door by door, leaving no corner unchecked.
They were a tempest of violence and precision, their eyes cold, their fury a sharpened blade. Every obstacle was dismantled with terrifying ease, every man who stood in their way silenced before he could even raise his weapon.
And still, underneath the steel and blood, there was one thought alone, thrumming through their veins like a war drum: find you.
As Steve and Bucky surged through the final corridors of the warehouse, a tumult of thoughts collided in their minds.
They had been here before, in the shadows of power, surrounded by the evidence of their own ruthlessness. They had commanded fear, taken lives without hesitation, and navigated a world where weakness was punished without mercy.
And yet, despite all the blood they had shed, despite every crime they had committed and every advantage they had wielded, they felt something entirely alien now: helplessness at the thought of what state they might find you in.
Bucky’s jaw tightened as he imagined the worst, his hands curling around his gun until the metal creaked under the strength of his grip. Steve’s eyes narrowed, every instinct screaming that every second you were in the hands of another was a second too long, that the slightest delay could undo everything they had built to protect you.
Then, as they burst into the final storage room, their eyes locked on a figure standing directly before you, an audacious smirk twisting his face.
Tall, lean, and cruelly composed, the man’s dark clothing clung to him like a shadow. In his hands was a gun, leveled squarely at Steve’s head. His name was Vincent Karras, a man whose reputation for sadistic cunning rivaled only their own histories.
Before Steve could even blink, before the air could carry the threat of a single word, Bucky’s finger tightened on the trigger.
Two bullets tore into Vincent’s knees, each one precise and deliberate, forcing him to collapse in a howl of pain. He fell hard to the ground, still alive, still aware, a pawn left for the retribution yet to come. Bucky’s eyes did not waver; he had no intention of mercy, only the certainty that the threat to you would be extinguished swiftly.
Steve acted instantly. He shoved Vincent’s screaming, writhing body aside with a strength born of desperation and fury, his heart hammering as he lunged toward you.
He crouched beside your bound form, hands moving expertly to free you from the ropes that bit into your wrists and ankles. The gag fell away from your mouth, and your muffled cries erupted into full, heart-wrenching sobs.
In the next instant, you were in his arms. Steve held you against his chest, pressing you close as though the very act of holding you could undo the horrors you had endured. Your sobs shook his body, each one a dagger to his own heart, and he whispered fervently, words tumbling over themselves in his urgent need to reassure you.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. You’re okay,” Steve murmured, his voice low and steady, every word soaked in tenderness.
His lips brushed gently against your hair, then your forehead—anywhere he could press them to make sure you felt his presence, his unwavering protection. “Fuck. Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you, baby? Please talk to me. Please tell me what happened.”
You hiccuped against his chest, shaking your head violently, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. The sobs wracked your body like a storm barely contained. “I’m not hurt,” you managed, voice trembling between the breaks. “I’m not hurt. I just… I was so scared. I thought you wouldn’t find me. I thought you were never coming.”
Steve’s hands cupped your face, pulling you gently but firmly back so his eyes could meet yours. His own were glassy, heavy with a raw mixture of relief, anger, and a fierce, aching protectiveness.
“Hey, hey, baby. Listen to me, okay? I will always find you. Always. No matter what. I swear to you, I will never fail to find you. If I have to tear this entire world apart, I will.” His voice cracked, thick with emotion. “I am so, so sorry you had to go through this. None of this was supposed to happen. Not to you.”
Bucky knelt down beside you both, gun still poised and ready, his eyes darting across the room, scanning every shadow.
But even as his gaze searched for danger, the tension in his jaw softened when he looked at you. His hands twitched, longing to hold you, to pull you close and never let go. The weight of the terror and helplessness he felt twisted inside him, but he masked it behind that cold, calculated exterior—the shield he wore for you.
Steve tightened his arms around you, pulling you as close as if sheer force could erase the nightmare you’d endured. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, voice fierce and desperate. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let this happen again. I swear it, love. You hear me? Not ever again.”
You nodded, burying your face deep into his chest, your tears still flowing but your body beginning to still, soothed by the warmth and strength that surrounded you. You could feel the electric pulse of fury radiating from both men, a silent promise etched in every tense muscle and guarded breath: no one would ever hurt you again.
Steve carried you gently through the warehouse doors, your trembling form clinging to him as though letting go would mean the end of the world.The black-shaded cars waited silently, engines idling like predatory beasts, their sleek frames reflecting the cold glow of the streetlights.
Just as Steve approached the nearest vehicle, the moment he had intended to set you down, your sobs returned in a fresh, violent wave. Your head pressed into his chest, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as though it were the only lifeline left in existence.
“No, no, no,” you whimpered, your voice cracking. “Please, don’t leave me alone, Steve. I don’t want to… I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Steve froze for a heartbeat, startled by the raw panic in your tone. Then he pulled you even closer, adjusting his hold so your trembling body could feel the full measure of his arms.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing against the crown of your head. “I am right here. I am not leaving you. I just have to go for a minute to deal with something, alright?”
You shook your head frantically, the motion urgent and insistent. “No, Steve. I don’t want to be alone!”
His lips pressed against your chest, just above your heart, in a tender, grounding gesture. “Bucky will be here with you, yeah? I will not let you be alone. He is not going anywhere.”
The mere mention of Bucky’s name brought an almost immediate relief, a shiver of hope that ran through your body. You lifted your gaze and saw him standing a few feet away, his broad frame illuminated by the pale light, eyes locked on you with unwavering concern.
He began to close the distance, and as he wrapped an arm securely around you, your shoulders began to relax, the tension of terror easing into a fragile comfort.
Steve and Bucky exchanged a brief, loaded glance. Steve gave a subtle nod, one that acknowledged the mission still waiting for him inside, and then turned back toward the warehouse, likely to confront Vincent or ensure no other threats remained.
Bucky, meanwhile, pressed a kiss to your hair before pulling you fully into his chest, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing acting like a balm on your frayed nerves. “You okay, sweet girl?” he murmured, his voice husky but gentle.
You nodded, still letting your face rest against him. “Mhm. I just… I just want to go back home.”
He smiled softly, the kind of smile that held both relief and quiet adoration. “Yeah. Let’s go, doll. Steve and Natasha will be following us shortly. You’re safe. I promise you that.”
Bucky led you to the car, holding your hand as you climbed into the passenger seat. He helped you buckle your seatbelt, making sure you were secure before pressing a tender kiss into your temple.
“You’re such a strong girl, you know that?” he said, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek as his gaze lingered on you. “Even when you’re scared, you never stop being strong. And I will always make sure you are safe. I swear to you, nothing will hurt you again while I am here.”
You leaned back against the seat, letting yourself sink into the reassurance of his arms and words.
The ride back is silent, except for the occasional rustle of Bucky’s jacket as he shifts the wheel with white-knuckled precision. His jaw is clenched so tight you’re surprised his teeth haven’t cracked. The streets blur by in a haze of golden light and dust, but all you can see is his reflection in the window—stone-faced, lethal, ruined.
When you get home, he doesn’t say anything. He just lifts you gently from the car like you weigh nothing, carrying you through the front door and past the wide marble halls of the estate.
In the bathroom, he sits you on the counter. He kneels to untie your shoes and slips them off with reverent hands, as if even your shoelaces had been bruised by the day. He’s quiet. Too quiet.
Then, the water starts. Warm. Steaming. He helps you undress, moving slowly like you might shatter if he rushes, and washes away the dirt, the blood, the dust of the place you were kept. He doesn’t speak—not when he rinses your hair, not when he runs a cloth over your back. But his hands shake. Like he’s barely holding it together.
When you’re finally dry and warm again, wrapped in one of his shirts, you follow him to the bedroom. He sets you down on the edge of the bed and disappears for a second, returning with a small medical kit.
“Hold still, doll,” he murmurs as he kneels in front of you.
Your wrists are red and irritated. Rope burns in angry circles. He takes his time cleaning them, brushing ointment over the raw skin with careful fingers. You wince once, and he pauses immediately, looking up.
“Sorry,” he breathes, voice breaking just a little. “I’ll be gentle.”
You nod, throat tight.
He finishes bandaging the last wrist and kisses it.
Then comes the conversation you’ve been dreading.
“From now on,” Bucky began slowly, his voice soft but resolute, “you don’t leave the house without Natasha. Not for a second. Not even to step outside the door alone.”
You blink, caught off guard by the suddenness of his words. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said again, his tone firmer this time, though still gentle. “You don’t go anywhere unless Nat is with you. I mean it.”
A tight knot formed in your stomach, twisting with frustration. “Bucky, that’s insane. I’m not a child.”
He stayed kneeling before you, looking up with those steady eyes that always seemed to see right through you. “You’re not a child, no. But you’re ours. And after what happened…” He swallowed hard, the weight of those words hanging heavily between you. “We can’t afford to take that risk again. Not ever.”
You let out a sharp breath, the frustration bubbling up from deep inside your chest. “Natasha has better things to do than babysit me. She’s not just my bodyguard. She’s your partner—your right hand in this whole business, this mafia world you live in. She probably wants to be out there, running things, making moves. Not stuck following me to classes or running errands or… whatever boring stuff fills my days.”
Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Boring?”
You nodded, biting your lip. “I know her. She’s the kind of woman who thrives on action. On plans. On missions. I don’t want her to feel trapped just because she’s with me.”
He reached out then, his rough hands enveloping yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “Doll, trust me when I say Natasha wouldn’t get bored with you. Not for a second.”
You looked away, embarrassed by how vulnerable you felt.
“Besides,” he continued, his voice dropping to a softer, almost reverent tone, “you didn’t see what she was like when you went missing. She was just as frantic, just as desperate as Steve and me. Maybe even worse.”
His thumbs brushed lightly over your knuckles. “She sees you as her little sister.”
A sting burned at the corners of your eyes, and you blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
At that moment, the door creaked open. Steve stepped inside quietly.
He looked clean now, the dark clothes he wore fresh and unblemished—not like the bloodstained ones from before. You realized with a cold knot in your stomach that those had belonged to someone else.
Without a word, he walked over to you, cupped your face gently, and pressed a kiss to your temple. Your eyes fluttered closed at the simple touch.
Then he settled beside you on the bed. For a long moment, he said nothing, only resting a steady hand on your thigh.
“You scared the hell out of us,” he says finally. His voice is rough. Almost hoarse. “I thought I was going to kill everyone in that building.”
You open your mouth, but he’s already shaking his head.
“Don’t apologize,” he whispers. “Just... promise me you’ll be more careful.”
“I didn’t choose this,” you say quietly. “I didn’t know he’d grab me—”
“I know, baby girl.” His hand tightens on your leg. “It’s not your fault. None of it is. But it’s why we need to protect you. Even if you hate it.”
You turn then, shifting on the bed so you’re facing Steve fully. Your hands come up to cradle his face, thumbs brushing over the stubble lining his jaw. His eyes—those stormy blues still heavy with worry—soften just a fraction under your touch.
“I know you won’t let me be alone again,” you murmur, voice small but steady. “I know that. But don’t you think… maybe it’s a little too much, having Natasha follow me everywhere?”
Your sentence cuts off when Steve exhales sharply, a sigh heavy enough to sag his shoulders. His big hand comes up to cover one of yours where it rests against his cheek, holding it there like it’s his anchor.
“Sweetheart,” he says softly, voice low and rough around the edges. “I don’t care if it sounds like too much. You have to understand… when we didn’t know where you were, when Sam came in and told us you were gone—I swear, I couldn’t breathe. I thought I’d already lost you. And I can’t—” His voice catches, and he swallows hard, shaking his head as if he can banish the thought.
“I can’t ever feel that again. So if that means Natasha shadows you every second of the day, then that’s what’s happening. I need you safe. I need you here.”
Your chest tightens at the rawness in his tone. He presses his forehead to yours, his breath shaky as if he’s still pulling himself back from the edge.
“I can’t lose you,” Steve whispers, softer now, almost like a prayer. “So just… let me take care of you. Please.”
Before you can respond, Bucky’s voice rumbles beside you, quiet but firm.
“He’s right, doll.” You glance over at him, and the sight of him—still crouched near, still watching you like you’re the only thing that matters—makes your throat ache.
You bite your lip, looking down, but Bucky tips your chin up gently with his finger, forcing you to meet his eyes. They’re bright with conviction, but also unbearably soft.
“We’re not asking for much. Just… let us keep you safe. Let us breathe knowing that Natasha’s there when we can’t be.” His thumb strokes over your jaw. “That woman would tear down the whole world if it meant protecting you.”
Steve hums in agreement, his hand still cupping the side of your face. “Natasha wants to do this. Don’t take that choice away from her.”
Your eyes flick between the two men—the desperation in Steve’s, the fierce devotion in Bucky’s—and the resistance you’d been holding onto starts to crumble.
“I just…” you whisper, voice cracking. “I don’t want to be a problem. I don’t want to drag either of you.”
Bucky shifts then, slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his solid warmth while Steve still holds your hand. Sandwiched between them, you feel cocooned, your protest melting beneath the weight of their care.
“Love,” Bucky says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You could never be a problem. You’re the best damn thing that’s happened to any of us.”
Steve presses a kiss to your temple again, lingering. “All we’re asking is that you let us do our job—keeping you safe. That’s it. You don’t have to carry the weight of whether it’s too much or not. You just have to be here with us.”
For a long moment, you sit in silence, wrapped up in the warmth of their words and their bodies pressed close on either side. Slowly, the tightness in your chest eases, and the tears you’d been fighting finally spill, but this time they’re softer—relief instead of fear.
Steve wipes them away with his thumb before they can trail down your cheeks. “There she is,” he murmurs, smiling faintly. “There’s our girl.”
You let out a shaky laugh, muffled as you bury your face against Steve’s chest, Bucky’s arm tightening around your back.
And for the first time since it all happened, you believe them; you really are back in safe arms.
Could we see Mafia!Stucky x subspace!reader. I was thinking maybe that the reader falls into subspace for literally no reason or it just happens and it takes a long time for her to come out of it. Or maybe mafia!stucky is so stress and she falls into subspace and because mafia!stuck is so stressed they don't see it until she shows up to work (potentially their in a meeting and she interrupts)
⁀➷ The Drop // Mafia!Stucky x F!Reader
Summary: When a dangerous mafia operation threatens everything, you find yourself emotionally unravelling in ways you can’t control. Steve and Bucky—your ruthless protectors and tender lovers—must learn to see the signs before it’s too late.
Requested by: Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy <3
Your fingers slip between the sheets on either side of your still-waking-up body. Cool material greets your fingers—empty spaces.
Searching for the warmth that should be there, the solid weight of Steve, the early stirrings of Bucky, but they are both gone. Not just out of reach. Gone.
You blink slowly into the morning light pouring through the window, the room still firm and heavy with sleep. Dust floats lazily in the golden rays, and somewhere downstairs, the floor creaks faintly. But no voices or footsteps.
Just the soft shift of the sheets as you sit up.
Dodger lifts his head at the foot of the bed, ears twitching before his heavy tail gives two slow thumps against the mattress. His sleepy eyes track your movement as you push the comforter off your legs and swing your feet over the edge.
“Morning, handsome boy,” you whisper, voice barely more than a breath so early in the morning.
You scratch gently behind his ears, fingers stroking the thick fur at his neck. He sighs, content, and rests his heavy chin back down on his paws.
You pad down the hall barefoot, skin pricking at the subtle chill in the air. The house was obscenely quiet, too quiet. You’re used to hearing at least one of them. Steve hums under his breath as he trims his beard. Bucky is talking to Dodger in that low, affectionate tone that only comes out before 9 a.m. Jazz from the kitchen speaker. The soft clink of dishes.
