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natrogersfics · 4 months

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So It Goes... - A Romanogers Oneshot

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3 Never compromise your client. If there was ever a golden rule in private security that should not be bent, it’s this one. When it comes to the person you’re assigned to serve and protect, you are not to touch. You are not to get too close. And you are definitely not to wonder what her cherry-lacquered lips taste like.

Those are the rules, and the point of rules is to follow them. It’s a value that was instilled in Steve during his time in the Army, and it’s this same value he’s founded his company upon – a company he’s not only proud of, but also one that’s responsible for the livelihoods of dozens of employees. If only for that reason alone, he knows that he must remain steadfast. A professional.

As he enters the elevator, though, every reason he’s just ruminated on becomes that much more difficult to remember. Next to him, Natasha stands silently, looking every bit the sight that she is in a black silk dress and a crisp white coat draped over her shoulders. The doors whizz shut, and as the car begins to ascend to her penthouse, the familiar scent of her lavender perfume fills his senses, and he has to clench both his hands into fists to fight off every urge he has to reach out to her.

Natasha Romanoff is his job. Ensuring she’s safe and that she remains safe is his mission, and because of that, he can’t be thinking of her this way. And, more saliently, he can’t take any of the events this evening personally.

Only problem is, everything about this job has felt personal from the outset. He couldn’t explain it, but from the moment her parents had approached him, seeking his company’s services to protect their daughter from the stalker who had already evaded security once, deftly slipping past them to hold Natasha at knifepoint in the very elevator bank they were just standing in, all he’s ever thought about is never again. Never again would someone get the opportunity to harm her. Not if he had anything to do about it.

Then he met her. Just as he had done for every new client, he had done his research. As one of the children adopted by Alexei and Melina Shostakov, she was one of the heirs to Red Guardian Realty, the largest real estate conglomerate in the country. It didn’t come as a surprise that she had attended the most prestigious schools, graduating top of her class at university and adding accomplished ballerina on top of an already impressive resume. In his experience, when it came to dealing with society’s upper echelon, that merely came with the territory. What did catch his attention, though, was the fact that he couldn’t find much else. Unlike the rest of her siblings whose faces were plastered across the tabloids every week, details about Natasha’s personal life remained elusive. He had seen pictures of her, of course, mostly next to her parents at official events, but none of those quite did her justice – none of them quite capturing how captivating her smile actually is or how her presence could command the attention of an entire room despite her petite frame. And that’s not to mention her eyes, verdant as the forest in the Summer and bright as day. He wishes he could say it was something as rudimentary as instant attraction, but even that didn’t feel encompassing enough to describe the need he felt to protect her the second his eyes met hers.

And it’s what he’s done for the last three hundred and eighty-nine days since. For more than a year, he’s been by her side, getting to know her. Keeping her out of harm’s way. Uncovering the various layers of Natasha Romanoff – the woman, who despite growing up in extreme privilege and largesse, has never treated anyone as anything but her equal. Who would go out of her way in a heartbeat to take care of those she cared about.

The more he got to know her, the more personal his mission became. And as much as he hates to admit it, she’s become more than just his job. At the very least, he had come to see her as a friend. A confidant. He convinces himself that that’s why the events of tonight have felt so personal, the ire from what he had seen unfold slowly but surely clawing its way under his skin. That’s the thing about being by Natasha’s side as often as he is. It’s like getting a front row seat to everything that happens to her. Sometimes it’s as joyous as the children at the orphanage she frequents running into her arms the second she drops by for a visit. Other times, like tonight, it’s watching the unfair way she’s treated, and hearing the vile things spewed her way.

His thoughts are interrupted by a touch as light as a feather. He stills, looking forward at the reflection on the brushed metals doors to see that Natasha’s stepped closer to him, her fingers working to unclench his fist.

“Natasha,” he whispers, but whether it’s in warning or relief, he’s unsure. Luckily, he doesn’t have to linger on the question for too long as the elevator dings, signaling their arrival on her floor. He gestures to the doors as they slide open. “After you.”

This isn’t her. The thought rushes through Natasha as she leads Steve down the hall and to her suite. If there is one thing she didn’t do, it’s get involved with the people on her payroll. And that’s what Steve Rogers is – a person paid to keep her safe.

If only that were the whole truth.

In reality, he’s also the person she’s spent the most time with in the last year, his ever looming presence giving her the peace of mind she’s had to go without for longer than she cares to admit. Gone were the days of her looking over her shoulder, of her stomach feeling unsettled over the idea that there were unwanted eyes on her. Not that the scrutiny ever went away, of course. For as long as she can recall, that’s been part of her life. The unintended consequence of her privilege. Now, though, she could rest easy knowing that she also had Steve’s eyes, his sharp, watchful gaze looking out for her.

But it’s not only Steve’s presence that’s allowed her to revel in safety. She was still reeling from her brush with her stalker when her parents had hired Steve, and even with him shadowing her, she knew that if she was ever going to live without fear ever again, she needed to learn to defend herself. To never feel the helplessness she felt that night as that mad man pressed a blade to her skin. Her parents were less than thrilled with the idea (let Steve do his job, her mother had insisted), but much to her surprise, Steve was very much all in. And so began their weekly ritual. Every Wednesday after work, Steve would train her to fight, teaching her all the ways she could protect herself.

If she had to think of the moment she felt her relationship with Steve begin to shift, it was here. Maybe it was the late hour or the exhaustion from the day, but she found that Steve was more willing to let his guard down after those sessions. It’s as they were sitting on the mats, trying to catch their breath between sets at the gym, that she learned all the details about him that she’s grown to admire, like how big an influence his father was in his choice to join the Army. How much he missed his mom. What a little shit he could be with a quip.

Before she really knew it, Steve had become more than just her bodyguard. He had become her sounding board, and she trusted him implicitly – which was more than she could say about some people she called family.

Families were complicated, but hers was a little more so. Their parents had loved them fiercely, of that there was no doubt. But she and her siblings were all cut from different cloths, and after that fateful car crash that had suddenly taken their parents, the very glue that held them together, that couldn’t be more apparent. Those differences were on full display tonight at the first board meeting since their parents’ passing. Weeks of anticipation had ended with the board announcing that they had selected her to be the next CEO, her father’s successor. Her sisters were practically apathetic – Yelena shrugged, and while Antonia rolled her eyes, she said nothing more. Her brothers, though, were incandescent. Helmut had branded her a manipulative snake. But it was John who had the most to say, all but accusing her of sleeping her way into the position. Not that she was the least bit surprised. Of all her siblings, their relationship had always had the most friction. They had been adopted practically at the same time, at the same age, and knowingly or not, were pitted against each other for the same things. So when he had the audacity to level such accusations at her tonight, it hadn’t come as a shock.

What did come as a shock was Steve’s reaction. He was standing by the door of the conference room, but from her periphery, she caught the way his entire demeanor went rigid the second her brothers had voiced their outrage. On the car ride back to her building, he remained silent, only speaking into his ear piece to alert the rest of his team of their impending arrival. Otherwise, he gazed out the windshield pensively, his jaw set. The tension that had found its way to his shoulders had never subsided either, and she’s certain if she looked back at him now, she could still find it in his stance.

She couldn’t lie. The idea of this man, who she had come to know as the very epitome of composure and level-headedness, getting incensed on her behalf… it did things to her. While she prided herself in being a consummate professional, with Steve, she found that to be an arduous task. As anyone with a pulse and a pair of eyes could deduce, with his broad shoulders, strong arms, and blue eyes so intense it made you feel as though you were being swallowed whole by the ocean, Steve Rogers was a specimen. Couple that with the fact that she has never felt safer in someone’s presence than when she’s around his, and well. It’s no wonder that this man has been the star of her filthiest dreams for months.

As they near her door, she reaches for her keys in her coat pocket, letting her mind wander back to Steve’s reaction to her touch in the elevator mere moments ago. She bites her lip as she recalls the way he had said her name, as though he was at odds with himself, trying to keep himself together. She wonders how quick he would be to keep his composure if he knew every which way she has thought of his lips on hers, of his hands on her body, and his weight holding her down.

Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t realize that her keys have slipped from her grasp until she sees a flash of movement as Steve reaches out in front of her, catching them in his palm. Not that she’s surprised. His eyes are never not on her, watching her, and though she knows he’s just doing his job, secretly, she savors it. When she finally looks up at him, the concern that’s been pooling in his eyes all night has somehow intensified, and she finds herself holding in a breath at their sudden proximity. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, but the tightness in his expression tells her he doesn’t quite believe her. She mumbles a thanks as she takes her keys back from him, and as they make it to her door, she waits. If all the nights he’s walked her to this very spot were anything to go by, this is where he leaves her. But as she pushes the key into the lock, he remains rooted in place, and a rush of excitement fills her chest as she opens the door to her suite.

He should turn around now. The idea gnaws away at him even as he nods at Bucky at the opposite end of the hall, officially passing the night shift onto his colleague. But even so, like a moth to a flame, he finds himself following Natasha inside.

“Thank you,” she says as they cross the threshold and he helps her shrug out of her coat. He nods in acknowledgement, stowing it away. “Can I pour you a drink?”

He looks to see that she’s made her way to the living room, glancing at him from over her shoulder as she stands by the credenza, one hand already on the decanter. “I’m still on the clock.”

“That’s what you always say,” she says cheekily, turning her attention back to the crystal before her. It could end here, he tells himself. He could bid her goodnight, turn around, and make his way back home the way he’s done every night. Instead, he pads forward still. “Besides, I saw James out there. As far as I’m concerned, you’re off duty.”

“Is that an order?” he asks as he comes to stand next to her, eyeing the two tumblers she now has in her hands.

The corner of her lips turns up in a sly grin. “It could be.”

He shakes his head, biting back a groan. “Natasha-”

“Please?”

The way she’s looking at him from underneath the fan of her darkened lashes is just not fair. The spark in her eyes is Goliath, and his self-restraint, what little remains of it anyway, is merely David. He sighs in concession. “One drink.”

“One drink,” she parrots, her expression lighting up in victory as she extends the other drink towards him. It wasn’t a secret to him that she’s fond of winning. What is novel is the effervescent feeling that rushes through him knowing he’s letting her, and it’s one he finds he could dangerously get addicted to. They clink glasses before taking a sip, and he relishes the familiar burn of liquor down his throat. “Besides,” she says a beat later, “if a nearly hundred year old scotch can’t turn that frown upside down, what will?” His lips press into a hard line at that, and he watches the way she tilts her head to the side. “Want to tell me what that’s about?”

He wants to. God knows the words have been hanging on the tip of his tongue the entire night, begging to be said. He so desperately wants to tell her that her brothers are low lives. That she deserves better. That it kills him that he couldn’t say or do anything in her defense because not only does she not need him to fight her battles, but also it’s simply not his place. This isn’t a discussion a bodyguard has with his client, which is why he settles for, “Your brothers are a piece of work.”

She hums in agreement. “You knew that, though.”

He did. Her brothers may have never had the audacity to speak to her the way they did tonight when their parents were still around, but the animosity has always been palpable from their backhanded comments to the outright callousness with which they viewed the situation with her stalker, practically ridiculing Natasha for needing round-the-clock security. The latter makes his blood boil – the idea that they think their sister’s safety is something to trivialize, and this time, he isn’t able to hold back. “I should’ve beat John to a pulp.”

The regret sets in the second the words leave his mouth, and he admonishes himself internally. His lips part to apologize, but before he can, Natasha chuckles. “Believe me, he isn’t worth the bruised knuckles or the assault charge.”

“Maybe I’d like to be the judge of that.”

“Such a man,” she says teasingly, taking another sip of her drink.

For the first time since they entered the conference room this evening, he feels his lips lifting into a little smile. If Natasha could find levity in the situation, shrug it off, surely he could, too. And perhaps it’s the liquid courage giving him the audacity to do so, but before he lets the subject go completely, he finds himself finally asking the one question that’s been eating away at him all night. “Natasha, why didn’t you say anything?”

She’s silent for a while, her eyes studying his face. What she’s searching for, he’s unsure. Nevertheless, he holds her gaze, waiting, because none of the events tonight made sense to him. He’s been with her in countless meetings this year, some of which have bordered on incendiary, and while she’s not one to be prone to an outburst, she also doesn’t turn the other cheek the way she did in front of her family tonight.

Eventually, Natasha shrugs. “Because there’s no point.”

“No point?” he asks. “Natasha, I don’t understand.” He’s overstepping now, he knows, but the words slip from his lips just the same. “They shouldn’t be able to speak about you that way! None of what they said is true. The board chose you because you earned it. You submitted the best proposal to take the company forward, not them! And they have the audacity-”

“What choice do I have, Steve?” Natasha interrupts, and for a moment, he can only stand there, frozen, taken aback by her question. As she stares at him, the playful mood she’s been intent on upholding dissipates, and she sighs. “I know none of what my brothers say or think about me is true, but what choice do I have but to take it?”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Natasha, you’re allowed to defend yourself.”

“I wish that were true,” she says, smiling ruefully. “I want this job because I care about continuing my parents’ legacy. But the board?” The resentment in her tone is clear as day she adds, “all they care about is making it seem like there was a clear succession plan so our stock price doesn’t dip.” Her shoulders lift as she scoffs. “If I react… If I so much as show them that my brothers get under my skin, I’m too emotional. Too soft to run this company. But if I respond in kind… I’m a bitch that’ll run it to the ground out of spite.” She shakes her head. “Much as I’d like to wipe that smug look off John’s face, I have to play the long game.”

“Natasha…” he says, placing his drink down on the credenza. He’s been so lost in his anger tonight that he forgot, momentarily, that the stakes are, and have always been, different for her. It wasn’t fair, but the bar for her has always been higher, the fall from the top always steeper. It’s why she’s careful to keep as much of her private life out of the press. Why she meticulously plans her every move, demanding perfection of herself even as her siblings – her brothers, especially – are given seemingly endless leeway for their transgressions. He steps closer to her, putting a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be.”

Her eyes go from the hand he has on her arm to his face. “It is,” she says, agreeing to the sentiment without any specifics. Somehow, that pulls even more at his heart strings. Because it’s all of it, all the time, he realizes.

He sighs. “I wish-”

He doesn’t get to finish his thought as she pushes on the tips of her toes, pressing her lips to his. The kiss is soft, sweet, tender. She pulls away a moment too soon, but not soon enough for him not to catch a taste of the heady mix that’s her lipstick, the scotch, and something uniquely Natasha.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha says a beat later when the silence between them lingers. “I thought-”

A growl rips from the back of his throat, and before he can stop himself, his hands come up to cup her face as he pulls her into a searing kiss. The tumbler in hand falls from her grasp, hitting the ground and shattering into a million pieces by their feet, but neither of them pay it any mind as he backs them towards the nearest wall.

“I want you,” he confesses, exhaling deeply as he leans his forehead against hers, “so much I can barely think straight. Barely breathe.”

Her hands wrap around him, pulling him closer. “It’s the same for me.”

“Fuck,” the curse falls unbidden from his lips as he hears her confirm their mutual longing. As absurd as it seems at this moment, he could still put a stop to all this. They’re both toeing the line, but with one step back, he still could pull them away from it. Go back to what they were, what they ought to be. Client and bodyguard. Business associates. Friends. He could tell himself that what they’re doing is wrong, verboten. But as he looks down at her, he finds that he can’t. He doesn’t want to. Because there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that feels wrong about having Natasha Romanoff in his arms. Whatever line there is, he’s sprinting well and truly past it.

“What do you want me to do, Nat?” There’s a part of him that already knows the answer. Even so, he wants – needs – to hear her say it.

Her eyes twinkle, and her response is the gush of wind that sends the house of cards that’s his restraint crumbling. “Kiss me.”

With that, he finds her lips again, kissing her passionately as if one kiss could make up for months and months of not having her. He doesn’t hold back, and based on the way she gasps, her hands finding purchase on his arms, squeezing tightly, he suspects that she doesn’t want him to. It’s when he takes her hands, pinning them above her head with his own as his lips find their way down to her neck that she cries out, voicing her approval when he pushes his pelvis flush against her, letting her feel the effect she has on him.

“Been wanting this for so long,” she says, and when he looks back up at her, her eyes are dazed as she tries to catch her breath.

He lowers one hand to her face, running his thumb over her cheek as he, too, forces air into his lungs. “Yeah?”

She nods, swallowing hard. “Every night when you go home, I keep thinking you’ll come back. Bring me to bed.”

His hands slide down to her waist, digging into the silk of her dress. “Then what do I do, Nat?”

“You take me hard and dirty,” she says without an ounce of hesitation. “So much that every time I move, all I can think about is you.”

He groans her name, stealing the breath right out of her lungs with another bruising kiss. “You’re all I think about when I come home, too.” He trails his lips up her jaw, to the shell of her ear to whisper, “I spread you out on my bed, kiss every inch of your skin until you’re begging me to let you come.” His words elicit a moan from her, and he feels her nails dig into his biceps through the material of his button up. “I’ll take you any way you want me to, Nat. Hard, dirty, rough… All you have to do is tell me.”

She shudders in his hold, and he pulls away just enough to see her expression drunk with unadulterated lust. There’s a mischievous glint in her eye as she contemplates the possibilities. “I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.” She brings her arms up, wrapping it around his neck. “Tell me how I want to be fucked, Steve.”

Months of wanting, months of wondering… They’ve all led to this very moment, and as she looks out into the expanse of the room, illuminated only by the glow of the skyline filtering in from the panel of floor-to-ceiling windows right across, she feels her heart race in anticipation.

“Quite the view you’ve chosen here,” she says, her voice sounding breathier than usual even to her own ears. She wasn’t sure where they were headed when Steve had scooped her up into his arms, and in all honesty, she didn’t quite care. But the second he had crossed the hall into her office, it’s as if a fresh wave of desire shot straight through her veins.

“Hadn’t noticed,” Steve says from where he stands behind her, crowding her against the desk. His hands find the thin straps of her dress, and she can’t help the shiver that runs down her spine when he pushes them off her shoulders.

“Why are we here, Steve?” she finds herself asking, sucking in a breath as he begins to pull on her zipper. As it reaches the end, the garment slinks down her body, the material shimmering in the dark in a pool by her feet. He mutters a curse under his breath, and feeling emboldened, she turns around. The first thing she notices is that he’s shed his suit jacket, draped it on the back of her chair, but she can only glance at it fleetingly because the second she looks at his face, her stomach flutters. His typically bright eyes have gone dark, the hunger evident in them as he takes in the sight of her standing before him in nothing but a lacy black thong and heels. “You know, if you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to start feeling a tad obscene.”

“You don’t stare at a work of art,” he counters. “You admire it.” Heat rushes to her cheeks, and inwardly, she marvels at the irony. Here she is, standing before this man in nearly nothing, and somehow, it’s his words that have her blushing. She bites back a smile, trying to busy herself by stepping out of her heels when she feels his fingers encircle her wrist. There’s a devious glint in his eyes when she looks up. “Leave them on.”

She arches a brow in intrigue, but doesn’t question the request. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

The grin that creeps onto his lips is trouble personified, and she finds herself holding her breath as he steps forward, erasing what little distance was left between them. “You told me to tell you how you want to be fucked,” he says, reaching for her waist and making her gasp as he hoists her up onto her desk as if she weighs nothing. He nudges her knees apart, standing between her legs and whispering down into her ear. “You want it hard, Nat.” She bites her lip, goosebumps prickling her skin as his breath dances across it, and she’s so entranced by his words that she doesn’t even realize he’s pulled on the pin of her bun until it comes loose at the base of her neck, her hair cascading down her back like a crimson waterfall. “You want it so rough you’ll feel me for days.” Her eyes fall shut when he leans down to press a kiss to her pulse, and as his other hand trails up, cupping her breast and making her nipple pebble underneath his ministrations, she can only throw her head back. “And I think you might even want it to hurt a little.”

He tugs on her nipple, making her gasp, and instantly, she feels herself grow wetter between her legs. “God, yes.”

“Is that what you want?”

She leans further into his touch. “That’s exactly what I want.”

He smiles against her skin. “And that’s what you’ll get,” he promises. “But first, I think you want me to spread you out on this desk…” He pulls away enough to look at her, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear with his free hand. The gesture is so tender, the complete and polar opposite of what he’s promising to do to her right now, that it makes her head spin. “Eat you out right where you spend your days telling people what to do, making all those important decisions… Tease you with my mouth until you’re out of your mind.” She sucks in a gasp. “How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” she manages to heave out. “That sounds perfect.”

“Then lean back, Nat.”

She does as commanded, moving her palms behind her and watching him take a step back, his eyes never once breaking contact with hers while unbuttons the cuffs on his shirt. As he rolls his sleeves up his forearms, it occurs to her that while she’s all but laid out bare before him, he’s still fully dressed. But even with this imbalance, something about the way his licentious gaze trails up her body, taking her in, makes her feel desired in a way she’s never felt before.

It’s when he slides a hand down the flat of her belly, reaching the lace of her thong and ripping the delicate material away with one flick of his wrist that she feels her sex pulse. “Oh, God.”

“Do you know what it does to me?” he asks as he settles down on her chair. “Knowing that I’ve seen you at this desk, taking all those meetings… Making all those calls.” He hikes her legs up, setting her heels at the edge of her desk and licking his lips at the sight of her arousal glistening between her thighs. “In these shoes.” When he dusts a kiss just above where the strap rests on her ankle, the soft hair of his beard brushing against her skin, she can only whimper knowing his mouth is so close yet still so far from where she’s aching to feel him. “And now here you are, so wet for me…” He brushes a finger teasingly at her entrance, her vision blurring when she hears him groan. “Aching to be touched.”

There’s a part of her that wishes he would tell her. Tell her every single detail of the effect she has on him, to know that he’s as desperate for her touch as she is for his. But then he’s pushing in, her body taking him without any resistance. “Steve,” she whines, her gaze falling between her legs, watching every movement of his hand. For a moment, it’s as though she can’t breathe, too lost in her own pleasure and too mesmerized by seeing everything as it happens to her. Her hips cant upwards when he adds another finger. “Oh.”

He looks up at her, and his voice is tight as he speaks, as though he’s feeling just as inebriated with desire as she is right now. “Good, baby?”

When she mewls out another yes, he dips his head between her legs, his lips grazing her heat, and with his hands and mouth working her in tandem, she falls back on the desk, her arms no longer able to hold her up. Her hands fly to his hair, pulling, needing something, anything, to keep her from drowning in this ecstasy. She’s so turned on beyond words, that when he licks a broad stripe up her center, all she can do is cry out his name. Of all the nights she had fantasized about this, none of them could hold a candle to the pleasure she feels right now. The way he teases her, licking tantalizingly at her folds and sucking at her bundle of nerves until she’s just there, only to pull away before she crests… It’s deliriously good, a high she’s fast becoming hooked on.

“You look so good like this, Nat,” Steve says, easing his mouth off her to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh even as he continues to work her with his fingers. “Look at you, just begging to fall apart.”

“Steve,” she begins to say, only for her words to be replaced by a moan when he nips at the flesh of her inner thigh, the little sting of pain making her back bow off the mahogany. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Come for me, Nat,” he says, bringing his mouth back to her center, his lips finding her bundle of nerves. She arches against his face, seeking out more contact, more everything, and as white-hot pleasure permeates throughout her every nerve ending, she finds exactly what she’s been craving. All of her worries, her laundry list of things to do… they all fade into nothing, and all she can think about is the heat unfurling low in her stomach, building. Rising.

“No!” She whimpers when Steve pulls his fingers out, tears nearly stinging her eyes as her walls flutter around nothing. Vaguely, she’s aware of him shushing her gently, of his hand moving lower, and then even lower still. “Oh, my God,” she gasps when she feels his finger at her other entrance, teasing. She tenses – unsure of how far he’ll take this, how far she’ll let him. But before she can give it more thought, her body answers for her, a long, needy moan escaping from her lips as his tongue flicks at her clit and his finger presses in. And then her body is trembling, her orgasm washing over her like waves crashing violently to shore.

She’s not sure how long she revels in bliss. Seconds, maybe, but with the intensity of the aftershocks, it feels like an eternity. It takes her a moment, but eventually, she recognizes the telltale sound of a zipper being pulled. Her eyes flutter open, and with what strength she still has, she sits up just as Steve brings a hand to his length, stroking.

Her mouth falls open, and despite the earth-shattering climax he’s just wringed out of her, she feels her nipples already tightening at the sight before her. She’s not entirely certain how her body could still crave more, but as she watches Steve’s hand shuttle up and down his hardness, his gaze trained on her and only her, it does. The scene playing out before her feels like a cut straight out of her dirtiest fantasy, and she couldn’t look away if she tried.

It’s when Steve’s hand slows at the head, his thumb gathering the bead of liquid, that their eyes meet. He’s always been adept at anticipating her needs, and when it comes to her base desires, it seems it’s no different. He brings his thumb to her mouth, slowly sliding his arousal over her lip, and as the salty taste of him hits her tongue, she moans, taking his hand between both of hers and drawing him all the way in.

“Christ, Nat,” Steve says, groaning when she nips at the skin of his thumb only to soothe it over with her tongue, sucking. She’s lost count of the number of nights she’s spent wondering what he tastes like, and now that she knows, she's ravenous with how much she wants more. With a pained groan, Steve pulls his hand away, his lips finding hers before she can so much as blink. The kiss is intoxicating – tasting of her, of him, of them. By the time they separate, she’s practically writhing, the heat between her legs once again unbearable. “Going to bend you over this desk now.”

With a smile, she slides off, stands, and turns. Behind her, she can hear the tearing of foil as he pulls out a condom and rolls it on, and then his hand is between her shoulder blades, pushing her down. She rests her cheek against the wood, and as he presses against her entrance, she cries out in need. In need of the rightness of this very moment. The covetousness. The tabooness of them, together, as Steve widens her stance, spreads her open, and sinks right into her in a single thrust. Her name falls from his lips, his tone gravelly. Intoxicated. She feels it just the same, her nails scratching at the wood as he bottoms out.

Steve curls his body over hers, and as he sets a rhythm with his hips that’s as delectable as it is punishing, she lets her eyes fall shut, the glow of Manhattan below them disappearing as she loses herself in the sensation. The sensation of finally having the man she’s been fantasizing over, of him buried deep inside of her, of him letting her indulge in her wildest desires right in her office, not a single soul knowing what they’re up to.

His lips pepper every inch of her skin that he can find, every kiss like another one of their dirty little secrets that she’ll keep. He’s not the least bit gentle, and when he slides his hands around her, cupping her breasts, she yelps when he pinches at her nipples.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, because even when he’s doing exactly as she’s asked, she knows him, knows he could never live with himself if he hurt her.

“It’s not,” she assures him, letting out another whimper when he repeats the motion and she basks in the sharp tingle that follows. “It’s so good. So fucking good.”

Her moans fall freely now, if not a little muffled by the desk, but she couldn't care less. As she tethers between pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain, the seesaw of sensations is like gasoline slowly but surely dripping into the fire of her lust.

“What do you need, Nat?” Steve asks not a moment too soon, sensing her longing before she does in that uncanny way only he can.

She wishes she knew. She can feel the pleasure coiling at her spine, threatening to burst over her, and yet it’s as though she’s searching for that little extra spark to set her ablaze – a spark that she hadn’t even known she wanted, much less needed, until Steve had shown her tonight. As the frustration of tethering on the edge begins to set in, she whimpers. “Steve,” she breathes out, moaning at a particularly delicious thrust of his hips. “More.”

In her haze, she doesn’t quite catch what Steve murmurs in response, feeling only the kiss he presses to her cheek as his hands let go of her breasts, traveling down her sides, until they’re past her waist.

“Ah!” she cries out when his palm collides with her backside, the sound reverberating across the room. The burn dissolves into pleasure, and she keens. “Again,” she says, hearing Steve growl in response, hips driving deeper into her as he raises his palm and swats her once more. “Oh, just like that.”

He obliges her request, once, twice. And then another time, until soon, all the sensations brew into one outrageous storm, and as Steve reaches around her and down to where they’re joined, circling her bundle of nerves, it breaks. With a litany of incoherent sounds falling from her mouth, she falls apart, taking Steve right down the edge with her.

Just once. That’s what he had told himself when he decided to throw caution to the wind and kiss Natasha senseless. When he slipped that dress off her body, hoisted her up on that desk. One time to get her out of his system. One time to make him stop wondering.

But now that he knows what it’s like to have her in his arms, knows what she sounds like just as she’s on the brink of falling apart, he doesn’t think he can ever get enough.

He should leave, put as much distance between him and the temptation that is Natasha Romanoff. But as he pulls his pants up and disposes of the condom, he finds that he can’t just yet. “Come on, gorgeous,” he says as he lifts her into his arms, mindful of her pinkened skin. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

A sated sigh slips from her lips as she settles against his chest. He pads out of her office, making his way to the other side of her suite enroute to her bedroom and right into the ensuite bathroom. When he reaches the large soaking tub, he sets her on the ledge, watching as she winces. He frowns. “I told you to tell me if it was too much.”

“It wasn’t,” she says firmly as he turns on the tap, adjusting the temperature. She leans forward, running her hand under the running water. A smile breaks out on her face. “Just how I like it.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going to lie,” she says, yawning. “I think I might just doze off.”

“I’ll turn this off,” he says, already reaching to shut the water. “The last thing we want is for you to drown in your own tub.”

“No!” she says, her lower lip jutting out in a pout, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “You know I can’t turn down a good bubble bath.”

“That I also know,” he says softly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He shouldn’t feel such joy at knowing these things about her. In fact, he shouldn’t even have all these little details in his brain, like the fact that she loves daisies and that her guilty pleasure is watermelon-flavored Sour Patch Kids, so much so that she always keeps an emergency stash of them in the bottom drawer of her desk. Or the fact that she got her love of candy from her mom, who would always have a pack in her bag ready for them to share. It’s also why she makes sure to carry some with her when she goes to visit the kids, sneaking them treats even though she knows the staff at the orphanage frowns upon the sugary delights.

But that was Natasha. Ever caring, ever kind-hearted. Always trying to do good with the privilege bestowed upon her.

There isn’t a goddamn thing that he doesn’t like about this woman, he realizes. Mind, soul, and now body – it attracts him all.

Which is why he shouldn’t be privy to all these things about her. None of it has to do with him doing his job. With keeping her safe.

He has to leave.

“Steve.” Natasha’s voice breaks him out of his reverie, and when he looks at her, he finds her brows furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“All good,” he assures her. He wishes he could give her more than a few words, but he doesn’t trust himself not to crack open now, to confess to her that the absolute last thing he wants to do is leave.

“Well, then…” she begins, a sheepish expression suddenly painting her features. “Do you mind stepping out for a bit while I use the little girl’s room?” Despite his thoughts being at war, he finds that he can’t help but chuckle at her request. She gasps, shoving his arm even as she tries desperately not to crack a smile. “Don’t laugh! Everyone pees.”

“Really? I never knew,” he quips, prompting her to roll her eyes.

“You just fucked me into oblivion,” she adds. “Peeing is not optional.”

He arches a brow at her. “You’ll say things like that, but God forbid I watch you pee?”

“A little mystery never killed anybody.”

He shakes his head. “I can just go.”

“No,” she says, reaching out to catch his arm again. “I only need a minute.” She looks up at him, eyes wide. “Come back, please.”

He’s not sure if it’s the please she added at the end of her request or the vulnerability in her eyes as she said it, but either way, it renders any thoughts he had of walking out of her front door right now moot. With a nod, he makes his way out of her bathroom, leaving the door just ajar.

As he waits, he paces her bedroom, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He stops by her windowsill, looking out into the glimmering city. Below, he finds the crowds still bustling, going about their night, the image only serving to highlight his current solitude. Here he is, standing atop one of the tallest skyscrapers in town, alone in the bedroom of the woman he’s just slept with. A woman who also happens to be his client, his assignment. A woman he had no business touching, much less having.

He leans his forehead against the glass, sighing. It’s when he finds himself at a crossroads like this that he truly missed his mom the most. What he would give to be able to pick up the phone and give her a ring again. But even though that’s no longer a possibility, he still knows what she would tell him – the only answer she deemed right and universal to every predicament.

When in doubt, do the right thing.

