#in like a year’s time with twice the amount of debt or whatever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hueseok · 3 years ago

Text

mio angelo.

it’s no secret to the whole nation how powerful the jeon family was. the efforts of the highly respected don jungsoo was the reason why the name of their clan continues to be a name that people thought greatly of and sometimes even feared. despite your father working alongside with the don, you never truly understood what the family possessed to earn them such acclaim; that is until you got closer to one of his grandsons, jeon jeongguk, that you caught a glimpse of how much power they truly seized as you see it first hand and become a part of it yourself.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

word count: 33.3k (🤠; use the browser when reading to avoid the app from crashing !)

rating: 18+

» related drabble/s: bonus scene #1; bonus scene #2

━ INTRO.

Your father has always been in debt with the Jeon Family; most specifically to their head, Don Jungsoo.

When you grew up and finally had the right amount of curiosity to ask why, Inhwan only smiled and said that the Don helped him in developing the winery—the winery that today stands as one of the most sought out wine companies in the country, slowly expanding to neighboring nations and even across other continents. He said that because of the Don’s generosity with assisting him in starting the business, taking care of matters that involved papers and endorsements and the easy transportation of goods to various well-known distributors, he was able to build a better future for your mother in about five years’ time, right before they were married and naturally, right before you were even born.

He was able to buy a massive house. He was able to raise you in a very comfortable environment, making sure that you grew up to be greatly taken care of; that you never once felt abandoned or alone, that you wouldn’t have to think twice in asking for something in whatever it is that you wanted and needed. Eventually, he was able to send you off to prestigious schools throughout your studies, even enrolled you to some classes that could develop a fundamental hobby such as drawing and playing the violin, taking any kind of measure without hesitation as long as it will assure him that he has truly done everything he can to lead you to a great future.

When you asked why Don Jungsoo offered so much to him despite the both of them not being blood related, he responded by saying “Your grandpa and him go way back. He always says that if it weren’t for your grandpa, he wouldn’t have found the success he has today.”

Hearing him say that, you were eager to meet Don Jungsoo, mostly because you never had the chance to meet your grandfather who passed away just months before you were brought to the world. At the age of twelve years old, while getting home from school that day, you were granted that opportunity as you arrived at the villa and saw an elderly man conversing with your dad in the common room, the both of them in the middle of a warm handshake, kind of like a goodbye.

That’s when you officially first met him, the Godfather, as Inhwan introduced you, promptly apologizing to Don Jungsoo for only doing so at that instance. Don Jungsoo harbored no hard feelings of course, knowing that it was nothing personal and was merely just a loss of opportunity because of the winery that Inhwan had to constantly oversee and the errands he had to do for the Family. Besides, Don Jungsoo already had the chance to meet you at your baptism and at a birthday of one of his grandsons that Inhwan and his wife were invited to, but you were very young back then to even remember it yourself.

As your eyes met that day, Don Jungsoo regarded you with delight almost immediately, fondly commenting that he thought you definitely inherited certain facial features from the father side of the family and that you have grown from a cute baby to a wonderful little girl. You smiled as he did, mumbling a shy thank you before instinctively hiding behind Inhwan’s waist, a gesture that Don Jungsoo chuckled at. It didn’t take long before you politely said goodbye when he once again concluded his meeting with your father because of the short interruption, the two men he brought along with him expressing their farewells to Inhwan too with a squeeze on Inhwan’s shoulder and also a pat on the back.

Even if that day was so long ago and was only a fragment of your childhood memories, you can always still remember that moment as if it just happened not that long ago. That day was indeed remarkable for you, since there stood the man that your dad has been talking about with so much honor and respect; the man that apparently raised your family from the ashes, the man who gave your father the chance to redeem himself, that it shouldn’t be questioned why Inhwan would treat Don Jungsoo in such a way.

You didn’t need a grown-up’s mind to realize that Don Jungsoo was an influential man. He showed it in his speech, his luxurious suit, and the people he seemed to have posing as his guard. He gave off an air of utmost authority, like there was no mistaking that he was a force you didn’t want to be reckoned with, a figure that people didn’t just respect, but also feared—and for most of your life, you only thought that it was because he was filthy and crazy rich. After all, rich people had all the means in the universe that could grant them the power to rule the entire world.

In Don Jungsoo’s case, his clan, the Jeon Family or more publicly known as JSG Group, was known to be the owner of a power company that chose renewable energy as its priority, the said establishment considered as the best across the state and among its competitors. Aside from the financial gain they already acquired with their principal enterprise, they have bought other businesses that stem from different fields—food and restaurant, motor vehicles, and even health care institutions.

They also had a lot of significant contacts, all who were as filthy and crazy rich as they were—were even secured when it came to legal matters because of the people they knew that were distinguished law practitioners; moreover, they had many friends that were involved notably in politics. It was those reasons why Don Jungsoo was named as one of the most powerful men and richest men in Seoul and has contributed so much with the immense accomplishment of your father’s winery as well. From your knowledge, JSG Group was a major shareholder of the wine company and has appointed Inhwan as the CEO to supervise its growing business.

Amidst all of that though, you shouldn’t have been naive enough to think that the winery’s said triumph was only made possible because of the Don’s well-known colossal wealth. You shouldn’t have been too dependent on the explanation that it was because Don Jungsoo was just inherently successful for everything to just go the way he wanted—for everything to fall into place in just a snap of his fingers.

It was only when you got particularly closer to one of his grandsons, Jeon Jeongguk, that you got a glimpse of what the Family precisely ran that made them so acclaimed and worshiped. It was only then did you understand and get to know what goes on behind the scenes that brought the Jeon Family such eminence, and whether your knowledge of it was for the better or for the worst, you didn’t really know.

━ CHAPTER I.

You and Jeongguk have been well acquainted since your youth. You knew him as the Don’s grandchild, the youngest in the eight that he had, and is said to be even affectionately referred to as Don Jungso’s ‘golden boy’ for he truly could do no wrong in his grandfather’s eyes.

To the Don, Jeongguk was shaped and made to be part of the business from the second he was born. Don Jungsoo said this with utmost confidence and pride in every chance he got for Jeongguk held all the qualities that he was expecting to come from an adequate head of their organization in the future. Jeongguk grew up to be a man who honored the Family’s good morals; a man who knew of loyalty, who valued true brotherhood; a man who knew when to use his brain or wield his fist; a man who you could sit down and reason with with the aim of diplomacy; a man who was adept in getting in the good sides of people, even the enemies, with his sweet tongue.

In Don Jungsoo’s three sons, there were always two or three qualities that were missing in his personal criteria for him to applaud them like he applauded his golden boy. His eldest son, Jeongguk’s father, thought too much, hesitated a lot in his choices, always wanted the majority to decide on something before he decided himself; the middle child, has never been interested in taking part of the business and most of the time remained distant with the Family in general, often treating it as nonexistent when got together with the rest of them on holidays and such; and as for the youngest, he was seen as too much of a coward to be relied on in any important mission by the Don, but he was at least dedicated in helping out in the best way he could to not be appreciated still..

As for the Don’s grandchildren, he had six girls and two boys. Since it was never an option by the Don to begin with to inflict the problems of the Family business to any of its women, his six granddaughters were ruled out automatically in his head and he only spoiled them of gifts and of love as his means to let them have a taste of what the business provided. In regards to his grandson aside from Jeongguk, who came from the middle child, the boy was much like his father who didn’t want anything to do with their source of outcome for him to be taken into mind. The Don respected the decision of his middle child and didn’t force him or his son to embrace their living, though he at least expected that they remain close to the family when it came to personal matters.

Jeongguk entered the business at the early age of 15 years old. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, for it was too young and too soon, but it was a time where there was prominent tension between the Four Families of Seoul that Jeongguk’s father convinced himself that would feel more at peace with if he knew that his son at least knew how to use a gun. Of course, the Don wasn’t consented first before Jeongguk was taught to defend himself and Don Jungsoo disapproved of Hanseo’s decision, as he always did, however, there was nothing even he could do to reverse what has already been and instead of acting like things were the way they were, in a poor attempt to save whatever innocence that is still left on the boy’s mind, he permitted Jeongguk to be introduced to their ways and to the Mafia.

Just a year after Jeongguk was brought in, he “made his bones” by being a member of Inhwan’s regime and partaking in an operation that had something to do with confronting a businessman to cave in to what the Don offered. The man was supposed to pick sides, to choose between serving the Jeon Family like he has been for half of his life or the Lee Family who came into the picture and threatened to do expeditions for them, and when the businessman declared that he was now loyal to the latter and detested his association to the Jeon clan, Inhwan permitted Jeongguk to do the honors of assassinating the traitor a few days later, thus, officially acknowledging him as a made man.

For the years that followed, Jeongguk became Inhwan’s right-hand man. It was the Don’s intention to place Jeongguk under Inhwan’s faction rather than Hanseo, for he thought that having Hanseo show his own son the ropes of the business was a little unhealthy given the man’s known wariness for the safety of his only child. So, Jeongguk became closer with Inhwan instead when it came to anything related to the business; the Caporegime he was serving trained him to be better and to be sharper in what he did.

“Jeongguk, you’ve met my daughter before, right? ____?” Inhwan said as he welcomed the grandson of the Don to his home, walking with him to his office supposedly but before they could get to the room, they had to pass through the kitchen where you were preparing yourself a meal.

Jeongguk, now 23 at that time, glanced at you and was able to instantly discern your familiar face. You’ve been a guest at some parties that his family has held in the past, he has heard your name escape past people’s lips multiple times before in casual conversations, but this was perhaps the first time that the both of you were exchanging introductions. He only knew you as Inhwan’s daughter who the Caporegime always mentioned in great esteem for being the top student of your university’s honor list; the only daughter who Inhwan cherished after his wife passed on ten years ago and who typically lived in the campus dormitory since she attended college, hence why he never had the chance to see you so close before (aside from the fact that he has studied overseas for the last four years, of course).

You made eye contact and the second you two did, Jeongguk approached you in courtesy, extending out a hand. “It’s nice to formally meet you.”

You looked at your father then back at Jeongguk, wiping your hand on the towel by the counter and finally shaking his hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”

When Inhwan and Jeongguk arrived at the office, it was obvious that you were still in the young boy’s mind. He never said anything about you again throughout the affairs he had to discuss with Inhwan though, as he thought of it as disrespectful to be straightforward with his attraction towards you to your father, but it was from that day forward that he began visiting your household frequently, even the dormitory you stayed at during weekdays, just to get to know you better, and let you get to know him more too. He was definitely interested in being more than friends, but he wanted things to run naturally and not come out as forced for him to be truly blunt about his feelings.

“I’ve been hearing that you’ve been spending a lot of time with Inhwan’s daughter these past weeks,” Hanseo, Jeongguk’s father, opened up for dinner one night. “You like the girl?”

“Would he spend the majority of his time with her if he didn’t?” His mother, Yeonjin, retorted.

Hanseo remained serious as he spoke again. “If your intentions aren’t good with her, you should drop it, Guk. She’s the daughter of one of our close family friends. It’s not good to go behind Inhwan’s back and steal his child away. If what you’re only looking for is one good night, don’t try finding it with ____.”

Jeongguk laid down his spoon gently. He was slightly offended to be viewed in that kind of light by his Pop, but he was a young man after all, and young men certainly didn’t go for serious relationships these days. “Should I ask Inhwan first before I pursue anything serious with ____ then?”

His parents shared a look; Hanseo snorted even in amazement while Yeonjin remained smiling.

“Are your intentions good with ____?” Hanseo repeated.

“I like her,” Jeongguk said. “She’s interesting, and she’s kind, and she’s beautiful, and most importantly, she gets me. We can talk for hours and I wouldn’t know because time doesn’t move as fast when I’m with her.”

Hanseo continued staring at him, analyzing him, trying to guess if he was being honest with what he just said. After what seemed like a minute of scrutinizing Jeongguk, he shrugged as if it was suddenly not a big deal. “I’ll talk to Inhwan, get him to agree in setting you up with his daughter,” Hanseo assured him.

“I can do that myself. I’ll talk to Inhwan.”

“You want to talk to Inhwan yourself?”

“Yes. I want to assure him that I’m serious with what I want with ____.”

“In that degree, we might as well just arrange the both of you two wed.”

“No, no,” Jeongguk shook his head immediately, “I don’t want it to be forced. I don’t want to rush things. I just want to know that it’s okay and my personal interests won’t affect the Family.”

The following day, Hanseo still talked to Inhwan about Jeongguk’s attraction to you as a heads up. Inhwan just chuckled, admittedly fond with Jeongguk to think of it as a bad idea, nodded, and said that as long as Jeongguk won’t do anything that would harm you or disrespect you on purpose, then he was going to be on board with whatever relationship Jeongguk was going to have with indeed his only daughter; his permission was the least of what he could give considering that Jeongguk was the Godfather’s grandson. Besides, he really wasn’t a stranger to Jeongguk at this point; he practically raised him along with the others with Inhwan’s significant role in the Family business to perceive him as not a good fit for you.

On the Friday of that very week, Jeongguk went to the campus grounds of your university. He waited outside the building where he knew you would be taking your last class, leaning against the hood of his lavish Maranello with his arms crossed and his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Passersby ogled at him; murmured about his vehicle, some even took sneaky snapshots to send to their friends about how there was such a car in the premises. Even Jeongguk himself was well talked about by the students, with his right arm covered with elegant yet intimidating tattoos, the striking manner in which he stood and leaned there, and the fact that he was wearing this orangish yellow short-sleeved Fendi button down and was pulling it off despite how its color and style contradicted to the dangerous aura he was giving.

When you got out of the building, still conversing with a classmate, it took you a few more seconds to notice him; if it weren’t for a distant voice of another classmate saying how there was a ‘literal world treasure’ before his eyes, you wouldn’t have curiously looked forward and saw Jeongguk there, already staring at you, head tilted to the side while he indulged himself in the beauty of your appearance. As you regarded his presence with a smile, he lifted his sunglasses, pushing it past his forehead and over his hair, and flashed a smirk at you.

“Who’s that hot piece of ass?” Your friend, with her jaw slightly hanging down, blatantly asked. “Do you know him?”

“He’s a family friend.”

“A family friend?”

“A good family friend.” You grinned all knowingly. “I’ll see you next week.”

You skipped down the stairs without giving your friend a chance to interrogate you further and stopped right in front of Jeongguk who met you halfway. He had a handsome grin on his face and upon your arrival, automatically reached out to get your bag for you, a gesture that you stopped from happening by swaying your tote bag and books to the other side of where he was reaching for.

“Are you just going to act like you coming here is a thing we planned?” you asked with a chuckle.

The grin hasn’t left his mouth, only transforming into a playful one. “Sorry. I’ve always been under the impression that on one of these days, you want me to whisk you away before you get home and take you somewhere far.”

“Ah, of course, you have read my mind and obtained one of my deepest desires. Though I’m assuming this far place we’re pertaining to is the beach? What’s with this polo?” You couldn’t help but tease, even touching the hem to straighten it for a second.

Jeongguk remained looking at you, shamelessly ignoring your teasing. “Pop already talked with your Dad. And I already talked with him too.”

“Talked about what?” You were still examining the print of his top.

“About us.”

That had you flickering your gaze up to meet his, your delight not being concealed as the ends of your lips twitched. “What about us?”

Jeongguk rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t pretend that you don’t know what this thing is between us.”

“I’m not following, Guk.” The mischief in your gaze said otherwise and he chuckled, shaking his head, successfully getting your belongings this time when he reached for it. “What is this thing between us? All I know is that we’re great family friends and that—”

“Go out with me,” he cut you off, not letting you go longer with your act, “go out with me and let me show you a good time. More than great family friends tonight. What do you say?”

“Tonight?” You at least looked pleased and willing. “I might have to ask my father first.”

“I told you, I already asked him.”

“Even with what you want to do tonight?”

“All I want to do tonight is to take you out on a date. Just putting it out there just so we’re clear.”

You chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, crystal clear.”

“All I need is your yes, ____,” he added. “Won’t you give me that yes?”

He knew he was going to get what he wanted either way in how you smiled, how your cheeks blushed, and how you were abruptly getting fidgety, a thing you did that he noticed would only showcase itself whenever you were giddy or nervous. Nonetheless, the rush of serotonin didn’t stop you from teasing him again when you gave your answer. “I would, but I’m not exactly dressed in an attire that matches yours. I mean, I don’t even know if I have something that’s as flashy as that in my closet.”

“You’re really amused with what I’m wearing, aren’t you?”

“I just have never seen you in anything other than black or any other dark color.” You snorted. “But I like it. You look good. Very suave, still.”

“You really think that?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. You look very handsome.”

Jeongguk had noticed too that you were not one to shy away from speaking your thoughts out. It was another trait he liked about you. “Alright, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, come on—” he laughed when you did— “get in the car and I’ll drive you home first so that you can change.”

You nodded, eagerly heading to the passenger’s side, Jeongguk doing the same. “Where will you take me after that?”

“To the beach. Like you said.”

You laughed louder at that. “Sounds amazing.”

He opened the door for you and pushed it closed once you were settled inside.

Jeongguk did take you to the beach that afternoon. It was counted as your first date. You laid in the sand with him, the both of you talking about your day and other things that came to mind. You ate some cheap good food at the near convenience store, an occurrence that Jeongguk almost stopped from happening since he wanted to take you somewhere nicer for dinner, but you refused and insisted that you didn’t want anything heavy or expensive for that matter; you just wanted to be with him and act like teenage couples that couldn’t get rid of the too-happy smiles on their faces while they spent the day with their lover. Of course, you didn’t tell him the last part verbally, didn’t tell him directly yet that you wanted him to see you as a lover, but Jeongguk got the message and exactly went along with what you secretly hoped for.

By the time the sun was nowhere to be seen and the night had fallen, he told you that you two should probably get going home. The ride back was approximately 30 minutes long and he didn’t want to abuse the trust that Inhwan granted him by keeping you up too late and until the last minute for the first date. Thankfully, you agreed without a fuss, and for the whole time he drove you back to the villa, your hand was intertwined with his, laid on your thigh that was closer to the gearstick so he wouldn’t have trouble switching gears and holding your hand at the same time. He had to pretend that he wasn’t too happy with the show of affection you were sharing with him, but there was no mistaking from his expression throughout the drive that he was thrilled.

“Thank you for today, Guk,” you said as he stopped in front of your home, pushing the button that unlatched the seatbelt. “I had fun.”

“Thank God.” He laughed and so did you. You gazed at each other for a while before he squeezed your hand and let go, about to unfasten his seatbelt. “Let me walk you to the front door.”

“That won’t be needed.” You held his bicep to stop him, a successful tactic. “Dad’s probably home already and I know you say that he’s okay with us doing this but I still prefer if he wouldn’t see what I’m going to do.”

He knitted his eyebrows together, close to asking what you meant but you had already launched yourself towards him and kissed his mouth, catching him completely off guard. “Good night,” you said then, grinning, though your attempt to get out of the vehicle urgently after you said that failed to do a dramatic exit as Jeongguk gently pulled you back with a gentle hold on your wrist to kiss you again, this time in a fuller and proper way.

His calloused palm landed on your cheek, another on your neck, and when he leaned away in what seemed like hours of your lips on the other, your tongues clashing at one or multiple points in fervor—it was only so he could do the boyish gesture of smirking at you, kissing you again instantly afterwards, a soft groan rumbling in his throat while he kept you a bit longer in his car than he planned. That night marked the beginning of your budding relationship with him.

It also marked the moment when he realized that it was your nerve and determination that Jeongguk truly loved the best when it came to you. However, it wasn’t going to be for another few years that he would soon discover that just like everything in the world, your nerve and determination had limitations of its own, that there were going to be occasions wherein you would back out and play it safe—and he was willing to fill that portion of cowardice you possessed with the courage he was born with and worked hard for in his bones.

━ CHAPTER II.

Growing up, Inhwan never pressured you with the possibility that you’d have to take over the winery once you were old enough. Instead, he insisted that you follow your own dreams and he will be here, always right behind you, supporting you in any way that he could to make sure that dream of yours would come true.

Truth be told, it was never his intention to build the wine company in hopes that it could be a permanent business for his children and grandchildren—at least not at first when Don Jungsoo proposed the idea to him. The Don only told Inhwan that he should think of another venture that the Jeon Family can go into, a venture that would serve as another front for the real Family business, and in return for his efforts to build this future company and act as its CEO for the following years to come, he would be granted most of its earnings, since being so would not cause an issue with the Family due to his record of loyalty, which Inhwan felt very grateful for.

At Inhwan’s motivation, you decided to go towards the path of being an accomplished lawyer. Of course, that would take more years of studying and more years of general sleepless nights and frustration until you probably would have to wish death to fall upon you later on. But you were determined to prove yourself out there and do something that your heart genuinely longed for, not caring how long it would take and how much you would have to endure just to be at the top of your game. Inhwan, like promised, was more than willing to provide you with everything necessary for a bright road heading to your dream.

Inhwan knew you were an intelligent woman. The fact slapped him in the face every time you talked and made comments about the news or the wine company, speaking your mind out even at times no one frankly asked for your thoughts. You weren’t only smart because you knew how to memorize the texts on your school books—you were a true intellectual. He knew that and knew that he didn’t need to ask the Godfather to call important contacts to be guaranteed that you will get into the finest law school in Seoul once you were a few months away from finishing your undergraduate studies—but he still did, just to double-check, just to feel at ease that he won’t have to answer to his daughter’s disappointment when you discover that you didn’t get in.

You still got in though, thank goodness, without any of the Family’s special friends pulling some strings for him, earning it fair and square. The next thing you know, you have already spent four years in law school and have graduated, eventually passing the bar exam, your name printed as one of the top scorers. Once again, Inhwan was grateful that he didn’t have to contact anyone, knowing that if you discovered what he did, you would take it as more of an insult than a favor since more than anyone, it was supposed to be Inhwan who trusted your ability to pass on your own.

In celebration for yet another impressive feat of yours, he hosted a big get-together in the villa, inviting the Family and other people to share the momentous occasion with the both of you. Inhwan, though positive that the Don has not changed his mind in including women openly in the business, knew that the Godfather would find your obvious achievement beneficial to the Family, so he made sure to give highlight to your passing (even if it was just the start) as much as he could. You’ve been dating the Don’s grandson for four years now after all; it was only natural for Inhwan to always want to bring you into a better light and deem you as indeed worthy.

“Guk,” you breathlessly chuckled, your boyfriend’s tongue swiping against your skin, “they’re going to notice we’ve gone missing.”

Jeongguk pulled away from your neck, the skin of your throat littered with red marks that you’d have to cover up by changing into a turtle neck after the both of you were done. “So what? They’ll just understand that I’m just giving my smart girl her present.”

“And what is your present?” You couldn’t help but release a small moan when he lapped his tongue once more on your flesh and pressed himself against you deliciously harder on the mattress. “Your dick?”

“What? You don’t want it?” He snickered.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I have a greater gift other than my manhood, angel.” He leaned back fully, a handsome grin on his features, his arms supporting half of his weight as he hovered you. “Do you wanna see it?”

“Your manhood? Well, we both know it’s not something I haven’t seen before—”

“No,” he rolled his eyes, snatching a long kiss on your mouth for your silliness, “my gift. What I bought for you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You really brought something for me?”

“Of course.” Another kiss, now on your forehead, and he stood up.

He went to your dresser, took the small paper bag that you didn’t even notice the first time around for you were too preoccupied with Jeongguk’s lips to mind anything else, and sat down on the spot he was in just seconds ago to officially present it to you. You watched in anticipation as he brought a black box out, your eyes widening impulsively at what it possibly meant and what it had inside though before you could speak, Jeongguk beat you to it. “I’m not proposing. In case you were thinking about that,” he said, placing the paper bag he didn’t need anymore on the floor.

You released a huff of relief. “I would have said no anyways.”

He flashed his eyes on you, hurt. “Really?”

“You’re not proposing, right?”

“Yeah, but it’d be nice to know that if I was, you would have said yes regardless.”

“I would have, but just not at this moment. Wouldn’t want being engaged to you steal the limelight of my accomplishment.”

He snorted. “Can’t say you’re wrong. It’d be a nationwide phenomenon.”

“Sometimes, you can go too far over the top of your head, sweetheart.” You gently held his chin to drag his face closer so you could plant a kiss on his mouth.

Jeongguk smirked and opened the velvet box. There inside lay a thin gold chain necklace with five diamonds, the five of them glittering and placed tightly next to each other in the middle. You unconsciously held your breath at its gorgeousness, your interest in jewelry not being hidden at that instant, for you can’t deny that as you got older, your love for shiny things increased too, but then you thought about how this must have cost a fortune—not that it would be any problem to Jeongguk if it had—that a frown came to your face the next instant.

“Jeongguk…”

“I didn’t spend that much on it,” he defended immediately, aware that you would open the topic of how much was this. “This didn’t put me close to bankruptcy or something.”

“Huh, that’s not at all a very guilty thing to say, Guk.”

He chuckled at the sarcasm. “Well, okay—you can’t expect me not to go all out sometimes. You deserve gifts like this.”

“Do I really?”

“Of course, you do, angel.” He took the necklace from its box. “Turn around for me. Let me put it on you and let’s see what it looks like.”