But today, it’s just silence. You find Sam, your ever-faithful friend and bodyguard, in the kitchen, leaning against the counter in joggers and a fitted black shirt, cradling a chipped mug in his hand, the one he claimed was his mug and no one else's. The smell of burnt coffee reaches you before you say a word.
His eyes lift the moment you appear, having been tracking your soft steps on the landing above. He gives you a warm smile, but it's not quite right.
“Hey, Boss Lasy,” he says, gently. “You sleep okay?”
You nod, your hand coming up automatically to fidget with your opposite thumb. You pick lightly at the skin there, not enough to break it, just enough to ground yourself.
“Where are they?” you ask, voice small.
“Meeting came up. Steve got a call just after five. East docks. They left about an hour ago.”
You nod again, slowly this time. Something in your chest tightens, a familiar little ache you’ve come to recognise: the not knowing. The not being told. You try not to let it show.
“Did they eat?” you ask, stepping around him towards the fridge.
“I don’t think so,” Sam says, watching you. “Steve was glued to his phone. Bucky looked like he was ready to murder someone. Same old, really.”
You don’t respond to your friend. You’re already pulling out eggs, butter, cream, and bacon. Your hands move automatically, stirring, whisking, and heating the skillet. It feels better to be doing something. Anything but letting yourself spiral.
Dodger lies down near your feet in silent support. Sam lingers for a while, sipping his coffee, but eventually excuses himself. “I’ll be outside if you need me, and we’ve got eyes on the house, don’t worry.”
He pauses before leaving, “They’ll be back soon, sweetheart.”
You smile, but it’s halfhearted. You know Sam means well, but still, it feels like a lie.
The rest of the day drags as you wander from room to room, picking things up, putting them back down and folding laundry that was already folded. Checking your phone, though no one’s texted. The silence settles over you like a second skin, itchy and cold and hard to shake.
You try to keep busy. You answered a few messages from Natasha. She says she’s with Steve and Bucky and that everything is “fine”. But she never says when they’ll be home.
You end up sitting on the couch with Dodger’s big head in your lap, your thumb rubbing small circles into his fur as you fidget with the other hand. Sometimes it’s the hem of your sleeve, sometimes the collar of Steve’s old hoodie that you’d thrown on this morning. Your fingers won’t stay still.
By the time the front door finally creeps open, it’s nearly dark. You’re curled in the same spot, legs tucked under yourself, a cold cup of tea forgotten on the coffee table. The second you hear Bucky’s voice, low and tense, your head lifts.
He doesn’t come into the living room. Neither does Steve.
They’re talking in sharp murmurs, too quiet for you to hear. Natasha’s voice joins in, crisp and flat, before fading away. Then the door closes again. Someone must’ve left. You stay on the couch, just simply waiting.
Eventually, Steve appears in the doorway. His hair is a mess, his tie loosened, and his sleeves rolled up. His eyes land on you, and he softens a little.
“Hey, baby,” he says, stepping into the room.
You sit up straighter. “Hi.”
He walks over and kisses the top of your head, gently and briefly. Not the usual kind that lingers. “Sorry, it got late. Did you eat?”
“I made breakfast,” you say.
He blinks, caught off guard. “Shit. I didn’t even check my phone.” His palm rests on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
You shake your head. “It’s okay.” But it’s not. You don’t say anything else. Just sit there while he disappears again. Bucky comes in a little while later. He doesn’t even sit down, just crouches in front of you, brushes your hair back from your face.
“You good, Doll?” he asks, eyes flicking between yours.
You nod. “Mhm.”
“You sure?”
“Just tired,” you respond quietly.
He kisses your temple, then pulls back. “Gotta make some calls. I’ll be back in a bit.” You try not to show the sting when he walks away.
That night, you lie between them in bed, staring at the ceiling. Steve is on his back, already half-asleep. Bucky’s curled toward the edge, his back to you. Neither of them notices how still you are. How your hand keeps twitching at your side, fingers rubbing your thumb raw.
Dodger is in his bed on the floor, softly snoring. You turn onto your side and stare at the back of Steve’s shoulder.
You want to say something, anything, but the words feel too big, too heavy, too much. So instead, you stay silent. And in the dark, your hand keeps moving.
Fidget, fidget, fidget. If you keep touching something, someone might remember to touch you back.
The next day, you wake up earlier than the day before, like your mind couldn’t quiet settle into a long, blissful sleep.
You’re still in the same position you fell asleep in, curled on your side, blanket tucked around your legs, face pressed to the pillow Steve had vacated hours before. The space beside you is empty again, and so is the air.
Dodger lifts his head when you swing your legs out of bed. You give him a soft smile and scratch behind his ear. He yawns and lumbers after you as you shuffle down the hallway, up the stairs and into the kitchen.
You make breakfast again. It keeps your hands busy, gives you something to focus on when your thoughts start to swirl. Eggs, toast, and fruit this time. You don't know what they're in the mood for, or if they’ll even be here to eat it.
They’re not.
By the time the food is done, the kitchen is still empty. You set a plate aside for Sam, who shows up fifteen minutes later, gun on his hip and eyes already scanning the house like he’s looking for exits. His smile when he sees you is genuine this time, but he is distracted.
“They’re at the office,” he says, grabbing toast. “Shit’s heating up.”
You tilt your head. “Heating up how?”
He freezes for a second, caught off guard. “They didn’t tell you?”
You shake your head slowly, ignoring the heaviness settling in your chest. Sam exhales through his nose, tension flaring behind his eyes. “It’s not my place, but there’s a sit-down. Some out-of-town people are coming in. They're real volatile types. Steve thinks one of them’s been talking to the feds.”
Your blood runs cold. “Like, undercover?” you whisper.
“Not just that. It’s bigger. Federal surveillance, threats. If this goes sideways, everyone in that meeting is a target.”
You grip the edge of the counter. “They shouldn’t be going,” you say softly, scared that if you used any real emotion, the panic would truly set in.
Sam shrugs. “They're the ones running it. Can’t back out now.”
You nod once, even though your stomach has turned to stone. Sam doesn’t say anything else. Just squeezes your shoulder, eats his toast, and leaves you alone again in the too-quiet kitchen.
The day drags. Again. You try to distract yourself with a mundane task. Folding towels twice just to steady your hands. You feed Dodger and take him into the garden, sitting with him under the tree whilst he sniffs around the flowerbeds.
You check your phone at least a dozen times. Nothing.
No messages from Steve. No missed calls from Bucky. Not even a group chat update. Natasha hasn’t reached out either. Your hands start fidgeting again, fingers twitching the sleeve of your shirt until the threads unravel. You try not to spiral. You really do.
But the image of them in that meeting won't leave your mind. What if someone pulls a gun? What if the feds sort the place? What if Steve tries to talk to someone down and it backfires? What if Bucky put himself between Steve and a bullet like he always does?
What if they both-
You don’t finish the thought.
You go up to their room instead, curl up on the bed, and tug Steve’s hoodie over your head. It’s too big. It seems like cedar and cologne and him. You bury your face in the sleeve, trying to anchor yourself to it.
The ticking of the clock on the wall feels too loud. Your breath feels too shallow.
You don’t realise how much time passes. Maybe hours. Maybe more.
You zone out completely, drifting and floating. Not quiet here, not quite gone.
Your limbs feel soft. The world sounds far away. You don’t even hear Dodger hop onto the bed next to you, his big body curling around your legs. Everything starts to feel quieter. And in that quiet, a familiar numbness creeps in.
That night, Seve comes home first.
You hear the front door creak open, the subtle thud of his boots on the floor. You’d moved at some point to the couch, curled up in your hoodie, hands tucked into the sleeves, your gaze hazy and unfocused on the blank TV screen.
He walks past the living room without looking in. He doesn’t hear you breathing softly, like he usually would pick up on.
You don't say anything, don't trust your voice to sound normal right now. You're not even sure you could make it loud enough.
Bucky follows behind him, jacket half unzipped, knuckles bruised. His eyes sweep the hallway but never land on you. They're muttering something to Natasha, she's walking beside them, her voice clipped. She mentions something about “too many eyes” and “changing the location for next week.”
You press your hands tighter into your sleeves. They're still planning another meeting. Another risk, more dangerous. You don't even ask them how it went, already knowing the answer.
That night, they’re with you in bed, but it feels like they're a thousand miles away. You like to be there in Selene, curled up small in the middle of the bed, waiting for them to reach out, to ask how you’re feeling, to notice how glazed your eyes have gone or how quiet your voice has become.
But they’re tired, stressed and focused on tomorrow. Steve's eyes are closed within minutes, his breathing slow and deep. Bucky's phone is still in his hand when he falls asleep, screen glowing softly in the dark.
You don't cry, you don't speak. You just lie still, your hands curled into the sleeves of Steve’s hoodie, your knees drawn tight to your chest.
And quietly, slowly, gently… You slip.
Your thoughts grow fuzzier, your lips go heavier. You left the silence to cover you like a weighted blanket, warm and distant, floating just about on the edge of real life.
You don’t want to be a problem. You don't want to interrupt, so you drift.
And no one notices.
You wake up already floating.
You don’t remember falling asleep. You’re still wearing Steve’s hoodie. You think you brushed your teeth. You think you ate yesterday, or maybe the day before.
Everything is foggy. But it's warm inside the fog. Soft, quiet and safe. Your fingers twitch inside your sleeves. You rub your thumb against your knuckles, the way you always do when you're trying to hold onto something, but there’s nothing to hold onto now. Nothing but the haze, the softness, the weightless way the world feels around you.
You don’t panic. There’s no room for panic here.
You’re too deep for that.
No one had decided to tell you the meeting is cancelled. The out-of-town guests got caught on surveillance. That Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and the trio top circle spent the morning locked in strategy, rescheduling everything.
No one remembers to tell you.
And so, hours later, you dress quietly, buttoning up the soft, cream-coloured blouse Steve likes. Pull on the tailored pants Bucky picked out for you last month. Slip your shoes on slowly, fingers trembling just a little as you tie the laces. You forgot to eat. You forgot to drink. You barely remember to bring your phone.
Dodger whines softly as you pick up your keys. He noses at your hand, sensing something’s wrong. You press your face to his head, breathing in the smell of warm fur and comfort. “Be good,” you whisper, “I’ll be back soon.”
When you arrive at the warehouse, you’re immediately out of place. Sam’s not outside. There are too many black cars in the lot and too many men and women with guns at the door. Familiar faces. All part of the family. But they look at you funny, not because you’re not welcome, but because you don’t usually show up unannounced without Sam at your side.
You shouldn’t be here. But you don’t realise that. Not fully. You’re already too far under.
You step inside, softly voiced and slow-moving, your head down, your arms tucked close to your body. Your fingers fidget at the hem of your sleeves. Your eyes scan the space, searching, quietly, for the two people who make the world make sense.
And then you see them.
They're deep in conversation at the far end of the room, Natasha by Steve's side, Bucky pacing a slow line behind them, blanked by two other guards. Everyones ared. Everyoes sharp. The energy in the room is tense, poised to erupt at any moment.
You cross the room in silence, weaving between bodies, ignoring the stares, the confusion. Until you're standing right there in front of them. You don't say anything. You just exist in front of them, quiet, small, wide-eyed.
And that's when Steve looks up. He freezes.
Bucky turns, and his expression shutters into something unreadable, then something terrified.
“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice is sharp with confusion, his body already moving toward you. “What are you–? You should be–”
And then he sees it. He really sees it.
Your slack shoulders. The softness in your face. The barely there blink of your lashes. The way your hands are twitching rhythmically, sleeves pulled over your fingers, your voice caught somewhere in your throat.
Subspace. Your safe space.
Bucky curses under his breath. “Fuck. Oh, baby…”
Natasha steps aside instantly, her eyes narrowing, calculating, protective.
But you barely register any of it.
You sway gently on your feet, gaze fixed somewhere near Steve’s chest. Your body is humming with foggy warmth. You were looking for them. You found them. So everything should be okay now.
Right?
Steve cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up. “Look at me. Baby girl, come here. Look at me.”
Your eyes meet his, but it's like you're underwater. Slow. Blurry. Safe.
“I-I wore your hoodie yesterday,” you mumble. “I was cold.”
His face crumbles. Bucky is at your side a second later, his hand sliding around your back like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “She’s gone,” he says under his breath. “Fuck, Steve, she’s gone.”
“No one told her,” Natasha says quietly, almost to herself. “She thought the meeting was still happening.”
Steve doesn’t answer. His jaw is locked tight, guilt pouring off of him like a tidal wave.
“She didn’t want to be alone,” Bucky says softly, tucking you under his arm. “Didn’t want to interrupt. Just want to be with us, Steve.”
And suddenly it’s all so obvious. The fidgeting. The quiet voice. The distant eyes. The hours you spent alone. The subtle, slo spiral. The dissociation that bloomed in your chest like a safety blanket when no one saw you unravelling.
You didn’t fall into subspace because someone put you there. You feel that it was the only safe space left to go.
Steve lets out a shaky breath and gathers you into his arms.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers into your temple. “I’ve got you now.”
You sink into him like it’s all you’ve ever known, like the only thing real is the warmth of his chest, the strong arms around you, the familiar smell of safety. You didn’t see the way the room empties.
You don't hear Natasha barking orders or Bucky snapping at the others to back the fuck off. You don't feel the movement until you’re lifted into someone’s arms – Steve or Bucky, you're not sure – and carried out of the warehouse like you’re something precious and breakable and theirs.
Back at the house, they don’t leave your side.
Steve runs you a bath, Bucky get you water and a protein shake. They keep their voices low, their touches soft. They brush your hair back and rub lotion into your hands. They ask, again and again, if you’re okay, and they don't care that you can’t answer yet.
They don't ask how it happened because now they know. And when you finally, finally drift to sleep between them, warm and safe and wrapped in their arms, Bucky leans down and presses his lips to your temple.
“We weren’t looking, but we’re never letting you fall like that again.”
You wake up with the weight of the world on your chest. Not a heavyweight, just real again.
The soft numbness is gone, replaced with something raw, like your skin doesn’t quite fit right. Like your brain is trying to stitch itself back together, but your heart hasn’t caught up.
You're still in bed, wrapped tightly between their bodies. Steve on your left, Bucky on your right, Dodger curled at your feet like a loyal sentinel.
Your eyes flutter open. The light in the room is soft. Diffused. Someone must have closed the curtains.
You blink slowly. You remember the warehouse, the way they looked at you, the way they realised too late. You remember Steve's arms. Buckys voice. Natashas silence.
And then everything faded into a haze. A small breath escapes you, shaky and unsure.
Immediately, Steve stirs.
“Sweetheart?”
His voice is rough from sleep, or maybe from everything else. He’s already rising on one elbow, hand coming to brush your cheek. “You here with me?”
You nod. Barely. He kisses your forehead.
“Good girl,” he says thankfully. “You came back.”
Buckys awake too. You feel his hand slide over your stomach, grounding and warm. “Hey, doll, how are you feeling?”
You try to answer. But your throat catches, the word sticks. Steve notices, he strokes your back gently, soothing. “You don’t have to speak, honey. Just stay close.”
And you do. You stay curled between them, blinking back the sting behind your eyes, heart heavy in your chest. Your hands twitch. Your breathing stutters. That hollow, distant space you’d floated in is gone, but what’s left behind is just as terrifying.
You broke a little. And now you have to feel it.
The next twenty-four hours pass in soft murmurs and gentle hands. Steve makes you food. Bucky helps you eat. You don't talk much. They don't push.
They do everything right, guiding you through the emotional fallout of the subspace with a hengtleness that leaves you aching. They ask if you're cold. They remind you to drink. They offer you soft praise when you take a sip or whisper a word. You're not punished for disappearing. You’re cared for, protected, and held.
But even through the care, the guilt lingers behind their eyes. It’s in the way Steve watches you when you’re not looking, in how Bucky strokes your wrist over and over like he's trying to memorise your pulse.