Guilt washes over him from the top of his head down to his toes. If there’s one thing that’s crystallized for him tonight, it’s that being with Natasha impaired his judgment, and that’s just not something he could afford, given his job. The very same job that not only requires him to make decisions on the fly, but that also demands that he make the right ones. Mistakes didn’t come cheap in his field. At best, they led to injury. At worst, they were fatal. The last thought brings a chill down his spine, and he reminds himself of the file he has in his office, the very same file Alexei had brought to him way back when, filled with stolen pictures of Natasha that the maniac had coveted, and letters that he had written to her. The endless reports that detailed every which way that poor excuse of a human being used to subvert security. He reminds himself that if not for that one detective who had gotten there in time, he may never have gotten the chance to meet Natasha.

He implores himself to remember all of that. To sear into his memory what was at stake if he chooses to be selfish right now, and what the consequences could be. With that, he moves away from the window, rapping softly on the frame of the open door.

“All clear!”

Given the clearance, he walks in, and the sight that greets him has him cursing under his breath for the umpteenth time this evening. In the tub, Natasha sits surrounded by bubbles, her hair piled high up in a bun.

“Hi,” she says, her tone soft and her face all but glowing. She pats the space he had set her down on not long ago. “Come sit.” His only response is to nod, making his way over to her to perch on the marble ledge. “We should talk.”

“We should,” he says, resisting the urge to push the strands of hair that have fallen loose from her bun away from her face.

“I can tell you’re wound up, Steve,” she says.

His lips quirk up slightly. “Isn’t that what I usually tell you?”

She cracks a smile, but it lasts but a second as she reaches for his hand. “You regret this.”

“What? Natasha, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Never. Don’t you ever think that.”

She bites her lip. “Really?”

“Of course,” he says without skipping a beat, his hand reaching to cup her face. “Being with you was a dream come true.”

She sighs, relief washing over her face as she leans into his touch. “It was a dream come true for me, too.”

“It was incredible,” he adds, swallowing the tightness that’s suddenly formed in his throat. “I could never regret it.” He sighs, dreading his next words. But he has to say them. Has to be honest. “But, Nat, it can’t happen again.” The sadness that fills her eyes is a dagger straight to his heart, but he soldiers on. Do the right thing, he reminds himself. “My head isn’t clear when I’m with you, and I need it to be in order to do my job. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“You would never let anything happen to me.”

The way she says it, with so much trust and certainty, floors him. And it’s this, the amount of faith she has in him and in his ability to keep her out of harm’s way, that gives him the strength to remain steadfast. “And it’s going to stay that way,” he promises. “You haven’t a clue what it would do to me if something happened to you.”

“Tell me,” she says, eyes imploring.

He shakes his head, his mind refusing to entertain the possibility. “It’s not going to happen.”

She reaches for the hand he has on her face, clasping it between her own. “Having you by my side this last year… I’ve never felt safer.”

“Good,” he says, allowing his lips to pull up in a little smile. “I’m glad.”

Easily, if not a little too easily, they slip into conversation as if it’s the end of just another night for them at the gym. She talks about the plans she’s made for the upcoming bachelor party of her best friend, and they both laugh at how ridiculous some of the decorations she’s ordered are going to turn out. In turn, he gives her his assessment of what he thinks is blooming between the doorman and the receptionist in her building.

“You suspected there was something going on between those two and you’re only telling me now?” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “You know I’ve been trying to play matchmaker for weeks!”

“I needed to make sure my intel was- hey!” he exclaims, barely dodging the water she splashes his way. As she sticks her tongue out at him, he glares at her witheringly.

“Serves you right for withholding information,” she says, only to gasp when he suddenly retaliates. “Rogers!”

The image of her cheek and shoulder marred by bubbles causes him to burst out in laughter. “I’m sorry!” he says, and despite her best effort, she too begins laughing. “Here, let me help you.”

“You better,” she mutters, and he rolls his lips to prevent another laugh from slipping.

He reaches forward, gingerly wiping away the suds from her cheek with the back of his hand, doing the same with the ones on her shoulder. “Your skin is so soft.”

“It’s all the bath oils,” she says, taking his hand. “You should try them sometime.” She scoops some water into her palm to pour it over his, massaging his fingers. “Or, better yet… you could come join me.”

As she looks at him, she bites her lip, and he can only groan. “You, Natasha Romanoff, are trouble.” Her only response is to shrug, and it takes every bit of restraint he has left in his body to not lean in and kiss that little smirk off her lips. Focus. “That… person. He could have easily harmed you, and all he got was a measly six months of jail time.”

“And he hasn’t sniffed this place since,” she points out. “You’re exceptional at your job, Steve. As is your team. I haven’t even gotten so much as a suspicious letter.”

“And that’s how it’s going to remain,” he says, adamant.

She huffs out a breath that’s long and winded. “You’re really not going to touch me again, are you?”

He shakes his head no, smiling sadly as his response elicits another disappointed sigh from her. He lifts their joined hands, bringing it up to press a kiss to the back of hers. “But know, in my dreams, I have you every night.” She throws her head back, groaning, and he chuckles. “I should go.”

“Yeah,” she says, tilting her head playfully to the side. “You keep saying that.”

He grins. “Can I get you a towel?”

“Please.”

He stands to retrieve a towel from the rack, grabbing the fluffiest one, and when he returns to her, he finds that smile playing on her lips again. “What?”

“Well, if you’re going to leave, I guess you better turn around.”

It shouldn’t be that hard to do. But when all he wants is to wrap this towel around her, pull her in, and carry her to bed, the effort feels Herculean. He chuckles, setting the cloth down by the ledge before making his way out. “Goodnight, Natasha.”

“Goodnight, Steve,” she says, and though he couldn’t see her face, the amusement in her tone is all the confirmation he needs to know that she hasn’t wiped that smirk off her face. “See you tomorrow.”

Read Part 2: Blinding Lights here

#Romanogers #So It Goes...#natrogers #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #Bodyguard AU

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hainethehero · 10 months

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Stucky AU- where Bucky is Steve's bodyguard and he's always in a state of FML because Steve's a lil shit

"...it's so unfair!" Steve complained into his phone.

"I mean, I kinda understand why he did what he did Steve," Natasha- Princess Natalia- his good friend sighed over the line.

"Whose side are you on?" Steve cried indignantly, flopping over onto his back as he lay spread eagled on his ironically King-sized bed, for he was a young prince with many years ahead of him before he could even dream of ascending the throne of Mersondawn.

"I'm just saying," Natasha starts, "you disappeared for a whole two hours and no one knew where you were."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Tony just wanted to show me the new car he'd built..." he mutters childishly.

"Tony? As in Captain Howard Stark's son?"

Steve bites his lip. "Yeah. I mean, Tony's my friend, why would Bucky be so worried?"

"You really aren't beating those dumb blonde allegations are you?" Natasha deadpans.

"Wha- I'm not dumb-" Steve protests.

"He's your bodyguard," Natasha emphasizes, "of course he'd be worried!"

"Ugh... I hate this!" Steve whines.

He could practically hear Natasha pursing her lips at him in disappointment over the phone.

"Look," she says finally, "his job is to watch over you like a hawk-"

"He's more like a falcon," Steve mumbles causing Natasha to clear her throat sternly.

"His job is to watch over you and when you pull this near-weekly disappearing act, you're kinda messing with the guy's bread and butter."

Steve is silent for some time, thinking it over before he whines like a spoiled kid. "My bodyguard hates me."

Natasha chuckles, muttering something in Russian distantly before returning to the call. "He doesn't hate you, Steve. You just need to give the guy a break. And apologize for nearly giving him a heart attack."

Steve swallows nervously, eyeing his locked bedroom doors. "He... told Uncle Fury on me and got the 'OK' to incarcerate me in my room."

"You kinda deserve it," Natasha chirps, totally amused at Steve's despair.

"Again, whose side are you on?" Steve grumbles.

"Alright, I gotta go, Yelena has a friend she wants me to meet so.."

"Who is it?"

"Uh, Kate or something. She looks cool so far."

"Well, have fun then," Steve says and he can't help but feel envious because Natasha is out being free while he has to stay locked in his room.

"Hey, let me know how it goes?"

"Sure," he says before hanging up.

He tosses the phone onto his bed and sits up, arms perched on his sides as he glares at the door begrudgingly. He knows his bodyguard is somewhere out there, just waiting to pounce on him. And despite all of Steve's mighty whining, he's a cub in the face of Bucky's lion. The man had always been scary ever since he became Steve's personal bodyguard. And he was even more terrifying when Steve did something stupid. Like right now.

Bucky creeps up on him like a shadow, stopping him from moving beyond two steps of his quietly opened door.

"I thought I told you to stay in your room, punk?"

"G'ahh!' Steve croaks, blushing at his high pitched shriek and Bucky's annoying nickname for him which he secretly loved. "What the hell Buck?!"

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fic-ive-read · 1 year

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Link To The Fic

#tony stark/jason todd #tony stark #jason todd #clint barton #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #bruce wayne #alternate universe #bodyguard!jason todd #alternate timelines #kid fic #domestic fluff #fluff and angst #slow burn #team as family #canon typical violence #graphic depictions of violence

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im-95-not-dead · 5 months

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Safe Here (In My Arms) on ao3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes / Clint Barton

Word Count: 12.1k

Event: @buckybarnesevents Build A Bucky Bingo 2023

Prompt: November Fill: Farmer's Market

Tags: au no powers, bodyguard!Clint, celebrity!Bucky, past abusive relationship, reference domestic violence, angst with humor, hurt comfort, happy ending

Summary:

“Hello?” he said defeatedly, not even bothering to check the caller ID because it was either Nat or spam. “Mr Barton?” came Steve Rogers’ deep voice on the other end. Clint straightened up even though he knew Steve couldn’t see him. Hopefully. “Yeah, yes, that’s me. Mr Rogers, hello.” “Hi,” Steve said and Clint could hear the amused smile in his voice. “Are you still interested in and available to work for Mr Barnes?” “Am I? Yes, I mean, yes. I am.” “Excellent. You start Monday.

BABB2023 Masterlist

#BaBB2023 #buckybarnesevents #BaBB #Bucky Barnes #Clint Barton #Natasha Romanoff #Steve rogers #au #bodyguard au #no powers #fanfiction #tumblr event #marvel #babb2023

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myfictionaldreams · 3 months

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I you are interested I wanted to offer a possible request.

It would be a smutty mafia!stucky one (you can pick which one of them or both if you want)

So I was thinking about the reader topping one of them, but not in a dominant way. Like she was good or something and wanted to reward her by letting her pick anything she wanted and she wanted to ride them while they were restrained.

So (whoever was picked) would be bound to the bed with a blindfold and the reader gets to use them for her pleasure with free rain and cause of the blindfold they feel and hear everything more intensely so they can hear how wet she is as she uses them for her reward.

So she's not dominating them just getting a free use card and can move however she wants unprompted, cum how many times she wants, overstimulate (whoever is used) until she is happy and can use toys on herself too but all they can do is lay on the bed restrained and wait for her to be satisfied before being let go.

This came to me so randomly so I thought it might be an option for you maybe if you liked it. Have a nice day!

Being on Top // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

A/N: I've thought about this request so much. Thank you so much for sending it!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, anxiety, mention of gunshot wound, free use, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, rough sex, oral (f receiving), cum eating, cockwarming, overstimulation, restraints, blindfolds, vibrator, begging, praise kink, riding, dom/sub, rough cock play, masturbation

Words: 5.2k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Bucky watched intently. Fighting the urge to blink and wet the dryness itching at his eyes, he continued monitoring the situation before him. You were vacant. Eyes glassed over, and your body curled in on itself like you were attempting to make yourself as small as possible. It wasn’t this that concerned him; it was that you couldn’t look Steve in the eye despite trying to glimpse him out of the corner of your eye every couple of seconds.

Steve was watching with just as much concern as the bodyguards throughout the room, Sam and Natasha. Unbeknown to you, however, your gaze flicked towards Steve again but then swiftly landed on the spot on the carpet that had so thoroughly captured your attention.

Bucky had been trying to work the cogs in his brain for over an hour now, trying to figure out what was happening in your mind. The visible signs of distress he’d witnessed before when you were feeling fragile, whether it be due to being needy and submissive or because you were beginning to feel unwell with sickness. The first was most likely as you were displaying any visible signs of being ill; your heart rate was fine, and the same with your breathing; he knew he’d been counting and listening carefully. For once, he thanked his unique abilities.

The most likely answer was that you were experiencing some sort of mental health decline, but when you were needy or in the form of subspace, you would crawl into either his or Steve’s lap, not look frightened even to look the latter in the eye.

Risking a look away, Bucky caught Steve’s eye. The same level of concern was etched deep into his face; brows furrowed so deeply a line had formed between them. His teeth were clenched so hard that he looked like his jawbone would snap as he held his tongue, trying and failing to think of the right way to approach his girlfriend. The one person who shouldn’t be scared of him now looked as frightened of him as the enemies who cowered at his feet.

Bucky was running out of options as you began to chew on the corner of your recently done red-manicured nails, one of the many treats gifted to you by him and Steve for Valentine’s Day. It was never a good sign when you fell into old habits, and Bucky was on the verge of ripping out his hair and trying to decide what was best. Ask what is going on or approach you like a scared animal.

As his mouth opened, however, a flash of red distorted his view of you as Natasha stood directly in front of where you were curled up on the couch placed in Steve’s office for your comfort.

Natasha looked down at you, giving you a casual grin as she held out her hand with the matching manicure on her nails gleaming back at you, the red almost the same shade as her hair. Your eyes darted between her wiggling fingers and the welcoming smile as she nodded toward the door.

Taking her hand without a single word, you unfolded from your curled-up position and stood, mindlessly following her out of the door. Natasha pulled you into the elevator at the end of the corridor, riding down a couple of floors before arriving at the food hall with a private kitchen. One of the main perks of owning the entire building for the gang was that the sky was the limit concerning the facilities that could be added.

“Sit”, Natasha instructed, pointing to the table closest to the kitchen side as she began to boil some water, pulling out two mugs from the cabinets. “When I was a child, I used to suffer from nightmares, well, I still have nightmares. I’m just old enough now that I can drink something a bit stronger. But back then, when my hair used to be blue, I’d make myself a hot cocoa”. As she finished explaining, she placed a steaming hot drink before you, topping off the sweet beverage with a squirt of cream and marshmallows.

Sitting down opposite you, she took a moment to let you settle in, feeling thankful that you cupped the drink and allowed your hands to warm as you didn’t shut her out.

“Do you ever think about how fragile we all are?” you asked after staring into the mug in your hands.

Natasha frowned, opening her mouth to make a sarcastic comment of ‘not really’ but refrained as she saw the seriousness in your expression. “What’s brought this on?” You didn’t answer at first, but she noted how you uncomfortable shifted in your seat, shoulders hunching forward to mirror how you sat moments ago.

It took her a couple of minutes, but then it all dawned on Natasha as she sat forward in her seat, leaning on her elbows on the table. “Does this have to do with what happened with the boss three days ago?”

She knew she'd guessed right From how your eyes flinched and teeth began biting your lower lip. Steve had been shot whilst out for dinner with you and Bucky. It had been a well-calculated attack, and no one blamed themselves more than Natasha did for not spotting the attacker before it was too late. She was his bodyguard and had yet to fail at her job, and even though it was a superficial wound and, thanks to Steve’s accelerated healing, was already just a pink scar on his abdomen, Natasha still cursed herself.

Steve didn’t blame anyone other than the asshole who shot him and had spent many hours with him the previous night, getting his revenge and delving into all of his secrets. He’d been more concerned and out for revenge due to the distress it had caused you to see Steve shot. Hysterical was putting it lightly.

You’d screamed until your voice croaked, cried until your eyes were swollen, and become completely overwhelmed by the situation, needing to stay by Steve’s side entirely without sleeping until yesterday evening when you’d all but passed out. With Bucky staying by your side, Steve was able to sneak out and finally get his revenge against the shooter, and when he returned, you were swift to motherhen him even though he insisted that he was practically healed and back to normal.

“Talk to me, Sweet. I can’t help unless you tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours”, Natasha encouraged, leaning across the table and grasping your hand.

You sighed, squeezing her hand back as you tried to find the right words to explain your feelings. “I just realised how useless I am. I mean, Steve was shot, and I completely froze; I think all I was able to do was scream. I didn’t even put pressure on the wound or hold his hand. After everything I’ve seen whilst being a part of this gang, you’d think I’d be more aware of intense situations and how to handle myself, but everything just flashed before me and how close I was to losing one of the men I love. And Steve - god, I’m so embarrassed! I’m too scared to look at him properly for fear of seeing shame in his eyes at how I reacted. I mean, what kind of a girlfriend am I to the infamous Steve Rogers, the leader of one of the most dangerous gangs in Brooklyn? I couldn’t handle something he’d been training me to be prepared for. He must have thought I was pathetic”.

“Do you really think I’d ever think that about you?” Steve asked from the doorway with Bucky over his shoulder, both looking defeated.

You were startled at his appearance, cursing his silent steps as you also felt somewhat vulnerable with him having heard your worries. “I, um, I didn’t want you to hear that”.

Steve sighed as he roughly rubbed his palm over his face and stepped further into the room. Natasha stood with a last squeeze of your hand before exiting and patting Bucky on the shoulder as she moved past him and out, leaving the three of you alone.

“Baby, you know I would never think any of those things of you. What happened was a horrible mistake, and I wish more than anything that you weren’t there to witness it. I always want to keep you protected, physically and mentally and trust me, if anything ever happened to you, I’d-” he closed his mouth, eyes clenching in a flinch like even just the thought of you being injured caused him physical pain.

Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulder, “The main point here is that you’re both ok. There’s no point dwelling on the past, and we all react differently when we see loved ones hurt, so I don’t want to hear anymore self-doubt coming out of your lips”, Bucky reprimanded whilst giving you a pointed look and pulling himself and Steve closer towards you.

You couldn’t help but squeal as he moved back your chair, turning it to face them as they each pulled their chairs close enough that their knees brushed yours. Steve cupped your hands, lifting them to his lips to kiss your fingers and palms. “Please don’t shut me out, and next time you have any anxiety over what's happened, you need to talk to me, Sweetheart”, Steve urged whilst maintaining eye contact that you didn’t break this time.

“I will; I’m sorry” Without missing a beat, you closed the distance and kissed him deeply as he wrapped his arms around your back, pulling your body into his lap so he could hold you close.

“God, you two are going to make me cry in a minute”, Bucky suddenly announced, leaning back in his chair and wiping away an imaginary tear from his eye. Steve rolled his eyes as he held you closer with one hand and reached out with the other for Bucky to take, which he did with a smirk, removing the now empty chair so that he could be knee to knee with Steve and place his metal hand on your lower back.

“As much as I love my life, I sometimes hate how dramatic it is”, Steve mused a second later as he kissed the side of your head.

“Mmm, I agree - shit, this drink is good”, Bucky half shouted as he drank more of the cocoa in the mug as you turned towards him with an amused smile. He looked at you and paused mid-sip, “This is yours, isn’t it?” he realised out loud before swearing and slamming the mug back onto the table. “Shit, sorry, I thought it was Romanoff’s. I’ll buy you a special treat on our way home, which I think we need to discuss, by the way”.

Steve sat up straight in his chair, causing you to move slightly in his lap as he gave Bucky a questioning stare, “What’s wrong with home?”

“Nothing’s wrong with home; why do you always assume the worst?” Bucky questioned with his head tilted to the side, catching your eye and winking before continuing. “I was just thinking that maybe the two of you need some special time alone tonight”.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere either”, you say quickly, not wishing to be separated from either of them.

Bucky’s fingers reassuringly added pressure to your back as he gently shook his head, showing the misunderstanding. “I didn’t mean it like that, Doll. I just meant maybe you two could have some fun together, and luckily for you two, I have something in mind”.

Bucky’s plan for you and Steve resulted in the two of you hours later being naked in your bedroom with him watching in a chair.

“Remind me why I’m handcuffed again?” Steve asked with a sarcastic drawl from where he lay in the centre of the bed, his head carefully resting on the fluffed pillows and both wrists handcuffed above his head around the bed frame.

“Well, you tend to be all dominate and in charge when you’re having sex, and I think our sweet girl needs some reminding that you’re ok, you’re safe, and what better way for her to do that than her to be in control of how she touches your body?” Bucky explains nonchalantly as he rubs a hand over his growing bulge in his underwear, the rest of his clothes in a pile on the floor.

“Ok, that makes sense, but why the blindfold?” Steve asked, tilting his head toward where Bucky was sitting but couldn’t see with the thick black cloth tied around his head covering his eyesight.

“Ah well, that's just fun for me; I get to watch our beautiful girl at work; you get to feel it. I mean, I need to have some fun tonight”, Bucky responded cheekily as you smiled whilst trying to adjust your weight from where you sat naked, straddling Steve’s chest.

“I’m um, I’m not very good at being in charge” You tried to hide the quiver in your voice, but instantly, your cheeks began to warm with embarrassment.

Bucky leaned forward in his chair, capturing your attention fully as he gave you a reassuring smile, “Like I explained, Sweetheart. All I want you to think about is your pleasure. You can get yourself off, fuck Steve, use toys, whatever you’d like to feel good but don’t worry about Stevie, boy; he can handle whatever you’re going to give him”.

“I sure as fuck can” Steve grinned as he rolled his hips, causing you to gasp and lean forward, putting your hands out onto his shoulders to stop yourself from falling.

“Hey! None of that now, Rogers. Just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride,” Bucky grinned, showing his straight teeth as it was your turn to roll your eyes before focusing your attention on Steve.

One of the reasons you were never the one to be in charge, other than you were submissive down to the very bone, was that you were unsure what to do. To Steve and Bucky, it seemed to come so quickly for them, knowing where to touch, the next move to have you groaning in pleasure, but sitting there staring down at Steve, you were unsure where to touch him or how to start. Do you just slide a few inches back and sit on his already hard cock? Do you suck his cock for a bit or jerk him off? But what if he came and you overstimulated him?

“I can see you are overthinking over there. Remember what I said; think about your pleasure only”, Bucky reminded you quietly.

Nodding your head, you took a moment to stare down at Steve, and the events over the last few days dawned on you. Even though he’d survived significantly worse in his life, you couldn't help but contemplate just how close to losing everything you’d ever dreamed of and needed. Having him here, beneath you, living and breathing.

Before you could lose yourself to the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over, you decided to clear your mind of those negative thoughts by lowering your mouth to his. The two of you released a breath simultaneously as Steve eagerly pressed his face firmly against yours, his head lifting off the pillow slightly.

It wasn’t a desperately messy kiss, full of tongues and saliva. It was a kiss that had the moment standing still as your hand rested over his heart, feeling the beat beneath, having the reminder that he was still here with you.

Pulling back from the kiss so that you were hovering over his face, you whispered intimately, “I love you”.

“I love you too,” was his instant response in the same calm tone, like a whisper in the wind.

Swallowing the emotional lump in your throat, you briefly pecked his lips once before trailing kisses down his chin and exploring the column of his throat, smiling as you felt him swallow beneath your lips. With your hands, you trailed your fingertips down his arms, feeling goosebumps lining his skin as you moved to meet where your mouth met his skin.

Slowly as you could, you kissed your way down his chest, making sure to lick and nip his peaked nipples, enjoying the little gasps he released as you contemplated that you’d never noticed how sensitive his nipples actually were. Further down, you moved as your legs shifted between him, making sure that his legs were spread so that you could fit between him perfectly.

As your lips continued giving open-mouthed kisses over his abs, you aimed for the pink scar close to his hip bone. The kiss pressed to the recently claimed gunshot injury that had even lightened in the shade since this morning with his accelerated healing. Steve’s legs tensed as he tried to refrain from thrusting his hips into the air as your breasts pressed against his thick length that you were attempting to ignore whilst worshipping his body.

“This is a cute moment and all, but I wanna see you cum already, Doll”, Bucky groaned impatiently as you looked at him over your shoulder as he sat with his hands clenched in his lap, as he continued to refrain from touching himself even though he was evidently very much aroused.

You smile against Steve’s skin and take one last breath of his natural body scent that had mixed with the spicy aftershave he’d used earlier this morning. Taking your time, you shift back to your original position of sitting across his abs, carefully sitting above the fresh scar that was still sensitive.

“I think I want to put these chiselled abs to good work”, you say whilst stroking a finger down them, laughing to yourself as Steve tensed, defining them even more solidly. Relaxing the position of your thighs, you sighed as your wetness now rested against his abdomen.

It wasn’t as satisfying as humping against his thigh because of the flat shape of his toned body, but that didn’t stop you from riding him slowly, making sure to really drag your clit in small circles against his body.

Your moans were breathy and gentle as your pleasure bloomed in your core, especially as Steve struggled to keep his emotions and body in heck beneath.

Licking his lips, he admitted, “I really fucking wish I could see you right now”.

“Oh, don’t you worry, big boy, she looks beautiful, there’s no doubt about that”, Bucky responded as he finally moved his black boxers to midthigh, his hand wrapped around his shaft as he matched the pace you were driving.

Deciding you needed something that had more definition than his perfectly sculpted abdomen, you shifted back down the bed until your cunt was flushed with Steve’s shaft that was hard and resting against his pubic bone. There was already a patch of precum that had pooled, and without thinking, you scooped it up with your finger and sucked the juices, savouring the musky saltiness.

“Holy shit”, Bucky cursed as his eyelids lowered in arousal.

Steve was trembling with restraint now as you began to slide your warm cunt against his shaft, making sure not to go over the tip as you wanted to savour the feel of his length first before fucking yourself on him.

In this position, you were quickly coating his cock in your juices, helping to prepare him for when you did want to sit on his cock, which, in fairness, would probably be soon with how horny you were feeling.

Faster and with more pressure, you ground down on his shaft until the burning in your core exploded, your cunt pulsing around nothing as you shivered through the sensation, breathing deeply with soft moans.

Leaning your hands on his chest, you shifted your hips forward, catching the tip of his cock against your pussy and continuing with the slow movements, not wanting to rush the adrenaline and burn that came with his cock thoroughly stretching your walls.

“So fucking tight”, Steve cursed, pressing his head back further into the pillow as the veins in his arms bulged as he restrained himself from easily snapping out of the handcuffs.

You couldn’t think of coherent words to respond, so sighed in satisfaction, taking a moment to savour the sensation. Eventually, though, the hunger for more became ravenous as you began to lift yourself off of his cock and then slam back onto him.

It was different riding him like this; usually, if you were on top, he’d either have a hand around your throat or his hands gripping your hips tightly and directing your movements. With all the movements being down to just your body, it was almost like having a life-size sex toy that moaned and breathed.

Additionally, it meant that you could really draw out the orgasm that was already threatening to suffocate around his cock as you rode him with slamming hips. Eventually, it all came too much, and with one hand on his chest and the other gripping your breast to squeeze the flesh, you had your second orgasm and a shiver of pleasure.

“You’re so fucking big”, you moaned as you attempted to catch your breath but settled for a different motion instead of riding up and down. Keeping your hips flush with his so that his balls rested against your arse, you began to circle your hips clockwise and then anticlockwise.

Steve gasped as his chest heaved with the attempt of arching his back. “Wait, Steve, shut up for a second”, Bucky demanded, and the three of you stopped making moaning noises, but you continued with your grinding and hip circles, which was when you could hear it too. The obscene sounds of your gushing cunt, sloshing and slurping with the movements. It felt incredible to be so full of Steve, but hearing how much this move was making him lose his mind only motivated you through feeling breathless.

“Holy shit, that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard, but if you keep doing that, I’m going to cum”, Steve grunted, his mouth hanging open so that his grunts of pleasure were unfiltered. Bucky was just as vocal from where he sat, getting himself off.

“I want you to cum; please cum for me, Sir”, you begged as Steve moaned at the nickname used. As his dick hardened inside of you, your fingers quickly began to circle your drenched clit matching the movements of your hips as you joined him by cumming at the same time, squeezing his shaft with your walls and milking his cock internally.

It felt unbelievably satisfying to feel the liquid filling you entirely and having no other room but to leak out of the sides and onto his pubic area. Your thighs have tightened so tightly around Steve’s body you were sure if he didn’t have his healing ability, you’d have caused bruises from where your knees had dug into his side.

He never complained once, though, as he tried to catch his breath just as desperately as you were. Slumping forward, your face rested against his chest, directly over his heart so that you could listen to the wild racing of his heart. You were exhausted from riding his cock, and for a moment, you determined the fantastic shape he was in was probably down to being on top all the time.

Your thighs and abdomen muscles ached as you determined you needed a little break from the riding but not from the orgasm, and even though you were feeling a little overstimulated internally, you were somewhat determined to see how far you could go.

Reaching blindly on the bed, you found the vibrating wand and moved it between your bodies until it rested against your clit. With Steve’s cock still somehow still hard, you remained with him inside of you as you turned on the vibrator.

Steve groaned as the vibrations were felt through not just his pubic mound but also your cunt as both were stimulated by the powerful toy. It wasn’t even on the highest setting, but it was enough to take your breath away at first, soon, you settled down, content with simply lying there until an orgasm built.

For a moment, you contemplated releasing Steve from his handcuffs so that he could wrap his big arms around you, but you knew that once he was free from those handcuffs, it would be a free-for-all.

One orgasm spiralled into two, and you had to push the vibrator away as the ache deepened within your cunt. You were exhausted and on the verge of becoming entirely too overstimulated for the orgasms.

“I- I don’t think I can cum again”, you admit whilst gently rocking yourself against Steve’s cock.

“Could I make one request?” Steve asks whilst licking his lips, his voice just as deep as it is when he first wakes up.

“Hmm?” you say in response.

“Sit on my face. I know you’ve had enough, you don’t have to cum, and if it hurts, I’ll stop, but I wanna taste you so bad right now”, Steve pleaded.

“How could I say no to that request”, you muse. Carefully and with a great deal of mess, you slipped off of his throbbing cock, which twitched in the air as his and your juices continued to drip out of your cunt and down his shaft.

With the way you’d climbed off, you ended up kneeling over his face so that you were facing down his body, staring and admiring his cock until the other man in the room caught your attention as Bucky kneeled on the bed.

Just as you lowered your soaking cunt onto Steve’s hot mouth, Bucky reached forward and began to stroke Steve’s cock. The mafia boss beneath you nearly choked on his own cum as he drank down the juices flowing out of you but soon found a rhythm, and as his hips rolled to meet the strokes of Bucky's metal fist, his tongue and lips matched this.

Reaching forward, you pulled Bucky in for a desperate kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, dominating in every way. With the taste of your cunt in his mouth and Bucky’s fist, Steve was cumming again as Bucky carefully caught the thick white seed in his fist, licking up every drop that Steveall but screamed out with his orgasm.

This time, you watched as his cock softened, and carefully you crawled off his face with the help of Bucky’s steady and damp hands. With Bucky’s lips against yours, he stated, “I know you’re not done yet, get back on him”.

Pulling back, you looked down at Steve’s clammy body and the pink blush that had hued over his chest as you determined, “Won’t I hurt him if I sit on his overstimulated cock?”

Steve answered for Bucky, “Fuck no, you won’t hurt me. Get back on Princess”, he pleads desperately. Turning back to face Steve, you try and angle his soft cock at your entrance, but it wouldn’t go back in as Steve cursed at the handling.

“Are you sure I’m not hurting you?” you asked fearfully.

“Yes, I’m sure just- I don’t know. Buck, grip me hard in your fist or something,” he responded, sounding frustrated with his body for a second. You had to bite your lip as Bucky shrugged and gripped Steve’s flaccid cock in his hand, causing the blonde to gasp and arch his back, nearly knocking you over in the process. “Yeah, just like that.”

“You know Steve, some would call you a freak for getting off on pain like that”, Bucky joked half-heartedly as his fist began pumping up and down the hardening cock in his hand.

“Yeah, well, you’re one to talk”, Steve sassed back as he finally became hard enough that you could slide back down his cock. “Just a warning if I cum again, I’ll probably be shooting air out”.

Again, you had to bite your lip to hold back the laugh from Steve’s admission. Bucky led beside the two of you, reaching over to tilt Steve’s blindfolded face towards him. “I thought you could go all night? What’s the point in having all of these special abilities if you’re already shooting blanks after two orgasms”, Bucky contemplated.