You obliged, scooting towards him and spinning around to let your back face him. You swept your hair to the other side and lifted it up, Jeongguk swinging his arms over you and laying the necklace flat against your skin, the five diamonds just by your collar. The cold sensation of the chain made goosebumps rise on your nape; Jeongguk locked it in place and lightly pulled the diamonds lower to fix it on your neck.

He kissed your shoulder sweetly when he was done. “Okay, let’s see it.”

You both stood up, trudging to the full length mirror you had in your room. As you stood before it, you could clearly see the diamonds gleaming with enthusiasm; you’re already sure that no one would miss it when you go outside and greet some guests again. You know they would automatically think that it was Jeongguk who gave you such an exquisite present, considering that even though your father would not hesitate to give you expensive jewelry like this one, Inhwan didn’t exactly have the same good taste as your boyfriend to have the necklace mistaken as his gift.

“Looks like it was made for you,” Jeongguk commented with a proud smile, kissing the same spot on your shoulder. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

He chuckled, encircling his arms around your waist, still placing sweet kisses on your skin.

“How much is this?” You still couldn’t help but ask.

He shook his head. “No, no, this is a gift, I won’t tell you how much it costs.”

“Just give me an estimate, Guk.”

“It’s as grand as my love for you.”

You scoffed. “I’ll be offended if I discover that this isn’t as expensive in my head.”

He laughed. “I assure you it’s worth a lot. When have I ever given you anything that didn’t match your significance to me?”

“That’s your flaw, really. You spend too much.”

“I don’t mind.” He nuzzled his face on your neck. “Not if it’s for you.”

You turned around and embraced his torso, smiling, touched and swooned by his words as he always had the ability to do. You pushed yourself upwards with your toes, properly kissing him on the lips and Jeongguk reciprocated the gesture with a content smile, his hand on your hip tightening.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I appreciate it, you know I do. But next time, how about you give me something that isn’t too glorious, alright?”

“No promises.”

You narrowed your eyes on him, a complaint bubbling inside you though just as you were about to say it out loud, Jeongguk was quick enough to prevent your actions by capturing your mouth again with his, humming in a teasing manner as he slowly led you back to the bed.

Three knocks on your door interrupted the moment, the two of you freezing at the sound. “Guk? Are you in there?” A familiar voice was heard from the other side of the door.

“No, he isn’t,” you promptly lied.

“____, I can sense that you’re holding him captive even from miles away.” He chuckled.

You sighed and untangled yourself from Jeongguk, opening the door.

There outside at the hall stood Seokjin, the adoptive brother of Jeongguk who was also a good friend of yours and an already valued lawyer himself. He was five years older than him and six years older than you, and being someone who always treated you like a little sister of his own, especially when you started to date Jeongguk, he was always kind to remind you since your law school days that if ever you needed anyone’s guidance about your shared field, he was there and was only one call away. You told him you were certainly going to take him up for that someday when you indeed needed his help, very comfortable with him to possibly open the topic in the future.

Seokjin glanced at Jeongguk. “Your grandpop wants to talk to you.”

“What is it about?” Jeongguk was smoothing his hair.

“Business, as usual.” Seokjin looked at you next. “Sorry for stealing him away—and in the middle of your party too. But it’s important.”

“No worries, I understand. Besides, Dad might not be too thrilled if he caught us in here before you have. We were just going to join the others again anyway.”

“Ah, yes, remember to keep yourself pure before marriage, ____. Saving yourself for your wedding night is definitely still the trend with the old folks.” Seokjin grinned.

“A possible yet at the same time impossible task,” you further joked.

“I’ll see you again later, okay?” Jeongguk appeared beside you to head to the door, pecking your cheek and glancing at his brother. “Jin, look at what I’ve bought, isn’t it beautiful?” He pointed at the necklace you wore.

Seokjin turned his eyes on it like asked and pursed his lips in approval, staring at it with an amused expression, nodding. “Gorgeous. You wear it well, ____. Of course, that is if we’re talking about the diamond necklace and not the forming hickeys.”

Your face burned; you tried to look nonchalant to preserve what’s left of your dignity, moving your hair then to the front to conceal the love bites. “Well, both were given by this clever guy right here.” You glared at Jeongguk who was staring at your neck now with an even prouder gaze. You hit him on the stomach because of it.

“That doesn’t come as a surprise.” Seokjin snorted and patted Jeongguk��s back as the young man stepped out. “We’ll catch up with you again after we’re done. I won’t keep him for too long.”

“No, it’s really alright. Settle what needs to be settled. In fact, don’t bother to return him if it’s that important.”

Seokjin laughed, pushing Jeongguk away before the latter could snap something back. “Noted. Congratulations again, princess. I look forward to seeing you in court one day.”

“Thanks, Jin. Hopefully not against each other though.” You smirked.

He chuckled and strided forward with an arm around Jeongguk’s shoulders, leading him to the direction where your father’s office was located.

You’ve been informed that the Jeon Family has been talking about matters concerning the winery. The Don, being the Chairman of the board, was discussing affairs with Inhwan that you weren’t really aware of for your father never liked sharing them with you.

It was odd in your opinion, to still be kept under the light about anything that involved the wine company, for you’ve had the impression that once you grew up and has made it apparent that you could be a good help to the business despite your choice of profession not entirely centered around it, he would be more open to letting you in the scoop. Instead, you still had to mostly hear news about what he planned for it through hints from Jeongguk or other employees. Whenever you’d ask Inhwan yourself if there was anything you could do for the business, he would only squeeze your shoulders as he hugged you from the side, assuring you that you didn’t have to worry about anything, and that he could manage on his own and with the help of the Don just fine.

You let it slide but you were always salty about his secrecy deep down as you even reckon that Seokjin was more involved with it than you were. You’ve eavesdropped once in a conversation shared by your father and his friends at the patio of your villa that Seokjin was practicing his law degree exclusively for the Don (you’ve taken it as he was a part of the lawyers representing JSG Group), meaning he probably took care of anything related to the legalities of the winery too.

In a part of your mind, you didn’t get why Seokjin wouldn’t want to kick start his career first by gaining experience and taking a lot of various cases first rather than working for one big client after graduation. You knew the Don probably could offer him a sum that no client could ever give him, but in regards to the practice of law itself, you weren’t so sure. It seemed to be working out for Seokjin regardless though; he has always been sharp-witted and sensible anyways to not make the right decision.

Eventually, you’d have the opportunity of knowing exactly how sharp-witted and sensible Seokjin can be; you’d be far astonished to the point of actually beginning to deem him as a better lawyer than you were yourself, because unlike you, Seokjin had a certain quality within him that made him the perfect legal adviser.

━ CHAPTER III.

Jeongguk, since the day he became a made man, was always reminded that everything that revolved around the Mafia was strictly business. The transactions, the meetings, the negotiations, and even the violence that may come along with it if diplomacy was not the effective way to go was part of the whole ordeal. He had to instill in his head from the very start that nothing from their world should be taken personally—even if a member gets hurt because of another Family or a mafioso becomes a traitor to their organization. Everything was still going to be considered as business or done for the sake of business; nothing should ever be taken personally or with the aim to hurt the mafioso’s personal life.

That was one of the reasons why the Cosa Nostra was still seen as an honorable society despite the dangers and the various dirty businesses it carried out. Even though their people were comprised of crooks, thieves, murderers, and other nouns to describe generally bad people, they still had a set of morals of their own that they religiously kept within themselves and followed. However, there were flaws and loopholes to those ethics they observed, and the thin line that separated business matters and personal matters was something they overstepped at times in being too inflamed with their innate greediness.

“Are you sure it just happened? No one attacked my father?” Hanseo frustratingly asked through the phone. “How about that guy? Jang Yeocheol? He was obviously more than displeased when the Don refused to fund his plan for that wack of a narcotic casino. He didn’t do anything about it?”

Jeongguk waited patiently in the single leather chair inside the office. One thing he was sure of is not to rush and ask questions when Hanseo was asking them to someone else and was obviously agitated over the line. The person he was talking to was the Don’s bodyguard, the person who was in charge of driving him in and out of the office and to any other errands he wanted to go; his name was Yoongi and from Jeongguk’s knowledge, he was also one of Inhwan’s most trusted men, a guy he considered as his right-hand man since Jeongguk formed his own regime.

“Okay. I’m sending men there for backup. No doubt the news is already out about the Don’s condition.” Hanseo ended the call and glanced at Jeongguk.

“What happened to Grandpop?” he put forward.

“Stroke. Just fell in his office chair and his secretary found him there. Don’t worry, he’s okay, he was spotted early on and the doctor in charge of him is Dr. Hwang. I’m sure he’ll be doing anything to make sure the old man’s okay. You know him, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jeongguk nodded. “He owes Grandpop a lot of favors. Should I do something? Should I go to the hospital too?”

“No, no, I don’t want you going there until I’m sure there really isn’t foul play involved. I know it’s not unlikely for Pop to suffer from something like that, the man’s not getting younger after all, but it’s still better to be sure. I’m going to have them review the CCTVs at the office; I’ll ask a guy I know to look through the phone calls of anyone close to the Don recently. Especially Yoongi—just for a safety measure, I don’t think that kid has it in him to betray us if that was the case.” Hanseo dialled another number on his phone.

Jeongguk took out his phone as well, the other one he used for the business. “Don’t you want me to call anyone too? The other Three Families might be jumping on this opportunity to put us in the bad light; for sure they’ll have the people think that his condition is worse than it already is.”

“I already have Seokjin working on that. He’ll be talking to the director at HSN News to make sure nothing leaks or at least nothing makes a big deal out of it. Why don’t you just go ahead and talk to your uncles? Ask them where they are and how they’re doing.”

“Really? That’s all you want me to do?”

“Yes, Guk, just go ahead and do it for me.” Hanseo made a hand movement that meant ‘go do it’ as he said his greetings to the person who just answered his call.

Jeongguk started calling his two other uncles at his father’s request; the second eldest, though having never shown his obvious affection for their Family, was panicked when he got Jeongguk’s call, quickly asking if the Don was alright. Jeongguk assured him that everything was okay and that they were handling it here in the headquarters, a.k.a. the home of Don Jungsoo itself, efficiently. His uncle murmured his praises of thanks to the heavens and promised that he’ll be travelling as fast as he could back to Seoul, in which Jeongguk immediately said that the best thing that he could do there is wait for a while until they confirm that matters are truly fine; once all of that is done, Jeongguk will ask Inhwan to send a couple of men over to his uncle so that his travel can be arranged, a preposition that the second eldest son of Don Jungsoo agreed without further complaint.

For the youngest of his two uncles, the Family scaredy-cat as Hanseo liked to tease his brother for, already knew what was happening when he answered the call. It was obvious that he was shaken but was gratefully getting his shit together as he told Jeongguk that he’s already digging into it too. This uncle of his talked about how even though the Don was already in his late 70s, he still believed that his father would not fall into sickness like that, a statement that Jeongguk had to disagree to since it was him who had to see the Don every single day and see him act more like his age the more time passed by, but he chose not to say anything for the sake of his uncle who still thought of the Don so highly that even natural causes just didn’t seem plausible for him.

After Jeongguk was done making that last call, he was about to go back to the office and update himself with the next course of actions that Hanseo must already be devising when he saw your Caller’s ID flash on his screen and he figured you must have heard the news too. He answered quickly, hearing your concerned tone over the line right as he pressed the phone again against his ear.

“Hey, Guk, is he alright?” you asked, your sweet voice entering his ears that he unconsciously relaxes, not noticing that for the past thirty minutes or so of talking with his uncles and going over with what he knew so far, he has been tense and sweating through his palms.

“Yeah, he is. They’re still checking on him though but he’s fine.”

“That’s great to hear. I was surprised when I saw the article online. Do you know that they already wrote something about Don Jungsoo?”

Jeongguk closed his eyes in exasperation. “Now I do.”

“It’s horrible. I mean, I understand that they may think that the news would downplay the company but why would they go as far as reporting a personal matter like that so quickly. It’s practically inhumane.”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk sighed, agreeing despite knowing the precise answer to your wonder—that the news of the Don’s illness would bring definitely confidence in the other Families, that others would assume that the Jeon clan wouldn’t be as powerful as they were without Don Jungsoo, given that the majority of the important contacts they had were acquired thanks to their loyalty to Don Jungsoo.

A short pause. “How about you, sweetheart?” you asked. “How are you holding up?”

He shrugged even if you couldn’t see it. It was the first time someone asked how he was doing after the whirlwind of events. “I don’t know. I’d say I’m okay but I don’t know. I don’t feel good.”

“You must be feeling bad, I’m sorry for asking a stupid question. Your grandfather is in the hospital for god’s sake—it wouldn’t be unusual for you to feel that way. Should we visit him where he’s admitted later when I’m done here? Or you can go ahead and I’ll follow.”

“Sure, just right after I check in with Pop. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go there together.”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

“Thanks for asking how I am, angel.” He sighed, a small smile appearing on his features. He hated it when you downplayed your thoughtfulness by claiming it was stupid; he didn’t want you to think that he didn’t think it was sweet or touching. “I needed to hear your voice after the news. It’s a nice reliever, you know?”

“He’ll be fine, Guk.” You assured him. “The Don’s a strong man—a good man too. He’ll be okay.”

Jeongguk nodded. “Yeah, of course. He’ll be fine.” A thought jumped in his mind abruptly. “How’s your day, by the way? Have you talked with your dad?”

“Yeah, he called. He said he’ll be sending a chauffeur for me—for what reason, I don’t know what; he said that he just wanted me to get home safely. I declined though, I told him I wanted to talk to you first. Does this have to do anything with the Don?”

There were these moments wherein Jeongguk was positive that you knew much more than what you let on. He never would think you were stupid to not get what the Family really did after all these years of your father being a caporegime and your romantic relationship with him who plays an important role in the business; it’s just that a lot of people typically only assumed that the Don’s power and wealth all rooted from the power company and the other ventures the Jeon Family pursued, that it wouldn’t surprise Jeongguk if that’s what you only thought of as well. However, there were always said times like these in which you’d give him a flicker of awareness that he’d also always find himself second guessing.

Before he could have answered, Seokjin, who had slipped inside the office with Inhwan earlier while Jeongguk was conversing with his uncles, peeked outside at the hallway and looked at him. “Your pop’s asking you to pack it up quickly. You still talking with the two?”

“No. This is already ____ I’m talking with.”

“Hurry up, kid.”

Jeongguk hated it when Seokjin called him ‘kid’, even if it was used in a context of brotherly affection. He watched as the acting Consigliere disappeared inside the office again; he focused his attention back to you, still on the line and waiting. “I have to go,” he said, not bothering to pick up where the conversation was on. “They’re asking for me.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“I’ll text you if I get the go signal, alright? Don’t go anywhere and just stay in the firm. I’ll fetch you myself when I finish talking to them.”

“Is it really that bad for all of you to behave this way?” Your tone was joking, light, but he knew that it was a serious question.

“No, no, it’s just a precaution. I think you’re already aware that Grandpop has a lot of enemies, don’t you?”

“I know. I just don’t know why you’d have to be careful with me too.”

Everything in the Mafia was business, nothing should ever be personal; alongside that, the Families mostly kept their words in never hurting women or children. “Just a precaution,” Jeongguk repeated. “I want—and I’m sure Inhwan wants as well—for you to be safe,” he explained.

You didn’t push it. “Okay then. I’ll be here and I won’t go anywhere unless it’s you who’s taking me.”

“Good. I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

Jeongguk got the memo four hours later that the men that Hanseo hired to investigate the Don’s case concluded that there was no foul play involved and that the stroke the Don experienced was merely a normal occurrence because of his old age. Hanseo and the others expected it already, for since the last weeks, there have been instances in which the Don’s speech would be incomprehensible, a usual symptom for the illness. However, every time they raised the concern to the Godfather, insisting that he should go and see a doctor, even going as far as bringing the doctor themselves in the headquarters, the old man dismissed every single one of their attempts and said that he was doing well.

“We still need to secure the hospital though,” Jeongguk added after. “A lot would take advantage of Grandpop’s state. They’d want to use the excuse of his body failing on its own when they succeed in doing whatever bullshit they’d come up with in trying to get rid of him.”

“That won’t be a problem. We’ve got soldatos there from Inhwan’s regime and Seokjin already talked to the Chief of the Seoul Police Department to make sure it’s handled properly there at the hospital,” Hanseo said. “I’d ask you to send more from your regime, Guk, but let’s not draw too much attention.”

“I agree,” he nodded. “Can I go there now then? I’d like to visit him, see how he’s doing personally,” Jeongguk asked.

“Sure.” Hanseo nodded with a sigh. “Your grandma is already there so look after her too, she must be in shock as well. She always scolded him with the smoking and the drinking all these years that I bet it’s what she’s going to nag about once Pop gains consciousness. Plus, from now on, I’d like it if someone who’s actually part of the Family to be beside Pop’s bed all the time.”

“Okay.” Jeongguk looked at Inhwan. “I’m picking ____ at the firm. I’m going to be bringing her to the hospital too. Is that okay?”

Inhwan always appreciated Jeongguk’s respect for him whenever it came to you. Jeongguk never once made it look like he was unworthy of Inhwan’s trust since the both of you started going out by blatantly using his title as the Don’s grandson to do what he wanted. “You do that,” Inhwan urged.

“When do you plan on proposing to her?” Hanseo suddenly brought up while Jeongguk was heading to the door. “It’s been what? Five years? When are you going to tie the knot?”

Jeongguk glanced at Inhwan the same time Seokjin did, the Consigliere hiding the amused smirk that was beginning to show with a glass of scotch being raised to his lips. “Are you seriously going to bring that up right now, Pop? In front of Inhwan?”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Inhwan looked teasing, “you know you already have my vote, Guk.”

“I appreciate that but I don’t plan on proposing yet,” Jeongguk said.

“How come? What are you waiting for? ____ already graduated, she’s already doing well in her job. The both of you can start trying to make a family. It won’t be easy to do that in the future, I’m just saying. We’re looking at the worst case scenario here, and you know that if anything happens to Pop, you’ll be my underboss.”

“Not yet,” Jeongguk only reiterated. “And Grandpop’s going to be fine. There’s no need for me to rush into these things.”

“Jeongguk,” it’s Seokjin who spoke next, “you do know that when the Don wakes up, he won’t be the same anymore, right? He’s already having problems with his talking even before this happened; no doubt we’ll have to expect worse for the following days.”

“Propose to ____,” Hanseo said in a more authoritative voice. “Then when Pop wakes up and he’s doing okay—if he doesn’t look as bad as we’re expecting him to be—let’s get you and ____ married. We’ll have the Don attend and then it’ll be shown on the news how the Don still has the strength to attend to one of the momentous occasions in his grandson’s life.”

“So, you want to use an intimate and personal event in my life as a publicity stunt?” Jeongguk scoffed.

“Don’t take it to heart, Guk.” His father frowned. “It’s for the Family.”

“It’s bound to happen sooner or later anyway,” Seokjin added. “You’ve been trying to find a ring, haven’t you?”

“Not really the time to bring that up, Jin.” Jeongguk clenched his jaw, though his annoyed expression quickly faded and he found himself nodding at the end. “But fine, alright. I’ll do it if it’s the way we should go.”

“Great.” Hanseo smiled. “Let’s just pray harder that the old man gets a full recovery then.”

Jeongguk drove to the law firm you were working at with the thought of marriage in his head. It wasn’t like it never hit him that it’s about time that the both of you get wed; Hanseo already pointed out that it’s already been five years, Seokjin already mentioned it too that he’s been finding an engagement ring as well. It’s not like Jeongguk still had his doubts most especially, he was already sure from the moment that the two of you uttered your first I love yous to each other in the past that you were going to be the one and only woman he’ll want to hear that from—no one else.

He was just afraid of pulling you into the Family further. It was inevitable and a given already, as he never once thought of letting you go for the sake of your possible safety. It was selfish and terrible of him but he always thought that if other members of the Family could do it and still keep their wives and children safe, why can’t he? After all, the Mafia might always resort to violence and blackmailing when certain happenings don’t fall in their favor, but as much as possible, they tried to not step over the line and harm a Mafioso’s blood family. Doing so would bring shame to their values and would wage a war between the Four Families as they’d support their member’s want for vengeance and justice. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

Jeongguk only hoped that it’ll always remain that way for as long as the two of you lived. He doesn’t think he would take it if something happened to you because of the business he was involved in. It was already bad enough that you’re the only weakness of your father, the only person he cherished now after your mother’s passing; now you’ve managed to become Jeongguk’s apparent weakness too.

He soon arrived at the entrance of your firm’s building. He already texted that he was on his way minutes ago, so he was pleased to see you marching out of the doors quickly once you saw his vehicle, hopping inside the passenger’s side and automatically leaning towards him as you gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“You good?” you asked straight off the bat, a hand on the back of his neck, fingers lightly massaging his nape.

Jeongguk relaxed again at the action and stared at you before being the one to lean towards you this time, kissing you on the mouth, longer and fuller. “I am,” he said as he let go, facing forward. “All thanks to you.”

You snorted while putting on your seatbelt. “Well, I’m glad. I take it that there are no concerning affairs about the Don?”

He only shook his head in confirmation, driving forward. It didn’t take long until you both were at the hospital; Jeongguk was satisfied to see that there were a significant number of men there at the entrance, alert and eyes continuously scanning the area. When they took notice of the Don’s grandson, one of Inhwan’s men, Yoongi who was mentioned earlier and was proven innocent, greeted the two of you and insisted on letting a soldato park the car so you both could head on your way. Jeongguk thanked him and proceeded on grasping your hand, pulling you with him as he followed Yoongi towards the Don’s room.

Jeongguk hardly looked at his grandfather while consoling his grandmother along the side. He never saw Don Jungsoo as helpless as he looked at that moment; the Don has always been a hero in Jeongguk’s eyes; his protector and the person he was sure would never desert him even if worst comes to worst. Even if the doctor in charge of Don Jungsoo already assured and explained to Jeongguk that they’ve already put the necessary meds to stop the blood clot and that they’re also monitoring the Don closely, Jeongguk somehow was still not at peace.

He looked like he was though, that he was calm and composed, thanking the doctor with such politeness the Don would commend him for before Jeongguk added that if his Grandpop comes out of the hospital better and healthier, he’ll put in a word to Hanseo to reward the doctor for the service.

“Do you want me to go out and buy food?” you whispered to Jeongguk as he stared at the television, his face expressionless and making it obvious that whatever was playing in the screen wasn’t capturing his interest; his grandmother already left to eat and get some clothes at the Jeon Residential Area, so it was just Jeongguk and you for the meanwhile until his uncles and cousins would arrive. “Guk?” You placed a hand on his thigh when he didn’t answer.

He dazely turned to you. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Are you hungry? I can go out and buy food and you can stay here.”

“No, don’t leave.” He shook his head, scooting closer to you on the sofa you were both situated in. “I’m not that hungry yet. Are you?”

“Not that much.”

“Okay.” He held your hand and pulled you towards him with it, just so he could place an arm around your shoulder. “We can just stay here until Uncle comes.”

You gazed at him from the side. “Tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart,” you murmured as you leaned your head back at his bicep.

He dared to smile. You always had a knack at reading his mind—it’s either that or he’s been visibly bothered for the past minutes for you to finally say something. “Just worried about Grandpop. Hate seeing him like this.”

“Yeah, I know. This sucks.” You pressed your lips together. “Dr. Hwang said he’ll be fine though. He’s already pulling through, all we’re waiting for is when he’ll wake up.”

“I have no doubt that he’ll be fine. I just don’t like waiting. I don’t like this stage—the uncertainty. Until I see his eyes open and have him talking to me, I’ll always feel bothered.”

“We can visit him everyday until that happens. Will that make you feel better about this? I bet it’ll make the Don happy too; he’ll be pleased to know his favorite grandson has always stuck by his side.” You grinned, teasing a little.

“How do you do that?” Jeongguk abruptly blurted and you raised your eyebrows. “How do you make things feel so easy? So light?” It wasn’t the time to act lovey-dovey, especially a few steps away from the Don’s bed, but Jeongguk got reminded of his father’s request to propose to you and marry you soon, and he deemed this second as one of the reasons why having you his wife would be one of the best decisions he’ll ever make if he decides to finally go forth with it.

“I’m made for you like that.” You smirked, squeezing his hand. “I’m your personalized lover.”

Jeongguk laughed. “That’s corny as fuck.”

“Excuse me? I’m trying to lighten the mood here more and you’re going to insult my attempts?” You were already laughing with him though.

“I love you.” He grinned and ducked his head to kiss your nose since your lips were too far from reach. “Always be my angel, okay?”

You dragged yourself higher to do his unfinished task, kissing him on the lips, just an innocent peck. “I’ll stay on your shoulder forever.”

“You better.”

You kissed him again. “I love you too, Guk.”

He sighed in content, petting your head gently while you laid your temple against his chest.

Jeongguk indeed came to the Don’s hospital room everyday after that, staying longer than you could as you had a job to maintain, keeping himself updated first hand about any news about his grandpop’s health. For days he sat at the farthest side of the sofa while various visitors offered their wishes of recovery to Don Jungsoo, holding the old man’s hand and kissing it, crying on it even as if to show how sincere they were, praying profusely for his fast recuperation. Sometimes they’d offer their wishes to Jeongguk or to Hanseo when the latter was present too.

Finally after nine days, the Don opened his eyes and Jeongguk was there to witness it happen, immediately jumping out of his seat and pressing the nurse call button as per protocol right after.

