#au: mafia

[toiletwipes]

to prove myself to you | mafia!wilbur

~1.8k words / back at it again! this time with a mafia au! The hoes were talking about him and when they brought up this gem of an idea- I couldn't help myself. Again. Lmao. Anyway! Tagging these hoes @consequencesbylovejoy @lillylvjy @drop-of-void @tr1ental1s-boreal1s

[Wilbur is tasked with getting information from a rat from their local rivals. You, being the bartender, happen to be the rat. Try not to get killed.]

Title from Demolition Lovers by My Chemical Romance

I'll be doing a part 2 when I get home <3

~~~

He's fresh out of a job, blood staining the better part of his shirt but his blazer covers what the dimmed lights don't. He usually doesn't come in here, especially with the way he can feel eyes being trained on him.

It's not his territory, this club. However, Phil put him on this job- and the job calls for him to be here. At this club. That belongs to one special, sicko. Luckily, if the rumors are true, he doesn't come down from his office.

Still. Right now, even with the music pumping through his veins and the bass vibrating through his chest, he's got to stay focused. Find the girl. Get the info. Get out. That's all it is. And if that's all he's got to do after removing various body parts from the other sad fucks in the underbelly of this godforsaken town, then that's what he'll fucking do.

So, with the lights dimmed, and with other lights flashing and creating a dizzy sight, he heads straight to the bar, his sights set on the person tending it. Weaving his way through the crowd, he doesn't mind the additional jab to his ribs and stuff. Hisses at the contact but moves on. He's on thin ice being here, he's not about to get himself killed getting some information.

With the lights both dim and bright somehow, he only has one thought when it comes to the bartender, reaching one of the free spots up front. The bartender is quiet. Aside from sliding the drinks to the patrons, flashing a smile, all they're doing is making drinks as fast as they can. Wearing a black button up, sleeves rolled up and the top three buttons undone, showing off skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. And when they notice him, quiet as they are, they don't stop, but their eyes never leave him.

"Can I get you anything?" Their voice breaks through the pulsating music, eyes trailing down his face, down his shirt and past the blood that peaks from his collar.

"Looking for Lionel, have you seen him?" The phrase he was given to use, to make sure nobody gets any ideas that somebody is trading industry secrets in their fucking house.

And it's then, he knows it's you. You're the informant, your body stops moving so fast, eyes locked permanently on him. "He's not here, can I offer you something on tap?" There it was, your hand lands on the slick surface, so close to his and if he didn't know you, or need the information you have on these people, he'd slam the knife that sits delicately in the inside, jacket pocket, straight through your hand, through the tendons and bones and tissues and right into the bar.

He doesn’t do that, especially when your eyes are as lit up as yours, biting on your lip like that. He's on a job and this is an act, a cover for your ass, specifically. And he'd do well to make sure the cover works. Especially for someone as… appealing as you.

(He's not immune to a pretty face. He can hold himself back from indulging in a night of fun, but this is a mission that can turn sour very quickly. And if this wasn't as delicate as it was, tonight would turn out very differently.)

"Nothing on tap, you have something light?" His hand twitches from beside yours, as he waits for something, anything. Phil told him he could get a file, whether that's a USB or a literal manilla file, or it's just a slip of paper. But the information is crucial, vital enough it could take their order down if the information is handled properly. And Wilbur is nothing but a proper handler.

Your lips twitch up into a smile, "I just might have something, yeah." Pulling bottles down, cups here and there, portioning it out, you slide a drink his way on a napkin. "If you don't mind waiting, I get out in five." Your expression reads flirty but when you slide your hand down his bare arm, your skin is not only cold but tense.

Definitely the informant.

So, turning around, he eyes the crowd that weaves and bobs like water, bouncing and moving and crashing to the beat of the music. It's a cesspool of life and crime, waiting to pounce in the folds of these clubs. He's all too aware of it.

"Wilbur, didn't expect to see you here." He hears his name and he almost loses his cool. Some guy, Jared, he used to know. Until he became a rat and joined someone else's ranks. He didn't matter the moment they found out.

He matters now, though.

"I'd say it's good to see you, Jared, but ah, it's not." He flashes a quick, all teeth, smile, a glare coming down fast after.

"Look, it was nothing personal. And besides, that's all in the past." Jared waves off the threat like it's nothing. Like Wilbur couldn't kill him and get away with it, in here. On someone else's turf. But, sure, nothing personal. "Have you met Baby?" Jared turns toward the bartender and this could not possibly have gone worse.

When Jared and him are turned back towards you, you send them a confused smile, "Jared? I thought you were out of the city?" He can see the panic underneath the mask you wear, see the anxiety budding underneath your fingers.

A beer almost slips from your hands as you hand it over to Jared, and he sees the irritated, angry skin on your forearm. Bad habit of scratching, especially under stress. This doesn't spell good news for you, maybe him if Jared doesn't leave before you.

"They called me back, said they needed me to take care of an infestation. You know how it is." And Jared takes a swing, and in the second his eyes close, your mask slips and you're begging him for help. Fucking christ.

"Sounds like you shouldn't be drinking on the job." Wilbur says, pulling Jared's eyes away from you. He sees the relief in your mask but he keeps his gaze focused on the man in front of him. Jared shrugs, turning away from them entirely, sighing through his teeth.

"I just got back in tonight, they said I can start tomorrow. So, if you'll excuse me," he turns fully back to him, pulling out a fist full of crumpled notes, slapping them on the bar. "Tonight's on me, hope we can forget about our grievances." His eyes flit to you, mindlessly wiping glasses. "Take care, Baby."

When he leaves, Wilbur scoffs, sipping from the glass. Grievances. Like he didn't get his entire family almost killed.

Finishing the drink, he stares down the glass for a second before placing it down, watching you take that and the money too. He waits two more minutes before you untie the apron around your waist, shoving it in a cubby under the bar and barreling through the door beside the wall of liquor. He doesn't hesitate, finding his way out of the club, more eyes than ever fixated him. At least five more heads than before. He breathes in the stuffy club air before pushing the door with a little more punch than necessary, it bangs against the wall outside and the line of people give him dirty looks. He holds up a hand, half apologizing and walking away. Heading to the other side of the club. He walks three blocks before making it to his car, and in the back seat, he finds you.

"How did you know?" He asks, turning the key in the ignition.

"Jared complained about your car all the time when he first came around. Couldn't get him to shut up about you. Did you two have a thing going on?" Your eyes light up with mirth, one of your hands reaching down and lightly scratches at the skin of your forearm.

"He was a close friend before we knew he was a rat." And the silence that overcomes the cab of the car is nearly deafening. "So, what-" he wipes under his nose, pulling out from beside the curb, "-do you have?"

"Rufus has a son, nobody knows who it is. But he's planning on celebrating the kid's birthday with only a handful of his most entrusted members. Here's the location, blue prints, the fucking schedule. All of it. Everybody you need gone? They'll be there. Two days from now."

Wilbur watched as you pulled out a folded band of papers, watched as your hands shook holding them out and watched your hand scratch as he took them from you. He places them neatly in the passenger seat. He continues to drive. "Thank you." If they get the details sorted out within the hour, their rivals will be nothing but a memory this time next week.

"What about your side of the deal?"

"My side?" He repeats, eyes flickering to the rear view mirror and he finds yours in a desperate squint.

"Phil said if I gave you the information, you'd get me out of here." He lays a foot made of lead on the brakes and the car, thankfully miles away from the club and anybody that mattered, screeches to a stop. He hears you curse as you latch onto the headrests before he turns around. You're panting as your eyes lift up to his. "What the fuck?" You gasp and he doesn't say anything. Not yet.

"My job was to take the information and get it to Phil. Now, considering you're probably known as Baby, and not just Jared referring to you in a sick, sort of pet name, you're not just some bartender. Are you?"

He can hear your teeth grind as you growl out in frustration.

"Even if I was some bartender, if they found out I was telling you this, they'd kill me."

"But you're not some bartender." You're trying so hard to maintain eye contact but in the end you bite the bullet and turn your eyes down.

Your voice is small, shaking, "are you gonna take me somewhere safe or not?"

"Are you going to tell me the truth?"

You laugh wetly, turning in your seat to look out the back of the cab. Wiping your eyes before you spoke, "the truth is Rufus… owns me. He finds out I ratted him out- he'll-" your choke on your tears, gasping for air as you think harder on a fate worse than death.

He faces the front. He taps the wheel before cursing under his breath.

"Fine. I'll get you somewhere safe." They only had one place safe enough where you could make it out alive by the end of this. He takes you to his house. "If you rat us out-" he begins, parking the car in a spacious garage but you shake your head.

"I promise I won't." A promise didn't mean much from a rat, but from someone who's desperate to get out? He turns the car off and turns in his seat again, your face streaked with tears and a shuddering breath.

"Okay. Let's go."

He couldn't resist a pretty face in the end, after all.

[star-my]

Vixen ~ Chapter One

➼ Pairing: Park Jimin x OFC (Shin Ara)

➼ Length: 5.7k

➼ Rating: pg-15

➼ Content: Arranged Marriage AU, CEO AU, Mafia AU | TW: Medical Issues (resolved), Mentions/Discussion of Human Trafficking (not by BTS or SKZ members) | JK is Ara's BFF and bodyguard and Best Boy; Bangtan and Stray Kids are mafia; think Kitty Gang Jimin; flirting and fluff; multiple ARMY and STAY easter eggs sprinkled throughout (I welcome comments detailing which ones you caught); author does her best to beat the Wattpad allegations and fails miserably, which is funny because she went straight to ao3 and skipped the orange app phase

➼ Many thanks to @kookthief @moonleeai & @yoongiobsessed for betaing this chapter&lt;3

➼ Taglist (Open): @bangtan-famiglia-net @kookthief @otome-wandering

➼ Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and in no way represents any member of BTS, SKZ, or any other K-pop group mentioned in any way beyond the face and name claims the author made for this work.

➼ Chapter Two (14/10/23) ➼ Chapter Three (15/10/23) ➼ Masterlist ➼Ao3

The door to the opulent room swung open soundlessly, allowing the tall, muscular man to enter unnoticed. He cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the young woman seated at the vanity.

“Your father has requested your presence ASAP. When will you be ready?”

The woman glanced up from her careful application of sparkly gold eyeliner.

“Give me five minutes, Kookie! Is he home?” She moved towards the walk-in closet across the spacious bedroom.

“He’s at the office. I’ll bring the car around, then.” The woman’s bodyguard –but first and foremost her friend– left, and she began the process of accessorizing.

Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled up to the tall office building in downtown Seoul, the headquarters of ShinCorp.

As the heiress of ShinCorp, Shin Ara was immediately escorted to the CEO’s office and served tea by the secretary.

“Appa?”

Secretary Kim set the tray on the coffee table, leaving father and daughter to their meeting.

Ara glided gracefully over  to warmly hug her father. “Jungkook told me you wanted to speak with me about an urgent matter. Is something wrong?”

Shin Jungok sighed, lowering himself onto the sofa across from his only child. “No, nothing is wrong. What has my beautiful daughter been accomplishing lately?”

Ara crossed her legs, smoothing her ruffled swiss-dot skirt over her knees. “I’ve been looking at property for my gallery. Other than that, I’ve been rather quiet. You’ve been busy with work, so I haven’t wanted to disturb you, Appa.”

Jungok smiled. “You are such a respectful child, Ara. Yes, I’ve been occupied with work. I just finished a meeting with the new CEO of Park Group.”

“Oh, their former CEO died recently, didn’t he? His son took over, I suppose? Awfully young to be CEO,” she mused.

“Yes, he’s only twenty seven, but he has a good head for business. We’ve never partnered with the Park Group before, though a contract was once drawn up between us. I guess he’s trying to show the board he’s capable despite his youth.” 

“Maybe he’s capable because of his youth,” Ara arched her brow at her father.

Jungok took a long sip of his tea. “Ara, are you seeing anyone?”

She blinked at the non sequitur. “Uh…no? I’ve been busy planning my gallery. I haven’t had time to date.”

“Park Jimin asked for your hand in marriage,” Jungok stated simply.

Ara stared. “What?”

“Will you at least think about it? I’m sure he’ll take good care of you and be a good husband to you, and if we make this partnership, he’ll be more solidly accepted as a businessman. You know I’m getting older, and ShinCorp will stay in our family when I retire. I am proud of you for following your own path, and a little pleased that you do not want to take over ShinCorp, but I want to make sure you are taken care of.”

“May I see the contract?”

Jungok handed her the portfolio, and she read through it carefully. “Will ShinCorp go to Mr. Park or to our children?”

“Mr. Park will have a share and your children will receive the rest. Until they come of age, you and he will have joint control over the company,” Jungok explained. “I know you don’t want to be CEO, but we must take caution in this day and age. I know you will make sure ShinCorp is run according to our mission statement.”

Ara hummed an acknowledgment and flipped over a page.

“Do you have Mr. Park’s number?”

Her father looked up in surprise. “Are you sure? I’m not pressuring you, Ara!”

“I know, Appa. I accept his proposal.”

“Well, I believe he left his card…” Jungok moved to his desk and shuffled through some papers. “...here!” He handed it to Ara.

“Er…the marriage is best announced and signed on sooner rather than later.”

Ara barely glanced up from creating a new contact in her phone.

“I’m aware, Appa,” she said briskly. “Will next Saturday work? I saw the perfect dress when I was out shopping with Unnie last week. I’ve been planning my wedding since I was a little girl, Appa.”

It was Jungok’s turn to stare at her. “In just over a week?”

She smirked. “Money is king, is it not? I’ll get everything done in time.” She patted his shoulder on her way to the door. “Leave it to me.”

~~~

Twenty minutes later, Ara slipped into her car. She clipped the seatbelt in, and Jungkook took off. 

“You’re looking at the future Mrs. Park Jimin!” she announced cheerfully.

“What?!” Jungkook swerved, then corrected the car.

“I’m marrying Park Jimin next Saturday if that works for him.” Her phone pinged. “Speak of the devil. ‘Yes, Saturday is perfect. Thank you for accepting my proposal. I am sorry it is so short notice and businesslike,’” Ara read aloud. “He sounds decent. Good.”

“He’d better be more than decent,” muttered Jungkook darkly, turning a corner smoothly.

Ara cooed. “Aww, are you worried about me? You’re the one who trained me for my black belt in taekwondo.”

“It’s literally my job, Ara!”

“I know, but still…Anyways, can you drop me off at the Whalien Cafe so I can meet all the girls at once?”

“Sure. Should I come in?”

“If you want. Have you ever tried their special 52 Hertz menu item? It’s sooo good.”

“No, I haven’t. I’ll come to crowd control your friends and try it while I’m there.”

“Wise choice.”

Ara and Jungkook walked into Whalien Cafe and ordered, then joined the five girls at two squished-together tables. Ara’s friends and unnie updated her on their lives since she had seen them last, then Ara dropped her bomb.

“Will you be my bridesmaids next Saturday?”

There was a beat of silence, then complete chaos erupted.Once they calmed down, she explained the situation. They immediately agreed to be her bridesmaids and began planning.

Ara explained her vision, then sat back as the ideas ran wild. By the end of the afternoon, she had a list of her favourite suggestions and a promise from each of her friends to join her the next day for dress shopping.

The friend group had met in college, except for Ara’s unnie, Kim Sihyeon. Sihyeon was the cousin of Jungok’s PA, Seokjin, who Ara viewed as an older brother.

Ara’s mother died in a car accident when Ara was eleven and Jungok immediately hired Ara a bodyguard-chauffeur. Jungok had Jungkook befriend Ara and trained him to become her new bodyguard-chauffeur when he was old enough. The other four members of the friend group were Jennie, Rose, Jisoo, and Lisa. They’d all been dorm mates in college and were quite close.

~~~

After a light supper, Ara spent the evening reserving things and purchasing necessary items for her upcoming nuptials.

Her phone dinged with an alert. Curious, she turned from her laptop and tapped on the message.

PJ: You’re certainly very organized! I was honestly expecting a month at best. I have people working on a story of how we met earlier. Here’s a link to the rough draft. Make whatever changes you want.

Inquisitive, Ara tapped on the link to the document, a professional publicist’s work, of course. It was well-written, if a little sensational, but she frowned at the extra drama sprinkled in, such as their coincidental meeting in Italy in the spring and their secret romance (none of which she recalled).

SA: Why do we need an article? Do you need this for appearances? *I* don’t mind being ‘just a business marriage’. It is a good story, though:)

PJ: I thought you would want it to seem as normal as possible. You are quite intriguing, Miss Shin.

SA: Good;) Let’s just release a formal announcement stating we’ve decided to get married. The media really doesn’t need anything else.

SA: I have the place and time booked for the reception and ceremony. Is there anything you’d like me to add, like family traditions?

PJ: Whatever you like. I will be giving you my halmeoni’s ring, if that’s alright with you.

SA: Of course! One final question…pink?

PJ: It’s a decent colour?

SA: 👍

A light knock echoed from the heavy wooden door, then a man popped his head into Jimin’s private office.

“Hey, Boss, there’s a box from your fiancée.”

“Bring it in,” the man behind the desk ordered. 

He carefully opened the box and lifted out a pastel-pink silk tie. The paper inside read, “I hope this hue of pink is a decent enough colour to wear to our wedding. If this is satisfactory, text me and I’ll send over the rest for your groomsmen. Black suits, please. ~SA”

Jimin smiled a little at the slightly wonky smiley face Ara had drawn beside her name and carefully replaced the tie.

PJ: It’s perfect. Thank you.

A woman all in black walked purposefully into the old warehouse. Several men and a few women were working busily in the large space, barely looking up at the click of her heels.

The door to the private rooms built into the warehouse swung open with the slight squeak of a hinge needing oil.

Gold eyes scanned over its occupants.

“Where’s Hyunjin?”

“He’s restocking the medical room since he got his new supplies,” answered a man with vermilion hair, stretching from his slump over a computer.

“Thanks, Chan.”

A tall man with long black hair popped out of a side room. “You called, Boss?”

The woman nodded shortly, clapping her hands for attention. “You all know that since Park Wonshik died, Bangtan’s been targeted. Well, the head of Bangtan had a brilliant idea to partner with the Grays, business-level and gang-level, through marriage.

“The head of Gray’s daughter is marrying Park Jimin on Saturday. The other mafia will find out tomorrow. With Bangtan and Gray united, the mafia  looking to take over Bangtan may set their sights on smaller game, so we need to be prepared for any backlash against us.

“Minho, you figure out if the others are planning to attack anyone. Hyunjin, find out how much Bangtan has on Stray Kids. Everyone else, get ready for an attack, worst-case scenario.”

“Yes, ma’am!” saluted the eight men in unison. They turned to their tasks, leaving Chan to approach the woman.

“Vix, you sure about this?”

Vixen’s blood-red lips curved in a smile. “Don’t worry, Channie. I have everything under control and I have plans for every variable, just like oppa taught me.”

Chan sighed. “Alright, then. I trust you, Vix.”

“Boss, here’s the file on Shin Ara you wanted.”

“Thanks, Hoseok.”Jimin took the file and flipped through it.

Good grades, though they slipped the year her mother Aeri died; friendly but only had a handful of close friends- four girls she met in college, four of her father’s employees, and one ex-boyfriend, Lee Minho, whom she was still friendly with. Graduated high school and college with honours, has an arts degree in photography, and had recently purchased a building on the edge of downtown Seoul for a gallery.

Who are you, Shin Ara? Why did you so readily agree to marry a stranger?

Jimin mulled over the possibilities, staring at her picture on the screen before him.

Another knock on the door roused him. “Sir, it’s time for your suit fitting.”