That night, when you’ve finally drifted into a light sleep in Lucky’s lap, Steve's voice cuts the silence.
“We have to stop.”
Bucky looks up, reaching across and seeking comfort from his boyfriend by squeezing his hand. “Stop what?
“This. All of it. The meetings. The deals. The bullshit.”
Bucky's jaw flexes. “We can’t just walk away, Steve. You know that.”
“I'm not saying forever. But right now? We need to pause.”
His voice shakes slightly. “I didn’t even see her, buck. She was slipping right in front of me, and I didn’t even look.”
Bucky is quiet for a long time. Then he nods. “Okay.” Steve exhales. Bucky looks down at you again, asleep in his lap, your cheek smushed against his thigh, hand curled into the hem of his shirt. “Let's get her out of here.”
The next morning, they tell you the plan. You’re sitting at the kitchen island, wrapping Buckys hoodie, sipping tea that Steve made with honey and lemon. You're still quiet and slow, but your eyes look clearer today.
We’re going away,” Steve says gently. “Just us.”
You blink up at him. Lucky leans forward, leans on the counter, eyes soft. “Somewhere quiet. No meetings. No work. No guns. Just us three.”
You hesitate, a frown pulling at your lips. “But… the family–”
“Is being handled,” Steve says firmly. “Nat and Sam are staying behind. They're more than capable. We need this. You need this.”
You chew your lip, then nod. A small smile curves Steve’s lips. He reaches over and strokes your cheek. “You okay with that, baby girl?”
Your voice is still faint, a little unsure, but it's there. “Yeah, I want to go.”
Bucky's grin is immediate. He kisses your forehead and tugs you into his side. “Then it's settled.”
By nightfall, you’re packed. Steve rented a secluded cabin five hours away, deep in the woods, with a lake and no neighbours for miles. Natasha came by briefly to check in, hugging you and kissing you on the cheek before glaring at both men and muttering, “Don't fuck this up.”
You leave the city just before sunrise.
Dodger sits in the backseat with his head on your shoulder, and you rest your hand on his neck the whole drive, surrounded by silence, trees, and the promise of healing. You don't know how long it’ll take to feel normal again. But this? This is a start.
DAY ONE:
You don’t wake up to the sound of arguing, tense voices on the phone or the sound of gunfire.
You wake up to birdsong and the quiet sizzle of bacon. The air smells like fresh pine and coffee. The bed is warm, one body behind you, one in front, both wrapped around you like armour. Bucky mumbles something against your shoulder before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. Steve’s already up, cooking. You can hear him humming softly under his breath,
You don’t move. You don't have to.
They don’t let you lift a finger. Later in the day, Bucky builds a fire outside and brings out thick blankets. Steve sets up a tray of fruit and tea and reads aloud from a dusty paperback he found on a shelf.
Dodger lies scrawled across your legs, soaking up the heat. At some point, you start laughing at something, even though you're not even sure what. But it's the first time in days, and Steve drops the book in his lap just to stare at you, eyes glassy. Bucky leans in and compliments, “Miss that sound so fucking much, Doll.”
DAY TWO:
You fall asleep on the porch wrapped in Bucky’s plaid jacket. Steve carries you inside without waking you. When you stir a few hours later, the cabin is filled with the scent of candles.
Bucky is at the table, polishing his knife—Steve’s in the kitchen, baking banana bread from scratch. You blink blearily from the couch and mumble something incoherent.
Two heads snap up immediately. “Doll? You okay?”
You nod, stretching like a cat. “Smells good!”
Bucky’s grin is wide and genuine. Steve crosses the room and picks you up without a word, sitting down with you in his lap as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You melt against him. Neither of you says anything after that.
DAY THREE:
It rains hard as Steve helps you into one of his thick wool sweaters and builds the biggest fire yet. You all curl up on the rug, Dodger included, watching the rain streak down the big glass windows. Bucky massages your feet in his lap whilst Steve strokes gently over your shoulders and collarbones.
“You were right, we needed this,” you say, half asleep.
Steve leans in and kisses your temple, “I hated seeing you like that. I’m sorry we weren’t there for you.”
Hours pass by, and your boys help you into bed. Steve spoons you from behind, his heavy arm around your waist as Bucky sleeps, facing you, his forehead resting against yours.
You're not yet relatively fixed, but at least you’re in their arms.
DAY FOUR:
The fire crackles softly across the room. You’re stretched out between them on the bed, skin warm beneath the thick duvet, the comfort of the past few days still wrapped around you like a second layer.
But tonight, something in you is shifting.
Your body is aching, not just for touch, but for them to put their hands on you like you belong to them, because you do.
You turn to Steve first, and his hand is already resting lightly on your thigh, thumb tracing slow circles. “Steve?” Your voice is timid as you speak.
He hums, gentle and attentive. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I want you.” His breath catches, his eyes flicking to you. “I want both of you.”
That gets Bucky’s attention. His hand freezes where it was lazily stroking along your arm. He lifts his head to meet your eyes.
“I'm sure,” you cut in, eyes fierce now. “I need to feel you. Really feel you.”
Steve watches you for a long moment. Then something shifts behind his eyes, some long-restrained part of him finally being granted permission.
“Okay, baby girl. However, you need to discuss with us how far to go. You say red, we stop, understand?”
You nod eagerly. “I don’t want gentle,” you say, louder now. “I want you. Both of you. The way I like it.”
Bucky lets out a soft, strained laugh. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill us.”
The switch is slow but unmistakable. Steve’s hand curls around your jaw and tips your head up, his blue eyes darkening.
“Then get on your knees, sweetheart.”
You obey instantly, crawling to the centre of the bed between them. Bucky’s already shrugging off his shirt, muscles flexing as he watches you with heat in his gaze. Steve’s behind you in an instant, kneeling close, one massive hand trailing up your back to grip your neck lightly.
“You want to be our good girl again?” he breathes against your ear.
You nod eagerly. “Yes, sir.”
That, sir, makes something snap in both of them.
“Fucking knew you needed this,” Bucky growls, coming up in front of you now, his cock already heavy and leaking from where he’s pulled it free. “You need us to remind you who you belong to?”
“Yes, sir,” you whisper, eyes wide and eager.
Steve’s fingers tighten slightly on your throat, just enough to make your breath catch. “Good girl.”
Your reward is immediate.
Steve's hand tangles in your hair, pulling you back against his chest whilst Bucky cups your jaw and feeds the thick head of his cock past your lips.
He’s big, they both are, and your throat stretches around him, drool already leaking down your chin as Steve praises you quietly in your ear.
“That’s it, open up, baby girl. Let him in. Our perfect little thing.”
Bucky doesn’t thrust. Not yet. He lets you sink on him, inch by inch, both of his hands gripping your cheeks like he needs to feel you struggle to take it all when you gag just slightly, Bucky groans.
“Fuck, you look so pretty like this. All messy for us.”
Steve tightens his grip on your neck, thumb pressing lightly under your chin. You moan around Bbucky’s cock, and both men twitch with hunger. Steve pulls you back suddenly, popping Bucky from your mouth with a gasp.
“Need her,” he says possessively.
They flip you effortlessly.
Steve pulls your hips up and spreads you wide whilst Bucky lies in front of you, stroking your jaw, kissing your throat.
Steve pushes in first, a thick, slow and deliberate stretch that steals your breath.
You try out, nails clawing at the sheets.
“God–Too big–”
“Shh,” Steve soothes, bending over your back to press a kiss between your shoulder blades. “You can take it. You’re made for us.”
You whimper, squeezing around him as he starts to move, dragging his cock in and out of your soaked heat with controlled power. Bucky grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers.
“You’re doing so well, Doll,” he praises. “Taking him so fucking well.”
Your eyes flutter; your breath comes in shallow gasps.
“Use your words,” Steve growls behind you, slamming in harder. “You want more?”
“Yes, sir, please! I need both of you!”
“You will,” Bbucky growls, reaching down to stroke your clit with two fingers as Steve pounds into you. “Gonna fil you up. Gonna keep you so full you’ll feel us for days.”
Eventually, they trade. Steve pulls out slowly, and Bucky immediately takes his place, sliding in deep and fast with no resistance.
You scream, body arching as Bucky grips your hips and begins to fuck you. Hard.
“Oh my god!”
“That is, sweetheart,” Bucky pants, one hand coming around to press gently on your throat, controlling your gasp, making your inner walls clench tighter. “Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you?”
You nod, head spinning, pleasure bordering on pain.
Steve kneels in front of you, rubbing his cock against your lips. “Open.”
You do, and he pushes in, and suddenly you’re full in every sense, overwhelmed and used and adored.
You sob around him, tears slipping down your cheeks. They don't let up; you don't want them to.
Steve grips onto the back of your head as he thrusts slowly into your mouth. Bucky's pace is punishing, relentless. The stretch, the heat, the pressure on your throat, everything burns perfectly.
And through it all, they continue to praise you.
“Such a good girl.”
“Look at you. So perfect like this.”
“Taking us like you were made for it.”
When your orgasm hits, it crashes like a wave, full-body, uncontrollable, your thighs shaking, vision blurring.
They don't stop. They own you.
You barely register when they cum. First, Steve, groaning and spilling down your throat, followed by Bucky, slamming deep and filling you with his warm seed. Eventually, you collapse between them, trembling from head to toe.
Steve and Bucky take their time cleaning you up with gentle hands. Finally, Steve carries you to the bath and settles you in the warm water. Afterwards, Bucky wraps you in a towel, rubbing lotion into your sore thighs.
In bed, you're tucked between them again, skin still flushed, and legs weak.
“You okay?” Steve asks, voice barely audible but with a subtle gruffness.
You smile sleepily, eyes fluttering shut.
“Never better.”
Bucky kisses your forehead, arms tightening around your waist. “Still outs?”
Summary: Your lovely husbands drag you to a black tie charity event they're hosting. One of the guests decides to get a little handsy with you and neither of your partners is pleased about it.
Warnings: mafia themes, a little violence, cursing, Steve is one scary dominant mofo (and I'm here for it), noncon touching (stranger). SMUT, threesome (MMF), unproteced sex (p in v), anal, oral (F and M receiving), use of toys, praise kink, sir kink, dom/sub roles, orgasm denial/edging
You smoothed your hands down the sides of your emerald green gown as you eyed yourself in the full length mirror. It had been a while since you'd dressed so extravagantly and you'd forgotten how damn good you could look.
The dress was floor length, with a high slit up the thigh, revealing just enough skin to be scandalous. The emerald silk clung to every dip and curve of your shapely figure, emphasizing the fullness of your hips and the curve of your ass. The neckline dipped low enough to reveal just a slight bit of cleavage--enough to entice, but not so much you'd be tugging on it all night.
The necklace you'd chosen laid perfectly against your chest, the edge barely brushing against the tops of your breasts. It had been a gift from Steve for your birthday this year--a gorgeous platinum diamond and emerald necklace that had to cost a fortune. You so rarely had an opportunity to wear it and it matched so perfectly with your dress that you simply couldn't resist putting it on.
A soft chuckle from the doorway of your closet alerted you to the presence of your husband, Steve. He'd been watching you admire yourself in the mirror, and perhaps checking you out himself.
You smiled at him sweetly. "How long have you been standing there staring?"
"Not quite as long as you," he teased.
"I was making sure I looked presentable," you huffed.
Steve took a step towards you, confidence rolling off of him in waves. "You look a hell of a lot more than just 'presentable', baby. The dress really suits you." He crossed the space between you and wrapped his arms low around your waist.
You draped your arms around his neck, looking up at him with bright eyes. "You think so? My husband bought it for me. He's so generous."
"Hmm," he hummed softly, fingers gently lifting your chin. "He must have a good eye."
"For dresses or women?" you teased breathily, lips centimeters away from his.
He let out a dark laugh, the sound curled around your spine, pulling you even closer to him. "Both." He whispered the word against your lips as he kissed you deeply.
Steve heard the sounds of your other husband, Bucky, approaching the walk-in closet before you did, but he didn't bother to extricate himself from his current position.
Bucky cleared his throat with a good natured grumble when he passed the threshold and saw you both intertwined.
You giggled lightly against Steve's lips before pulling back. "There he is now."
Bucky's eyebrows raised quizzically.
"Ahh," Steve murmured. "The husband with the excellent taste."
Bucky quickly caught on, a proud grin pulling at his lips as he took in the two of you. "I do have good taste, but you're the one making that dress look so damn good."
A light dusting of pink deepened the rosy hue of your cheeks. "You're such a flirt, James."
His grin darkened. "Careful, doll, or we might not make it to the charity gala."
"I didn't put all this effort into my appearance to stay at home," you objected. "Besides, I have the two hottest men on the planet on my arm--and in tuxedos no less. I simply must show them off."
Steve chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. "You know how to flatter a man, don't you sweetheart?"
"It's a gift," you joked, with a little curtsy for emphasis.
The single telltale beep from outside signaled the arrival of your ride for the evening. Sam typically drove you around and accompanied you whenever you left the house on your own. Steve had asked him to drive all three of you this evening, which he was more than happy to do.
"That'll be Sam," Bucky commented. "Do you need a jacket, doll?"
It was sure to be a warm August night, so you graciously declined. "If I get cold, I'll steal one of yours."
Bucky laughed and reached for your hand, cold metal meeting your warm flesh. Steve brushed his hand along your lower back, gently guiding you towards the doorway. You allowed Bucky to lead you down the stairs, careful not to trip on the dress or your heels.
When you stepped out of the spacious brownstone, you saw Sam leaning comfortably against the side of the large black extended cab SUV that would be your ride for the evening. You knew without having to ask that it was bulletproof--and the window tinting was just shy of legal.
Sam shot you a smile as he opened the car door, hand reaching out to assist you into the car. The look Bucky gave him had him retracting the offer with a silent roll of the eyes.
You smacked him on the chest, affectionate but stern. "Don't be rude, James."
"He knows I'm obsessed with you. I'm sure he gets it."
Sam chuckled lowly, a sound echoed by Steve as he stood just behind you, waiting patiently for Bucky to help you into the vehicle. "Me too," he murmured under his breath.
You shot him a sweet smile as you climbed into the backseat, scooting in to allow Steve to climb in behind you. Bucky opened the door on the other side of the large vehicle and climbed in. Neither man gave you much space, both choosing to sit directly beside you, despite the open seats across from you.
It was so like them, both extremely protective and more than a little in love with you. They never wanted to leave your side, not out of some weird possessiveness or sense of ownership--they simply loved being near you. You were the sun their world revolved around.
Of course, they loved each other just as deeply, but neither of them could really control that masculine need to protect--especially when it came to you. They both liked taking care of you, in every single possible way--even if you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.
You'd gotten used to their overly attentive personalities, learning to love how softly they treated you, as if you were the most valuable thing in the world. As far as they were concerned, you were. They would give up their businesses (both legitimate and illegitimate) and retire to some remote part of the world if you asked them to.
It wasn't at all a stretch for them to protect you with physical intimidation or even violence, certainly not with their line of work. It never bothered you, even when one or both of them would come home bloody or injured. You knew if they hurt someone, it was for a damn good reason. They weren't violent just to be violent--it was one of the things that made both of them so well-respected.
Especially Steve. When he'd taken over, the family had been falling apart and fighting amongst themselves. He easily won them all over with his charm, level-headedness, and business savvy mind. He'd made Bucky his second in command the same day he took over, and the two of them had run things together ever since.
You'd met them both when they'd walked into your office one day, asking you if you were willing to work for them as their personal attorney. You knew who they were the moment they introduced themselves. You'd been a lawyer long enough to have heard plenty of rumors--and you'd lived in New York even longer.