“Yeah, well, you have her sit on your cock and see how long you last, asshole”, Steve bite back earning a chuckle from Bucky as you watched them both fondly, trying to get to find a good rhythm to move your body, opting for a slow in and out and circle of your hips.

The soaking noises of your wet cunt began to fill the atmosphere once more as Steve and Bucky started to make out, dimming the noise of their moans. Bucky eased back and whispered into Steve’s ear, “Do you hear how wet she is? Best you can feel it, how sopping wet our girl is. Aw, poor thing she’s getting tired”, Bucky smirks as you frown at him. You were exhausted, but you weren’t letting that stop your movements, by the way, Bucky was winking at you, you knew he was up to something.

Steve gritted his teeth, almost growling as he contemplated his next move, and you realised Bucky was antagonising him as the next second, Steve’s snapping out of the handcuffs. You’re suddenly on your back in the middle of the bed as he rolls the two of you over.

Steve’s face delves into the crook of your neck as your legs are instantly pushed back so that your knees nearly brush against your chest as he completely crowds around you. Clearly having driven him to his limit, Steve did not hold back; he began to fuck you with unfathomably hard and fast thrusts.

His cock was a blur as it pounded into your drenched cunt. All you could do was cling to him, nails scratching into the skin of his shoulders and then up to his jaw, pulling his face back so that you could push his blindfold up that was still covering his eyesight. He blinked down at you, groaning at the sight beneath him as he kissed you feverishly.

You were stuck between kissing, moaning and trying to gasp for breath as your orgasm plummeted through your cunt until you were close to sobbing with the overwhelming emotions. Steve’s powerful body fucked you deep into the bed until he was deeply crying out your name with the trembling effects of his third orgasm. From the feeling of it, he definitely wasn't shooting blanks as more of his seed oozed out of your well-used cunt.

He remained on top of you for a while, his body keeping yours warm as you breathed one another in, but eventually, he was moved onto his side by a gentle hand of Bucky’s.

“Come on, big boy, I need you to move over so I can clean you both up”, the brunette explained as he sat on the bed with a warm washcloth. Steve sighed in contentment but remained with his arms around your torso as he observed Bucky clean up his sensitive flaccid cock.

As Bucky moved between your legs, you tiredly gasped, “Wait, you didn’t get to cum, Bucky”.

Bucky grinned up at you, leaning down to kiss your cheek as he explained, “Oh, don’t worry, I did, twice. You should see the back of Steve; think I might have got some in his hair as he was fucking you into next week”.

Steve quietly cursed before chuckling as he reached a hand behind his head, “Well, the sheets are thoroughly ruined for tonight then”.

#mafia au #mafia!stucky #stucky x reader #stucky smut #steve rogers x reader #mafia steve rogers #bucky x reader #steve rogers smut #mafia bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #marvel smut #bucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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biteofcherry · 1 year

Note

Does mafia!Steve's Reader ever get jealous? Maybe there's a businesswoman or mafia related one that Steve has to have meetings with and reader gets jealous?

Nesting

Not an inch away

mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings for the part below: some angst; soft!dark Steve Rogers; mafia!Steve Rogers; possessive behavior; arranged/forced relationship;

~ * ~

You shouldn't care. You really shouldn't, you tell yourself as you watch Steve open the restaurant door for that other woman to enter.

A woman that looks stunning in a body-clinging white dress and killer heels, not a single thing out of place in her confident persona.

She tilts her head and smiles at Steve, who reciprocates with one of his most charming smiles - one that gets you weak in the knees when he flashes it at you.

He told you he'd be home late because he has boring business meetings to attend to, so you talked your bodyguards slash enablers - Natasha and Yelena - to go to the movies and for some greasy food afterwards.

It's pure coincidence that the spot you picked for your snacking was opposite of a fancy restaurant to which Steve took this woman.

You know plenty of women have successful businesses, but you don't think a mob boss of Steve's caliber would actually do any business with one of them. In a romantic restaurant at that.

Natasha's face is perfectly impassive at the sight, but Yelena cringes as if she feels bad for you for seeing this.

You tell yourself that it shouldn't matter. This whole arrangement, one practically forced upon you after Steve found out about your pregnancy, is one you wanted out of at first, right?

The elegant, shiny ring on your finger, which you grew to love and often looked at with a fond smile, now reminded you of the cage Steve trapped you in. Gold, pretty cage.

With how intense and dotting Steve was, you actually believed the cage could become a warm house, with a faithful, loving husband.

Seemed you were going to become a cliche, instead. A wife to produce heirs to a mafia king, while he fucked around with whomever he desired.

Perhaps you should walk into the restaurant, make a scene, throw a drink in Steve's face. Throw it at that woman's white dress.

But you only clench your hands on the paper bag with takeout you bought to eat at home (your pregnancy is turning you into a bottomless pit). You straighten your back and keep your head up high as you march to the car and get inside, Natasha and Yelena slipping inside soundlessly.

Yelena tries to say something, explain Steve's actions, but you tell her you're not interested.

"I don't care." You announce as coldly as you can, quite proud that your voice doesn't crack with how hurt you feel inside.

At home you devour your food. And some chocolate muffins that you baked in the morning. Each bite as delicious as heavy, your stomach revolting with the bitter jealousy and anger at the thought of what Steve was up to.

Are they having a romantic dinner and smiling at each other across the table? Is he sliding his hand up her thigh and under her dress? Does he make her come silently in front of all the patrons?

Will he take her to a hotel room, or one of his apartments that he owns all around the city, and fuck her into a screaming mess?

Will he fuck her better than he did you last night... yanking a fistful of your hair as he wrecked you into a dripping mess and praised you, A good little wife, taking all of me so well.

Ripping apart another muffin, you decide on your next step. You know running away wouldn't work. For one, you have two guards, who may be friendly, but still were loyal to Steve and what he said triumphed over whatever you wanted.

Secondly, even if you managed to slip out, Steve would find you. And he'd drag you back into the cage and the life he builds with you beside him.

You can't leave the penthouse, but you can make yourself a safe space in one of the free guest rooms.

Since Steve's dipping his dick in other woman's cunt, he doesn't need you sleeping beside him.

You definitely don't want to touch him when he reeks of other woman's perfume. You don't even want to see him.

So after you drag most of your stuff from the main bedroom and hastily put it in the closet in your new room, you close the door. Just in time, because less than ten minutes later the echo of firm footsteps resounds.

You flip a book open, trying to focus on the printed words and not on the way your heart hammers in your chest as you hear Steve's footsteps aiming for the main bedroom.

A vicious part of you hopes that he is a shocked, seeing that you're not there.

Not in the huge bed, naked under soft covers, waiting for your husband lord and master to throw you a crumb of his attention.

The emotionally heaving part of you shudders in sobs at the image of Steve simply not minding that you're not there.

Maybe he's only a little surprised, but brushes it off and simply takes a shower to wash off the remnants of that woman's arousal and his own sweat. Then he'll get into bed and fall asleep sated, uncaring for your state as long as you obediently stayed inside.

You rub at your eyes, cursing the tears away. You shake your head and try once again to focus on the words you're reading.

But then, after a long stretch of silence, footsteps sound through the space. A creaking of door being open. Then another. Slowly moving towards where you are hidden.

Your heart rate increases, fingers trembling against the paper pages of your book.

You take a breath, willing yourself to remain calm and not show Steve how hurt you are. Play it the way mob bosses wives in movies and tv shows do it - cold and indifferent, an armor around you, so nothing can prickle you.

The door to your claimed room opens and Steve stands there in the doorway in all his stormy glory.

He frowns, seeing you sitting stiffly on the bed.

He walks inside. Sleeves of his suit jacket are pushed up, showing his forearms and twirls of tattoos. He braces his hands on his hips and gives you a look that's a combination of concern and blatant anger.

"Can you explain what's the meaning of all this?" Steve's voice is thick and raspy.

You swallow, but shrug nonchalantly as if his heated gaze isn't bothering you.

"I thought it's better to leave the main bedroom, in case you brought your companion home for the night." You say and return your gaze to the book, fighting the urge to wave him away with a dismissive gesture.

"What?" Steve's frown deepens, actual confusion showing on his face.

"I'm not sure your mistress would like seeing me there. Might ruin the mood." You lift your head and sneer at him. "So I simply made it easier for you."

"I have a mistress now?" Steve raises a single brow, remaining calm while everything inside of you was boiling.

You snap your book closed and slam in onto the bedside table. With a little huff you get off the bed and stomp over to Steve.

"No need to lie." You scoff. "I saw you. With her. Didn't know mob business meant taking beautiful women to expensive restaurants."

You push at his chest in anger, but Steve's strong, muscled body doesn't even sway at your outburst. So you push at him again, unsuccessfully, but at least you get to unleash some of your fury.

"Just do me a favor and don't bring any of your whores home once the baby is here. Stay in one of your apartments, or allow me to move into one."

You can't hold off tears anymore and as some pour out, trickling down your cheeks, you clench your hands into fists and slam them against Steve's chest.

Steve's fingers wrap around your wrists, a tight, almost painful hold that keeps your hands bound to his chest.

"You are not going away from me." He declares, a definite order.

His eyes darken, a flash of lethal danger he rarely directed at you.

"In any form." He ads, obviously meaning you switching bedrooms.

Slowly, Steve's face lightens up. Twinkles appear in his eyes and it makes another wave of annoyance surge through you.

He keeps your wrists locked in one of his hands as he uses the other hand to cup your cheek.

"Any moving you're going to do is along with me." He says and tries to lean his forehead against yours, but you pull your head back.

Steve sighs.

"Which is why," he forces you to maintain eye contact with him, "I had a meeting with Camilla. She's a real estate agent who works for me on renovating a house that I bought for us. For our family."

His words make you speechless. A house? Someplace where you'd feel more free and where your kids could run in glee.

Still, you remain suspicious. You want to assume it's just a crafty lie, you're sure Steve's good at those.

"The Infinite is a rather romantic place to talk construction." You narrow your eyes.

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. He lets go of your wrists to wrap both his arms around you, pulling you close to him despite your attempt to squirm away.

"Jealous little bird." He hums and slides one of his hands up to grip the back of your neck.

"In my line of work-" Steve leans closer, his nose tracing the line of your jaw, hot breath tickling your skin making you shiver-

"I manipulate people. Some with threats, some with sugar. And some, like Camilla, with never voiced promise of something they wish for."

Steve's soft snicker puffs across your cheek at your sneer. His lips travel toward your lips. You close your eyes at the intensity of his blue irises and the way your body reacts to the touch of his mouth against yours.

"A restaurant dinner gave her that little spark that will make her work her ass off to grand me all my wishes regarding our house. Even though not once have I even brushed an inch of her body with my fingers."

"It also happens-" the tip of Steve's tongue licks over your bottom lip, his hand starts pulling up the hem of your nightgown- "that I know how to manipulate my wife's body, so she sweats out all that jealousy and anger while she creams on my cock."

Your tiny, needy whimper makes him chuckle in dark victory.

"That what you need, huh?" He grips your buttock and kneads it. "Should I fuck you braindead every day, so that your mind doesn't come up with silly ideas?"

"It wasn't silly." You try to defend your earlier outburst, but it comes out breathy and weak.

"Thinking I could be interested in anyone else when I have your sweet, ripe body at my disposal. Absolutely ridiculous." Steve flashes you a wolfish grin.

He lifts you up suddenly, forcing your arms and legs to wrap around him. His fingers slide from your ass to dip between your thighs as he turns around and walks out of the room.

"You're coming back to our bedroom." He growls a command.

"I'm going to keep you naked and full of cum for the next few days, so it really sinks in that neither of us is stepping away from this marriage. Ever."

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #mafia!Steve Rogers #mafia!steve x reader #mafia steve rogers #mob boss steve rogers #steve rogers x you #nesting #steve rogers smut

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 19 days

Text

The Witch's Bodyguard

Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Bodygaurd!Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda is in need of a new bodyguard and you are called upon to fill in.

Word Count:

Warnings: None this is just a set up and establish chapter

A/N: I'm so glad you're all looking forward to this series!

Wanda Maximoff; sure you'd heard the name before. She was one of the top celebrities around. You didn't pay any of it much mind as you worked security at a gala. Your manager had asked you to work there since she'd be there talking about contracts with people. She had other bodyguards under her, but she always favored you.

“Y/N?” You hear your manager, Val, called out as you stand on the balcony making you turn towards her. Next to her was Wanda Maximoff, you'd seen her around talking with a handful of others like Natasha Romanoff and Kate Bishop.

“What's up Val? Everything okay?” You ask immediately going into guard mode. She chuckles a bit, putting a hand on your bicep.

“Calm down. Nothing serious. Miss. Maximoff here was asking about you when she overheard me speaking so highly of you.” You looked over at the ash blonde, you had seen earlier someone playing the trailer for her upcoming movie which explained the blonde instead of her natural brunette.

“Ma'am.” You gave a nice enough smile and held out your hand.

“It is very nice to meet you…” Her voice trailed off, leaving you to fill in.

“Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” She smiles and takes your hand. You see her eyes rake over you, assessing if you'd be a good fit. Currently you were wearing black army pants and a tight fitting black short sleeve shirt. As she looked you over, you swear you see her bite her lip.

“You said she's available, right?” Wanda looks away, back to Val, as if you suddenly don't exist anymore.

“Yes she's open right now. We can draw up a contract for you to look over if you'd like?” Val suggests earning a smile from Wanda.

“That would be lovely. Can it be ready tomorrow? My last bodyguard had to take a leave so I am I'm need of one as soon as possible.” You wonder what could have possibly happened for only a moment before your presence is being requested elsewhere through your ear piece.

“It was lovely to meet you Miss. Maximoff, but I'm needed in the main hall concerning a matter.” You take your leave with a smile, getting one back from both women.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You had woken up at 5am, done your workout, showered, and had breakfast before you were being summoned by Val for this new contract. Standing in the at home office with Val, Wanda, and a handful of lawyers and other important people from Wanda's team all gathered. You stood at ease behind Val wearing much the same as you were yesterday. Only difference was an army green shirt today.

“We need your signature Mrs. Y/L/N, can we get your signature?” One of the lawyers asked.

“It's Miss and yes you can.” The lawyer looked at the paperwork and Val then went back to you. “I told you to fix that, Val.” you hissed as you signed and initial on the lines indicated. You were used to this by now. You'd been through dozens of contracts with Val. You knew every word in the contract by now.

Your eyes flicked up to Wanda, feeling her eyes on you as you signed. It felt like she wanted to say something, but decided against it as you finished your signatures, pushing the papers back to the lawyer.

When everything was said and done most of Wanda's team left leaving just Wanda, Val, her manager Agatha, and yourself. There was small talk mostly of what it would entail. One of them being you'd be a live-in bodyguard for her. Sure Wanda had other guards, but you would be her personal bodyguard and she needed you at all times of the day.

You couldn't complain really. Leaving the old stuffy apartment you'd wanted to leave behind for a while now would be good. You didn't have to pay rent or anything. Food would be provided and you'd still be getting a paycheck each week. It was probably the best possible outcome you could have asked for.

“Well hire some movers to get all your belongings and bring them here.” Wanda spoke as you followed her down the hallway, her heels clicking on the hardwood. You took in the different pieces of artwork she kept around the house. Her home is mostly filled with white, gray, and blacks. The only splashes of color are scarlet hues every so often mixed into things such as a blanket or an accent rug. “This will be your room here.”

She opens a door to show off a rather blank room at the moment, but it's bigger than your whole apartment had been and it even has its own bathroom. You were a little in shock. This was a first for you being 24/7 for someone so you'd never stayed in any other celebrity's houses.

“Once we get your stuff here anything else you might need we can go get or order whichever you prefer.” You honestly weren't sure what to say.

“Oh thank you Miss. Maximoff, but once we get my things here I should be fine. I don't need much, honestly if I didn't have anything besides clothes this room alone would be enough for me.” She let's out a bubbly laugh at your statement.

“A minimalist. I like that.” She responds and you turn to fully face her.

“I did four tours in Afghanistan ma'am you learn to live minimally.” You tell her. She pauses a moment as if unsure what to say as she just looks at you.

“Straight out of high school?” She finally asks, but you have the feeling it wasn't what she really wanted to say.

“Yes ma'am. Did four tours and then met Val through a martial art class. I was trying to blow off steam in a healthy manner after coming back. We got to talking and she asked if I wanted to work for her. The rest is history.” You explain without giving away too much. You didn't like any one person knowing everything. She simply nods.

“Well if you need to grab anything we can go do that. Clothes, essentials, all the big stuff we can worry about tomorrow.”

“We?”

“Yes. You're supposed to stay close to me and if you need to grab your things then I'm going with you.” She says with a smile. Guess you were stuck with her now. At least she's nice. You've had to work with some people who aren't and you couldn't stand being around them.

“We can go whenever you're ready.” she tells you, starting to leave the room as you follow close behind.

“Ready when you are ma'am.”

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @rroyale-109 @wandanat01 @scarlizziee @nixxnsworld @snoozingredpanda @mrsromanovaa @sweet--escape17

#ley speaks #ley writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #actress!wanda #beefy!fem!reader #bodyguard!reader #bodyguard au #The Witch's Bodyguard #TWB

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togrowoldinv · 3 months

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The Bodyguard Pt. 2

Bodyguard!Natasha Romanoff x Actress!Reader

Natasha is tasked with being bodyguard to you and you two grow close. Maybe too close, but would she dare cross that line?

Note: The long awaited part 2 is here! Find part one here. I hope you enjoy it!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

“Rule number three: We can’t get too close to each other,” Natasha says. “I have to protect you with a clear mind.”

“Okay,” you say. “But maybe we could break the rules, Natasha?”

“Y/n,” Natasha warns.

“Come on Natasha,” you say. “Why fight this?”

Natasha stands up from the couch and paces back and forth in front of you.

“I have to step down,” Natasha says.

“What?” You ask, standing up. “You didn’t even cross a line! It’s okay, Natasha. We’ll pretend this didn’t happen.”

“I don’t think I can just pretend it didn’t happen, y/n,” Natasha argues. “I have to go. I’ll send a replacement.”

“Natasha!” You call after her, but she is already out of the door.

You sit on the couch with your head in your hands. Natasha drives to the office, fighting back tears of her own.

When she gets there, she finds Carol at her desk. She hands her your weekly itinerary.

“Nat?” Carol asks.

“Take care of her,” Nat replies. She begins to walk away, but Carol chases after her. She grabs her hand and turns her back to face her.

“What happened?” Carol asks.

“I got too close,” Nat shrugs. “We almost kissed.”

“Shit, I’m sorry Natasha.”

“It’s alright. I took an oath, you know. I can’t be her bodyguard now. You’re the next best one.”

“I’ll take care of her, Nat. I promise.”

Carol hugs Nat briefly before she reports to your apartment. You don’t greet her with near as much enthusiasm or politeness as you should. She doesn’t take it personally.

It doesn’t feel the same as she walks you to your car. You realize nothing will feel like being with Natasha did. And you didn’t even date the woman. You zone out on the way to the awards show you are to attend tonight.

“Miss Y/l/n, are you ready to go inside?” Carol asks you.

“I- I really don’t want to go in,” you speak truthfully.

Carol leans up and asks the driver to give you two a minute alone. He agrees and steps out of the car.

“Is this about Natasha?” She asks.

You whip your head around to face her. She wears a knowing look.

“She told you what happened?”

“She did,” Carol confirms. “I hate it for both of you. Nat was really happy, and she is never happy to be security for actors.”

“We got too close,” you sigh.

“What does that even mean?” Carol wonders aloud. “Life is too short to worry about being too close with someone, y/n. Sure, you two should suspend the professional partnership, but there’s no reason you can’t be with her.”

“You think so? She ran out before I could even ask her why not that.”

“You should try and talk to her again,” Carol suggests.

“I don’t even have her real phone number.”

“I have it on good authority that she will be here tonight,” Carol replies. She almost wears a smirk on her face. It reminds you of Natasha’s crooked smile. “And I’m pretty sure the world will be disappointed if their favorite actress doesn’t make an appearance tonight.”

You take a deep breath and straighten your dress. Carol gets out of the car first and helps you out onto the carpet. Cameras flash immediately, and you hear shouts of your name. It all feels a bit overwhelming.

“Just breathe and keep moving,” Carol says.

Your nerves settle as you do all of the required photos and interviews. Once you’re inside, you greet friends in the industry. You catch sight of Natasha out of the corner of your eye, but you don’t see her fully.

The ceremony is decently boring until there’s a loud blast. Before you can even process it, Carol is by your side and covering you with her body. You don’t feel any physical injuries. But it’s another person that lifts you up out of the rubble.

“Natasha?” You ask.

“It’s alright,” Nat says. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“Nat, you’re bleeding,” you say, recognizing the seeping red liquid coming out of her side.

“I’m okay.”

She carries you out of what is left of the building and to the emergency medical tents set up. Nat sets you at one of the tables and turns back towards the building. You reach for her to stay.

“You need help, Nat,” you say.

“Take care of her,” she instructs the EMT.

“Natasha-”

“I have to go get Carol. I’ll be back.”

She runs off before you can get another word out. It’s five minutes before you see her again. Nat is barely moving as she carries her unconscious friend over her shoulder. Clearly, they both sustained life-threatening injuries.

You rush towards where Nat lets someone take Carol from her. She falls to the ground in pain, finally.

“Y/n,” Nat whimpers.

“Help! She needs help!” You yell for someone.

The EMTs are quick to her aid, but she’s already passed out. You sit on the pavement and watch as they tend to her injuries. They tell you they have to take her and the other injured to the hospital. It takes forever to find a ride there yourself.

You burst through the doors and demand to see Natasha. A doctor stops you short of the restricted area.

“Hey, hey, who are you looking for?” The woman asks. She has to place her hand on your shoulder to stop you from barging past her.

“Natasha Romanoff,” you say.

“Okay. Let me find her chart.”

The woman takes forever to scroll through the tablet and find her name. It’s probably just seconds, but to you, it feels like hours.

“She is in surgery,” the woman answers. “I’ll take you to the waiting room, and someone can update you. Follow me.”

You follow the doctor to the waiting room and see a large group of other people waiting there. A lot of people were injured in this accident. Their heads turn when they see who you are.

“Shit,” you mumble to yourself.

You try to escape the crowd, figuring they would realize you’re not in the state to greet fans right now, but they surround you. The voices are loud and jumbled, but you hear one that is different. One that is helpful.

“Hey, come with me,” a woman’s voice says. You honestly don’t even care who it is as long as they get you out of this crowd.

She takes you down the hallway and scans a badge to the restricted area. You follow her into what seems to be a doctor’s lounge.

“My daughter works here,” she says with a smirk. “I’m Maria, by the way. Maria Rambeau.”

“Y/n,” you tell her.

“Yeah,” she says with a small laugh. “Who are you here for?”

“My- um- my bodyguard.”

“Must be some bodyguard if you care enough to be here,” Maria says.

You sit on the couch and close your eyes. You didn’t think you had any physical injuries, but your wrist is throbbing in pain. You sigh.

Maria types something on her phone and then makes you a glass of water. You accept it with your other hand and try to breathe. It isn’t long before another woman enters the room. It’s the doctor from earlier.

“Hey Monica,” Maria greets her. She pulls her into a hug. “How is she?”

“It’s touch and go,” Monica says despondently. “Oh, hi again.”

“Hey,” you say to her. “Can you check on Natasha?”

“Natasha?” Maria wonders aloud, mostly to herself.

Monica nods to her mother and pulls out her tablet again. She regretfully tells you there is no update.

“Can you look up my other bodyguard too? I know she was hurt pretty badly. I don’t know her last name, but her name is Carol,” you explain.

“Actually, that’s who I was just updating my mom about,” Monica says.

“You two know each other?”

“She is- well, she was my partner for a long time,” Maria says.

“Oh, I just met her today. She seems nice, though.”

“She is,” Monica pipes in. “I have to get back to work, but I’ll send someone to look at that wrist, y/n.”

“How did you know?” You ask.

“I can’t give away all of my secrets,” Monica jokes. And then adds, “Mom noticed actually.”

You crack a smile and Monica hugs her mom quickly before leaving the room again. Maria sits on the couch opposite you.

“What happened with you and Carol?” You ask. When she hesitates to answer, you say, “Sorry, I just can’t stop worrying about Natasha and wanted to get my mind off of it.”

“That’s alright,” Maria says. She has a comforting yet confident way about her. You can see her being with Carol. “It’s kind of the age-old story. Everything was fine until it wasn’t.”

“I get that,” you say.

“We were best friends, and then we were more. On perhaps the shortest break from a relationship ever, I messed up and got with someone else. Enter Monica,” Maria explains. “I wouldn’t change the fact that I have her, but things with Carol were different after that.”

She continues, “She never faltered, not really. But she wasn’t really as happy. She always had these big dreams. She had a lot of ‘I’m going to save the world’ attitude about her. And she couldn’t save the world if she was stuck in Louisiana with me and Monica.”

“Was it that you two weren’t enough for her?” You ask. “I don’t see myself as enough for Natasha, but I would still risk it all to be with her.”

“No, I think Monica and I were enough. I convinced her to move on though,” Maria says.

“Why?”

“Well, sometimes in life, y/n, you make sacrifices for the people you love.”

Your conversation is interrupted by a doctor coming in to look at your wrist. They explain it’s just a sprain, but they put you in a brace for comfort. Maria promises to wake you up if there’s any updates, so you let yourself close your eyes.

It’s a few hours later when she wakes you. You stand at the sight of a doctor in front of you. You don’t hear anything, but that Nat is okay, and you can come see her.

You follow the doctor down the hallway to her room. When the door opens, you notice how small Natasha looks. To your surprise, she is awake.

“How are we feeling, Ms. Romanoff?” The nurse that followed you in asks her.

“Better now,” Nat says, smiling at you the best she can.

“The pain medicine kicked in,” the nurse tells you. “You can visit for a few minutes but she’ll need to sleep soon.”

You nod. Then you’re left alone with Natasha.

“You’re hurt,” Nat says with a frown.

“Just barely,” you say. You make your way to her bedside. “You saved me.”

“I’d do it again.”

“The doctor said you should make a full recovery,” you tell her.

“And Carol?” Nat asks.

“I’m not sure, but I did meet her family,” you say. “Or I guess what used to be her family.”

“Maria?” She asks. You nod. “That’s good. They’re good for each other.”

“Are we good for each other?” You accidentally ask out loud. “Sorry. I was just hoping to talk to you before everything happened. I really want this. I really want you.”

Nat tries to process your words through the pain and medicine. It’s a lot right now.

“You don’t need to say anything right now, Natasha. Just get some rest. I’ll be here,” you say.

“Thank you for being here,” Nat says. “Do you think- um could you get in here with me?”

“In the bed? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me, y/n,” Natasha says. “Please.”

You oblige and settle against Nat’s good side. She didn’t say it, but you can tell by the way she rests against you that she wants this too.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #bodyguard!nat #actress!reader #natasha romanoff comfort #carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #maria rambeau #monica rambeau

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writerslittlelibrary · 17 days

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Mob!Natasha x daughter!reader headcannons

masterlist

a/n: I figured writing some headcanons was a bit less pressuring, and I enjoyed this so much! I’ll definitely be writing more headcanons in the future :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Mob!Natasha who found you when you were just a baby. She heard crying coming out of the closet after she had just killed her target. Turns out, he had already found his next victim, you. Luckily, Natasha was just in time to save you from that horrible life and raised you herself

Mob!Natasha who raised you in the safety of her Russian home. Protected, hidden, and far away from the dangers of the world

Mob!Natasha who only allowed Melina, Alexei, and Yelena to see and know about you the first 5 years of your life

Mob!Natasha who started training you for active combat the moment you could stand, wanting you to be able to protect yourself, should you ever end up being mixed into one of her ‘jobs’

Mob!Natasha who loves you more than anything in the world, getting you whatever you want whenever you want it, yet still making sure you’re not becoming a spoiled brat

Mob!Natasha who puts her trusted bodyguard, Bucky Barnes, on any and every outing you go on. You leave the house for a walk? You better count on the fact that Bucky is coming. You want to go shopping? Don’t worry, Bucky will simply come to help you carry your bags. You want to have dinner with someone? Bucky will simply sit a few tables away from you, giving you privacy yet keeping a close eye on you

Mob!Natasha who is terrified when your existence becomes known after you and her are spotted going for a little shopping trip. She will upgrade her security everywhere, putting multiple bodyguards by your side every time you leave the house. Of course, she still trusts that Bucky is the best at keeping you safe, but just to be sure, you get a few more of her men

Mob!Natasha who sometimes allows you to sit in on her meetings, letting you sit next to her, or on the ground, whichever you prefer. It’s not like any of the people she is meeting with can say anything. That is if they want to keep their lives of course. Sometimes, if you forgot to bring something she will slide you her notepad for you to doodle on, or she’ll just stop the entire meeting and order one of her men to fetch you whatever you wish. She gets to decided how her meetings go, of course

Mob!Natasha who knows you adore her henchwomen more than anything. Your personal favourite is Natasha’s assistant, Maria. You know her and your mom have some more going on. You are not blind to the lingering touches and the sneaky looks they send each other. Of course, you are a big fan of Carol. She is just so cool and nice to you, even though she can kill someone with basically a glare. To you, she is the sweetest human on the planet

Mob!Natasha who knows you adore your aunt Yelena more than anyone on the planet. Because of that, she makes sure Yelena gets the opportunity to visit more than enough. Everytime Natasha has to leave for a slightly bigger ‘job’ she simply calls Yelena to keep you company. Natasha knows you don’t need a babysitter anymore, but she likes the idea of you not having to be lonely. Besides, it is much safer for you to be accompanied by your aunt Yelena

Mob!Natasha who knows how much you adore playing board and cards games, so she told her people to never deny you a game, were you to ask. Luckily, you mostly gravitate towards Carol and her girlfriend Valkyrie, and who were they to deny you a game? They loved your company, and they loved playing your card games with you

Mob!Natasha who, when you start dating someone, runs thousands of background checks, does hundreds of checkups throughout the day, and makes sure to give whoever you decided to date a little talk, letting them know exactly what’s waiting for them were they ever to hurt you

Mob!Natasha who had the best private tutors coming to your home to teach you everything you needed to know, giving you the highest level of eduction you’d ever need

Mob!Natasha who knows that you are financially set for life, but who still allows you to go to college if you would ever want to. Of course it would be an expensive, high security private school, but still

Mob!Natasha who takes you on the multiple holiday trips during the year. You want to go to Spain? Pack your bag because Natasha will have planned a trip next week. Obviously you both will simply take her private jet, but she needs a week to book some fancy holiday home for you two to stay at

Mob!Natasha who, despite her fortune, often books small, low budget holiday trips. Everyone knows those small holiday homes are the best and the cosiest. What kind of mother would Natasha be if she didn’t give you that experience?

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @hor1zond1ar1es @lorsstar1st @superlegend216

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natrogersfics · 3 months

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Blinding Lights - A Romanogers Oneshot

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3 Set in the So It Goes... 'verse

Torment.

If Natasha had to choose a word to describe the first few days following her glorious night with Steve, it would be just that – complete and absolute torment.

In her attempt to return to some semblance of normalcy, she jumps at the chance to be consumed by a never-ending barrage of emails and back-to-back meetings, but it is all in vain. The memories are all too novel. She could be neck deep in work, and all it takes is one glance at Steve before she’s immediately inundated with images of him pinning her down onto her desk, the scenes of how he had owned her body in the most delicious of ways flashing in her mind like a filthy highlight reel.

Then there’s the way he shows up at her door every morning. It wasn’t in any way different to how he’s shown up for the last year, but now she’s grown attuned to it. The sound of his voice is something she finds herself looking forward to hearing as she sits at her kitchen island, sipping her cup of coffee. She can’t always make out the words, but she can tell from the light-hearted tone that regardless of which member of his team was keeping vigil at her door that night, that they are always happy to see him. It’s then as the voices fade that she waits with anticipation, listening to the pad of his footsteps until there’s a light rap against the arch of her kitchen. His grin is boyish and lopsided when he sees her, giving her an unspoken confirmation that she’s under his watch now, and that’s enough to put a little spring in her step as she gets ready for the day.