~~~

Jimin looked eagerly at the doors, waiting for the first glance of his wife face-to-face.

The audience stood as Ara strutted down the catwalk with a grace only a girl who had been bred in high society could achieve.

She took his hand, her fingers gripping his tightly. Her hand fit perfectly in his. A whiff of her floral perfume wafted through the air. Her very presence seemed familiar, though Jimin figured that could be from the hundreds of texts they had exchanged in the past eleven days.

Kim Seokjin was officiating at Ara’s request; it seemed to Jimin that he spoke slowly on purpose, taunting him with the veiled face of his bride.

Finally they reached the vows, and Ara’s grip on his hand tightened momentarily.

Jimin slipped his grandmother’s ring onto her finger, admiring the sparkle that seemed right. The three red garnets bookmarked by tiny diamonds suited her.

Ara slid the gold band on his finger, a little shock running up his arm from where she touched him.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“...You may kiss the bride,” announced Seokjin.

Jimin carefully lifted the veil over Ara’s reddish-brown hair, careful not to mess up her hairdo, and met her eyes with a smile he hoped wasn’t too eager.

Her eyes locked on his, a hint of a smile in their mahogany depths. He smiled back, placing his hand on her cheek, his thumb cupping her jaw. The steady beat of her heart pounded under his thumb as he dipped her slightly, the crowd cheering in celebration.

With a wink at her surprised glance, he swept his thumb over her lips, pressing his own to his thumb.

Seokjin gave him a minuscule nod that he caught out of the corner of his eye. No one else appeared to have caught the faux-kiss, thankfully.

Jimin really didn’t want to have to explain to his teasing brothers that the big, bad mafia boss didn’t want to scare his new bride away.

Sihyeon straightened the train of Ara’s Alexander Wang dress and handed her the bouquet of pink ranunculus. Jimin extended his arm, Ara looped hers through his, and they swept down the aisle.

Jungok caught his eye on the way by, “Don’t forget your promise,” he mouthed.

The promise, in Jimin’s copy of the contract– Jungok’s only stipulation.

Do not let Ara find out that you or I are in the mafia.

Ara was a total Daddy’s girl, only idolizing him. He didn’t want to break her heart, tell her that her appa wasn’t all she’d thought he was.

Jungok had been secretly overjoyed when she had come to him, saying she wanted to study art, not business to prepare for inheriting ShinCorp. It was much easier to hide the fact that he was the don of the Gray mafia, one of the biggest in Seoul.

Jungok could leave ShinCorp to his Head of Strategy, Kim Namjoon, who would run the Grays as well, and Ara would be none the wiser.

Jungok’s one wish was to never crush his little girl’s world of gold and pink and glitter and peace.

Yes, he had insisted she learn a martial art and have a bodyguard, but many CEOs’ families had more protection. Aeri’s accident may have truly been an accident, but after he failed to protect his wife, he vowed to make sure Ara would always be protected.

After the luxurious reception, the Parks drove to Jimin’s home and base of operations, codenamed Cypher. Jimin drove them himself- Ara had brought Jungkook with her but given him the night off, and he was hitting it off with his new colleagues and Jimin’s friends/groomsmen, Kim Taehyung, Jung Hoseok, Min Yoongi, Choi Soobin, and Choi Beomgyu.

Jimin pulled the bulletproof SUV up to the steps and sighed in relief. None of the other mafia or gangs had attempted anything, and Bangtan was now officially allied with Gray; the gangs pressuring and testing him since his father’s death should relax now.

He leaned his head against the headrest and looked over at Ara. Oh, right.

“So…it didn’t seem quite right discussing it over text, but where should I put your things? I have a suite prepared for you, or you can have the master bedroom, whichever you’d like…”

Ara smiled a little at his awkwardness, masking her own. They hadn’t exactly had the time to discuss the finer points of married life, beyond the ‘getting married’ point.

“I think the suite would be best for now, although I am looking forward to getting to know you better, and I hope we can make this relationship work.”

“I do, too.” Jimin pulled out his phone to text the housekeeper to move the rest of Ara’s things to the prepared suite . “You looked beautiful, I meant to say that earlier.”

“Thank you. Er- did you dye your hair to match the colour scheme? I wasn’t expecting that level of cooperation.”

Jimin chuckled, getting out of the SUV and stretching to relieve the lingering awkwardness. “No, that was a coincidence. I’m glad it didn’t clash with the colour scheme, though. When you asked about suits and colours all I could think of at first was, ‘Oh no, what if she wants one of those ultra-modern black-and-white weddings’ or something.”

Ara’s light laughter floated through the crisp night. “Don’t worry, I like colour. Photographer, y’know?”

“I was really impressed by how quickly you got everything prepared.” He paused, debating on broaching the subject now or later. Curiosity won, and he plowed ahead. “Can I ask why you agreed to marry me so quickly?”

Ara shrugged, bending over to pull off her sparkly pink Louboutins. “You needed a partnership with my father’s group. Appa would have a beneficial business agreement with your company. I would like to be a wife, and in the future, a mother. I’ve never had a long-term boyfriend or anything…all the chaebol heirs are too old, too young, pricks, immature, or just not my type. I confess I did a little stalking of you, and Appa approved of you. Even if this was a business marriage, he would never suggest a man who wouldn’t treat me well. And you saved me the time and stress of introducing my boyfriend to my family and waiting to see if the verdict would fall in your favour or not,” she shrugged again. 

Jimin nodded, fascinated by the peek into Ara’s brain. “I hope that, at the very least, we’ll get along as friends. Would you like to go on a date tomorrow?”

“Sure, I’m free. What time?”

~~~

Ara settled into her very comfy bed and pulled out her phone.

SA: 2:00 p.m. tomorrow

KS: Done so soon?

SA: Shut up. 2:00, be there or don’t.

KS: Got it. I’ll be there.🙄

At 1:55 p.m., Ara descended the stairs of her new house, ready for her date. Her peach tunic dress hugged her curves and fell to her knees, complemented by her chunky brown leather heels, gold jewelry, and an oversized burgundy purse.

Jimin had just pulled the car up, and his jaw loosened a little. “You look stunning!”

Ara blushed, pushing a loose curl behind her ear. “Thanks, you look pretty nice yourself.”

Jimin wore his loose white suit well, his plum shirt complementing his peachy-pink hair.

The car ride to downtown Seoul was filled with quiet chatter as the newlyweds got to know each other better.

Jimin pulled up to an art museum and got out, heading quickly to Ara’s side to open the door for her. She took his arm, and he let her tell him all about the art and curation as they toured the museum.

“Abeoji first took me to a museum when I was six, I think? I really liked it and begged Eomma to take me back. I just kept making my parents take me to museums until I’d seen them all, and then repeated it. I tried drawing and painting, but I wasn’t very good at them and didn’t want to put in the hours of practice to attempt to be good.”

They strolled along to the photography section, having gone through the traditional paintings and sketches.“Photography caught my attention when I was ten or eleven…Jungkook had taken up photography as his hobby, and he let me try sometimes. I really loved those times taking pictures and decided that’s what I wanted to do as a job, not run ShinCorp. Appa was surprisingly accepting of my decision, but he’s always spoiled me a bit,” Ara laughed.

“Jungkook, as in, your bodyguard?” Jimin asked curiously. “He couldn’t have been much use when you were ten…he’s only a bit older than you, right?”

“Oh, Kook wasn’t my bodyguard till he was eighteen. We grew up as childhood friends since my eomma’s accident. He’s from Busan, but he was kidnapped and trafficked around the time of my mom’s accident. The police rescued him and some other children when they broke up the ring of gangsters that had been trafficking kids,” explained Ara, pausing in front of a photo of a field of wildflowers.

“Jungkook was an orphan, so one of the policemen who’d rescued them fostered him. He was Appa’s friend, and they thought it would be good for both of us to have a companion.”

Ara turned to see what Jimin thought of this revelation. He was frowning at the floor, one hand in his pocket. Running his other hand through his hair, he exhaled. “That must have been tough.”

Ara nodded. “He doesn’t speak about it much–sensitive, you know? Oh, and you don’t need to worry about…anything between us,” she added hesitantly. “We did have a crush on each other in high school, but we realized we’re better off as friends. There’s no competition.”

He raised his head to smirk at her, pushing his hair back one final time. “So, there’s a chance of winning your heart?”

She smiled back, lifting her lashes flirtatiously. “I’d say there’s a good chance.”

“Shall we go for dinner, then?”

“Sure, I could eat. Could we try this new French restaurant nearby?”

“Whatever you want, milady. What’s its name?”

“L’Domino. Main floor of the Star Lost hotel,” Ara pointed down the street to a tall building several blocks away, visible from the museum parking lot.

“Ah…I’ve heard of that place. Let’s go, then!”

The maitre’d heard their names and immediately showed them to a table. Dim lighting, but not so dim you couldn’t see what you were eating, opulent fabrics and the quiet instrumental soundtrack gave the dining room an atmosphere oozing exclusivity. Jimin pulled out Ara’s chair for her, then sat opposite her.

A black-suited waiter approached, his chubby cheeks lifted in a smile. “Good evening! My name is Jisung; I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with a beverage?”

At D9, Vixen’s HQ, Chan picked up the phone, halting its first ring. “Chan.”

“Christmas, it’s me. Have Park Jimin’s hacker find Jeon Jungkook’s file of his kidnapping. Shin Ara told him about it; he’ll be suspicious.”

“Got it. Did Seungmin make the drop?”

“The goods are in position. I’ll contact you later for news on our plans, I just wanted to give you a head start on the file. Vixen over and out.”

“Thank you for the lovely date, Princess. I enjoyed getting to know you. Perhaps we could make this a regular thing?”

Jimin opened the front door, and Ara stepped into the low-lit foyer. “Thank you. I had a lot of fun, and ditto,” she returned. “Making this regular sounds lovely.”

Jimin inhaled and pushed further. “Would you like to have breakfast together in the mornings if I’m not at the office early?”

“I’d love to. What time do you normally eat?”

“Quarter to eight. Does that work for you?”

“Sounds perfect. See you tomorrow, then?”

“See you then. Sleep well,” he called after her, already halfway up the stairs.

“You as well. Goodnight, Jimin.” Ara entered her suite, all done in pastels with gold accents. It was either a strange coincidence or someone had been talking (she bet it was her appa), but it was very similar to her room at home.

She headed to the ensuite to begin her nighttime routine, replaying the whole date with Jimin.

She had expected maybe dinner or an outing, but not the entire afternoon and evening. It was lovely, but she wondered if Jimin would face any backlash over spending so much time off work. It was crucial he maintained a flawless profile in the first months of being appointed CEO, Ara was enough of a businessman’s daughter  to know that. Their marriage was, in part, to help stabilize his takeover, and she didn’t want to be a hindrance.

He was a perfect gentleman and quite attentive. She’d miss his company, but she’d make sure their next date was a little shorter. By their first anniversary, he should be able to spend more time with her again.

It’s not like she was expecting love and him to wait on her hand and foot, even if she did hope they’d grow to genuinely care about each other. Time flew by, anyway– she’d survive a few months without his constant presence. Resolved to broach the subject at breakfast the next morning, she crawled into her comfy bed and replayed his every action again.

He was too perfect. She’d find his flaw sooner or later.

Jimin tapped his fingers rhythmically on his desk and sighed. Finally, he pushed a button and asked for Jungkook to be fetched.

Minutes later, Ara’s bodyguard stood at attention in front of him.

“You’ve known Ara since you were eleven?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You were adopted by Jeon Jeonghwa, an officer in Seoul’s police department, Organized Crime division?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ara told me you were kidnapped from Busan and brought here by traffickers, till you were rescued by your adoptive father.”

Jungkook nodded.

“You became her bodyguard at eighteen…you’ve trained in martial arts for twelve years?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Shin insisted Ara and I take self-defense lessons, and I wanted more.”

“You know who Shin Jungok is? Who I am?” Jimin leaned back in his chair, studying Jungkook.

“Yes, sir. Head of the Gray Gang and the Bangtan Family.”

“Does Ara suspect who we are?” Jimin narrowed his eyes. The million-dollar question…or maybe, billion-dollar, considering the revenue estimated to be brought in by this alliance.

“No, sir. Mr. Shin wants her to know nothing about your other business. He’s made sure she knows nothing.”

“Tell me if she ever mentions anything about it to you, please. Thank you for your time.”

“Yes, sir. Also…there was never really anything between us. We’re like siblings, sir.”

Jungkook left, and Jimin resumed his finger tapping, staring at the spot where the man had stood.

Time went by, and the newlyweds fell into a routine. They would have breakfast together four times a week when Jimin wasn’t ‘at the office early’. When he came home, they would have dinner, either trying out a new restaurant or one of Ara’s home-cooked meals. 

Cooking was her hobby, and she enjoyed experimenting with various cuisines and fusions.

Mrs. Lee, the housekeeper, let her have free reign of the kitchen, a feat not easily achieved.

The long-date problem was solved by the compromise of several shorter dates. Once a week, Jimin would take Ara on a coffee or lunch date, the short distance between Ara’s gallery and Park Group’s buildings coming in handy so they could stretch out their precious minutes together. 

Ara had almost finished setting up her gallery and excitedly shared her plans for the opening and all the organizing she had to do. Jimin was bemused by her enjoyment of organizing things and creating organizational systems, imagining if she knew about his secondary business and how she’d whip everyone into shape. He had no doubt that she would be a force to be reckoned with if someone got into her path. Grinning at the mental image of Ara siccing Jungkook and maybe his own men on someone standing in her way, he realized he was smiling like a loon and quickly smoothed out his expression.

Just in time.

His secretary knocked on the door and poked his head in. “Sir, the dress was delivered. However, Mrs Shin has not opened it yet.”

With a fond smile, he rolled his eyes. She was probably busy focusing on the networking for the ball tonight.

For all her love of order, she could be so scatterbrained and distracted sometimes. Her suite was a disaster when she was getting ready to go out, and she was always leaving something behind somewhere. Maybe it should have annoyed him, but it only endeared her to him more. She wasn’t completely perfect, something that reassured him to no end. Perfect people were too good to be true, something that made him suspicious of Ara and Jungkook in the beginning.

At first, he’d only spent so much time with Ara because he wanted to know what she was hiding behind that girly-girl, society and gilded mask, but as they became closer, he realized she truly was that good-hearted; not shallow at all, but she didn’t shy away from being the cliche chaebol princess.

Her openness drew him to her like a moth to a flame. He had so many secrets. What was it like to just be who you are, unapologetically? Not worry about what people thought of you?

Jungkook was similar to Ara, probably because they’d been practically attached by the hip for over a decade. He’d quickly proven himself to Jimin’s closest circle, and as Mrs Shin’s guy, he was quickly welcomed to the inner ranks. He gave Jimin good advice about how to deal with Ara, which Jimin truly appreciated, and he was always down to join Jimin in a workout or spar.

Even Hoseok, Jimin’s Head of Security, approved of Jungkook, a difficult achievement.

By the second month of the contract marriage, Ara and Jungkook were permanent fixtures in the Bangtan Family’s life, and it seemed unthinkable that anything should happen to them. They were Parks now, and it seemed like they always had been.

Jimin knocked on Ara’s door, fiddling with his garnet cufflinks while he waited. The thick carpeting muffled her footsteps, and the door swung open unexpectedly.

His jaw dropped.

The form-fitting red dress had a sparkling corset bodice, laced up tightly to emphasize his wife’s curves, and a hint of thigh winked at him from the slit in the gauzy skirt.

Diamonds glinted from her ears, between fluffy curls he wanted to wrap around his fingers.

Shin Ara looked every inch the mafia queen she was, even if she didn’t know it. 

Jimin’s gaze slowly slid down to her strappy gold heels, then back up, making Ara blush.

“You look wonderful,” he said, extending his hand.

“Thank you.”

~~~

Jimin proudly escorted his wife into the high society, clandestine mafia ball.

Jungok spotted them arriving and came over to greet them.

Every two weeks, the entire group of Gray and Bangtan’s inner circles came together for dinner. Jungok had been at their mansion two days ago, yet he acted as if it had been two months.