The Don looked at him, his old and misty eyes staring at Jeongguk. “Hanseo?” he said and even with the error, Jeongguk still smiled.

“It’s Jeongguk, Grandpop. It’s me. I’m here.”

“Jeongguk,” Don Jungsoo repeated, slowly recognizing him. “Jeongguk, my golden boy.”

Dr. Hwang and the nurses swarmed inside the room quickly and soon enough, the other members of the Family were already there too, having just gotten the news thanks to Jeongguk who called his father as soon as the medical staff were taking care of the Don. Even you managed to arrive at the hospital upon Jeongguk’s text swiftly, entering the VIP room with Inhwan and approaching Don Jungsoo alongside your father, the old man offering you a tired yet pleased smile as your gazes connected and you bowed in respect.

You stayed with Jeongguk for another two hours before one of Jeongguk’s uncles convinced him that he should go home, take a nice shower, and rest while they take their turn in looking out for the Don. Jeongguk agreed and obviously asked if you could come home with him, which you nodded to, said your farewells to the Don, and then fled with Jeongguk to go to their home at the Jeon Residential Area. Once there, you stayed in his room as he took a nice bath, sprawled your body on his bed and waited until he was done so you could ask what he wanted for dinner.

He came out of the bathroom just as you were talking with a fellow associate at the law firm on the phone. You ended the call shortly at his return and smiled at him; Jeongguk went to his wardrobe to pick out some clothes, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist that you would have been fazed about if it wasn’t an already common sight to see. Nonetheless, it was still a sight that you were happy to be blessed with, your eyes trailing to the curve of his tattoo-filled arms, his defined chest and abs, right over to his muscular back that Jeongguk noticed you were truly ogling at when he glanced at your direction.

“You’re drooling, angel.” He smirked and you flickered your stare back to his eyes. “You like what you see?”

“Don’t I always?” You let out a huge breath, Jeongguk grinning and walking to your spot on the bed.

He leaned down, tilting his head to the side and pressed his mouth against yours. You ultimately melted at his touch and your insides easily squirmed in desire with that one gesture. Jeongguk felt the same way, felt the same impulse to go where this was headed faster. Being the patient and considerate man he always was however, he waited until you made the second move, the move that will reassure him that you wanted it as much as he did, and the instance you tugged his towel downwards that caused it to fall down, he didn’t waste time in pushing you forward so that you’d lay on the bed and under him.

The Jeon Family was still a little old-fashioned sometimes because of Don Jungsoo; the Don still expressed his disapproval of premarital sex whenever the subject rose as he’s a firm believer that a woman should be kept pure before the night of the wedding. It was an ironic principle by the Don really, as he still condoned the organization protecting one of the largest strip joints in the city and subsequently caved into the business of prostitution as well. Perhaps it was just a value he wanted to keep within the family—a value that Jeongguk has honestly not been able to keep with you.

It was foreseeable though as you and Jeongguk were in your prime, only in your late 20s, still considerably young; the both of you were also a good looking pair and a very smitten one too. It simply would be impossible to think that nothing happened at least once in the five years you’ve been a couple. If that was the case, people would have to commend you two for the self-control and the dedication to keep the Don’s virtues within yourselves as well.

For the past week, Jeongguk has been longing to have you this near him. He’s been too preoccupied with his grandpop’s condition and what’s been going on in the business too that he hasn’t indulged himself in anything that could keep his mind away from it. With the Don unable to lead, it was Hanseo who acted as the boss of the Jeon Family; whether a lot approved of it or reckoned Hanseo as a great successor so far, Jeongguk wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to hear anything that would cause unnecessary anger and stress on his part, so he chose not to hear the opinions of others about it. He only knew that Seokjin argued a lot with Hanseo just to put his father in the right mindset.

It’s obvious that Jeongguk has indeed been craving this with the harsh slams of his hips against your thighs as he spreads you further. It’s been seconds since he triggered an orgasm from you after eating you out like a starved man, shoving two fingers in and out of you rapidly as well, intent on making you come and get you prepped for him as fast as he could for he truly has been too eager to feel you around him again. Two weeks of not getting to make love with you was too much of a long time for Jeongguk to put it plainly.

“You wasted your shower,” you moaned as he lifted a leg of yours over his shoulder, your intention to tease apparent even if you were already being railed deliciously.

“I can just take another one. With you.”

You felt the pit of your stomach beginning to knot once more in pleasure and Jeongguk grunted as you squeezed him tighter. He dropped your leg and fell forward, latching his mouth around a nipple while a free hand groped your other breast. You gripped the hair at the back of his head, tugging its strands firmly, prompting a louder grunt from Jeongguk that sounded more of a growl than any other sound he has made and he let your nipple go to return to your mouth.

“Fuck—” you cursed with a hiss— “I’m gonna come again.” You whined.

“Touch yourself for me,” he softly ordered.

You followed his command and reached down to strum your clit hastily, Jeongguk pounding his cock inside your cunt in a sloppier manner. He too was close and was already aiming to take the both of you to your highs without any more delay. In a few more thrusts, more dirty whispers on your ear as he coaxed you to come again—to milk him dry and to let yourself go—your second orgasm rippled through you greatly; your loud noises of ecstacy probably being heard beyond the four walls of Jeongguk’s bedroom that he covered your mouth with his own to not let anyone near catch it. He might be delighted to let anyone know you were being treated well in the bedroom, but he still valued your want of privacy.

“Can I come inside?” He’s heaving, sweat running down his temple and chest. “Please? Please let me come inside your pretty pussy.” Jeongguk was whining at that point, dragging every bit of his control to not blow his load just yet.

You nodded, eyes closed, muttered yes over and over again, and with your permission, Jeongguk came inside you like stated. He groaned against your neck, forehead crushing the pillow by your head, his sweet moans eliciting goosebumps to rise on your skin. He gave you a couple of slow thrusts and then pulled out, kneeling on the mattress between your legs to stare at his cum seeping down your cunt. He grinned, stroking the tip along your folds in satisfaction, pushing two fingers in to keep his load in it, and when he was done, he crawled to your side, gently hauling you to his chest.

You ran your palm on his opposite shoulder and squeezed it while your cheek rested on its twin. “I’m tired.”

“You can take a nap,” he whispered, planting kisses on your forehead and hair, anywhere his lips could touch.

“I feel icky down there.”

He laughed and you pushed yourself up to glare at him playfully. Jeongguk remained grinning; he cupped your face and kissed you on the lips again. Soon you were on your back like earlier and he was hovering over you, the both of you making out. “Angel,” he mumbled, the endearment he loved using the most because of his reasoning that you were one of those heavenly creatures yourself, rang in your head in a more loving way, and you clung yourself against him closer, “you’ll marry me if I asked, right?”

You released his lips, pushing his face away, your thoughts returning to earth at his out of the blue inquiry. “What?”

“Marry me,” he said with more conviction, his eyes staring through yours. “I’ll make you the happiest woman alive.”

You chuckled. “I already am.”

“Then make me the happiest man alive by saying yes.”

“Guk—”

“I love you. You love me. We’ve been loving each other since forever. Why don’t we officiate it?”

“Is this your ‘I just got laid and I feel high’ brain speaking?”

“____…” he called you by your name, a rather rare occurrence if it’s just the two of you than most people would think; you understood then that he was really being serious, “I want to marry you.”

You gazed at him, your hand pushing his hair back away from his face. You appeared amazed, like you were waiting for the punch line of his joke or for him to generally just take his words back—but it never came, Jeongguk just remained staring at you, waiting for you to answer, and with a shaky exhale after realizing he was for real, you nodded. “Okay. Propose to me then.”

He kissed you; he placed his lips close to your ear; he murmured and confessed his love to you all over again. You smiled all throughout, your heartbeat beating fast and your eyes welling up as you listened to him recount dozens of memories with you, memories that you weren’t even aware he remembered up until that moment. As his finale, he asked you again if you would do the honor of marrying him, to make him the happiest man alive, though barely finishing his sentence, he abruptly propelled himself up from his position and rummaged for something in the bedside table at your left, and when he let you see what he stole from the drawer’s contents, it was a red box.

“Have you always had that right there?” you exclaimed, amused.

“No, just last night. I was beating myself up for not being able to think of a creative way of proposing soon and I might have shoved this ring too hard inside the drawer.”

You chuckled. “You’re unbelievable, Guk. You’re naked and you’re proposing and now you’re telling me you’ve endangered my supposed engagement ring?”

He ignored your teasing, acknowledging it only with a grin. “Will you marry me?” he finished his propal and opened the box; as expected of Jeongguk’s superior taste, the diamond ring that was placed in the center was so gorgeous you widened your eyes in astonishment.

You stared at the ring longer and looked up at him; you tipped your head to the side for effect and gestured to him to come closer. He did with a roll of his eyes, setting his head near yours and you hooked your arm around his neck, pulling him lower before whispering too in his ear. “Yes.”

What happened next was consisted of childlike giggling, Jeongguk pushing the ring on your ring finger, Jeongguk tackling you in an embrace, the both of you telling each other “I love you so much” until the phrase wore out, and then the inevitable love making for the second time that evening that also came to be more heartfelt than the last one—one that Jeongguk automatically added to his long list of unforgettable memories with you, his soon-to-be wife.

━ CHAPTER IV.

You didn’t want anything too flashy, that’s what you made clear. You wanted the wedding ceremony to only be attended by close friends and family; you wanted it to be intimate and personal as a wedding you thought should be. And although Jeongguk agreed and understood your point when you told him that, he expressed early on too that it was not going to be easy to make it happen for the sole reason that the person you were marrying was the grandson of the great Don Jungsoo—meaning that flashy and well-publicized would be the adjectives that would describe your wedding with him and not intimate and personal.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized sincerely right across from you on the table; the two of you were having lunch in some fancy restaurant near your law firm, the topic of wedding plans arising while you ate. “I wish I could say that I can just go ahead and tell Grandpop that I’d like to keep our wedding private, but you know how he is. You know how this family is.”

For the last few weeks, the Don’s health has been better. There were still risks, of course; he wasn’t magically cured from all illnesses just because he woke up and recovered. He was still an old man after all, and ever since the incident happened to him, his speech has notably become incomprehensible at times; a part of his face also slightly drooped, though you wouldn’t really notice it unless you’ve been staring at the Godfather your whole life and was sensitive to changes like that. As for his body though, he became thinner and in every step he took, looked like he grew heavier too. However, in regards to Don Jungsoo’s wisdom and ability to share intelligent thoughts, it was still gratefully there, just shared in a fashion that was a bit slower than before and perhaps harder to understand.

“Yeah, I get it,” you said. “What if we just elope and get married at some place like Vegas instead?” You were clearly joking. You showed it in the small upward curve of the other end of your lips, but you knew that Jeongguk sensed that there was still some genuinity hidden behind your light guise. “I’m kidding,” you added for a quick measure.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. There’s no reason for you to do so.”

“It’s just that I think I’m depriving you of spending our wedding day the way you want it. Haven’t you dreamed about something like this when you were young?”

“I did. I forgot about it eventually too. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’ll be a big deal to me if my beautiful bride won’t be happy on our special day.”

“Keep up the flattery and I’ll assure you that your beautiful bride will be happy.” You chuckled.

“Okay, how about this—” Jeongguk reached out and grasped your hand— “you do everything you want for the wedding and I won’t object. You can pick the theme, the food, the cake—everything. The only thing I’ll be having control over is the extra guesses for the ceremony and reception.”

“Guk, come on, I won’t deprive you like that. This is your wedding too.”

“I just want it to be memorable and have it the way you want, angel.”

“As long as you’re the one I’m saying I do too—it’ll be memorable and be exactly like I dreamed of. Don’t worry.”

Jeongguk grinned. “You mean that?”

“Would I have said yes if I didn’t?”

He chuckled and brought your knuckles to his lips, smooching it loudly in a playful yet sweet way.

Two months after that, you had your engagement party at the villa. Your home was big enough to accomodate people and it was a good thing that at least in that event, you had only spent it with your close loved ones and not anyone who wanted to suck up to your groom and steal him throughout the whole event, perhaps drowning him in unnecessary praises and ego boosts to get a good word from Jeongguk to Don Jungsoo. It was Jeongguk’s promise that he would ask the Don to keep the engagement party as exclusive as what you wanted, and indeed it is what happened.

There were people from your law firm, friends from college and from law school, and as for Jeongguk’s peers, he invited only a small number of people he knew; he told you they were mostly family friends, some college friends too, and close relatives. Your father, Inhwan, couldn’t help but invite his own set of guests, mostly people he knew through the Don. Of course, that only meant that the Don and his wife were also present in the event, along with Jeongguk’s parents, Hanseo and Yeonjin, and Seokjin with his wife as well.

A lot of people gawked and praised your diamond engagement ring, gushing how it looked dashing on your beautiful hand and how Jeongguk must have really gone all the way to buy it for you. In the moments your fiancé heard such admiration, he, who was standing beside you all day, smiled and squeezed your waist, glancing at you before declaring that it’s because you only deserve the best every single time. Ladies shared meaningful looks of envy with each other and teased you for being so lucky; gentlemen whistled in hilarity and gave Jeongguk playful pushes. Anybody with two eyes saw how you both shared great love and respect for one another, that it was always either admirable or gut-wrenching (in a good way).

“Are you ready to be part of the family?” Seokjin suddenly popped beside you and handed you a champagne flute. Jeongguk just left to go to the bathroom and unbeknownst to you, had asked Seokjin to take his place for a while until he came back.

You thanked him. “Is that question some kind of test?”

“Yep. If you say the wrong answer, I get to claim that fancy ring as my prize.” He nodded at your hand where the ring glimmered in the hanging lights. “I think I can support my family with that for over a couple of years.”

You snickered at his sarcasm.

While you were growing up, you have always admittedly been closer to Seokjin than you were with Jeongguk. Before your fiancé officially entered your life and claimed what would soon be his permanent place, it was Seokjin who you frequently saw and hung around with. The two of you had a similar sense of humor that you found clear connection in; he was and acted like an older brother you never had—in Jeongguk’s case, he already was an adoptive brother of the young man for since the death of Seokjin’s parents when he was in high school, Hanseo, who was his godfather, took him in the family. Inhwan was there to fend for him too, hence why you two became close, however, there was a period in your friendship wherein it faded out a little when he went to the States to pursue his baccalaureate and Juris Doctor degree, a path that you too was supposed to take as an aspiring lawyer yourself but with your father having no one close to real family if you did, you opted to stay.

“Is it odd that I’m a little nervous about it?” you asked him after a few seconds of silence. “Like, me and Guk have been together for so long, and I know his family likes me, but why do I still feel like they might change their mind when we get married?”

“As in Yeonjin becomes an evil mother-in-law?” He smirked and you gave him a look at the question. “Your worries are pointless, really. You know they already adore you. Hell, even the Don loves you and that’s an achievement of its own. You don’t have anything to be troubled about, ____.”

“The Don loves everyone.” You sipped on your flute.

“He loves everyone who his family loves,” he corrected. “To others he’s just kind and generous.”

You scrunched your forehead together and stared then at the Don who sat on a table far from yours. He was talking to Hanseo and Inhwan, a rather somber expression on his face; his mouth moved in a slow and steady bearing. You’ve thanked him earlier for going still despite his obvious declining health. He was still able to do things on his own and appear like he has always been, but being one to know what’s really going on behind the glamour of Don Jungsoo, you were aware that his first case of having a stroke took its toll on him; a fact that you noticed the Jeon Family has been trying to conceal.

“Seokjin, can you be honest with me?” you suddenly began.

He glanced at you. “About what?”

“The reason why your family insists on having the wedding as soon as possible.” You turned to him. “It’s because of Don Jungsoo’s condition, isn’t it?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just an observation.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think questions like that ought to be asked to Jeongguk instead?”

“I already did.”

“And what did he tell you?”

“He said that he wants his grandfather to be present and healthy on the special day, that’s why we should get married as soon as possible.”

“Then that’s the reason.”

“That’s a reason,” you said. “I have a feeling there’s more.”

Seokjin stared at you and brought the rim of his champagne on his lips. “You’re a smart girl, princess,” he replied. “And because of that, I’m sure you’ll figure it out on your own.”

You dared to snort in amusement. You knew that Seokjin was another one who didn’t budge, but it was still worth the shot.

You wanted to be let in with whatever has been happening since the Don’s mishap as you didn’t think that the way they reacted was how a normal family would when the head of your clan just suffered from a stroke. They were still sympathetic, of course, overly concerned about the health of the Don, however you had felt the tension that rose within the Jeon Family in the days that Don Jungsoo remained lying unconscious on his hospital bed. You saw how troubled Jeongguk was, even saw your father look visibly stressed, though what you had found most peculiar were the way outsiders were reacting to the news of the Don falling ill. They were taking every opportunity to bring down his name and his family—referring to him with titles such as ‘mob boss’ and ‘king of the underworld’ that it was impossible for you not to be curious.

“What did I miss?” Jeongguk returned to your place with raised eyebrows. “What’s with the serious faces?”

“I was welcoming ____ to the family,” Seokjin told him.

You decided to play along. His disregard of the last conversation probably meant he wasn’t keen on talking about it again. “More like threatening me. He wants to steal my ring.” You laughed at the same time Seokjin did when he heard you.

“I’m going to see this more often, aren’t I?” Jeongguk’s arm snaked around your waist while his eyes moved back and forth between you two. “The both of you just constantly ganging up on me with inside jokes or whatever?”

“Maybe. That’s what makes ____ the best sister-in-law, though.”

“The only sister-in-law actually.” You snickered. Seokjin clinked his glass with yours.

After the engagement party took place, came the rapid planning for the wedding. Don Jungsoo was ever so kind to pledge that all expenses for the ceremony and the reception were to be paid by him, an offer that you wanted to reject for even though you appreciated his kindness with all of your heart, you didn’t want to burden him and take advantage of it in that kind of extent. Jeongguk convinced you not to do so and just go along with it though; he said that The Don gained happiness by doing favors like that to his loved ones, especially to his favorite grandson, as he proudly claimed. Jeongguk insisted that it would bring great satisfaction to his Grandpop to know that he made a huge contribution to an important event of both of your lives.

So, you agreed, and in five months’ time, the wedding ceremony commenced and with just a blink of an eye, you found yourself being a true married woman to Jeon Jeongguk. You vowed to love him endlessly and to always be by his side in a cathedral that fit hundreds of people, people who you either knew well or have never met in your whole life. But you found yourself not caring as much with the amount of individuals present like you initially did. All you cared about was how handsome Jeongguk looked in his midnight blue tuxedo and his hair styled in a fashion that had one side slicked back and the other had some strands falling on his forehead, his big and boyish grin that he displayed right after when he shed some tears as he saw you walk down the aisle, his promises of devotion to you from that point forward, and especially the strength and earnestness of his kiss when the priest finally said “You may now kiss the bride”.

“I love you,” he whispered to you as he leaned back, his face only centimeters away, those words the only thing processing in your head while the crowd clapped and cheered

You grinned, kissing him more. “And I love you.”

The reception was held in one of the Don’s owned properties, a spacious mansion that no doubt was able to cater the hundreds of guests present. It was decorated in line with yours and Jeongguk’s chosen theme for the reception which was rustic, fitting the also rustic architecture of the venue. There were dark wooden chairs and tables covered only partially with white linen tablecloth; hand-tied bouquets and florals with greenery on baskets at some parts of the walls; antique ornaments and lights hanging on the ceiling; and the ambiance of the place was simply just the way you both wanted, delighting you two when you first arrived.

You slightly grew self-conscious with the amount of guests again when the host introduced you and Jeongguk as a married couple. You scanned the audience and saw a lot of familiar faces—and they were familiar not because you knew them personally, but because you have seen them on TV or in a newspaper once. You were aware that the Don had a lot of friends from the entertainment industry too, but you didn’t think that some of them would actually be close enough with the Don to be invited to the wedding.

“Just say the magic word and I’ll bail us out,” Jeongguk said against your ear while a distant relative of his sang in the center of the hall. The fun games were over and the program was going towards its end, the only thing left were the warm messages and the performances that your loved ones prepared for the special day.

You turned to him and chuckled. “First of all, I have no idea of this magic word that you’re talking about. Second of all—that eager to get me alone, huh?”

His eyes glinted.

You two made a pack since your engagement party that you would not partake in any sexual acts (the most would only be making out or groping if the libido was too tough to handle) before the wedding to make the night of the honeymoon more awaited for. It wasn’t even that long, to be frank (okay, maybe it was—five months was a considerable long time) but it was the longest in a while that you haven’t had sex since you started doing such act with him. Jeongguk was okay with the idea and agreed that it’ll make the wedding night more worth the wait.

However, earlier at the room where the both of you changed into different clothes for the reception, Jeongguk had kissed you and you kissed him back with the same flaring passion he was showing, prompting an unplanned heavy make out session that also brought a palm of his on one of your ass cheeks, your husband squeezing it and groaning, murmuring how he couldn’t wait until later to have you again. You jokingly slapped it away and told him to be more patient, which he groaned louder for and kissed you one last time before finishing on dressing up.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all day,” he continued, still whispering close to your ear. “You looked so gorgeous in the wedding dress—and now look at you right now, angel. You’re really giving me the impression that you truly are a gift from the heavens.”

You smiled. You were wearing a more daring attire for the reception, a lace maxi dress with a straight neckline and thin shoulder straps; it had a slit on the right side just above your knee as well, but it wasn’t that aspect of the dress that made it daring, it was the fact it completely exposed your back from behind and only had strings tied across its ends to make it appear not completely backless.

“You can take it off for me later,” you told him with a smirk.

Jeongguk huffed at that. “Don’t plant the idea in my head or I’m going to have a boner all night.”

“Well, it’s only fair. Do you think I’m fine with your chest practically in my face?” you retorted, and in cue, flickered your gaze down to his chest where the polo he was wearing had three buttons opened, giving anyone the view of his impressive pecs.

He seemed pleased that you noticed it. “You’re more than welcome to take it off for me too.”

“I’ll rip it off you, sweetheart.” You chuckled and pecked the corner of his mouth. He hummed and placed a cheeky hand on your upper thigh at the action, and when your eyes followed where his hand was travelling, you automatically lowered it down to your knee. “Guk.”

“Okay, okay,” he frowned and faced his palm up, an invitation for you to intertwine it with his and you accepted the offer, “I’ll behave.”

For the rest of the night, after the special performances by good friends and family, the reception felt like a campaign and Jeongguk was the candidate as it neared its conclusion. Acquaintances and business partners talked and congratulated him—they congratulated you too, of course, but you sensed that it was only mere politeness that made them do so. Their real target was still the Don’s grandson and having the chance to butter him up for the sake of getting on the good side of Don Jungsoo. In fact, you think that Don Jungsoo was perhaps more acknowledged than you throughout the evening as you recalled the amount of men that went to his table and shook his hand in eagerness for the duration of the function.

“Really, Dad? You’re going to cry at this last moment?” you teased your father; his expression was solemn and he had his lips pursed as you bid him your farewells to go to the airport where you’ll be flying to Jeju Island for the honeymoon. He didn’t cry when he handed you to Jeongguk at the cathedral, or shed a tear when you shared your father-daughter dance at the reception, but now it looked like his tear ducts were finally surrendering in defeat.

“I’m not crying,” he denied, though his hug was tight when you embraced him. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

“I’m still coming back after two weeks, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, kiddo.” He pulled back and kissed you on the forehead, holding you out within arm’s length to gaze at you fondly. “I guess I’m a little overreacting. Imagine if your mom was still here.”

“No doubt there’ll be waterfalls coming from her eyes.” You joked. One of the fond memories you had of your late mother was how easy it was to trigger a tear from her.

“Inhwan,” Jeongguk just finished instructing some men to help with the luggages so he decided to join the two of you, “or is it Dad too from now on?”

Inhwan laughed lightly as the young man stood beside you. “Sure, why not? You’re officially my son-in-law now anyways.”

Jeongguk gestured for a hug and Inhwan complied. He patted Inhwan’s back and said with a soft voice, “Don’t worry, I’ll do everything I can to always make ____ happy. She’s safe with me.”

“I know you will.” Inhwan grasped his shoulder when they both leaned away. “That’s why I like you so much, Guk. You’re a good one, you take care of my kid well.” They shared a smile.

While they continued to talk, you approached Hanseo, Yeonjin, and Jeongguk’s grandmother. You told them your thanks again for being part of the momentous occasion and for helping in making it happen in the way you wanted. Hanseo told you that it was no problem; Yeonjin kissed your cheek and said she was happy to finally have a daughter herself; Jeongguk’s grandmother embraced you and gave your cheek a kiss as well, saying there that she should begin passing on famous recipes in the Jeon household to you. Next, you moved to the Don who was just about to go ahead and sit at the backseat of his designated vehicle, but upon seeing you walk to him, stopped and waited until you two were finally standing face to face.

“Thank you so much for everything today, Don Jungsoo,” you said, bowing to show your respect. Even though the Don has been nothing but kind and goodhearted to you in the past years you have known him, you were still cautious whenever you interacted with the old man for the reason that is you were still intimidated by his presence and the powerful aura he gave off. “I appreciate it so much, truly, I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for being so generous.”