Day. Night. It didn’t matter. Thoughts of Steve lingered with her, sticking to her like the most exquisite of perfumes. It’s why she makes it a point to never think too far ahead. To stay in the moment with whomever she’s meeting with. This week she’s been organizing a fundraiser for the orphanage, and with everything from invitations to menus to review and approve, she couldn’t be more thankful for the distraction.

Come the end of the week, she pats herself on the back for only letting her mind drift to Steve twice during her last meeting. As she exits the conference room with Wanda, Red Guardian’s Head of Marketing, she’s greeted with a nod by Sam, her daytime bodyguard for the day. Steve had informed her yesterday of his impending absence, citing a contract negotiation with a new client. And while there was a part of her that was disappointed that she wouldn’t be seeing him until later on, she also found herself relieved for the brief separation. Steve’s errand was a reminder that not only did he have his own business to run, but also that he, too, had something at stake if she didn’t get this misplaced longing of hers in order.

Sam follows behind her and Wanda as they make it down the hall, and as they’re about to head in separate directions, she places a hand on Wanda’s arm. “Send me videos of Billy and Tommy’s performance this weekend, okay? I can’t wait to see them in their costumes!”

Wanda beams at the mention of her boys. “I’m so excited,” she says, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “I got extra storage for my phone and everything.”

“They’ll do great, I’m sure of it.”

With a final smile, she waves goodbye to Wanda before heading into the awaiting elevator. As the car heads up to her office, she catches the way Sam’s hand reaches up, tapping on his earpiece. With how quiet Sam’s voice is, she can’t quite make out what he says, but a part of her wonders if he’s reporting back to Steve at their HQ. Stop. With a shake of her head, she flushes the thoughts of Steve from her mind just as the elevator comes to a halt and the doors slide open. Get it together, Romanoff.

Sam opens the door for her as they reach her office. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime, Miss-” Sam pauses when she arches a brow at him, a sheepish smile breaking out on his face. “Natasha.”

“That’s more like it.”

As she enters her office, she’s immediately greeted by the sight of Loki waiting for her. She and Loki had met when they were just teenagers in boarding school, the two of them bonding over their mutual hate of the cliques that were quick to form on campus and the occasional pack of cigarettes. His company, Mischief Inc., is notorious for organizing the most extravagant bashes in the nation, and the second she had selected her first initiative as CEO, there was only one person in her mind to call.

Loki waves from his seat on the couch. “Hello, darling.”

“So nice of you to wake before the sun goes down,” she says, smiling at the nonchalant shrug he gives in response as he rises to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“You call, I come running,” Loki says as they both settle on the couch. “I’m easy like that.” She rolls her eyes playfully, prompting him to chuckle. “But I have to admit, ever since your assistant sent over your proposal, I’ve been intrigued.”

“So you’ve read it, I take,” she says, ever grateful for Daisy’s efficiency.

“Read it?” Loki says, scoffing. “Darling, the team’s already working on the interiors as we speak.”

Excitement rushes through her. When she had submitted her proposal to the board, she had highlighted the need to bring in fresh clientele to their properties. While her parents had built an empire on selling the luxury experience at their flagship hotels, they hadn’t done the best of jobs at making sure that evolved with the times. Now that she’s at the helm, she’s made it her mission to change that – starting with revamping the rooftop lounge at the Red Guardian Las Vegas, the company’s hotel overlooking the Strip that hasn’t been putting up the numbers it used to. The plan is to install an invitation-only nightclub, to have prospective patrons clamor to partake in the most coveted, if not borderline hedonistic, experience in the City of Sin. Admittedly, it’s a ballsy first initiative to take on, but she believes in her vision, and if there’s one person she knows that can help her bring it to life, it’s Loki.

“This is going to be epic,” she says, unable to keep a smile from breaking out on her lips.

“It’s going to be the talk of the town,” Loki concurs, scooting forward to reach for his tablet. “Though I hope you don’t have any other large commitments coming up. We have our work cut out for us if we’re going to make the grand opening in five weeks.”

Loki’s threat of long hours and endless days is one she welcomes with open arms. In her view, this nightclub opening is an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone – providing her both with a means to further prove herself to the board and a distraction from all her thoughts of Steve. From the thoughts of his hands on her body, roaming all over. Of all the dirty promises he’d whisper in her ear as he took her hard and deep, clearing her mind and relieving her of every burden, making her feel as though her desires weren’t so… ignoble.

And there, she realizes, is another issue she’s been avoiding. While her night with Steve had shown her what she truly craved, the fact of the matter is she’s always been curious. Vanilla had never really done it for her, and while she’s always wanted to venture out, there’s a part of her that’s always been ashamed of it. As if there’s something wrong or inappropriate about positioning herself as the capable and driven face of an esteemed Fortune 500 company during the day, but wanting to be taken, all consumingly, in the bedroom at night. It’s a dichotomy she cannot quite reconcile, nor find a partner she trusts enough to help her do so.

Until last week, that is.

“Earth to Natasha.” Loki waves a hand in front of her, chuckling when she shakes her head to focus. “Did you wander off to a different universe?”

If only. “Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night,” she says. “You were saying?”

There’s a touch of suspicion in Loki’s expression as he regards her. “As I was saying,” Loki says, “if we’re expecting our guests to be high-profile individuals, the security here needs to be airtight.”

“Steve’s team can do it,” she says before she can even think twice about it. “At least, I can talk to him about it. See if they have the bandwidth.”

“Ah, yes,” Loki says, craning his neck as he looks around her office. “And where, may I ask, is your broody shadow lingering today?”

“He’s not here,” she says, taking in the way Loki’s brows lift in surprise. “Work errand.”

“A work errand? That’s oddly vague,” Loki says, smirking. “If I had to guess, the man probably had a long night with a-”

“Steve runs a business just like you and me, Loki,” she interrupts before her friend can go any further. “He has a duty to his team to secure the best deals that he can. But even if that’s not what he’s doing right now” – she shakes her head, swallowing down the unsettling feeling that’s suddenly washed over her at the thought – “what he does in his private life is no one’s business but his.”

It's strange, if not a touch troubling to her, how protective she suddenly feels of him. While she already knew that he laid claim to the most mischievous parts of her, she’s only now realizing that he’s wormed his way into the softest, most delicate aspects, too. How or when that happened, she isn’t really sure.

Across from her, Loki just shrugs. “Even so, you have to admit, the man is easy on the eyes.”

With that, she couldn’t argue.

It’s as she’s walking Loki to her door later on after they’ve settled on next steps that her friend turns to her, catching her by the elbow. “Is everything okay, Nat? I make light of it, but don’t think I haven’t noticed how dialed-in you’ve been in the last few days.”

“I’m fine, Loki,” she says, sighing when he stares knowingly at her. “It’s the new job, is all. You know how it is.”

While her explanation is only a half-truth, it didn’t make it any less of a fact. Loki and his sister, Sylvie, had jumped through hoops to prove to their own father that they were worthy of running their own company. If there’s someone who understands the burden of a new seat at the top, it’s him.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Loki laments, his expression softening. “Just don’t work yourself to the ground, all right? Unwind every now and then.” A smirk crosses his lips as he adds, “However you would like to.”

“Get out of here,” she says, the two of them sharing a laugh as she gives his shoulder a playful shove.

Loki leaves with a wink, and as the door to her office clicks shut, she slumps back down on the couch. While she had many siblings, it’s only with Loki that she’s felt that familial bond with. Loki was her first true confidant, and while she wishes she could tell him her current predicament, there’s a part of her that just isn’t ready. And it's not because she feared his judgment. In her heart, she knows that if she ever told Loki how she would prefer to unwind, he would be the last person to shame her. What she needs to grapple with here is herself. Specifically, her lack of acceptance of the part of herself that wants another surreptitious escape with Steve. For him to put her on her hands and knees and pull on her hair as he brings her to her crest. And then after, to do what she wishes he had that night, which was to scoop her into his arms, take her to her bed, and kiss her until they both drifted off.

Her hands come up to her face as she groans, longing for all these things – all these things that just don’t seem to go together. And, more importantly, the very things she can’t have with him.

With a huff, she sits up. Maybe she couldn’t get a grasp on that version of her, but she could focus on the one she actually had a handle on. The version of her that was brought up to run this company, to take care of the people who kept this well-oiled machine running. She reaches for her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she finds the number of her favorite bakery.

By the time she hangs up, she’s scheduled two cakes to be delivered to Wanda’s as a congratulations for her boys. The task isn’t much, but on a day like today, she counts completing it as a win.

By the second week, her yearning begins to taper. She wishes she could say it was because glancing Steve’s way didn’t make warmth spread across her chest any longer, but in reality, she’s convinced it’s only because wanting him has just become part of her personality as much as craving success and liking the color red has. But she has a grip on it enough that she and Steve resume their Wednesday ritual at the gym, and though she has to put in extra effort to remember to breathe every time he touches her to correct her form or demonstrate a new maneuver, she’s glad that the physical exertion wears her down enough to let her drift off once she’s finally made it to bed.

Her imagination, on the other hand, has been a completely different story. It’s as vivid as ever, running amuck, and as Steve accompanies her to her various functions, she sometimes catches herself wondering what it would be like to not only have him be the man looking out for her, but also the man on her arm, supporting her.

Much like she’s doing right now, as he follows close behind her as she enters the double doors of the ballroom of The Empire, Red Guardian’s crown jewel in New York. The fundraiser for the orphanage has barely started, but the room is already brimming with guests, and she need not glance back to know that Steve’s eyes are already surveilling the room, looking for possible threats and taking stock of exit routes.

“Miss Romanoff,” a young albeit tall brunette greets with a smile. “Thank you for joining us. May I take your coat?”

“Please,” she says, shedding the candy red coat she’d thrown on for the evening. “Thank you, Kate.”

Kate smiles at the recognition, handing her a coat check tag before ushering both her and Steve further inside. The ballroom is abuzz with conversation and the voice of a blues singer crooning softly, the air laced with a mix of expensive cologne and the most decadent of hors d'oeuvres. At the center, couples pack the dance floor, covering every inch of it that, if not for the fact that she had done the final review of the details for this event, she would be none the wiser about its existence.

She takes in their swarmed surroundings, turning to Steve with a smile. “Everyone’s here.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, and she realizes it’s because he’s fixated on her dress – taking in every detail of the strapless number she had selected for the evening, the white material adorned with red, pink, and yellow petals as it cinches at her waist and falls just a few inches above her knees. When his eyes finally meet hers, she swears his gaze looks darker around the edges, and she has to look away briefly to calm the little flutter she feels in her stomach.

“Yeah,” Steve finally says, “turnout looks excellent.”

“Daisy sent me an update on the donation figures just before we got here. We’ve already topped last year’s haul for the orphanage and the night’s barely begun.”

Steve’s lips quirk up in a smile. “It’s really great what you’re doing for them. That place, those kids… they’re lucky to have you as their advocate.”

“I was lucky to have that place,” she says. “I always go back to the first moment I met Alexei and Melina. That… hopefulness that they’d choose me. And then to find out that they did?” She sighs. “I just hope all of those children get to experience that.”

“With the help of your work, they will,” he says, prompting her to smile. “And for what it’s worth, your parents were always going to choose you, Nat.”

She eyes him skeptically. “You seem oddly sure about that.”

“Believe me,” he says softly, “resisting you is the hardest thing in the world.” An effervescence spreads across her chest at his words, but before she can respond, a waiter stops by their side, offering them both a glass of champagne. She takes one flute off the tray while Steve politely declines, and it’s only when they’re alone once more that he leans forward, his hand finding the small of her back as he whispers in her ear, “Has anyone told you how sexy you look tonight?”

Want races through her veins, hot and heavy, as she takes a sip of her drink. He’s so close to her now that she can smell his aftershave, and she knows that if she turns to look at him, it’ll take nothing short of a miracle to not pull him in. It takes her a second to find her voice, but even when she does, it’s lower than usual. “First I’m hearing of it.”

“This dress…” His hand flexes behind her, his touch light as a cloud as he caresses the fabric. “It’s almost as beautiful as the woman wearing it.”

A shiver runs down her spine. Breathe, she reminds herself, looking out into the distance in an attempt to steady her thrumming pulse. As she does, she catches a glimpse of one of the couples on the dance floor, the woman’s eyes falling shut as the man pulls her even closer to him, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Do you ever wish that were us?” Steve turns slightly at the question, following her line of sight. “Because I do,” she confesses, looking at him now. “All the time.”

His growl is quiet as his eyes find hers, but she hears it just the same. “Natasha…”

“Natasha! There you are.”

She’s not sure whether to be frustrated or relieved by the interruption, but she does not get much time to ponder her answer because the second she turns, she finds Eleanor Bishop, one of Red Guardian’s long-standing board members, approaching.

Steve takes a step back from her, and quickly, she plasters on a smile. “Eleanor, hello.”

“Marvelous event,” Eleanor says, gesturing towards the room.

“Isn’t it?” she says. “We inked a new events partnership with Mischief Inc. recently. They’ve done a phenomenal job.”

“As have you,” Eleanor says, scoffing when she begins to wave off the praise. “I know a Natasha Romanoff event when I see one, so don’t you even. Many people would have gawked at the idea of waiving the rate for the ballroom tonight.”

“Short-term loss for long-term gain,” she says with a shrug. “Any smart business person would’ve done it.”

“Oh, honey,” Eleanor says, all but scoffing. “When everyone’s out to make quick money, that’s just not true.”

“Eleanor, I can assure you that under my watch, Red Guardian will be focused on the long game.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Eleanor says. “I can’t wait to see what you do out in Vegas.”

She’s in the middle of sharing more plans for the upcoming opening when Eleanor abruptly excuses herself, muttering something about keeping her fiancé in check. As they part ways, she continues to move through the room, Steve never more than a few steps behind her as she stops to mingle with the various guests in attendance, charming her way through the conversation until whoever has their checkbook out doesn’t even realize they’re adding another zero.

It’s as she’s just finished listening to yet another venture capitalist opine about their new super yacht that her eyes wander across the room, landing once again on the couples on the dance floor. She zeroes in on the pair whispering sweet nothings to one another as they sway. Taking in the woman’s heated gaze as the man pulls away from her, she can only wonder about their exchange. If he had suggested that they leave, promising to worship her the second they were out of sight. The thought makes her shudder.

“Natasha, are you okay?” She hadn’t realized just how closely Steve had been following her until his question prompts her to spin around and nearly collide with his chest. Concern paints his features, and she takes a step back. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m fine,” she says, shaking her head as if that will set her right. “Excuse me, I have to run to the ladies’ room.”

When she slips into the bathroom, she checks each stall, and content with the confirmation that she’s alone, she stops in front of the sink, staring at her reflection. “Fuck,” she mutters, flipping the tap on and running her wrists under the stream before letting out a frustrated sigh. One man shouldn’t be able to throw her off-kilter this way, especially not after a single night. She’s Natasha Romanoff. Against the odds, she has proven to a board full of vultures that she, and not her spiteful siblings, is the rightful successor to their father. That she can lead and take charge of the largest real estate portfolio known to man. When it comes to business, she is fearless. She knows what she wants and she isn’t afraid to do what she needs to do to get it. Certainly, she’s more unflappable than this.

Just not, apparently, when it comes to the man she wants – the very man she can’t have.

That fucking dress was going to be the death of him.

That’s the only thing Steve can think about as he follows Natasha out of the ballroom. Her coat is draped over her shoulders again, but it doesn’t matter. He had gotten a good enough look as he watched her chat her way through the room tonight, the damn thing clinging to her body in all the right places that if he hadn’t already studied the building’s blueprint last night, he’d be seriously concerned about his ability to execute his duties.

For the last two weeks, he’s succeeded at keeping a relative distance from her. That is, settling for being close enough to protect her, but not as close as he truly wanted to be. And he gave himself credit for that. When it took every ounce of restraint he had to keep himself from pulling her in every time she so much as glanced his way, that little smile playing on her lips, he counted remaining rooted in place as a win. When every time she sat in a meeting that went on a little too long, her mind drifting off slightly as she tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the glass of the conference table – reminding him of the way those same nails had dug into his scalp as he buried his face between her thighs, making her cry out – he took his ability to bat away the memory as a sign that maybe, just maybe, they could pull off going back to business as usual.

All those minuscule wins of his, erased by one intricately stitched piece of fabric.

As they approach the elevator bank, he’s reminded of the remark he’d made in the ballroom earlier, of how beautiful her dress was – of how beautiful she was. He had meant every word, and while he didn’t regret letting her know just how stunning she looks tonight, he still chastises himself internally for placing himself right on that slippery slope.

“What time does your shift end?” Natasha asks, stopping short of pressing on the elevator’s call button.

He glances briefly at his watch. “Your night guard should already be in the lobby.”

“Guess that means you’re off the clock, then?”

“Technically.”

Natasha chews on her bottom lip. “Have a drink with me?” she asks, and taking in the skeptical look he knows crosses his features, she adds, “We can talk about Vegas.”

Every bone in his body tells him to say no. He’s already faltered once tonight. Surely, adding alcohol to the mix isn’t going to make it any easier for him to prevent himself from doing so again. Instead, he should head home, dive right back into the stack of paperwork he has on his coffee table. Or better yet, head to the gym. Go a few rounds in the ring until he’s expelled every image of her in this dress from his mind and every drop of desire he has for her from his body.

But that would be futile. He knows this for a fact because ever since that night, that’s all he’s been trying to do. But Natasha Romanoff is under his skin, and he hasn’t a clue how to get her out.

He must have stood there silently for too long because before him, Natasha suddenly shakes her head. “You know what? Forget I said anything,” she says. “You must have plans-”

“I don’t,” he interrupts, surprising them both. “I’d love to get a drink with you.”

The smile that breaks out on her face is infectious as she turns to call up the elevator. A few seconds later, the doors ping open, and he follows her inside. “Rendezvous at the top floor, Northeast corner,” he says into his earpiece as the car begins to ascend.

He hears the response within a split second. “Copy that. Heading your way.”

Natasha arches a brow. “James?”

“Clint.”

“I didn’t realize Clint put in nights as well.”

“We do our best not to put him in rotation,” he says, “but with his wife and kids out of town, he said the quiet in his house was driving him crazy.”

They both chuckle at that, and in that moment, it occurs to him that maybe this is what he needs to focus on to ensure he is on his best behavior, to remind himself that there are people like Clint who have a family to support. That there are people whose livelihoods depended on him and on his ability to run this operation just like every other contract they have.

There’s a hum in the air when they arrive at the rooftop, and as the maitre d’ escorts them further into the back, his eyes scan the room. All around, patrons huddle in their own little alcoves, conversing and sipping on top shelf liquor under the dim lighting. They settle at a private table in the back, and as Natasha slides into the booth, he spots Clint stationed by one of the pillars. With a nod at his colleague, he follows behind her.

“Thank you for agreeing to cover Vegas, by the way,” Natasha says once their server sets their drinks down.

“Pretty sure I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he says, reaching for his Scotch. “You’re the one bringing the added business to us.”

“I know you don’t like to be away from your dad for long, is all,” she says, her finger circling the rim of her Vodka soda. “And like you said, Clint has a wife and kids. Sam has a sister and nephews. James…”

“Has a dog,” he fills in for her, nodding when her brows shoot up in surprise. “Roscoe.”

She giggles, the sound making his own lips curl in a smile. “For some reason, in my mind, I always thought he’d be a cat person.”

“Don’t be fooled,” he says. “He may act all aloof, but deep down, he enjoys that Roscoe needs him.”

“Noted,” she says, still grinning. “Regardless, thank you. I know you all give up a lot to protect me.”

There are many reasons why he craves this woman the way his lungs crave air, but it’s this, the kindness and compassion she has for everyone around her, that sits atop of the list. “You’re worth it,” he says softly, watching as she looks down in an attempt to hide the flush that colors her cheeks. “Besides, I’m sure the old man wouldn’t mind having a few days off from me nagging him to hit the gym.”

“You are a hardass at the gym,” she says, chuckling at the withering glare he shoots her way. “Have you ever been to Vegas?”

“Once,” he replies. “The scene over there isn’t really my thing.”

Her eyes light up with intrigue, and she shifts closer to him. “What is your thing, Steve?”

He stills when he feels the slight brush of her thigh against his, but the answer to her question comes to him almost instantly. You. But that’s not an answer you give your client. It’s not even one you give to a friend. So instead, he brings his drink to his lips, taking a sip as he contemplates his response.

“Consistency,” he finally says, “whether that’s with how I execute a job or how I go about my workout plan. Now, some people” – he smirks when she tips her chin up in challenge, her eyes narrowing at him – “find that stringent, but I think it helps me appreciate the outcomes more.”

Natasha’s gaze travels from his face, to his shoulders, and then down to his arms. “Trust me, you’re not the only one that appreciates those.”

“Natasha.” It’s the second time he’s said her name in warning in a matter of hours, but it’s a frivolous one at best, and they both know it.

Guilt races through her features. “I’m sorry,” she says, bringing her head to her hands. “I don’t mean to make your job any harder than it already is.” She sighs. “It’s just the last couple of weeks… They’ve been a struggle for me.”

“Hey,” he says, moving even closer to her, his hand falling to where the hem on her dress falls above her knee. He’s playing with fire now, but he’ll be damned if he lets her think that she’s alone in this affliction. “It’s been hell for me, too.”

“Doesn’t seem that way,” she whispers, and it kills him, how genuine the look in her eyes is as she stares up at him. As if keeping away from her could be anything but agony.

“Looks can be deceiving,” he says, running his thumb across her skin as he leans in. “How can I not be in hell when the mere thought of you…” He shakes his head. “Has me hard every goddamn time, Nat.”

Her glossy lips part at his words, her chest rising as she takes in a breath, and the only thing he can think about is how much he wants to lean down even further to trail kisses down the column of her throat, to nip at her pulse in the way that drives her crazy. His other hand tightens around his glass, so much so that he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his grasp.

Her eyes are brimming with desperation when he leans away, and he doesn’t need a mirror to tell him that his own are, too. “But nothing’s changed, has it?”

It would be so easy to tell her she’s wrong. To pull her in, and once and for all, end this mutual misery they’ve apparently been cohabitating in for the last two weeks. It’s all he wants, and yet, the truth remains. He sighs. “I’m never going to stop needing you to be safe.”

The way his words cause sadness to cloud her eyes is nothing short of devastating. Nevertheless, he finds that he means every word just as much, if not more, than when he first said it at her place that night. Only this time, doing what he has to do – the right thing – has become that much more difficult because he can feel his will dwindling, slowly but surely unraveling at the seams. It’s one thing to want to map every inch of her body, to lose himself in her in some vain attempt to satiate his need to know every bit of her sumptuous frame. That’s the easy part. What isn’t easy is the fact that he’s now certain he wants her mind and soul just as much, too.

The waitress brings them a fresh round of drinks, and that seems to be enough for them to leave the subject at that. They spend the next hour talking about anything else – Vegas, the latest documentary he’s been into, her sadness over her favorite bodega closing down. Somewhere along the way, they move onto scrutinizing their fellow patrons, creating stories about them and playfully placing bets on how their nights will end.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t actually bet any money,” he says later on when their drinks are just about done, nodding in the direction of a woman bidding a man goodbye two tables down. “They’re not going home together.”

“Yeah,” she says, looking their way. “Looks like you win.”

“I guess I do,” he says quietly, even when he knows that couldn’t be further from the truth. When he wants her as much he does, not being able to have her feels like the biggest loss there is.

If affirming his need to keep her safe that night at her fundraiser was supposed to do anything, making wanting her any less was apparently not on that list. In the week that follows, Natasha’s schedule grows brutal in a way it’s never been since he’s come to work for her. With the opening of the nightclub and their impending trip to Vegas nearing, she’s all business as she and her friend and business partner, Loki, comb through every detail as thoroughly as they can. Despite that, as he shadows her from one commitment to the next, he finds himself longing for her more than ever.

It frustrates him if only for the fact that it doesn’t make any sense. If she’s not in a meeting, she’s shuffling across town trying to get to the next one, all while taking calls and shooting out emails in between. She barely has time to scarf down the lunch Daisy adamantly insists she eats everyday, much less talk to him. He hasn’t a clue what it is about seeing her this way that makes his mind continue to wonder about things it shouldn’t, but it does just the same.

Every single time she’s gotten her way in a meeting, the second it’s over, he’s wanted nothing more than to push her up against the wall of her office. When she presented the final plans for the Red Room – the name for the nightclub that she and Loki had settled on – he felt his heart just about ready to burst with pride seeing her win over even the most skeptical of board members. Then, at the end of each day, as she sits in the back of the SUV, nearly drifting off in exhaustion as they head back home, it’s only by a feat of strength that he’s kept himself from reaching out to her, from pressing his hands into her tense shoulders and dusting a kiss to her neck.

Hindsight being what it is, he realizes how superbly idiotic it was of him to think that giving into her once was going to miraculously get her out of his system. While she had become the star of his fantasies only shortly after he met her, now that he knows what she tastes like and what it feels like to have her in his arms, those images have only grown more crazed in his mind, more specific. And no matter what he does, what he forces himself to remember is at stake, he cannot, for the life of him, get her out of his head. His entire existence has ostensibly become a practice in resisting her, and for the sake of his sanity, he opts to take it one day at a time instead of wondering about just how long he can continue to withstand it all.

Days before they’re set to leave for Vegas, he follows Natasha into the elevator of her building. It’s two hours later than when they had intended to get back, but given how the last week has gone, he’s hardly going to complain.

“Daisy, I don’t care if he offers to unearth the Strip and carry it to the lobby,” Natasha says into her phone just as he leans back against the rail and the doors slide closed. “We’re keeping the guest list tight, so please tell Mr. Hammer that if he insists on taking every person in his entourage, Tao at the Venetian is very much still open.” With a thank you to her assistant, she hangs up, and in seconds, she toes off her heels, moaning in relief as her feet sink into the plush carpet. “Oh, thank God.”

“Natasha Romanoff without heels on,” he says, a smirk crossing his lips. “Someone alert the press.”

Despite her exhaustion, she manages to chuckle. “Be glad I’m too tired to hit you right now,” she says. “Besides, nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Well,” he says, bending down to pick up her shoes. “If I remember correctly-”

The words die at the tip of his tongue the second he scoops her heels up by their straps, his throat growing dry as he takes in the shining black leather and the thin yet sky-high stilettos – the very same pair she had worn when he had let his desire for her topple his self-control. When he looks up at Natasha, the heat in her eyes is enough to tell him that she, too, is thinking back to that same night, all those weeks ago.

“Didn’t have to take them off then,” she whispers.

As she says that, he’s reminded of the way these heels had dug into the surface of her desk, screeching against the wood as he hiked her legs up and his fingers delved into the hot clutch of her body, making her keen. He swallows at the memory. “No,” he says, his voice sounding strained as he slowly, and almost hesitantly, hands her shoes back to her. “No, you didn’t.”

The elevator dings, signaling their arrival on her floor, and he nearly huffs out a breath of relief as they both exit. As he’s done every night, he walks her to the door of her suite, only this time, as they both linger outside, it’s as though the frame looms large.

Natasha leans against the door, her hand falling to the knob. “Steve…”

The way she says his name, like an invitation back into their lustful bubble, causes his hands to ball at his sides. “Natasha.”

His body aches with want as he stands before her, his hands desperate to curl around her hips and pull her flush to him. He wants nothing more than to kiss her breathless, carry her inside, and spread her out on her sheets, bound and begging – the way he knows she likes. The way he knows they both crave. And with one twist of the knob and a step inside, he could make all of that happen.

But then there would be the aftermath. Unlike that first night, he doesn’t think he has the wherewithal to walk away. Because he knows now that it’s not just sex with her. It never was. When all is said and done and they're both sated, he’ll still want the rest of her, too. And that’s something he knows he can’t have.

It’s with that thought that he lets out a wistful sigh. “You look great in those shoes,” he says, his eyes drifting to where they’re still dangling from her other hand before looking back at her. “And if it’s any consolation, you’ll be wearing them when I get home, too.”

The last thing he sees as he turns to leave is the way her lips part, her green eyes glimmering with unbridled desire. And as he makes his way back down the hall, he finds himself inwardly cursing. He’s not sure who it is that said time makes everything easier, but one thing he knows for certain is that whoever it is, is a bald-faced liar. All these weeks haven’t made resisting Natasha any easier, not one bit. It’s harder. So much harder.

The nerves hit her a few days before the opening. It’s subtle, so much so that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s spent all this time watching her, it probably would be imperceptible. But from his seat across the aisle from her on the Red Guardian jet, he sees it – the faraway look in her eyes as she stares out the window, her fingers mindlessly twirling the charm dangling from her bracelet.

“Thank you,” he says when the attendant comes up to him, setting down the drink he’d requested. As she leaves, he picks up the cup and rises from his seat to make his way across.

Natasha looks up as he approaches, arching a brow in question when he places the drink in front of her. She peers under the lid to check its contents. “It’s tea.”

He settles down on the seat across from her, doing his best to keep from smiling at the way her lower lip juts out in a pout. “It is.”

“If I wanted to drink wet potpourri, I would just take the pouches in the lavatory,” she says, pushing the cup away from her before crossing her arms over her chest. “I’d rather have-”

“Watermelon Sour Patch Kids,” he finishes for her, shaking his head when her face lights up. “I know, but sugar will only make the jitters worse.” A mix of surprise and what he thinks might be embarrassment colors her expression, prompting her to look away. “Hey,” he says softly, scooting forward in his seat. “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing,” she says, watching the clouds float by the window. Eventually, she looks back at him, sighing when she finds him still waiting patiently. “I don’t know, I guess there’s just a lot riding on this opening, and now that it’s almost here…” She shrugs. “I just really need this to go well.”

"And it will.”

“You don’t know that. Not for certain.”

“Yeah, maybe I don’t have a crystal ball.” He sighs in concession. “But if the last few weeks are anything to go by, what I do know for certain is that you’ve dotted every I and crossed every T that you can,” he says. “Now it’s time to trust your process. Watch it all play out.”

“Logically, I know that…” she says, resting her hands on the table in front of her before smiling. “I suppose patience has just never been my strong suit.”

“Now, even I know better than to answer that when you have a cup of steaming hot liquid within reach.”

“That you gave me, no less.”

“Clearly, I could learn a thing or two from you about decision-making,” he says, causing them both to chuckle. “Seriously, though. Everything will work out, you’ll see.”

“Yeah,” she says, her tone growing wistful as she quietly adds, “I wish they were here, though.”

There are days where she’s so prolific at masking her grief that it’s difficult to remember that that tragic day wasn’t so long ago. But as he looks at her now, the pain in her eyes clear as day, he’s reminded of how fresh the wound still is, and, as his own experience with loss has shown him, how it will continue to be for quite some time.

“I know it could never be the same,” he says, reaching forward to catch the oval charm of her bracelet between his thumb and forefinger – the same one that her mother had handed down to her when she was younger, and the same one she now keeps a picture of her parents in. “But they’ll always be with you, Nat.”

She nods at that, smiling softly and taking the charm into her own hands as he leans back into his seat. “Hey, Steve?” he hears her call out a beat later. He looks at her, eyes questioning. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “I know you’re technically working, but-”

“Natasha,” he interrupts. “There’s no place I’d rather be than right here, watching your six.”

There’s a flutter in his chest as she looks down, her hair falling around her face concealing the smile that was already breaking out on her lips.

“Don’t you think this is a tad overkill?” Natasha says as they sit in the back of the SUV enroute to the hotel.

He looks to see her eyes panning from Sam, who’s behind the wheel, and then to Bucky in the passenger’s seat. His lip part to respond, but Bucky beats him to it. “It’s really more for Steve. Wouldn’t want him to get his ass kicked out there.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans as everyone laughs, glaring at Bucky through the rearview mirror as the man smirks in response. He turns back to Natasha. “And since we’re going into new territory this week, the answer is no, it’s not overkill.”

“I guess you’re right,” she says as she looks forward, her brow suddenly arching in what he thinks might be amusement.