It took a little convincing for you to agree, but once you did, the three of you were inseparable. Shortly after that, you found yourself in bed with both of them--and in love not much later. If you asked Bucky who made the first move, he'd insist it was him, but if you asked Steve, he'd say he'd taken the lead. In actuality, it was a combination of both--the attraction was obvious from the moment you'd met and it didn't take much to fall into a real relationship.
What had surprised you, however, was how easy you found it to love them both, without ever feeling like one took priority over the other. They'd been best friends most of their lives, but they hadn't crossed that line until they met you. Falling in love with each other was the simplest part of the relationship--it was the judgment of others that gave you pause in the beginning.
People didn't understand how you could love two men equally, nor did they think it was possible for Steve and Bucky to not be jealous of each other. Natasha had once told you she was surprised Steve was even capable of sharing you with anyone else, but if he was going to do it, Bucky would be the only one he'd ever share with. Turns out she was right.
Within a year, Steve had asked you to marry him and you'd said yes without hesitation. While you couldn't legally marry Bucky, as far as the three of you were concerned, he was just as much your husband as Steve was. You'd stopped caring about people's opinions long ago, now comfortable showing affection to both men in public without hesitation. You referred to both of them as "husband" or "partner" interchangeably, just as they referred to each other or you in the same way.
You'd been together a total of 5 years now, and most people in the life were well aware of your status. You weren't just married to the leader of the largest mafia family on the eastern seaboard and his second in command, you had a valuable role that was not to be belittled. Steve looked to you to help make decisions as often as he looked to Bucky, often deferring to you, especially as it related to legal matters.
Outsiders and newcomers sometimes didn't understand the role you played within the organization, nor could they possibly comprehend the way Steve and Bucky felt about you. They'd set fire to every inch of the planet just to keep you safe--and for them, it wasn't just a saying, it was a threat.
So that was how you found yourself in your current predicament, back pressed against the bar situated along the back of the large event space. You'd stepped away from Bucky for a moment to get something to drink, but you hadn't anticipated being accosted by someone you didn't know.
It had been some time since Steve had last hosted such a charity event--and there had been an influx of young, fresh faces into the city as well as the organization. You knew all of the immediate family--Steve and Bucky's most trusted allies and friends, but some of the newer, lower ranking people were still strangers to you.
One such man had managed to corner you while you ordered your drink, clearly utterly unaware of exactly who you were. He'd said his name was John, not that you cared one way or the other. You hadn't asked for his name, nor had you even looked in his direction.
"How 'bout I take you out sometime?" John was asking you.
"As I said, I'm married." You held up your left hand, wiggling your ring finger for emphasis. The massive rock on your hand left no room for question--you were taken.
"Aw c'mon, sweetheart. I'll show you a good time, I promise. Make ya forget about your husband."
Your jaw clenched and the fake, polite smile you'd plastered on your face began to wane. You wanted to take a step back, but the wood of the bar pressed firmly against your spine, reminding you there was no where to go.
"I'm not interested," you snapped. "I suggest you don't make me say it again."
He leaned forward, suddenly close enough you could smell the whiskey on his breath. "I don't really take no for an answer, baby. Not when your body is practically begging me to touch it."
You inhaled sharply, disgust seeping into you with his words. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the bartender at the other end of the bar, making a drink. His back was to you--utterly unaware of what was happening a few feet away.
"Back the fuck up," you hissed, hands pressing against his chest forcefully.
"Aw, c'mon baby. Let me just get a little taste. I promise you'll want more." His hand landed firmly on your waist, the other grabbing the bar beside you, effectively caging you in.
For the first time in the interaction, you felt a sliver of fear shoot up your spine. Objectively, you knew you were safe, but at the same time you felt on edge. Exposed. Dirty.
Before you could think of a retort, you heard a sharp voice boom across the room. "Get your filthy fucking hands off my wife."
In the blink of an eye, Steve was beside you, yanking John off of you and throwing him against the wall. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" his voice was barely human--rage seeped out from every pore.
Everyone in the room had turned to look at you, assessing the scene with various levels of interest. Bucky, of course, was pushing people out of his way to get to you, not giving a damn if he broke a few bones on the way.
You could hear Steve punch John in the stomach, and the groan that followed, but your eyes stayed locked on Bucky as he approached you. His hands raised immediately, cupping your face as he examined you. "Doll, you okay? What happened? Did he hurt you?"
"He put his fucking hands on her," Steve growled from your right.
Bucky's eyes darkened into the familiar cold stare that terrified even the strongest of men. "You touched our girl?" He directed his words at John, tone full of barely-contained rage.
"I-I didn't know," John stammered. "I didn't know who she belonged to, I swear. If I'd known, I wouldn't-"
"Wouldn't have touched her without her permission?" Steve snapped. "Somehow I doubt that."
Bucky was still holding onto you, but his cold, dark gaze stayed locked on John. "I'm gonna kill him."
You knew Bucky well enough to know he was serious. You placed both palms firmly against his chest, the pressure bringing his attention back to you. His eyes immediately softened, even as his anger continued to boil.
"I'm okay, Buck," you assured him. "Yes, he's a pig and he did touch me without permission-"
Bucky's jaw clenched and you put a little more pressure against his chest.
"-but I'm fine. He touched my waist. That's it, James. I'm just fine."
Your use of his first name calmed him enough to listen to reason, your rational words finally began sinking in. He let out a slow sigh, releasing some of his anger with the breath.
Steve was still holding John against the wall, hand firmly against his neck--tight, but not quite strangling. "What'dya wanna do with him?" He directed his question to you.
"Make sure he knows he fucked up--and to never ever touch any woman without her permission again."
Bucky nodded once, silently agreeing to your request. He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, then stalked over to where Steve stood.
"You want help?" Steve asked lowly.
"Don't want you getting your hands dirty," Bucky murmured. He squeezed his husband's arm, both in comfort and quiet demand.
Steve released John, the latter of which fell to the ground trying to catch his breath. Bucky grabbed him by the back of his jacket and lifted him, dragging him towards the backdoor.
Steve's gaze landed on you, quiet assessment evident on his face. He then looked past you, voice commanding as he spoke. "Sam, go outside and help Bucky."
"On it, boss." Sam stalked off after Bucky, ready and willing to assist him in whatever form or fashion he needed.
The guests in the room began to go back to what they'd been doing prior to the commotion, as Steve made his way slowly over to you. His eyes were so soft, but tinged with worry.
"Darling," you soothed. "There's no need to worry."
"I hate that he thought he had the right to lay a single finger on you."
"Well, obviously I'm not a big fan of that either, but I'm sure he's learning his lesson right about now."
The ghost of a smile flickered across Steve's handsome face. "I would have let Bucky kill him, you know."
"I know," you murmured, "but I'd rather not have any dead bodies tonight."
Steve looked at you with such deep affection and tenderness, it nearly hurt. His hand was so gentle as he brushed it softly against your cheek, the movement almost reverent in its clear devotion. "I love you so damn much," he expressed. "I'll always protect you."
You smiled and rose on your tiptoes to press a warm kiss to his plush lips. "You and Bucky are my safe place, Stevie. Of course I know you'll protect me. And for the record, I love you just as much."
"Impossible," he breathed, diving in for a deeper kiss.
You giggled softly when he pulled away. You just loved how soft he was with you. You and Bucky were the only two people in the world that got to really see this side of him and it meant everything to you.
"Now we could stand here and debate who loves who more all night, but you've got guests to mingle with--and they've got checks to write." You added a wink to punctuate your jest.
"I'd much rather stand here and hold you," he countered. "Maybe kiss you until your knees buckle and you're begging me to take you home."
Dark red heat bloomed across your cheeks. "As much as I'd love that, you have a job to do. So shoo--go mingle."
He sighed, a slight pout on his lips. "Fine, but only because I can't say no to you."
You laughed softly. "That seems like an excellent reason."
He kissed you softly before stepping back. He gave you one last longing look before rejoining the party.
You turned to face the bar and took a long swig of the drink you'd ordered before the whole ordeal with John, downing it faster than you should have. Just as you signaled the bartender for another one, a familiar presence leaned against the bar and let out a dramatic sigh.
"Is he dead yet?" Natasha asked, a slightly amused note to her tone.
"Bucky and Sam are just teaching him a lesson--no bodies tonight."
"Ugh," she grumbled. "Why do they get to have all the fun?"
You looked at your friend and shook your head with a chuckle. "If you see him again, you have my permission to break his jaw."
The grin that spread across her face was predatory, but you didn't feel fear. She'd never hurt you. "Excellent." Her expression softened as she turned to look at you properly. "Seriously though--you okay?"
You glared at her. "Walk your pretty little tush right back over to my husband and tell him I'm fine and do not need a baby sitter."
She threw her hands in the air in surrender. "Easy, mama bear. Sheesh. I'm asking as your friend, not as Steve's little minion."
"Since when are you calling yourself 'Steve's little minion'?" you joked.
"I was trying it out," she revealed. "Turns out, I'm not a fan."
She joined in with your quiet laughter. Once you'd settled back with your third drink, you loosed a soft sigh. "I am okay, Nat. Truly."
"Good." She grabbed your drink and slurped from the straw, ignoring your glare. "Worry makes a girl thirsty."
"Oh shut up," you grumbled, rolling your eyes. You were about to make another joke, when the backdoor opened and in walked Bucky. You straightened up, eyes immediately scanning his large form for any signs of distress.
It wasn't until he was a few feet away from you that you noticed the spots of blood adorning his previously white shirt, along with the blood seeping from the split knuckles of his right hand. The second he reached your side, you grabbed his arm and pulled his hand closer for proper inspection.
"Damnit, James," you cursed. "You have a metal arm for christ's sake."
He looked down at his hand, trying to pull it away, but your grip remained ironclad. "It's nothing, doll. Just a couple little scratches."
"All four of your knuckles are split open and bleeding on the floor. I wouldn't call that nothing." You looked over at Nat, who immediately understood your silent request.
"I'll go find a first aid kit."
"I don't need first aid-" Bucky started to argue, but your glare shut him up.
You shifted his hand, noting the deep purple bruising already forming beneath the cuts. "Beautiful idiot," you mumbled to yourself. "Has a goddamn metal arm, but uses the flesh one."
A soft chuckle broke through Bucky's stoic demeanor. "You think I'm beautiful?"
"And an idiot. Don't leave that part out."
"I'm choosing to accept the compliment."
"I'm serious though, Buck. Why injure yourself?"
He glanced down at his hand in yours, an almost pained expression crossing his face. "In part, it was punishment for not protecting you--for not being there when you needed me."
His words broke your heart, but before you could respond, Natasha returned with a first aid kit. You thanked her and began pulling out antiseptic and bandages. You set about cleaning his wounds, shushing him when he let out a hiss of displeasure.
"You didn't have to punish yourself, baby," you murmured sternly. "You did nothing wrong."
He shrugged. "That was only part of it--I also like the point the bruises and cuts make to other people. It very clearly says 'stay away from my wife or I'll break your face'. Besides, I'm right handed anyway."
A broken laugh escaped you without permission, but the sound brought a smile to Bucky's face. "You're still an idiot, but I love you all the same."
His smile seemed to expand, lighting up his entire face. "I love you too, pretty girl."
He sat quietly on the barstool, watching you as you cleaned his wounds, applied ointment, and gently wrapped his knuckles. You brought his hand up to your lips and placed the softest of kisses to the bandage, bringing yet another smile to his face.
"There--all better."
"Can I have one of those right here?" he asked teasingly, pointing to his soft lips.
You giggled and leaned in, more than happy to oblige such a request. When you broke the kiss, you gave him the same little speech you'd given Steve. "You've got money to collect, mister. So go intimidate people with that murderous stare you do."
Bucky laughed. "I think Steve can handle things, doll. I don't wanna leave you alone."
"Natasha is literally three feet away." You both looked at her and she gave you a little wave. "I think I'll be just fine. Go help our husband. Pleaseeee."
He rolled his eyes affectionately at your exaggerated plea, but he stood up and adjusted his jacket. "How 'bout I just summon people over here? We can intimidate them together."
"James, go be a good helper. You know these kind of schmoozey events make me gag. I already did the rounds with you earlier. I'm good for the rest of the night."
He continued to give you a pouty expression, which you did find endearing. The look gave you an idea, and a little smirk perked up the corners of your mouth.
"If you go help Stevie for the rest of evening, I'll give you a special treat on the way home."
Bucky's eyes darkened knowingly. "What sort of treat?"
You leaned in closely so only he could hear you. "The kind that involves my mouth and your cock."
A low growl of approval rumbled through his chest. "You're a menace, doll. You know that?"
"Oh, I'm very aware. Now shoo."
He was quick to do as you asked, shooting one last longing glance over his shoulder before stepping into the crowd.
"You've really got them wrapped around your finger," Nat mused as she took up her spot beside you again.
"It's mutual," you admitted.
**********
"I'm about ten seconds from dragging both of you out of here," Bucky grumbled when you appeared at his side over an hour later.
"I wouldn't object." You glanced around the room, spotting Steve with ease. He was already looking at the two of you with an expression you recognized instantly. "I don't think Stevie would either."
Bucky followed your gaze, a small grin spreading across his lips as he met his partner's heated stare. "He's got that look, doll."
"We're gonna be in for a long night." Neither of you would complain about it--you both enjoyed when Steve's inherent dominance reared up, as it so often did when he was stressed.
You caught the small shiver that spread through Bucky's limbs, and decided you'd lean into the role as well. You loved watching Bucky squirm, especially when it was for both you and Steve. "You're panting already, baby," you purred lowly so only he could hear.
His head snapped in your direction, eyes betraying the pure hunger he was experiencing. "So it's gonna be that kind of night?" You heard the undercurrent of excitement and it only made you smirk more deeply.
"Do you want it to be, pretty boy?"
He let out an involuntary groan, left hand shooting out and gripping your hip forcefully. He tugged you firmly against him as he looked down at you like he wanted you to eat him alive. "I'd drop to my knees for you right now if you asked."
The laugh that escaped your parted lips was equally flirtatious and needy. "Oh I know you would, sweetheart."
"Is it acceptable to leave my own charity event early?" Steve asked as he reached your side, voice hushed, but the undercurrent of desire was still evident.
Bucky responded "Yes" at the same moment you said, "I don't think anyone would care if we snuck out."
Steve's responding grin told you he was deadly serious. "Bucky, go find Sam. Tell him to bring the car around." While his words were directed at Bucky, his eyes never left your face.
Bucky moved unnaturally fast, searching for Sam with the intensity of a heat-seeking missile.
Steve took a step towards you, closing the gap between you as his hands rested low on your hips, just a hair shy of outwardly grabbing your ass. Much like Bucky, Steve would have taken you right there in the middle of a room full of people if you'd been so inclined.
"What's got our boy so excited, honey?"
"I may have promised him a little something for the car ride home."
Steve's eyebrows lifted enough to show his intrigue. "Oh? What sort of thing did you promise?"
"You'll see," you assured him. "I also may have implied he could sub for both of us tonight."
You heard the sharp intake of breath that accompanied the shift in his gaze. "You read my fucking mind."
You grinned ear to ear and he leaned down to kiss the smile right off your lips. The kiss was so passionate and deep you couldn't help but squirm against him, pussy already soaking your underwear to an embarrassing degree.
Bucky's heavy breaths alerted you to his return, but you still took your time extracting yourself from Steve's firm grip.
"Sam's pulling the car up," Bucky announced.
"Perfect. Let's go." You started to follow Bucky, but you paused for a moment to address Steve. "One more thing, baby."
"Hmm?"
"You're gonna sit and watch what I do to Bucky on the way home."
Steve's gaze darkened impossibly. You were the only person he ever allowed to tell him what to do--even Bucky never did. "Is this a punishment?"
You eyed him quizzically. "Do you deserve to be punished?"
"I let that bastard put his hands on you."