“You’re part of the family now, ____,” he clasped a hand of yours between his and tapped it gently, “so please feel comfortable to call me as Jeongguk would. It is I who should be thanking you for being there for my grandson no matter how difficult that boy can be. Everything I’ve done is nothing compared to the joy you’ve given him amidst the hardships he goes through everyday.”

“Oh, it comes both ways, I assure you. Jeongguk was clearly raised well for him to be this wonderful.”

“I hope that stays for a long time then—you and Jeongguk respecting and loving each other. One thing I’m sure in this withered life of mine is that loyalty plays a huge part in how events play out. The best investment you can ever have in your life is a good partner to spend it with.” He gave your hand another pat and then he let go. “Tell me if Jeongguk ever gives you a hard time and I’ll teach him a lesson.”

“That’s impossible, Grandpop.” Jeongguk walked from behind you and hugged his grandfather goodbye. “I don’t think you've noticed but ____ clearly has the pants in this relationship.”

They laughed, the Don’s laughter coming out as a wheeze though the smile on his face was unmistakably and genuinely amused. He said his final farewells to you two and you told him yours, saying too that you hope for him to keep on getting better that the Don appreciably smiled at and said his thanks. You watched as the vehicle he was in drove away, two more following closely behind as another led the path, placing the car where Don Jungsoo was in the middle.

“Ready to go?” Jeongguk asked when it was just you two there.

You smiled at him. “Yeah.”

You arrived at Jeju Island at about 10:56 PM that night. Out of all the places you could have gone to, you and him decided that Jeju Island was the one to go for the honeymoon because it was the same place where you celebrated your first anniversary in the past. Besides, you two didn’t want to go to another beautiful country and exhaust yourselves more with the travel time and all the arrangements you’d have to do for the location you’d be staying in for two weeks. The hotel you’ll be residing in was sponsored yet again by Jeongguk’s family.

“I hope you’re not too tired.” Jeongguk smirked at you while you both walked out of the elevator to head to the suite you were going to settle in for the mini vacation.

You glanced at him and smirked back; your hands were intertwined and you were swaying it back and forth childishly. “Me? Of course not.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent. How about you?”

“You really want to ask that?” He was looking at you differently now, eyes shaping themselves in a manner that you were all too familiar with.

“Well, I’m asking you because I’m just hoping you won’t sleep on me. I know we haven’t gotten proper action in months for you to miss this opportunity but let’s be real—when you’re tired, you’re tired.”

“I swear, I’m not.” He chuckled and paused with you as you arrived by the door. “I’m too pumped for me to be and indeed miss this opportunity.” He brought out the keycard, pressed it against the intended spot, and you heard the lock disengage with an audible click

At the sound of that, you began to get jitters. It was another one of those funny things you’ve been experiencing with anything related to Jeongguk since the engagement—that even though you’ve been with him practically half of your life and was one of the people you could be your absolute self and be assured you won’t be judge—you were starting to feel awkward and shy at times, such as this moment right here where even though Jeongguk had already kept the keycard back in his pocket and had opened the door to welcome yourselves to the room, you were frozen on where you stood, your feet seemingly stuck.

He appeared to have sensed your sudden showcase of reluctance for he abruptly faced you, his hands going on your bare arms as he smiled. “Let’s go?” He tilted his head towards the suite. Your luggages were already there, placed kindly by the hotel staff while you and Jeongguk were finalizing some papers at the lobby.

You shook every feeling of wariness away and nodded. At the gesture, Jeongguk’s smile widened into a grin and as fast as he could, he scooped you in his arms in what popular media would call ‘bridal style’, emitting a surprised yelp from you though you prevented your mouth from producing more noise by covering it with a hand while he walked further inside the room, kicking the door close behind him.

“Guk!” You laughed and he did too, face getting closer to yours until he captured your lips successfully.

You reciprocated as soon as you felt him kiss you, your arms being thrown around his neck so you could support yourself better. Jeongguk laid you down on the bed and you realized that rose petals were on them when your back hit the mattress, your eyes opening and spinning down to check if what you were thinking of were true and true enough, there they were. You had to make a mental note to thank the owner of the hotel for being accommodating enough to do the effort of creating a romantic atmosphere; they might do this as a standard for newly-weds, but the owner was a good friend of Hanseo’s so you wanted to express your gratitude personally.

“You said I could take this off, right?” Jeongguk ran his hands on the sides of your dress and you nodded.

He moved his mouth to your throat and kicked off with what he’s been yearning to do for those whole five months of not getting the proper taste of you. Despite the longing and the anticipation though, Jeongguk didn’t act rashly; instead he did anything rather excruciatingly slow—the way his lips moved against yours, how he untied the straps that enabled your dress to stay together, the manner in which he removed it from your body, planting wet kisses on your skin where the fabric of your dress previously glided on… fucking hell, you didn’t know whether you were trembling already because of his obvious unhurriedness or because you knew where his ministrations were going to take you.

“So pretty,” he breathed out raggedly as he squeezed your breasts. You were completely undressed before him as he intended, the only thing left was your white laced underwear that you wore to match the dress. “I think I’m going to nut by this sight of you alone, angel.”

You dared to chuckle. “Is it my turn to rip your polo off now?” Your hands were fondling the collar of his top.

“Be my guest.” He smirked.

Unlike him, you were swift in unbuttoning his long-sleeved polo, hastily pushing it past his shoulders to slide it off his arms. In the approximately ten seconds you did that, you kept on kissing him, sucking lightly on his lower lip, Jeongguk helping you in discarding the material away from his body as well. When that was done, he surged forward, laying over you on the bed, and you quickly carried on with removing his pants, briskly unbuckling his belt and unzipping it to grant you the freedom to tug it down his thighs.

As he pressed his body against you, you ultimately felt his hardness on your stomach, a sensation that you groan at, your insides tingling. You instinctively reached down and grabbed his cock over his boxers to feel it more, massaging and groping it, just the way he liked and what Jeongguk responded to by nibbling your jaw harshly. “Fuck,” he moaned before uttering a warning, “not too fast, not too fast.”

“Want you,” you pant, ignoring his protest, your palm not slowing down, “right now, Guk. Want your dick in my mouth.”

“Yeah?” He grunted, disposing of his boxers and flinging it off his feet. “Does my pretty wife want her mouth fucked first?”

You grinned at the title. It made your pussy clench into nothing. “Yes.”

He gnawed at your jaw before leaning back. “Scoot higher for me.” He instructed and you followed, backing up on the bed until you stopped at the pillows by the head. There were still petals all over the sheets that you had to flick them away with the back of your hand.

Jeongguk trailed his kisses from your knees up to your inner thighs, hands sensually caressing your sides then your breasts. He always had a thing for your tits; he received pleasure from just seeing them cupped by his hands, loved it when it jiggled when he fucked you hard—the image of that alone popping in his head making him harder. Without delay then, he proceeded on going forth with your request, Jeongguk kneeling over you, both of his knees on either side of your shoulders, the tip of cock on your chin.

There was precum leaking on it, a sight that you salivated at. Jeongguk gave his shaft a few strokes, teasing you by gliding the end of his dick on your lips. “Shit,” he groaned when he indulged himself in finally pushing his cock inside your mouth, “that feels so good already, angel. Just like that—I missed that mouth.”

His thrusts were relaxed. He didn’t really want to rush. He gently ran his fingers through your hair and pushed all loose strands away, wanting to get a clear view of your face. You had your eyes closed and you were bobbing your head voluntarily to meet each thrust of his hips. At one instance, you let the tip reach the farthest it could go and you gagged a little, pulling back with a heavy gasp. Jeongguk stretched behind him and touched your clothed heat, feeling how soaked it already was and how just a light press brought a lengthy moan out of you.

“Fuck, fuck.” He cursed as he fucked your mouth faster, your hand palming his balls, though upon the last minute, once his cock was starting to pulsate and his balls were tightening, he pulled back.

You exhaled, some saliva connecting your lips and his cock, and Jeongguk kissed your mouth sloppily before he slithered down to stop right in front of your cunt, working faster now as he pulled your underwear off and dived right in between your legs, sucking and slurping on your clit with a profound determination. His groans and grunts added to the pleasure—you loved hearing him get so into the act of whatever it was that he was doing to drive you crazy—craved it at times even, his sweet sounds even staying in your mind after you were both done. Jeongguk spreaded your lips and spat right on them and went back in, growling.

“So sweet. I’ve been dreaming about tasting this pussy again,” he said, two fingers rubbing it as his tongue licked your clit. “I could drink you up all night.” He inserted the fingers right in your hole and you mewled, arching your back slightly at the movement, moreso as he rapidly pushed it in and out, all the while still sucking your bundle of nerves. It felt like it was going on forever; everything was so good and your toes were curling already in anticipation. He switched between fucking you with his digits and his tongue, your walls welcoming the muscle every time and giving him something to taste.

“Ah—holy shit, I’m close—” you grabbed a fistful of his hair— “fucking hell—I’m going to come.”

The usual thing that Jeongguk would have done was keep up with his speed until you were coming on his face, your juices right on his mouth, his chin, just everywhere—but he stopped, for he had already thought that if there was anywhere you would be coming on for the first time in the last five months, it was going to be on his cock. And so he pulled away and hauled you closer by dragging you towards him roughly with your thighs. You gasped at the sudden showcase of strength, Jeongguk dropping back over you to devour your breasts.

His shaft was pressing against your heat, so near that it was causing you to be more impatient. Jeongguk nibbled a bud and squeezed the other, noisy and so fucking erotic it was sending you off to another space. You couldn’t take it anymore; you tried rubbing your folds together on his dick.

“Fuck me, Guk—please, please,” you begged and cried. “I can’t—I wanna feel you so bad now.”

He stopped paying attention to your tits and looked up, his hair messy and his eyes completely dazed. He brought himself higher so your faces were in level and kissed you; you still tasted what’s left of you in his mouth. “You want my cock inside your pussy?” he asked.

You nodded hastily. “Want it, please.”

“Really? How much?”

“So fucking much.”

“Is that the best thing you could do?” His fingers wrapped itself on your jaw and he tightened his grip. It didn’t hurt, just made you steady—made you pay more attention to reality; he knew you liked it. “Beg harder for it, angel,” he said, looking straight in your eyes now.

You whined. “Please, please, please—I want it.” You marveled his chest, your palms appreciably massaging his pecs. “I want you to fuck me hard—want you to come in my pussy, fill me up so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” His fingers moved to your throat as he leaned back. “You want me to knock you up on our wedding night?”

“Jeongguk—please—fuck me, please.”

He dared to chuckle at the desperation. “Well, who am I to deprive my wife of what she wants, hmm?” He began to align his dick on your entrance. It’s been too long since his manhood was directly on your heat that even he shudders at the contact. “My beautiful wife deserves to be fucked good, doesn’t she?” It was obvious how the fondness of calling you his wife was already planted within him in the not even 24 hours of being married.

You were definitely not thinking straight anymore as he pushed it in. “Yes, yes, yes—” you moaned the words out in a chant, the stretch his cock does to your cunt compelling a louder cry from you in pleasure.

Jeongguk too was desperate. He fucked you fast and hard straight off which your slickness allowed him to do so without difficulty. His fingers that remained on your throat tightened in just the right amount, choking you in just the right way as he kept himself at a distance while he hovered over you. Jeongguk has always been a mix of aggressive and loving when it came to bed; it was either he was too aggressive or excessively loving, both that you didn’t have any complaints about. At the end of each ‘session’, he always satisfied you nonetheless and made you feel absolutely amazing—you never had one encounter with him that had you dismayed or upset after.

You were really getting close the more he rocked against you. You weren’t one too hard to be pleased—to trigger an orgasm from—especially if it’s Jeongguk we were talking about here, and given the five-month long of abstinence from sex to make this first night of the honeymoon extra worthwhile, you were too sensitive to hold back and control yourself from coming already. Jeongguk of course sensed that you were close, he groaned and growled whenever you clenched around his cock, your warm walls bringing him to the edge alongside you.

“You gonna come, angel?” He let go of your throat and was spreading your legs further, pushing and bending you forward. “Gonna come for me?”

You nodded, unable to speak, and he gave you one last hard kiss before he paused in working his hips to start lifting you up, erupting another whine from you for you were already there at the very last second when he did so, though you tried to make yourself as light as possible as he sat and made you sit on him, his cock not leaving your cunt. You got the hint and attached your mouth back on his, riding him in a fast pace instantly, continuing on where the both of you left on.

Jeongguk gave your ass a hard slap and gripped them firmly, bouncing you up and down on his dick faster. “That’s it, that’s it,” he grumbled, sliding his hand down to strum your clit, “that’s right, fucking use my cock to get off. That cock is fucking yours to use.”

You threw your head back and he used that as an opportunity to lavish on your chest, sucking and licking, and with the overwhelming sensation of his dick, the friction, the stimulation on your clit—in an abrupt snap, you came hard without warning, practically screaming his name as you did so, thighs convulsing uncontrollably, Jeongguk moaning too, cupping your face and dragging it close to his so he could kiss you and add to the pleasure you were experiencing.

You rode him until your thighs were aching and until he was on the verge of coming himself. Jeongguk urged you off him and turned you on your back when he was close, the side of your face falling on the mattress. He held your hips up, pushed your upper half down further, and fucked you senseless immediately, not wasting time, overstimulating your sensitive pussy but it was too good to ask him to stop.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good—so tight, don’t know how I fucking lived without the feel of this for fucking months—” he moaned and gave your ass another hard slap, the sound of it ringing in your ears and making you clench. Jeongguk cursed again at the action and bent down to press his chest against you, sloppy kisses given on your shoulders and neck. “I’m gonna come. Gonna come inside you.”

“Please,” you choked out.

“You too. Come with me, angel.”

“Guk,” you whined, your tone protesting.

He was ramming onto your harder, his hips going haywire, and his hand went under your bodies to caress your breast, fingers pinching the bud. “Please—fucking, holy shit—I know you can. I know you can come for me. You’re my good girl. My sweet—” he shoved his cock deeper, pulling back from the tip and then pushing it all in— “sweet, fucking, beautiful girl.”

It is when he did that previous movement for a couple of times and whispered more praises in your ear that you found yourself experiencing another orgasm the same time that finally he too came with a very audible groan, his thick seed spilling inside you and filling you up. He squeezed your ass harshly, nails digging on them a bit, and then he pulled out after a few more thrusts, eating your pussy from behind right after as if everything wasn’t enough. He groaned at the taste of his cum mixed with your juices; he felt blood rushing to his dick again at the arousing taste of it and the image of your swollen cunt a second ago with his seed pouring down.

“Guk,” you whined, “too… too much,” you said when it was really starting to hurt.

Jeongguk leaned his face away and calmed down, granting soft kisses on your buttcheeks, his kisses travelling upwards until he had you laying on your back again, his mouth back on yours. “I missed fucking you,” he declared explicitly and you had the nerve to laugh, the pit of your stomach tingling in agreeableness.

“Told you it was worth it,” you bothered to joke and Jeongguk chuckled, his breathing ragged but he was composing himself, raising his head and looking at you.

“You’re worth it,” he said.

Your heartbeat escalated—as if it hadn’t been beating fast enough with the events that just transpired—and you placed your palm on his cheeks, stroking it affectionately. “You too. I love you so much, Jeongguk.”

He nuzzled his nose against yours, smiling, endearing bunny-like features showcasing themselves; he appeared like a different person from the man who was just drilling your cunt a while ago. “I love you much more, my angel.”

“No, no, that’s unfair. No one gets to love the other more.”

“It’s true though,” he argued. “But I didn’t mean that as a way to compete with what you feel—I’m just saying I love you much more. Much more than I can always say.”

You squinted your eyes at him and laughed. “Okay, Dr. Cheesy.”

“You laughing at me?” He playfully grazed his teeth against your earlobe and you squealed, Jeongguk chuckling.

You smiled so wide that your cheeks hurt; you kissed him repeatedly, wounding your arms around his shoulders, sighing in peace and thanking the universe for setting you up with a man as extraordinary as your husband. He returned the gesture and the both of you continued to consummate your marriage again and again throughout the night, the passion and the intimacy undeniable as what should be expected with newly-weds who were deeply in love with each other.

That prevailed in the next few days to come. You and Jeongguk were going at it like—well, as you liked to describe him as—as bunnies. You two were practically never seen outside the hotel suite except for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, sometimes even skipping going to the buffet area and opted for room service instead. Though when all the oxytocin died down (there were still left, but controlled) and you weren’t taking the other’s clothes off in every chance that either of you could get, you went to the beaches and famous travel spots around the island.

There you had the opportunity to do all the things your busy lives couldn’t let you two do. Both of you went hiking to famous mountains, visited majestic waterfalls and caves—you and Jeongguk even went horseback riding where he showed you some serious skills that you don’t think you’ve had the chance to see before, and generally just headed to all the tourist attractions your itinerary contained. All throughout, you forgot about your life waiting in Seoul for a while, this honeymoon with Jeongguk proving to be an event that you most definitely wanted to recreate in the future if said life allowed you to.

“I don’t know if I’m aroused or disturbed,” Jeongguk whispered to you while you two stared at a sculpture of a man and a woman clearly having sex; the woman was doing some kind of handstand and the man was behind her, supporting her and quite frankly, had his penis inside her too. One of your destinations was the famous Loveland in Jeju Island, where apparently there was really a lot of R rated art involved all over the park just like what you’ve been briefed about.

You snickered. “Maybe we’ve been having sex too much that it’s not as exciting to see.” You tilted your head to the side to get a better look at it. The details amazed you.

“Absolutely not,” he disagreed with a scrunched forehead, gazing at the sculpture too in interest still. “Do you think we can do that position later?”

Your hand flew up to hit his chest at the sudden question, eyes widening. “Jeongguk!”

“What?” He was grinning already though. “Is it wrong for me to ask?”

“Can you not ask it at this second?” You laughed. Your face was already burning at just the thought of Jeongguk having you in that position.

“So, you’re down to do it then?”

“No,” you gave him a look, “and even if I was, I don’t think I can carry myself and be able to do what the lady is doing.”

He nodded as if he was in deep thought. Jeongguk was wearing a familiar button down polo that day, the same orangish yellow Fendi one you had teased him for when he first officially asked you out, and even in the five years that has passed, he still looked unbelievably delicious on it, his tattoos that have gained in number on full display and a new set of sunglasses hooked on the front of his top, tugging it lower than normal. “I mean, we can do it while on the bed, like without you doing the handstand.”

“You really want to try it, don’t you?”

“You mentioned us having sex and now you planted the idea, angel. It’s your fault.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes and looped an arm around his. “Let’s get out of this place before you get any more ideas.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a no, sweetheart.”

You still did it however—the revised version of course—that very night as well. You’ve concluded once more that there’s just no way you could ever resist Jeongguk the moment he begins working his charm. He knew exactly what to do to get what he wanted; you thought that it’s because he always got what he wanted too in the entirety of his existence that he was already a master in memorizing what people wanted to hear or see from him to make them do him the favor. At some point when you were just starting to get friendly with Jeongguk, you constantly teased him for being a spoiled grandson of the Don and he would retaliate playfully that you were a spoiled daughter too by your father. You had said that ‘okay, that makes us even then’, but you still thought that your level of being spoiled was no match to his.

Despite that, Jeongguk never appeared to be arrogant or entitled. He was raised well by his family who were the first to get a taste on how to slowly rise up to power by working diligently and then getting the eventual desired result. From what Jeongguk told you on the intimate nights you have shared before, his father introduced him to their business at a young age and taught him everything necessary to know, his knowledge increasing the same time his age did in due course. He studied overseas for college at the Don’s wishes, returned after he finished and got his degree, and met you officially a few months later when he entered your home with Inhwan. Since then and since you pursued a relationship with him, Jeongguk has never been anything but lovely. It caused you suspicion at first for you didn’t believe that a man your age could be that mature and that understanding, but Jeongguk was simply ‘built different’ that you later on went along with the fact that he was just truly extraordinary.

When the last four days of the honeymoon came in, business related calls were disturbing you and Jeongguk at random hours of the day. You had an associate you worked on a case with who was studying and running errands for you for the meantime, a minor real estate case that was going to have its first hearing in a month, and the topic he usually brought up when he continuously called or messaged you. Jeongguk, on the other hand, seemingly had more pressing issues with JSG; he was the President of the company after all.

You peeked out on the balcony where Jeongguk just answered a call. “Guk? The car we booked to that dining place just arrived. The driver’s already in the lobby.”

He glanced at you. His face was serious and he raised a hand up, a signal to ask you if you would wait. You nodded and pretended to let him mind his own business while you checked your purse if you’ve forgotten anything—you said pretended because even though you were doing all that, you stole subtle glances at his direction, his back facing you and the only view you had the opportunity to see through the glass door. However, his arm movements were still discernible and at the instance he suddenly brought a hand on top of his hair, distressed, head nodding vigorously, you were positive that he just received some kind of bad news.

You no longer hid how you were staring at him; you paused whatever it was that you were being busy with and waited until Jeongguk finished the call. As he did, he didn’t even bother putting his phone back in his pocket; he just raised the hand that was holding it to accompany the other one already on his hair before sitting down on the sun lounger with a motion that came out like he slipped. You didn’t think twice about marching out to talk to him.

“Hey,” you gently touched his back, “who was that? Anything wrong?”

Jeongguk looked up and your worry escalated when you got a glimpse of his tear-filled eyes. “He passed on, ____. Grandpop—he didn’t… he got another stroke and—Pop said he didn’t make it this time.”

“Oh my god—Guk, I’m so sorry.” You automatically engulfed him in an embrace and Jeongguk fully let himself cry in what felt like frustration, his face turning towards your neck where you felt his tears dampen your skin. You whispered words of comfort as he sobbed, rubbed his back and carressed the back of his head; Jeongguk showed you a newfound kind of vulnerability at the knowledge that his grandfather was no longer alive and made it apparent that you were going to be here for him and that everything was going to be okay.

You didn’t know the true impact of it—but the death of Don Jungsoo was definitely the last thing any member of the Jeon Family wanted, which meant unlike what you were murmuring, everything was not going to be okay.

━ CHAPTER V.

The trick with the wedding worked. Seokjin informed Jeongguk before he got in the car to the venue of the reception that there were for sure spies sent from the other prominent Seoul Families to oversee the ceremony. By that time, the associates would have already informed their Caporegimes and the Caporegimes would have already informed the underboss as well who would have relayed the message to their respective Dons. Jeongguk was glad to hear that, thankful that at least their efforts of arranging everything and marrying you quite early on than what both of you preferred didn't go to waste.

For the first week of the honeymoon, at early dawn when he woke up before you would, he’d shared a call with either Seokjin or his father. They included him in all business related transactions and heard his side to forward it with the Don when they discussed it with him. Don Jungsoo only approved or declined any plans they had or prepositions from other people they received, then Hanseo acted his demands out as the active underboss. Don Jungsoo was going to retire soon, the Godfather established it when he was restored to health, and wanted Hanseo and especially Jeongguk to be more concerned with the business now that he was a few steps away from officially handing over the business.

Though upon the Don’s sudden yet still foreseeable death, despite how they’ve been preparing for something as terrible as this to fall to the Jeon Family, Hanseo was still shaken to be deemed as the new Don of the clan and be the head of their syndicate. Even if he saw himself as adequate and intelligent enough for the position, Hanseo knew he wasn’t as great as the late Don Jungsoo to live up to his father’s shoes. Perhaps his son, Jeongguk, was more fit for it than he was ever going to be, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to bestow such responsibility unless Jeongguk was given no choice. For now, Hanseo had to do extremely good on his reign and prove to the members that he was deserving to be the Godfather.

Ultimately, Jeongguk took the death of his grandfather more badly than he thought. He was still rational and handled it the way Don Jungsoo would have wanted him to; however deep inside, there was a fire of hatred and anger burning inside of him that he only released in sessions at the gym where he boxed his frustration out, upset that Don Jungsoo’s passing had to happen when he was having the time of his life with you. He didn’t regret the honeymoon or wished that he had done anything differently in the last few weeks—it was just he didn’t understand why an unfortunate incident had to fall upon his Family when he thought things were beginning to go back to the way they were.

Jeongguk remembered how Don Jungsoo didn’t like the plan with the publicity stunt at the wedding when Hanseo informed him. He shook his head profusely, saying then that weddings are intimate ceremonies and should not be mixed with business; he said that he didn’t want his grandson to get married out of the blue just so they can show off his (then) improving health to the other Families.

“I was intending to marry ____ soon anyways, Grandpop,” Jeongguk reasoned. “Why not hit two birds with one stone?”

“You are?” Don Jungsoo mused. “You’re not saying that just to appease me?”

“It’s true,” Seokjin vouched for Jeongguk. “Guk’s been thinking about it even before we were planning this.”

The Don snorted and smiled, the first since a while. “Well, it’s about time. You need a woman like that in your life, Jeongguk. You don’t meet a lot of her kind these days.”

“I agree.” Jeongguk chuckled. “So, we’ll go forth with it, won’t we?”

The Don shrugged. “All I have to do is to not look sickly, don’t I?”

“Which I’m sure you’ll do fine, Pop,” Hanseo assured himself more than he did to Don Jungsoo. “Dr. Hwang said you’re improving. We’re going to plan the wedding and hold it as early as we can too.”

“Alright. Tell Inhwan not to spend a dime on his daughter’s wedding. I’m willing to pay for all the expenses.”

“That includes my share too, right?” Hanseo joked and the Don cracked another smile.