“Hello, my beautiful daughter; Jimin. You look so much like your mother,” Jungok stared wistfully at Ara. “Speaking of, when will I get my own grandchildren?”

Blushing furiously, Ara thwacked her father’s arm. “Appa!”

“What? I’m an old man, I want to see my grandchildren before I die.”

Ara scoffed. “You’re so dramatic, Appa; you’re not that old. Anyways, how’s your new secretary doing? Has he learned anything yet?” she grinned, recalling her father’s exasperated rant on the secretary’s new structuring and organization tactics earlier that week.

“Yes, Seungmin just needed some time to learn the ropes; he’s quite bright. When will you have your opening night?” Jungok switched the topic.

“Next month, the twelfth. I’m so excited!”

Jimin chimed in with a chuckle, “It’s all she’s been focused on for a while now.”

Ara glared playfully at him and swept off for some punch. 

Rejoining the men, she saw her father grip Jimin’s wrist tightly and speak lowly into his ear.

“Appa? Gwaenchana?”

“Just a little thirsty,” Jungok said thickly. Ara quickly passed him her punch and watched in horror as it spilled all over the front of her dress, the cup crashing to the floor moments before Jungok.

“Appa!” Ara stared at the sweat gathering on his forehead, at the light, fast breaths he was taking as he weakly tugged at his tie to loosen it. 

"Call an ambulance!" She demanded of no one in particular, crouching beside him in worry.

Jimin dialed the emergency line quickly and waited for the ambulance to come. Jungkook rushed over, checking Jungok’s pulse and loosening his collar and cuffs, rolling him onto his side.

The EMTs arrived and transported Jungok to the hospital, sirens blaring as they sped through the streets.

Ara nervously twisted her fingers in her lap, her gaze fixed on the flashing lights directly ahead of them as Jimin followed the vehicle carrying her father.

Finger twisting was joined by impatient pacing in front of the row of chairs as she awaited any news.

After what seemed like hours of pacing under the glaring white lights, the doctor who’d taken her father approached.

“Mr. Shin is stable but unconscious right now. He had a heart attack. Do you know if he had any of these symptoms lately?” the doctor rattled off a list of concerning things Ara wished she knew about.

She shook her head helplessly. “I-I don’t know. I just got married recently and moved out- I’ve only seen him briefly…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jimin wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, returning from making calls to his secretary, letting her know that he wouldn’t be in the next day. “You didn’t and couldn’t know– that’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault; it’s just a fact. Your dad is stable now. It’ll be okay, yeah?” His hand rubbed soothing strokes up and down her arm. “Ara, you’re cold.” Shrugging his coat off,  he wrapped it around her like a hug.

“We’d like to run some tests on Mr. Shin, just to make sure he’s okay besides this issue,” said the doctor, eyeing her sympathetically. “Could you come to my office to sign some papers?”

Once everything was finally sorted out and she had seen her father, reassured that he was going to be okay and there was nothing for her to do at present, Jimin took her home and sent her straight to bed.

Tucking her in, he smoothed the comforter over her shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “He’ll be okay, Princess.”

“Thank you for everything, Jimin.” She blinked up at his shadowed profile.

“Of course. Get some sleep.” His finger brushed her cheek, then she heard his light footsteps head toward the door and the quiet snick of the door closing.

Closing her eyes, she did her best to sleep. Its comforting embrace welcomed her swiftly.

[wintersundestiel]

"You said it was a matter of days, and now you say it could be months?" Castiel asked, barely keeping his Alpha from moving forward and biting Shurley's throat. Rationally, he knew that killing this little Jew would accomplish nothing. It wouldn't ensure that he would get his Omega back. He would also have to find a new trustworthy lawyer and somehow explain why such a publicly known person associated with him had disappeared somewhere overnight. No, killing Shurley wouldn't help, but breaking a few fingers or pulling a few teeth... His Alpha grunted in agreement. Pain could motivate people very well.

"Yes, that's what I said, Alpha, but that was before the situation got so dramatically complicated," the lawyer replied. "You must understand that Omega Winchester is now under an order of protection because he is considered a minor victim of a crime. Until the investigation is officially referred to a court, adjourned, or otherwise concluded, it is unlikely that a judge will agree to Alpha's custody. Especially if you request it," he pointed out in a way Castiel didn't like. Especially the tone.

"Until a few days ago, I was an ideal candidate."

"That was before you put him up in your apartment, gave him access to your accounts, and appeared with him in public. Under the conditions, it's only a matter of time before you become an official suspect. According to my sources, you are already a person of interest..."

[namjinreads]

READ ON AO3

[kingofbodyrolls]

Holy fucking hell— this was hot and so good 😭🥵

Haegeum - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Gangstar!Yoongi X Bar-owner!Reader

Theme: SMUT, PWP (MDNI)

Summary: Banning Yoongi from your bar has its own consequences.

Word count: 1869

Warning: Strong Language, sexual theme, dub-con, sex on the bar island, creampie, mentions of gun, a little bit of violence, Yoongi is hot OMG!!

**************

“How dare you?” you seethe through your teeth, staring at the man that seemingly has no emotion at all. Your eyes scan the pieces of shattered glass all over the floor of your bar. You wanna cry. Your bar means the world to you. After pressing yourself under the unforgiving wheels of the corporate sector, you finally saved enough money to open your own bar. It has been one of your biggest dreams since forever. All of it was going good, so fucking good until one day Min Yoongi, the infamous delinquent of the city stepped inside. 

Nothing has been quiet and peaceful since then. Using your bar for his illegal deals has become one of the common things. You have warned him again and again but you received nothing but a smirk in return. 

However, everything has a limit so does your patience with this terribly handsome delinquent. The dam of your cool demanour broke yesterday when he pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man he was supposed to be making the deal with. You threw both of them out of your bar just at once. Thanks to your bulky security guards, the deed has not been tough. But you knew that you were jumping in a pool of fire. You knew it the moment Yoongi turned his head to stare and smirk at you before being pushed out of the entrance. 

And just as you thought, he came back today. He came back with his gang of thugs and jerks and destroyed the large mirror that you installed behind your bar counter, it was your favourite decoration. Seems like he knew it. 

You miss the way Yoongi’s eyes rake over your body as you continue to stare at the broken glass all over the floor. 

“Are you regretting, kitten?” Yoongi cooes in a low voice, taking your attention. You look at him and visibly cringe at the nickname. 

“This is what you get for banning me from my favourite bar in the town.” He says again. 

“This is my bar, you nutjob! I get to decide who can step in here and who can’t!” you scream at his face. Your fury didn’t let you see the way you are stepping towrads his body. 

“And this is my area, Kitten. I get to decide who can start their business here and who can’t.” Yoongi replies calmly, as if he didn’t trespass your property and scared your guests away less than seven minutes ago. 

“You don’t own the property, Yoongi” you reply, boring your fiery eyes into his cold ones. 

“You bet I do, kitten. And do you know what else I own?” he pauses, taking a step towards you, “you”. 

You stand still. You don’t know if you should be scared or thrilled hearing such a handsome delinquent calling you his. But what you do know is that even if you want to oppose it, it will all go in vain. He is Min Yoongi after all and what Yoongi wants, Yoongi gets.

“Have you ever asked yourself how you got to open this bar without facing any trouble?” Yoongi asks, taking another step towards you and this time you take a step back. You indeed have asked yourself. Since your capital was limited you didn’t get to open your bar in a fairly decent area. You decided to settle for a little shadier place instead, promising yourself that you will shift it to somewhere better once you earn enough profit. However, you heard stories about how other pub or club owners in this area had to pass money under the table for opening their businesses. When you faced nothing like this, you indeed asked yourself several questions starting from why and how. You somehow knew it would come with a price. But you didn’t imagine the price to be Min Yoongi himself. 

“Because I let you do so.” Yoongi growls, breaking your reverie and taking another step towards you. 

“Becuase I wanted you from the day my eyes landed on this pretty face of yours, this inviting body of yours.” his eyes travel down your face to your neck then your chest. The heat of his gaze and his body makes you feel lightheaded. You almost jump when your body comes in contact with the bar top. Yoongi’s body towers over yours and he locks you between those vieny arms of his. You should be angry and furious but the sudden dampness of your panty says something completely different. 

“Why do you want me?” your voice is softer than before and you fail to recognize yourself when you say those words. It is as if you want to hear him saying something very specific, you don’t know why. 

“I like strong, confident and self-dependent women. I like to see them fly until they find that one place they can’t reach.” he smirks that lethal smirk again, “and in your case, I am that place.”

You are about to protest but then your words get cut as you feel something hard against your stomach. Unfortunately, that object isn’t his bulge but the cold metal of his gun. 

Your breath gets stuck on your throat as you feel terror creeping up your spine. But you don’t want to show it, not today. 

“Go ahead, kill me if you want. I still am not bending in front of you.” you say and Yoongi chuckles. 

“You got some courage, don’t you? But kitten, you gotta bend in front of me if you wanna save your precious bar. If you don’t, next time it will be those expensive bottle of liqours to be shattered here on the floor.” He presses the gun on your stomach even more. 

“No!” you mutter. 

“Then do as I say. I promise it won’t be painful. Rather you will like it all.” Yoongi’s gaze falls down on your lips and your cunt leaks with anticipation. 

“What do you want me to do?” you say, letting your own eyes fall on his lips.

“Strip” the demand in Yoongi’s voice sends you working in auto-pilot and you find yourself shredding each piece of garment one by one. 

Yoongi’s eyes darkened the moment you are left only with your emerald lace lingerie. You see him licking his lips as his body still towers you greedily. 

“Stop” Yoongi commands when you reach for the hook of your bra. He places his gun in the back pocket of his jeans and places one of his giant palms on your bare thigh. 

“Better than my imagination” he says, squeezing your thigh harshly. Within a moment you find yourself being lifted up and sat on the bar top. 

“You are already wet? Is this how much you hate me, kitten?” Yoongi says, regarding the wet spot that is visible through the cloth of your lacy underware. You are embarrassed but you’re aroused much more than that.  

Yoongi takes out his gun again. He holds you by your waist and he presses the mouth of his gun on your clothed clit. You hiss at the contact. Yoongi’s mouth finds the expanse of your collarbone as he bites down on your skin, “you like it, kitten. You are just as nasty as I thought.”

Moaning out a little, you try to roll your hips for some friction, you are badly in need of that. 

“So impatient. Just like a little slut. You are lucky, I have been waiting for a long time to get you like this, which means I am in no mood to tease.” Yoongi mutters in your throat before he pulls his face away from yours and hooks his fingers on the hem of your underware. He snatches that away within a blink. And now you are sitting naked on the bartop with a leaking core waiting to be ruined by Yoongi. 

“Fuck” he curses, as he places two of his fingers on your slit gathering some of your juices. Your pussy starts throbbing at the contact. And without your own knowledge you moan out his name. 

“Yes, kitten, yes. Moan my name. Let me hear it.” Yoongi says with a dazed expression. He places the gun on the top of the bar just beside you and starts removing his pants. You know he is just as impatient if not more, when he pulls his boxers away along with his jeans. His delicious looking dick frees from confinement to greet you in its full glory. 

Your mouth waters at the sight. As much as your pride hurts right now, you can’t really deny the fact that you would love to suck him dry. As if reading your mind, Yoongi says, “I would love to give you a taste but, I need to be inside you now.” 

He aligns his dick on your entrance and presses on your clit with the tip of his cock once. You hiss at the contact, yet again. 

“Fuck Yoongi!” you moan. 

“Yeah kitten. I am gonna fuck you till you can barely walk.” he says, slowly entering you. He pulls out his length once he is midway and then slams into you without any warning. You grasp for a handful of his thick hair. He barely gives you any time to adjust as he starts moving with a good pace already. You don’t even register when his hands reach your back and unhook your bra. You finally get what is happening when he pulls the garment away from your body and throws that away. 

Yoongi latches his mouth to one of your perked nipples as one of his hands massage the other tit. He sucks hard and messily, leaving a trail of his drool dropping down the swell of our tits, reaching your naval down to your mound. He bites your nipple and that gets you seeing stars. 

“Yoongi” you whine. 

Yoongi takes up a much faster pace, this time he shifts his mouth to your other tit and his hand reaches down to draw circles on your clit. The pleasure that you feel is unexplainable. You feel like you could faint from this. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck” a string of curses start flying out of your mouth when his cock hit your g-spot twice in a row. As a result your walls start squeezing his shaft and his cock starts twiching. 

“Cum on my cock, kitten” as if you obey his command, you cum on his dick. Yoongi follows right behind as he spills his seed in you. He bites on your nipple again and the pain overstimulates you. 

Yoongi pulls out his softened dick from your cunt and watches as his semen flows out. He chuckles at the sight. Your breath is heavy and ragged and seeing Yoongi chuckling at your fucked out form makes you angry. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask furiously. 

“Not funny but definitely amusing how you ended up bending before me.” He smirks again. Your jaw gets tight at his cockiness. 

“It’s a one time thing” you say as you start climbing down from the bar top. 

“Oh, kitten, you thought so. Cause now, you belong to me.” Yoongi says, grabbing his gun and pointing that to your temple. 

**************

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie

[thelostpretzel]

he will be fine he's just overreacting

[the-amazing-digital-mafia]

Rise and shine ragapom nation

[wonderlandnet]

-> NEW ADDITION: "Bookshops and Bourbon" by Jae

♡ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐧 || 𝐉.𝐘𝐇 ♡

【Synopsis】 : a new book shop had opened on the block, and a certain marfia leader was interested in the sweet little owner.

『Word count』 : 9.01k

-> Genre: Mafia. Smut. Romance.

Pairing: Perv!MobBoss!Yunho! X Librarian!Reader

[Warnings] : Pervy Yunho. Like I mean this man is so horny for the reader it's crazy. Really shameless flirting and a lot of flustered most likely cringe moments but it's fine… I promise. Mention of criminal activity. Yunho is a classy criminal, what can I say. Swearing. Tension. Inappropriate thoughts. Strangers to Lovers?? Domestic play. These two already act like an old married couple, confirmed. Making out, oral(f). Fingering. Edging. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex.

Author note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DARLING YAYA!! I hope you enjoy this little treat. This is plot heavy. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I had such bad word vomit. May or may not end up writing another part, we’ll see ahh. Ah, i love you ♡ @skteezcursed ♡

Also this is not beta read so please be mindful of any mistakes ♡

Networks: @atzhouse @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet

Masterlist | Navigation

“I’m just saying why can’t you get one of the field boys to do it. You got a meeting in thirty, and I don’t see how explaining to them you were ‘out for an errand’ will solve your tardiness.” The driver scoffed yet again as he took the next right towards the new shop that had just opened a few weeks ago in town. A little book shop. There hadn’t been a proper book shop in this part of the city in years, and Yunho was immediately interested in it.

“Like I said, I want to see this place for myself. I don’t need one of those knuckleheads barging in like they own the place. And none of those bozos will ever say a word. I could be a day late, and they’ll all pretend they were just early.” Yunho rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his whiskey. He felt tired just thinking about that meeting. The one he’s been putting off for months. “Stop here.”

San sighed in defeat before taking a spot on the busy road. No one seemed to bat an eye as a black Chevy Suburban rolled up, but then again, most people on this side of town knew exactly who the car belonged to. “Meet me back here in twenty. Go grab us a coffee or something.”

“Wait but, Sir. You can't just—” Yunho slammed the door to the car. “Leave…”

-

The little bell on the top of the door rang cutely as Yunho entered the quiet establishment. There was barely anyone in here, if not no one at all. Perfect. He thought, given he wanted to be able to meet you in peace. And there you were, casually placing books in their rightful places on the shelves. You are wearing a cute sundress with an apron over it. There’s a little sun pattern all over the fabric, making it match with the pastel yellow ribbon in your hair. You were the most beautiful thing Yunho had ever laid eyes on. And the first time he noticed you were in the cafe, a few shops down. You bought a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin. He still remembers the smile on your face when you took that first sip, getting a little foam moustache as a result.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss your sweet face then and there. So naturally, he looked you up. Finding out you had opened up this vintage-urban store. You had moved from outta town, but no one knew where, and your family and history was a mystery. Even to him and his beast detectives. You were no one. And that made you even more interesting. “Come on..just..g-go.”

You were on your tip toes trying to reach the top shelf to put a book back but you being forgetful, left the stool in the back closet and you had decided it was too much of an effort to go back and get it now. You jumping was what you resorted to. You looked like a rabbit in Yunho’s eyes. A sweet little rabbit that’s breast bounced perfectly with every hop. The scrunch in your nose and little tongue poking made him wonder what your face would look like if when you were fucked just right.

His feet moved swiftly until he was flush behind up. You felt his broad chest before you heard him as he softly grabbed the book from your delicate fingers and placed it where it needed to be on the shelf. But what ultimately caught your attention was his smooth voice. “Looked like you needed some help, doll.”

Oh right then and there you felt your life was about to change very dramatically and oh, how it did excite you. “T-thanks.”

“Anytime.” His deep voice spilled in your ears like butter, and his cologne danced around you making the outside world cease to exist. He was walking sex on legs, something out of a dark romance novel and you knew exactly who he was. “So, have you got any book suggestions?”

Your smile grew when he asked the question but Yunho was cringing inside. That was really the best he could do. He’s been watching you for weeks and that was all he could mutter up. You on the other hand, chirped, plodding off deeper into the store. Yunho followed as he watched you scanning the shelves, your fingers tracing the spines of multiple books as you passed them, your mouth quivering out the titles of each one. “Here we go!” You grabbed a black book off the shelf. It had a red misty design all around it with bold white lettering in the centre. It looks magical, like you. “This is one of my favourites. But be warned, it’s a lot of info dumping at the start. But the ending is worth it.”