"You nearly crushed his windpipe for it--I don't think you let him do anything." You gave him a gentle smile. "So no, it's not a punishment. I just like to watch you squirm."
With that, you spun on your heel, racing after Bucky. Steve was stunned for a split second before he took off after you, catching up with ease. You were giggling as you stumbled out the front door, running directly into Bucky's chest.
"What in the world are you two doing?" he teased as Steve bolted out the door moments later.
"We're in a hurry to get home, obviously," you squealed as he lightly ran his fingers over your sides in a teasing motion.
Sam pulled up a second later and Bucky had you in his arms and halfway to the car before Sam could even get out. Steve climbed into the car on the other side. He leaned forward to mutter something to Sam, who simply shook his head with a quiet chuckle before pushing a button on the center console. The dark partition between the front and back of the car rose up, effectively blocking Sam's view of you.
As soon as Sam started to pull away, Bucky looked down at you, still perched in his lap. "Did you tell Stevie what you promised me?"
"I hinted...he knows he needs to behave."
Bucky let out a low groan. He loved when you took control, especially over Steve. It was an incredible turn-on for him to witness the strongest man he knew bend to your every whim. He loved it almost as he loved being the sub in the relationship...in the bedroom, at least.
You pulled yourself off Bucky's lap, dropping to your knees on the floor in front of him. You looked over at Steve, who was already breathing hard as he watched your every move. "Don't touch yourself," you ordered firmly.
You turned your attention back to Bucky, ignoring the groan of frustration from Steve. He scooted closer to Bucky, not quite touching him, so you allowed it.
Your fingers made quick work of Bucky's belt and slacks, sliding them down enough to free his already throbbing cock. He'd had a difficult time keeping himself from getting hard at the damn gala with the way you'd teased him, but all restraint had gone out the window the moment Steve told him to have Sam get the car.
"You're always so ready for me," you murmured, soft hand wrapping around his cock and stroking it with a gentle, slow pace.
Bucky's lips parted, a soft sigh slipping past them. He watched you breathlessly, both wanting more and not wanting you to stop. You kept your eyes locked on his as you slowly lowered your mouth to his cock, tongue darting out to lick the precum from the tip. His responding gasp sent a thrill of need straight to your core.
You teased his head with your tongue, fingers still slowly stroking the rest. You were taking your time and Bucky's patience was waning--as was Steve's.
"Doll, please," Bucky whimpered.
"C'mon sweet boy. You can do better than that."
"Suck my cock baby, please. I need it--need it so bad."
"Much better," you murmured before taking him slowly into your mouth. You relaxed your throat and eased him past your gag reflex with a guttural groan.
Your eyes flicked over to meet Steve's hungry gaze, his expression made your pussy clench around air. His jaw was slack and he was watching you suck Bucky's cock like it was his own cock in your mouth--or perhaps like he was the one on his knees. Either way, you wanted it to be good for both of them.
Bucky's stuttered breaths and desperate groans filled the vehicle, loud enough that Sam nonchalantly turned up the music. You would have laughed if your throat wasn't full of your husband's cock.
Steve whimpered softly, gaining your attention once again.
"Can I kiss him? Please?" he begged.
You lifted off Bucky long enough to give him permission--barely a second passed before your mouth was around him again. Steve didn't hesitate, he leaned over and grabbed Bucky's face, smashing their lips together in a bruising kiss--all teeth and tongue.
You could see Steve's cock straining against the fabric of his slacks, aching to be touched. You fully intended to have his cock in your mouth before the night ended, but you wanted him to be patient.
Bucky's left hand slipped behind Steve's neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss, while his right fisted into your hair, grip almost painfully tight. Steve didn't want to leave his lips, so he was forced to swallow every sound Bucky made, each one making him want the both of you more.
You saw Steve's hand palm his cock almost as if on instinct alone. You weren't sure he was even aware he was doing it, but when his fingers gave it a squeeze and a desperate moan slipped into Bucky's open mouth, you pulled away, letting Bucky's leaking cock bounce against his abdomen.
"Wait-why-" Bucky stuttered.
You waited for Steve to look at you. You looked down pointedly at his hand still pressed against his cock, then back up at him. "What did I say?"
His cheeks were tinged with pink and he gave you a sheepish look. "I'm sorry, baby--I didn't mean to."
You huffed softly. "Every time you touch yourself, I stop. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he breathed.
Bucky's wide eyes bounced back and forth between the two of you. "Please, Stevie."
"I won't do it again," he promised both of you.
You gave a firm nod before taking Bucky back into your mouth, renewing the fast pace you'd been in the middle of. His gasp of pleasure was immediate, hand once more tightening in your hair.
Steve curved his body so he could lay both hands against Bucky's chest, mostly to avoid even the slightest chance of inadvertently touching his own cock. He leaned into his husband's neck, lips brushing against the soft skin.
Bucky leaned into Steve's touch, louder and more frequent moans leaving his plush lips. You knew he was close--you could feel it in the way his entire body tensed and his cock pulsed in your mouth.
"Fuck, doll--so good," he groaned loudly. "G-gonna come."
Barely half a second after the words left his mouth, you pulled back, releasing his cock and sitting back against your heels. The whimper of devastation he made had a wicked smile spreading across your lips.
"Wh-why'd you stop?" he gasped desperately.
"Oh sweetheart--you didn't think I was gonna let you come that easily, did you?"
His eyes rolled back slightly at your words, hips canting up towards the air. "That's not fair."
"Maybe not, sweet boy, but I don't intend on allowing you to come more than once tonight."
His eyes widened and even Steve looked surprised. Both men were more than capable of having multiple orgasms, and usually you delighted in their pleasure.
"You were so good to me at the gala, baby," you soothed. "Coming to my aid like that, protecting me--you deserve something extra special for it. So Stevie and I are gonna edge you all night long, until we decide to allow you to come."
Steve realized your plan, a dark grin spreading across his face. "You'll have such an incredible orgasm, baby."
Bucky's gaze snapped back and forth between you and Steve, looking unsure and perhaps a little concerned. "I don't know if I can handle that."
Your expression softened immediately and you rose back onto your knees as you reached to cup his face in your hands. "Baby, if it's too much for you, tell us. We'd never do anything to hurt you. We'll use our colors like always, okay?"
He relaxed a little, looking more comfortable with the idea.
"We want you to enjoy yourself," Steve added. "If we do anything you don't like, just say something. We'll stop immediately."
It wasn't that Bucky didn't know these things--he was used to trying a wide variety of sexual fantasies and experiences. He was always willing to do anything once, but he'd never managed not to come for an entire session with the two of you. He wasn't sure he'd have the required self-control, but he liked the idea of edging, so he was willing to try.
"I trust you both," Bucky murmured. "And you know I'm willing to give it a shot."
You smiled warmly, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Good boy."
A soft groan escaped his lips and his cock twitched against his abdomen. He had the biggest praise kink you'd ever witnessed--and that was coming from someone who also had one.
A simple praise could have him hard and ready to go no matter the location--he'd once dragged you to the bathroom in the middle of grocery shopping to fuck your brains out just because he'd grabbed something from a high shelf for you and you'd said "You're so good to me, James." That was all it took.
Steve, unsurprisingly, had a very heavy title kink. He liked to be in control both in the real world and in the bedroom, so very rarely showing his vulnerability to anyone but the two of you. He loved it when you or Bucky called him 'sir'--it made him want to give either of you anything you wanted.
"He really is so good for us, isn't he sweetheart?" Steve asked sweetly, eyes sweeping down to yours then back up to Bucky's.
"Always," you agreed.
Bucky's cheeks reddened, but you weren't sure if it was a blush, need, or both. "Doll?" His tone was soft and tentative. "Can you-um-can you suck my cock again? Please? We're not home yet and I just--I want you."
"Aww, sweet boy. Your cock can't handle being ignored?"
Bucky shook his head rapidly.
You met Steve's hungry gaze, catching the silent question lingering there. Your lips spread into a wolfish grin as you turned your attention back to Bucky. "As sweet as you sounded asking me to suck your pretty cock, I'm going to have to say 'no'."
Bucky immediately began to pout, lips parting with the intent to start begging.
"But I'll let Stevie give it a try," you finished.
Bucky's mouth closed and he looked at Steve, the blonde's eyes were locked on your face waiting for you to give him the okay. You nodded your head towards Bucky's cock before getting up to switch spots with Steve.
Steve was incredibly eager, as much as you had been, and the moment his knees hit the floor, his mouth was wrapped around Bucky's cock.
"Holy, fuck--" Bucky gasped.
Steve's responding hum sent a thrilling vibration through his body. You reached out and grabbed the side of his face, turning him to face you so you could kiss him. The kiss was messy and hungry--tongues fighting for dominance in a dance you usually let him win.
Bucky's hips rolled up involuntarily, gagging Steve as his massive cock shoved further into Steve's throat. Bucky looked down at his partner, an apologetic look on his face, but Steve merely smiled around his cock.
Steve was arguably the messiest oral sex-giver on the planet, regardless of whether he was sucking Bucky's cock or eating your pussy. Both activities were his all-time favorites, and it showed.
That, of course, meant both Bucky's cock and Steve's chin were covered in saliva, and you were likely ruining your dress with how much your pussy was fucking weeping. You'd definitely soaked through the pretty lace underwear you'd worn, and now watching your husband suck your other husband's cock had you reaching a new level of desperation.
Bucky gripped Steve's hair tightly, giving another roll of his hips. When Steve didn't stop, Bucky began to thrust into his mouth with more force. You watched, soft pants slipping past your lips.
Bucky's sounds of pleasure began to increase in intensity, so you leaned in close and murmured in his ear, "You better stop before you come, James--or you won't get to fuck either of us for a week."
Bucky's hips came to an immediate halt, a choked groan breaking free. Steve very slowly lifted himself from Bucky's cock, making sure to give the tip a few kitten licks before backing up completely and wiping his mouth.
All three of you were breathing heavily, and the entire vehicle was filled with an electric charge that seemed to draw you together. All of you were desperate for more, but it would have to wait until you were home.
You knew you had to be nearing the brownstone, so you give a little nod to Steve, which he understood immediately. Steve was gentle as he gripped Bucky's cock, slowly easing it back into his pants.
Bucky groaned, the sensitivity already beginning to take hold. He zipped up his pants with shaking hands, unable to look at either of you. He was certain if he did, he'd lose control.
"When we get home," you began softly, "I want both of you to remind me exactly who I belong to." John's voice from earlier flashed through your mind: 'I didn't know who she belonged to.'
Steve's eyes darkened slightly, but he recalled John's words as well as you did. "As much as I love reminding you, darling, you do know we don't think of you as property right? You don't belong to anyone."
"Stevie, I would never think that. We've been together far too long for me to ever think either of you viewed me that way."
He nodded slowly. "I just wanted to make sure. I didn't like the way that bastard made it sound like we owned you."
You gave him a soft, reassuring smile. "I didn't care for it either. I probably should rephrase my request. When we get home, I want you both to remind me who this pussy belongs to."
Both men released deep, guttural groans.
"Christ, doll," Bucky cursed lowly.
Steve said nothing, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he looked at you like a predator eyeing prey. He always loved asking 'whose pussy is this' while he was pounding into you. You knew it would have the desired effect on him now.
"I thought you were in charge tonight," Steve teased, voice unnaturally deep.
You swallowed thickly, thighs clenching together of their own accord. "I-I am. That doesn't mean you can't remind me."
Steve's smirk told you he knew your control over him was not gonna make it through the night. Bucky was easy to dom, subbing was his preferred role, but Steve only subbed for you--and he was very quick to take back his dominance.
Not that you minded--at all. You preferred Steve being in control, but every once in a while you wanted to hold the reins. Tonight was on of those nights...but you could already feel the urge to submit to Steve creeping in.
Before any of you could say anything further, the car pulled to a stop and Sam rapped his knuckles on the partition, alerting all of you that you were home.
"You okay to walk, handsome?" you teased Bucky lowly.
"I might walk a little funny, but I think I can make it."
Steve opened the car door before Sam could, assuming accurately that the bodyguard wasn't exactly keen on opening the door without knowing everyone in the backseat was decent.
He was the first to step out, reaching a hand out to help Bucky out first, then you. Bucky's legs were a little shaky, but otherwise he seemed perfectly put together.
Steve didn't let you get more than half a step before he was sweeping you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest, intent on carrying you inside.
Sam merely chuckled and shut the car door, head shaking at his boss's antics. "Goodnight you three."
"Goodnight, Sam!" you called over Steve's shoulder.
Bucky simply waved, voice a little too hoarse from all the moaning to respond without alerting Sam to exactly what had been happening in that backseat. Steve nodded at him, his only indication of appreciation before he followed Bucky into the brownstone.
The moment you'd crossed the threshold, Bucky was shutting and locking the door. He started to strip, leaving articles of clothing all over the floor as he headed upstairs to your shared bedroom.
Steve merely laughed as he followed, arms still supporting your weight. You didn't like it when either man carried you up or down stairs--you weren't light and it wasn't good for their backs--but you knew better than to argue with them. You had never managed to get them to listen.
When you reached the bedroom, Bucky was already naked and on the bed, ready and waiting for whatever came next. Steve let out a low grunt of approval as he sat you down on the edge of the bed.
He started to remove his own clothes, deft fingers moving shockingly quickly. Even his incredible self-control was fraying at the edges.
You tugged off your heels and tossed them aside before standing up and turning your back to Steve, silently asking him to unzip your dress. He did so, much more slowly than he'd removed his own clothes, and he helped you step out of the dress.
Before the dress even hit the floor, Steve had unhooked your bra and pushed the straps off your shoulders. You giggled softly as your heavy breasts slipped free from the lacy fabric.
Bucky's eyes were on your body as more and more of it was revealed. He wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss you--and he wanted to stroke his own cock in equal measure. He knew better than to try, at least without permission.
"What's wrong, pretty baby?" you murmured, voice sickly sweet. You could tell Bucky wanted something, but he was gonna have to use his words.
"Wanna touch you," he whimpered.
Steve stepped forward and wrapped his arms possessively around your waist. "Not yet, sweetheart. You've gotta watch me first."
Bucky let out a whine that sent a wave of need straight to your core. "Can I touch my cock? Please, sir?" He knew exactly what he was doing--and he wasn't above begging either one of you.
Steve's cock brushed against your lace-covered ass, as he bit back a groan. "What do you think, honey?" He kissed your shoulder, but his eyes stayed locked on Bucky. "Should we let him?"
You pretended to think on it for a moment. "He's been such a good boy for us. He deserves a reward."
Steve chuckled darkly, mouth still laving messy kisses to your sweet skin. "You heard her, sweet boy. You can touch your cock."
Bucky's hand gripped his cock instantly, a groan of relief slipping past his parted lips. "Thank you, sir--thank you."
"Baby?" Steve murmured against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
"Hmm?"
"Go get the anal vibe."
You gasped softly, wondering who exactly the toy was for. You knew better than to argue, especially when he used his dominant tone. You scurried off to the closet, finding the box with the various sex toys the three of you had purchased over the years.
It didn't take long for you to find the vibrator Steve requested. It was a black silicone prostate massager with a remote--a remote Steve often let you control.
When you came back into the room, toy in hand, Steve's cock was shoved into Bucky's mouth from above, the blonde's head thrown back in ecstasy.
An involuntary whimper left your lips and Steve turned his head to look your way, a dark smile spreading across his lips. "Hey, baby. C'mere."
You moved closer to the bed as if pulled by some invisible string, but you weren't quite ready to relinquish control just yet. "Did I say you could get your cock sucked?"
The corners of Steve's lips quirked, but his eyes darkened just enough for you to know he liked your tone. "Do you want him to stop?"
"Yes."