It did go on to be successful as they hoped. The Three Families that stood along them—the Lee Family, Yang Family, and Park Family—got the message that Don Jungsoo was well and managed to attend his grandson’s wedding in a great state. Operations continued to be quiet and the waging tension within the Mafia faltered as no one no longer questioned the health of Don Jungsoo, thus seeing the Jeon Family as credible once again. Of course, it wouldn’t have been too long as well before they all of the sudden hear the revelation that the same healthy man they were told about suffered a stroke while sleeping and no longer woke up.

“Let’s book the next flight back to Seoul,” you said after minutes of just holding Jeongguk in your arms. He was sobbing, his nose running and his head already thumping because of how hard he has been pouring his emotions out.

Jeongguk cried like a kid and he hated it whenever he did. It was not something he had control of though and he was just thankful that it was only you who had the chance to see him that way when he broke down after being called and notified by Hanseo. “Not yet,” Jeongguk replied, “I’ll, I’ll have to… I’ll have to call—”

“I’ll do it,” you finished for him, stroking his hair one last time and standing up to go back inside the room and get your phone.

He held your wrist; he looked a little disoriented to form his thoughts properly and his cheeks were still wet, his eyes glassy from sobbing. “No, ____, it’s best if—”

“I’m going to call my dad and he’ll be in charge of our flight back,” you cut him off again. “Or would you want me to call Seokjin instead?”

He stared at you, puzzled for a millisecond, but he was always under the impression that you already had an idea of what he and the Family truly did. You just didn’t confront him about it or made it too apparent that you knew something that wasn't intended to be known yet. Well, at least, not yet, you didn’t. “That would be better,” he affirmed your last statement. “But you should use my phone. This phone.”

You nodded and got the phone from his grasp before doing as said. Jeongguk was transparent to you early on that he used two phones; he used one for personal matters and the others for business affairs. Your number was on both devices.

Seokjin indeed handled yours and Jeongguk’s safe flight back. As you both arrived at the Jeon Residential Area—the place where the houses of the Don, Hanseo, Seokjin, and yours and Jeongguk’s were already built along with the other vacant ones intended for guests—there were a large number of men waiting for both of your arrival. Seokjin was there by the gate, a phone in his hand, talking to somebody else, though when he spotted the two of you getting out of the car, he rushed to end the call and walked towards Jeongguk, embracing the younger boy tightly with only one arm while he used the other to reach for you as well.

“I’m sorry the honeymoon was cut short,” Seokjin said.

“Jin, don’t be ridiculous, that shouldn’t be something to apologize for,” you answered.

“Grandma’s been crying for hours,” Seokjin said again, this time more to Jeongguk, “you two should go ahead and make your presence known.”

“You should go ahead, angel.” Jeongguk rubbed your back. “I’ll just talk to Jin for a bit.”

You nodded and walked to the front steps of the door. Once you entered and was out of earshot, Jeongguk turned back to his adoptive brother who had a melancholic expression. Seokjin’s eyes were a bit puffy and when he talked earlier, his voice was hoarse, meaning that like Jeongguk, he had been mourning over the death of the Don.

“Where’s Grandpop now?”

“At the mortuary. Your dad’s there with him and Inhwan and some members of his regime. They’ll be bringing him back in an hour or so or whatever how long it takes to get the old man ready. We’ll be holding the wake here in the house and they’re already preparing the space for it, some people are already cleaning it—the garden, that’s where it’ll be, yeah.” Seokjin appeared as disoriented as Jeongguk was in Jeju Island. “You have a cigarette, Guk?” he abruptly asked.

Jeongguk sighed at him. “No. I already quit, remember? I thought you did too.”

“Yeah, but I really need a smoke right now. All of this is making me crazy.” He sighed and glanced at some of the men who were nearby to where they were standing, one of them taking something from inside their jacket to reveal a cigarette box, Seokjin dashing to the guy and getting a stick, placing it between his lips and letting the soldier light it up for him. Returning next to Jeongguk again, he puffed out a smoke with a relieved breath. “Don’t tell my wife about this,” he told him.

Jeongguk grimaced. “I don’t need to. She’d smell it on you immediately. And seriously, Jin, you were doing well on not lighting a single cigarette for over a year.”

“Just one and I promise, I’ll stop,” Seokjin said and began speaking again, his previous sentence not taken seriously by himself. “I’m going to arrange a meeting with all of the Don’s important and political contacts after his funeral, one by one.” Seokjin got straight to the point. It was a time for grieving supposedly, but business doesn’t stop along with everything else when something terrible happens, and so Seokjin wanted to get it out the way as soon as Jeongguk arrived. “They’re going to be talking to Hanseo—I’ll be there too, of course, and so will you—and we’re going to see if they’ll remain affiliated with our Family. It’s best if we establish that early on and be clear where we stand. Without the Don, we’ll surely be losing half of our assets if Hanseo doesn’t convince them that they’ll still be gaining something from us.” He blew out more smoke.

Jeongguk watched it get lost by the windy night. “That’s good. We should keep the business going as it always has been. No need to make it a bigger deal than it really is. I mean, it is a big deal—we just don’t make it look that way to others, don’t make it seem like we’re lost or that we even think that the business is going to be hopeless from now on. It’s common sense and the obvious response but I wanted to reiterate it to let you know.”

“I get it. We can talk about that more when Hanseo gets home with the Don. We’ll discuss it too with Inhwan at the office.” Seokjin finished the cigarette quickly and threw it on the ground, crushing it with his feet. Though living within the Jeon Residential Area and accepted as an official member of the real Jeon family, he never once called the Don ‘Grandpop’ or Hanseo as his ‘Pop’. He always placed a barrier between himself and Jeongguk’s family but strangely cared for them like he was blood-related still. When it came to Jeongguk, he treated him like a real younger brother. “How are you, kid? Before I forget to ask and force you to go follow inside the house.”

Jeongguk chuckled halfheartedly. “I’m fine. I feel like shit. But I’m fine. You?”

“Likewise.” He snorted. “I’m just wishing that we’ll pull through this as smoothly as we can.”

They went inside after the short conversation and Jeongguk’s mood further deflated at the sight of his grandma in absolute tears. His mother, Yeonjin, was comforting the old lady and you were there doing the same, serving her with a warm cup of tea to soothe and calm her with Seokjin’s wife. Seokjin went to the kitchen to grab a mint and Jeongguk approached you four sat on the couch, going beside his grandmother and embracing her. He listened to her stories of distress, of how she loved the Don and has never loved another man in her whole life besides him. She said that though it hurt to have him leave earlier, she was glad that Don Jungsoo had passed in a peaceful death—in his sleep, and not by any means of violence, to which Jeongguk agreed to with a nod.

By 2:07 AM, Jeongguk’s uncles had arrived and they’ve taken his place beside the grieving wife of the Don who still couldn’t sleep until Don Jungsoo’s body and casket was placed at the garden and properly arranged. Jeongguk excused himself after giving his greetings to his uncles and subtly searched the house for you; he last seen you go upstairs where the bedrooms were with Yeonjin, and peeking at each one when he went upstairs to look harder, he saw you at one of the guest rooms, laying on the mattress though he was fast to notice that you had your eyes wide open to assume you were already sleeping.

He entered and purposely made enough noise to have you acknowledge him, and you did with a snap of your head to his direction, your eyes softening the second your gazes met. “Hey,” you said.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” He walked to the side of the bed where you were at. “Our luggages are back at our house, just so you know. We’d have to unpack but we can do that in the morning. The master’s bedroom is already ready though; you can sleep there for the night if you find it uncomfortable here.”

You slowly sat up and leaned back at the headboard. Jeongguk perched close to you and grabbed a hold of your hand on your stomach. “Aren’t you tired?” you questioned.

“I am.” He pressed his mouth together. “But I want to wait until they bring home Grandpop though. You should go to sleep, angel.”

“Why don’t you take a nap and I’ll wake you up when someone comes and finds you?”

“I think we both know better than to assume I’ll be waking up that easily with a nap.”

You chuckled. “I’ll kick you off the bed then if I have to.”

“I’ll wait with the others,” he said with a smile. “Besides, I haven’t talked to Pop in person. Haven’t seen Grandpop again either. I don’t want to wait too long for that.”

You nodded and fondled with his fingers. “Well, can you at least lay with me? For five minutes?”

Jeongguk chuckled, poking his tongue on his cheek before it was his turn to nod slowly, gesturing for you to move and give space for him. “For just five minutes.”

He laid down and wrapped an arm around your shoulders while you hugged his torso and pressed your cheek against his chest. You heard his fast beating heart, heard each breath he took, and the both of you said nothing for a short time. Jeonggguk ran his thumb up and down your arm and you played with the fabric of his shirt, the silence comforting yet daunting in an odd way for Jeongguk who abruptly thought of your actions back at the suite in Jeju. At that second, he was thinking if he should begin introducing the concept of the business to you—just a snippet of it—a vague description that would give you an answer but a lacking one for the events that would come. He could never explain the whole thing to you, the Cosa Nostra, unless it was the most ideal thing to do anyways; he stuck by their code and even if he didn’t, he didn’t want to stress you with the knowledge of what his Family did.

You managed to fall asleep in his arms and Jeongguk gently moved you to a better position on the bed before he kissed your temple, tucked you in, and left the room to go downstairs. It was 3:39 AM and he was sure that they were already arranging Don Jungsoo’s wake at the garden. His ears caught the engines of vehicles and the slams of the doors, followed by incoherent chatter and clicks of glasses that no doubt were shared by Caporegimes who fled from their territory to visit the Godfather.

“Guk,” Hanseo said when Jeongguk appeared from the staircase, “I’m glad that you’re here.” He was holding a glass of whiskey in another hand, eyes bloodshot and face looking older.

Jeongguk frowned as he walked towards him. “How are you, Pop?”

“We’re on our own now, Guk.” He ignored the question and clasped a hand on Jeongguk’s opposite shoulder. “I’m counting on you the most starting from now on. You got that? We have to keep the business running steady now that Pop’s gone.”

“Don’t worry,” he sighed, “we’ll sort it out.”

“I know, I know, of course, I do.” He drank the entirety of the glass in one gulp. “You’re my underboss now, kid. You’ve always been a strength in the Family—now I need you to divide your regime, your soldatos, to other factions—you’re going to be more hands on in this than you ever were.”

“Alright.” Jeongguk agreed. “I’ll do anything you want me to do. For now, you should stop drinking. You don’t want to get too drunk to entertain the soldatos and the guests that’ll go here. We have to talk too with Seokjin and Inhwan later.”

Hanseo nodded rapidly and to prove that he wasn’t going to drink more, placed the glass down on one of the tables in the living room with a rather loud thud. Jeongguk gave him a look but said nothing and just focused on striding to the garden where indeed the coffin of the Don was now situated. He inhaled deeply and watched the men from the funeral home organize the flowers and other necessary stands; his grandmother was also there, wiping the glass that enclosed Don Jungsoo in the casket that made approaching him harder for Jeongguk. Though when he and his grandma made contact and the old lady beckoned him to come closer like a child, he did and ashe saw him lying there, at peace and groomed in the best possible way, Jeongguk no longer found it hard to accept the reality of his passing, the thought that the Godfather deserved the long rest he had in stored now was enough to make Jeongguk feel better about it.

The wake of the late Don was attended by various personalities. The most controversial being policemen, judges, lawyers, prosecutors, and even politicians. Of course, the Dons of the other Three Families paid their respects as well, personally coming to the Jeon Residential Area and even going to the funeral afterwards when it was held a week after it. During that period, Jeongguk discussed with Hanseo and Seokjin repeatedly, sometimes including Inhwan at the meeting too. They handled everything needed to be addressed about the business; they went with what Seokjin said prior, which was talking with the contacts of Don Jungsoo and ensuring that their affiliation remained with the Jeon Family. Majority of them guaranteed that they’ll be honoring their friendship with the Don even after his death and that it can be counted on that their loyalty will still stand with their clan; the little others left though asked for understanding and some time to think about it for some organizations have also begun negotiating with them.

“It’s the Lee Family,” Hanseo said, sitting on the leather chair inside the office of Don Jungsoo; it felt strange to see him over there instead of his grandfather, Jeongguk thought, “they’re hoarding as much as they can. They’re trying to bring themselves to the top again. They even took the bait of Jang Yeocheol’s casino plans that Don Jungsoo didn’t want to take part in.”

“It’ll bring them more money, that’s why,” Seokjin said. “The casino will be used for narcotic operations. They’ve agreed to finance Yeocheol’s business and even pledged to protect him from the authorities with their legal contacts. It’s a logical route to go. Drugs are the leading commerce now, it’s being introduced in South Korea further; however, it’s the kind of filth Don Jungsoo didn’t want us to go with. He was already aggravated with the strip joints and all that when we caved into prosititution—drugs was the last thing he wanted to have associated with our Family.”

“Yeocheol will certainly want to talk to you again, Pop. He’ll want to restate and propose that we invest in him once more now that you’re the new Don. He’ll be hoping that you won’t have the same mindset as Grandpop and accept his offer this time,” Jeongguk told Hanseo.

“I wouldn’t want to go against one of my father’s last decisions.” Hanseo leaned back on his chair and sighed. “If Yeocheol arranges a meeting, we’ll entertain him, out of respect and courtesy. Ask a few questions too that we didn't get to ask last time for it was Pop leading. But we won’t dive into the business of narcotics, that’s already for sure. Do you have any objections about that, Consigliere?” He nodded at Seokjin.

“I’ll be honest,” Seokjin started off, “if it was Don Jungsoo who was about to get offered with it again, I would have said yes at this instance. Like I mentioned, drugs are the leading commerce these days, and I genuinely think it’d be good for us if we take a shot at it while it’s still slowly booming in the country.”

“But I’m not my father,” Hanseo supplied Seokjin’s reasoning early on and Seokjin nodded.

“You’re not, and we’re still at risk of losing some of our contacts and our legal defenses—one of them is even part of the Supreme Court and two are senior prosecutors. What Yeocheol wanted from us was legal protection, that was his main target, given Don Jungsoo’s connections and his power. So without that, I can only guess that his offer won’t be as grand as the last one. He’ll try to maybe it a little higher so we’ll bite, but the determining factor on how much we will gain from this is how much we will invest in the business still. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with that—it’s just that are we going to be comfortable with the fact that the Lee Family is going to gain more from it than we will?”

“I’ll go with you when he asks for another meeting,” Jeongguk said to Hanseo. “I’d like to hear his offers face to face again.”

“What happens when the offer’s good then? Do you think we should go for it?” Hanseo asked him.

Jeongguk shrugged. “I doubt it will be significantly better, or I at least doubt it’ll be better than the Lee’s. We’re going to be second in his priority list with that Family in the picture. But with the question of whether we should go for it or not, I’d like to reckon that we should. Let’s not involve ourselves with the operations though, it will be too risky for us, considering our state at the moment, but perhaps we should focus more on financing and a bit of what we could do for legal protection as an initial contribution to his business. Then we can see where it’ll take us or maybe we’ll just stick to that initial contribution, to honor what Grandpop’s would have wanted.”

Seokjin and Hanseo shared a look; the both of them were thinking of the same thing, Jeongguk had the same rationality, practicality, and leniency as his late grandfather. The way he even enlightened them with what he thought held the same aura as Don Jungsoo. “Okay,” Hanseo showed his approval with a raise of his eyebrows, “it’s time for us to wait for their move then.” He concluded their discussion at that note.

Another week passed and Seokjin received a call from Yeocheol himself, the man asking if he could arrange a meeting with the new Don of the Jeon Family just like what Jeongguk had predicted. Seokjin told him that he will contact him again after he forwards the message to Hanseo and within the next two days, the appointment was made to happen, Hanseo, Seokjin, and Jeongguk present at the private room inside a restaurant that Yeocheol booked for the occasion. There they discussed about the business, what Yeocheol wanted, what the Jeon Family would do and get if they partake in it, and at the end, Hanseo still declined as what Don Jungsoo did—the only difference was that Don Jungsoo was better with his words and better at appeasing the person he’s breaking the news on that the Jeon Family will not meddle with their affairs.

In Hanseo’s case, he didn’t possess that kind of ability, didn’t have a smooth tongue or the charm to win the favor of the opposing party despite his decision, and so when they left the venue, Yeocheol was mad and contacted the Consigliere of the Lee Family. He was going to make Hanseo regret his choice and withdraw it.

━ CHAPTER VI.

RMEC Law Firm was recognized to be one of the best law firms in the state. It garnered clients with high ranks in your society and housed lawyers at the top of their game, including you who was appointed as an associate in the two years you’ve been lending your service to the company. Don Jungsoo asked Seokjin to endorse you to the Chairman after you passed the bar exam and Mr. Kim, the mentioned Chairman, in respect and with the aim to give back to the Don’s generosity for what the latter has done to him before, gladly took you in and played a big part in boosting the early stage of your career by assigning you to their uppermost clients.

You have been so grateful to Don Jungsoo, you expressed your thanks by sending flowers that he liked to his main office and boxes stocke bread that he liked to share with his men, and it was well appreciated by the Don as Jeongguk told you when the both of you saw each other that very day, saying that the Don was glad to see such a gesture from you.

Now, it has been almost two months since Don Jungsoo’s death; things were going back to normal but at the same time, going off to another direction. His family no longer looked disheartened or grieved so openly like they did on the first days of his passing; they were more focused on maintaining the JSG Group’s reputation and business to still be caught up with their own personal stress of losing a loved one. From your husband’s words when you asked if he was truly fine, the Don would have wanted them to move on quickly and get on with life rather than mourn never endingly—so that is what they were doing.

Three knocks on the door to your office made you look up from the papers you were reading and when you did, your gaze fell on Jeongguk who had a hand on the handle and a handsome smile on his features. You returned the smile and marked the last page you were scanning before standing up to meet him halfway.

“You didn’t say you were going to visit,” you said with a chuckle, Jeongguk placing a paper bag on the long table you had in your space before stretching his arms out.

“If I did, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He embraced you and kissed you swiftly on the lips.

“Still, a warning would have been nice.”

Another kiss and he leaned away after, you instinctively glanced at the glass windows to check if anyone was there snooping. You had learned it the hard way when a couple of associates saw Jeongguk burying his head on your neck in mid-make out session and biting along your clavicle when he visited you in the past; that act of his became a hot topic for a solid month—how the extremely attractive and rich fiancé then of ____ was close to eating her alive in her office.

However, that wasn’t the reason why you were cautious at the moment. Aside from the teasing that you received from your co-workers when they heard the rather spicy incident, there were also questions that arose that time that made you uncomfortable and a little worried for they were clearly said with malicious intent about Jeongguk’s family.

“Is it true that he’s the grandson of the mobster?” a female junior associate of the firm asked you, bumping elbows with you while all of you waited for the President to arrive at the conference room. It was the perfect moment to bring such a topic up as all of the lawyers were there to curiously listen.

“He’s probably a part of it too.” Another one, a male and a few years older, reckoned with a chuckle. “It’s a family business when it comes to those things.”

They looked at you to wait for an answer but you only pressed your mouth together, an action that meant you were clearly going to keep your lips sealed and not give them the satisfaction of biting back. You were still considered a rookie within the respected lawyers sitting with you at the long table and therefore didn’t want to cause any fuss on your part.

“His family runs JSG Group, a shareholder of this law firm,” Namjoon, the son of the Chairman who also worked as an attorney in the firm, piped in nonchalantly in behalf of you and you turned your eyes on him along with the others there, “and I don’t think it’s good to conspire and gossip against a member of a major shareholder, Mr. Oh.”

“We’re not conspiring, Namjoon. We’re just joking and bantering here. Aren’t we, ____? Mobsters aren’t a thing now anyways. This isn’t the 1950s. It’s not like the Mafia is still here.” The former man grinned at you as if you were good friends.

You didn’t answer again; you just kept on staring at him with a blank face until he grew disturbed and was looking at the woman earlier for a supporting comment. She didn’t say anything too though, and the two of them settled uncomfortably on their seats and feigned innocence as they brought another topic to the table.

You smiled at Namjoon in thanks and he gave you a small nod, resuming his skimming on the folder in front of him. He was untouchable because of his position and influence in the company; you were glad that he was your senior when you were only interning in the firm.

In regards to what your two co-workers mentioned about Jeongguk’s family business, you decided not to concern yourself with it further by searching for answers. They didn’t try poking you around with their ill-natured remarks after the incident at the conference room; they left you alone pretty much the following weeks, avoiding you like the plague but you couldn’t care less to wonder why their approach to you drastically shifted. Deep down though, you were assuming that it had something to do with their stunt reaching the Jeon Family, particularly Jeongguk who might have heard what happened through Namjoon as they were friends themselves.

You already had an idea that the reason why Don Jungsoo was so respected and acclaimed was because of something related to that kind of occupation or involvement with affairs that weren’t exactly clean business; it explained why their family a lot of enemies, why a lot feared them, why majority sought for the day that Don Jungsoo’s empire would fall. That’s why you kept a safe distance from it all as well—because you didn’t know how you would react when you do confront Jeongguk about it and he verifies your theories. Just like what’s been happening since the late Don’s death; you were aware that something was going on within the business due to Jeongguk’s frequent bad moods and his late night departures. He has been busy for the past weeks and has been stuck with his father or Seokjin most of the time too—you noticed and acknowledged all of that but didn’t say a word about it. You’ve been in this kind of phase with your dad, wherein you wondered and got worried all the time, so you had a clue or two on how to live with it with forced ease and ignorance.

Jeongguk followed your glances at the windows and smirked. “Paranoid that someone will catch us again?”

You went back to him and snorted. “You really know how to read my mind.” You proceeded on walking to the paper bag where there were small boxes of take-out from your favorite dining place. “What’s with the surprise visit though?”

“Can’t a husband surprise his wife at work?” He snatched another kiss, on your cheek instead, and helped you in unpacking.

You gave him a look of teasing doubt, causing him to chuckle. Jeongguk was always sweet and loving, but he wasn’t one to think of surprises or gestures of affection like this for you to believe him.

“What’s with that look?” he exclaimed with a laugh.

“Oh, you know what this look means, sweetheart.”

He rolled his eyes, surrendering then. “Fine. I know I’ve been absent, alright?” he explained. “I just wanna make it up to you.”

You smiled. “That’s very sweet of you, Guk, but you do know that I understand that things have been busy right? You don’t have to force yourself to do these things just because of guilt.”

“They’re not just because of guilt, silly. I’ve been missing you too. I came here because I wanted to see you.”

Your smile widened to a grin. “So, does that mean you’ll be joining me here? You’ll eat this lunch with me?” You were hopeful now but he frowned right away. He has been absent a lot. You’ve spent many nights being able to fall asleep on the bed and not have him beside you.

“Uh, not now,” he sighed as he gave you the direct answer, “later though, I promise. I’ll join you for dinner—I’ll even cook for dinner and then you can have me all night.”

“Is that for real this time? You won’t run away while I’m taking your pants off because someone called?” You reminded him of what happened the other day when you two were heading to business and then he abruptly left you to take care of matters concerning the company.

“Yes, I won’t bail on you tonight.” He moved behind you, hugging you from there and encircling his arms around your waist. “Pop’s heading somewhere too and Seokjin has the same plans as I do, which is to obviously woo the wife. So, I swear, you’ll have me as much as you want, angel.”

You laughed, swiftly kissing his exposed cheek as he laid his chin on your shoulder. “Good. Also, now that you mentioned it, I think Dad’s going to be with Pop. I invited him for dinner first since he kept on saying he was feeling lonely with me not always in the house anymore but then he said he had plans tonight.”

“Dad has been guilt tripping me about that too.” Jeongguk chuckled. “He said that since I took his daughter away, he’s starting to know more about the rooms of the villa. Has he told you that he’s turning one of the guest rooms to a home bar?”

“Wow. He decides to do that the second I move out, huh?”

“It’s a fun concept. Just wish he had done it too when I had more reasons to go there.”

You snorted and Jeongguk grinned.

As you finished placing the take-out on the table and opening all the containers, Jeongguk made it known again that he wouldn’t be able to stay long and that he had to go; he had a meeting with a potential investor, he said, though he added as well that your dinners plan with him later will still go according to plan like he promised. You nodded and he gave you a long kiss on the mouth and on the forehead as an apology for going out so soon before leaving you alone to eat the delicious lunch he bought for you, which didn’t seem as appetizing as it usually was without Jeongguk to share it with.

At 7:31 PM, you were driven home to the Jeon Residential Area by your chauffeur. Arriving at the huge gate that secured the premises, you took note of the seemingly hundreds of men hired to guard the whole sector while the vehicle you were riding passed through. They doubled the security four days ago for a reason you didn’t know—and you didn’t ask, just mentioned it casually one time as a way of saying that you found it still concerning despite your indifference; Jeongguk assured you that it was nothing to worry about and it was just—as he always says—a precaution.

You thanked your driver as he parked in front of your home with your husband and bid your good night, hopping out and walking towards the front door. The car only left when you had closed the door and were taking your shoes off, the smell of familiar home cooked food blessing your nostrils that you hurriedly went to the kitchen to see what it was. You were definitely surprised to see Jeongguk behind the stove with an apron on the moment you stepped in, and you remembered a part of his promise where he claimed he was going to cook dinner for the two of you tonight.

“You really are cooking,” you said with an amused huff.