“Thanks doll. What is it about?” Yunho’s smile makes your heart shake, your fingers grazing his as you hand him the book. Your throat became dry, unable to think of the right words to describe the novel…”Oh it's fantasy…”

You snapped out of your brain as you see the man scanning the blurb on the back, his smile growing into a sly smirk as he read some of the words, Romantic, erudite and suspenseful. You put your jittering hands in the pockets of your apron as you tried your best not to blush. “Y-yeah.. yes. I. It's really good. It’s got witches and vampires, all sorts of creatures.”

Your little ramble caused Yunho to smile ear to ear. The way your face slowly lit up the more you spoke about it, the dramatic movements of your hands as you used them to further express your emotion. He had come to the conclusion you were the cutest thing on the planet. And he would do anything to protect that. “Well I’ll definitely give it a read, sunshine.”

Your like deepened the shade of pink upon hearing the cute nickname that slipped from the tall man. You felt like your legs were slowly turning to jelly at the thought not only was he hot as all fuck, but he was in fact a reader, like you. “T-Tell me what you think when you finish it.”

“I shall.” His remark was quick, the smirk making your heart race. When was he this close to you? Was he always this close to the point you can smell his cologne mixing with the whiskey on his breath. You gulped, watching his eyes scan from your eyes to your lips, before letting his own by swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. “I needed to speak with you about something as well.”

His deep authorial voice rattled in your mind, suddenly shaking you from your fantasy, making you remind yourself who exactly was standing in front of you. You nodded with a small ‘of course’ before walking towards the front counter. Yunho followed you as he spoke, “I’m assuming you know who I am…” his throat felt dry at his own words.

“Everybody knows who you are, Mr Jeong.” Your words seemed flattened, almost worried. In truth you were scared, but the murmurs that circled when you first entered the city was not something you took lightly. The cruelness people spoke off. The ruthless man known as the Viper. Mr Jeong Yunho. Too young to be a mafia lord, yet here he stood, powerful, feared and wealthy. “I suppose you were here originally for business then...”

Yunho watched as you took out the logs of the shop, no longer making eye contact with him. Of course you knew who he was, why was he so stupid in thinking he could pretend for one single moment to be someone else. To be a normal guy that could sway the sweet sunflower that owns the book shop. A fantasy, he thought, one that won't come true. “I protect these shops on this street. And I was wondering if you would be interested in getting into the same agreement.” he bit his tongue, trying his best to be professional.

“And what do I have to do to get this sort of treatment…” Your hands were shaking more than you’d like them too, not wishing to look into his cold eyes. But his eyes weren't cold, in fact they were swimming in conflict. He didn’t need anything from you, just like the other shops. No, he protected people that needed it and in return he asked for their favour. Nothing more nothing less. But he didn’t want a favour from you. No he just wanted…

“A smile.” Yunho said sternly.

“W-what?” You finally looked up at him to see a soft smirk on his shaded pink features and then he replied again..

“I want you to smile.”

-

You couldn’t help but yearn for Yunho every time you opened your shop. Waiting for him to walk in through those doors like he did almost two weeks ago now. you still remember the butterflies in your tummy as he said his goodbye…

“Like that.” Your smile grew bigger as he stepped closer to the counter. “It suits you so much.” He picked up your hand gently before placing the softest kiss on your knuckles. You swore your heart stopped at that moment. “I’ll be seeing you, sunshine.”

And with that he left, leaving your blood rushing to your ears and a hefty tip on your counter.

“Hey, so do I sort the biographies by title or by author.” The young worker so reluctantly hired comes rushing in from the store room, his shirt on the wrong way and his laces barely tied… his mother had practically begged you to give him work since he was almost twenty-three and still without job experience. And now you can see why no one wanted to hire the poor thing. He wasn’t the brightest.

“Uh yeah. By author and make sure they are put in the end row by the nonfiction section, please.” You pinched the bridge of your nose as you watched him stumble away to the back of the shop, his laces making him side step.

And then you heard a crash. Followed by a quick, “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” You felt like you needed to ask.

The young boy rounded the shelf, looking back at you with a face as bright of a pink as the poor flowers he was holding. He had broken another vase... perfect.

“Just put it in the back.” You scratched your chin sighing as he repeated over and over ‘I’m sorry’ while cleaning up the what you’d count as the fourth vase filled with flowers. You shook your head, looking back at the receipt logbook again, going over all the money you’d have made since opening. It was surprising, to say the least, the amount of people that have purchased or borrowed books in such little time made you giddy. You felt a sense of accomplishment at the idea people were reading. The sound of the doorbell chimed, shifting your attention to a possible new customer. “Hello, how can I help…”

“Hey Sunshine.” Yunho’s face beamed with happiness upon seeing you. His casual wear catches you off guard. He almost looked normal and not some big bad mob boss who could get away with your murder. “I’ve read your book.”

“Y-yunho.” You perked, closing the logs before quickly rounding the front desk until you were almost inches from him. Close enough to smell his gorgeous cologne. “That didn’t take you long…”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, reminding himself he had spent hours reading the book when he should have been working. But who was going to yell at him for it anyway? No, he needed to finish the book quickly so he could have something to talk about. “No, I fell in love with it on page one. And besides, the quicker I read it. The quicker I could come back here and ask you for another.”

Your face blushed as he took a step closer. You gulp at the proximity, practically feeling his body heat. His on hand leaning on the counter behind you, closing the distance. "D-do, you have any in mind..."

Yunho watched your eyes flutter close, taking in his aura. He couldn't help but smirk at how much he affected you. Infecting your perfect little innocent act, because from what he read in that novel, he knew you were the sunshine he depicted you as, no, there was a dark streak inside you, and he wanted desperately to draw it out. "I was curious if you got something more spicy. Hmm."

"S-spicy!?" You gasp, opening your eyes to gaze into Yunho deep ones, his pupils blown out, almost consuming all the chocolate in his eyes. His smile only grew, placing his other hand on the other side of your body, now trapping you between his large body and the counter.

"Oh, I know you've got ideas, baby. That book wasn't as innocent as you remember, hm." The tilt in his head made you dizzy. His face inches from yours. If you wanted, you would only need to move an inch to close the gap. To finally feel those lips you'd been dreaming about for the past couple of weeks.

"I could give you some suggestions..." You whispered your breath, mixing with his. Yunho bit his bottom lip, inching closer and closer until his lips graze yours and just enough to—

"I think I lost the log book again in the...." The young boy, frozen, almost dropping some of the books that he held tightly in his hand. Yunho sighs, reluctantly pulling away slowly. You looked down at your feet, feeling like your heart was going to jump right out of your chest. "S-sorry."

"It's okay, George. Just.. Did you leave it on the desk in the back again?" You answered the poor boys' question, making his face light up with cringe. He muttered to himself before scurrying off towards the back room. You look back at the man still caging you against the counter, but his gaze was elsewhere. On the young boy, in fact. Yunho could explain it, but he knows that kid. He's seen him somewhere. His face is so familiar yet lost. "Are you okay?"

Your little murmur caught the mob boss's attention, turning his attention to you once again. He cleared his throat before standing up straight, almost making himself bigger than normal. His gaze still flickered to where the back room was. His gut told him something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. "Yeah, don't worry, sunshine." He finally looked back at you, gifting you one of his award winning smiles, "I'm good."

"Well. I should be getting back to work." You felt a slight twinge of embarrassment circle in your tummy. Getting caught in the arms of a man like Yunho but being caught almost kissing him. That was a scandal and a half. Argh, you can practically hear all the old bettys in the street gossiping already. You go to turn away from him, but his hand grips your upper arm, swinging you into his chest. His free hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Let me take you out." He smirked.

"A date?" You questioned.

"Yes. I like you, sunshine. If that wasn't obvious enough." He could see your ears start to turn pink as you tried to look everywhere else. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears, feeling an overwhelming sense of every emotion under the sun. He leaned closer until his lips grazed your ear, whispering, "Think about it. I'll come back Friday afternoon before you close, and you can tell me your answer."

He lightly kissed your cheek before letting you go, walking out another thought. You just stood there, shocked, thrilled and absolutely terrified.

"You can't go."

"What?" You knitted your brow as you turned to George standing in one of the aisles. He jumped, changing his expression from a plan and cold expression to one of bewilderment.

"Uh, what I mean is you shouldn't. He's not a good man." You can see his grip on the books tighten as he grits his teeth. Your expression stayed the same as you turned your back to him, opening the logbook to where you were before.

"I know who he is." Your words were cold, blunt, almost shocking the young man. He was taken aback, to say the least, but then again, he expected your response. In fact, he hoped for it.

-

Through the following days, you found yourself staring at the clock, waiting, begging for the day to end. You wished desperately for it to be Friday every time you woke up. It was finally Thursday when your craving died a little. An old lady had come in to return a few books, and she had said a fine looking man had asked her to give you a piece of paper. A letter. To say your heart nearly jumped through your throat would have been an understatement. "Hey, George. I need to do some paperwork, watch the store."

"You've never let me work the regis—." You didn't even let the poor boy finish his statement as you sped off towards the back room. Your shaky fingers locked the door as quickly as possible before you practically jumped into the swivel chair. ‘Open it’ you told yourself ‘it has to be from Yunho’. Your smile only grew bigger at the voice singing in your head. You open the paper and see it's written in the most beautiful hand writing you've ever seen. It read;

To my sunshine,

Even though our interactions have been brief, I have to confess that crossing paths in your bookshop was not the first time I've noticed your beautiful presence. I first saw you in the cafe, three shops down. The way you were lost in your book while sipping on your hot chocolate made me want to dive into your mind and see its wonders. Curious what could be lying within… You’ve been on my mind ever since. I have found I am unable to sleep at night without the thought of you. Call me old-fashioned with this letter, but I needed to get this off my chest without blabbering like a fool in front of you. I can't wait for our date tomorrow that I know you’ll say yes to. But until then. A gift…

You look at the bottom of the page and note there is a phone number. If the confession of love wasn't enough, him giving you his number was certainly going to kill you. You had already planned to say yes to his date but now an idea sparked in your mind. In truth, you have found feelings towards Yunho, like you had been made for one another. No amount of time, whether little or long it was, you know your feeling would stay the same. So you wanted to take the reins for once, even if deep down you knew you wouldn't be able to hold them for long.

Sunshine// I got your letter. I want you here out the front by 6 pm, wear something casual.

You left no room for argument as you shut your phone off and held your head high. George’s expression of unpleasantness couldnt… wouldnt, stop you from the growing butterflies in your gut. You were finally going to be happy, and Yunho was the one going to give it to you.

-

You swore it wasn’t this cold yesterday afternoon, the keys almost sticking to your ice cold fingers. You checked the locks to the doors one final time before letting out a sigh of relief and nerves, ready to call it a night. “Well hello, Sunshine.”

You turned with a smile, seeing the man of the hour. He was wearing a less-fancy dress suit. No tie, or cuff links. You couldn't help but giggle. “I said casual wear Yun…”

“What do you mean love? This is casual.” He chuckled, taking two large steps to you, closing the gap. His hand snuck around your waist, squeezing the flesh on your hips. “Where are we off to tonight?”

“A surprise. So you’ll just have to trust me.” You giggle, your palm resting on his chest. You could feel his heart racing a million miles, yet he looked so composed. But then again in his field of ‘work’ he needed to show almost no signs of emotion.

“I’d trust you with my life.” Yunho had never used those words so lightly, but it was the truth. He couldn't explain it but he could easily lay his life down for you. You could crush it if you wished and he wouldn't say a thing. You blushed at his confession, reaching on your tiptoes you kiss the rugged man's cheek, before pulling away towards the street.

“I loved your letter by the way.” And with that you turned to start walking, letting Yunho trail after you like a love sick puppy.

“Just this way…” Yunho followed you curiously as you weaved through the streets. There were no restaurants or diners around in this area he knew of and given he owned half the city he should be aware of almost everything. So where on earth were you taking him? You turned your head over your shoulders spotting the confusion on his face, you couldn't help but giggle at his wide boba-like eyes. You outstretched your hand, waiting for him to take it. Yunho swore he felt his heart stop when he locked his fingers with yours. Yunho has never put this much trust in a person before and yet he has found himself being led by you through the front door of an apartment complex and up three flights of stairs before coming to a stop at a door that read 117. “I..”

All the words you had prepared to say had suddenly flown out the window as you slotted the key into the lock. Yunho’s smirk grew as he watched your brain scramble, finding enjoyment in watching you squirm. “And here I thought you had an innocent date planned. But my cheeky little sunshine just wanted me all to herself, hmm?”

“N-no!!” you whipped your head to his direction, leaning against the door with blush riddled on your cheeks. “I-i just wanted to make you a home cooked meal. I-i prefer cooking over going out.” You dipped your head to the ground feeling a little ashamed of your introvertedness. Bringing such a dangerous man home wasn't exactly the thought that crossed your brain when you thought of this evening. In truth you were only thinking about treating him to your cooking, something you took pride in. “I’m not very good with other people.”

He brought his hand to your chin, lifting your face up so he could look at you in the eyes. There was no judgement in his soft gaze, heck even his killer smirk was now only a small simple smile. “As long as I'm with you, we could be doing anything, besides…” He leaned down to give the side of your face a kiss before whispering, “I’m not one for crowds either.”

You gulped, nodding slightly as you turned back to open the door. Yunho’s gaze shifted from yours as soon as he heard the creek of the wood, finally getting a peek inside your little place you call home. Your place was riddled with a vintage, cottagey-like aesthetic. It was like Yunho had stumbled into a fairies hut that was hidden away in the woods.the smell of your salt lamp was strong but not as strong as the calming lavender. He felt like the air around him was giving him the warmest hug. Everything was soft, cute, and dainty… just like you. You lead him deeper into the apartment, letting him take the lead once you get to an archway. It led into the lounge room he found, spotting the emerald couch and various bookshelves encasing a tv cabinet. “Uh..I… make yourself at home, i just got to put away some things and i’ll start to prepare dinner.”

You scurried off before he had the chance to protest, not that he would have that is. He was almost scared to take a seat, his black on black attire completely stuck out to the surroundings. Slicked back hair, expensive accessories, shoes worth more than most of your furniture… He was so out of place. Taking a seat he felt himself sink into the cushions. He was being bombarded by plushies falling onto him as he shifted to get comfortable. Everything smelled like you, sweet, sugary, a hint of freshly baked goods and old books. He couldn’t help him, leaning down he brought his face to a blanket you use regularly when lounging on the couch. He took a deep inhale. ‘God help me’ he'd think to himself as his fingers tangled in the soft fabric, feeling his hips twitch at the thought of your scent round him. Paint him as a pervert, he didn't care, all he cared about in this moment was the feeling of you. Craving, begging to see if he could have you as more.

A loud clunk caught his attention, making him snap out of the haze clogging his mind. He’s never sat up quicker, swiftly moving towards the kitchen to only find you with a pot on the ground and the lid firmly in your hand as if you were using it as a shield. “Whoops…” was all you could mutter, feeling like your nerves had been shot from the loud noise. Yunho scooped up the pot, trying to see if you were okay only to see your face completely red. The same red as the tomatoes on the counter. “I can't stop my hands shaking,”

You tried to laugh it off lightly at how nervous you were with such a man like Yunho being in your house. You were starting to regret bringing him here and wishing you just sucked it up and took him to a restaurant instead. Yunho's free hand placed itself on your upper arm, gently rubbing up and down on your soft skin before giving the flesh a squeeze. He hadn't even realised you were dressed in something different, another sundress, but this one was black with lace accents on the hems. the ribbon holding up your hair matched it accordingly. “Hey It's okay. Just take a deep breath, baby.”

Him calling you all these pet names weren't helping but you obeyed him as best as you could nonetheless. “I just feel a little silly bringing you here. You know since we barely know one another and I don't want you to get the wrong impression…”

“And what kind of impression would you be giving me, hmm?” He didn't mean to come off as teasing but his deep tone caused him to always sound alluring.

“I..uh. That I wanted to just get you to my place to sleep with you. Cause that's not the reason i just really dont l-like—” you stopped rambling as soon as your eyes met Yunho’s. His dark blown out gaze causes your words to get caught in your throat.Yunho had put the pot down a while ago, his spine straight as he stepped closer. You instinctively took a step back and then another before your hips made contact with the counter. Yunho placed a foot on either side of yours and his hands on the marble behind you. You were caged.

"And what if that was the reason? Would it be so bad?" It was like his voice got deeper, more sultry as he took a deep grumbling breath, taking in the scent of your perfume and shampoo.

"I j-just don't want to ruin anything we could have." You whispered, your eyes fluttering close. But Yunho simply stared holes into your flesh, like he could see straight to your soul. This cute little thing in front of him wants more than a hookup? Wants to actually get to know him? He doesn't know if he had just won the jackpot, or this was, in fact, a cruel dream he hadn't woken up to yet.

"Trust me, darling. Nothing you can do will ruin anything between us..." he leaned down to your ear, "Even if it's sex."

You choked when you heard him groan that unruly word. Your hand clapping over your mouth to hide your gasp. Never in your life have you been put into a situation quite sultry as this one. The men you’ve dated were only stereotypical, self-centered or mama’s boys. Worse if they were all three. But Yunho was different. He is no gentleman but yet, if you asked for the moon he would do anything to give it to you. He is not a nice man but if someone were to hurt the old lady that runs the little shoe shop down the street he would not be afraid to kill the fucker who did her wrong. He is not a lover but he’d be damned if he didnt wife you up the moment he could. Yunho was different and that's why you had quickly fallen for the man even if those around you did not approve. “W-what if I were to ask for more tonight. Not just dinner…”

Yunho’s heart stopped, he was sure of it. His body moving closer his lips inches from your own, “I would give anything your pretty little heart desires… all you gotta say is, please.”