Steve got off Bucky immediately, the latter whining at the loss. He looked at you, eyes pleading, but when you held up the vibrator in your hand, his expression shifted.
"Stevie--get the lube, please."
Steve reached into the nightstand drawer and grabbed a bottle. Your eyes remained locked on Bucky's. You stuck your hand out towards Steve, who placed the bottle in your hand. You carefully smoothed a small amount onto the vibrator before handing the bottle back to Steve.
"Roll over for me, sweet boy. All fours."
Bucky did as you asked without hesitation, gorgeous ass ready and willing to take whatever you gave him.
"Good boy," you murmured gently. You climbed onto the bed, gentle hands rubbing against his ass cheeks. "You ready?"
"Yes, please."
You smiled, leaning down to place a gentle kiss against the small of his back. You slowly inserted the toy into him, soft sighs escaping the brunette as he took the toy without issue.
"So good for me," you praised. "Now go ahead and suck Stevie's cock like the good little boy you are."
Bucky crawled over to where Steve was resting on his knees, cock throbbing almost painfully. Bucky was quick to suck Steve back into his mouth, earning a gasped moan from the blonde.
You held up the remote, silently asking Steve if he wanted to do it. He shook his head and gave you a wink. You smiled as you pressed the button to turn on the vibration.
Bucky groaned desperately around Steve's cock, the stimulation a much-loved sensation he was more than ready for.
"Jesus, Buck," Steve said, hand firmly in Bucky's hair. "The mouth on you--you take my cock like you were made for it."
"He was," you murmured.
Steve looked over at you and smiled. "Come a little closer, pretty girl. Wanna kiss you."
You did as he asked, pressing your chest against him as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. He used his free hand to rub your breasts, pinching your nipples to harden them.
As soon as he deemed you ready, he broke the kiss, mouth dropping to your breasts. You threw your head back, a soft moan slipping past your lips as he took your nipple into his mouth. You ran your fingers through his now-messy hair, giving it a little tug the way you knew he liked.
In response, his teeth grazed your nipple, a sensation that shot straight to your aching pussy. A needy whimper mixed with Steve's soft groan and your hips bucked forward, seeking any friction.
Steve broke away from you as a deep groan forced its way from his chest. "Fuck-sweet boy," he exhaled sharply. "I'm so fucking close."
Bucky merely moaned around his cock, eliciting yet another groan from Steve. The blonde looked at you with desperate eyes. "Wanna come, baby. Can I? Can I come down his throat? Make him fucking choke on it?"
You turned up the vibration one more level before you responded. Steve yelped slightly as Bucky's grip on his thighs tightened in response to the added stimulation. "Fuck his face, baby. Go ahead--make him take all your cum."
Steve let out a sound that could only be described as a roar. He gripped Bucky's head and started thrusting desperately, ignoring the gagging sounds echoing throughout the room. "Fuck, Bucky--just like that. Taking my cock so well."
You watched the scene unfold in front of you, unable to tear your eyes away from either man. The ecstasy on Steve's face and the utter devotion on Bucky's made both of them so fucking beautiful it nearly hurt to witness.
"Oh shit, gonna-christ-gonna come." Two thrusts later and Steve exploded into Bucky's mouth, the latter of which drank down every single drop like the good boy he was.
Steve shakily pulled his cock from his lover's mouth, chest heaving with the exertion of his orgasm. You reached out and grabbed Bucky's face, tugging him towards you, desperate to taste the cum you knew still coated his tongue. You kissed him deeply, moaning at the taste of Steve's release.
Bucky pulled himself up so he could kiss you properly, rolling you onto the bed so your back pressed firmly into the mattress. He ground his cock down onto you without thinking, as his tongue delved even deeper into your mouth.
Steve let the scene play out for a moment before grabbing Bucky's hair and pulling him back. "Our baby's been so good tonight--I think it's her turn to come."
Bucky nodded quickly, catching on right away. He lowered his lips back down to you and began kissing slowly down your body. His entire body was shaking with barely restrained need, control slipping ever so slightly the closer he got to your pussy.
"You gonna eat her out, sweet boy?" Steve asked softly. "Gonna make her cry with pleasure?"
"Yes, sir," Bucky whimpered. "Gonna make her feel so good."
Steve smiled. "Good boy." He reached over to pick up the remote from the bed, turning up the vibration yet again.
Bucky let out a choked moan and his body shivered as the pleasure seeped into him. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, but he wanted to make sure you came at least once before he lost control.
Bucky wasted no time diving into your dripping pussy. He tore your lace underwear right in half, exposing you to his waiting mouth. His tongue was on you instantly, lapping through your folds and finding your clit with ease.
Your hands shot down to his hair as you rolled your hips against his mouth. "Fuck, baby--so good. Just like that."
Steve laid on his side next to you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss the moment you looked his direction. He played with your nipples while Bucky feasted on you--the dual sensations sending you spiraling towards orgasm with incredible speed.
"How's she taste, Buck?" Steve asked when he pulled away from your lips.
Bucky lifted his head only for a moment. "Divine."
You whimpered at his response, the praise going straight to your pussy. You gasped as he pressed two metal fingers to your entrance, circling gently before pressing in and seeking out the spot that would make you see stars.
With one hand you gripped tightly onto Bucky's hair, and with the other you pulled Steve down to you again, kissing him hungrily. Steve swallowed every little sound you made, cock hardening once again.
"Oh god!" you gasped loudly. Bucky knew what the whiny pitch to your voice meant and he redoubled his efforts. "Bucky--please! Oh fuck--fuck!"
The orgasm crashed into you with more force than you were expecting, sending shooting bolts of pleasure through every inch of your body. Bucky's mouth stayed locked on your clit as he helped you ride out the orgasm, while Steve pressed kisses to your face soothingly.
You tugged lightly on Bucky's hair, just enough to let him know you needed a moment, and he gave you one last lick before sitting up.
Steve smiled at him while you caught your breath. "You did so well, pretty boy. C'mere and let me taste her."
Bucky crawled up your body to get close enough to kiss Steve. The blonde licked into his husband's mouth, tasting your sweetness on Bucky's tongue. A soft moan escaped and he pulled away.
"Lay down on the bed, Buck. It's your turn to watch. I need to taste her properly."
"Stevie, I-" you started, while Bucky did as he was told.
"Shh, you can take it, baby girl. I know you can," Steve cooed as he settled between your thighs.
He didn't give you even a second to breathe before his tongue was diving into your pussy with a kind of hunger you hadn't seen from him in a while. He was so damn good with his mouth, he had you crying from the pleasure in under a minute.
Bucky was lying beside you now, brushing a soothingly cool metal hand across your face, talking you through the blinding pleasure. "Just breathe for me, doll. You're doing so good for Stevie. You gotta let him eat his fill."
You couldn't speak, so the only sounds in the room were Bucky's gentle words and the sinful sounds of Steve eating your pussy like it was his fucking calling in life.
When you came this time, you grabbed ahold of Bucky, using his strong frame to ground you while Steve continued to eat you out. Even when you started to wriggle away from him, he didn't want to stop, but when the tugging on his hair became painful, he relented.
"Ya know, sweetheart, I could stay between these pretty thighs for the rest of my damn life. Tastes so damn good."
You smiled at your husband's sweet words, reaching for him, wanting to pull him closer. He obliged, coming to hover over you and kiss you properly.
"Stevie," you whimpered against his lips. "Need you to fuck me--please."
Bucky whined from beside you, but Steve ignored him.
"I'd like nothing better, baby." Steve gripped his cock and lined it up with your entrance. He turned his attention to Bucky before he thrust. "Lie on your back for us, sweet boy. Go ahead and stroke your cock nice and slow--don't come yet."
Bucky rolled onto his back, the action forcing the vibrator a little deeper into him. He gasped as a new wave of pleasure hit him and he gripped his cock tightly for a moment, unable to move.
Steve handed you the remote, silently offering you the option to turn up the intensity. You turned to look at Bucky and you were struck by how beautiful he looked. He looked absolutely wrecked, chest heaving, cock heavy and leaking in his hand, a light sheen of sweat coating his whole body--he was gorgeous.
"You look so fucking sexy right now, Buck," you praised. His eyes met yours and he whimpered at your praise. "Think you can handle one more level?" You held up the remote to ensure he understood.
"I-I don't know, doll," he exhaled heavily. "It's already so much."
"Maybe we try it? And if it's too much you tell me, okay?"
Bucky nodded slowly, eyes filled with worry.
"Hey sweet boy--what's your color?" you murmured, brushing his hair off his sweaty forehead.
"G-green."
You smiled. "Good." You increased the intensity one last time and the sound that left Bucky's throat was nothing more than a strangled cry of ecstasy.
Steve watched you both, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. He started to sink into you, bringing your attention back to him. He watched as your mouth parted, soft gasps slipping past your lips as he stretched you.
"You're always so goddamn tight," he growled.
You clung to his biceps, nails digging in as he bottomed out--releasing a groan from both of you. He didn't give you any time to adjust--you didn't really need it anyway. He started pounding into you with a force that told you he wasn't going to last long.
"God, you always feel so fucking good," he moaned.
Bucky's soft whimpering gasps filled your ears as he stroked himself slowly beside you and tried his hardest not to come.
"Stevie--harder."
"Yes ma'am." He slammed into you harshly, pushing himself even deeper into you. He lifted your hips the way he knew you liked, the angle allowing him to slam into your g-spot with every thrust.
Your sensitivity meant you were already on the brink of coming again--and your desperate moans and fluttering pussy alerted Steve.
"Jesus, baby girl--already close? Squeezing me so fucking tight."
You nodded rapidly, a broken "please" all you could manage to say.
"You hear that, Buck? She's already falling apart for me. So damn good, isn't she?"
Bucky could barely form words, but he managed to force out, "So good, sir."
"Yeah-yeah she fucking is." Steve's hips somehow moved even faster, forcing you into another spiral of endless pleasure. The scream that ripped from your throat, along with the way your pussy spasmed around him, sent Steve over the edge. He came with a sharp groan of your name, cum filling you up and dripping out as his hips stuttered through a few more thrusts.
"So good, baby," Steve whispered against your lips. "So, so good."
You couldn't say anything yet, just a little whimper when he pulled out of you. He turned his attention to Bucky, who was barely holding on.
"Alright, Buck. Your turn. You can fuck her."
Bucky froze. "Will I-will I be allowed to come?"
"That's up to our girl."
Both men looked at you, waiting for your response. You managed a quiet, "Maybe" inbetween breaths.
Bucky's eyes were wide, as if he wasn't sure he could handle it. Steve wanted to soothe him, so he offered a compromise. "How 'bout we take the vibrator out, huh? Let you just feel our wife's perfect pussy for a little bit."
"Please sir. I'd like that."
"Okay, sweet boy." Steve reached for the remote and turned the vibration off. Bucky's body seemed to sag in relief. "Can you get up, baby?"
Bucky pulled himself up and Steve moved out of the way, allowing Bucky to settle over top of you. Steve was gentle as he slowly removed the toy from Bucky, another soft exhale leaving the brunette at the relief.
Bucky peppered soft kisses to your face, affection oozing from him. "You look so pretty like this, doll," he murmured sweetly.
You smiled warmly, fingertips tracing along the hard lines of his face. "I love you."
The smile that spread across his face warmed every inch of your body. "I love you too." He kissed you deeply, sighing softly into the kiss as he explored your mouth.
"Sweet girl," Steve murmured, interrupting the tender moment. "Why don't you get on your hands and knees for Bucky?"
Bucky froze, eyes wide as he stared down at you.
"Stevie, are you sure?" you asked tentatively. "You know he has a hard time lasting in that position."
"Oh, I'm sure sweetheart. Roll over." Steve's tone left no room for argument, so you rolled over and lifted your ass toward Bucky.
You felt his shaking hands land on your ass and you turned your head to look at him. "You okay, baby?"
He nodded, but his hands continued to shake. Steve noticed, and immediately checked in with his husband. "Easy, baby. What's your color?"
"Yellow," he whispered. "I just-I need a second."
"Shh," Steve hushed gently. "It's alright--take your time. We'll go as slow as you need to."
Steve moved closer and began to rub gentle, comforting circles into Bucky's back, calming the other man slowly. You didn't move in order to allow Bucky to grow used to the sight and perhaps ease his mind a little. You offered him a sweet, soft smile when he looked your way and you once again whispered "I love you."
A small smile eased across his handsome face. "I love you more."
"And I love you both more," Steve murmured.
You reached out a hand, which Steve grabbed immediately, squeezing it tightly. Bucky laid his on top and you noticed it had stopped shaking. Steve noticed too.
"Where you at now, sweetheart?"
"I'm better, sir," Bucky promised.
"Color?"
"Green, sir."
Steve smiled and so did you. "Go ahead and fuck her, pretty boy. Whenever you're ready."
Bucky exhaled slowly and lined himself up with your entrance. He could see Steve's cum leaking out and dripping down your thighs and it only made him want you more. He pushed in with one deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
You both moaned when his hips connected to your ass, and he took a few moments to collect himself before beginning to thrust. You kept your head turned back towards him as best you could, wanting both to reassure him and appreciate the beautiful sight.
Steve was kneeling behind Bucky, peppering kisses all over his back, shoulders, and neck--affection dripping from each movement. Bucky's grip on your hips was bruisingly tight and you knew you'd have marks for a few days. It just felt so good--and you couldn't bring yourself to care.
Bucky's hips suddenly slowed to a stop and you angled your head back to check on him. Steve was still behind Bucky and you quickly realized what was happening.
"You okay with this, sweet boy?" Steve asked lowly.
"Please, sir--I want your cock."
Steve smirked and a deep growling sound emanated from his chest. "I thought you might, baby. You always want my cock."
"Yes, sir--it's always so good."
Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky's shoulder as he slowly slid into him. "That's because you're always so good for me."
Bucky's head dropped as Steve filled him, the tip of his cock pressing firmly against his prostate. Steve gave him a moment to get comfortable before slowly pulling out and thrusting in again.
Bucky's sweet gasps met your ears and your pussy fluttered around him. You always loved his sounds--he wasn't much of a talker in bed, but he practically sang with all those noises.
"You always take my cock like you were made for it," Steve growled. "You were, weren't you? Fuckin' made to take me."
"Yes, sir," he keened, hips stuttering forward into you with every thrust from Steve.
"Fuck, baby--wish you could see from my angle." You knew Steve was talking to you without him specifying. "Seeing you all bent over for Buck and taking his cock so well--" he groaned loudly. "And then watching my cock disappear in Bucky's perfect ass? Jesus Christ, I could come at the sight alone."
Both you and Bucky moaned loudly. You pressed back more firmly into Bucky, forcing him deeper into you with each thrust. He let out a choked sob, and you knew he was so close to reaching his limit.
"Doin' so well for me, sweet boy," Steve murmured. "I'm so fucking close--you close baby girl?"
You whined desperately, fingers already rubbing against your clit just the way you liked. "Yes," you breathed.
"Okay, pretty boy--when she comes, I'm gonna fill you up, okay? Then you can come--but don't you dare come before either of us."
Bucky whimpered and Steve slowed his pace, which only made him whine louder.
"Need you to use your words, sweetheart."
"I understand, sir."
Steve picked his pace back up, once more forcing Bucky even deeper into you. Your legs had begun to shake and you were on the brink of another blinding orgasm. You kept your head turned back, allowing you to see both of your men as your orgasm slammed into you. You screamed both of their names as you came, body shaking and spasming with the force.
"Holy fuck," Steve grunted, now chasing his own high. "Gonna come for you, Buck--gonna fill this perfect ass."
Bucky moaned wantonly, hips desperately slamming forward with each of Steve's thrusts. You could see the strain in Bucky's face, even with your hazy gaze.