It’s as Bucky mutters a curse that he finally looks out the windshield to see the hotel come into view, a swarm of photographers forming a sea of flashing lights right in the roundabout leading to the front entrance of the hotel.

“Jesus,” Sam says, “I thought the opening wasn’t for another three days!”

“It isn’t,” Natasha says, completely unfazed by the scene as she lets out a little chuckle. “Fellas, may I introduce you to Loki Laufeyson’s penchant for everything grandiose and dramatic.”

He presses his lips into a line. “Sam, circle around back-”

“It’s fine,” Natasha says, placing a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure?” he asks, surprised. In the past, she hasn’t cared for the cameras, much less when she’s just trying to check into her own hotel. “We can get you through, but that’s a circus.”

“Normally, I’d say no,” she admits. “But this is all part of Loki’s media coverage plan for the opening. All press being good press and all that.” And then, cracking a smile, she adds, “Unless, of course, you think I’m too hideous to be photographed right now.”

He scoffs at the notion, turning to Sam. “Stay the course.” At his behest, Sam turns into the roundabout, the cacophony of clicks and rumbled voices growing louder as the car comes to a full stop by the entrance. “Vultures,” he says, more to himself than anyone else as he slips his aviators on. With his hand on the door handle, he looks back at Natasha. “Stay behind me, all right?”

“Lead the way,” she says, and despite the ruckus surrounding them, the smile she gives him is so confident and trusting that he can’t help but crack a smile too, momentarily forgetting his annoyance at the situation.

He exits the car first, nodding at the bellhop that motions towards the trunk and finding himself thankful when he sees that someone had at least thought to cordon off a path to the entrance. With the assurance that there’s a clear lane forward, he turns to reach his hand out to Natasha to help her down. The clicks and flashes intensify the second she steps out and into the view of the photographers, and it’s only when he sees Bucky slot in a few steps behind her that he begins to forge his way inside.

“See, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Natasha teases the second they clear the lobby.

“Still harder than slipping through the back door.”

She sneaks a glance at Bucky. “Is he always such a Debbie Downer?”

“Oh, he can do that all day,” Bucky says.

He narrows his eyes at them both. “If the two of you-”

“Look who finally decided to show up.”

He turns towards the sound of the interruption to see Loki making his way towards them, the man looking ever dapper in a perfectly tailored suit and slicked back hair. “Took you long enough,” Loki says, pulling Natasha into his arms.

“Well, I would have gotten here sooner, but someone unleashed a jungle on my front lawn,” Natasha says as they pull away, jokingly shooting Loki a withering look before pointing her thumbs at him and Bucky. “You may or may not owe these two an apology.”

“Gentlemen, my apologies for making your jobs harder this afternoon,” Loki says, sounding sincere in spite of his light tone. “All a necessary evil, I’m afraid.” He gives Loki a single nod in acknowledgement, and if the man is at all bothered by the curt response, he does not show it as he turns his attention back to Natasha and points towards the elevator bank. “Shall we? Sylvie received some last minute documents from the contractor. There are a few things I wanted to go over.”

Natasha nods, and as she and Loki huddle over a tablet, their discussion already beginning, he leads the way towards the elevators. He’s about to press on the call button when the doors slide open, revealing a single occupant standing at the center, and quickly, he catalogs the stranger’s appearance – taking in everything from his lanky physique to the ruby red lenses of his spectacles that gleam underneath the fluorescent lighting.

The man takes in the scene before him, a smile suddenly breaking out on his face. “Natasha?”

At the mention of her name, Natasha looks up from the screen. “Matt,” she says, her eyes lighting up in recognition. “What are you doing here?”

He watches as the man – Matt, he reminds himself – steps out of the elevator, and he has to move slightly to the side as Matt comes to stand in front of Natasha, leaning down to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

“I had a conference that got postponed at the last minute,” Matt says before looking at Loki. “I was about to dive into some new cases until I saw that Loki sent over an invitation for the Red Room’s opening this weekend.”

He watches as a tinge of surprise paints Natasha’s features, but in a flash, she blinks it away as she turns to smile a little too sweetly at Loki, who shrugs nonchalantly in response. “Far be it for me to gatekeep a good time.”

“Well, I’m glad you could make it,” Natasha says as she turns back to Matt. “It’s been a while.”

“So am I, and it really has. It’s so good to see you,” Matt says before eyeing the rest of them. “The added audience notwithstanding.”

His brows furrow at Matt’s comment, and it is only Natasha’s chuckle that prevents a dagger of a glare from completely forming in his eyes. “I like to keep good company,” she says. “Matt, this is Steve Rogers and James Barnes. Their team will be running security for the opening.”

“We also provide round-the-clock security for Ms. Romanoff,” he says, giving the hand Matt stretches out to him a firm shake.

“I see,” Matt says before placing a hand on Natasha’s arm, his voice growing quiet as he adds, “Is everything okay, now? I know for a while there…”

He’s not sure why Matt’s words only stoke his mounting annoyance – the man is showing concern for Natasha, after all. And yet, something about this person being privy to something so personal about her makes him feel as though there’s a steel ball lodged in his chest.

“So far, so good,” Natasha says, shifting to meet his gaze for the briefest of moments as she adds, “helps to know someone’s watching your six.”

His lips threaten to quirk upwards in a smile at her words, and he looks away in an attempt to hide it just as Matt hums in response. “I’m glad things are looking up then,” Matt says before glancing at his watch. “I was actually just headed out to meet a few friends, but is there any chance you two are free for dinner?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Natasha begins. “There’s just-”

“We’ll be there,” Loki pipes in, prompting Natasha’s head to whip to him suddenly.

“We can even have it here in the hotel restaurant,” Matt adds, as if sensing Natasha’s reluctance. “That way, you two can get back to work right after.”

Loki beams. “Then it’s settled, we’ll see you this evening.”

“Great,” Matt says before glancing at Natasha once more. “It was great seeing you, Tash.”

“You too, Matt.”

Quickly, he presses a knuckle down on the call button, prompting the elevator doors to slide open once again. He walks in, situating himself in the corner with his back to the wall. Tash?

Bucky mans the panel, and the second they all filter in and the doors close, Natasha turns to Loki, her green eyes glaring. “What the hell was that about?”

“What was what about?” Loki replies all too nonchalantly.

“You know what,” Natasha insists, crossing her arms over her chest. “We barely have enough time as it is, we certainly shouldn’t be wasting it on some dinner.”

“Oh, relax, will you,” Loki says. “I know we have an endless list of things to double and triple check before the opening, but surely even we have to eat.”

“That’s what room service is for.”

“We might be here for business, darling, but it wouldn’t kill you to live a little.”

The ensuing smirk that finds its way to Loki’s lips causes his shoulders to tense, and he watches as an exasperated look paints Natasha’s face. “Loki-”

“Matty Murdock has always had a thing for you, and you know it,” Loki says before she can finish her protestation, and from where he stands, he has to shift on his feet. “And from what I remember of you two in boarding school-”

“Matt is married, ” Natasha says, and he nearly breathes out a sigh of relief at her words.

“Not as of six months ago,” Loki volley back, and he catches the way Natasha takes a step back in surprise at the news. “Look, I’m not telling you to start anything back up with the man, but we are in the City of Sin.” There’s a glint in Loki’s eyes as he suggestively adds, “Have some fun with the handsome devil.”

If Natasha responds, he does not hear it through the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He looks up at the glowing numbers above the doors, watching them increase with every floor they pass as he bites on the inside of his cheek. While tight spaces hadn’t been a worry for him before, it’s as though the walls are closing in on him now, his chest feeling as though there’s a weight bearing down on it.

The telltale ping of the elevator snaps him back, and the decision comes to him in a flash, his eyes immediately finding Bucky’s as everyone begins to exit. “You got it from here?”

Bucky blinks at him for a second. “Sure…”

“You’re leaving?”

He looks to find Natasha staring at him, a touch of worry in her expression. “Clint wants to go through the security plans a final time.”

“Oh, okay,” she says just as he hits the button for the lobby. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Might be awhile,” he says, “but Sam will be in for the night shift.”

He doesn’t wait for her response, nor does he see it as the doors close and he turns to lean his forehead against the wall, letting out a long and winded sigh.

“That Ossobuco was the best I’ve ever had,” Loki says as he sets his utensils down on his empty plate. “No wonder the Venetian hates you so much.”

Natasha smirks over her wine glass. It took a lot of convincing and a more than generous compensation package, but her first win in her quest to revamp this hotel was poaching the chef of the Venetian’s Michelin star restaurant away, and if Loki’s comment and the seemingly endless waitlist to get a reservation is any indication, the move’s already paying off in spades. “If they valued their assets enough, they would have paid them what they’re worth.”

“Ever the shark,” Matt says teasingly, smiling at her from across the table.

Next to her, Sharon scoffs. “Are you surprised?”

While she’s known Loki and Matt since her very first day at boarding school, Sharon had become part of their fold when she enrolled a few semesters later. Nevertheless, her spunky, devil-may-care attitude made them fast friends, and while they’ve endeavored to keep in touch, dinners between the four of them have been few and far in between with Sharon running her consulting firm out East. It’s only by a stroke of luck that Sharon’s visit to the country had coincided with the Red Room’s opening.

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Matt says, tipping his glass of bourbon towards her. “Eat or be eaten, right?”

“You know it,” she says, leaning back against her chair as they all share a laugh.

Despite her initial misgivings about this dinner, she’s glad that Loki had all but dragged her to attend. With the Red Room’s impending opening, her nerves have been frayed, and she’s glad for the temporary reprieve the last few hours have brought her as the four of them reminisced about what a handful their quartet had been back in their adolescence. All things considered, it’s nearly a perfect night.

Nearly.

Her eyes wander towards where Steve stands a few feet away, his hands behind his back as he keeps an eye on their surroundings. She didn’t quite know what to make of his abrupt departure this afternoon, or even if there’s anything to make of it. While she had grown accustomed to him accompanying her throughout the day, it’s not as though it’s been written in ink. He, too, had a company to run, and if Clint had something to discuss with him, then that’s something he should be able to attend to without her being overcome with some semblance of dread over his absence.

That’s the reality, and yet there’s a part of her that she can’t quite ignore – the part of her that senses that something’s not quite right. She was glad to see him eventually return, knocking at her door at six on the dot to escort her down to the restaurant. Even so, a silence lingered between them. It’s unusual given that if there’s anything that came easily to them since day one, it’s always been the conversation. And she knows it’s not due to Loki’s added presence, either. Steve’s never been reticent around her friend before, and she doesn’t believe there’s any reason for that to change now.

If nothing else, his sudden lack of words is jarring when just this morning, she thought they had shared a moment on the jet when he had helped alleviate her concerns about the Red Room’s opening and the absence of her parents. What’s shifted since then, she can only guess.

“What’s the deal with you and your bodyguard?”

Sharon’s question interrupts her thoughts, and when she blinks to focus, she sees that her friend has a brow arched at her in question. She steals a glance in front of her to see Matt and Loki engaged in conversation before turning back to Sharon. “Excuse me?”

“The gorgeous dreamboat that follows you around all day,” Sharon clarifies before nodding in Steve’s direction. “You’ve been looking his way ever since we got here.”

“I’ve been looking in that direction because we got intel that the woman seated in the table in front of him is a columnist from La Liste,” she says, reaching for her wine. “Her review could literally make or break this restaurant, so I’ve been trying to gauge her reaction.”

“Are you ever not working?” Sharon quips, to which she only shrugs unapologetically. “So, there’s nothing going on between you and…”

“Steve,” she finishes for her. “And, come on, Sharon, we work together. He’s the head of my security team.”

“And that’s a problem because…”

This time, she’s the one that quirks up a brow. “Do you fraternize with any of your consultants?”

“None of my consultants look like that,” Sharon counters, prompting her to roll her eyes in response. “Do you know anything about him then? Specifically, if he’s seeing anyone?”

“I don’t know,” she says, and she finds herself bothered by the fact that it’s the truth. Sure, they shared a night together a little over a month ago, and while they’ve been sneaking lingering gazes and errant touches in the weeks since, she realizes that she doesn’t actually know what goes on after he leaves. What she does know for certain though, is that the idea of him with someone else feels like a punch to the gut.

“It’s really just work between you two then,” Sharon muses before chuckling. “I have to hand it to you, Romanoff. You’re a better woman than I could ever be. Because if I had someone like that following me around all day?” She shakes her head. “I would get to know him very, very well.”

“Different strokes for different folks and all that,” she mutters, reaching for her drink.

“You wouldn’t mind me getting to know him then, would you?”

Her glass freezes midair at Sharon’s question, and, more saliently, at the suggestive smirk on her friend’s lips. Every cell in her body wants her to tell Sharon the truth – that yes, she does mind. She minds very much. Only, she knows she has absolutely no right to. Steve isn’t something to lay claim over, and even if that were the case, he still wouldn’t be hers. He couldn’t be. And that’s why, despite the unease that settles over her, she plasters on the best smile that she can muster. “Since when do you ask for permission anyway?”

“That’s true,” Sharon says, chuckling as she brings her glass to her lips, downing the rest of its contents in one go.

It’s as they’re saying their goodbyes at the end of their meal that she watches as Sharon makes a beeline for Steve, extending her hand out to him.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met,” Sharon says. “I’m Sharon Carter, Natasha’s friend.”

“Steve Rogers,” he says, smiling politely as he shakes her hand. “I’m-”

“The head of Natasha’s security team,” Sharon says, smiling. “She mentioned.”

If Steve is at all impressed by Sharon’s response, she doesn’t see it as Matt comes up to her, a little grin playing on his lips. “So, I was wondering…”

“I’m pretty sure those exact words got us into a lot of trouble way back when,” she quips, eliciting a laugh from Matt.

“Luckily, things have changed a bit since then.”

“Have they really?”

“Hey, I did say a bit,” Matt says before shaking his head. “Anyway, back to that thing I was wondering about… Any chance you’re still very much into ballet?”

She smiles. “Always.”

“Perfect,” Matt says, his face lighting up, “because there’s a show tomorrow at the Smith Center. Come with me?”

“Oh, Matt,” she says. “I would love to, but-”

“But nothing,” Loki interjects, draping an arm over her shoulders. “She’ll be there.”

She looks incredulously up at Loki. “The opening is literally the night after tomorrow.”

“So Sylvie and I will handle the final run-throughs,” Loki reasons. “If anything comes up, we’ll give you a ring. Hand to God.”

“I don’t know…”

“What if we play it by ear?” Matt suggests. “I know you’re busy, but if by the end of the day tomorrow, you happen to find yourself with some time to spare, the offer will still stand then.” He shrugs. “Give me a call, maybe?”

Even with Loki’s offer to cover the rest of the final arrangements, she doesn’t need to check her calendar to know that her schedule is brimming tomorrow. Nevertheless, the unadulterated sincerity in Matt’s tone makes it difficult for her to outright refuse. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll let you know.”

Matt beams. “Perfect.”

The silence is suffocating as she and Steve stand in the elevator as it ascends onto her floor, and as it bleeds into their walk to her suite, she finally turns to him. “Is everything okay?”

Steve shrugs. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Ever since you left in a hurry this afternoon, you’ve been off,” she notes, catching the way he steals a glance at something over her head. She looks back to see that Sam is already on the other end of the hall, the man dutifully staring forward, presumably to give them some semblance of privacy. With a sigh, she lowers her voice. “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is.”

A litany of emotions paint his face, and for a moment, she’s hopeful that he’ll finally let her in on whatever it is that’s been bothering him. Instead, she’s disappointed to see him shake his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not,” she says, feeling a little like she’s just been slapped in the face. She turns to continue walking, but sensing his presence still behind her, she looks back at him. “Sam’s down the hall. You can go now.”

She doesn’t bother to check his reaction – if he even has any – as she begins to make her way to her suite. Once inside, she leans back against the door, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.

“Comms check. Confirm eyes on Red. Over.”

“Affirmative,” Steve says. “I have eyes on Red.”

As Clint acknowledges his response, he looks back towards the sea of flashing lights just a few feet away, watching as Natasha smiles for the cameras with one hand poised at her waist. Behind her, the logo of the Red Room glows crimson, providing a stark contrast to the jet-black two-piece number she had selected for the evening.

To say that his breath had gotten caught in his throat when he knocked on her door this evening to escort her to the rooftop would be an understatement. The second she pulled open the door of her suite and he laid eyes on her, for a beat there, it’s as though he had forgotten how to breathe altogether. From the deep V of her sleeveless blazer that showed off her perfect, alabaster skin to the satin dress pants that accentuated her shapely legs, there was no question that her suit was tailor made for her. She had kept her makeup light for the evening too, settling for darkened lashes that somehow made her green eyes look brighter and a light pink gloss on her already luscious lips. He isn’t certain how she managed to look both ethereal and still every bit the powerful CEO that she is, but just the sight of her was almost enough to make him forget the tension that’s built between them since arriving in Vegas.

Only, he can’t, and as he spots Matt making his way up the red carpet towards Natasha, pulling her in for a hug once he reaches her, he remembers why. As Matt and Natasha pose for pictures together, he shifts his weight on his feet, doing his best to prevent a scowl from forming on his face. Truth be told, if there’s tension between him and Natasha now, he knows he had precipitated it. To see her interact with Matt in the lobby when they arrived – that is, to witness the familiarity Matt had with Natasha and her life – was one thing. But once he caught wind of their history as Loki had all but encouraged Natasha to seek Matt out while they were in town, the very idea of Natasha with someone else had caused a hot streak of jealousy to singe its way down his entire being. Misplaced as the emotion was, he knew he needed to get out of there, which is why he had made up some lame excuse about having to meet with Clint.

A walk had done wonders to calm him down. With his emotions in order, he had found the courage to make it back to her floor in time to escort her down for dinner, fully intending to apologize to her for his behavior once he got the chance. But as luck would have it, as they were leaving the restaurant, he heard Matt ask her to the ballet. If she had accepted the invitation happily, he doesn’t know. Before he could hear her reaction, Sharon, her friend, had come up to him to introduce herself.

Not that it mattered. By the time he and Natasha had made it to the elevator, that unsettling feeling had returned to his gut, and though he felt terrible about the hurt look that crossed Natasha’s face at his curt response to her question about what was bothering him, all he could focus on was the idea of her potentially spending more time with Matt. But his premonition hadn’t been wrong, it seemed. By morning, when Daisy had emailed Natasha's agenda for the day, he saw that she had the entire evening blocked out for the ballet.

If there was any saving grace, it was that he wasn’t her night guard. And while he thought that avoiding the sight of Natasha and Matt together would provide him some sort of reprieve, his mind had other ideas. He had thought to sublimate at the gym, but it was to no avail. It didn’t matter how many times he pounded his fists into the sand-filled bag before him, no amount of force could exorcise the images of Matt peeling Natasha out of her dress from his mind.

As he focuses his attention back towards the carpet, he watches as Natasha begins to walk towards the entrance of the Red Room, and he grits his teeth when he sees the hand Matt places on the small of her back. With a sigh, he turns to follow them. He’d lost count of the number of night watches he’d done during his tenure in the Army, but somehow, something tells him that this night would shape out to be the longest of his life.

“What’s Red’s shithead of a brother doing here?”

From his position by the bar, he looks towards where Clint is stationed up on the balcony, his arms resting against the metal rails as he keeps an eye on the teeming crowd from up above.

“Which one?” Bucky asks from somewhere by the dance floor.

Sam scoffs. “Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” Clint concedes, “but I hope his business acumen is better than his dancing. If not, Red’s really holding this entire family up.”

“He’s here because he can’t resist a photo op and because the board doesn’t want the press to know that there’s a rift amongst the siblings,” Steve says, his tone clipped. “And keep the line clear.”

As a cacophony of apologies fill his ear, he mutes his microphone before huffing out a breath. There’s a part of him that knows that he’s being unfair to the team. His foul mood has nothing to do with their banter – usually, their snarky back-and-forth made working shifts like this fly by – and all to do with the fact that he chose to be in the field today of all days.

The thought is one he finds himself lamenting as he turns his gaze to his left, to where Natasha is sitting on one of the oversized couches, nursing a Martini as she chats with Loki and a group of their friends. Matt sits next to her, one arm draped around the back of the couch, and he doesn’t miss the way the man’s fingers caress Natasha’s bare shoulder every now and then. Much as he’d like to look away, he can’t. Regardless of how much the sight causes his blood to boil, it's his job to watch her. Even so, every single time he catches the gesture, he can’t help but curse his inability to stay put. He could have been the type of business owner that kept to balancing the books and negotiating their contracts, but because he’s physically incapable of remaining within the four walls of his office, he’s left with no choice but to watch another man do the one thing he wishes he could: touch the woman he’s absolutely crazy about.

It's then that reality crashes over him like a ton of bricks. Everything from his fetid mood to the tension that’s found a home seemingly in every muscle in his body since they walked into the hotel lobby a few days ago has nothing to do with Matt Murdoch specifically. And, despite what he’s been trying to convince himself of these past few days, it doesn’t even have anything to do with the history Matt shared with Natasha. The latter was none of his business, and when it came to the former, he barely knows the man outside of what he’s heard about his life in passing during what felt like the longest elevator ride of his life. Surely, what little he does know about him isn’t enough to warrant the hate he feels coursing through him every time he sees him.

But as he watches Matt lean in to whisper something in Natasha’s ear, causing her to laugh, he realizes that what he’s truly envious of are the possibilities Matt has. If Matt wanted to and Natasha was so inclined, he could wine and dine her. Matt could take Natasha’s hand and intertwine their fingers as he guided her through a crowd. The two of them could be out in the open together and no one would bat an eye. With them, being together would have zero consequences – the complete opposite of what it would be like for him and Natasha.

He swallows the sudden tightness that’s formed in his throat, and he peels his eyes away from Natasha for a second as he taps on his earpiece again. “Stepping off,” he says, already turning. “Sam, take my 20.”

“You got it, Cap.”

With Sam’s confirmation, he weaves his way through the crowd and towards the back of the club before slipping into the bathroom. At the sink, he splashes his face, repeating the action once, twice, and then another time in hopes that the frigid water will temper the bitter cocktail of longing and jealousy still burning its way through his entire being. When it doesn’t, he curls his hands around the sink, groaning in frustration and wanting nothing more than to rip it right off the wall.

Natasha isn’t his to covet. He has absolutely no right to feel this way – especially when it was he who had told her that being together would only compromise her safety. And yet, the very idea of her with someone else feels like a blade slicing right through his chest. The risks are crystal clear in his mind, and while he knows he won’t be able to live with himself should they ever play out, it’s as though his heart outright refuses to accept the reality.

He looks up at the mirror before him, studying his reflection, and while his face is hardened by the impasse he finds himself trapped in, somewhere in there he recognizes parts of the man he still is. The man who, regardless of the circumstances, always does the right thing. Who puts the people he cares about first. And while he may be at a crossroads now, what’s clear to him is that he needs to find a way to go back to completely being that man. For that man would never jeopardize the livelihoods of his peers. And, above all, that man would never let anything get in the way of protecting the woman who’s covertly clawed her way into his heart – his feelings be damned.

It's with that newfound determination that he lets go of the sink, shuts the water off, and dries his face. As he exits, he reaches for his earpiece. “On my-”

“Fancy running into you here.”

He looks up to find Sharon standing there, looking elegant in a little black dress and her pin-straight mane falling down her shoulders like a golden curtain. He musters a smile. “Sharon, hi. Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Sharon says, her lips coyly curling upwards. “I was actually hoping you’d be here tonight.”

“Is that right?”

Sharon nods, tilting her head to the side. “Any chance I could interest you in joining me for a drink?”

“Sharon,” he says, chuckling quietly as his gaze falls momentarily to his feet. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m on the clock-”

“Oh, come on,” Sharon says, taking a step forward so that mere inches separate them. “We’re at the hottest new nightclub in Vegas. Surely, even the big strong bodyguard can have a little fun.” Her hand falls to his arm, curling around his bicep as she stands on the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear, “Besides, your boss is pretty preoccupied right now, so I doubt she’ll mind.”

“Sharon-”

“Oh, excuse me.”

The voice is one he could recognize anywhere, and as he and Sharon turn towards the sound, his eyes widen when he finds Natasha standing there, appraising them both.

“Pardon the interruption,” she says, shooting them both the most saccharine of smiles. “I’ll find another bathroom.”

The techno beat pulses throughout the room, but Natasha doesn’t hear it through the sound of her own heart beating in her ears. She doesn’t really have a destination in mind as she pushes through the crowd of sweaty bodies, but what she does know is that she has to keep walking, to put as much distance between herself and the scene she just walked in on.

In all honesty, she doesn’t even know why she got up from her seat to begin with. First it was because the drinks that were being passed around the room were all too sweet and brightly colored for her liking. But as she rose from the couch to make her way to the bar, the sight of Sam standing in the spot a few feet away from her that Steve had previously occupied, stopped her in her tracks.

The irony wasn’t lost on her that in a room packed with people, somehow, she was the one fretting for her bodyguard. Absurd as the notion was, though, she decided to go searching on her own anyway – going as far as to let Sam know that he need not follow her when she saw him begin to move when she did. Unease flickered across Sam’s face at her request, but with one sweet smile and a promise to be back soon, he had let her go, no doubt radioing the rest of their team. Her eyes scanned the expanse of the room, searching the sea of bodies all but plastered together as they moved to the beat. Even the massive counter at the bar was filled with patrons, each of them watching as the bartenders put on a show as they poured their drinks. There was a part of her that knew that the sight should make her happy. Without a doubt, the Red Room’s opening was a success, and yet, all she could focus on was how none of these people around her were Steve.

At some point, she had wound up towards the back of the room, a wave of relief washing over her almost instantly when she passed the hall leading to the restrooms to see Steve’s familiar frame. Only the feeling was fleeting, dissipating almost instantly when she saw Sharon so close to him, whispering in his ear. She hadn’t meant to disrupt their moment, but the words had tumbled out of her mouth before she could bite them back, and it’s only by reflex that she managed to plaster on a smile for them both before excusing herself.

As she works to get away from them now, she supposes she shouldn’t be so surprised to have witnessed Steve and Sharon together. After all, Sharon had given her a heads up, and while she hadn’t even noticed her friend leave the little alcove they’d formed back at the couch, if there’s anything she knows about Sharon Carter, it’s that her determination is nothing but staunch. What she hadn’t anticipated, however, was just how much the sight of someone else’s hands on Steve was going to sting – hurting her more than she could have ever imagined.

She’s aware that it’s that very hurt that’s driving her to stop in front of a server now, but she doesn’t care. When her heart feels as though it’s just been ripped out of her chest, if she’s to survive the rest of the night, she needs to numb the feeling away. With that, she grabs a shot glass off the tray, bringing it to her lips and knocking back the contents in a single gulp. It’s only after the alcohol burns a stripe down her throat, momentarily blocking out the images playing in her head that she finds it in her to cross the room, making it back to where Loki and everyone else are still chatting animatedly.

She stalks up to where Matt is still seated, bending down to huskily whisper in his ear, “Dance with me.”

Matt turns her way, a smile breaking out on his lips as he rises from his seat and takes her hand. From the corner of her eye, she catches the brow Loki arches her way, but she ignores her friend as she allows Matt to guide her towards the dance floor. They settle at the center, and as Matt’s hands find their way to her waist, pulling her back flush to his chest, she begins to sway her hips to the beat.

If the music has lyrics, she doesn’t catch them. But it doesn’t matter. This is the type of music that’s meant to be felt, and it’s with that that she surrenders to the rhythm, raising her arm up to wrap it around Matt’s neck, holding him to her. Underneath the neon red lights that illuminate the dance floor, she allows herself to do everything one’s supposed to do at a nightclub. Bump. Gyrate. Hint at what lies ahead once the night ends. She and Matt grind together, and she can’t help but close her eyes when she feels his hold on her only tighten.

“Imagine what Principal Coulson would say if he saw us now,” Matt whispers in her ear, and she feels him smile against her skin as he nuzzles her neck.

“Probably the same thing he said when he caught us by the fountain,” she muses, her lips curling up into a smirk as she leans further into him and turns to catch his gaze as she adds, “That we’re bound to get arrested for indecency one day.”

Matt chuckles. “Far be it for us not to live up to his expectations.”

Before she can respond, Matt turns her, parking his hands firmly at her waist as he smiles down at her. And then he’s leaning down, but just as his face is mere inches away from hers, her hands suddenly come up, landing on his chest and pushing him away. “I’m sorry, Matt,” she says, her eyes wide. “I can’t do this.”

Confusion colors Matt’s expression as she turns away, and vaguely, she hears him call out to her over the music, but she doesn’t dare look back. Instead, she hastens her steps, the air suddenly too thick around her. It’s as though the presence of the crowd is all too much, and she knows she has to get out. Her eyes search for the glowing sign of the nearest exit, and she’s glad when she finds one close by. She turns the corner, stepping into the hall, only to gasp when she feels a hand on her waist, gripping her firmly and pulling her into a darkened room.

“Did he kiss you?” The question slips out angrier than Steve had intended it to, but with how incandescent he feels, he can’t quite seem to bring himself to care as he backs Natasha up against the door of the storage room, caging her in as he rests his hands on either side of her.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Natasha spits out, her nostrils flaring even as she makes no move to get away. The room is dark, lit only by the light peering in from the hall through the space between the blinds and casting a red tint on the small space. Nevertheless, he sees the ire in her stare as she glares at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t take a swing at you!”

He ignores her remark, gritting his teeth. “Did. He. Kiss. You.”

“What’s it to you?” she says, tipping her chin up in challenge.

Guilt washes over him almost instantly, the fight he had in him suddenly extinguished by her question. Despite the blinding envy rushing through him right now, he knows he has no right to demand answers from her, much less about this. He sighs, his expression softening. “Natasha-”

“Why are you acting like this?” she cuts in.

“How am I acting?”

“Like a jealous ass!” she says, unable to keep her frustration at bay any longer. He looks away, ashamed of how easily she had seen through him. “You’re the one that said we couldn’t be together, remember? That there are too many risks.” When he finally finds the wherewithal to meet her gaze again, he finds himself taken aback to see her expression brimming with mutual guilt. “And I’ve been trying to respect that. But ever since that night, all we’ve been doing is stealing moments where we can, and I go along with it, because you know what? I’d rather have a piece of you than none at all.” Her bottom lip begins to quiver, but she sinks her teeth right into it. “But then out of nowhere, you just push me away-”

“I pushed you away because I couldn’t stand to see you with him!” he finally admits, watching as her eyes widen in surprise. “I watch him with you, watch the way he touches you” – he grits out the last word, his eyes falling shut as the images of her dancing with Matt only moments ago replay in his head like a special kind of torment made just for him – “I see it and it makes me feral because I don’t want anyone else’s hands on you but mine!”

“So what, if you can’t have me, no one can?” she challenges hotly, her brow rising. “You don’t own me, and you definitely don’t get to act like you do just because you want to fuck me!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Isn’t it, though?” she says. “You can’t tell me that the idea of me with someone else all but sickens you when not half an hour ago, you and Sharon-”

“Sharon? Natasha, nothing happened with her.”

“I saw it,” she says, a scowl forming on her forehead. “I saw her all over you.”

“And if you hadn’t run off, you would have seen me tell her that I wasn’t interested!” he exclaims before scoffing. “God, Natasha, how could I possibly be even remotely interested in someone else when you’ve been on my mind every second of every goddamn day since I met you?” Her lips part at the revelation, and as he looks her right in the eyes, his voice softens. “You’re so far under my skin that I find myself rationalizing all the ways to bend my rules for you, and that scares the shit out of me! Because the rules? They keep me from slipping. And I can’t slip, not with you.” He sighs. “You asked me that night what it’d do to me if something happened to you,” he reminds her. “It’d kill me, Nat. That’s what it’d do. But maybe that doesn’t even matter because resisting you? That might just kill me first.”

“Then stop!” she says, her words almost a plea. She brings her hands up, cupping his face between her hands, and it takes all of him not to melt right into her touch. “Stop resisting me, Steve.” She runs her thumb over his jaw. “You said we couldn’t be together because you’re scared I’ll get hurt, but the only thing hurting me right now is not being with you.”

He shakes his head. “Nat-”

“I miss you,” she says, pulling him closer. “I ache for you. So much.”