You opened your eyes to see his dark ones locked on you. Moving your hand slowly, you snaked them gently around his neck, feeling his soft locks tangle between your fingers. “Please…” His lips locked onto yours, stealing the yelp from your throat. His hands that were gripping firmly on the counter now tugged at your hips, bringing you flushed against him. You could feel his body heat pool where you needed him most. You’ve never been kissed like this before. The softness with pure desperation lingering. It was as if your nerves exploded with little fireworks across your spine as you shiver under him. “Y-yu..y..” He was quick to swallow your cries, using his leg to spread your thighs more so he could easily slip between them.

“If we keep going, We aren't having dinner.” Yunho groaned against your tongue, pulling away with a tug on your bottom lip. He could hear a slight ring in his blushed ears, feeling his whole body shaking, craving to keep going. But he needed you to take the lead. Tell him what you wanted… for now.

“My bedroom is the first door on the left.” Your smile seemed to be contagious as Yunho couldn't help but give you a cheeky little smirk in return. He wasted no time in taking a hold of your lips again, but this time he took a step back, letting you both shuffle ungracefully towards the hallway. You huffed as you almost tripped, giving up with the kiss. You grabbed a hold of his hand that was still tightly against your hip, intertwining your fingers withs his. You both stood there for a moment. Nothing but battered breath and racing heart beats could be heard. It was like the world had ceased to exist around this very moment. His hazy gaze travelled from where you were both connected, up your soft arms, until he reached your lips. They were swollen, puffy and pink. Beautiful… Yunho thought. Everything about you was simply beautiful.

You gave him a soft smile, one he has never seen ever pointed in his direction, and with your hands tightly interlocked, you lead him slowly into your bedroom. A shy grin decorated your features. Something that Yunho's dark stare didn't linger from, as if he needed to map out every curve and twist to keep it perfectly accurate in his mind for years to come. From the intense gaze, you look away and towards your bed.

As soon as you opened the door, Yunho was met with the sweetest scent. It was so much stronger than the one that painted your apartment. Strawberries, vanilla, and brown sugar. The room wasn't much different from the rest of your place. It was neat, tidy. But there were blankets and plushies galore on your bed. Like a little nest to keep you safe from the outside world. The bedding was a forest green that matched the similar greens on your desk that sat in the corner. You, of course, had a bookshelf in here, too, filled with a number of different kinds of novels. Yunho reminded himself to bring up the one you recommended to him when you first met.

"Cute..." Was all he spoke, making your red face become even more hotter. You turned back to him, seeing his gaze glued to you, eyeing you with a devilish smirk. "...Just like you.”

Yunho lowered himself to place his lips on yours in another heated kiss. His hands wandered lower and lower, making your own fly to grab his shoulders. He backs you up slowly, step by step. Your hazy mind was too focused on the deepening kiss to notice any movement. It wasn't until you were suddenly startled by the edge of the bed hitting your thighs that you pulled away from the man in front of you. Yunho didn't hesitate to push you back gently. The little yelp that escaped your throat would have sounded pathetic if in a different scenario, but Yunho couldn't help but groan in response to the sound. Before you could protest anything, Yunho quickly stifled any noise as he followed you to capture your lips once more in a fierce kiss.

Teeth clashed against each other, and tongues danced like there was no tomorrow. It was like Yunho couldn't get enough of you. He needed to taste you in every way possible. The whimper that slipped from him as his mouth ventures lower to your jaw, biting and lapping at your skin. Then the same is done to your neck, your collarbone, all the way to the part of your breasts that was exposed by your sundress. You gasp, tipping your head back onto the plushies behind you while your hands loosen from the fabric on his shoulders.

Yunho suddenly stopped, his dark gaze looking up at your flushed expression. You're as red as a tomato with glossed over eyes, and God is it a delicious look on you.

"Such a pretty little thing." He groans, his voice all but a hushed whisper, slowly snaking his hands to your knees, playing with the lacy hem of your dress. "May I, Sunshine?" You nodded while biting your lip, a little too enthusiastically, shifting a little side to side. You tried to ease some of the ache between your legs.

“Use your words, Darling,” He grins, his touch unmoving.

“Please Yunho,” you finally squeak out. He shifts his body lower until he is snuggly between your legs. The sight of him looking at you through his lashes while his tongue coaks a thin layer of spit on his lips was enough to make you wet. You shiver as his large hands run from your knee, up your thigh, under your dress before returning back to your knee, tantalisingly. As if marvelling at what was before him. What you were gifting him. He does it again, this time letting his finger tips linger a little bit longer on your inner thigh before pulling away completely, leaving a thrilling chill to run down your spin. “I need you…”

His ghosting hand places itself back on the soft parts of your thighs, squeezing as he heard those three words slip from your pretty mouth. “You need me, sunshine? Need me to take the ache away? Tell me what you need, baby.”

“I want you to taste me…” You felt shy whispering such filth but Yunho on the other hand, simply raised an eyebrow at your daring comment. It was something so daring it brought a smile to his older features. His little sunshine wasn’t innocent and he was slowly drawing the darkness out. His thumbs hooked on the edge of the dress hesitating before pulling the fabric up, agonisingly slow.

“Hmm, I knew my girl had a dark side.” He spoke with a lightly chuckle escaping his reddened lips from him biting them in anticipation. My girl…those words played in your head on loop, like your new favourite song. My girl. Argh you would never get over him saying that. He hikes your dress up higher to reveal your cute purple panties with a deep wet patch on them. You’re soaked right through. It was like he couldn't help himself, taking his pointer finger he pressed firmly on the patch watching the fabric stick to your core. He couldn't help but groan, “All this talk and here you are…dripping.”

Yunho dragged you underwear down your thighs. The cool air that crept from your bedroom window immediately hits the warmth of your core below. His fingers snatch the fabric clean off your legs, flicking them off to the side somewhere before his lustful gaze finally sets on the prize he had been yearning for ever since he first met you.

He swipes his thumb over your aching cunt, collecting some slick with his finger. It sent a jolt through you, your thighs twitching without your control. He coated his fingers more, watching your juices spill down his digit onto his knuckles. He does it once more for good measure, this time rubbing over your clit to earn himself a delicious whine from you. You grip at the bedsheets, widening your legs further for him unconsciously as he continues to play and rub at your clit just right. "Fuck...Yun."

"That's it sunshine, feeling good?" He chuckled watching you flinch as he pressed harshly on your clit. He snaked closer before his face was inches from you. He blew onto your wet lips, causing a gasp to leave you, but the gasp quickly turned into a high-pitched whine as you suddenly felt the warmth of his mouth upon you. He begins to lap up your pussy all the while still harshly circling your clit, moans escaping your parted lips. The noises turned into something desperate when the thumb was replaced by his firm tongue, pressing down and licking at your swollen bud, again and again. Yunho groaned against you, bucking his hips into the mattress at a stuttering pace. You took notice of his whine, feeling another one while he ground his hips just right against the sheets.

"Please, yuyu, t-that. I..ah."

You've never had any man pay this much attention to you before, let alone find enjoyment in eating you out. You can feel yourself becoming absolutely soaked just under the sensation of his mouth. Your legs quiver and shake, unable to control your movements as you feel yourself tip closer to the edge.

You try to take a deep breath. Feeling yourself already so close has made you feel slightly embarrassed. But as he sunk his long finger inside of your cunt, all the nerves seemingly washed away. Another one slid in easily and "Nh-ah YUNHO!" He curls them upwards, right to the spot that sends a spark of electricity crackling through your core.

He begins a steady rhythm along with his tongue continuously lapping your clit like he was a starved man taking his fill of a goddesses nectar and you're unable to control the noises and pants that fall from your throat. You grip one hand into the sheets as flies to grab the back of your thigh. lifting your leg up further to give him more access. You need more. You craved more. You've never felt this good before, and your being was demanding to be selfish for once.

He added a third finger as if he knew you needed something more. It made your head slam into the pillow behind you, turning to almost shout into the soft cushioning, muffling yourself for your poor neighbours. He works up a good rhythm, finding what buttons to push, succeeding in getting to know what your body wants. Groans from him and other lustfulled sniffles fill the room, as your thighs clamp down around the mob boss's head, keeping him where he is.

He could barely breath as your hips buck against his soaked face. But he couldn't care less. In fact, he would be happy if he died like this. In between the legs of his best girl, his pretty little sunshine. You felt like you were about to explode but the euphoria didn't last long as Yunho used his free hand that had been holding onto your outer thigh to pull your legs apart, holding them in place so he could sit up slightly. "You close, baby? Do you need to cum?"

"Yes!" You answered in a choked whine needing to feel his mouth on you once again.

"Yes, what sunshine?" Normally, he would be one for punishment, and given you kept breaking rules, he was most certainly craving to punish you. But it decided to let it slide this one. He has more than enough time to mould you and shape you into his perfect angel later. But for now, he'll see what type of filth he can draw from you.

"Yes, please, Yunho." Your glossed eyes finally opened for the first time in what felt like years, your tears clouding most of your vision but you could still see the darkness in Yunho's gaze and how his chin was dripping with slick. Your slick.

He drove his fingers deeper, his knuckles brushing your walls as he slammed his digits in a calculated thrusts. Harsh, slow, and powerful. You become louder, needier, and you can’t get your breathing under control. You’re teetering right on the edge. Ready. Right there and then...

He stops.

His glistening face had the cheekiest, wet grin across it like he felt proud of edging you. You on the other hand looked almost shocked panting louding, heart beating in your ears with flush brilliant red cheeks. You lick your lips as you run your hand over your mouth before raking it through your slightly dishevelled hair. Your eyes grew narrow as you stared at the man between your shaking legs. He holds your thighs apart so you can’t clamp them shut to try and stop the intense tingling between, causing you to huff in frustration.

“Don’t need to ruin the fun now, princess,” he inquired as he stood up off the bed, towering over your weak looking frame. The moon light that was pooling in the room caused his shadow to engulf you, covering your body in his darkness. He looked powerful. He looked dangerous. Like the man everyone warned you about. The feared mafia leader of the Destiny clan. He pulls you by your ankles, yanking you until you were sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand gripped the back of your neck gently bringing your face to his so he could kiss you. But you kept your hand over your mouth, your other hand coming to place on his chest, holding him firmly in face with a hidden smirk.

“You are a cruel man.” You gestured to him not letting you finish, but in truth, the word cruel hung in the air like thick tension. Cruel. A word he was sadly used to. But not in this kind of way. It almost delighted him. You felt your heart jump as he raised his brow, coming closer so that he’s only a hair’s breadth away from the back of your hand. His dark eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail.

“Hmm why? You taste so sweet,” He bit his lip, “I want you to have a taste?” He mimics what you asked prior. You swallowed thickly with wide eyes nodding shyly. Slowly, you moved your hand away as he paused for a moment, just to see your flustered face once more. “Cute…”

He dives in, kissing you, lapping at your lips. His teeth nibbling, and his teeth clashing against yours. You could taste the muskiness of yourself on his tongue, the sweetness that lingered. You deepen the kiss, allowing his hand on the back of your neck to hold it still in place, giving up any power to give him everything of your being. Your hands shift to his shirt, catching the hem between your finger tips before tugging at the fabric. He seemed to get the gist as he pulled away for only a mere couple of seconds to pull his shirt off, snatching your lips against his once more.

Your fingers trace his body with your sight, feeling all the bumps of scar tissue and muscle. More proof of his status, of who he really was. But yet you still couldn’t pull yourself away. You’re not sure if you ever will. “Yu..” You huffed against his lips, “Yun I..”

He pulls away, letting his nose rub against yours while his eyes stay tightly sealed, taking in the moment like he was never going to be able to get it again. “What is it, my sunshine.”

“I need you… please.” You voice was barely above a whisper, only you and him being able to ever hear your little plea. His smile. His addicting smile made the butterflies in your tummy swoon. His hand that was firmly on your neck slid down until it found the zipper to your dress, playing with the metal between his digits.

“Can you stand?” He gently asked, waiting for you to nod a small ‘yes’. He helped you stand, the backs of your thighs still tightly against the edge of the bed, as if they were helping you stand. He finally pulled away, letting your eyes wander down his toned, damaged chest. He had tattoos up both arms, one of his right peck and one faintly sticking out on the top of his low slacks. You licked your swollen lips unconsciously as you gawked at him. Yunho on the other hand couldn't help but grin sinisterly at your reaction, delicately grabbing the zipper on your dress, he unzipped it until the straps of your dress loosened and fell from your shoulders.

The fabric pooled at your chest, your arms tightly holding it in place. “I…”

“Are you okay, love?” Your eyes snapped to his deep chocolate ones when he called you ‘love’, feeling your nerves crackling like fireworks. He tilted his head to the slide marginally, his smirk fading to a simple smile but his eyes never dimming their darkness. His hands gripped tightly onto his belt, unlooping it before throwing it somewhere in the room. He had made you watch his every move as he unzipped his slack unhurriedly. He could see the darkness begin to cloud your colourful eyes, your pupils growing large as the fabric fell to the floor, leaving him in his boxers. “Your turn.”

His voice somehow got deeper. His fingers gliding along your goosebumped skin. You took a deep inhale through your nose before letting your dress drop, pooling at your ankles. "Fuck..."

"Yun..." You dont even know why you called his name, but he was immediately on you, his one hand resting on your bare hip while the other effortlessly unhooked your bra in one quick snap, watching your plump breast spring free. He almost bent you in half when he brought his face to your tits, taking a deep breath, smelling your perfume on your sweaty skin. His tongue licked along the valley, groaning as he latched his mouth to your left nipple. "Fuck yuyu, nargh."

Your hands tangled in his hair as you feel back, dragging him with you as you fell on the bed with an 'oof'. He used his strong arms to throw your body upwards until your head hit the pillows, not leaving your breasts alone. He painted every part of skin he could with beautiful purple marks. Neading your chest, tugging on your nipples and wetting every surface. You could lay here and suck your tits for hours if you let him. But he knew you needed more. He needed more. Feel what it's like to be inside you.

"Such perfect tits. A pretty body. Everything about you is perfect sunshine. Hmm. My perfect girl." His praise made you whimper, a tear creeping out the corner of your eyes. You've never had someone say such kind things to you, praised you the way Yunho has been. For a cruel man, he was the kindest person you've ever met.

"Yu..yunho, please. I need you inside me." You whispered, tugging his head up by his hair so his lips were inches from your own. He gave you a small peck before sitting up slightly so he could wrap his legs around his waist, sliding the tip of his cock along your folds.

“Whatever my girl wants, she’ll get.” He sunk inside your soaked cunt inch by inch, bit by bit, until he bottomed you out. He shivered at the feling of your warm walls clenching tightly around him. His eyes squeezing shut and face burring in your neck. He could feel the coil in his gut already tug. he was going to cum any second and he felt embarrassed how quick you’ve made him feel like he had died and gone to heaven. “Fuck sunshine, you feel so nice. You’re pussy is sucking me in ngah.”

“Yunho please move.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, grinding upwards onto his public bone, feeling the friction ease the ache only just. It was like a switch went off when Yunho heard your little plea, snapping his hips into yours are such a pace it caused the air to be snatched out of your lungs. If you werent being fucked by the inch of your life you would of felt sorry towards your neightbours as a string of cries, swears and pet names bounced off the thin walls of your bedroom. Yunho drug his nails in the soft flesh of your waist, surely creating deep indents that you’d been flaunting for days to come.

You’ve never felt such a connection to another person before let alone a man. You were brought up with the idea that love didn’t exsit. That it was only a dream that settled in the books you’ve read. But the way Yunho made you feel, the way he made you want to feel. It was like you were in those books you’ve read.. “Yu..Yu I—”

“It okay baby. Let go. I wanna feel you cum around my cock.” He sat up just slightly grabbing both of your wrists he held your hands above your head, lacing his fingers harshly around your appendage. Bending one of your legs over his shoulder, he jackhammered into you at a sped that was just what you needed, feeling his waist grind on your clit, giving you the right amount of simulation to let go. “That’s it, darling.”

Your foggy eyes, riddled with tears, stared up at Yunho’s never leaving his gaze. He watch every detail your face made as you came crashing down from your high. The way you brows cross, you mouth hung only ajar and savlia dripping down your chin. You were the hottest thing he had ever laid eyes on, he was certain. “Fuck, sunshine, can I come inside you. Can I feel this pretty pussy up?”

His eyes begun to flutter closed as he felt a rush of need spill down his spine. You whimpered out a daring ‘yes please’ making him bust his load deep inside you, coaking your walls before some of his cum leaked out around his cock that stilled in you. Clouds daced around you, the softness of air tickling your sweaty flesh. Every nerve in your body was on an all time high and it was all thanks to the dangerous man above you. Yunho had let go of your wrist, kissing each one tendly. You simply lazily watched him, basking in the moment, never wanting it to end.

-♡

[caplanbuckybarnes]

here's over 2.5K prompts of all sorts you can use for your writing ideas!

happy writing!

[star-my]

berserk tiger - iv. impulsion

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Kim Seo-ah (OC)

Rating: PG-13

WC: 1.6k

CW: sibling shenanigans (Jinah extorts Yoongi semi-seriously), lack of boundaries between characters, Miran may (not-so-)secretly be a voyeur? (Jin is Shocked)

A/N: No beta so feel free to point out typos or give concrit. Compliments are always nice. Moodboard photos are taken from Pinterest, edit is mine. This part is inspired by @sabiekay <3

| Series Masterlist & Description | Masterlist | Ao3 |

Taglist (open): @bangtan-famiglia-net @bangtanwritershq @kayleefriedchicken @veronawrites

Seo-ah knocked on Yoongi’s office door, poking her head in when he greeted her. “I’m back.”

He nodded. “Did you have a good time?”

She grinned, thinking of what she’d left in her closet. “I did. Miran is really fun to be around.”

Yoongi’s eyebrow raised. “Good, maybe now that I have a wife, that’ll keep her out of my hair.”