"Shit, shit, shitshitshit--Bucky! Fuck!" Steve came with a loud groan, spilling his seed into Bucky with several stuttered thrusts.
Bucky didn't even bother asking for permission--he didn't care if he got in trouble at this point. Steve had told him he could come after the two of you and he wasn't gonna waste another second.
He slammed into you so hard you had to bite back a scream. "Buck!"
Your voice got his attention and he fixed his gaze on you, dark eyes wild with need.
"Fill me up, baby."
His grip on your hips tightened and you tried to keep the wince from your face. He held your gaze, mouth open and panting as he thrust into you. When he came, he screamed your name, followed by Steve's, the sound coming out broken and hoarse. His thrusts continued with no rhythm as he emptied his massive load deep inside you. He came more than you'd ever seen him come before, and you could feel his cum dripping out of you and onto the sheets.
After what felt like an eternity, Bucky finally pulled out and collapsed beside you. Your legs were too weak to hold you up without his steady grip, so you collapsed along with him, right into his cum that had pooled beneath you.
Steve was laying on the end of the bed, breathing just as hard as you and Bucky. He was the first to recover, around 10 minutes later. He moved slowly as he got off the bed, coming first to check on you.
"Hey, baby--you okay?"
"Mhmm," you hummed. "Bucky?"
Steve looked to Bucky whose chest was still heaving. He gave Steve a thumbs up, earning a chuckle from both of you.
"How 'bout I draw us a nice hot bath? Does that sound good?"
You hummed again in response and Bucky just grunted--both of you utterly unable to voice words properly yet.
Steve merely chuckled and shook his head. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, then Bucky's, before disappearing into the bathroom. Five minutes later, he came back out. "Bath's ready."
"Can't move," you mumbled.
Steve huffed a soft laugh. "I didn't think you could, baby." He gently scooped you up and carried you to the bathroom. He helped you climb into the tub, watching carefully as you lowered yourself in. "I'll be right back, okay? Don't move."
"How 'bout you, handsome?" Steve asked gently. "Think you can walk?"
Bucky pulled himself up and started to stand, but his knees buckled almost immediately. Steve reached out and caught him easily, a soft chuckle breaking free as he kissed his husband's cheek.
"I've got you, sweetheart."
You smiled softly as you watched Steve half-carry Bucky into the bathroom. Just like he had with you, he helped Bucky climb into the tub. Once he was settled, Steve turned his attention to you. "Are you awake enough to bathe without drowning?"
You rolled your eyes. "I'm fine, Stevie. I won't drown."
Steve looked at Bucky, eyes filled with worry, but he knew Bucky was simply too big to sink under the water.
"Alright, baby. I'm gonna take a quick shower. You two take your time."
"You're not gonna join us?" you pouted.
"Somebody's gotta change the sheets, honey--and it's definitely not gonna be either of you." He leaned down and gave you a sweet kiss. He then placed one on Bucky's lips, to which the brunette barely responded. "Make sure he gets clean."
You chuckled. "I've got him, Stevie."
Steve gave you both one last affectionate look before entering the walk-in shower and cleaning himself off. By the time he was done with his shower, you'd managed to clean yourself, but Bucky had barely moved.
"Doing okay, you two?"
"We're alright, Steve," you assured him. "Just gonna get Buck cleaned up."
Steve smiled warmly and left the bathroom clad in a towel. You heard the sounds of him stripping the bed and you moved to get closer to Bucky.
"Baby? You still with me?"
Bucky's eyes opened and he gave you a small smile. "Doll."
"I'm right here."
His eyes were still a little hazy, and you knew he was still in subspace. You were gentle as you cleaned his body, paying extra care to his extremely sensitive cock.
As you worked, you murmured sweet words of praise and affection to your husband, making sure he knew how loved he was. When you'd finished cleaning him up, his eyes had cleared and he was looking at you with so much love it made your chest ache.
"Hi there, handsome."
"Hey, doll. Thanks for taking care of me."
You smiled. "That's what I'm here for. How're you feeling?"
"I feel fucking incredible."
You laughed. "You were incredible, so I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."
He pulled you in for a kiss, this one much deeper than he'd been capable of earlier. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"
"You might have mentioned it once or twice," you teased.
"Well I don't want you to ever forget it. I love you so much."
Your smile softened as you held his gaze. "I know baby--I love you too." You kissed him again before pulling back. "C'mon--let's get out of this tub and get you to bed."
"Aren't I supposed to be taking care of you?"
"I think I'm the one that's supposed to be taking care of both of you," Steve chimed in from the doorway. He walked in and held his hand out for you to take. He helped you out of the tub and wrapped you in a towel.
"Fresh sheets are on the bed and I laid out your favorite pajamas," he told you as he kissed your forehead.
"I love you, Steve. You take such good care of us."
He smiled, overwhelming pride filling his chest. "It's my honor, my love. Now get to bed. You need to rest."
You giggled as you left the bathroom, leaving the two men alone together.
"And you? How're you feeling?" Steve asked gently, reaching for Bucky's hand.
"I'm good, Stevie--really damn good."
Steve smiled. "Good. Did you enjoy yourself?"
"You have no idea how much."
Steve helped Bucky climb out of the tub and handed him a towel. He watched his husband quietly for a long moment. "You know I love you, right?"
Bucky turned to look at him, surprise etched onto his face. "Of course I know that--I love you too. Don't ever question that."
Steve's expression softened into one of pure affection. "I was just making sure--I know I focused a lot on (Y/N/N) tonight and I don't want you to feel left out."
Bucky smiled and stepped forward, pulling the blonde in for a hug. "I felt incredibly loved every moment. I always do."
Steve pulled away just far enough to see Bucky's face. He pulled him back in for a kiss, pouring all his love into the action.
"Hey you two lovebirds," you called from the bedroom. "Come to bed--I'm tired and it's lonely without you."
Both men laughed and headed back into the bedroom. They crawled into bed on either side of you, reminding you just how wonderful it was to have them both.
The boys must have been thinking the exact same thing, because all three of you whispered, "I love you" at the same time. You burst into laughter and they joined in.
Nothing could be more obvious to anyone who dared pay attention--the three of you loved each other more deeply than most people could ever dream.
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)
tip jar | masterlist
“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
After a short business trip that took Steve away, you finally have your two boys home again.
Themes/Warnings: Smut, lots of it.
A/N: This is a series where each fic can be read as a oneshot as well as in any order, despite being numbered. Fics that have a second part will be marked accordingly.
MASTERLIST
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Your fingers grasped at the dark locks of hair between your legs. Simultaneously pulling the head away and pushing yourself closer to the delicious feeling at your center. A thumb rubbed you harshly and you came with a cry. Back arched and head thrown back in pleasure as you were worked through your orgasm.
With a last swipe of his tongue, Bucky stood and undid his belt. He didn't bother pushing his jeans down all the way as he took his hard cock out and sunk into your core.
"Fuck!" You cried as Bucky began thrusting in and out of you. Your dress was pooled at your hips, Bucky laying claim to your breasts with wet kisses.
"Gonna mark you all up," Bucky breathed as he fucked you. "Make sure our boy knows what you were doing while he was gone, yeah."
"More," you begged as you wrapped your legs around Bucky's waist. His left hand slid down to your ass and pulled you further in just as he gave a hard thrust. You swore you could feel him rearranging your insides. "So good." You breathed.
"Gonna make sure he tastes me when he eats you out tonight." Bucky taunted.
"Oh fuck!" You cried. Bucky's dirty talk always did things to you during sex. This afternoon he had some particularly slutty things to say.
"Gonna come on my cock?" He asked with a smirk. His blue eyes bore into you. Watching every bit of pleasure show up on your face.
"Yes!" You admitted, already feeling your legs tense up.
"Come on, baby. Come for me again." Bucky said as his thrusts grew sloppy. You knew he was close, and as that invisible tether in you pulled tighter, you knew you were right there with him.
"Oh my god." You moaned as that tether finally snapped. Your legs shook and your eyes closed. Bucky thrust a few more times before you felt him come inside of you. His cock pulsed with each spurt of come he shot into you.
"Fucking perfect," Bucky murmured as he pulled out of you. You hummed your acknowledgment, your pleasure clouded brain not coming up with the words to speak. "Try to keep that in till Stevie gets home." Bucky coached as he fixed your underwear over your leaking core.
"If you want Stevie to taste you so badly, just fuck his throat when he gets home." You said only half jokingly.
Bucky squeezed your hips tightly before taking a step back, his mouth curled into a full smile and he tucked himself back into his pants. "Such a dirty girl."
You kissed him briefly before pulling away and adjusting your dress. "You love it."
"I do," Bucky admitted before turning around and washing up at the kitchen sink. "Now go rest before our boy gets home."
You hopped off the kitchen island. "I'll lay out in the sun for a bit," you said as you made way to the patio door.
You were outside on the balcony when Steve came home. Bucky was at the stove, cooking dinner. As soon as you heard them speaking, you hopped off the lounger and slid back in through the open patio door. "Steve!" You cried as you shot yourself into his open arms.
"Hey baby," Steve breathed as he held you. He breathed in your scent. A combination of your shampoo and Bucky's cologne. "How's my favourite girl doing?"
"Better now that you're back," you answered, which earned a scoff from Bucky.
"What, did I not satisfy you enough?"
You waved your boyfriend off. "You know I'm always happiest when I'm with the both of you."
Steve gave you a soft kiss. "I know, darling girl."
"Go sit," Bucky ordered as he turned the stove off. "Dinner's almost ready."
"Sir, yes, sir," you giggled as you left the kitchen, hand in hand with Steve. "How was work?" You asked as you sat across from Steve at your dinner table.
"Not great, but I got some deals done." Steve answered.
"So you'll stay home for a while?" You asked.
"Yeah baby, we'll make sure that the next few deals are done in our area of town. Or Bucky will go, I know you must be sick of him by now."
"Hey!" Bucky yelled as you laughed at your boyfriend's antics. "Just for that," Bucky said as he sat a hot bowl of pasta down in front of you. "You'll be served last."
"Wow," Steve gasped, a hand thrown across his chest in mock dramatics. "After all I do for us."
"Suck it," Bucky shot back as he brought out the last serving for Steve.
"I was planning to," Steve answered with a wicked grin. "Before you got so rude."
Bucky grinned like the cat that got the mouse. No one else said anything as you all dug into your dinner. Bucky had made Steve's favourite dish for his return back. He hadn't been gone for long, less than a week, but you all hated any long distance from each other. You especially. You were prone to worrying about your boys' well-being when one of them was gone. With their dangerous line of work, one deal gone wrong could be the end of a life. After a few near-misses on their end and many panic attacks on yours, the boys worked out a system to almost always guarantee they were never gone at the same time. You found that when you had one of them by your side, the stress and anxiety you felt of the others' departure was significantly reduced.
"I'll just be a moment," Bucky said as he stood from the dining room table, pointing a finger at the cellphone ringing in his large hand.
You watched as Bucky walked out onto the balcony before Steve was reaching across the table and giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "He might be a bit, baby." Steve told you. You pouted as you began cleaning up the dishes. You only made it as far as the kitchen sink before Steve stopped you. "I'll do that after, right now I need to spend some time with you."
If you couldn't tell by the timber of your boyfriend's voice what he had in mind, then the slight bulge in his pants gave it away. "Lead the way, handsome." You answered with a coy smile.
Steve had you flat on the bed in record time. His muscled arms caging you in as he leaned above you. His kisses always started soft, small pepperings along your shoulder, cheek, and neck. They quickly grew heated as your hands tangled in his hair. "Missed you so much," Steve rasped.
"'M missed you too, I don't like it when you're gone."
"Don't worry," Steve answered as he slid your dress up and off your body. "I won't be goin' anywhere for a while, baby."
"Good," was all you said before helping Steve she'd his clothing.
He groaned as he got between your legs, thumb rubbing your clit gently as he took long, slow licks of your center. "Bucky fucked you, didn't he?" Steve asked.
"Right before you got home," Bucky answered from the doorway. His shirt was off and his pants were undone, his cock in his hand. He must have been there for a while, but neither you nor Steve had realized.
"Gonna watch me fuck our girl?" Steve asked without looking away from you. The heat in your core only grew with each filthy word out of his mouth.
"You bet," Bucky answered. He gave a swat to Steve's ass as he walked by before settling in the armchair across the room, his cock once again in his hand.
Steve threw his clothes off as both Bucky and you watched. Naked, Steve leaned back between your thighs and licked along your core.
"Fuck!" You cried as you drove your hips up, further into his mouth.
Steve threw an arm down across your hips, holding you down. "Relax, baby."
"I am!" You moaned. "So, so relaxed." Steve chuckled but didn't say anything more, instead focusing his attention on your sex.
Every once in a while, through a haze of pleasure, you'd look across the room at Bucky. He was rubbing himself slowly, every time, never getting faster. It wasn't until Steve sunk his cock into you that Bucky began moving his hand faster up and down his cock.
"Still so fucking tight," Steve gasped. You knew Bucky no doubt had a quip to that, something about stretching you out, but if he said it, you didn't hear. Not over the blood rushing in your ears and the slap of skin on skin.
"Gonna come!" You warned.
"Fuck," Steve moaned. "Me too, baby."
Nearly together, you Steve and Bucky reached your climax. Bucky came all over his chest and stomach. Steve stilled as he filled you with his seed.
"Good god," you whispered to no one in particular. Bucky got up and cleaned himself off in the bathroom, coming back and helping wipe down you and Steve.
"Come to bed Bucky, I wanna sleep with my people."
Bucky chuckled as he climbed into bed with the two of you. "I love you two," he said softly.
"Love you, Buck," you and Steve answered in unison.
Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.
Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, language, shitty boyfriend, the reader doesn’t take shit from no one, tension, sexy mobsters, slow burn (kinda), talk about sex, horny mobsters, possessive mobsters
A/N: This is a shorter, interlude chapter. I wanted to go straight for the smut but decided against it because...I'm a tease :)
Indecent Proposal (2)
Indecent Proposal masterlist
In your youth, when you made a scrapbook for your future self, you never imagined ending up despising someone so much that you wished they were dead. It wasn’t in your plans that you end up between two mafia bosses who are about to kill your boyfriend.
“Do you want us to do it fast or slow?” Bucky nuzzles your cheek. He purrs your name, his intentions clear. “Name it, and we will do it.”
“I want him out of my life,” you sniff, and drop your gaze, “but…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to be responsible for his death. I can’t live knowing you killed him because of me.”
“Scott Lang will never come back to this town, and you’ll never hear from him,” Steve casually says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to make people disappear. “If you don’t want us to kill him, he’ll live.”
You look away when Steve drags your now ex-boyfriend out of the room. Scott screams your name, begging you to take your words back. You choke out a sob but don’t stop the mobster. Scott sold you to the mobsters without a second thought.
“He’ll never bug you again.”
“I don’t want him dead,” you lift your gaze to look at Bucky. “For tonight, I want to go home and…” You shake your head. “I can’t just…this is not how this will go. If you want me, you have to earn it. I’m not going to be a breeder.”
“You’re a lady after all,” you can hear the smirk in Bucky’s voice. It’s hard to ignore his piercing blue eyes, and the darkness in them. “I understand that you want to get to know us better before you go on your knees for me.”
You gasp at his crudeness. No man ever talked to you like this. “Maybe I want you to go on your knees for me first. I like me who can lick my pussy good.”
He flashes you a smirk and gives you a wink. You know better than falling for his charms and playfulness. Bucky is still one of the men holding your life in his hands.
“Aw, baby doll. Stevie and I can eat cunt for hours. If you are a good girl,” he says and cups your face with his metal hand, making you gasp, “I’ll let you ride my face one day.”
“Did you get started without me?” Steve walks back inside the room, as you try to find your voice. These men truly know how to make a woman nervous. “Just you know, my beard and face make a perfect throne for you, doll.”