“Baby…” His eyes fall shut as he leans his forehead against hers. It’s as though the wind’s been knocked right out of him, taking with it the last vestiges of his will. He knows he should walk away right now, but all he can seem to focus on is how much he’s been aching for her, too. “Fuck,” he mutters, and then he’s leaning down to slant his lips over hers, letting his desire for her consume him whole. He kisses her as though he’s claiming her – allowing himself to pretend, if only for this moment, that she’s his instead of someone he covets – and he can’t help but groan at the intoxicating taste that’s a mix of her cherry lip gloss, tequila, and just her.

When he pulls away, he can’t help but smile as her lips chase his. He leans further away, and she whimpers. “Ssh,” he says, giving her a conciliatory peck before maneuvering them back a step so that her back is against the door once more.

“People will wonder where we are,” she breathes out halfheartedly, watching as he raises an arm to slide the lock shut behind her.

“They’ll wonder where you are,” he corrects. “But don’t worry, we’ll be out soon.” A smirk forms on his lips. “I just need to properly apologize first.”

Her eyes darken. “Do you now?”

His only response is to gently turn her, guiding her until she’s facing the door. “Palms on the door, baby,” he whispers, catching the way her skin prickles at his words as she complies. “Let me show you how sorry I am for acting like a jealous ass.”

She laughs at that, but the sound quickly dies when his hands find her waist, and he hears her breath grow shallow as they begin to move upwards. A shiver wracks her entire body when he presses a kiss just where her ear meets her neck, and the second he cups her breasts, palming her through the material of her top, she moans.

“Is this how you’re going to apologize?” she asks, her voice shaky as she leans her forehead against the frame and his lips brush against the nape of her neck.

He chuckles against her skin before trailing open-mouthed kisses down the column of her spine. “No, Nat,” he says, his hands finding the front of her pants and making quick work of undoing them. A whimper falls from her lips when he pulls the material down to her knees, taking her panties along with it. And as he curls his hands around her hips, she goes pliant under his touch, allowing him to tug her back until she’s almost bent at the waist. With her rear in the air, he kneels behind her, pressing a kiss to each of her cheeks.

“Steve,” she sighs out, craning her head as though she can’t resist looking back at him. “Please-”

Her words dissolve into a moan when he presses his thumbs against her, spreading her open, and he barely contains his growl when he sees how slick she already is between her legs. “This is how I’m going to apologize.”

“Oh, God,” she cries out the second he kisses her throbbing center, his touch like a jolt of electricity through her body as it trembles underneath his ministrations. None of his memories of that night or his fantasies over the past few weeks could compare to having her right now, to losing himself in the decadence of her arousal – she tastes of salt and honey and like the woman he’s been desperate to devour again, and he can’t help but groan as he licks a broad stripe up her sex. He lavishes attention on her clit, and he hears her breathing pick up as he swirls and sucks on the bundle of nerves, his name falling from her lips in quiet little pants as she attempts to keep her voice down. She tries to push her hips back, seeking more contact and whimpering in protest when he holds her firmly in place. Her thighs shake, and coupled with the way her walls are fluttering against his tongue, he can tell that she’s close. He quickens his pace, working over her with deep, firm licks until she shatters with a whine. Even so, he doesn’t relent, pulling her even closer to him until another orgasm bursts over her hot on the heels of the first.

It's when her breathing begins to stabilize that he pulls her panties back up, followed by her slacks. She turns as he rises to his feet, quickly wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Her lips pull up in a dazed smile when they pull away. “I suppose you’re forgiven.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he says, dusting another kiss to her forehead. She looks up at him, her eyes so vulnerable that it pulls at his heart. He cups her face in his hand, running a thumb over the apple of her cheek. “What is it, Nat?”

“Come back to my suite with me.”

This time, he doesn’t even think twice before nodding. He can’t, not anymore.

“Rogers to Comms, come in. I’m with Red. We’re inbound to base. Does anyone copy?”

The response is swift. “This is Wilson, I copy,” he hears Sam say just as Natasha swipes her keycard through the reader and he follows her through the doorway of her suite. “Making my way over.”

“Negative,” he says, closing the door behind him. “I’ll take the night shift.”

Natasha turns to him, the surprise on her face impossible to miss. He’s never done that before, but the implication of his words – of borrowed time for them – sparks something in her eyes that’s akin to hope. In his ear, Sam’s reply comes a beat later. “Copy that. Wilson out.”

He only manages to slip off his earpiece, tucking it into his pants pocket before Natasha closes the distance between them, her mouth hungrily finding his as she presses him against the nearest wall. He pulls her closer, letting out a moan when she nibbles on his bottom lip.

“Want this off,” she says between kisses, her hands balling around the collar of his shirt in emphasis.

A smile finds its way across his lips as he lets go of her, placing his hands up in front of him as if in surrender. Desire flashes brightly in her stare, causing a bolt of heat to tear right through him as she moves her hands down, her fingers quickly working to rid him of his vest and then his shirt. It’s as she pushes his button-up off his shoulders, baring his torso to her, that her eyes rake hungrily over his bare skin. She swipes her tongue over her lips, huffing out a sigh before looking heatedly back up at him. “You’re infuriatingly beautiful, you know that, right?”

“Look who’s talking,” he says with a scoff.

As she brings her eyes back to his chest, he catches the way her hands twitch, her fingers curling into her palms as though it’s taking a great deal of effort to keep them at her sides. “I-” she begins, only to shake her head. “Need you in my bed. Now.”

He pushes off the wall, letting her lead him past the living space of her suite and through the archway of the bedroom. A devious smirk paints its way across her lips the second they’re inside, and she plants a hand on the bare skin of his belly, pushing gently and walking him backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed.

“Sit,” she commands, and even in the darkness of the room, he catches the way her green eyes have all but gone black as he sinks down on the mattress. She struts over to him, the tops of her breasts brushing over his face as she leans in, and like a reflex, he reaches to pull her closer, only for her to step back.

“Nat,” he says, the need to touch her growing only all too consuming.

She wags a finger at him, and as he ticks a brow up at her, he watches in intrigue as she reaches for his belt, undoing the buckle and pulling it out from the loops. She runs her hands through the leather, pulling it taut as if to test its strength. He chuckles quietly. “Didn’t take you for the flogging type.”

“I’m not,” she says, moving to place one knee on either side of him as she sits across his lap. “But never say never.”

She reaches her arms around him, tugging his hands on the mattress, and it’s as she adjusts them behind his back, securing his belt around his wrists, that his lips quirk up. “I thought you liked it when I took control?”

“Oh, I do,” she says, moving off of him again. She takes a step back as she brings a hand to the back of her head, feeling for the pin of her updo. She pulls it loose, and as her hair cascades down her shoulders, she smiles. “But maybe I like it when you lose control for me, too.”

His breath catches in his throat, and he watches as she slides her hands down the front of her blazer, stopping right at the hem. Her fingers find the hook and eye closure, and she makes a show of slowly unclasping it. She undoes one, and then another, working her way upwards until the fabric falls open and sashays down her body, landing behind her with a soft thud and baring her creamy skin to him. From where he’s sitting, he revels in the ravenous look that fills her eyes, feeling himself tenting even more uncomfortably against his pants as he takes in the flat of her belly and the perfect teardrops of her breasts, her rosy nipples tipping upwards as they pebble in the cool air of the room.

She holds his gaze as she moves on to her slacks, unbuttoning it before sliding the zipper down. With a coquettish tilt of her head, she turns around, and then she’s hooking her thumbs into the waistband and causing a groan to rip from the back of his throat as she bends to slip it down her legs along with her panties. He can see the evidence of her arousal shimmering between her thighs, and whether that’s from what he’d done to her up in the Red Room or simply from the show she’s putting on for him now, he doesn’t know. Nor can he bring himself to care as his mouth waters.

She’s about to step out of her heels when she pauses, stealing a glance back at him. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she says, smirking. “You like when I keep these on, don’t you?”

“I do,” he tries to reply coolly, but his voice betrays him. She saunters back to him, her hips swaying with her every step before she moves to straddle him. As she does, he feels the warmth of her sex against him, and with a growl, he strains against his belt. “Natasha.”

“You said you weren’t going to touch me again,” she coos, desire crackling hotly in her eyes even as her mouth forms into a petulant pout. Her hands find his shoulders, and she dusts a kiss to his jaw. “Luckily, I didn’t make the same promise when it comes to you.”

“I think we both know I didn’t make good on that.”

“Maybe not, but you did make me wait,” she counters, flattening her palms against his chest. “God, Steve, do you have any idea how much I’ve been needing this?” She shakes her head, leaning in closer. “Ever since that night, I’ve been dying to feel you again…” Her lips begin to follow the trail of her hands, staining his skin with the remnants of her gloss as they graze each of his pecs and then every plane of his sculpted abs. “To touch every inch of you.” Her hands slide even lower, brushing past the light patch of hair below his navel, and he lets out a grunt when she cups the outline of his erection through his pants. “I mean, it’s only fair, isn’t it?” she muses, looking up at him from underneath the fan of her lashes as she undoes the button, “seeing as there isn’t a part of me you haven’t touched.”

A grunt – loud and feral – slips from his lips. “Nat,” he says, her name sounding both like a warning and a plea all at once. But then she slides a hand past the waistband of his boxers, and he throws his head back. “Fuck, fuck.”

“You know, I tried,” she says as she curls her fingers around the base of him, causing his hips to arch off the mattress as she squeezes. With her other hand, she hooks his chin between her thumb and forefinger, pulling his head back so she can slant her lips over his. “I tried to be… good.” She begins to stroke him, his breath picking up with every languid slide of her hand up and down his length. “I tried to play by your rules. Keep you out of my mind.” She pulls away from him, sighing. “But I remember everything.”

“What… what do you remember?” he manages to sputter out between heavy breaths.

“I remember how you touched me,” she purrs, making him hiss as her thumb runs over the head of him, gathering the wetness that’s formed before shuttling her hand back down. “I remember how you felt inside of me…” His entire body grows rigid at wantonness that fills her tone as she says that, and another curse falls unbidden from his lips. “The way you filled me and stretched me… ruining me for everyone else.”

“Jesus, Nat,” he swears, feeling the sweat beginning to form on his brow as he pants. “I-”

She cuts him off with another bruising kiss. “I remember what you taste like, too,” she says, making him whimper. “I want to taste you again.” She cups his cheek with her other hand, tracing his bottom lip. “Do you want that, baby?”

“Yes,” he says, not caring one bit that he’s begging now. “God, yes. Please, Nat. Please.”

With a final kiss to his lips, she lets him go, sinking down to her knees right between the spread of his legs. She makes quick work of pulling his pants and boxers down his knees, her tongue coming out to wet her lips as his length, thick and flushed, springs free.

“Oh, fuck,” he cries out the second she wraps her lips tightly around him. When he strains against the belt again, she digs her nails into the skin of his thighs, imploring him to stay still. She looks up at him, and the unabashed lust in her eyes as her mouth moves fastidiously over his shaft is without a doubt the biggest turn-on of his life, sending a fresh wave of desire right through him. His lips lift in a dazed, intoxicated smile. “So fucking gorgeous.”

His words only spurn her on. She pushes at his knees, and he parts them wider, surrendering to her and the delicious pleasure building at the base of his spine as she takes him deeper. But then she lets a hand roam lower, and he cries out, her name falling brokenly from his lips once again when she cups his sack, gently kneading it in her grasp.

It’s when she hallows her cheeks, sucking him harder, that he feels his quads begin to tighten, the beginning embers of his impending orgasm already sparking. And while he’s spent many a night wondering what it would be like to have her mouth on him like this, there’s something he wants more right now.

“Nat, sweetheart.” The weariness laced with the desperation in his tone causes her to ease off of him, and when she shoots him a worried look, he shakes his head. “Please, just- Need to be inside of you.” In a second, she’s rising to her feet, and despite the desire roaring in his veins as she pulls his boxers and pants the rest of the way down, he finds the wherewithal to call out to her again, nodding towards his pants. “Wallet.”

Her teeth bother her bottom lip for the briefest of moments before she cups his face. “I’m covered,” she heaves out. “And I’ve been tested.”

“So have I,” he says, eyes finding hers. “There’s no one else but you, Nat.”

She groans at that, the look in her eyes rapacious. “Then I want you bare,” she says as she makes a move to straddle him again.

“Wait,” he says, managing a lazy smile when she whines his name in protest. “Turn around.”

For a second, she stares at him, uncertain. But her confusion fades quickly, and he catches the way her skin prickles with gooseflesh, her breath hitching with excitement as his request dawns on her. She swivels around, her back to him, and when she positions herself over him, he swears he feels his blood run thick when she reaches for his length and rubs the head of him over her folds. She leans back as they both moan, taunting him as her scarlet tresses fan across his chest. He wants to grip her hair firmly in his hands, tug her back, and kiss her neck. He knows she knows it – and that she wants it just as much, too.

“So wet,” Steve all but growls into the skin of her shoulder as she continues to tease him. “Is this all for me, Nat?”

“Only for you,” she says, letting out a mewl when she finally sinks down on him. He moans loudly, feeling as though flames are licking across his skin as she takes him in, inch by inch. Behind him, his hands clench into fists in an effort to keep himself grounded. He’s been longing to feel her again for weeks, and now that he’s enveloped in her warmth, not a single barrier separating them, he feels as though he’s slowly being driven mad with desire. It’s only by sheer will that he resists the urge to buck up into her, allowing her to control how much of him to take. She whimpers his name when he finally bottoms out, one hand shooting up to wrap around his neck, holding him to her. “It’s so deep this way.”

“It’s perfect,” he says, kissing her neck, her cheek – any part of her that he can reach. “You’re perfect.”

He feels her shiver against him, and they both gasp as she begins to move her hips. Everything from the way her walls grip him to how his name falls from her lips as though it’s a benediction feels like nothing short of a fever dream. But it’s real. He can feel it, real and raw and oh so right as she rides him, and he savors each rise and fall of her body over his length.

“Tell me again,” she says, leaning back against his shoulder and pulling his head to the side. “Tell me there’s no one else.”

“There’s no one else,” he promises, and she looks so beautiful like this, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes wild that he can’t help but kiss her. “I want you, Nat. Just you.”

The needy moan she lets out against the lock of their lips causes a tremor to roll over him. He wants so badly to touch her, to grab her hips tightly, to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands. But he knows her, knows that for as much as she loves bequeathing control to him that sometimes, she needs to be able to lead, too. So he lets her, electing instead to bask in the view of her gorgeous figure moving up and down on him, her hands trailing up her own body, rolling a nipple between her fingers as she chases her own pleasure.

Soon enough, her hips are moving faster against him. Even so, she whines in discontent. She’s close, he can feel it in the way her walls clench around him and by how much louder her moans are growing, but he knows this isn’t enough.

“Untie me, baby,” he says. “Untie me so I can fuck you the way you need me to.”

She barely has time to react.

The second she frees him from his restraints, he springs up, wrapping his arms around her and maneuvering them until her back is on the mattress. He hikes her legs up on his shoulders, holding her down with his body. “This won’t last long.”

Her lips part to agree, to tell him how close she is already, but the words diffuse into a moan when his arms find her thighs, holding her in place as he enters her in one deliriously delicious thrust. She’s exquisitely pinned in this position, unable to do anything but wrap her arms around him, her nails scratching down his back as he pulls out nearly all the way before snapping his hips forward, burying himself deep into her. The pace he sets toes the line between pain and pleasure, but she welcomes it, luxuriating in being able to feel him in every part of her body, right down to her bones, as he drives into her hard, fast, and rough. Come tomorrow, she knows she’ll have bruises where he’s holding her, but she couldn't care less, only growing wetter at the idea of having some semblance of a keepsake to remember this moment by once it’s over.

“Steve,” she calls out at a particularly delectable push of his hips. He kisses her so hard and deep and consuming that she has to pull away, her lungs burning for air. “Oh, just like that.”

“Close, baby,” he warns, and she feels the way his thrusts grow erratic above her.

“Me too,” she whimpers as he reaches between them, down to where they’re joined. His hand brushes against her bundle of nerves, and she shrieks as he continues to drive into her, taking her body and claiming it with the hard and rough fucking that she’s been craving for weeks. She can see in the way his forehead is creased, a bead of sweat dripping from his temple, that he’s holding on for her – denying himself for her – and though she didn’t think it’s possible to want him any more than she already does, with every fiber of her being, she does. His thumb begins to rub tight circles around her clit, and as white spots start to flicker across her vision, she reaches for him. “Come on me,” she breathes out, pulling his face so close to hers that she can feel his breath across her skin. “Want to feel you all over me.”

She hears him groan just as the heat pooling low in her belly unfurls, causing her eyes to fall shut. Her stomach tightens, and as her orgasm bursts over her, curling her toes, everything around her blurs, save for the sensation of white-hot pleasure pulsing throughout her every cell.

Her body is still trembling when she feels Steve suddenly pull out of her, and as she forces her eyes open, she finds him kneeling between her legs, the muscles of his forearm flexing as his hand furiously strokes his length. Then he grits out her name, his hips bucking, and she gasps when she feels the warmth of his release against her belly, making the blood thrum in her veins all over again despite how boneless she already feels.

Steve collapses down next to her, and when she turns her head to him, her pride swells just a little at how thoroughly wrecked he looks. He peels an eye open once he gets his breathing in some order, reaching out to touch her face. “Are you okay?”

“Mm…” She doesn’t look away from him as she trails one hand down her stomach, rubbing her fingers across the warmth still strewn on her skin before bringing it up to her mouth. A curse falls from his lips, and she smiles as she licks her fingers clean. “Never better.”

It's later on when they’ve managed to clean up and make it under the sheets that he pulls her to him. Below them, Sin City is still alive and buzzing, the glow from the Strip casting her room in a neon hue. She rests her head on his chest, and as his hand begins to run up and down her arm absentmindedly, she revels in the quiet and the comfort of being wrapped up in his warmth.

“Do you think this’ll ever fade?” she asks, looking up at him.

“Wanting you this way?” he clarifies, to which she nods. “I don’t see how.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

He stares up at the ceiling, silent. Eventually, he sighs. “I don’t know.”

Earlier that night…

“Your Old Fashioned, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Thank you, Brad,” Loki says, leaning back into his seat on the balcony as the server leaves and he takes a sip of his cocktail. Before him, the sea of bodies is still grinding to the beat, showing zero signs of slowing down any time soon. It’s nearly midnight already, and he can’t help but smile into his drink. In the morning, the success of this opening will be strewn across the publications, and it’s with glee that he’ll clip every single headline into his next presentation for the quarterly Odinson Holdings earnings call. How’s that for a measly subsidiary.

His reverie is broken by the feel of a weight on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Natasha. “I was wondering where you went.”

“Had to get some air,” she says over the pulsing music, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Steve lingering a few steps away.

“Everything all right, darling?”

“Everything’s fine,” she says. As he studies her appearance, he notes the way the color on her lips has begun to fade, and while her hair isn’t a mess, the slicked back updo she’s had on certainly isn’t as pristine as when she first arrived. Even so, he says nothing of it as she shrugs. “I might have had a little too much to drink tonight, though. Do you mind if I take off?”

“Not at all,” he says, setting his drink down on the table before rising from his seat to wrap his arms tightly around her. “This night is a certified success. Congratulations.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” she says, squeezing him back just as tight.

“Oh, you could have,” he says. “You just wouldn’t have had as much fun.” He punctuates his words with a smile, making her giggle before he turns to Steve. “You’ll make sure she gets back to her suite?”

Steve nods. “Of course.”

He bids Natasha goodbye with a kiss on her cheek, and as she and Steve make their way down the stairs of the balcony and onto the main floor of the club, he picks up his drink again before walking towards the railing, looking out into the vast expanse of the room. He watches as they both make their way towards the exit, Steve slightly in front of Natasha as he guides her through the throng of people.

“You know something.”

The statement prompts him to glance to his left to see that Sylvie’s joined him, her hands curled around the railing as she, too, watches Steve and Natasha leave. He doesn’t respond, electing instead to take another sip of his drink as he looks back out onto the floor.

“This little class reunion of yours… it isn’t the happenstance she thinks it is, is it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, merely earning a snort from Sylvie.

“You’re not going to tell her that you know?” she asks, a touch of amusement in her tone. “It’s unlike you two to keep secrets from each other.”

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, a smirk crossing his lips. “She’ll tell me when she’s ready.”

#Romanogers #Blinding Lights #So It Goes 'verse #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #Bodyguard AU #Forbidden Romance

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yestrnight · 11 months

Note

how much do I have to pay for svarog sex 😊

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ DILF ROBOT FUCKERZ !

FROM: svarog / afab! reader

SUBJECT: the underground of belobog is a cruel, dark place where it's a competition of the fittest. sweet, little clara is lucky to have svarog as her guardian, but you're even luckier to be able to... heh, get to know him ;)

MESSAGE: nothing to pay but ur dignity babygurl 🥴

( uh me and my doujinshi writing ass at it again; reader is a SL— /svarog counterattack/; overstimulation; robot fucking… duh; svarog is treated as an oversized vibrator cuz that is what he is!!! )

you're not exactly sure when clara pulled you into her little family dynamic with svarog— the svarog, leader of the vagrants, protector of the underworld, and for the longest time, the barrier between upper and lower belobog. sure, you liked telling her the children's stories you've read from natasha's bookshelves, and accompanying her around as her personal bodyguard while she looked through scraps to find supplies for the vagrants.

but you feel like, even as clara tugs you by the sleeve, that stepping foot into the svarog's lair is a biiit too much.

your cold sweat and pale face as the large, rickety gates swing open for clara (and you) says all that needed to be said. your stiff body follows clara as she pulls you inside. "um, clara…" you start, your shaky voice betraying any kind of macho you try to summon. "i don't think this is a good idea… i'm from wildfire, you know? svarog and our relationship is a bit… y'know."

clara's a smart kid. of course she knows. but she looks up at you, as innocent and hopeful as she can be, and pleads with you. "it's okay!" she says. "i've told mr. svarog all about you before! in fact, he's the one who told me to invite you, just so he can properly thank you!"

"h-he did?!" is all you could yelp before she and her traffic light perkins whisked you away to their home.

a few moments later, you're face to face with the big bad robot himself, his lone red eye peering down at you seven foot above. you gulp, clenching onto clara's soft hand for support. "h-hello, sir svarog…" your voice cracks. "nice to meet you…?"

"my data says that meetings between parents and their children's educators are common between human life forms," his deep and rusty voicebank echoes throughout the room. "a parent-teacher conference, they call it."

you shrink further into your uniform. "um… i'm not really her teacher…" your voice is so small even you yourself can barely hear it.

"that is obvious," he states. "according to your data, you lack the qualifications for being a professional educator. nevertheless, you've taught clara a great many things. she is… happy, whenever she talks about you. i hope you continue to spend time with her."

"i told you!" clara leaps up with joy and clings to your arm. her smile is so great that it gives you a literal heartache as it squeezes from how cute she is. "mr. svarog likes you!"

you swear svarog's eye glints, and you double swear his gaze is directed at the red bandanna wrapped around your arm. you'd give him the staredown too, if you were brave enough, that is. after all, what kind of robot needed pants anyway?

that robot needed pants because he needed to hide the luggage he was packing underneath. because if he had that out in the open, you swear any of your cowardice would have evaporated and you'd climb that big hunk of metal like a tree just to get that branch inside of you.

AHEM! what you meant to say was… oh, whatever, no use saving the very little dignity you have left.

the first time you drool over him is when he protects you from the cold. it was a wildfire expedition gone wrong and you underestimated a rogue robot, and the vagrant camp was so unfriendly without clara around. frostbite made you delirious, so any sort of fear vanished when you yelled through the rusty gates for some sort of savior.

only when the world begins to go dark do you feel a giant metal hand cup your back, and your feet swing in the air. when you finally come to, it's by the crackling fireplace. the world is still blurry when you sit up and see svarog’s hulking body looming over you. in other circumstances, you might have run away as soon as you can, but the near frostbite has made you delirious, and… well, svarog’s looking too sexy for a piece of scrap metal.

“ngh, ah ♡~” svarog’s one metal hand is large enough to encompass your whole lower body. he cups it as gently as a warforged robot can, and he bullies your throbbing clit with his finger while you’re left shaking under him. his red eye glints as he observes your expressions– drooling and eyes rolled back, a happy grin on your face as you rub back against his finger. “m– more~ more please!” his cupped hand bounces you up and down, and you squeal in delight as it heightens the stimulations even further.

“y– you can vibrate, right?” you gasp when svarog rubs your clit juuust right, and you pleadingly look up at him with tears in your eyes. “th– that makes sense… robots all– ngh! r-right there, please– vibrate, don’t they? jus’ comes with the machines ‘n all that, hehe~”

you’re quite the talkative one, aren’t you? svarog isn’t exactly used to this, given that all the architects and elites he served in the past were so quiet and distant while they used him. “what exactly are you insinuating, [your name]?”

“oh, come on!” you pout frustratedly. “v-vibrate for me, will ya? i need more! this isn’t cutting it for me anymore– a-aaH ♡ yes yesyesyesyesyes! right there, oh my gosh, right there!!”

his data tells him that you’re at the height of ecstasy as he watches you arch your back and kick your feet. your fucked out laughs as you continue to beg for more is the sign that tells him that he’s doing a good job, and putting one and one together, he increases the vibration setting and you devolve into orgasmic screams.

“ah ♡ ah ♡! ahhh ♡♡ wh-what the fuck, svaroggg!!! ♡” the vibration on your poor, swollen clit is too much as he continues to rock you up and down while pressing the vibrating finger down. “i– i never told you to– ahh ♡– increase ittttt!”

“is this not necessary?” svarog questions. he’s so used to cold and unflinching ‘clients’ that he’s not exactly sure what to do with a human as expressive and loud as you. “records tell me that further simulation will bring you to what humans call an ‘orgasm.’”

“i’m, nggh, i’ve already orgasmed, you idiot!” you sob as you flail your legs, squirming and kicking as if that will loosen his grasp on you. “oh, ooooh~ t-too much!”

ah. so this is an orgasm. while this does not fit the algorithmic standards for the measurement of beauty, svarog surmises that this is ‘beautiful’ to him. it’s his reward for a job well-done, as all worthy leaders give to their soldiers. “apologies, [your name], but i fear that my past experiences have not given me sufficient data on what constitutes an ‘orgasm.’ clara adores you very much, and i do not wish to strain you at the expense of her anxiety. so, if you would allow it—”

something pushes at the tip of your hole, and you widen your eyes when you look and discover that he’s slowly bullying his way into you. you grip his metal arms for safety and stare at him with wide eyes.

“if all goes according to plan, you should have nothing to worry about.” you don’t know how to feel comforted when he says it in that apathetic-sounding (yet super hot) voice of his. “human orifices can be trained to take in objects larger than them– i should have you sitting on my… cock, as they call it, at the end of the day.”

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #svarog smut #hsr smut #svarog x reader #svarog #nite.writes

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stxrvel · 1 year

Text

the outbreak pt. 2

summary: you've kinda been into therapy and turns out it worked?

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4k

warnings: nothing really, i think. this is actually kinda fluffly. i was in a good mood.

note: i didn't planned on publishing the second part so soon, but i had a lot of free time and a mind running wild. still didn't liked that much how this chapter turned out tho. hoping i could make another part to see what happened to my girl wanda! see you guys in the next fic, love yall. the feedback is always appreciated! thank u for reading.

(if a part 3 never appears, just know this is an open ending)

part 1, extra: 1.5

“So, how've you been doing these past few weeks?”

“You don't have to make small talk to me, Natasha. I enjoy the silence.”

“I ask genuinely. I barely even see you in the halls of the Complex. We only really talk on missions and we've had three since that happened.”

“Don't worry about me.”

“I just want to know how you're doing.”

You turned your head to look at the woman sitting next to you. The uncomfortable leather chair you two were in did nothing to appease the constant headache you'd been having these past few days. Natasha watched you with an arched eyebrow and her hands in her lap. You knew she was right, everyone was always right when it came to you. Apparently Bucky was right when he said everyone knew but you, and that spectrum extended to everyone always seemed to know how you were doing if only by the movement of your eyelids.

That's why you had begun to avoid people.

You spent more time in your room and in the Complex gym, doing research assignments for Fury that involved leaving the building, the three missions with Natasha (fully mandatory and against your will) and sometimes in the lab with Bruce when he needed someone to hold his canisters full of chemical liquids.

Fury and Bruce were the only people you tolerated lately. No funny looks, no awkward questions, no innuendo; just what they needed and goodbye.

But, that time, you did have to go out with Natasha. You weren't given the option to come on your own and it was understandable. A little bit. Even though you were trying to make amends for what you had done, not only on the mission a few months ago but also for what you had done to yourself for years, you didn't know that recovery meant you had to have a watcher on you at all times.

And what's worse, that watchman came with a bird.

“I'm fine, Nat,” you replied to her liking finally.

A short laugh from across the room caught your attention.

“Tell that to the tantrum you threw Fury so we wouldn't come with you.”

You gave Clint Barton a hard look, almost lying on the other longer couch as if he were admiring the earth from a cloud. He had one arm over his eyes which he had raised slightly to give you a mocking look, and one leg bent so that his foot was on the couch.

“I didn't throw a tantrum.”

“Fury, please, I know how to take care of myself. I don't need two bodyguards behind me all day. I'm fully capable of getting there and back on my own.”

Clint's poor imitation of your voice caused you an undercurrent of irritation, but you easily made the decision not to let it come out against him. It turns out that sometimes you could just shut up instead of exploding against others, crazy, right?

“First, I don't talk like that.”

“That's right. Lousy imitation, Clint,” Natasha had your back.

“Second, I only asked him once to let me come alone. I didn't beg him like a fool.”

“Sam told me otherwise,” Clint countered and you frowned. You felt the smile on his mouth.

“Sam's an idiot.”

“Sam's on Bucky's side,” Natasha mused.

And then, an awkward silence.

That was something you hated and still couldn't get used to. When people would say Bucky's name around you, the atmosphere would get strangely tense and suddenly everyone would go silent. It felt strange at first, but when Wanda did it you understood what was going on.

“Stop doing that,” you grumbled with a grimace. “I'm not fucking marble. I'm not going to crack from hearing his name.”

“We didn't say anything,” Natasha spoke again, her innocent little dove expression getting on your nerves.

Count to ten, Y/N, don't forget…

“You guys always go silent after you say his name like he's going to spontaneously explode. We're adults, you know? There are things to get over.”

“Wow,” you heard Clint mutter.

“Shut up, bird.”

Clint made a negative, game-like sound when you gave an incorrect answer.

“Three points off. Natasha and Clint are in the lead,” the man snorted as he rose from his position on the couch. You couldn't do more than give him another look, waiting for him to evaporate into thin air.

Natasha stirred next to you looking around at her surroundings, the dark colors of the room almost absorbing all the natural light coming through the few windows that were in the building.

“You haven't talked to him yet?”

“No.”

“Do you plan to?”

“I don't know. Maybe not.”

“Why?” Clint inquired, suddenly more interested in the subject.

“Because I don't feel like I give a s-”

Clint made the sound again.

“Two points off.”

“Clint,” Natasha reproached him with her tone of voice and the aforementioned only flashed her a smile. “It's been several weeks since you were last together. And you've had a lot of improvement-”

“That's debatable.”

“… don't you feel ready to talk to him?” Natasha questioned, completely ignoring Clint's intrusion into the conversation, again.

“I really don't know,” you admitted. “She told me I'm on the right track too, but just the thought of seeing him again after all those things he said… that I said…”

You sighed. Your gaze focused on the dark floor, a bluish-green hidden behind a black carpet with red, the most horrible carpet you had ever seen in your life.

“It scares me. I don't think I can do it.”

The woman let out an affirmative sound from her throat and the room became silent once again.

You almost let your mind begin to wander into memories, conjuring up the times when you felt like you were on top of the world when you were really about to hit rock bottom. But you quickly focused on where you were and what you were going to do there.

You were going to pick up Wanda. You had wanted to do it alone because it had been several weeks since you had last seen her. The last thing you told her was that you were going on another mission with Bucky and that you hoped it wouldn't end as badly as the argument you had that half the building heard. After that, she left.