He lifted his gaze up and placed his spoon down. “Correction, I cooked. Past tense. I’m already done. You’re right in time.”

“Is it any good?” you teased; you marched forward to give him a kiss of greeting on the lips which he happily obliged to.

“Of course, it is. You insult me, angel.”

“I was kidding.” You swayed your hip towards his to set him off balance.

He chuckled and pinched your side as a payback that you whined at before he nodded to the dining table and turned off the stove. “Let’s set up the table and eat.”

“Okay.”

Among the other things that Jeongguk hasn’t been doing because of the past busy month was cooking, and it was because of that reason too why having dinner with the food he just cooked made the night a special one compared to the others in a while. He truly cooked better than you and was more useful in the kitchen. You were sure of that because unlike you, he grew up with a mother and a grandmother who taught him all the basics and guided him with the recipes he knew of today. You, on the other hand, mostly relied on YouTube video tutorials and did a lot of trials and errors on your own. It wasn’t until you and Jeongguk were getting serious that you began learning from Yeonjin to be a better cook yourself.

“What do we have for dessert?” you asked after swallowing your last spoonful of rice. What he prepared was delicious and fulfilling that you’ve been going on about how good it was while you ate, your husband’s ears reddening at the endless compliments. Not one to draw attention to himself for a long time though when it came to you, he’d ask you more about your day and open random subjects to get out of the limelight.

Jeongguk glanced at you; he still wasn’t done eating. “Each other.”

You kicked him under the table and he almost choked, startled. “You’re ruining my mood for good food, sweetheart.”

“Am I not good food?”

“You’re not even food.”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase that—am I not good to eat?”

You snickered and continued staring at him, the grin on your face remaining. He really was the most ridiculous man you have ever met sometimes. It was one of the qualities you loved most about him too though.

“There’s ice cream on the fridge,” he added shortly with a laugh and you thanked him immediately, standing up to get yourselves some mugs so you can start scooping for the both of you. He was in the middle of drinking water when the doorbell rang multiple times, sort of like in a frenzy, and he placed the glass down to attend to it. “I’ll get that.”

You watched him leave his chair and you went back to your quest. It was probably Seokjin who was ringing the doorbell at this time of the night, you thought, as he was the only one present in the Jeon Residential Area like you and Jeongguk were. This kind of circumstance happened frequently anyways that you didn’t even bat an eye as the sound of the doorbell echoed inside the house, you just assumed that it was his brother who wanted to talk to him urgently about god knows what. Though you can’t lie and say that you didn’t find the frantic doorbell ringing didn’t put you off guard even a little bit.

You were glad actually to have someone as close as Seokjin within the compound. It enabled impromptu lunch double dates with his wife who you were getting close with since you got engaged to Jeongguk. She was a beautiful and nice lady, only three years older than you were; she worked as a preschool teacher in a nearby school, which you praised her for because you don’t think you’d have the same exact patience as her when it came to kids to tolerate a job like hers.

“That son of a bitch!”

The ice cream scooper you held fell on the sink where you were washing it because of Jeongguk’s sudden booming voice and shout of profanity. You froze for exactly two seconds, time moving slowly, your heartbeat quickening, and with the wariness that was beginning to erupt in your system because of what you heard, you headed to the hallway where the front door was to see what the commotion was all about.

There you saw Seokjin hissing at Jeongguk, his hands firmly gripping his shoulders, his words inaudible and incoherent from the distance between you and the two of them; as you made your presence known, Seokjin’s eyes flickered to you and his eyes softened for a quick second, a look of downcast falling on his features.

“Hey, Jin,” you started it off casually, your voice unconsciously quivering at the nerves, “I thought you were off to woo the wife?”

Seokjin stared at you in a manner that you didn’t like. It screamed pity and guilt and sadness and the next thing you know, he was turning away from you in frustration, his hands on his hips as he faced the other side of the front door that was still open. You snapped your gaze to Jeongguk then and he was approaching you, his eyes glassy and stern; in each step he took, your heart dropped lower and lower, the uncertainty and the possibilities of what might have happened supplying frightening thoughts in your mind. It all came to a stop when Jeongguk carefully held both of your cheeks, his thumb rubbing your skin gently as if you were this fragile being.

“Guk,” you gritted your teeth, the anxiety was bubbling up too fast for you to handle; you’ve just been enjoying dinner with him, what have possibly gone wrong for the mood to shift like this? “what is it? Is everything alright?”

“Angel, listen hard, okay? I don’t want to repeat it again,” he said in almost like a hushed mumble. He knitted his eyebrows together, his tears piling up further—were they in sadness or anger? You weren’t so sure yet. “Pop and Dad got shot. We don’t have a definite lead on who might have caused it and now they’re in the hospital. But ____, Dad… your father… he didn’t—they couldn’t do anything anymore.”

Your heart was sent crashing down, you even think that you heard them shatter to pieces. His words entered your ears effectively but they weren’t processing well. You felt sick all of the sudden and your head was starting to hurt at this overwhelming want to sob, your eyes welling up. “What?”

Jeongguk gulped, his palms moving from your cheeks to your hair in an attempt to caress you in comfort. “He didn’t make it, angel. When they arrived at the scene, there was no pulse.”

“What? That can’t be true.”

“They did everything they could.”

“No,” you held on to his wrists, pushing him back, but he was strong and so he stayed holding you, “no, no, no, Guk—what? He can’t be—that’s not possible—it can’t be. I was just talking to him earlier—I even sent him a text while I was being driven home—” you were starting to hyperventilate, your tears running down. Jeongguk pulled you to his chest; you were thrashing and you were sobbing uncontrollably, the reality in which your father was dead was sinking in and causing your temples to ache further— “no, he can’t be—whoever told you that—it’s bullshit!” You looked up at Jeongguk, the way you looked at him was pleading, in defeat; your gaze was telling him that you wanted him to tell you the opposite, you wanted him to assure you that Inhwan was still alive. “Tell Seokjin—whoever it was that said, that said that—that said that Dad is dead—is a liar!”

He only stared at you in return, his own tears falling on his face. Inhwan was a prominent figure in his life as well, and to say that he was devastated and angry by the news would be an understatement. The sight of hum crying with you made you sob harder, his expression of loss and regret; it made your knees weak and your surroundings ringing deafeningly that caused Jeongguk to carry you in his arms better—it was getting impossible to breathe then and your vision was turning crucially blurry.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk whispered, embracing you tight, letting you sob hard on his chest, “I’m so sorry, angel. I’m so sorry.”

Before you could even think of replying, to demand an answer from him why he was apologizing, you passed out in shock of the overwhelming events, and Jeongguk caught you quickly, shouting at Seokjin who rushed back inside to get you. Together they carried you to the living room sofa, Jeongguk ordering Seokjin to get a glass of water while Jeongguk called Yeonjin if she could come to your household and take care of you. His mother agreed, already aware of the unfortunate event, and after they said their assuring words to each other, Jeongguk hung up and waited until you woke up.

As you did, your eyes blinking and brimming with tears once more, he kissed your forehead and stroked your hair. “I’m going to take care of this,” he said in a promise. You were coming back to your senses and you were remembering what your father suffered from. “I’ll handle this. I’ll find out who did it and, and—I’ll kill the bastard myself.”

You were still groggy and disoriented but you understood his statement perfectly. You gazed at your husband and saw now a new guise being shown on his face; it was familiar and foreign all at the same time. You’ve seen him aggravated before, have seen him being so frustrated when things didn’t go his way—but this right here… this dangerous and angry bearing he had, it was a totally different expression that you haven’t had the chance to see in the past decade of knowing him. It scared you and it urged you to think about Jeongguk’s well-being more than the horrible news earlier for a split second. “Jeongguk…” you whimpered.

“I’ll kill him.” His jaw was clenched. “I’ll make him regret what he did, angel. I promise.”

“Guk…” you breathed out and tugged on his forearm. He looked at your grip and allowed you to pull him towards you, to wrap your arms around his neck to cry some more. He sighed against your neck, whispered his apologies over and over again though with no explanations why, and when you decided to finally respond to what he was telling you, Jeongguk stiffened in surprise, not expecting that you would request such a thing, especially at your state, but who was he to judge and deprive you of the opportunity? So, nodding and kissing your cheek, he agreed.

You just told him you wanted to kill the man who did the shooting incident that led to your father’s death yourself, and indeed that was going to be what Jeongguk would enable you to do.

━ CHAPTER VII.

The bastard’s name was Lim Sehyung, a man who was an associate for the Lee Family. He was known to be precise and attentive to what is being asked of him by the Caporegime he was under, and for his latest assignment, he was to shoot the Don of the Jeon Family as a threat from the Lee clan that meant Yeocheol, who was under their wing, meant serious business.

To do that successfully, he followed the pattern of Hanseo’s whereabouts, he bribed a dishonest Mafioso within the Jeon clan, and offered the person more money if he gave the information that Sehyung needed. In only two weeks after his Caporegime told him of what he needed to do, he executed and met the unsuspecting Don Hanseo while he was leaving a restaurant with his Caporegime, Inhwan. He shot the Boss three times, all in the parts that wouldn’t be fatal because his death was not what the Lee Family wanted yet, but he wasn’t as merciful to Inhwan who he showered with bullets and who fiercely fought back, shooting even the latter’s forehead for a safety measure.

Within the two weeks after he committed the crime as well, the same Mafioso he bribed would be forced to reveal Sehyung’s identity as the soldato of the Lee clan who did such a terrible act—the said mafioso was beaten until he spilled the beans when Seokjin received the tip that he was was the one who sent the details of Hanseo’s frequent whereabouts to Sehyung, and when he did confirm that he was the one who betrayed his Family and conspired with Sehyung, in Jeongguk’s rage, he personally sliced the mafioso’s tongue off, asking Yoongi, who was the reserve Caporegime of Inhwan’s faction and was the acting one upon his captain’s death, to send the piece of muscle to Sehyung as a warning that they were aware of his doings and that he would be next. As Yoongi agreed and got to business, Jeongguk shot the mafioso with one bullet to his brain.

That was one of the few times that Jeongguk’s anger got the best of him. Because of the Lee Family’s schemes, his father was in the hospital trying to recover from his bullet wounds and his wife, you, just lost her father; to top that all of, he was now hailed as Don Jeon, the head of their syndicate with Hanseo’s bad condition and his uncle who didn’t have the wits to lead willingly giving the title to him. Jeongguk accepted the responsibility right away as soon as Seokjin informed him of the shooting, knowing that it was him who was supposed to help his late grandfather’s empire rise up again, and even that was a hard task on its own, what he found harder was breaking the news to you that night when your dad was murdered.

Inhwan was cremated after you visited his body at the morgue. Jeongguk was there with you when you did, and he took note of how you only hugged and sobbed against the lifeless body of Inhwan; you didn’t pull the sheet away from his face to look at him for one last time. When Jeongguk asked you about it as gently as he could, you told him that you didn’t want your last memory of your father to be of an unrecognizable dead man’s face who was killed without mercy.

Your answer made Jeongguk angry again though he had more control of his temper by that time and knew he had to be logical now in the steps he would be taking in the future. Amidst all the noise and the tabloids spreading more dirt about the Jeon Family because of Hanseo’s misfortune however, Jeongguk never heard one question from you about it or at least an answer why your father was involved with the mess and had received the most lethal blow. He knew then that you knew of what he did and what his Family was capable of; he guessed that he should have known anyways because of what he said on the couch the night the two men were shot and what you said in response to his proposal.

Seokjin helped you with the legalities regarding the winery. He was the one who pulled the strings and transferred all the entities to your name. It wasn’t a hard task and a big deal since you were married to the Chairman—Jeongguk was now the acting Chairman as well—so, just like that, you were appointed as the new CEO to lead the wine company.

“Guk,” you murmured to him before sleeping, two days before you would meet the man who arranged the demise of Inhwan, “promise me you’ll always be safe.”

He exhaled harshly, pressing his mouth on the corner of your lips. “I promise, angel.” It was a white lie. In the business, he could never be safe, but he would try to do better from that on just for you.

“You’re the only one I have now.” You told him that in a showcase of vulnerability and your voice trembled as you did. “I can’t afford to lose you too.”

“You won’t.” He ran his fingers through your hair, lulling you to sleep for it was only then he’s able to leave you to the care of his mother. “I’ll always be here. I won’t go anywhere. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You cracked a smile, though a tear also fell out of your eye in that instance and he held you in his arms again until you were truly asleep. He left you in his mother’s safe keeping, hugged and assured his mother too that everything was going to be fine, and left that night to go to his grandfather’s house where the main office for operations was still organized and discussed with his Consigliere, Seokjin.

There they devised a plan that would be soon the prominent factor of why a war between the Four Mafia Families of Seoul would commence, the infamous bloodshed making it to national television as men were found dead on the streets and institutions were burned to the ground—and alongside that plan was the objective of being the winning syndicate out of the four, the strongest Family to be glorified and recognized, a ploy that would also be successful in months to come thanks to the combined ruthlessness of Jeongguk for their enemies and Seokjin’s intelligence that contributed to their excellent strategies.

His prime concern for now was having Sehyung pay for what he did to Hanseo and to Inhwan. On early Monday morning, Jeongguk had the solution for that problem as Yoongi called him and informed that they had taken Sehyung into captivity. He was pleased and impressed that Inhwan’s reserve Caporegime was truly competent to do the job right; he told Yoongi that he would receive a great sum of money for his adequacy and relayed to him all the details on where to bring Sehyung and what to do with him for the meanwhile.

“You think ____ can do it?” Seokjin asked him a day before Sehyung’s murder. They were lounging in the office, at their grandfather’s den, having just finidhed talking to some men over the phone to carry out their plans.

“Do what?”

“Kill someone.”

“I don’t know.” Jeongguk shrugged and brought his glass of whiskey to his lips; despite his nonchalance, he was greatly worried about you. “____’s capable of anything as long as she puts her mind to it.”

“Yeah, but killing someone, Guk. That’s a whole different story and you know it.”

“I won’t force it on her. I’m just giving her what she wants—if she decides not to do it, I’ll gladly finish the job.”

“You sure she wants that? She wasn’t just acting out of her emotions that night?”

“I asked her a couple more times after that night and believe me, she’s… she really wants to do it.”

Seokjin nodded in understanding and Jeongguk, who knew where his brother was coming from, made sure you were still 100% on board with your idea on the day he was going to bring you to the warehouse where Sehyung was already beaten like a pulp, like the soldato he trusted and conspired with, already on the brink of death and the only thing keeping him from hell was the bullet you were going to shoot.

Jeongguk knew you weren’t one to be squeamish easily, but if you were to see someone being beaten and kicked over and over, pieces of their flesh flying everywhere, he wasn’t so sure if that was still going to be the case; that’s why he opted not to let you watch the bastard get beaten in front of your eyes.

“You sure you want to do this?” Jeongguk questioned as you both got out of the vehicle. The warehouse you were walking on was a favorite torture place by the Jeon Family; it was only natural that Sehyung was going to be executed here. “I’m giving you an out right now. I’ll send you home with Seokjin and I’ll do it.”

“No.” Your expression was serious but your tone was uncertain. “I need to do this.”

“You don’t need to do anything. If you’re doing this because you think Inhwan would have wanted it for you—”

“Why else would he have taught me how to use the gun?”

“For self-protection,” he replied coolly.

You glanced at him, your eyes wary and yet determined, and he held out his hand. You sighed, taking it, and he led you to the doors where a couple of his men were there along with Seokjin, Yoongi, and of course, Sehyung who was tied in a chair. Stepping past the entrance, he caught a clearer sight of the bastard’s face and saw that it was almost indescribable by how much they’ve assaulted it; from the way your hold tightens on his hand, Jeongguk knows you were seeing it too.

“You sure you want to do this?” It was Seokjin who asked you that again while he approached you two, a gun ready in his hand. “Have you ever held one of these things before, princess?” He teased you.

“What do you take me for, Jin?” You had the nerve to chuckle.

“I’m just making sure you know what you’re doing,” Seokjin said, handing the gun not to you at first, but to Jeongguk. “Can’t turn back time once it’s been done.”

“He’s right,” Jeongguk agreed. “One last time, angel. You can back out now and I’ll do it.”

“I want to do it.” You gritted your teeth together. “I thought you were going to let me do it?” You were staring at Jeongguk with a hard gaze.

He returned your stare; he was analyzing every feature on your face, trying to detect anything that would give off your reluctance. Seeing none, only your frustration, your glassy eyes, and your pressed lips, he picked your wrist up and placed the grip of the gun on your palm. “Safety lock is still on. Do as you like then.”

You huffed out a breath and strode forward to where Sehyung was situated. Jeongguk followed but stopped at a distance to give you your space, Seokjin following beside him and halting at the same time, copying his movements. Together they watched you stand a few centimeters away from the man who shot your father, your arms raising and the gun you’re holding being pointed at Sehyung immediately.

Sehyung sat there immobile. His eyes were opened but you could barely see that they were because of how swollen it appeared. His whole face was a bloody mess and so was his body, streaks of blood shown on his clothes and some still pouring from cuts on his skin. As he noticed your presence before him, he lifted his head up, smiled mockingly, scoffed—and then with every last bit of strength he had, he spat blood beneath your feet and chuckled.

It was in that second, when Jeongguk thought you were finally brave enough to pull the trigger as soon as possible, that your hands began shaking, the breath you let out quivering as if you were cold. It was the least of what he was expecting from you—he reckoned that you would have shot the man at exactly the instance a droplet of blood landed on your shoe in irritation of what Sehyung still had the guts to do—but it made you react the opposite, made you second guess your actions and hesitate.

“Whaing ait yor ating fore?” Sehyung’s speech was gibberish as he taunted you, a large number of his teeth no longer in his mouth and his consciousness was fading out slowly. “Kill me, you bitch!”

Jeongguk gazed at you from behind, waiting like the rest, his fist was formed beside him in anger of what Sehyung uttered but he controlled himself to give you your chance—to give you what you asked him to. Everyone present anticipated your next move, to see the wife of the Don commit the same grave sin they have to be a made man. However, when the sound of your scared whimper entered his ears instead of the fire of a gun, when he saw your composed stance loosening and your feet staggering back because of the intimidation of your father’s killer, Jeongguk dashed forward automatically, threw the promise he made to let you shoot the man far off his mind at that instance, and positioned himself behind you, one of his hands on your shoulder and one on both of your hands that were holding the weapon.

You had all the nerve and the determination in the world for a lot of things; you studied law, you handled pezzonovantes as clients, you managed to be with Jeongguk even on the days you knew there was serious danger lurking around him and his family—but out of all the things you’ve been brave for, you certainly couldn’t do it for this one, and Jeongguk didn’t want you to go forth with something you obviously weren’t ready to do. He realized then at your reluctance and frightened state that he didn’t want you to get blood on your hands, to be responsible for another person’s death. You were one of the few glorious things in his life, the guardian on his shoulder that reminded him of the goodness still in this world, and he wasn’t going to change that just because of what you thought you wanted to do.

Ever so gently, he took the gun from your grasp and moved his palm from your shoulder to your eyes, covering them, using it to turn you around until he pulled you to his chest. There you sobbed, latched onto his shirt, and whispered apologies for not being able to get on with but Jeongguk didn’t mind them, he was focusing on holding the gun properly with one hand to assure you that you didn’t do anything wrong, the best he could do was just shush you in comfort.

“It’s okay, angel,” he mumbled, his hand on your eyes moving to the back of your hair, caressing it while he continued to shush you like a baby. “I’ll do it for you.” He pressed a kiss on your temple.

As the last syllable flowed from his mouth, he didn’t prolong it any longer and shot Sehyung twice—one on the head for what he did to Inhwan and the other on the mouth for the foul name he called you. You flinched in his arms at the booming sound, much more because of the sudden drop of Sehyung’s chair backward at the force of the bullet lunging in his brain, and Jeongguk calmly handed the gun to Yoongi who was waiting by the side to get it from him.

At the same time Jeongguk shot Sehyung, a soldato of the Jeon Family shot the underboss of the Lee clan while he was exiting the golf he frequented in at another location, and while that was taking place, another also gave Jang Yeocheol the taste of his own medicine under Seokjin’s orders for planning such treachery to the Jeon Family. Those murders would erupt the war between the Four Families of Seoul and would force Jeongguk to urge his Family (and all his loved ones) to go to the mattresses with him to protect themselves from the awaiting bloodshed from the rivalring organizations.

“It’s done,” he said.

You exhaled, nodding, and instead of being repulsed for witnessing Jeongguk murder a man in front of you like he abruptly feared as the bullet went through Sehyung’s forehead, the thought occurring to him that he has shown his worst side to the woman he loved, you embraced him tight and took heavy breaths to calm yourself. It was then that Jeongguk vowed to himself that he will never let you see him kill or harm another man ever again.

He was positive now that you were absolutely certain of what he could do, what his Family was capable of, and how much power they truly possessed. For the months to come, he would have to be more transparent to you than he has ever been before to keep you safe and to assure you that he too was going to be safe. The War of the Four Families was going to be the reason why you would be the first lady to join the Mafia in the Jeon Family, joining hands with Jeongguk and Seokjin as the three of you bring your clan back to the summit.

“Thank you,” you murmured and he looked down at you, strange to hear your gratitude considering what he did to obtain it. He was still expecting you to run away or to at least stare at him with disgust. The only thing you did was keep him closer to you, not wanting to let go.

He smiled and kissed your hair. Jeongguk was going to look after you until his very last moment on earth, both for his sake and for the sake of your late father.

“Anything for you, my angel.”

THANK YOU FOR READING & FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED ! ♡(ˆ‿ˆԅ)

tagging: @mercurygguk @fan-ati--c @moonchild1 @unicornbabylover @shameless-army @1-800-seo @fancystrawberrynerd @dreamamubarak (striked means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag them !)

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook x reader #btsghostie #jeon jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfiction #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts mafia au #jungkook mafia au #btswritingcafe #btscreatorscorner #kpop fanfic #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook #bts

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messwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

POISON AND PLEASURE

Osamu Miya (Post-Time Skip) x Mob Boss! Female Reader

“Backed into a corner, Osamu makes a deal with the devil -- you.”

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: oh boy. Dub-con (Osamu does consent, but it is coercion); MANIPULATION AND EXTORTION; slight gun play, lasts for a moment; Rough sex; Hate-fucking; Degradation/Humiliation; Spanking, also just for a moment; Oral sex, fingering; Orgasm Denial; Choking; Violence; Dash of corruption and prey/predator; Deep throat; Facial. Fucking in a kitchen/public place. Also, just in case, toxic relationship and money talk (lol).

Word count: 9,889 (such a nice number)

A/N: Oh, this has been a ride. This is my contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel, @pleasantanathema and @linestrider. I’m very excited to participate, since it is my first collab and they are my (home) first server. Big, huge, gigantic thanks to Lauren (my wife) for reading this over and beta-ing for me. <3

Well, Osamu fuckers unite! :insert elmo fire: (i’ve been on discord too much)

Osamu gets up from his seat inside his small office, looking from the small window on his door inside the already closed restaurant lit only by the lights that come in through the windows, the time being well after closing. Shady deals are mostly done late at night, he thinks. Right as he’s leaving the office and closing the door behind him with a key, the movement outside catches his eye and Osamu turns just in time to watch as the black BMW sedan of the year quietly comes to a halt right in front of his store. He frowns, knowing who that means. He'd much rather deal with the soldier responsible for his loan initially than with you.

Two men emerge from the front doors of the car, one immediately heading for the passenger door while the driver checks the street; they exchange a small nod before the man on the side of the sidewalk opens the passenger door and when he does, he positions himself behind it and immediately out of the way. Osamu could be intrigued by the action if he didn't feel so represented by it - he, too, would prefer to always be out of your way.

There’s power in the way you move, ingrained in your body as you descend an expensive white heel onto the concrete beneath you on the sidewalk, the other following suit while you propel yourself out, holding the frame of the car for support. It’s late at night and the street is fairly dark, but your simple presence, clad in an impeccable white suit with a deep neckline showing immaculate skin, is enough to brighten the place. There’s an elegant, expensive-looking and equally unnecessary coat draped over your shoulders and your hair was flawlessly styled.

You draw attention as the color black absorbs light-- from all and everything. Maybe it is because of your soul, he muses.

Once you were standing outside the car, your driver marched to the door of the onigiri restaurant, holding it open for you while you strode inside, heels clicking on the pavement, the sway of your hips something Osamu may think beautiful to watch if it weren’t you.

“Hello, Miya-san. Hope you have better news for me this week.” You state as cheerfully as you can, calmly entering the establishment in a glory of white. You shed your coat once you passed the door, the driver catching it while the second man seemed to survey the outside area a little more before entering.

"Hi." Osamu extends his hand with the brown envelope. But you go around him and walk to the counter, calmly sitting down on one of the high stools while absentmindedly looking around his small restaurant.

“I missed my lunch today, so I hope you don’t mind me grabbing a bite before I leave.” You don’t look at Osamu when he doesn’t move for his place behind the counter immediately.

“We’re closed.” He says and you turn around just momentarily, piercing eyes on his profile. One of your men is still by the door and the look he gives the twin is also very compelling. Osamu feels his teeth gritting against the pressure he makes to shut his tongue. "Sure."

One of the goons comes closer and takes the brown envelope from his hands, without you even looking back as the burly tattooed man sits in one of the booths and starts counting the money.