With that cryptic comment, he returned to his work. Taking the silent dismissal for what it was, Seo-ah closed the door silently and returned to her, no their, room. She had a closet to organize.

~~~

Jinah immediately tracked Seo-ah down when she returned from school, plopping onto the tufted bench in the middle of the closet with a sigh. “How was your day, unnie?”

“It was good, I went shopping with a new friend and then I’ve been putting my things away. How was yours?”

“Same as usual,” she shrugged, pulling a candy out of her pocket and popping it into her mouth. “Want one?”

Seo-ah refused the offer, not wanting to get her new things sticky before she’d even worn them. 

“You should go study, Jinah. It’s almost time for your exams.”

With a belaboured sigh, her sister got up, though she lingered at the doorway. “What’s that?”

Seo-ah glanced down at the item in her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s a wedding present from me to Yoongi. Don’t you think it suits him?”

Jinah cocked her head at the fabric Seo-ah held up. Nodding, she agreed. “You must tell me what he says about that.”

“Okay, as long as you study,” Seo-ah insisted.

Rolling her eyes, Jinah left, leaving the door open behind her.

“I left you a snack in the fridge!” Seo-ah called after.

She continued her folding and sorting, down to the last bag now. 

A cough behind her made her turn to see Yoongi standing in the doorway. “I thought I should let you know that dinner is almost ready. Uh, I’ll leave you to–”

His gaze flicked down to what she’d paused folding, then back up to her eyes.

Willing herself not to get flustered, as she remembered that she was putting away a rather scandalously lacy lingerie set Miran had forced her to buy, she simply nodded. “Thank you, I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll be settled and ready to cook tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I like to,” she insisted, turning to hang the lingerie in the darkest depths of her half of the closet.

“Alright. Do you mind if I join you sometimes? I like to cook as well.”

She smiled at him. “Of course not, it’s your kitchen. There’s plenty of space so we shouldn’t worry about getting in each other’s way.”

He nodded silently and left just as silently, leaving her to stare after him curiously.

~~~

The meal was fairly quiet, though Jinah did her best to contribute conversation. 

“How would you feel about hosting a welcome dinner so my closest employees can meet you and Jinah?” Yoongi suddenly asked, setting down his chopsticks.

Seo-ah blinked. “That sounds fine. When were you thinking?”

“Hm, would next Thursday work for you?”

“That sounds fine. You know I never have a packed social calendar,” she grinned. 

“And what about the first of next month, we reveal our relationship to the public? Quietly, but just something to show off my beautiful wife and let them know that I’m a taken man now?”

Jinah cooed. “You’re earning more and more Husband Approval Points, oppa. Keep it up!”

Yoongi glanced at Seo-ah, who tried to hide her smile behind her water glass. “Thank you?”

“When you reach one thousand HA Points, I may consider forgiving you for not letting me know you were dating my sister until after you were married,” Jinah informed him.

“Jinah–” began Seo-ah, but Yoongi raised his hand, shushing her. 

“How many Husband Approval Points do I have at the moment?”

“Five.”

He tsked. “How do I gain these points?”

“Being good to Seo-ah. I will also add two points for every ten thousand won you give me.”

“Jinah!” scolded Seo-ah, now truly shocked. “That is very out of line for you to say!”

“I respect your hustle,” Yoongi told Jinah seriously, fishing his wallet out of his pants. He handed three 5,000 won bills to her waiting hand. “15,000 won, equal to five Husband Approval Points, correct? That brings me up to ten points, or one percent approved of.”

Jinah nodded. “You’re smart. I knew I liked you.”

Seo-ah kicked Yoongi’s foot under the table, making him look at her and her frown. “Don’t encourage her extortion, Yoon.”

He stared at her.

Clearing her throat at the sudden tension in the air, Jinah spoke up. “It’s May twentieth now, which gives Yoongi-oppa approximately six and a half months to reach one thousand points by the end of the year. Care to make any bets on if he’ll make it?”

Yoongi tore his eyes away from Seo-ah to face her sister. “That sounds very arbitrary, especially if you plan on being in charge of the betting and point-awarding. What’s to stop you from rigging it? I think I’d better call my financial advisor here so we can settle this clearly.”

Seo-ah kicked his foot again, harder. “There’s no need to disturb Seokjin and Miran this late, Yoongi. Jinah, no betting, and no bribing Yoongi. You don’t need to disturb him.”

Jinah tsked but settled down, winking at Yoongi when she thought Seo-ah didn’t notice.

~~~

Yoongi’s head poked around the closet door to their bedroom, his sudden appearance in her peripheral vision making her turn. 

His deadpan face made her blink in confusion for a moment before she remembered what she’d left on his shelves.

Ah. He’d found it. “You found my present?” she smirked.

He stepped out of the closet fully, revealing the cat-print pyjamas she’d bought under Miran’s urging after they giggled about his feline-ness that morning. Stifling a giggle as she took in the look, she managed, “They look very nice…they really suit you.”

“It would be rude not to wear them when you took such care to get them for me,” he excused himself, sliding into bed and hiding the view under the covers.

She snickered again, joining him and turning out the lights. Miran would be so happy to hear how their prank had turned out.

~~~

Kim Seokjin and Miran’s house

“Babe, you have to leave early to meet Yoongi at the office for that meeting this morning, right?”

Jin turned from fixing his hair in the mirror to his wife, a little puzzled at the non-sequitur.

“I’m going to leave in half an hour, why?”

“Why don’t you carpool today and go pick him up? I’ll go with you, I want to visit Seo-ah.”

Jin shrugged in acquiescence. “Alright, I can leave in five instead. You’re getting close to his wife fast, aren’t you?”

Miran’s head emerged from the dress she pulled on, arms patting down the creases. “I guess so. It’s nice to have someone who understands what it’s like being married to a mobster.”

“Jagiya…we don’t know what she knows, yet. Please don’t get too attached until we know what Yoongi is doing.”

“I know, I know,” she bumped him out of the way to brush her mascara on. “It’s still nice to make new friends, though!”

Jin let them into Yoongi’s house with his key and passcode, surprised at how dark and quiet it still was. He headed to the kitchen to make some tea, expecting Miran to be right behind him.

Of course, his nosy wife was not, instead tiptoeing down the hallway to Yoongi’s room.

Jin followed her reluctantly, wondering at her invasion of privacy while also knowing that Yoongi had to be up and ready to leave soon.

“Aren’t you even going to knock?” he whispered in Miran’s ear as she wrapped her fingers around the handle. 

“Shh, I want to see something,” she hissed back.

Jin gasped. “Since when was my innocent Miran-ie a voyeur?!”

She elbowed him back with a glare. “Not that, Jin. Seo-ah got him cat pyjamas and I need to see if he’s wearing them. There’s no way he’ll wear them unless he’s actually in love with her.”