She had made the decision to come and talk to Stephen Strange and had told you a few days before you left on what would be your last (official) field mission. She left the Complex the day after you left and all you had heard from her since then was that she was fine, that Strange hadn't locked her in a dungeon and that she was learning many things about her magic, especially how to control it to have power in things like her dreams. You still didn't know what those lucid dreams she had been having for a while had been due to, but judging from the letter you had received yesterday where she asked you to go to the Sanctum Sanctorum, it looked like she had gotten some kind of response.

When you told Fury what you were going to do, he didn't hesitate for a second to say that he would ask the Wonder Duo to accompany you. Clearly you balked, not as many times as Sam and Clint implied, but you didn't expose any more complaints to the Director's authoritative voice.

So, there you three were. Waiting for the wizards to appear from somewhere as you waited in one of the most horribly decorated rooms you'd ever seen.

“Sorry for the delay.”

The new male voice that echoed in the room startled you. You cringed and turned your head every which way until you came upon Strange's figure standing at the entrance to the room, not far from where you three were standing. Natasha and Clint remained unperturbed and you suppressed your desire to complain about the intrusion. You were the only one who hadn't heard him coming, apparently.

“Y/N!” you heard Wanda's voice.

You shot up from the uncomfortable couch the moment you saw her emerge from behind Strange's body. Quickly, you met halfway and melted into a big hug. You shifted from side to side trying to keep your strength and tears held back because of how much you had missed her.

“You look great!” was what she said to you the moment you parted.

“Don't lie to her, Wanda,” Clint exclaimed, and shortly you heard Natasha hiss in his direction.

“I've had better days.”

“I can't believe the day is here already! You have to tell me everything. What happened on the mission? What happened with Bucky?”

Again, the unpleasant silence.

“Why are you two making those faces?”

Wanda was watching the Wonder Duo right behind you and you couldn't help but let out a big exhale.

You turned to look at the only person who really gave a damn about your life.

“Thanks for everything, Strange.”

The man nodded in your direction. “It was my pleasure. Hopefully everything will be better from now on.”

Wanda waved goodbye to him as you turned around and pointed the other two people in the room toward the exit.

The other goodbyes were short and you were soon finding yourselves exiting through one of the portals opened by Strange, where you met the entrance to the Complex head on.

“Ah, magic. It makes life so much simpler,” Clint commented before starting to walk in the direction of the common room.

Natasha had the decency to bid you farewell and followed the bird's path at a tight pace.

“I thought they were going to join us,” Wanda mused, watching their figures walk away.

“No, they were just my nannies.”

“Nannies?” you saw her frown.

You watched the grimace on her face and almost have the urge to ask Sam to come give her a rundown of what had happened in the last few weeks since that last mission, but you mentally pulled back and offered a small smile to the confused woman in front of you.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

---

“Have you eaten today?”

The haze that clouded your mind slowly disappeared, your head barely registering the movements your body made to stay conscious. The soles of your shoes were too hard for your liking and you'd had to go sit down while you waited for Wanda to return. You didn't know how long it had been since that, but it seemed to be long enough for Steve Rogers to approach the cafeteria table where you were sitting with a tray containing the day's food.

“You look like you could use some of this.”

The blond gently pushed the tray until it was on your side of the table, and the smell of beef stew didn't take long to reach your lungs. It smelled good, to be honest. You looked down at the food and moved your hands to grab the silverware.

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm just waiting for Wanda. She went to talk to Fury.”

“I saw her coming in. She said she had a lot of things to tell.”

“She told me exactly the same thing.”

“And did you get to talk about anything before she left?”

You glanced at the fork in your left hand before looking up and meeting Steve's unconcerned face. You had learned very quickly that it wasn't too hard to get to know the captain in your position as opposed to how unreachable he looked to the rest of the population. He was a rough and tough man, but he would do things like bring lunch to a female shipmate who had a blank stare and sit down and try to chat with her.

He was good. Steve was good.

But he wasn't sneaky.

“If you want to know the verdict, talk to Strange. He's a close friend of Tony's.”

The man only sighed, his shoulders slumping in time with his breathing as if he'd been in alert mode all day.

“I didn't mean to sound so…. opportunistic.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You didn't sound opportunistic, Steve, you're just bad at trying to hide your curiosity,” you expressed with a small smile, but the man didn't look convinced by your words. “She's fine. She looks fine. She sounds fine. Whatever they had done, talked about or practiced, it surely paid off. I don't think you have anything to worry about.”

“She looked really scared before she left. You didn't see her. She asked me several times to communicate with you because she didn't know if it was a good idea to do that anymore.”

“She asked you that?”

“Yes. But the mission was very delicate, we couldn't risk it.”

You nodded in your direction, your gaze wandering back over the food.

“I just want her to be okay,” Steve mumbled and you almost missed the way his face contracted. His blue eyes found yours. “She's been through too much throughout her life and now this. It's like a joke of the universe.”

“She'll be fine. She has us. If she needs strength, she'll have plenty.”

Steve smiled, and then you took your first bite of beef stew.

You grimaced.

The blond frowned.

“Was the smell better than the taste, again?”

You nodded with your mouth full. Your hands went to the glass of water in the corner of the tray and you didn't hesitate to down the meat with all the liquid in it. You were almost never lucky enough to taste good lunches in that cafeteria.

“FRIDAY,” you heard Steve say.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Can you order a 12-inch tuna Subway on whole wheat bread with all the vegetables except the bell peppers and olives, please.”

“Right away, Captain.”

“That wasn't necessary,” you turned to the man as his gaze focused on yours.

“You can't go without eating.”

“I would have been able to place the order.”

“Mmm, really?”

“Of course! Do you think I waste the opportunity to spend Tony's money every chance I get? Even, I would have ordered more.”

“Oh, seriously?” Steve had a mischievous grin on his face and you furrowed your brow at his strange expression. “FRIDAY, make it three.”

You half-opened your lips.

“Sure thing, Captain.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“What's with the attitude? It's Tony's money, isn't it?”

You hadn't heard that kind of boldness from Steve very often, and when it happened it was a complete event to witness. The man was a stickler, everyone knew him that way. He didn't understand the word rest and most of his free moments were only used to keep reconsidering attack strategies. Steve wasn't one to let loose and go with the flow very often, but when he did it was something to be enjoyed.

“You know he doesn't mind, right?”

And the moment was over.

“No? I thought he still hated me from lying to him about the book.”

“Uhm…” Steve fumbled over his words and you were amused at the way his features scrunched up. “He doesn't hate you. He was just angry. Besides, it's been a long time, he probably doesn't even remember that.”

“I think he's going to remember that until he dies.”

“Steve.”

You froze in place.

Abort mission. Abort mission. 911. Mayday, mayday, mayday.

Steve looked over your shoulder and then back up at you, your eyes on the embroidery of his brown jacket. You tried to keep your expression composed and sent him a smile of assurance that even you couldn't believe. But you couldn't do anything else. You couldn't break down at that moment. Besides, he would most likely ask the blonde to come with him and Steve would go. You wouldn't really have to deal with anything.

“He's really coming,” you heard Steve mutter in your direction.

Your face scrunched up in confusion, and you watched his expression of poorly disguised panic. You had told Steve only once, days ago, that you weren't ready to talk to Bucky at all. And, apparently, he had made it his problem too.

“Are you busy?”

You heard Bucky so close that a shiver ran through your body. It had been weeks since you'd last heard his voice. On that mission.

“No, I was just talking to-”

“Captain.”

But what was this, the all-call-Steve-at-once festival?

You sank back in your seat when you recognized the Director's voice. If he was there, it meant Wanda must be coming with him, and judging by the contractions in Steve's face, going from confused to incredulous to dumbfounded to flushed, your friend was most likely waving him out of there.

“A word, please,” Fury spoke again, and Steve barely let a second pass before he sprung out of his chair like a spring. He gave you a look and you could almost see the apology written in his eyes.

“Buck, I'm sorry- I mean, wait here for me.”

“What?”

“I won't be late, I promise.”

“I can wait for you in the living room…”

“No,” Steve contradicted him sharply. You caught a glimpse of his stiff expression out of the corner of your eye. “Wait for me here, can you?”

You didn't hear an answer, but you guessed it was positive when you saw Steve's face a little more relaxed. He looked back at you and barely gave you a nod before he started walking toward the exit. You turned in your seat to see him, and barely caught a glimpse of Wanda's triumphant face before she hid behind the back of a naive Fury as she saw your gaze on hers.

That woman really had no idea…

The chair Steve was occupying shifted and Bucky appeared in your field of vision. He was looking anywhere in the cafeteria before he was looking at you. And well, that was good, it gave you time to analyze what you had missed in those weeks without any communication.

He clearly looked calmer. Even though you two were forcibly put in an uncomfortable situation, he didn't seem to mind too much. He looked a little tense, you could barely make out a twitch in his jaw, but other than that he was pretty relaxed.

You didn't know how to interpret that.

The last time you had thought about seeing Bucky again (which was that very morning when Natasha brought it up) you thought that one of you would run away without even a second's notice. It seemed that the only one too scared about that reunion was you. Surely Bucky hadn't thought about it for a single moment since the last time you were face to face.

And his hair. He had cut his hair much shorter than last time. Its ends were directed to the ceiling and you could no longer mess it up if you ran your hands through it. It would rearrange itself in seconds. His eyes were still the same, clear and bright as the clear sky, his expression just as stoic and unperturbed, his body leaning slightly to one side with his hands clasped in his lap. Almost everything about him remained the same except for his hair.

And except he couldn't look you in the eye.

You looked down where the tray with the stew was still intact. You didn't have anything else to distract you with so you grabbed a vegetable and popped it in your mouth.

Turning your head away, you missed Bucky's gaze on your face analyzing the grimace of disgust you were trying to hide.

You swallowed hard and grabbed the water bottle so that it almost slipped through your hands. It was empty.

You almost threw up on yourself.

“Are you okay?”

You met his gaze and froze. His wary eyes were on your face.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn't look like that food is good.”

“Because it isn't.”

You shook your head and pushed the tray away from your personal space once and for all.

“Why don't you order something else?”

“Steve already ordered me something.”

“Oh.”

And silence.

You usually enjoyed the quiet moments, when no sound flooded the surroundings other than your own breathing and the ramblings in your head. You could really enjoy your solitude and the quiet it brought with it. But this silence didn't come with solitude, it came with tension, strain, uncertainty.

You didn't know if you felt you should say something or if you felt you should run away. If you stayed you didn't know what to say to him and if you left you didn't know under what excuse.

Bucky's light eyes met yours again after wandering his gaze for a while around the room.

“Wanda's back,” was what he said.

You nodded.

“We came with her this morning.”

“Yes, Steve told me.”

“We don't have to do this, you know.”

His neutral expression turned chaotic for a moment. Then he went back to being unflappable as if nothing.

“We don't have to do what?”

“This. Talk like it's nothing. It's awkward.”

“Ah. You find it awkward?”

You furrowed your brow at his genuine curiosity. For a moment you thought he was being sarcastic, but his eyes detailed your expression intently, waiting for an answer.

“Don't you?”

“Why should I?”

“Can you stop answering with questions, please.”

Bucky averted his gaze. He repeatedly ran his hands over his jeans.

“I'm sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable I'll keep quiet.”

“Still, you don't answer my question.”

“It's not awkward for me,” he finally said, his slightly tilted head pointed in your direction. “It's just normal small talk. Between two people.”

You hummed a nod and your head moved in sync.

“It's easier for you to pretend nothing happened.”

Bucky shook his head, attentive. He narrowed his eyes and it didn't go unnoticed the way you tensed your shoulders as the words left your mouth.

“I never said that.”

“It's just what I can glimpse.”

“What you think you see is not true. I'm not trying to feign insanity.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot you're an expert at knowing what I think,” the words left you before you could process them and give them the proper filter, and you were sure Bucky had noticed the way your composure wavered for barely a second. If he had, he chose to ignore it.

You saw him twist his lips and lower his gaze, as if he suddenly felt distressed even though he wasn't the one who should be worried about something like that.

“You're angry.”

“And why would I be, according to you?”

“Maybe you were expecting a different reaction from me. You don't like what I'm giving you.”

You let out a laugh. “I never thought arrogant was your type.”

Bucky took in your gesture and mimicked it. Seeing a smile on his face after so long brought back images you thought you had sent far out into the ocean of your mind. Maybe you didn't feel your heart racing as it had so many times before, but you definitely felt something different from the fear and dismay that normally accompanied his memory. Even though you didn't want to accept it, you couldn't help but stretch a little towards that new sensation.

“I was joking. I have no idea why you're mad.”

The small smile on your face disappeared, and you allowed your head to wander down the paths of self-healing and self-improvement. Perhaps it was situations like these that your therapist always referred to. Stealthy confrontations that you usually used to avoid like rain, were the perfect moments to divulge a kind of self-reflection and improvement. To, perhaps, make known the emotions and thoughts you used to suppress and keep to yourself, the reason you had ended up that way to begin with. That was supposed to be what people normally did, to talk about their feelings…

So you just let it out.

“I'm not angry. I think I feel… embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Bucky cocked his head to one side, his eyes scrutinizing your face as if trying to figure out if you were being serious or not.

“For confronting you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Bucky. Here's to having you face me and confirming once again that you were right,” you rolled your eyes and took the moment to look anywhere in the cafeteria but into the blue eyes that wouldn't leave yours. “You were always right, I guess. No one else stood up to me like you did and I still lied to you looking you in the eye, wouldn't you feel the same way?”

The movement he made as he shrugged his shoulders drew your gaze, and met you with such a frightening familiarity that you felt old memories and feelings creeping up from the back of your mind to return to the surface. His calm gaze and tension-free body was what you had always been used to, and at that moment it was what you were seeing.

You didn't know how much you missed him until you saw it again.

“It's possible, yes.”

“The point is, knowing that doesn't make it any less complicated. In fact, it's a little harder to cope with. Being aware of the embarrassment… makes you more embarrassed.”

Bucky let out a short laugh. Your gaze didn't leave the way his corners turned up and then how his shoulders moved and his chest contracted in sync with that laugh. You hadn't noticed until that moment the change in the atmosphere around the two of you, much lighter and cozier, not at all hostile and toxic compared to the last few times you were together after the argument.

Mmm, maybe you were liking all that stuff about therapy. To be honest, up until that point you had discerned very few results, although some were quite important. Like, for example, you were able to keep your mind clear of self-destructive thoughts for longer, or that you could look at your past actions and reflect on them, determining clearly what things you were doing wrong and why it was wrong to do them. And there were many, many of them. Not just with the people around you, but more so with yourself.

However, in that moment, having Bucky in front of you and having been able to not only carry on a conversation for more than a minute with him, but also having been able to admit to him how you had felt and show true regret for what happened, you were able to understand that the change was much bigger than you had initially sized it up to be.

“It's serious. It complicates the process for me. That's why I didn't want to see you.”

He nodded without wiping the smile off his face. You could sense the understanding emanating through his gaze and, by the way he straightened his body, you knew he was going to give voice to the thoughts going through his head. Bucky usually kept his opinion of people to himself, he wasn't one to go around highlighting qualities in others unless he was asked or it was necessary for him to say so. Because of this, you could learn to tell when he was going to keep quiet about it and when he was willing to let it all out.

“Still, if it makes you feel any better, I can see you've come too far. Six months ago you wouldn't have said that to my face. I probably would have heard it from Sam who heard it from Clint when he eavesdropped on some conversation of yours with Wanda.”

You were really glad about what he just said, but…. what the fuck?

“Clint eavesdrops on our conversations?”

Bucky went blank. His features froze and the tension emanating from his body enveloped you both.

“Well… I only heard it once. Clint had said he'd upgraded the device for his hearing and was hearing three times as many things as he should. Among those things, he could hear you talking to Wanda in the next room.”

“I don't believe it.”

“There's nothing to tell you for sure that he did it again.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Mmm, two years, I think.”

“Did he ever say anything to you?”

Bucky didn't answer for a few seconds, his gaze seemed lost in yours, with a solidity and strength too forceful for your tolerance. You suspected the answer was positive, but received the opposite.

“He only told me what had happened. He never told me if he understood anything he heard.”

“Uhm, you're good at getting out of tight spots.”

He gave you another one of those smiles that felt like home.

“I've had years to practice.”

The silence that followed his words was much more welcoming than before. You seemed to be able to move around the masses of air so freely that all the tension in your body could disappear in a gentle breeze.

“I'm sorry this was uncomfortable for you, but it was good to see you. And hearing you.”

“It wasn't that uncomfortable.”

“You're squeezing your legs under the table.”

You looked down, surprised, though you shouldn't be. Bucky had always been good at reading your body language. It was almost like it was his way of communicating. And yes, you were.

“You rocked from side to side. Your hands never stopped clenching in your lap. You were uncomfortable.”

“Still, I don't regret what I said.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

You had a duel of glances and you longed for that comfort you had been missing for so long. During those almost seven months of barely seeing him and not speaking to him, you had learned to appreciate the little moments in life. And you were surprised to think that before you thought you were living your life as you were doing at that moment, the present, but you were not. You learned the cruel difference between existing and living, and it wasn't hard for you to deduce why you had had such complicated moments in your life some time before.

You had never lived anything. You went through your life as a tourist and many times you weren't even in the picture. You tried so hard and constantly to convince yourself otherwise every day that it ended up tiring you out emotionally, and in the process taking everything out on the one person who tried to reach out to help you.

“Buck!” Steve's exclamation echoed throughout the cafeteria, just on time.

You turned to see him in the doorway, his raised hand gesturing for the man in front of you to follow him. Bucky stood up, but didn't leave before turning a glance at you with a warm smile worthy of summer.

“I hope to keep hearing from you more often.”

“We'll see if you're worth it.”

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thelittleliars · 8 months

Text

Bodyguard

Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Warnings: anxiety/panic attack, alcohol, drunkness

Words: 3.3k

Summary: you are Natasha's bodyguard at a Comic Convention

AN: Hi everyone! Had this cute little idea in my head for a month or two and now it's finally yours!

Camera flashes shone into your faces, fans who were crying and screaming rang into your ears to the point it hurt to. Fans were pushing until people fell to the ground and got hurt. This was madness.. everything was just pure chaos. You were mad at the convention organizers, they either should have hired more security or simply sold less tickets. You were one of Natasha Romanoff's bodyguards for public events gor year already and not a single event had been as fucked up as this one. Yes conventions were an entire different story then red carpets or pride events but it still could have been all avoided if the organizers wouldn't have been so greedy.

Three other bodyguards of her and you tried to get Natasha from the entrance to the backstage area. But you moved in a snail pace since a tons of fans blocked every way to reach for the Black Widow. "Move out of the way!" You yelled over the loud noise. The disrespect of these people really got under your skin, you got extremely angry but you tried not to push the people harshly. You felt Natasha's small frame pressed against your back as you guys made your way through the large crowd. And since you knew her well, you knew in right that moment she was full of anxiety and most likely on the brink of an anxiety/panic attack. "IF YOU DON'T MOVE OUT THE WAY THEN NOBODY GETS TO SEE THE BLACK WIDOW AT ALL TODAY!" You threatened them. Something with the way you yelled it must had struck with a bunch of people since they backed off quickly afterwards. You soon could move smoothly towards the backstage entrance, where you made sure that Natasha was alright by guiding her to mimic your breaths. When that didn't work you tried another method. "What things do you see five times?" You asked her. She looked around. "I see five chairs." You continued with four things she saw. "Four pens." The two continued counting down. Three tables. Two doors. One apple. When you felt she was pretty alright you lead her to one of the chairs and brought a water bottle. "Here drink this."

Natasha appreciated you as her bodyguard so much, not only because you her only female bodyguard but also since you were the only one who always made sure that she was alright and if that weren't the case you helped and comforted her until she was her old self. "Thank you." You nodded your before kneeling in front of her, taking one free hand in yours and looked into her green eyes. Natasha still looked distraught from being mobbed but being with you helped her immensely. She concentrated on the feeling of your warm hand along with how they both fit so wonderful together. It made her heart clench with want. She actually longed to be closer to you, being her bodyguard was not enough for her anymore. The want to feel your touch every second of the day was consuming her thoughts, she also wished to know what your lips felt like on hers. But before she could think further you brought her out of those thoughts. "Are you good to continue the schedule at this convention today?" You asked with worry in your voice. It's another thing Natasha liked about you, you were a stone cold front for everyone but her. For her you were such a softie and always so goddamn gentle, it drove her insane. "Only with you by my side."

"Of course! That's what I'm being paid for." You teased her. "The autograph sessions are gonna be so fun so much fun." The evil smile on your face was something the Black Widow rarely saw but she knew you wouldn't do anything but sitting next to her and looking at the people in line who probably would be squirming underneath your gaze. That alone brought you joy and she knew that. After you guys met up with the other Avengers, they all went on stage and answered a bunch of questions from the interviewer and fans. It went smoothly except for some inappropriate questions that were directed to Natasha. The second they went backstage again and she saw you, she knew you were angry at the people who asked inappropriate and sexist questions. She put her hand on your arm, telling you everything was alright but it still didn't sit okay with you. It was 2023 and people still were asking questions when they just should mind their own goddamn business. Why would literally anyone want to know what she Black Widow is wearing underneath her suit? Anyone with an IQ can greatly assume it's underwear and even it she were naked underneath, in what world was that your business?? "I hate it too Y/N. But look on the bright side, that one guy who were beyond the line got an ass-whopping from a tons of fans in the audience. Not only that but Steve answered the question as if it was his."

"I really liked his answer. 'Would anybody really want to flash themself to the enemy if there's a malfunction with the suit or it gets torn in a battle?'" You mimicked him and his reply. "It was such a huge statement that shut that boy up real quick. In my opinion, he deserves more than just Steve shutting him up but I can't do anything about it, can it?"

Natasha shock her head. "No you can't but I appreciate what he did and what you'd do anyways." With a smile you lead her further into the backstage area and waited for the staff to get you to the next scheduled event.

Later when Natasha was hours into writing autographs, you noticed her hand and wrist movement being awfully off. You asked a staff member to bring an ice pack if not available then a cold wet towel. Instead of the staff guy you talked to, Natasha's manager, who was only there for these kinda public events, came with the ice pack you had requested. "How long do you think she can still last?" He asked you as he whisper talked to you. "An hour or two but no longer. If you ask me I'd arrange the queue in a way that all children with their supervisors should cut to the front, maybe even all teenage girls."

You glance at Natasha who brightly smiled at some girl who seemed to be in their twenties. "She'll work through the pain till the end of line of I know for sure that we have to cut it way before that so I'd really consider that at least these kids get a chance to get their superhero before we have to shut it down." He nodded then told you he'd discuss it with the organizers.

By the time he went away your attention was back to the red headed superhero next to you. "Gimme your wrist." She was stubborn and did not give you her wrist, acting as if everything was perfectly fine. You were patient enough though and waited a few minutes until the teenager who was talking to Natasha was gone. Next in line was a a mother with a girl that couldn't have been older than 5 years old. You smiled at them and politely told them to wait a second. "You either give me your wrist now or we have to cut short way sooner than you want to." You told the Widow sternly. She sighed but gave you her left wrist anyways. You gently put the gel ice pack, which was in a towel, onto her wrist to cool down the swelling that was caused by signing autographs all day long. While you held the pack in place, the small girl put down a cute stuffed teddy bear onto the table while sweetly telling Natasha that it's for her. You were about to take it and put it aside as you did with all her other gifts too when she beat you to it and let it rest against the front of her body. "The bear stays." You respected her request without saying anything, she talked with the kid for a bit before asking for her name to sign the poster that they brought with them. You let go of her wrist, she signed the poster with the girls name and thanked them for coming.

This time she took the ice pack from you herself and laid it on the table so that she could rest her arm on the table better and more comfortable. At some point Dave, her manager came back with convention staff and rearrange the queue exactly the you proposed to him. An hour later you saw it in her eyes that she couldn't do much more. You hauled down Dave and he cut the line after an elderly woman who waited in line for what seemed like hours. "What a lovely team you have! They were very nice to let me still meet you." The old lady started to ramble. "I'm not sure if you recognize me but you saved me and my husband at the alien attack in 2012! Oh sweet girl I have to thank you so much for that. The shock was deep afterwards and we had to see a specialist and they found something in my husbands organs and it literally saved him again. After his surgery and recovery we started traveling more and saw so many beautiful places before." She then gifted Natasha some crystals that they had found on their trips around the world. "Ohh I probably should hurry. Your people are waiting."

Natasha and you both answered her at the same time. You said that there was no rush and the superhero told her that she should take all the time she needs. The elderly had such a relieved look on her face that it made your heart warm. She introduced herself as Martha and she started telling you both, she included you by constantly looking at you and back to Natasha, how the Black Widow still became her idol at such an old age and how inspiring everything was with what the red head did. Before Natasha even came to signing the free autograph card, she asked Martha if she wanted to take a photo with her. The woman was bubbling over with joy. Especially when Natasha told her she'd sign another autograph card for her husband for free. And since some fans never went away and just stayed to ogle at the woman, some angry words were spewed out of jealousy. You gave each of those people a death glare that shut them up for good but you insisted for Martha to come with Natasha and your security. Fans were chaotic and it wouldn't surprise you if some people would get violent with her just to get her autographs and spread hate. Your goal was to protect both woman even if your job contained only to protect the superhero at all costs. After leaving the Black Widow backstage you brought Martha to her car and waited until she drove off. With the assurance that she left safely, you went back to get Natasha and the both of you got into the van that was designated for her to get driven back to the Hotel.

As soon as you arrived in your room you immediately jumped into the shower to clear your mind since all of your thoughts were consumed by how sweet Natasha was with the fans. By the time you were done, your stomach was a rumbling mess, looking through the menu you ordered yourself some fries and a burger thanks to room service. You changed quickly into a tshirt and some shorts, then looking at all your notifications of your personal phone that was hidden in the hotel room safe. A tons of it were from twitter, people tagging you in videos and photos, gushing and freaking out over how cute you & Natasha were together. There was a particular tweet with two photos attached that made your stomach flip. The first one was you looking grumpily at fans but Natasha was looking at you lovingly, the second was the exactly opposite. You were looking at her, what fans described as heart eyes, as she was smiling at a younger fan. You send the tweet to Natasha through iMessage with a simple 'lol' as caption.

Meanwhile, Natasha was sitting at the hotel bar with a drink in one hand and her phone in her hand. She also was looking through tweets that fans added her in. When you sent her that tweet she was staring at the same photo already. She felt butterflies in her belly when she saw the way you looked at her, so soft and protective. But that feeling vanished into a clump of anxiety when she read your message. The simple 'lol' to that tweet of you guys gazing at each other when the one of you wasn't looking was a punch to her gut. She quickly typed a reply in hope it would be a good answer.

Fans ship me with anyone who's 3 feet near me. Sorry you have to experience that.

I don't mind. I feel flattered that so many people actually think I have "insane chemistry" with THE Black Widow.

I'm still sorry about it all. It can get pretty intense with some fans. They ship people so much to a point that they'll get delusional of every single interaction.

Ahh so I shouldn't be surprised if at some point I see a tweet of someone being super convinced that we're married?

If that happens I'll definitely gonna fuck with them and post "hints" of my non existing relationship with you.

Maybe I should join in with your little jokes?

I'd love that. Wanna start already? I'll come over to your room after I finish my food?

I'm at the bar.

Ohh even better. I'll be down in 10. Don't have too much fun without your "girlfriend" 😉

Before she knew it a new notification from twitter popped up. It was you tagging her in a tweet.

After a long convention day w/ @BlackWidow I finally get some alone time with my date.

Her heart started to beat faster than it did before. She had to re-read it a bunch of times before it true sunk it that you meant her as the date. And then, suddenly out of nowhere you stood beside her ordering yourself a bottle of beer. "I'm wondering how you felt about today. Well rather about how you feel about this texan comic con compared to the other 3 we've been to."

She sighed not wanting to think much about today since it all was overwhelming and exhausting but she couldn't deny you this answer since she knew you wanted to know this for future events. You wanted to make sure that she was alright and comfortable after a day like today. "The mob in the morning was awful but the autograph session and panel was fine. You hummed while taking a sip from your bottle, still watching here face to see if there was any discomfort or hatred towards the convention but all you saw was the hidden exhaustion. She was masking once again and you hated seeing her like this, though you knew why she did it that moment, you both were still in a public space and both of you were always careful incase paparazzi's were around. "So you'd be up for another convention?" She nodded but also told you that it wouldn't happen anytime soon. The superhero needed time to process this huge overwhelming and exhausting event first. And that wasn't an easy task. When you suggested to move this little drinking party that the two of you had into your room, she was quick to agree with your idea. The more privacy the better.

While you guys had been in the elevator, one of the two of you started to giggle and then the other one joined in and now nobody could actually stop. The giggling died down as you walked out the elevator and immediately stopped when you went around the corner. Your ex girlfriend was coming your way and you did not want her to recognize you. So you turned back around to Natasha, who also stopped laughing, now with a worried look on her face. Before she could even ask what was wrong you asked her to kiss you. She shocked out a shocked what. "Just kiss me please. I'll explain later." The urgency in your voice was something that Natasha didn't miss so she stopped thinking and dived in. And what a kiss it was. You never thought kissing the superhero would get you so deeply lost and leaving you with wanting more.

Since you were so engrossed in the kiss, you almost didn't hear your ex scolding you both. "These kids from today.." You tried your best not to burst out into laughter right then when you still had your lips locked with the red head. As soon as she disappeared in the elevator, Natasha broke the kiss. "Kids from today? Apparently I'm not in my thirties yet. That's good." She said then looked back into your eyes. "So why the need for a kiss Y/N?"

You gulped hard while feeling heat creeping up on you since you now felt a little embarrassed to tell her the truth. "That was my ex." Even though you both saw her disappearing, Natasha took a double look to where ex just had been. She couldn't fathom you dating someone so much older. "You dated her? That clearly very old lady??"

"That was around ten years ago, alright? She was happily throwing more money at me than she was already paying me for and I loved the money." You told her truthfully. It was no surprise for you that she was shocked about it. "You worked for her and then became a couple?" You nodded shyly at her question.

"Don't judge okay? I was young and dumb." You were feeling the awkwardness, that was a first between you two, there was hardly ever a awkward moment between you. Not only the awkwardness but also the silence was killing you slowly.

Natasha on the other hand was thinking hard, if you mixed business with pleasure once already, would you do it again? Were you willing to kiss her? With the way you looked at her you had to, right? If the fans were seeing something between you two then there had to be some bit truth to it. But what if she overstepped and all of this was unconsensual? She'd hate of she was treating you the way other people treated her. Thanks to her overthinking she didn't notice her inching closer to you until she felt your breath on her face. That snapped her out of the deepest thoughts she was in. The world suddenly seemed to stop for the both of you. The kiss from earlier played in your heads like a broken record but before anything could go further Natasha distanced her from you. "I think I'm a bit more tipsy than I thought I were." She apologized and looked away.

"And I think I'm drunk since I want you to kiss me again." You sighed. That piped her interest. "Well we do have great chemistry." You smiled at her and nodded. "I won't deny that. But I'm afraid to cross that line again."

"We won't cross that line if it's just one night right?" You agreed to that then pulled her into a desperate kiss. Her hands went straight to your waist, pulling you even closer. You didn't know who starting dragging the other person into your hotel room, all you knew for certain was that the night was full of passion and satisfying all your needs.

What you both didn't realize in your tipsy-drunk state was that you in fact crossed that line by sleeping with each other. Even fans noticed that something had changed with you and Natasha.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x fem!reader

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myfictionaldreams · 10 months

Text

Everyone Is Breakable // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve and Bucky were invincible in your eyes. They'd never been injured or in a situation where you thought they weren't the ones in control. That is until one day Bucky doesn't return from meeting with a client.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, polyamory, threesome (F/M/M), angst, fluff, anxiety, death scare, Bucky goes missing, feelings realised, kissing, oral (F & M receiving), handjob, gay sex, vagina sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, size difference, sir kink, creampie, begging, edging, everyone has sex together (finally), not beta read

Words: 7.2k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Steve Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes were invincible.

Well, they were in your opinion anyway.