“So, how’s business? I’ve heard you had a hard time these last two months.” You try to make small talk while checking the menu over the counter, carefully done nails threading along the restaurant menu. You only press a long nail against what you want and slide it to him, the 18K diamonds on your small and discreet Cartier watch and matching trinity ring on your finger catching more of his attention than your watchful eyes. Your jewelry is discrete, tasteful, and still amounting enough to buy the whole building where the Onirigi’s shop is located. Osamu's throat moves around nothing in reflex.

"Isn’t it obvious?" He grumbles while working against the counter, starting once he cleans his hands on the sink. He’d like to say his eyes keep diverting to your neckline because of your shining jewelry.

"So rude, Miya." you chuckle. “And I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Didn’t you pay for your little plumbing problem with my money? Is it only dirty to you once I’m present?”

"I don’t like people like you." Osamu doesn’t beat around the bush. And once he’s done with this payment he’d be completely free of you anyway, he doesn’t feel the need to pretend.

“Like me? You mean kind? All I ever did was help you out in a time of need.”

Osamu’s snort is disrespectful. The big man by the door moves but a simple turn of your hand in the air has him standing back, carefully looking down on Osamu, but unmoving. The other’s still counting the money rather calmly, the booth he’s seated unseeable from the shop window.

“You see, disrespect won’t take you far.” You say offhand, your watchful eyes on Osamu’s every move but with no real worry. You don’t trust him, but you know he’s not stupid.

"I don’t plan on it." He answers you after a beat, finishing wrapping the Salmon onigiri, disposing it carefully on a plate, and depositing it in front of you, accompaniments arranged around. Osamu doesn't use the fact that he doesn't like you as an excuse for a half-ass job; he's not the type, which is refreshing. Is what you like about him.

“Get started on a few others. I trust your recommendations.”

Osamu chooses to work quietly, in silence. You, however, are happily chatting away at his high stool as if this is just another day of bullying patrons. Maybe, for you, it is.

“You work very diligently.” You observe, eyes trailing from his toned arms to his deft fingers diligently working on the rice ball. He’s fast and experienced, rolling the nori around the triangled shaped steamed rice after successfully filling it with whatever he chose. Osamu just grumbles out something, or tsk, even when the way you look at his fingers takes an unexpected appreciative turn.

“Maybe I should have you working overtime more.” You muse when he finishes the new onigiris and carefully places them in front of you. Osamu eyes you nastily, clearly displeased at your comment, which makes your lips split in a bigger smile despite your teeth closing around the rice ball. Even so, you’re pleasantly surprised by their flavor.

“See, this is why I like you, Osamu.” The man frowned at your loose use of his first name, the way it rolls off your tongue so nicely. “You always deliver good work.”

“It’s my job.” Osamu retorts, unamused. “I do it right even if it’s for…” He catches his tongue right in time, his eyes catching movement from the man seated down at one of the tables, almost biting his tongue in the process. “--people like you.”

Osamu watches while the burly man with tattoos moves discreetly despite his size, bends down so his mouth can be on your ear level, and murmurs something to you that he doesn’t quite catch. Your steely eyes are momentarily looking down when they blink and fly back to his face, a deep, blank stare that makes Osamu’s brows furrow. His back becomes straighter, a gripping feeling in his gut that triggers his fight or flight.

He presses the urge down - tells himself he doesn’t have anything to fear.

He’s looking down at you, but Osamu feels small under your steady glare. Which in reflex, after several years of being stupid in pair, makes him want to act up.

"Seems to me you forgot some money, Miya."

"What?" His shocked tone is harsh and his eyes dart between you to the two men behind you, looking as steady as his walls and just as broad. "I counted it twice, everythin’ I owe ya ‘s there." His accent comes out pretty hard when he’s agitated.

"You only have fifty thousand here."

“I owe ya fifty thousand.” Osamu deadpans, almost sneering. “What ’re ya sayin’?"

“No, Miya. Fifty thousand is what you owed me two weeks ago.”

"You gave me an extension." He argues, brows furrowed.

"Exactly. I never said anything about the interest.”

"What?"

"You forgot the interest." You talk to him as if he’s a child, lips turning upwards at his confusion. Osamu has the gut feeling you’re enjoying every second of this. Every little moment of his deep discomfort. “You were informed about them when you accepted the loan, you know how they work. If you don’t pay on the due date, 10 percent interest each extra week you remain in debt.”

"Are you telling me I'm missin’ over 10K in interest rates?

"Yes." You say, smiling while tilting your head sideways, analytical. "Because you are."

“I'm paying you back,” Osamu grits through his clenched teeth, almost as if he’s willing it to be true, “Everything I owed ya is there. ”

"Not quite. You’re paying me back about--” You smile and press your lips in thinking, eyebrows furrowing while you calculate on your head the exact number. “-- 82 percent of what you owe me.”

Osamu’s fists close, veins bulging while his heart picks up with the adrenaline rush of a fit of rage. Aggression flows on his body to the point where his entire frame trembles. His teeth are clenched, tightly forced together by his pressed jaw. His brain cannot reason beyond the need to vent that outrage, and with every second he spends looking at your pretty-faced indifference sitting in front of him at the counter, his outrage slowly merges into fury. Osamu stares back at your emotionless eyes, turns, and walks two strides before burying his fist in the nearest plaster wall, the pain grounding him, soothing his nerves.

Pain is familiar -- what Osamu doesn’t like is to feel so deranged.

"Fuck!" He exclaims loudly but still controlled, turns his broad back to you, breathes deeply a few times, and then settles. You watch in delighted silence as he moves to the freezer, grabs an iced pack of random food, and puts on his busted knuckles, his eyes on the hole he left on the wall; The twin sighs audibly, then walks back while coldly regarding you and your two watchdogs who look over to him carefully, almost startled.

You, however, didn’t even flinch.

"So how much do I still have to give you?"

“I think the better question is: Can you pay?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Osamu grumbles out, his clenched jaw working over grinding teeth.

“That’s not how this works, Miya.” You tell him, your spine regally straight on the high seat as if it is your throne. Your lips move around the next word with malice. “When.”

“I--” Osamu stops to think for a moment, coldly calculating his financial situation. He has no way to withdraw money from the main branch to try and cover the losses of this branch, that would be simply stupid. There is no way for him to borrow money from Atsumu, who doesn’t know the concept of savings; Kita can not help him with such a great amount and he can’t recur to his poor parents. He also doesn’t want to resort to a bank at all, which doesn’t leave him many options. A new extension raises interests and he doesn't think he can do it beyond the amount he would need to add. Osamu's chest slowly fills with dread - he knows what’ll come if he doesn’t pay and he refuses to let his business become a Mafia parlor.

You watch Osamu slowly and quite meticulously calculate his options while engrossed in reasoning his dreadful situation; it’s thrilling, you almost can’t hide the contentment blossoming in your chest at his desperate situation.

His expression shifts and turns sour, before slowly building back his blank façade but it’s too late, you already know his conditions and capacities - it’s your job to know. And you pride yourself in never making bets, just assuming calculated risks, so Osamu is right where you wanted him to be.

You do suspect the black-haired male is the same, that disinterested stare in his handsome face nothing short of sharp, his aloof behavior making every second of rilling Osamu up to this manifestation of discomfort all the more delightful. His only problem is that the man plays by rules you don’t. And what you want, you take.

“I’ll need an extension for the rest.” He finally says, so absolutely angered it’s almost a curse. Even the hostility in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine, all the hairs on your arms standing on edge while your insides slowly melt, fed by the images in your brain.

“Really?” You playfully answer, faked surprise not made to convince anyone. Osamu seethes in place, labored breathing making his chest move up and down. “See, now I can’t help you out. I told you disrespect would only take you so far.”

You get up from your seat, a show of touching your expensive black plump Louboutin on the ground. “I can’t let you out like this, not when you did such a show of being… rude.”

“What do you want.” Osamu almost spits at you once you’re rounding his counter, entering his space, closing on him. But he holds himself in place by pressing his nails hardly against the inside of his palms.

“First, some respect.” You sultrily say at him, much as a viper luring its prey. It rolls off your scarlet lips while you look up at him from your long lashes and perfect face. It makes Osamu want to wreck it.

“I don’t respect you.” He says in undertone since you’re close, sounding much like a hiss.

“Doesn’t seem like a smart thing to say to someone to whom you owe so much.” You purse your lips, fake pout. “And you seem like a smart man, Miya. Or am I wrong?”

Osamu blinks, brows furrowing while he looks down at you, his mind working.

“Where are you going with this?” He eyes you warily, his eyebrows furrowing, his mind trying to gauge the target of your wicked intentions. “You want something.”

You smile, pretty red lips stretching to show a beautiful line of white teeth and he’s surprised that the poison isn’t dripping.

“See, I knew you were smart.”

“I’m not giving you my business.” Osamu hisses, like a cornered animal, but his instance shows he’s more prone to fight than flee.

“Don’t want it.” You’re quick to tell him, innocence so out of place that it makes even clearer that you’re being honest. “I may need… services, though.”

Osamu’s spine shoots straight once again, his eyes sharp boring into your face with cold disdain.

“I’m not laundering your money.”

“Money launder, Miya? That’s a federal felony.” You lean back, supporting yourself on your forearms against the balcony, vigilant eyes zooming on him. “Are you saying I’m a criminal?”

Osamu stays silent for the first time. There’s a predatory glint in your eyes that he understands as a warning, but that doesn’t stop him from upturning his brow and tilting his head in a small challenge. Osamu is appalled at what your upturning lips do to his guts, swallowing the saliva that pools in his mouth. He must be wrong in the fucking head to feel anything else than disgust in your sight, but even so, there’s no denying the way there’s a devilish pull around you, like the temptation of a capital sin.

“What I mean is… I have a specific service for you, personally. So you could pay me in...” Your tongue snaps against the roof of your mouth with a small noise, lips turning up in vile intention, “Different goods, per se.”

Osamu refuses to accept his train of thought, eyes pressing into slits while he watches you. His tone enunciates every word of his question.

“What do you mean?”

Your answering smile is sordid.

“You know what I mean Miya, we’ve just established you’re not stupid.”

“I’m starting ta’ think you are, though.”

Your laugh is loud, cheerful even. It makes him look at you as if you’re insane.

“Maybe.” You chuckle, retreating your arms back and straightening your posture on the tool, your neck tilting to the side. “But when I want something, I want it. So why deny myself that? I find the whole point of self-control to be so… pedestrian.” There’s this contempt in your tone at the word, mixing into trivial once your shoulders shrug your consideration for a whole chunk of what living in a society means. “Why hold myself to it if I’m above?” Osamu chooses to ignore that question.

“And what if I say no?”

“You’re free to do what you want, I don’t own you.” Yet, you think, smiling. “Then again you still owe me 10k in interests and with your measly weekly 5k profit and the increased interest percentage with the second extension, we know what’ll happen to you… And I’d hate for that to happen to you.”

The silence is heavy and acidic, burning on him. And you let the seconds pass, relishing in the way he seems to grow aggravated, jaw overworking around nothing to bite, hands in fists by his side.

Oh, you’re close to defiling the pristine white of your designer clothes, the feeling brewing inside you threatening to spill between your thighs. Osamu looks absolutely delicious while being so emotional.

You can see the gears turning inside his pretty dark-haired head, his eyes looking around and back at you, threading down your face, to your neck to the plunging neckline of your suit - you elongate your body while he watches, pleased to have his eyes on you, especially when they're burning with unattended violence and aggression.

Osamu’s always so detached from the events happening around him, so unshakable in that aura of apathetic tranquility that it has caused you to develop an almost macabre interest in making him desperate. And now you are continually enjoying the result, the awakening of the flames that you always knew existed inside the small business owner.

A few minutes pass while you’re just content to watch, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as you appreciate the size of his shoulders, the strength hidden in the strong biceps, the broad, defined torso that you know exists under that simple black outfit simply by gut feeling alone. You are tempted to ask him to turn around so that you can also enjoy his backside.

“Ok.” He says in a breath that seems more like it was ripped out of his chest. Like a dead man last world. You like this analysis. But of course, he can’t have it so easy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear. Did you say anything?”

Osamu purses his lips in discomfort, almost bites his tongue in the process of not telling you to go to hell.

“I said,” he entones again, though his disdain is showing. “Ok”

“Ok, what?” You press. Oh, the way how his veins bulge on his forearms when his nails press on his palms have your hairs standing on end. You blink at him with a smile, all too pleased with yourself.

“Ok, I’ll do it.” Osamu squeezes out, brows furrowed in discovering your intentions. You’re leering with wicked prowess.

“I don’t think that's how you say it, Miya.” Your brows go up in the tiniest indication of irritation. Your voice is calculated, though unable to hide the elation.

“Ok… Miss. I’ll do anything you want.” The words come out of his mouth sounding nothing like submission and much like he just cursed your whole generation, teeth grinding. Still, it makes you smile. You don’t want to break his spirit -- that’s why you chose him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” You say, pushing yourself out from the counter where you supported yourself. Coat long forgotten on top of it, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, knowing exactly how you look and very pleased at the way his eyes ever so slightly thread down your plunging neckline. “But not so fast. I didn’t tell you I’d accept it-”

“Ya just--” Osamu almost explodes, the arms he holded closed in front of him being thrown in the air as if he’d be ready to grab you. You just turn a hand up and reels at how he actually shuts up right after.

“I just told you, you could pay me in services.” You continue, one step closer to him in your expensive shoes, plump red lips dripping wicked intent.

“But,” You start, closer to him enough that your breath is touching his heated skin and you can smell the sweat his aggression produced, your mouth salivating at the thought of tasting it on his skin.

Your finger rests on his chest and you thread it up while speaking, looking him in the eyes, so pleased at finding so much life in his usual dead stare, “I don’t know if you’re good enough for the job yet.”

Osamu stares back at you, hands in fists forcibly stuck next to his body, feeling the way your hot breath trails on his jaw and hating himself for what it brews in his insides.

You stretch up in your heels, mouth dangerously close to his, which rests ajar to let his breathing out, enough that he can taste your mint breath on his tongue.

“I think I may need a little…” Your eyes thread down to his mouth and then back to his eyes while you speak your next words, “--taste, you know?”

Osamu flexes his fingers, swallows dry around his closed throat, stares at your face -- so close the downright devilish smile on your red lips seems to narrow his field-view -- and he blinks.

The Miya thinks how he wants to wipe that smile off your sinful lips. How he wants to have you trembling, unattended, and disheveled. He thinks about you begging with his name on your tongue, for a release that he’ll keep denying at his disposition. Osamu thinks about leaving you sore and marked, thinks about wrapping his hands around your neck to watch as you struggle, turning purple, life evading you while he fucks you; consider this may be the only way he’d ever had the opportunity to get even close to a payback.

Osamu wants you to experience mind-numbing pleasure you’d never before, uniquelly brought by him… and suffer through the rest of your fucking disgraceful life without being able to taste it again once he’s done paying his debt. Because Osamu swears on his fucking name and whole life, he’ll never give it to you again.

He can see your future already and in it you’re fucked - both by him and for him, while he’s the one who gets away. The twin wonders if you ever lost anything like this in your life, can feel himself growing hard at being the one to make you cry.

“Sure.” Osamu smiles, lopsided, the devil himself being safer than him. “I’ll give ya the taste ya deserve.”

Your eyes press slightly closer in mistrust, the wicked intention pouring from his body so close to yours impossible to miss. Either way, it's your win; that’s exactly what you’ve been bargaining for, despite your game being rigged from the start.

You bring your face close to his as if you were going to kiss him and you are delighted when his eyes go down, although not completely closed, his pupils focusing on your lips.

You smile and retreat, turning to your men still positioned exactly where you left them, behind the bench where you were sitting previously. They remain so observant and sharp as ever, despite looking more like gargoyles than men.

“I’ll need a moment.” You tell them in a serious tone, calm. They both look at you for a second and nod, their stances changing very little despite it. You turn back to him but walk inside his establishment as if you own the place, pushing through the doors that lead to the back and inside his small, equipped kitchen. Osamu follows in silence, briefly wondering if he’d be able to snatch a knife and bury it in your chest.

There’s not much outside cooking paraphernalia, with two big counters and taller than normal table in the center. You stop right in front of it, your hand threading over it for a moment.

“That’ll do.” You say while you turn around to look at him. You look so strikingly bright in the middle of his rather normal kitchen, clad in both lavish clothes and unblemished skin; he wants so much to be able to say your sight doesn’t thrill him -- but he can’t lie to himself.

But then you pointedly eye him and then the ground in front of you, “Kneel.”

Osamu considers his previous thought about burying a knife deep in your chest but walks, stiff, to where you indicated. He kneels with even less disposition than when he walked towards you, the descent slow until the ground’s hard tile is registered against his knee. He makes a point of looking into your eyes as he lowers, hatred overflowing in waves that seem to give you a sick satisfaction, your eyes becoming slightly out of focus.

The Miya’s about to ask what you’d want him to do next, like pledge himself or some shit, when your hands move to the hidden zipper on the side of your impeccable white pants.

It drops to the floor in one go, displaying the graceful planes of your hips, appeasing spanse of flesh, a small triangle of silk hiding your most private parts. Saliva pools in Osamu’s mouth at the sight, his teeth pressing against one another to avoid betrayal. He’s still unsure of what’s his next step until your heel digs on his shoulder painfully, using him as leverage to prop yourself up on the high table.

His eyes snap to yours while he bite his tongue to not curse you out loud. There’s a gun on top of his head that is a big warning for Osamu to behave -- not that he’d have the chance to escape with the watchdogs outside his only exit. If he had, you could be dead already.

Your suit threads up when you move up and slide on the table, the white silk panties peeking in between your open thighs. You move your beretta calmly off his face and thread it slightly, almost fondly, over your naked thigh.

You make a small show of removing your finger from the trigger and depositing it far on the table, enough to be out of his reach and almost yours too. You look back at him once you’re empty handed and just so open right there on the table for him.

“Behave, Osamu. You know you wouldn’t make it very far.”

Osamu grits his teeth but nods, your heel still supported on his shoulder but not digging on his skin anymore. You lay slightly back against his tabletop, forearms resting on the surface carefully. Dressed in a white, stylish suit like the last trend, the skin in between so bright it feels like a taunt, the curves of your breasts so ripe he wants to taste, the closed lapels looking like his own pathway to sin. He can feel his blood boiling, aggression throbbing, and he wants to paint you in red.

“Well then,” You start, happily above him, spread like a meal, “Show me if you’re good enough to pay your debt. Consider this your warrant.”

“Don’t worry.” Osamu drawls out with dripping distaste, his hand slowly, almost bored, threading up from your ankle to your knees. “I’ll fuck ya like you want it. Within an inch of your life.”

His hands lock on the back of your knees and he parts them forcefully, while you leave a yelp followed by laughter, your head thrown back with glee.

You smell of flowers and spice, so expensive he was surprised that you weren’t dripping fucking gold. His palms slide through the back of your thigh and the skin under his fingertips is soft and firm, all shapes of heaven despite being in sole service of the devil.

Osamu starts slowly, the table leaving you open just at the height of his neck while he’s kneeled on the ground, at the perfect height. His thumb presses on your skin while he holds one of your legs up, brings his lips to your knee. There’s a welcoming stain on your panties, and he scoffs at you despite the way his cock responds on his trousers.

“I haven’t even started and you’re already wet?” The way you smile at him is both infuriating and bewitching.

“What? Didn’t you enjoy our little foreplay earlier?” You tease him, plump lips locked under a row of teeth with mirth. His skin feels prickling and Osamu decides he needs more room, roughly pushing on your thighs until he can fit between them with room to spare.

It’s not fair, how good you feel, the delicious smell of your skin, the way your taunt alights him with fire in his veins.

Osamu knows it’s bait -- and he’s willingly falling for it.

When his lips start to thread on the inner part of your knee and up, the twin does it with the intention to mark; he sucks instead of kissing, licks instead of caressing, and bites once he finds the plush meat of your inner thighs.

It stings and you let the smallest of sounds, but Osamu feels it in his gut, brings his hot tongue to soothe over it, bask in the way you tremble under his fingertips just enough for him to sink his teeth and revel in the pain on your groan.

His nose treads along the furthest expanse of the joining of your thighs, touches the silk of your expensive panties, senses the way you tense and watches while your pussy trembles, even while still covered by fabric.

He considers holding back his tongue, but Osamu has never been the type to be held back by the threat of punishment. And you’ve shown to clearly enjoy his fiery side.

“Such an eager pussy right here, isn't it?” He threads his nose against the wet patch in the silk, carefully breathes against the covered lips. Osamu lets one of his shoulders bear one leg and brings his thumb to pass over the growing wet patch. “Sticky.” He presses it from the wetness to the place where your clit should be, watches as you respond to his touch with aborted movement. “Such a slut.” It’s supposed to be degrading, but there’s a hint of appreciation in his words that isn’t lost on you. “Is this all it takes for my debt? It’ll be finished in a second then.”

Your mouth opens to retort but closes in time to withhold a moan before it falls through your lips. His thumb’s pressing against your clit in tight circles while the index of his other hand threads over your covered cunt. Turns out Osamu has moves to back up the big talk.

He’s methodical, clearly good and deft with his fingers, controlled pressure applied in a way that has you writhing on the table despite your intention to make this hard on him. Your desire to make him work for it, apparently, is no match for his.

Osamu presses the tips of his fingers on your clothed entrance, enough force that it barely breaks inside you but the teasing has you churning on the table for him, legs trying to part beyond limits, body arching where it’s been relegated. Your chest feels hot and heavy despite the little clothing. You’re hoping for the moment where he’ll tease the hard nipples pressing against the flimsy lace of your bralet and the inside of your suit with the same intensity he’s depositing on your cunt.

Osamu, on the other hand, has no rush. You did this, gave this opportunity for him to wreck you, and he plans on enjoying it to the bitter end. He’s fairly surprised at how responsive you are, how quickly you melt for him, how vocal you can be despite doing little more than grunts and sighs. A thought flashes through his mind when he feels a renewed wave of wetness blossom against the fabric where his fingers are pressing, his lips turning in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Have you been so desperate for a good cock you’ve resorted to blackmail?” Your eyes snap open at his voice, a warm wave of something that you refuse to believe in being embarrassment depositing in your cheekbones. Osamu’s fingers prod harder against your entrance, fingers spreading against the wet fabric to your outer lips while his thumb keeps drawing endless circles around your clit. “Tsk, what a dirty move from an even dirtier slut.”

He slaps your clit once, then twice, his bulking frame preventing you from closing your legs against the sudden pain. Your body trembles on unsteady forearms. You choke on a breath and then release a moan, the sound outrageous to Osamu even as his cock throbs from it.

“Maybe I’ll give ya what you want.” The Miya teases, his voice sounding even despite the turmoil inside him. You look up at him with such eyes he could fool himself into thinking he wanted this.

His fingers teether on the edge of your underwear, rough fingertips just daring to cross into the emanating heat. Your hips twitch, the emptiness inside you accentuated by your muscles clenching around nothing, desire pouring out against the prodding fingertips. Osamu snorts, throws you a hard stare that is equal parts fire and contempt.

“You’re so wet. Are you enjoying this that much?” It drips acidic from his tongue against your neck, after he bends himself over you. From so close, Osamu’s warm breath is the same as a caress, his tongue teasing you with the way it threads over his lips but doesn't extend the courtesy to your skin. “You’re rather easy to rile up, hah? Or is it that you enjoyed playin’ with me before?” His teeth flash white above your head and you swallow around the desire of having them plunging on your skin. “How was it ya said? Foreplay, hah?”

You feel weirdly wound up inside your own skin, as if there’s not enough space and still a growing void inside you waiting for him to fill. It’s insane, it’s delicious, and a loud moan breaches your throat when Osamu plunges two fingers inside you without warning.

Your body arches in such a curve your breasts press against his chest, the relieving brush too shallow to register in your brain when you’re hyper fixated on the sensation brewing inside you.

It doesn’t even sting, instead you feel like your hunger escalates, fed by such little push that your want becomes need and for the first time in forever you actually consider asking for something.

Your mouth opens, and Osamu snickers. “What?” He presses his thumb over your clit fast, relinquishes in the way you groan, feels the way your insides beg him to keep going.

Still not enough though. He wants it ruined for you.

“Maybe I’ll just make you cum on my fingers right here.” He spreads, scissor and twists them inside you, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him at his every move. Osamu’s skin feels on fire, body overheating, and the way your lips turn up to reveal a line of white teeth in glee has his gut twisting.

“You have a pretty loose tongue for such a quiet guy.” You look at him with semi-closed eyes, the victorious smile of the cat who got the mouse. “Maybe you like me more than you thoug--ahhhhh!”

Osamu shoves and prods around your insides for that special place even demons like you have and his assault is nothing short of merciless. Your eyes snap open at the force of his ramming, eyebrows furrowing at the way your pleasure seems to have forgone climb to skyrocket instead. Osamu watches in begrudging enchantment while your lips fall open to suck air into your breathless lungs and your eyes grow unfocussed, shoulders falling against the table so your hands can come to hold his arms but for what he doubts even you know.

He’s not stopping. Until he does.

You let out a noise like a wounded animal, tethering on the edge of mind numbing pleasure he won’t give you and when your body trembles from exertion of a denied orgasm instead of bliss, Osamu’s chest swells in pride.