Now Jin’s curiosity was aroused, and against his mature adult brain’s warnings, he followed his impulsive teenage brain’s idea instead.

~~~

Yoongi and Seo-ah’s house

Seo-ah blinked her eyes open, feeling surprisingly rested. Where was she? Oh, yes, her new husband’s bed. He was awake already, looking at her for who knows how long. She blushed, reaching up to pat her bedhead down. 

“How long were you awake?”

“Not long.”

His already sensual voice was even worse better in the morning, she found out, feeling something when he spoke. 

“So, about last night…”

She hummed, closing her eyes, still too asleep to remember.

“You called me Yoon.”

Her eyes flew open. “Sorry, was that inappropriate?”

He shook his head, one arm emerging from the covers to pat her still-mussed hair down. “I haven’t been called Yoon in years. It was nice to hear. Nicknames really sell the act, too, don’t you think?”

“You’re right…yeobo.”

His eyes crinkled at her teasing advance.

“Glad you agree, jagiya.”

A scratch at the door made Yoongi turn, eyes narrowing. 

“Would that be your sister?”

Seo-ah shrugged in confusion. “Jinah?”

A loud yelp sounded from outside, and Seo-ah rushed out of bed. Yoongi halted her at the door, putting his arm in front of her and quietly wrapping his hand around the knob and turning. 

He yanked it open to reveal Jinah holding one of his nice kitchen knives in the air, pointed at his second and his second’s wife, who were directly outside the door.

“What is going on?”

[soul-shenanigans]

Nightmare sent them to pick you up-

[pruwinkle]

mafia au anemo boys that i never got to post :>

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

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[darkdemeter]

THE THREAT OF INTIMACY

⚤ Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Angst — insecure reader and depictions of negative thoughts and fear of sexual intimacy — profanity — SMUT 18+ mdni — virgin!reader/loss of virginity — unprotected sex — hurt/comfort — oral (female receiving) — le dasha of body worship —cream pie — mafia bucky being a huge softy for his wife — I think that's it ✎ 7.4k A beautiful bride marrying the man of your dreams. But when faced with what comes after the vows and first dance as Mr. and Mrs Barnes, you suggest that a particular arrangement be made.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

It’s not so much of a grand show once the curtain falls. There hangs a greed of mischief and ominous silence. He looks at you, blue eyes piercing the exposed skin of your back, the white gown hangs an elegant silhouette on you. Its embroidered sculpts become melded into the fabricated folds as you stop midst the gate of your saunter forwards, each step a reminder drawing nearer as you do to the bed. 

Did you really have to do this? 

It was an era of change after all. But his seniors were old school, and so you expected him to be as well in the matters of the marriage bed. It is expected of you — the both of you. Your hands fish through the elaborate style of your hair, musing it loose and gaining a comforted scalp as you turn away from the bed and walk over to the large windows that extend from top to bottom, overlooking the twinkling space of stars fallen to earth. 

Being far away from it means you are torn from it. Once you step foot back in that place, you are no longer the girl you once were.

You are now Mrs. Barnes. A wolf among sheep. The queen of the Bratva. A cooperation of mobsters who have bought police eyes and silenced officials of the government. But was this status and power worth what is intended to follow? 

You didn’t have a real choice in the matter. Well, maybe you did. You fell for him, you won’t deny it, and you fell hard for him. Other pickings were not as savoury, nor did they explode with the chemistry you shared with him. But this wasn’t the only factor. 

It’d been clear that your hearts were set on one another. With the subtle whispers into the other’s ear, hugging and kissing, fingers entwined, or the more assuring hand on the low of your back. This intimacy had been a flavour sweet – loving – and you came to embrace these softer textures of your life at his side. His proposal was impossibly expected but even then, you couldn’t contain your surprise and eagerly said yes.

You never gave the thought of what came next exactly. The very intimate aftermath. Until his mother pulled you aside, a smile on her painted ruby lips as she guided you to walk with her through the hedged gardens. That conversation is one you will never forget. Her love is shocking, her devotion to her husband and family, you can hardly stand the thought of not loving her in return. 

But that talk shocked you. 

Half of it because of the gory details she regaled, but the other half because of your own mind. Your poisoned mind that festers with anxious insecurities. 

Of course it’s expected. Your virginity doesn’t exactly wave you as an expert, no matter what talks of womanhood you are subjected to. But by the standard of Mr. Bucky Barnes, his former bachelor days had given him what you lack: experience. 

What if I’m so bad that he’s repulsed by me? 

He’ll only need to take one look at me and that’ll be enough.

What if I can’t make him cum? 

What exactly am I supposed to do— I don’t think I’m ready. 

You continue on in your panicked, internal reverie, hand raised to rest your lips against your knuckles, the shine of diamonds catching in the dark reflection, a momentary blindness befalls you that then causes your stomach to writhe with unease.

“Hey,” your husband whispers, breath warm over the shell of your ear and his lips tease the curve of your exposed neck with light kisses. Your body flinches at the suddenness of his appearance right behind you, his chest to your back; you feel tears deep into the corner of your eyes, hot and wet and annoying. The stronghold of air chokes you in the back of your throat.

“Mm, hi…” 

Your forced smile is quick to fade, just barely passing back a glance at him before looking away. He catches this falter. His expression is shadowed by a troubled frown. He noticed the way you flinched before him. And that glistening of tears is hard to miss when it comes to you.  

“Talk to me,” he presses gently, “you okay?” 

His hands are strong and sure as he holds you, turns you to face him directly now, putting the window to your back. Your ring bound hand massages over your face with a breath hollowing out in a deep sigh. 

“Yeah. I’m good, I think we should get some rest. It’s been a big day.” 

Before you can step around him, his hand circles the entirety around your forearm, holding you in place.

“You don’t want to…” At the trailing end of his words with his blue eyes alluding to his meaning, the sting of tears prick your vision again and a flush paints your cheeks and neck red. He lets you walk away with the train of your dress flowing behind you like a silken shadow. 

“I don’t think tonight.”

Or any other night… 

Bucky’s throat bobs with a thick swallow, nodding as he watches you. Always a man who knows what to do, how to maintain composure — his power — he feels that confidence wane like the fading moon. Powerless.

The words brewing on your tongue are tart, poisonous and unpleasant. Not the sort you would ever want to say to your husband, no less on your wedding night. 

You’d ventured over to the vanity by now, you say beneath a shaken exhale, “I’ll look to hire a mistress.”

“Excuse me?” He gasps sharply. 

Your reply, voice short of anything joking or playful. You sit before the vanity and bend forward, unfastening the golden clasps on your heels before you set them aside. “I’ll have a mistress contracted for you. We’ll do everything else together but she will… provide the sexual affairs.”

“And you?” His question makes you pause midway of turning fully towards the mirror, only barely do you see him trail the outskirts of the room, just only in focus of your view. With a sigh, you pluck your earrings out, saying more so to your own reflection than him, “I’ve gone this long without sex, Bucky. I’m sure I can go on the rest of my life without it.” 

“No, no, we’re not doing things like that. I married you — I want you.” Why is that just too hard to believe? You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes in the mirror, so you look away, anywhere that doesn’t meet his gaze. “Honey, where the fuck did this come from?”

You don’t answer. The man is practically brought to his knees before you like a servant ready to obey you like a goddess. Treatment he committed to you, though you don’t feel deserving of. He spins you slowly on your stool until you face him, knelt before you, he tries to find the stunning awe of your eyes only to find you hiding away from him. “Did somebody say something to you? Who was it?” 

Quick to spare someone needless bloodshed, you stand abruptly, almost knocking him back and storm away from him by some feet, putting distance between you both, your voice carries over your shoulder, “Nobody said anything. I just think this arrangement will be better for us.”

You’re blinking back a curtain of tears that threaten to unleash. A wave rises high like a tsunami in your soul with these stupid, incessant thoughts. 

You’re imperfect. 

You’re ugly. 

Let another woman – a beautiful woman – please him. 

He’ll regret marrying you once he sees you.

Fingers ringing the course of massaging your temples, you are slowly being drowned by many, many thoughts like these. They're endless. They’re relentless and they are loveless. Not once do you give yourself the internal piece of mind that maybe, just maybe, there is hope in this relationship. That they are wrong. That he won’t judge or run from you. But who can say for sure?

It’s best to play it safe and keep what dignity you have left. Despite the spitefulness of seeing him become satisfied by another woman, it would be better than depriving him for the rest of his life. And you care more for his own happiness. It’s all you want for him. 

He speaks up again, his voice going stern in his verbal study. “So, let me get this straight: I marry the love of my life, the very essence I love and breath for, only to… fuck another woman. After I swore a vow to you.” 

“Bucky, you’re making it sound—”

“I’ll go without sex for the rest of my life than have some whore in our bed.” 

You spin on your heel, mouth agape. Finally you look at him long enough as he works to slowly approach you and he sees just how badly you’re hurting on the inside. “Bucky—” 

How quick he is to cut you off before you can even utter another heinous thing, now reaching you. “I wouldn’t stand at the altar for just anyone. I gave up that bachelor life to have you. I chose you. I want to have all of you.”

You mutter, mumble off-centred excuses that come out as broken noises on a record, and then you let out a shaken breath, chest feeling like it's being cleaved and ripped apart to the point your body trembles. You try your hardest to suppress your quiet sniffles as the flow of tears begin, fingers hastefully dapping away as to not smear your makeup; your only means of perfection that you’ve felt in a while.

When you saw yourself in the white dress every little girl dreams of for the first time in a bridal shop far too expensive for the average, then again in the dressing room with hair and makeup done to the nines, it all almost made you forget about the gut-wrenching aftermath once the reception concluded. That you were walking down that aisle with a purpose you would never come to regret. 

Was it all a foolish fairytale to idolise this facade of beauty?

The hand bearing his ring uses a force so gentle you think it’s the end, that when you look up, he will be gone. That your wedding dress will fade into your everyday jeans and grandmother’s patchy sweater you treasure too much to throw away, her scent still lingering there to inhale on a bad day. 

He drives your focus upwards until your eyes meet, your vision hindered behind a blur that wets your lashes as you blink. A vibrant colour of blue that once intimidated you now attends to assure you, to quiet your riled fears, but there is a reluctance to let your guard down this time. 

His hands cradle your jaw in his hold with a promise to never let you go. To never let you know this fear again.

“I won’t judge. I won’t run in disgust or whatever you think I’m gonna do. I think my vows can be credited to that, yeah?” 

Your bottom lip sinks inward slightly, teeth biting down hard on the plump of flesh, muttering a softly broken, “I-I guess.” 

“You’re scared.”

It is shame that brings your eyes to falter, chin wobbling until it crinkles. “Yes…”

It’s like he could read you, knowing that your next move is to shove him off – push him away – he leans down and presses his lips to your own. Warm, a little roughened yet still retaining a softened plush of texture, he breathes some sort of cooling flame that soothes you if not for a short while. A rattled, sharpened gasp teeters on the edge of your voice and he parts from the kiss with a low and silky drawl. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. We can take our time with this.” 

You’re hoisted into his arms, strength unyielding as he carries you over to the bed and sets you atop the mattress like porcelain. For him, he’s scared how easily it is to break you, no matter how hard you hide this fragility. You use the outside of your hand to wipe at your nose and exhale loudly, mind prattling on with your swirling thoughts. 

Pathetic. 

He’ll definitely need a mistress after that display. 

And all you’re better off getting is a toy. 

His family will ridicule you. He’s going to tell everyone that his little wife refused to have sex with him on his wedding night.

Poisonous thoughts. They aren’t going away. With a sniffle, you watch Bucky begin to strip himself down, leaving himself to his boxers. However much you admire the act in itself, it’s far too intimate than anything else. The idea of you doing that for him sickens you. You become repulsed by yourself. 

Your mind is a hideous beast. 

Like you.

Shut up!

You make this wedding dress look ugly.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky’s voice breaks through the hazardous cloud like a lighthouse awaiting for you ashore, guiding you to safety. He offers you a smile you try to match only to feel your lips twitch, muscles cringing as you keep the well of tears and cries inside. He invites you to join him and you move up the bed. You can’t bear to shed the second skin of your dress to reveal the lavish, risque lace and frilly lingerie you’d picked out at the encouragement of your bridesmaids.

You never really gave it much thought before until it was too late. This culture of intimacy you perceive as a threat. 

Your husband doesn’t question you. Instead he lays beside you, arms stretched out to invite you into his embrace. An invite you half-heartedly indulge in, inching yourself awkwardly to his side but remaining to keep some inches from him.

Head laid on the tucked shelf of your arms, hair mused to fall over your features, you intend to wallow in silence until exhaustion overtakes you into sleep. 

You’ve ruined his day.

“What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours?” The question is directed to you, you’re sure. But it also sounds like he’s asking himself for the answer to a riddle he cannot begin to understand. 

“I’m sorry I ruined your day…”

The contortion of his features almost has your body locking up into a tightly wound position, the form of his dark brows bevelling in the middle, eyes widening until the blackened pupils shrink into tiny dots. 

“What?” he sputters, “No– no, honey. This is our day.”

Our day?

There is a storm of emotion battling in his own eyes, however, he is just as quick to hide it from you. He trails again to caress the line of your jaw, his thumb strokes along your bottom lip. “Love, I will never force you into anything. Not your first time, not your hundredth. You hear me, yeah?”

Your eyes only look to stare at him with a stillness, before you absently nod. Then you turn, putting your back to him. You cannot bring yourself to look at him out of sheer guilt that no matter what, he cannot silence the honest and cruel torment of voices in your head. Not forever. They will find something to pick out and gnaw at to send you into this spiral. 

If you could do so without the judgement of your husband, you would cry and howl into your pillow for hours until the perfect mirage of your makeup fell apart, you’d spare the dress from being a ridiculed taint by being on you any longer. You’d be on the phone to your sister pleading for her to keep you company and distract you from this pain, you’d cry into her chest as she held you with all the strength she possessed. You’d ask your parents to call you beautiful, even though it’s a lie. 

But you keep it all in. And it breaks you so harshly on the inside that it cuts you like thousands of shards shredding you apart. 

You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed between the void of silence. You can’t sleep. The tyrannical storm of emotion swarming inside you makes it impossible to even try lest you break and let it all out, letting it show. 

“B-Bucky?” you squeak, clearing your throat and you hear him hum immediately in response, the weight of him rolling over until his body is a ghost along your back. “Can I… uhm, can I ask you something?” 

Aside from the odd hiccup and sniffle here and there, you hold firm to sounding as you were before, the bubbly and playful girl Bucky couldn’t help but tease until you were a flustering mess, the girl who attempted to flirt back only to fumble over your words and proceed conversation with a shy smile. The girl he fell in love with. The one he gladly stood at the altar for. Before the voices.

“Of course, doll. Anything.”

 Nervously your fingers flex and wind together, thumbing the fabric over your breasts, the enclosed circlet of cleavage pressed closely together. You wish you could giggle at the way you caught Bucky gawking numerous times in supposed awe of you throughout the day. He often is like that every time he sees you though, now that you come to think about it. 

Supposedly.

Not likely real…

I’m going to regret asking this, aren’t I?

With a heavy swallow coated heavily in your hesitance, you take a breath in hope that proves to fail to settle your nerves. “You’ve been with plenty of girls before me… you know how to please them, what did…” you pause upon a whimper, “were they all the same?”

The amount of strain behind your vocal cords makes you cringe in disgust. You sound like—

“No, they were all different. Unique to each girl.” You can almost sense the way his head props up to look at you. His eyes staring a cool layer of heat into your back. “Just like you.”

“How can you say that?” Your voice betrays the toxins of a heart and mind poisoned together over far too long. Bucky hears the loathe of self in your words, dry and cynical, unbelieving in his words and your own image. “You’ve never even seen what I look like… you don’t know how I’ll be, I’ve never—” 

Your hands press over your eyes in hope to suppress the tears glassing over your vision. 

“Hey,” Bucky admonishes with a low drawl, tutting you, “hey. I’m not expecting the fucking grandios of perfect sex. I’m expecting you and only you. I want what makes you and your body unique.”

You turn your head to see him, chin wobbling slightly. How he’d crawl through hot coals and glass for you, seeing the beauty of what you see are flaws. He then grins and for a moment, it disturbs you how he could smile when you’re like this. 

“I wasn’t the best for my first time. In fact, I’m telling you–”

“Bucky, no, you don’t have to,” you interject with a stifled cough. You shoot to sit up and your husband follows, chuckling. 

“No, I will tell you I was shit at sex. Horrible. My first time—”

Your hands paw and pat at his mouth to silence him to no avail, your chorus of hiccups and sniffles turn into shy giggles. 

“I–couldn’t–”

You giggle a little louder this time. “Shush, Bucky! No-ho!” 

“Couldn’t even– find the cl—”

Your fingers are a heavenly pillar even as they hold his lips prisoner from speaking aloud. He smirks behind them and plants delicate kisses to them, enamoured by the faint smile on your face and the softness of your eyes. Seeing you cry and be tied to these human emotions makes a fire burn in his chest. Like for the longest time, he’s finally found someone who can make him feel whole. If only he could help you feel the same. In the make of those blue, puppy dog eyes, you crack and scoff out a snort. “New York’s infamous Mob Lord…” 

He beams from ear to ear at the unfinished implication, taking the time to fall so hard in love with you all over again. He leans his forehead against yours with a rumbled, “Mhm.”

Mascara smudged under the barrage of wet lashes and tears, your lips part with a shaky breath. “Bucky?”

He hums again, so you press on, throat suddenly tight. “Do you think you could make me feel that way?”

His response is instant, deep voice trailing along the bridge of your neck, much like it had done earlier as his arms circle the lower curve of your arse and hoist you until you balance atop his thighs, keeping his weight on his haunches. “Moya zvezda, that and more.” 

Your arms drape over the burly muscle of his shoulders, breath mingling with his in hot gusts laboured with anticipation, you hear him groan as you ever so slightly lower your hips against his and he pushes you that little higher on the pedestal he holds you on, it’s height greater than any earthly accomplishments men can dream of. 

It’s why you’re his star. 

I love this man.

With all my heart. 

His front presses fully into you, he works to weave one hand beneath the shower of your gown and feeling along the sheer stocking attached to your garter; he groans again, more feral sounding in his sensational marvel of how perfect you are. How blessed he is to be the one to touch you like this. To hold and have you so intimately. 

At his touch, your body erupts with a shudder, momentarily staggered by the electric push and pull and thriving buzz between your legs; though the stir of arousal isn’t foreign to you, it certainly is a stark contrast with his attentive action. 

His lips smother the embers of your trembling gasps with a kiss, passion tasting as a fine wine on his tongue. The kiss is paced slowly to attend to your cautious nature, an utter surety that he won’t make any move against you. You take no part in stopping him as he pushes aside the obstructive barrier of your panties. 

The way his fingers are gentle to stroke your core has you keening, teetering on a choked whine, his work deliberate in focusing on the pearl of your sensitive clit and the slickened beginnings of your folds. His hands that have sinned many times now amend themselves with the purity of worshipping every inch, exploring you with the intent to please. His thumb rolls in drawn circles, eliciting from you mewls and heated pants of air too heavy to stay in your lungs, cooing at your slow induction. 

“Atta girl.”

I’m alright. 

“You’re doing amazing.”

I’m safe. 

His two fingers run along your entrance, causing your spine to arch slightly and he smirks, pulling from the kiss. 

“You like that, doll? Yeah?” he asks smoothly, seeing you nod shakily with eyes half lidded. 

Your hands entangle themselves to the bedded roots of his hair, tender as you can to pull with each spark that has your stomach tying knots and your muscles tensing, his thumb begins to roll a little harder and faster. At hearing the apparition of a moan escape you, he applauds you with his encouragement despite the way your hand covers over your mouth to silence these noises.

“Fuck, please again, zvezda. Please.”

“I want to hear you.”

“Please… fuck you sound so beautiful…”

In your stun over his pleas, your hand lowers away and you continue to let your moans lull him, hips moving at a slow crawl against his fingers that press to your core and with a single look you let him know you’re willing. He fights the tantalising grip of your fingers to reach your lips as he pushes two fingers past your folds. Your gasp is a sharp sound to his ears, one of alert that he seeks to comfort you through the kiss.

The trajectory to pull your hips away stabilises and you begin to find that rhythm with each grind and thrust onto his fingers, the waves of pleasure coming from your clit has your stomach tightening. 

“B-Bucky…” you whisper and he swallows your words with a deep moan. Your walls clench around the intrusion of his fingers, moreso when he adds a third, curling them as if to beckon your body furthermore to his touch, to yield your fears and let him set alight that bloom inside your core and unto your bliss. 

You pant harder, “B–ngh… Bucky… th-there.”

“Right there?” He asks with a sultry grin. Your voice comes out in a strangled response. “M—mhm.”

The voice of your whine is his commandment. He installs a level of dedication at gently fucking you with his fingers right where you needed him – wanted him. That swell inside you grows and grows, furthering into a maelstrom that leaves your body shivering, unexpected of where this sudden burst will implode. 

“Good girl, you’re doing so well, doll,” he praises with a low timbre, groaning with a prided grin when you tug a little harder at his hair, your softer nature betraying to act out this darker side of yourself; this almost forbidden wanton. 

I feel…

Your hips move to become greedy and much to Bucky’s approval, feeling the swollen bulge of his cock straining against his boxers has you weak and some instinct to move against it drives you, a louder moan slipping past your lips. Bucky’s mouth leaves a heated trail of passionate nips and teasing flutters of kisses against your neck, spoiling you. 

You gasp and your hands fly to his shoulders to hold you at bay, the sudden shockwave a prelude to ride as your orgasm ascends upon you, he hears the feverish whimpers you make and he purrs, pumping his fingers, “That’s it, love, let go. C’mon, let me feel you cum for me. I’ve got you.”

The suppression of a scream hides in your chest, leaving only a choked sob to rack through you as you thrust and claim your first release, a hot flush of white behind your eyes blinds you, your muscles convulse in tensing and relaxing as you ride out your high. 

Your arms that wound around his shoulders squeeze a little tighter in your recovery, your breath timed to slow down after a few minutes but your body remains to quiver against him. The form of his aroused cock clear and unhidden has your core weeping for more.

“There you go, that’s it,” he coaxes softly with a smile while he eases a kiss to the corner of your lips, “how’re you feeling?” 

“G-good… really like… wow.” The words come out jumbled to you, as if you were still influenced by the strong wine at the reception, having made you reserve your consumption to a very limited amount. 

Bucky hums and withdraws his fingers, leaving you to mewl at the loss. The sight before you has you in some chokehold, a crimson heat flushes into your cheeks and down your neck, rendering your blood into fiery rivers beneath your skin, a sudden jerk picking up in your heartbeat as Bucky cleans the slick of your release from his fingers, the crystalised shade of blue dimming with a certain darkness as the taste of you rolls over his taste buds. 

He’s tasting me…

He moans with a thunderous growl. “Fuck… you taste amazing,” he grins, teeth gleaming with that cute, charming esteem. 

I do?

The warmth in your cheeks glows ten fold, bringing a sight for Bucky to admire. That cute girl who’s face becomes rosy with embarrassment. It’s like he could read your mind and the way he says your name has you at a loss of breath, drawing your attention back to the shine of his eyes. 

“You are exquisite…” 

Following in action as the continuation of his proclamation, his hand finds the spine of your dress and upon reaching the apex between your shoulders. He seeks to pause and his eyes seek out your permission, brows slight to bevel. “May I, Mrs. Barnes?”

The crescents of your palms brush the exterior of his stubble, every inch of your hands covered by the sensational prickling that leaves you like putty. How he stares at you with this amass of love and fondness that feels overwhelming at times. 

He’s just so… perfect.

The return of tears glasses over your eyes and you smile, brightly and toothy and nod, cupping his jaw in your hands before you press a softened kiss to his lips. You feel it in unison with him; it steals the breath from you both. 

“You may, Mr. Barnes.”

With your approval, he draws the zip undone. Anticipation lines your nerves like a trail of gunpowder ready to be set ablaze. He’s testing the waters, ensuring that this is what you want and when you give no indication of refusal, he glides the dress from your shoulders, revelling in the delicate sculpt of your body; the warm, ambient light hitting the surface creates a heavenly glow upon your skin. With the overhanging light above, it frames a golden halo around you as his sights steer upwards. 

Your gown drapes a sultry form over you, accentuating the mounds of your breasts pushed close together and the nakedness of your shoulders and neck. Bucky growls under a vice of hunger. But something lays in the glassy waver of his stare. 

“Please be real?”

His voice barely rises above a near shattered whisper. A man who fears losing you just much as you fear losing him. His voice pleads with you. Your lips part, jaw coming to drop slightly as your eyes widen.

Please be real for me?

“I-I am, Bucky. I’m real…”

The man before you exhales loudly, gasping for breath to keep himself drowning. “Good. Because I want this to be real.”

He doesn’t waste another moment. His mouth clashes against yours, hunger succumbing as he ravishes you with the heated intensity of his kiss, tongue running a pleaful line along your bottom lip. You part them and he awakens the stir of arousal flooding through your veins, tongues dancing in an artistic battle for dominance he undeniably wins. You moan a muffled song and he drinks every lyric of it, intoxicated by it. 

His hands are wild in their exploration, peeling your dress lower to reveal the laces and frills of your lingerie, not permitting you to shy away and hide from him this time, his hands feel every inch of it, mesmerised by the way it fits to you so beautifully that even the most talented of sculptures would struggle to capture your raw and enticing beauty to its complete and apex design. 

Your hands scour to claim the roots of his hair again. This time, you hold no restraint and he loves it. He loves the radiance of confidence you find in every following second. You are claiming what is rightfully yours as his wife. As his one love that he will kill and die for without question. Though time and mortal breath dares to intrude and part you, you find ways around the schemes, momentarily gasping for air within the clash of your lips, too far entranced to pull away. 