“Stevie, she wants to get to know us before we go down and dirty,” Bucky whispers as runs his thumb over your cheek. The cool metal against your skin is a stark contrast to his fiery gaze. “Do we want to give her the chance to get to know us or do we want to have our way with her right here and now?”
“We are gentlemen, my love,” Steve runs his hand over Bucky’s back, making the mobster shudder. “Maybe she likes to watch.” The blonde flashes you a smile. “What do you say? Do you want to watch me taking Bucky apart? He makes the most beautiful noises for me.”
“I—” You lick your dry lips. This must be a dream. The most beautiful men you ever saw fight for your attention and want to breed you. Even though you have to admit, that they are both scary as shit you can’t help but feel attracted to these men.
“Stevie don’t overwhelm her,” Bucky tuts. He brings you into his arms, shamelessly roaming your body with his hands. “Hmm…so soft and warm. I will love marking your body as mine.”
“Ours,” the blonde corrects. “We can’t let you go home, doll. You’ll only overthink things. How about you sleep in our guestroom? I promise nothing you don’t want will happen.”
You take a deep breath to calm your nerves. If you don’t stand up for yourself tonight, they will rule your life completely. “No,” you confidently say. “I will go home and think about everything happening tonight in the morning.”
“Doll,” Steve warns.
“You are allowed to drive me home, though,” you flash Steve a smile. “Gentlemen always make sure that their date comes home safely. Right?”
“Steve,” Bucky looks at his husband. Steve’s cheek twitches, just like his hands. He had other plans and now you want to go home. “It’s a great opportunity to have a look at her home. We can check on security and stuff.”
“Hmm…no good.” Steve pokes your window with his finger. “I could break into this death trap within two minutes or less.”
“Steve,” Bucky tries to stop his husband from throwing you over his shoulder to run away with you. For months, they have been watching you. Now that they finally got you in their clutches, Steve cannot wait to make you theirs completely. “Be nice.”
“Uh-the landlord just repaired the window, and I got a new lock,” you point out. The men are not convinced. Your small apartment cannot compare with their mansion, you know that. But watching them inspect your home makes you feel uneasy. “I know it’s not much, but it’s mine.”
“No, no, doll,” Steve turns his attention toward you, and away from the lock. “It’s a nice apartment. We know Scott didn’t help you pay for shit.”
“While you are here, we should talk about a few rules,” you try to sound confident. “No talking about Scott. Not now, not ever.”
“Noted, doll,” Bucky calls from inside your bedroom. He got bold and opened your drawer to look at your underwear. “Hmm…silk, cotton…oh…woo-hoo…”
“Hey! That’s…” You gasp as Bucky twirls an open-back lace panty around his finger. “I found the naughty stuff, Stevie. She will look so good wearing these only for us. I bet,” he licks his sinful lips as he throws the panties at his husband, “she’ll look even better wearing these while full of cock.”
“Buck, relax,” Steve laughs as he can see the prominent erection strain against Bucky’s pants. “Y/N wants to take things slow.”
“I want to know if I’m only going to be a body you can use or part of your life. If you want me to carry your child, give me more than dick…”
Mafia!Stucky x Little!Reader (They/Them pronouns used)
Warnings - Sad reader, crying, eating of goldfish, mentions of 'stalking', just the boys being fluffy
Notes - IDK if I like this one, it's gone through a few re-writes, but I'm putting off other writting and my ADHD took that as a cue to get back on this instead, so I hope you enjoy!
SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW
+ + + + + +
“Boss!” A loud voice boomed, Steve and Bucky both waking up with a start, their necks strained. “Boss!” The voice called again, though this time closer. “Boss!”
“Wha’s going on?” Y/n mumbled, sitting up slightly.
“I don’t know yet, Little Dove.” Bucky turned to them, Steve standing up to address whoever woke them.
“Boss!”
“Peter! Do not repeat yourself.” Steve said sternly as he opened the bedroom’s door, a weary Peter on the other side. “Have you ever heard of a phone call?”
“I have.” He said timidly. “Which is why I called you twenty three times before barging in.” His words got more confident as he continued.
“Right.” Steve sighed, his phone in his room, Bucky’s too. “Okay. Okay, what’s going on then?” Steve asked, his hands whipping down his face, trying to get rid of his tired expression.
“It’s about, about, you know.” Peter tried to keep the conversation light in front of Y/n.
“No Pete, we don’t know.” Bucky chimed in, turning the corner, Y/n in hand.
“It’s about R U M L O W.” He spelled the name out.
“Oh! R U M L O W that’s how you spell our last name woop woop!” Y/n sang a little jingle and did a little shimmy, Bucky smiling at them, as Steve looked to Pete with anger in his eyes.
“Very good little dove.” Bucky cooed, swinging their hand a little.
“Why don’t we take this to an office?” Steve asked Peter, his arm gesturing for them to leave the room, Y/n frowning as she saw the two begin to leave.
“Wai’ Steve!” Y/n called out unexpectedly. “Don’ wan’ you t’leave me!” They broke free of Bucky’s grasp, rushing to Steve instead.
“We have to go talk business, My Dove.” He softly smiled, bending down slightly to give them a forehead kiss.
“Righ’.” They frowned and let go of him, walking back to bed without another word.
Bucky and Steve both watched confused, Y/n’s shoulders curled in slightly, yet no crying or protesting in sight. “We’ll meet you in my office, Pete.” Bucky cut in. “Close the door Steve.” He said as the boy walked away, the two men realized that something was definitely wrong. “Dove?” Bucky questioned, him and steve both standing in the archway, Y/n curled up in bed, a stuffie in hand.
“Is th’ business over?” They asked hopefully, perking up slightly.
“Not yet.”
“‘kay, I promise I’ll wait really good.” Y/n nodded their head, curling up even tighter.
“You don’t have to stay in bed, Dove.” Bucky shook his head, his heart breaking at the sight in front of him, something that seemed to happen too often.
“Yes I do.” They said, confusion lacing their words. “‘Babies stay in bed while the big boys talk’” They recited in a monotone voice.
“Buck, I can’t.” Steve whispered, unable to stay calm, Bucky nodding his head knowingly, taking control of the situation instead of it being a joint effort.
“I didn’t think you would want to sit in a business meeting, Dovey.” Bucky admitted. “We don’t have any toys in our offices yet.”
“I don’ wan’ toys, jus’ wan’ yous.” Y/n teared up. “‘m jus’ scared.” A sob broke through. “I don’ know the house, or anyone here, an’ I jus’ ‘m really scared, and I wan’ go home.”
Steve couldn’t help himself, he climbed into Y/n’s bed and scooped them up sitting them in his lap, their head in his neck as tears fell down their cheeks, little hiccups could be heard. “You can’t go home, Little Dove, It’s not safe.” Steve said, his words soft and comforting. “Why don’t you sit with us in our meeting? And then after breakfast we can go to that little toy store you used to pass.” He offered, knowing that maybe adding some more of their past life into their day to day could help the sudden transition.
“Really?” They pulled back, whipping their tears with their hands, hope splashed across their face.
“Pinky promise.” Steve smiled, the two sealing the deal. “But let’s find you a sweater, it’s cold upstairs.” He stood up, Y/n in his arms.
“‘Buck, I can’t’” Bucky teased under his breath as the two walked past him.
+
The sight was yet again one that the Mafia bosses usually wouldn’t have been found in before today, Y/n sat on Steve’s lap, green sippy cup in hand, Bucky next to them holding a bag of goldfish, handing a few to Y/n here and there, and sneaking a few for himself. “Hi Peter!” Y/n whispered, waving to the familiar face.
“Hi.” He whispered back, already loving the addition to the group.
“Pete.” Steve’s voice was loud, everyone in the room listening intently the moment he spoke. “What’s going on?”
“Right, right.” Pete was fidgeting slightly, hating being the one to break the news. “Well, Mr.R was seen on the property’s cameras last night.”
“What?” Bucky sat up straight, Y/n looking to him, worry in their eyes at his sudden moves, though the conversation was going straight over their head.
“He was seen taking pictures of both the front, and back of the house.” Sam finally cut in, handing a few photos to Bucky, who showed them to Steve, the man’s hand covering Y/n’s eyes as he looked them over, Y/n’s giggle at least lightning the mood. “We’ve upped the security, both inside, and outside the house, plus there are extra men posted in our territory, we made sure to call anyone we could to keep.” He cleared his throat. “To keep the bird safe.” His words hiding the true meaning. ‘To keep your new found little, who was and is in need of a safe place to live, unharmed from their brother.’
“Thank you, Sam.” Steve nodded, knowing he was right to appoint Sam as head of security, his skills clearly proven to be efficient and helpful, even though they are the result of a hiccup.
“I suggest you three go up to the lake house, no one knows where it is, you can let the bird settle in without a bunch of our men watching their every move.” Sam added, his words quiet knowing that the suggestion was the opposite of what Steve and Bucky wanted. Dove was supposed to be able to grow comfortable with them in their forever home, with the newly made bedroom, surrounded by every day life, and yet a bump in the road made all of those things almost impossible.
“Thanks Sam.” Bucky said clearly agitated.
“Anything else, Pete?” Steve asked, hoping to change the subject to something more hopeful, and to stop the insanely petty staring contest both Bucky and Sam were participating in.
“Nope, nothing else.” Peter smiled, though he hoped to be allowed to go soon, the conversation stressful and boring.
“Everyone’s dismissed.” Bucky said in return, a handful of goldfish outstretched to Y/n, them picking a few goldfish up, waving as everyone left the room. “How are you feeling, Little Dove?”
“‘m fine.” They answered, looking back and forth at the two men. “We go to the toys now?”
Steve sighed, looking to Bucky before speaking. “We’ve got to eat breakfast now.” He convinced himself it wasn’t a lie, he was just withholding the truth a little.
“We did!” Y/n giggled, holding their hand up to Steve, a few goldfish left.
“Crackers aren’t breakfast!” Bucky said in a dramatically silly tone, Y/n placing their hand on his head as they nodded.
“Yes, i’s breakfast!”
“We’re going to have some waffles, Dove.” Steve interrupted, a smile plastered on his face at the image, two people he loved being silly with one another, something he would get to see for the rest of his life.
“Wha’s a waffle?” They asked, puppy eyes out, mouth open in excitement.
“It’s like a pancake with little walls for your syrup.” Bucky explained.
“What’s a pancake then?”
“Dove.” Steve said in a more authoritative tone, wishing the silliness away.
“What?” They asked. “I don’, why’s you mad?” They asked, hands in their lap fumbling with their fingers.
“Dove, look at me.” Bucky asked. “Have you ever had a pancake?” He spoke with a genuine tone, Y/n shaking their head ‘no’ in response. “Okay, that’s okay.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, his chest suddenly heavy, realizing that maybe his Dove really did think crackers were for breakfast. “I think you’ll really like them.” Bucky picked Y/n up from Steve’s arms.
“I’ll be down in a second, I have some things I need to do.” Steve was clearly seething, about to do something regarding someone all three of them knew, Y/n all too well.
“Don’t do anything rash, Steve, just take a few breaths.” Bucky tried to sooth him, rubbing circles on Y/n’s back to keep them calm too.
“I should have been rash months ago, Buck, I can’t just sit here and pretend like this guy hasn’t ruined people's lives.” Steve was on his phone, no doubt calling in backup for whatever plan he had coming.
“Does Steve’s rash hurt bad?” Y/n whispered to Bucky, him smiling at their words, reveling in the softness they exuded, and the pure kindness that radiated off of them.
“It does, Dovey, but he’s going to fix it.” He walked out of the office, Y/n snuggling closer.
Hey loves! Can you possibly do a Head cannon with mob stucky and reader? How would they be when the reader is sick?
Hey love! So....answering this a year later....ugh, trust me I'm disgusted with myself. I hope you're still around to read this, and if you are, I thank you for sticking with me while I went through it this past year. I hope you enjoy <3
So with Mafia Stucky and Little Reader, when you're sick, there is a very calculated plan to get you better.
The trouble is, you're terrified of doctors after all those mean doctors held you captive before your Mafia Daddies could rescue you. You still trembled at the sight of a white lab coat, even after all this time.
So at the first sign of a sniffle or a sore throat, they call in their "guy"
You know him as Mr. Bruce, the really nice man in the purple silk shirt who tells you really silly jokes and talks to you sometimes when you're feeling icky
They know him as Dr. Banner, their on call physician who has been threatened within an inch of his life to not tell you that he's a doctor
Banner has no problem with this arrangement. He enjoys working for Steve and Bucky, as his...issues with rage, let's say....have gotten him in trouble in other locations, and Stucky has given him a full time job with incredible benefits where he still can practice medicine and science.
So what if the majority of his work is now stitches and tending to bullet wounds? He's still helping people, right?
And he genuinely loves you. He was one of the ones to help Steve and Bucky "get you out" of your kidnapped situation, and he was the one quietly monitoring your health as you came out of the haze that the drugs had put you in. He spent a lot of time caring for you and came to see you as a baby sister of sorts. He was extremely protective and fond of you.
Bruce has gotten extremely good at being able to just talk to you and diagnose what the problem is, because you trust him enough to be honest with him about how you're feeling
If there's an occasion where he needs a saliva sample, he's designed special lollipops that taste delicious- AND melt quickly. He simply pockets the stick when you're done and you have no idea.
If he needs a blood sample, that's a bit more complicated. That's when the strawberry milk comes out and you take a nice nap. You'll wake up later to find a little itchy spot on your arm, but that's really about it.
Once Bruce has diagnosed you, he'll quietly talk through a game plan with one of your Daddies while the other one is cuddling and cradling you in the other room.
You don't have any big issues with taking medicine- after all, your daddies are giving it to you and they always know what they're doing, so you don't question it.
You hate cough syrup with a fiery passion. More than once you've straight up refused to take it or spat it back out repeatedly, resulting in a spanking after you get better, but since Bruce figured out a way to mask the taste in a candy, it's not nearly as much of a battle as it used to be.
Mostly, you just crave cuddles and attention. And Steve and Bucky are more than happy to give it to you.
Their team knows just how sick you are by how Stucky rearranges their schedules. If you have a cold, they will NOT get them at the same time until you're better. If you have something a little rougher, like a stomach flu, don't expect to see either of them until you're back on your feet. If it's something like pneumonia, it's about to become everyone's only problem for the foreseeable future. They will ALL be on call twenty four seven. God help them if they think any differently.
Steve likes to carry you around everywhere, even if it's just from the bed to the bathroom. He doesn't want you wasting a bit of energy on something as trivial as walking- it should all go towards you getting better.
Half of his pockets are loaded with your medication, and the other half are full of little toys and expensive trinkets and sparkly jewelry to reward you for being good and staying down and taking your medicine.
Bucky anticipates your every need before it even happens. You shiver once, and he's already wrapped a blanket around you. Your face looks a bit flushed, and he's gently pressing a cool washcloth to your forehead, murmuring about what a good girl you are. He's holding up a tissue to your nose before you even realize you have to sneeze.
They will let you have unlimited screen time, watching all your favorite movies and TV shows with you- as long as they've approved them, of course.
You also get to eat pretty much anything you want (unless it's a stomach illness), since you really don't want to eat when you don't feel well. They'll let you have almost anything to ensure that you're still eating enough to get better.
Every morning, they carry you to another new room in the mansion, with clean fresh sheets and new things to do, since you get very bored very quickly, especially after a whole day in bed. Hell, what else are they gonna do with the twenty guest rooms in the house? The cleaning crew then sanitizes the previous room in a whirl, just in case you decide you want to go back in there.
Steve and Bucky cuddle you and constantly tell you what a good girl you are, and how proud they are to be your daddies, and just how much better their lives are now because you're in them.
And honestly? That heals you faster than anything else.