For the years that you’d been dating the two of them, they had done feats that were seen to be impossible to the normal person. But then again, they weren’t exactly normal.

There were secrets and rumours throughout Brooklyn that helped to create notorious reputations for the Rogers Mafia’s boss and Deputy that left people scared and yet curious at the same time. The main rumour that was derived from the truth was that Steve and Bucky had been involved in barbaric and ruthless experiments that altered their DNA’s to become the ultimate weapons. Stronger, faster, agility and stamina were all affected and had the enemies running in fear with the inhuman feats that could be achieved. Whenever the two of them were confronted and questioned, the men simply shrug their broad shoulders and smirked arrogantly at the opposer.

The rumours and intimidation only increased with the looming fear of Bucky’s unique metal arm that was made from the world’s strongest metal and liked to be his first weapon used where threats were involved. The enemies were quick to retreat when his leather glove was removed and his fingers clenched into a fist.

Their reputation was not the only reason why you believed them to be invincible but also because as of yet, there had never been a reason to be remotely frightened for their safety. Aside from the swaggering confidence they lived and breathed on a daily basis, other than the busted knuckles from the punishments delivered to the people who deserved it, they had never been injured, not even a black eye or busted nose. Nothing.

They were both so highly trained from their time in the military that they were able to hold their own more significantly than the other people in the same line of work as them.

In the past, there had been injuries and near-death experiences by both Steve and Bucky, before, during and after the military and enough to leave daunting silver scars from stab wounds, gunshots or injuries from other weapons. Especially Bucky and losing his arm during his capture within Hydra, the thick scars that encompassed the area between his shoulder and metal joining, he could hardly even discuss the brutal events that led to his arm injury, not without falling into a headspace that left him worried for everyone's wellbeing but again, that was because of Hydra and the fucked up experiments they performed on him.

Regardless of this, the rest of the events of near-death experiences would have left any normal person to lose their life, but not Steve and Bucky. They always bounced back, leaving you and your relationship feeling secure, safe and never-ending.

One day, one of them was not safe, and life was threatened so you didn’t know if they were alive or dead.

It was supposed to be a simple visit for Bucky, so simple in fact that he had decided to go by himself, leaving his bodyguard Natasha behind to look after Steve as he remained behind at the office. This was where you also remained with your guard Sam, sitting at the oak table, large enough to sit 10 people and usually reserved for important meetings but today had papers and laptops lazily scattered across as orders were processed. Unphased and unbothered, Bucky left with a quick wave and kiss on the cheek for you as he visited a client unaffectionately nicknamed Ross the Coward, for some undelivered money.

From your right, Steve watched Bucky closely as he left, fingers drumming on the surface of the table as he contemplated letting Bucky go by himself but the second in command was all smiles and confidence as he left to the meeting point. As soon as the office door closed, you were swift with unlocking your phone and clicking on the ‘find my friends’ app, watching the blue dot that represented Bucky’s location closely, a habit that everyone within the gang seemed to do to follow each other's locations and last whereabouts if anything were to go wrong.

From the corner of your eye, Steve also monitored the screen as well whilst continuing with the monotonous choirs of running a mafia gang by responding to queries and emails. It had been a long day for all of you, the type of boring work that had your eyelids heavy and body drained without so much as lifting a finger. Bucky had been almost bouncing off of the walls with boredom and when the opportunity to meet with Ross was discussed, he almost ran from the room in eagerness.

“He’s arrived”, you audibly confirmed to the group as Bucky’s dot slowed to a halt in a back alley somewhere in Brooklyn. Steve physically shuffled closer, his chair creaking under his heavy muscles as his arm slide around your back and rested against your hip, so he could move closer and watch the phone for a couple of minutes over your shoulder but soon became preoccupied by the bare skin exposed in front of him. You knew he was trying to distract you from obsessively watching Bucky’s dot as his lips danced across your sensitive skin, the fine hairs on your arms standing on end as a shiver brushed over your body as he reached behind your ear.

Your eyes closed to concentrate on the delicate touches of his full lips and the light scratch of his stubble but the pleasured moan that was teasing to escape on the tip of your tongue was soon replaced by a frustrated groan as Steve’s phone began to vibrate. The blonde gave an apologetic peck on your shoulder before returning his body to the work he was doing and your eyes continued to momentarily glance at Bucky’s location.

Half an hour passed and Bucky’s location hadn’t shifted, even by a single step the entire time. An unsettled heaviness rested in your stomach, but you tried to shake it off, Bucky was fine, it was only 30 minutes. However, those minutes ticked by and turned into an hour, by which point you were anxiously chewing on the skin surrounding your thumbnail which caught the eye of Steve.

Hanging up the phone, he turned his chair back towards you, knees knocking into yours as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist to ease the thumb from your mouth, “what is it?”

Nodding your head towards your phone you explained, “Bucky’s dot hasn’t moved in over an hour”.

Steve’s crystal blue eyes snapped to the phone at a sickening speed, the grip on your hand tightening by the slightest amount of force, not enough to hurt but enough to show his worries. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice low as leaned closer to the phone, studying the location.

“Yes, I’m sure”, you confirmed, trying to ignore the way your throat felt as if it was closing as you noticed Sam and Natasha now taking note of the situation as well. “It’s not moved at all, not even to show him pacing, I’ve used the app enough to know that it moves as you’re walking”.

Steve’s jaw clenched beneath his beard as lines formed between his eyebrows as they furrowed trying to decide the next steps. Releasing your hands, he turned towards Natasha, opening his mouth to order her to go to the location and see what was happening but the red-haired woman was already standing from her chair, shrugging on his leather jacket and confidently strutting towards the door, “Already on it, Boss”.

Steve tried to remain calm, for your sake anyway but you could tell but the ever so slight twitch of his hand that now rested on your exposed thigh, that he was unnerved by the situation. Sam had also tried to help your nerve by distracting you by making you laugh which worked for a whole minute before you returned to wringing your fingers in your lap, a movement that you usually did when nervous. “It’ll be ok Boss Lady, Bucky’s a big boy, he’ll be ok”.

Even with the heavy weight of Steve’s hand, your leg couldn’t keep still as you had the overwhelming urge to bounce your knee up and down to try and release some pent-up energy. Watching the phone closely, the dot that represented Natasha approached Bucky’s location and only then did his dot begins to move before Steve’s phone rang with Natasha's face and name appearing on the screen.

“He’s not here, his phone was in a trash can”, Natasha informed as Steve placed the phone on speaker so you could all hear.

You were out of your seat before either Steve or Sam. However, just as swiftly as you’d made it to your feet, a rough hand was just as quick to grasp your wrist in a gentle but firm hold, halting your plan to rush to the door. Frowning with a glare, you turned to look at Steve as he stood, not releasing your wrist. The expression on his face had your glare faltering as he looked at you in the way that you liked to call ‘Work Steve’. Jaw clenched and set, lines etched around his eyes with sternness and lips thinned into a tight line.

“You’re staying here”, Steve demanded without leaving any time to argue. No laughter or love in his voice like he usually reserved for when he spoke to you. There was only a strict command that was not meant to be argued against but you were simply not in the mood to sit around waiting for news, feeling unhelpful.

“Absolutely not, I’m coming with you”, your tone attempted to sound as stern as his but your voice wavered with the increasingly nauseating sensation blooming in your stomach.

Steve finally dropped your wrist but that was only because he had forced his chair back and was walking over to his desk at the furthest away point in the room, shoulders broad and muscles straining beneath the tight white shirt as he began to strap his guns to multiple locations across his body. As you watched Steve dismiss you without a single word, your hands began to shake with the adrenaline pounding through your body, and taking lesson than a second to decide between dealing with his wrath or continuing with your plan to help find where Bucky had gone.

You were halfway across the room before Steve suddenly shouted, “Sam!”, without even looking over his shoulders, his enhanced hearing meaning that he heard your footsteps rushing across the room. Your friend and bodyguard stepped into your line of sight at Steve’s command, his hands raised, palms facing you in an apologetic stance.

“Come on Sweetheart, let’s go back to our seat, I’ll get you a coffee or something-”. Without waiting for him to finish the sentence, you efficiently ducked under his arm and continued on your journey.

“I’m not waiting here, neither of you can stop me”. This was very much untrue as Sam’s arm circled your waist and easily trapped your arms to your side in the process as he overpowered you easily. “Sam, get off me!”

“I’m sorry, but orders are orders”, Sam to his credit, did sound apologetic as he held you firmly to his chest. This didn’t stop you from trying to wiggle your way out of his arms, even when it began to hurt with the amount of force you were putting into it, especially as Steve walked in front of you, now wearing his jacket to hide the multiple weapons he had strapped to his shirt.

“Steve please don’t go without me, I want to help! I need to help find him, please let me come with you!”

Your boyfriend had the decency to at least soften his eyes as he gripped your jaw firmly to keep you from moving and hold your attention. His voice was low and steady as he addressed you, his head dipped to try and hold your eye contact. “You will stay here, safe with Sam. I will go and find Bucky and I’m taking everyone with me to search for him and if we find-”. Steve’s confidence faltered enough that he had to shake his head to try and compose himself, returning to the same stern expression. “We will find him, I promise”. With that, he lowered his lips down to gently kiss your temple, breathing in the comforting scents of shampoo, before turning away.

A thousand thoughts were spirling through your mind as Steve turned away from you. Bucky was missing and without his phone. He could be hurt… or worse than hurt and now you had to stand there and watch as Steve went to the same location, leaving you behind to do nothing.

You began to fight harder against Sam’s hold, not caring that it might bruise your arms as you thrashed and twisted your body in an attempt to get free, needing to be there, hating the thought of waiting around helplessly. “Steve!” you shouted enough that it echoed around the room, please don’t leave me here!”

Your boyfriend didn’t acknowledge your pleas as he continued towards the door, shoulders hunched and heavy with worry and the need for vengeance seething through his boiling blood. Lifting his hand to turn the door handle, he was shocked as it twisted before he could even touch it, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun clasped to the holster on his belt as the door opened with a burst.

A dishevelled Bucky rushed into the room having heard your shouts from the end of the corridor, his chest rising and falling with hurried breaths, his jacked was ripped revealing his crisp white shirt to be stained with deep red blood that also crusted over the knuckles on both of his hands. “What’s going on?” he demanded, eyes darting wide and vividly blue as he took in the scene before him of Sam holding you back as tears had begun to flow down your cheeks.

“Bucky!” you screamed in relief, heavily tugging yourself out of Sam’s hold which loosened enough that you fell forward, stumbling slightly before brushing past Steve and into the arms of Bucky who was still confused as to what was going on. Your trembling hands wrapped around your boyfriend's neck as you cried into his shoulders, heart thumping hard in your chest as you felt his arms hug you close.” You’re ok! Thank god you’re ok”.

“What’s wrong? What is it? What the fuck is happening in here?” Bucky frantically asked in confusion, attempting to pull back from the bone-crushing hug so that he could inspect your face but you continued to hold onto him tight, scared that if you let go, he might disappear. When you didn’t answer, his eyes wandered to Steve and then Sam before looking back to his boss and best friend who finally stepped closer.

The mafia boss's eyes were unblinking as he did his own visual assessment, searching Bucky from head to toe and back up again and lingering on the red patches of his shirt. “Are you ok? Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance? Where have you been?” Steve asked, one worst stumbling into another as placed a trembling hand on Bucky’s shoulder, just to touch him and make sure that he was here and real.

Bucky continued to look confused between Steve and the top of your head from where you still clung to his chest. “Ye-yeah, I’m fine, what’s happened?” Bucky answered more firmly this time.

Taking a deep breath and smelling Bucky to try and ground yourself, noting the way the iron scent overwhelmed his expensive cologne. Trying to compose yourself, you quickly stepped back, releasing your hold on his neck to wipe the wetness on your cheeks from the tears that slowly came to a stop as you truly realised he was ok. As you backed up, you bumped into Steve’s chest and instinctively reached behind for his other hand that was hanging at his side and squeezed it, a silent conversation that was needed between the two as his thumb brushed against the back of your hand.

His other hand remained on Bucky’s shoulder, you could see that he was gripping the man firmly, not wanting to let go as he explained what had happened. “We thought you were missing, I mean - you were missing. The location of your phone hadn’t moved for an hour and when Natasha went to investigate she found it in a trash can. We thought something had happened to you”.

Bucky nodded slowly, processing the information as his eyes flicked between you and Steve. “A trash can? Those assholes…” Bucky muttered under his breath before he clarified what had happened. “Ross the Coward lives up to his nickname as he hired a team of security. They thought they had me cornered at one point but it was easy work to dispose of them but one of the little pricks stole my phone. Probably to stop me from calling for back up but I don’t need backup”, he shrugged confidently. “It’s sorted, their bodies won’t be found it just took some time to clean up the mess before I drove straight here”.

Steve’s chest relaxed against your back as he released a sigh, the tension easing from his body as he needed to clarify one more thing. “So the blood… it’s not yours?” he asked, nodding to the specks of blood on his shirt.

Bucky gave an arrogant, deadpan look. “Come on, do you have such little faith in me?” he pinched the shirt to emphasise, “all their blood, no injuries except a couple of split knuckles but even they are mostly healed”. Lifting his warm hand he wiggled his fingers and proved that there were no lingering cuts, only pink lines left breath all of the dried blood.

When neither you nor Steve responded as you processed the news and that he was ok and not dead in some hidden alleyway, Bucky had his own questions. “So what was all the shouting about? Why did Doll look like she was about to beat up ol’ Sammy boy over there?”

“Steve tried to be heroic and make me stay behind whilst he searched for you, even though it would have been better to have more people searching for you. I wasn’t going to just sit here and wait for everyone to come back”, you explained whilst still squeezing Steve’s hand.

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly before he tried to compose himself by straightening his spine, shoulders rolling back as he addressed Steve. “Oh? So you were going to come and save me? My wonderful knight in shining armour”, Bucky teased with a smirk, taking a towering step closer as you moved gently out of the way, sensing that the two men needed a moment.

Steve’s face was stoic and serious as he simply whispered, “Yes, you know I would”.

Bucky hummed, head tilting to look at you, contemplating for a second, opening his mouth with the plan to continue the flirtatious teasing but the words were lost in thought as Steve’s hand that you’d been holding lifted to cup Bucky’s cheek. He forced Bucky to look at him, his thumb pad stroking across the stubble covering his cheek, in an intimate way that had a warm feeling spreading through your heart.

Steve’s eyes were darting between Bucky’s, then continued on their own journey across the rest of his face, lingering for a second too long on his friend's plump lips as he needed to clarify one more time, “Are you sure you’re ok Buck?”

“Yeah, I’m fine Stevie”, Bucky confirmed, his voice barely audible with how softly he responded, no longer teasing or sarcastic.

“Good”, Steve trailed off for a moment, eyes watching his thumbs exploration across Bucky’s cheek. Your heart was pounding as you watched the interaction, the sincerity on the mafia boss’ face as he struggled with his emotions. “I thought you were hurt, I thought-”, he wasn’t able to finish his sentence as he took the final step closer, using the hand on Bucky’s face to pull him closer so that he could kiss his forehead tenderly and wrapping his arm around his shoulders in a tight hug, releasing a deep breath.

Your cheeks ached with how widely you smiled, your hands grasping together as you rocked on your feet, finding the moment endearing and intimate and clearly needed between the two of them. Over Steve’s shoulder, you caught Sam’s eye as he gave you a little wave before making a swift and quiet exit through the door, giving the three of you some much-needed time alone and so that he could call Natasha and give her an update.

Returning your eyes to Steve and Bucky, they were just relaxing their holds on one another but only so that they could gaze into each other's eyes one more. Steve finally took closed those last inches, making a decision he’d wanted to do for a while but was frightened of the dynamics shifting between them but those minutes of thinking Bucky was hurt, he wouldn’t waste another minute again.

Both seemed to relax and feel whole all at once as Steve tilted his head and kiss Bucky’s lips. Gently, their lips caressed together, taking a second just to taste one another, feel another pair of lips that weren’t yours, both thinking it would feel strange to kiss their best friend but it felt right like they were meant to be.

Biting your lip to hold back the gleeful gasp, you watched in wonder as your boyfriends became more heated, heads tilting and hands grasping onto each other's shirts, crinkling the material as their desperation increased to try and feel more of one another. You watched with increasing fascination and a powerful wave of arousal in your core that had your cunt pulsing with need but this wasn’t about you, it was about Steve and Bucky. The two had been more intimate over the last couple of months but neither made any move to take that step, even with your meddling and interfering so it was a relief to finally see them snap and be together.

Steve pulled back first but only as he grasped Bucky’s bottom lip between his lip, tugging on it until it snapped back to place with a pop. The two men rested their foreheads together, still sharing breaths with how close their faces were. “Don’t ever do something to scare me like that again, Buck”, Steve demanded softly under his breath.

“Yes, Boss”, Bucky quipped before leaning in again for a calmer, softer kiss.

For a moment, you contemplated leaving them to explore one another and have the alone time they both desperately needed but Steve seemed to sense your step towards the door as he released his grip on Bucky’s jaw to point towards you and then crooking his index finger in a ‘come here’ gesture. When he couldn’t hear you make your approach, he pulled away from the brunette with glassy eyes and puffy lips from the kissing as he tilted his head in your direction. “Room for one more, Baby”.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, not making any effort to join the two, “are you sure? You two look like you need some alone time and having enough time without me-”.

“Oh get over here already”, Bucky joked, with his signature chirpy smile on his handsome face, his dimples deepening as he reached over to you, taking your hand and pulling you closer.

The smile on your own face only stretched as you were pulled flush again Bucky’s chest as Steve moved around the man to his back, looking at you over Bucky’s shoulder with a flirty eyebrow raised before he was continuing his exploration of Bucky by kissing along his neck.

Grasping onto Bucky’s ripped jacket, you reached up on your tip toes and your lips finally stroked against Bucky’s. The two of you moaned, you even more so at tasting the hints of Steve on your boyfriend's lips, your tongue instantly easing out to taste more of him which Bucky was more than happy to open his mouth and accept the invasion.

Your fingers shook slightly with how firmly you were holding onto Bucky, the relief hitting you all over again that he was ok and really safe between you and Steve. You wanted to taste all of Bucky, needed to feel all of his body and even though you were used to being the centre of attention concerning the intimate moments between the three of you, at that moment, you and Steve needed Bucky to be looked after and praised.

So as Steve continued to tease Bucky’s throat, nipping and sucking on the sensitive flesh just below his ear, your hands loosened their grip but only so that the material could be pushed over his shoulders and allowed to be dropped to the floor. Your nibble fingers rushed to start unbuttoning his bloodied shirts but due to the emotions and adrenaline, it was a difficult and slow job so Steve took a handful of either side of the shirt and pulled, ripping the buttons easily and the material opening so that it too could be pushed over his shoulders and onto the floor, the buttons dropping and scattering all over the floor.

Not a single word was said at the action, other than a deep groan from Bucky as your nails scratched down his torso, feeling the bare, hot flesh beneath, the muscles tensing under your touch. Pulling back from the kiss, you desperately sucked in the air but only for a second as you left open-mouth kisses down his chest, feeling the light sprinkling of dark brunette hair that covered his chest, covering the previously mentioned scars from past injuries.

With his lips now free, Bucky had the freedom to tip his head back and to the side, giving Steve more room to tease and suck purple marks between his throat and shoulder, earning more desperate moans from the man.

Reaching around Bucky, you grasped onto Steve’s hands and pulled them around his front, helping the man to know where to touch the other, knowing that even though they had seen you fuck both of them, it was different having to do it themselves. Steve pulled back from dominating Bucky’s neck to cast his lust-filled eyes on you, smirking as he followed your lead as you moved Steve’s hands over Bucky’s abs and lower still until they landed on top of his belt.

Just before undoing it, Steve moved his lips to Bucky’s ear lobe, nipping with his sharp teeth before asking, “What do you say Bucky? Do you want this?”

Steve needed to hear him say it, that he wanted both yours and his touch. He was thankfully answered with a deep, aroused groan as Bucky huskily grunted, “fuck yes, don’t you dare stop”.

You and Steve shared an equally relieved grin before you dropped to your knees as the mafia boss continued to skillfully undo Bucky’s belt, clasp and zipper. This was where you took over, pushing the material over his firm arse until his trousers rested midthigh and you were eye level with his boxers-covered cock that was straining beneath the material.

“My favourite sight”, Bucky complimented, looking down at you and resting his hand on the back of your head as you smiled deviously up at him with wide eyes. With your hands resting on his toned, hairy thighs, you left the next step to Steve who thankfully continued undressing Bucky as he pulled the waistband of his boxers down, letting them join his trousers.

Now you were staring at the beautiful sight of Bucky’s thick, red cock that was already leaking beads of precum causing the tip to glisten. Glancing back up at Steve over Bucky’s shoulder, you raised an eyebrow to notify them that he should have the first touch.

With one large hand resting on Bucky’s abs, Steve’s other hand lowered and wrapped around the middle of Bucky’s cock. Bucky’s hips instantly thrust forward at the touch, his mouth dropping open as he looked at where he was being touched by his best friend, feeling the difference between having your smaller, softer hand and Steve’s big rough hand, deciding then and there that both were perfect.

SteveBucky'sd Bucky's cock a few times, spreading the precum and just trying to get used to touching another man's cock, noting the pressure he enjoyed and areas to give every attention to. Then, Steve held the base of it so that he stayed still and proud standing for you to inch forward and lick the tip.

“Fuck, both of you feel so good”. Bucky praised as he watched you as took more of his cock into your mouth Steve continued to hold it for you to suck as he subtly thrust his own clothed cock into Bucky’s back.

You thoroughly worshipped Bucky, loving the feeling for that moment of being in control with Steve, having Bucky between the two of you, moaning and losing his cool as you both pleasured him. His cock was salty and perfect as it lay heavy against your tongue as you attempted to take more of it into your mouth until it stroked the back of your throat, causing your eyes to water slightly.

You were so thoroughly aroused by the sight of Bucky rosy-cheeked and looking at you in awe with Steve still teasing him over his shoulder. Your thighs clenched closed, needing to feel some relief but nothing was what you needed so pulling off the tip of the cock with an audible pop, you nuzzled into his thigh with wide, hopeful eyes as you asked, “Please may I touch myself, sir?”

Bucky’s hand cradled against your cheek, thumb playing with your bottom lip that was already puffy from the blowjob you were giving. “Oh darlin’, you can do whatever you want when you’re looking so pretty like that for me”.

You grinned in relief up at him, turning to kiss his palm before straightening your stance on your knees once more but spread your legs, giving yourself room to drop a hand from his thigh to beneath your dress, pulling up the material until it bunched at your waist. You sighed in relief as you began to pleasure Bucky with your mouth once more but now your fingers could circle your clit over your soaked underwear.

“Doesn’t our girl look good for us, on her knees like that”, Steve joined the praises for you as he began to tweak one of Bucky’s nipples, causing the man to thrust deeper into your throat.

Bucky turned his head to make out with Steve over his shoulder, the two of them groaning as their tongues brushed together, tasting one another as you tasted Bucky’s cock. However, eventually, as Bucky’s cock began to throb harder in your mouth, did he ease your face away from him with a curse under his breath. “Shit, if you keep that up I’m going to cum already and I think… I think I want more, need to feel more”, he stated with a sense of uncertainty in his eyes with what it was exactly that he was asking.

You tried to decipher what it was that Bucky was asking as you asked him, “What do you say, Buckaroo? Think you can take Steve’s fingers better than I can? Is that what you want?” The throaty groan that Bucky released as he closed his eyes and cock visibly throbbed with more precum dripping from the end was answer enough before he nodded his head.

“Why don’t you take off the rest of your clothes Buck and help baby girl onto the table”. Bucky’s eyes lit up as he caught onto Steve’s idea but you weren’t sure why you needed to be on the table for Bucky to be fingers but either way, you accepted Bucky's helping hand to stand.

Bucky kicked off his shoes and remaining clothes, leaving him beautiful and naked. Then he helped you over to the edge of the table, hands resting on your hips to lift you up and onto it, making sure your dress was still clumped around your waist. With a simple snap of his metal fingers, the flimsy material of your lace underwear was destroyed and floating to the floor as he bent over, licking his lips with hunger devouring his eyes as witnessed your soaked pussy.

Without wasting another second his tongue was stroking between your pussy lips, sucking and licking your juices before circling your throbbing clit in slow, calculated circles. All you could do was cry out, using one hand to hold the back of his hair and the other to rest against the table behind you to keep you upright. Bucky didn’t stop with his pleasure, even as he lifted one of your legs and eased it over his shoulder, giving him more room to ease two fingers into your desperately clenching hole.

As you succumbed to the pleasure, you half noticed Steve walking over to his main desk across the room, rifling through his draws before returning with the emergency bottle of lube that was usually saved for you. But now, as you watched over Bucky’s shoulder, you finally realised what their plan was.

With the height of the table, Bucky had to bend over to attach his mouth to your cunt, leaving his ass bare and ready for whatever Steve had planned. The blonde muscular man admired the view for a moment, grasping the globes of Bucky's firm cheeks and spreading them slightly and biting his lip as he saw his target.

Steve liberally coated his fingers in lube, thoroughly spreading the gel everywhere and then also squirting some onto the hole directly. During the experimental times during hundreds of sexual encounters between the three of you, you’d been able to see just what Steve and Bucky liked being done to them. Bucky, much to his surprise, absolutely loved to have his prostate milked as you sucked him off and even though the last few times and contemplated using something bigger as sometimes your fingers just weren’t big enough however never got to the point of something bigger as he’d usually cum by the time Steve had found a reasonable size dildo for him to use.

Steve had been just as reluctant but seeing the way Bucky responded to your fingers had wanted to try it as well had found that he liked a rimjob and a couple of fingers to stroke his prostate and had thought about asking Bucky to fuck him multiple times but once again, never made the move to do so with the fear of the relationships changing. Now however, there was no stopping him from asking but that would be for a later date, today was just about Bucky’s pleasure and giving him exactly what he wanted.

“We are still using the traffic light system, Buck, if you need to stop or pause it's yellow or red, understand?” Steve stated in as serious of a tone as he could muster as he watched Bucky continue to eat you out.

“Mmm, understood”, Bucky agreed, nodding his head which only stimulated your clit further as he mumbled around it.

Steve nodded and began to press his thick, rough and thoroughly lubed finger against Bucky’s hole, being careful to rock it in and stretch the muscle, not wanting to hurt him but Bucky wasn’t having any of the teasing today. With a throaty grunt, he pushed his hips back and took the entire length of Steve’s index finger, loving the hinting of the stretching burn.

He fully removed his face from your cunt to praise Steve, “fuck that feels so good, please Stevie, give me more, I need more”. Then he was right back on you again, fingers curling right against your spot and lips sealed around your clit, sucking it into his mouth. Your moans of pleasure were driving him insane and his cock was continuously leaking drips of precum, he didn’t have much longer before he came and wanted to still make it long enough to soak your pussy with his seed.

Steve gawked at the sight of his finger disappearing inside his best friend's asshole. His own cock was painfully hard and het to feel any relief but he didn’t care, needing to see just how far Bucky could go before even beginning to think about himself. Feeling the muscle beginning to relax and adjust to the side of his finger, he began to inch it in and out, ignoring Bucky’s pleas for more, and instead going deciding for himself when Bucky felt relaxed enough.

Steve finally added another finger, spending some time working the hole wide and teasing his prostate within, feeling Bucky shivering and gasping with how good it felt. Even having to stop on occasions as Bucky frantically tried to calm himself down and not cum yet.

You, on the other hand, had already came twice on Bucky’s mouth and fingers. You were so sensitive and so thoroughly aroused by Bucky's skilful body but hearing and seeing just how much Steve’s fingers were making him feel and especially knowing that Bucky was practically edging himself just sot hat he could cum in your pussy.

You were trying to catch your breath from the last orgasm, your back flush against the table as your arm couldn't hold your weight up anymore with your limbs now feeling like jelly. Bucky on the other hand was teasing and nipping your thighs, giving your sensitive pussy a moment to rest before he planned to fuck you.

Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky’s pupils were blown so wide that his eye colour looked black, your juices soaking his chin as he demanded, “Steve if you don’t fuck me right now, I can promise you right now that when we get home, I won’t suck your dick like I’ve been planning too since you ripped open my shirt”.

Steve’s eyes darkened just as much as Bucky's as he pulled his fingers out of Bucky’s slightly gaping hole and began to undo his belt and zipper, reaching into trousers and boxers and easing out his aching cock. He didn’t bother with removing any other article of clothing as he helped Bucky to stand up, the two of them shuffling forward so that Bucky could line himself up at your dripping cunt.

You lazily opened your eyes, grinning at the sight of Bucky preparing to fuck you with Steve over his shoulder. Both of their cheeks were flushed pink and their bodies trembling with the anticipation of the fucking that was about to take place.

Bucky rested a hand next to your head, leaning down for a second to delicately kiss your lips, “colour?” he asked, noting how cock drunk you already looked.

“Very, very green”, you responded, lifting your hands to cup his cheeks, pulling him into one more kiss before you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, He slowly entered you, your pussy stretching and pulsing around him as you tried to take his full size, thighs trembling with the exertion until the two of you were full fitted together.

Bucky kissed your exposed shoulder as he spread his stance slightly, making it easier for Steve to slide behind him and rock his cock between his arse cheeks, smearing the excessive amounts of extra lube over his shaft.

“I need to hear your colour too, Buck”, Steve demanded, one hand on the base of his cock and the other wrapped around the form of Bucky to grip his jaw, tilting his head so that his mouth was next to his ear.

“Very, very green”, he repeated your words back with a content smirk and you could feel his cock throb inside of you as Steve kissed his jaw.

All three of you seemed to hold your breath as Steve carefully slid his thick cock into Bucky's hole. A wonderful chorus of moans and groans filled the air. Steve couldn’t believe how good it felt to be inside of Bucky, finally doing something he had wished to do for so long. You were almost close to your third orgasm just from watching your boys fit together, and you could also feel just how much it was affecting Bucky with how hard his member was inside of your cunt.

Then there was Bucky, who had next felt such overwhelming pleasure before in his life. For his hole to be the most stretched and full he’d ever experienced, his prostrate being heavily jabbed by Steve’s cock and for Bucky’s own cock to be in his favourite place in the world: your warm, tight, wet pussy. He was in heaven. You all were.

Steve did most of the thrusting for all three of you. With a heavy hand resting on Bucky’s shoulder blades, he pushed the man forward and began to rock his hips back and forth. The momentum shifted Bucky's hips to them move in and out of you until all three of you were moving together.

Bucky was trembling with how much he was trying to hold back his orgasm, a constant stream of filthy moans floating from his mouth as he tried to get you to your third orgasm. However, because you were already so sensitive and overwhelmed with emotions, all it took was a couple of heavy-handed circles of Bucky metal fingers against your clit and you were arching your back, pussy fluttering and tightening in bursts around your boyfriend's cock.

“Holy fucking shit, Doll, feel so good, I - I think I’m going to cum already, fuck Steve don’t stop”. Bucky's gasps and pleas were just as desperate as his expression as he tried not to cum, tried his best to hold back his orgasm but it was no use.

Especially as you cupped his cheek and begged for him to find his own relief, “Please Bucky, want your cum in me so bad, need to feel you filling me up, cum for me”.

“Shit- Ah!”, he grunted, eyes clenching closed as he purposefully still his hips against Steve’s fucking, his mouth gaping open in a deep moan that you would remember for the rest of your life as one of the most beautiful sights you’d ever seen.

You could feel him, the pulsing of his cock, the thick load soaking your walls. Steve could too as Bucky’s hole clenched so hard his cock was suffocated and Steve joined the two of you in your erotic orgasms, his hips stuttering to a stop as his hot seed pumped into Bucky until finally he collapsed against Bucky’s back.

Bucky was half laying over your body against the table so you could easily run your fingers over the back of his head and also through Steve’s as you all tried to process what had just occurred and the relationship that had changed, and all for the better.

“So… how does it feel to be railed by Steve?” you asked innocently to Bucky. The man chuckled deeply, his chest vibrating against yours.

“Probably as good as it felt to be railing you”, he joked, causing you and Steve to laugh. Life was going to be very interesting between the three of you.

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

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