His hands glide up your sides until his thumbs are able to tease your stiffened nipples through the thin fabric, groaning at the noises you create from it, his touch sending those blissful tingles throughout your body. When time comes to see you both departed from your kiss, you each still remain to linger, tasting one another in the inch spared between you, chests heaving madly and brushing together. Dress pooled to a rolled belt over your waist, Bucky drinks in every detail of your body. 

Why does he look at me like that? 

His nose buries into you, nestling into the warmth and softness of your body as he utters phrases of praise to your skin, a trail of his devotion painted upon your skin with the invisible ink of his love and adoration for you. 

“You feel what you do to me?” he asks, strong hands guiding your hips down to roll in unison with his, the swollen mound of his erect cock still suffering in confinement has you hiccuping in your stun.

Though your voice is light, you nod as you answer. “Yes.”

“That’s how fucking hot you are,” he says with a deep, velvety drawl, his words slightly muffled by the way his mouth caresses you. “You have me so hard right now, fuck, the things I wanna do to you, doll.”

His confession has you blushing. 

He can’t possibly mean that…

He can’t help himself. He’s a man enslaved at your whim. Though you try to bring this madman to his senses with an embarrassed huff of his name, he only leans in to claim your lips with his, the melding of hunger brings you both into that feverish haze again. Tongues entangled with one another, Bucky’s hands paw and pluck the garments of your lingerie from your form, peeling away the details of floral patterns and lacy sheer to feel the heat of skin below, the way your muscles twitched under his touch. 

You moan between the kiss and allow your hands to feel the soft tresses of his hair between your fingers, carefully weaving through the darkened locks and nails scratching at the roots against his scalp, a rumbling purr escaping him. 

The rock of your hips move together, a desiring fire burning in your core to the point it borders on a painful ache between your legs. Your dress is discarded, left aside with your undressed garments to be reclaimed at a later time. He lays you on your back, your head nested atop the plush cushion of the pillows, bodies flush together without leaving so much as a morsel of space apart. 

Entrapped by his lustful kiss, you thrust and grind your heated sex against him with shocking eager, a whine is tugged from your throat, unsure.

Bucky is quick to assure you of your arousal, that its intoxication is a vice wanted. He uses one arm to support his weight above, caging you, as his other takes hold of your thigh and gropes at it fervently while somewhere in the mixture haze his boxers are tossed aside. His swollen tip oozes with glistening, droplet streams, his size heavy and long that has a gasp escaping you. 

W–will he fit?

Such worrisome thoughts are snuffed out like speckled embers as he deepens the kiss, tongues gliding together and moans and limbs entangle. His tip brushes over the sensitive spot of your clit and your hips take languid actions against his practised thrusts. 

“It’s going to hurt at first,” he mutters across the skin of your jaw, “but it won’t for long. I’m right here, moya zvezda, I promise.”

A crystalline glint appears on the waterline of your eyes, a tender smile on your lips as your lips connect with a chaste kiss. 

“I’m ready, Bucky…”

His blue eyes take the time to carefully read your expression. For a man so immersed in being so gentle and caring with you, you have come to know that with the very same hands he caresses you with – he has broken jaws, bloodied and bruised noses and strangled the very life of more than one person. He can tell when a man is lying just by looking into his eyes. 

He sees you’re telling the truth. That you want this with him. You want him. Cock nudging at your folds, you push your legs a little wider to better accommodate his size after hearing him chuckle at the crimson blush creeping into your face, flustered at the thought of his entire cock sheathing inside you. 

“Gonna fit all of me, my sexy little wife?” he’d teased with a wink. 

His eyes retain their focus with yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your cunt, meeting the slight of resistance and surged forward, a sigh heavily laced on his breath that has his head bowing to press his forehead to yours, eyes scrunched tightly. 

A hitched note on your throat is silenced, cut out with a high pitched whine as he sinks deeper and deeper, breaching past the wall of your hymen. Your nails mark their bite into his shoulders and down his back with angry red scars, tracing over the blackened inks already imprinted there. 

Your walls constrict around the intrusion of him with a searing pierce that brings your tears to streak down your temples, chin slightly trembling, you feel Bucky’s lips hover over yours. 

“O-ow,” you mewl, “It hurts…”

“I’ve got you, zvezda, I’m here.”

Your chest feels tight, suffocated, but his words comfort you. You cling to him tighter, thighs trembling at his sides and you feel his hand resume its place there, gentle to knead and rub soothing circles as he coaxes you through the blight of your pain. 

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he whispers to your lips, the crinkle of a smile forming on his features. Just as quickly as it had come, the pain subsides and you feel so full at the point where your bodies meet, you finally nod for him to continue. 

He goes slowly. 

He sets a rhythm paced to ease you into the forcing motion of his cock gliding through your hot, velvety walls that clamp and shudder with each movement he makes. Your gasps turn to softly sung moans as you begin to grind your hips to meet his and he smiles down at you. “There you go, love. That’s it, you’re taking me so well.” 

“This body… so perfect, so beautiful… I love it, I love you.”

Another moan escapes you. He heaves a deep breath with every thrust, still focusing hard to keep this steadiness, until you moan for him, 

“Bucky… please, I-I need…”

“What do you need, love? Tell me.”

“I– need more– please.”

He groans, the thought of ruthlessly fucking you with abandon crosses his mind in flashes, the way you’d look spread out while being pummeled by his cock that ruts into your pretty pussy until you’re stuffed full of his cum that it overspills as a creamy ring around his girthy base. 

To fuck you the way of a mafia lord. 

“You want that, sugar?” he asks, his voice sudden to drop lower into a silken, deepened purr with a darkened smirk. “You want to be fucked the way a mafia queen should be? H–hmph, you want it harder? Faster?”

You choke on the release of your words, sounding breathless, “Y-yes!”

Your walls clench tight around him, a series of moans spilling from your parted lips as he then picks up his pace, the incentive of your permission driving him to thrust harder, his hand fists and squeezes the flesh of your thigh within his grasp, holding you fast to him as he strikes deeply into your pussy. His muscles bend, curve and tense and your hands greedily explore every single portion of him, granting you this chance to be upheld by the prison of your thoughts that may hold you back later.

You howl, whine and cry – all for more, for him to keep going, to not stop. His body arches over yours, hands now ahold of you at the hips he uses the advantage of his strength and position to forcefully piston himself back and forth, back and forth until you’re writhing beneath him  Your hands attach themselves to the veiny reins of his wrists, your hips arched up until your lower half is lifted for his leisure to fuck into that spot that has you seeing an galaxy of stars.

“Bucky– Bucky, oh Bucky!” you cry out. 

“Fuck— yeah baby, fuck you sound beautiful, shit— baby, keep screaming my name, I want to hear you.” Each word is intensely laced with an exerted breath or guttural groan. “Fucking hell, zvezda, you look fucking amazing like that—” 

“You’re taking my cock so well.”

“I’m never getting over the sight of this.”

His eyes burn with lust at the sight of your breasts bouncing without restraint, the shudder of your body with each clash of your thrusts, how your face contorts so beautifully with pleasure and the holstered grip of your legs hooking around his waist repeatedly only to falter each time after several pumps, only kept upright by his hold. A knot coils inside you, a tidal wave of pleasure coursing through your veins that sets your nerves aflame and your vocal cords to strain with every sound you make. The more and more he slams his cock into you, your neck is forced to arch back against the pillows with a pleasured shriek. 

You call out to him, “Bucky, I— I’m gonna… ah!” 

“Cum for me, doll, I wanna feel how tight your pretty pussy is around me.” Your back arches further as his tip continues to hit that spot and the sensational toying of his thumb rolls on your clit, eliciting a flourish of sparks to ignite until you’re suddenly overcome with a flush of white, that euphoric hit crashing over you while heat pours into every inch of your skin with your eyes rolling back.

You chant his name like a sacred prayer, the meaning of your vows imbued within your slurred, intoxicated mantra. He pants, hot and heavy in your ear,

“Shit, shit— fuuuck, baby— ‘mgonna cum, gonna cum for you. I want my seed in you, I want it in you so bad.”

His thrusts increase, the sound of skin slapping skin is erotically loud. You don’t want it to stop. You don’t want him to stop and so you beg him to keep going. 

You continue to whine, low and cooing, walls stretching and clenching around him, milking him of his release that sweeps over him with a long, baritone and throaty moan. His head presses into the crook of your neck to suck at the skin of your collarbone, marking you with dark bruises of his love and possession as he paints your pussy with his seed. The air is faintly filled by the sound of oozing slick of your combined orgasms that leak and drip around his still thrusting cock.

The erratic pace in which his rhythm held eventually wanes, instead he moves to a slow-crawling grind to ease you off your combined highs. His chest rises and falls and you allow your eyes to admire his form above you, A balance of skin and ink layered in a thin coating of sweat, as is your own, the muscles of his body rippling with each motion he makes. 

His hands release from your hips after he’s lowered you back down to the bed, allowing your body to succumb to the exhaustion undoubtedly taking hold of you. Your gaze meets his own, the colour of them haloed by the shine of tears and his heart yearns for you. 

He fears he’s done something wrong and his hands quickly raise to caress your face, thumbs stroke over your cheeks. 

“Moya zvezda, are you—”

“I’m…” you trail off, blinking rapidly to see him through the watery veil and you grin up at him and nod. He’s relieved to see that smile, coming to mirror it himself. 

She’s okay. My girl’s okay.

You reach your hand up, the warmth of your palm contrasted by the cool adornment of your ring. Bucky leans his face into your touch. “You stayed… you didn’t—” Though your words fail you, Bucky sees what you mean to say in your eyes. 

“Of course. You’re everything I ever wanted…” Your brows furrow, touched by the sincerity in his words. Before you is a man whose heart is held in your very hands. And his heart is one you wish to cherish, hold dear and never break. To think you almost bargained him off to another woman— 

“Have me again tonight, zvezda. Have me any other night. I promise, I will be there every time, every moment.”

He doesn’t want a mistress. He wants me. 

Those voices are gone, replaced by newer, kinder ones.

You’re perfect. 

You’re beautiful. 

I’m not scared anymore. Not with him. 

You now realise that intimacy was never the threat. The voices in your head were. 

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Did you want some tissues?

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos @mrsnikstan @floralwsloki @mcira @schneeflocky @greatenthusiasttidalwave

[wonderlandnet]

-> NEW ADDITION: "Guns & Kisses" by Kat

Guns & Kisses

Pairing — KimHongjoongxafab!Reader

Summary — Hongjoong finds out that his goons have let you out of their sight... there are consequences...

Genre — angst, hints of fluff, MafiaAU

Warnings — guns, death, blood, knifes, kisses, Wooyoung getting in trouble lmao

Word Count — 1.9k

Rating — nc-17

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

"So what you're  telling me, is that you lost my wife?" Hongjoong questioned the 2 trembling men standing in front of his desk. His eyebrow was slightly raised and although he sounded calm, both henchmen knew that just one wrong move wouldn't just end their career, but their lives too.

It was a well known fact that Kim Hongjoong, leader of ATEEZ and Seoul's most feared drug cartel, only had one soft spot. And that was you.

You, a woman who couldn't be more different then him if you tried! Who loved animals, drank juice packs just because you could, or loved to try putting his hair in little braids and hair clips!

And him. Carrying a gun, knows 100 ways to kill you with a spoon, loves the taste of blood on his lips, cartel boss Kim Hongjoong!

To say you and him were completely different would not be a lie in anyway, shape or form. It was a mystery to everyone but his closest circle of 7 how you had even met and an even bigger one how you fell in love with each other. Those 7 who he trusted blindly when it came to your safety however, were busy dealing with things you didn't want any part in.

Of course you knew what was happening behind closed doors. You weren't a fool even if most thought you were. It was quite the contrary actually! You knew exactly what was going on and you also weren't a damsel in distress either. You knew how to fight, how to shoot and you could be just as deadly as the man who called you his wife.

No, you weren't married but what could you say? Hongjoong was a possessive little shit...

Byung-ho, the smaller of the two swallowed harshly, hoping that Dong-chul would come to his aid but nothing. "Sir we are very sorry but-“

"You're not answering my question Byung-ho-ssi... Where. Is my wife?" the unimpressed man hissed.

Hongjoong didn't have the patience for excuses, much less when it came to you.

Seonghwa, his right hand and your closest friend out of the little circle you called family, was sitting close by, sipping at a glass filled with whiskey and enjoyed the squirming of the two men cowering away from the deadly stare his leader gave them.

"Dong-chul-ssi!" The man flinched harshly at being called out of a sudden. "Y-yes?"

"Do you want to tell me how you managed to lose her?" His finger trailed down the sharp blade of the knife placed on the wooden surface, grabbing the hilt to make a show out of it to display his power. The poor man shook like a leaf and prayed to god that he came out of this alive. His chances however, were pretty slim.

"Well? Don't you have anything to say?"

Both stayed silent.

"How unfortunate..." He stood up, grabbed his gun from the holster attached to his belt and shot them clean between the eyes. A long and suffering sigh left his mouth as he stared at the dead body’s staining his carpet.

"You couldn't have waited to do this outside? It'll take ages to wash that out!" Seonghwa complained at the sight.

"Nobody said that you're the one who has to try and do that!"

Hongjoong walked around his desk, stepped over the body’s with a slight grimace, put the gun back into the holster and whipped his hands on his fancy dress pants before he made his way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Seonghwa asked, eyebrow raised and taking another sip. The smaller man stopped shortly, turning his head to look at his right hand with sharp smile. "Getting my wife back!"

 

Wooyoung, their very own hacker and analyst, was leaning back in his gamer chair, feet propped up on his work desk and playing a game on his phone. His work for the day was done and originally was waiting for San and Yeosang, resident assassin and doctor and his closest friends! What was not on his agenda for the night, was the boss storming into his little lair at almost 11 pm!

"Hyung what-?" the man stammered, almost falling out of his chair.

"Track y/n’s phone! Now!" Hongjoong barked at him. Wooyoung raised his eyebrow, questioning his leaders mind for a moment but did as he was told. "And are you gonna tell me why I have to stalk the lady boss?"

"No."

The hacker stopped typing on his computer to look at the other. "Hyuuung! She's going to  shoot me if she finds out I snooped!"

"And I will shoot you if you don't, so find her before I become impatient."

Lower lip pushed forward and grumbling under his breath, Wooyoung continued. Fingers flying over the keyboard skillfully. He knew that making the leader wait could end deadly for someone who wasn’t as well versed in the mans mannerisms as he and the other core members were. And even he had once or twice been forced to ice a blue eye of his own!

Hongjoong rounded the table and came to stand behind the other man, eyes flitting over the screen and crossing his arms over his chest. Index finger tapping against his upper arm.

For a stranger he looked pissed to the nines. To Wooyoung, he just seemed worried. Anxiety thrumming underneath his skin, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a straight line.

“Phone’s shut off but the last signal was somewhere in Secho-gu. I can try-“ he started, searching for your boyfriends eyes and recognizing the darkening expression as pure fury. "Hyung?"

Hongjoong cracked his knuckles loudly. "There is no need. I know where she is!" He growled, already on his way out the dark room and effectively leaving the hacker behind. He looked at the little black cat plushie staring at him. "Aaand it's just us again Wooyonyang-ie... I really hope hyung's gonna kick some ass tonight..."

 

Hongjoong knew instantly where you were when Wooyoung had mentioned the area your phone had last been pinged. It was where a new gang had their hideout. A small one admittedly, but a pest to his business either way. In all honesty, Hongjoong couldn't even remember what they were called, but he knew where they were. And he knew that people were going to die soon.

The gang may have felt save with their low number in members, probably thinking that big gangs like Ateez didn't have them on their radar. They were wrong.

Just because, they had yet to see reason to shatter their little group, it didn't mean that they didn't know. And now they had one, or rather HE had one.

Walking right past Yunho and Mingi, Negotiator and Sniper of the team, who just came back from a Business meeting with SKZ, he got into his Mercedes and drove of. Leaving the two confused men behind without a word.

 The Mob boss drove fast, complete ignoring any speeding limits to get to his destination knowing that no police officer would dare stop his car without risking his job. And so he arrived 20 minutes later at a small office building with barely any security. Hongjoong stopped the car and reloaded his gun, making sure that the safety was off before he got out and made quick process with the 3 guards at the entrance.

They were dead before their body's could hit the floor, bullet holes right over their hearts and blood splattered over his expensive suit. A slightly crazed out smile found it's way onto his face when he heard more men running down the hallway to find out where the gun shots had come from.

4 more came rounding the corner and hit the ground just seconds later. It was clear that this gang did not have much experience at all.

What followed was silence.

Hongjoong listened closely if there were more on the way but nothing. It was almost disappointing if he was honest.

Most offices were empty and unused and the once who weren't didn't have enough time to react much.

What he found however once he kicked down the door to a giant mess hall, was expected and unexpected all at once. He had expected you do be an absolute menace to the kidnappers to the point they might have knock you out to get some piece and quiet, maybe one or two having a black eye definitely not you sitting cross-legged a top a cafeteria table while looking bored to the nines as you picked on your finger nails. Around you the red fluid that stained his suit already, was already starting to dry as the 3 men do your feed were stabbed repeatedly into the chest. The knife you had used laying on your left side while the gun you had taken from one of the body's on your right.

Your head snapped up at the loud bang the door made as it crashed against the wall. Gun now pointed at his head before you recognized his face.

"What took you so long?" you grinned at his shell shocked form.

"Hello to you too, my love. I see you have everything handled." Hongjoong gestured to the mess around you as he came over. Gun back in it's holster.

You took the offered hand to help you of the table and he immediately began scanning your body for injuries. There was a bruise forming on your cheek, a few scratches along your arms and the obvious irritated red markings of cable ties around your wrist but other then that you seemed fine.

"Are you-"

"Don't worry, I'm fine baby." You reassured him with a soft press of your lips to his. Hands cupping his face gently as he inhaled your scent and a sense of calmness washed over him now that he knew you were save again.

"Let's get out of here then so Sang-ah can take care of those bruises for you."

Looking back at the chaos around you, Hongjoong raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at you. You knew that he wanted to know what exactly had happened, but having been tied up and alone with those idiots that were oh so easy to fool you shrugged your shoulders.

"Care to explain how this happened, huh?" he questioned as he leaned his forehead against your own.

"Do you really want to know that?" you questioned playfully which earned you an amused shake of his head. No, all he really wanted was to get you back into the safety of their home. Hongjoong could wait, knowing that once he had you back inside your shared bed, you would tell him either way.

"Then take my home. I'm tired of this depressing sight either way.”

In the car you buckled up and leaned your head against the back rest. A tired sigh escaping your lips and Hongjoong couldn't help but admire the serene beauty you radiated in that moment.

"I'm glad you're ok." He whispered into the silence of the vehicle and you turned your head to look at him. Hand reaching over the console to hold his.

"Thank you for coming for me."

"Always."

 Bonus

When Wooyoung woke up 2 days after Hongjoong had gotten back with you, he had already forgotten about the incident. The night before had been spend with Mingi and Yunho to see who could handle more alcohol. Safe to say that it wasn't him. So no, that morning he did not have the brain capacity for much other then concentrating on not to throw up.

His heart nearly stopped beating once he saw you sitting on his chair. Spinning around like some kind of evil genius.

"Oh my god, y/n! Why?" he gasped with one hand thrown over his chest.

You tilted your head to the side.

"So you tracked my phone? Again?"

Oh shit.

[jimxnslight]

Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

<< masterlist || next part >>

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook. 

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises. 

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month. 

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence. 

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again. 

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence. 

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously. 

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again. 

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?” 

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him. 

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer. 

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery. 

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now. 

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love. 

Only power. 

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white. 

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands. 

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle. 

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did. 

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too. 

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin. 

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head. 

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone. 

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him. 

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you. 

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month. 

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof. 

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there. 

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words. 

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be. 

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention. 

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you. 

So he tried not to be unsettled. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground. 

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

-

-

-

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance. 

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him. 

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely. 

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax. 

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat. 

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids. 

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly. 

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded. 

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought. 

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly. 

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on. 

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. 

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding. 

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons. 

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two. 

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them. 

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information. 

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant. 

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful. 

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open. 

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead. 

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space. 

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you. 

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance. 

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well. 

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him. 

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her. 

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now. 

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed. 

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights. 

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee. 

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze. 

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other. 

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything. 

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well. 

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief. 

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne. 

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous. 

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak. 

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster. 

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side. 

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands. 

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later. 

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway. 

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment. 

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again. 

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you. 

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him. 

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer. 

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look. 

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud. 

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes. 

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink. 

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions. 

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold. 

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form. 

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest. 

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

 “P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air. 

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke. 

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout. 

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now. 

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression. 

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation. 

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more. 

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous. 

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability. 

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow. 

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it. 

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment. 

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly. 

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump. 

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone. 

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak. 

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him. 

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew. 

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick. 

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation. 

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare. 

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response. 

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony. 

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing. 

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze. 

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness. 

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce. 

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.  

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!