“Whydidyoustop?” You lament in one breath, eyes are blinking back into focus, sweat and - oh he hopes those are tears - droplets dripping from the corner of your eyes while you turn to press your face on the cold metal surface of the table. “I was so close!” This time you rage, nails pressing against his skin enough to hurt.

“Wadidya mean?” Osamu tilts his head sideways, patronizing. “You didn’t ask for it. I’m just doing what you told me: being respectful.”

You laugh, still breathless, and turn to him in disbelief. “Fucker.”

“Not yet,” He corrects you, nuzzling his hips on your thighs. “Maybe if you ask nicely enough.”

Osamu retreats while you regulate your breath, letting your useless legs fall limp while both of his hands come to help your panties down, marveling at the way they’re peeled off your wet pussy lips. His cock aches and demands, but he’s used to reining in his dick. And he’s just started, anyway.

The Miya pushes you forward on the table, opening your legs wide like a treat. Your pussy is glistening, rhythmically calling for something to fill it while you leak. He plunges a finger back inside to watch you tremble, stimulation enough to make your eyes fall closed, long black lashes against beautiful sweaty skin.

“Look at this.” Osamu plunges a second finger inside, opening them wide enough to sting. “What a desperate whore.”

Your mind is swirling in urge, but you refuse to spill the words on your tongue. It would give you what you want, but at what cost? Osamu looks positively ferocious above you, dark eyes focused on your every move; it sends shivers through your spine, your body trembling and blossoming for him once again. You’re in your personal heaven, in company of the devil himself.

Osamu kneels again in front of your open legs, hook one on his shoulder while he holds the other thigh forcefully up with a grip so hard your muscle aches under his fingers. But you don’t care, in fact you sigh “more” for him right as his breath teases your folds.

“No.” He tells you, two fingers pumping at leisure. His tongue slurps at your inner thigh, teeth closing in a bite with nothing to sooth.

“Fuck.” You breathe out in a groan and his smirk is pronounced against your skin.

Osamu, as you’re learning, is a tease.

His moves are soft, lacking in everything but aim; his tongue moves along the sensitive parts of your body you’ve never really cared for, like the plush flesh of your thighs, underside of your ass, the juncture of your groin. He has yet to taste you but you feel wounded, body constricted under weak ministrations, feather-like teases. It sinks with a piercing revelation that you could cum like this -- in an unfulfilled manner with not-good-enough touches that somehow have made your body feel raw like an exposed nerve in which the minimum touch would be enough to warrant waves of pleasure.

When his tongue comes to thread along your slit slowly, nose caressing along his way, your body clenches and threatens to spasm around unmoving fingers. You’re so close, so close, your body is ready to burst, fraying at the seams of a control you’re not using, your hands flying to try and find your clit at the same time Osamu’s eyes flash and he holds it, presses it forcefully against your belly while his lips slurp at your folds, circle your clit, but it’s so soft, it’s fucking unfair.

“Goddammit, Osamu!” You scream, enraged at the way your second orgasm flies away from you as his fingers leave your quivering hole, his mouth doing nothing more than lap at your overflowing juices with no real worry, no urgency.

“Oh, look at that.” The Miya smirks, drawing back up to look at your disheveled state; flustered, sweating, dripping and unattended. “You wanted a taste.” His hand comes back to your cunt, fingers thread along puffy lips. “I’m giving it to you.”

“You bastard.” His fingers leave your heat just to plunge inside again, a loud gushing sound following it. “Shit.” You sigh while falling back, and Osamu feels his cock throb once more at how breathless you sound.

Your mind works around the feeling of being spread so far you feel as if you’re paper thin. Your mind goes rushing in its last attempt at working. Osamu looks self-satisfied, almost content, so you know where to hit. You want it, so you find a way to have it.

“Oh, poor Miya--” You coo at him with a hoarse voice in glazed eyes, but the condescending tone is clear as day. “Are you trying to hurt me?” You plant a hand on his black hair, pulling at it enough to hurt. “‘Cause I like pain.”

Fire explodes in his eyes and you tighten around his fingers in response, but other than his frown, Osamu remains calm.

He slams three fingers inside before you can mouth any new words, smirks down at you with mischief when you tremble and bite your lips to hold the noises in, eyes falling back closed to hide the way they turn inside your skull. His other hand is holding your thigh forcefully open once again and his palm presses with hurtful intention, fingertips buried in your flesh so hard his digitals may mark you for days.

“Let you cum on my fingers and nothing else, is that going to be enough for you?” Osamu snarls against your ear, hot breath tickling your jaw. His hips hold you open to his assault at your pussy and his hand abandons your thigh to glide over your body and close around your throat.

Osamu squeezes hard.

“Then again I could ruin your orgasm for the third time.” He bends over you, his lips right in front of your sight; eyes looking down at you with such fire you almost wonder if they’re the cause for the burn in your lungs. “Leave you writhing on the table, empty, until you learn to have a little respect.”

This.

Your lips spread in a smile almost maniacal, goosebumps rising on your skin as if you’re electrified. This is what you’ve wanted all along -- passion, fearless assault of words, electrifying pleasure; and also, the detachment, the murderous intent, all merging together in one perfect Osamu Miya. Shit, you think to yourself, at this hate you may actually come from his teasing alone.

“You talk too much for someone who didn't make me cum yet.” You pour gasoline into his fire.

Osamu pulls you up by the lapels of your suit, button flying open at the hastiness, your breasts protected by such a flimsy piece of lace you’re surprised it doesn’t turn to ash at his stare. Your hard nipples mark the white bralet, the air feeling cold at how hot they are.

A hand covered in your juices closes on your cheeks, forcefully opening your lips at the threat of pain, his fingers with lingering heat from your insides.

“Such a big mouth, should I shut you up?” Osamu asks you, eyes boring on yours. The plea is on the point of your tongue as if he’d shoved his hand inside you to yank it himself, and it tips out when his dark eyes steal one single snippet of your smeared red lips open by his hands.

“Fuck me.”

He nods negatively, presses hard enough that your teeth could cut your inner cheeks. He relents and your tongue grazes your lips, moistening them for his eyes.

Osamu smiles, a tilt of his lips up but so earnestly you’re almost hopeful, then: “No.”

Even if as he says it, it’s a lie. He knows he’ll fuck you, but right now he’s enjoying the build-up, toying with you as if you’re his plaything and not the opposite. You growl and curse, head falling back when he palms at your covered breasts, push the lace up, hears the way it strains and threatens to rip.

It’s oddly relatable -- Osamu also feels taut, stretched around a fleeting control that he feels will slip with one dip inside you. His past sexual experiences involved partners who he cherished and few one-night stands which, for the small time his dick was inside them, he was mindful and cared for their pleasure.

Right now, while he pinches and palm at your body, he has not a single worry about your pleasure and all the concern about his. This is for him. He bends his head over your bosom, sucks a nipple inside the hot cave of his mouth and bites. As his cock twitches and aches inside his trousers, he relishes in the pained noises you leave, even when they’re marked by breathless arousal.

“You sure are fucked up. Look how much you’re enjoying this.” His fingers force the howl of your cheeks, feeling your teeth nicking the insides of your mouth even through layers of flesh. There’s an infuriating elation in your expression, and Osamu retaliates by sucking harshly on your skin, teeth finding soft places to close on.

You moan loudly and his hand slides back onto your throat in the motion. Your hand shots up from the table to find his hard dick and your laugh makes his blood boil. “Clearly I’m not the only one.”

His heartbeat spikes at the words, even if Osamu knows it. The twin pulls the suit jacket half-down your arms and slams your body on the slight cold surface of the metal table, noise sounding thunderous but still no one comes after you.

Your skin erupts in goosebumps at the aggression, blood flying so fast through your heart you feel lightheaded. You’re about to spit some more fire into Osamu when two of his fingers gag you, other hand descending on your ass with such force and so unexpectedly your legs give out, dangling from the table as if you’re a ragdoll.

Something remarkably close to a whine turning sob slides through your throat and dies at Osamu’s fingers, just as something big and hot surges over your ass cheeks. Something coils on your chest, the emotion makes your eyes water and for a moment you blink it away, thanking the new position doesn’t let Osamu catch that.

Too soon. Osamu pulls your head back as his hand peels the globes of your ass apart and before you can breathe, the little air inside you is being knocked out with one thrust of Osamu’s hip.

He forces his dick inside you, tearing you open as your walls make way for his aggression, wetness dripping while Osamu fills you to the hilt, because yes, that's what you want. You want his hate, his passion, you want Osamu to tear you apart while you enjoy every second of it.

“‘Samu!” His name is on your lips as your eyes roll back, whole body tensing until you’re falling, just like that.

Then he retreats. “Fuck! Fuck no!” This time it’s a wail, a sob as your third orgasm turns to ashes, your insides trembling with nothing to hold, empty and meager pleasure.

“Wha--Cummin’ already? Nope.” The twin laughs above you, hands tilting your head painfully back. “So embarrassing.” Osamu mocks you and you swear you can feel a renewed wave of cream slide down your insides to greet the head of his cock, nudging along your swollen lips. Your tongue feels so heavy on your mouth, parched and breathless all at once, no way out but silence.

“You are disgusting, you know that? Such a greedy fucking pussy doesn’t deserve to be this tight.”

Your laugh turns into a deep moan when Osamu hits deep inside you. “God yes.” You twist one hand out of the suit’s sleeve just to pull him by the hem of his blouse, your nails digging against the skin of his neck, blooming red yelts. “Talk shit to me Osamu. I know you have better lines.”

“Fuck you.” The twin spits, his hips pistoning harder against yours until he just stops the motion, leaves you open and gapping for him to fill you again. “Of course a pig like ya has the hots for humiliation. Look at that, the slut’s pussy squeezing around my dick because she thinks I'm doing this for her pleasure.” His hand comes down on the other side of your ass, where he hasn't hit yet. It stings, but the way his palm massages and grabs at it before almost soothes the burn. “Disgusting sluts don’t get to say anything, not even begging will get you what you want. I decide what you get."

You look back from your shoulder to see his cock is standing proud and angry, swollen head shining red and dripping translucent white, as if he hadn't been wet from your juices before. Osamu’s big, especially thick and he presses inside you again without giving you time to adjust, unforgiving pace right from the start.

You curse at the way one of your hands keeps locked behind you by your suit, your nails digging on your own skin without anything else to find purchase on; the other tries to grab onto Osamu to no avail, falling on the table to help support yourself at the strength of his pounding. Your mouth is open, divided between sucking breaths and puffs of air. Osamu’s hand has since found purchase in your neck, the way he forces it back painful, the pressure on your throat growing and ceasing as he wishes.

Still, you can’t think. Your mind is lost in a sea of searing pleasure, your nipples pressed against the metal surface as Osamu finally fucks you as you’ve been dreaming. No, maybe even better. The past men you’ve fucked had all been afraid of hurting you, careful with retaliation. As Osamu fists your hair and forcefully presses you against the table; you think you may be having a religious experience. Your eyes water from the force of his manhandling, tears spilling while you left unbelievable noises fall from your lips. You want to scream and laugh, a hot sensation spreading from your fingertips to your core.

The wave of the orgasm is forming quickly, your toes curling against the insides of your Louboutins enough to hurt, the incessant pounding of Osamu’s hips against your ass sounding downright pornographic. As the peak approaches, doubt gnaws at your chest for the first time in forever.

The simple thought of Osamu robbing you of your orgasm this time is enough to make your whole body tremble and recoil, your mind too slow to catch on to his intentions. You consider biting your tongue to hold the plea in, but as you bolt into mind-blowing pleasure you’ve never even imagined before, the alternative feels like dying.

You’re tethering the edge and you feel Osamu pressing harder against you, and you break. “Please!” You cry out, “Pleasepleaseplease, don’t stop.” His movements slow down and halt, and the hand on your ass slides around you, a single finger taps repeatedly on your swollen clit.

“Say it.” He all but howls at your ear, bites on it for good measure.

“Please, ‘samu, let me fucking cum!” You beg but you’re already falling over, whole body shuddering just from the way he nudges his hips against your ass and taps on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Panic surges in between your pleasure that he’ll ruin this one when he retreats from your quivering insides, but Osamu rams back inside you with such power that your head rattles, hips hurting from the impetus of his fucking.

Sound rings in your ear while you drown in the thunderous waves of your pleasure for what feels like forever. It flows and flows and flows to a point you can’t tell if you’re seeing black or just closed your eyes.

Osamu watches, enthralled, how you go completely boneless under him. Your insides have stopped squeezing him tight but his hard, aching cock still throbs inside your heat. It’s honestly unbelievable how tight you feel around him, how fantastic he feels buried balls deep inside your walls. He had to stop trying to fuck you through your orgasm in worry he’d may cum. Poison and pleasure curl in his chest at the thought. Osamu feels like spanking you, choking you, to punish you for this undeserving heaven you have between your thighs.

But he’s not done yet.

Osamu retreats, the slide of his cock leaving your delicious walls -- cold air from outside so less welcoming -- and you sag on the table. He pulls you up on unsteady legs and smirks, proud. Your bare feet touch the ground and Osamu spins you around, swallowing on a tight throat after one look at your disheveled blissful state, but then he retreats and let’s you collapse to the ground.

The image of your legs sliding open on the cold tiled floor, unsteady hands finding purchase to hold your torso up while your head looks up at him in outrage is one he sears in his mind, a wicked satisfaction sliding over his spine at the sight alone. The wreck of you at his feet, by his hands, nothing short of perfect.

His cock throbs and pulses in front of your eyes, dragging your attention and Osamu steps closer, poses one hand on the top of your head, ruins the rest of your styled hair by dragging fingertips in it.

You’re still lightheaded, shockwaves making you twitch on the cold floor and Osamu is elated at how wrecked you look, makeup smeared, hair disheveled, body holded up by unsteady arms. Your lips are open, between breathless pulls of air and heavy exhales, but Osamu doesn't care, hands forcefully tugging your hair back and angling your mouth at his swelled cockhead. He counts as a win that you don’t bite him, your tongue threading flat on the underside of his length as he buries himself on your throat.

There’s resistance, so the Miya retreats, forcing it back a few other times until it finally slides a few inches more inside. While he maintains the force over your hair, his other hand engulfs your chin, thumb breaching your lips to hold your mouth open despite the fact you don’t make any move to close it.

It feels his chest with acidic bitterness that you welcome his aggression, glazed, tearful eyes looking up at him as if the fact he’s using you as little more than a cocksleeve is the brightest part of your day. Still, Osamu’s skin feels close to tearing under the sheer amount of pleasure flooding his insides. His hairs are standing on end, heart beating so fast his lungs burn, every muscle on his body tensed at his mindless pursuit of his high. He buries his cock deep inside the tight space of your throat, your gurgles and groaning enhancing his sensation. It looks painful to you to hold him inside, tears ending your makeup, face turning red at the lack of air. He closes both hands behind your head, making you nuzzle his pelvis even as your nails close on his thighs threatening to break skin.

He retreats to let you breathe just as your eyes go unfocused, feels something squeezing inside as you cough and wheezes and his throat squeezes a large gulp of air when you look up at him, tongue hanging out with a wide-open mouth just offered for him.

Osamu feels like hurting you at how good you are, infuriatingly obedient and willing to be at the end of his aggression. So he buries himself back inside at one go, both hands holding your head for him. There’s too much chaos inside of him, so he decides to pour some out through words.

“You like being used like this, huh? Like little more than a fucking cocksleeve for me.”

“What is it? Does being in power make you this needy? Does being wrecked make you feel this good?” Your groan makes your throat tighter around him, your eyes rolling back from his fucking and degradation.

It’s unfair, infuriatingly so, that this might be the most unbelievable great sex he ever had.

Osamu can’t hold back much longer, everything feeling just too good, his skin burning at the stretch of the tourbillion of emotions inside his chest, the captivating sight of tears dropping from your jaw and coating your long lashes as your face darkens by the lack of air, swollen lips stretched beyond capacity around his cock while you willingly let him go harder, faster, into your tight throat. There’s a warm sensation flowing from his limbs to his spine, melting his bones and weighing on his balls until it spreads over Osamu’s whole being.

He pulls back from your throat in time but presses his hands on your jaw and hair to keep you up and open as he coats your wrecked face with hot spurts of cum -- the final touch to the perfection of your wrecked image at his feet.

It lands haphazardly over your lips and even your eyelashes, tear-stained mess of a face marked by his essence. Osamu tells himself he could never feel anything towards you, but for a second there’s a hint of territorial pride at how you look -- and how it is all his doing. The twin is still swimming in searing pleasure as you lick over your lips, hands almost fondly landing over his as if you're assuring him that he can let go.

He does, trying to step back and slowly descending onto the ground when his knees give out. His eyes are glued to how his cum is dripping from your chin onto your chest, how you bring your fingers to sweep over it and end it by cleaning the digits with your tongue. If Osamu’s cock wasn’t so spent, he’s sure it’d swell right back up at the sight alone.

“Can’t say what’s better,” your hoarse voice is barely above a murmur, “the taste or the feeling.”

As you’re standing on unsteady legs and already fixing yourself while he sits on the floor questioning his life choices, Osamu feels as if he’d made a deal with the devil, and you’ll be coming back to collect his soul.

“Seems like the start of a nice partnership, doesn’t it?”

#osamu miya smut #osamu miya #osamu miya hq #haikyuu smut #tw dubcon #thesmutpilecollab #hq fanfic #osamu miya x reader

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idga-buck · 4 years ago

Text

Some and Others, 1/?

Bucky wasn’t looking for a relationship, he was looking for a good night’s sleep, but when he found you he got more than he bargained for.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5,758

Content: swearing, soft smut (18+ only), Bucky being clueless, IW and EG just didn’t happen? idk, everyone’s alive and living in the compound #classic, also me fitting in a bunch of information that probably wasn’t necessary for the first chapter but what’s a story without a sturdy foundation?

After a mission, Bucky is some kind of way. Steve is too careful with him, but he doesn’t exactly blame the captain. Plus as an uncommissioned officer, 70 years without promotion, who is he to disagree. Maybe he isn’t ready for a life of avenging. Certainly isn’t ready for the questions that will follow another sleepless night, so Bucky didn’t stay in. He went out.

His memory wasn’t what it used to be, but Bucky recognized your street the second he’d stepped onto it. He’d parked his bike in the grassy alley on his right, gotten coffee at the Caribbean supermarket across the street when he finally left that afternoon. Technology wasn’t his strong suit, despite his depth of interest in it. There was etiquette and a way to do things that were as nuanced as they were mysterious. Bucky often wondered if people just lived by their own set of rules, leaving everyone else in the dark and only interacting with the persistent few who engaged correctly. He didn’t have the patience for that sort of thing. Shuri reminded him of that more than he cared for, but in terms of debts owed, he could smile through her jokes for a lifetime after the second chance she’d given him.

Bucky Barnes was a ladies man… at some point in his life, but more accurately, his life had been colored with women stronger than him since the day he was born. His mother was the first to hold him, followed shortly after by the older sister who tried to sell him to the milkman. Luckily Mr. Spenser wasn't in the market for a throw away babe and Bucky got to grow up in a house dominated by women. His sister, his mother, his grandmother with the accent that was just gibberish outside of their living room, the two more sisters that were welcomed in after him, though he’d never dream of bartering them away for bubble gum. They were all loud, but kind and could always bring a smile to his face. Even still. Rebecca, the most distant in age, but the closest in spirit, was still living. His baby sister was all grown up to the point of growing back down, shrinking in on herself the way old women do. Bucky made regular trips to the Alzheimer’s care center, sitting with her and loving her as only a brother could. Though her recollection of recent history was gone, Rebecca Barnes could still pinpoint the exact moment that all her girlfriends fell in love with her brother, which made Bucky shake his head and laugh. Her CNAs were worried for her mind when Rebecca introduced them to her big brother, looking closer to a man in his 30s than a man from the 30s, but he assured them that she was correct. He hadn’t changed a bit, she told him with two wrinkled hands on his cheeks. In appearance, not as much as he should have, but in all the other ways people usually mean, Bucky couldn’t feel more disconnected from the man he was when Rebecca was all bright eyes and secret kisses under the corner store awning. Bucky had no problem leveling those boys with a stare back then, but now most of them wouldn’t think twice before using their canes as a switch across his shins just for cocking an eyebrow in their direction. Talking to his mother wasn’t possible anymore and his sister wasn’t in a state to give out girl advice. Shuri was on another continent. Natasha… was Natasha and he would never ask for her help with something like this. Wanda was usually awake late at night when he was, but she was still so young.

Bucky looked up from the street, noting your second floor windows were dimly lit. Golden squares stood out against the bricks, blackened by the late hour, and through the gauzy curtains he spotted movement. Without his mother to advise against it or Shuri to give him something better to do, Bucky reached for his phone and scrolled through the recent calls. You’d called yourself before he left, but thinking that he wouldn’t see you again, Bucky hadn’t actually saved the number. Something of a bad habit, he noted, scrolling through lines and lines of unrecognized and unsaved phone numbers, hoping he’d just know it when he saw it. He didn’t.

Until one appeared on its own, presenting him a choice. Answer or reject. A simple question with unknown consequences. Rejecting the call seemed safer, so Bucky pressed the red circle and resumed his search.

“Weren’t you a spy or something?” Your voice drew Bucky’s eyes up from his phone screen to the now open window above his head. You were leaning out a bit, the posture helping your voice to carry over the surprisingly still busy street.

“Somethin’,” he grinned, pocketing the useless device. Both hands secured in his jacket, Bucky tipped back on his heels to get a better look at you. “Gonna invite me up?”

You shrugged and planted your palms against the window sill to lift yourself up. Even from that angle, Bucky was transfixed by your cleavage. Subtle under the tank top you wore, but he remembered it fondly. As if you could hear his thoughts, your arms snapped closed over your chest, bringing the colorful wings of a kimono with them, shielding yourself with floral patterns and defensive body language that made him take a step backwards. “You didn’t call…” you said and though accurate, your accusation made Bucky regret what he was about to do. After waking from the best night’s sleep of his life, he said he’d call you. No amount of self love could bring that much refreshment into his life and the feeling of waking up after a deep and dreamless sleep was enticing enough. The sex was good for a one off sort of thing, Bucky would even say great, but the sleep that came after… he hadn’t been able to replicate it yet. The lure of a good night's sleep and the softness of your body against all of his rough edges were too strong to stop him now. He was committed to this indiscretion, but before he could defend himself, you’d moved on, already smiling again. “And you just ignored my call.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed and lifted in quick succession before he pulled the phone from his pocket again. Saved. And for good measure, he pulled it up to his ear again. You frowned, turning away from the window, presumably to look for your phone. The glass slid shut behind you and Bucky bounced on the balls of his feet while he waited for the metallic purr in his ear to be replaced by something even better.

“What are you doing?” You said over the line.

“Hey, it’s Bucky-“ he heard you stifle your own laughter with a choked ‘oh my god’ in the background. “Remember me?” You hummed and Bucky waited with his eyes on your window. When you didn’t return, he kept talking. “I know it’s late, but I was just in the neighborhood-“ another quiet giggle made him smile as he spoke. “You up?”

“Is this Bucky Barnes’ first booty call?” You asked.

“I guess it is…” he said, half his mouth curving up even though you couldn’t see it. “How’m I doin’ so far?” There was a pause and Bucky started moving toward your door on instinct. It was illogical to think something had happened in those few seconds, but after the day he’d had Bucky didn’t feel confident ruling it out. “Making me nervous out here, doll.”

“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him and Bucky leaned back against the door in relief. “I was about to go to bed… but since you came all this way-“ the end of your sentence was cut off by the loud buzzing in his ear as the lock on the door disengaged from above. Bucky stepped into the first hall, street lamp making the small row of Golden mailbox fronts glitter, and leisurely took the first few steps up. “Better hurry,” you sighed and Bucky stopped, foot hovering over the next step. “Door’s unlocked and I’m already naked.” Bucky was in your apartment and snapping all three locks into their closed position before you’d had the chance to hang up from his impromptu phone call.

You fucked him slowly that night. The rush he felt taking your stairs two at a time dissipated once he was in your bedroom. It wasn’t as frantic or fumbling as it had been the first time and Bucky was happy for the change. When he’d followed you home from the bar, it seemed that both of you had an understanding. One night only, so make it count. It was hard and fast, but so so good. Even the next morning’s repeat and the finale in your shower before he finally pulled away sated had been more like back to back sprints than whatever this gentle marathon was. As if you could feel the stress that Bucky needed to let go of, you moved carefully around him. Totally bare in the bluish glow of the bathroom plug in that lit the scene before him, you took your time undressing Bucky and placing his hands back at his sides whenever he tried to help move things along. When you dropped to your knees, leaving him open and vulnerable standing naked in the middle of your bedroom, he made a sort of wounded noise that made him want to bolt, but didn’t seem to bother you. If anything it spurred you on, drawing more whispers from his rosebud lips until he couldn’t take it anymore. For the first time in his life, Bucky begged for more attention. Not the teasing he did on street corners- come on, baby, you’re breaking my heart here- when a dame tried extra hard to resist his charm. This was real pleading as if he thought he’d die frozen in place without your heat to revive him.

He’d made the right choice. Bucky decided while lying across your bed, one hand twisted up in your pillow case while the other was splayed across your bare thigh, that he’d done the right thing coming to you for this. He could have gone back to that bar or a different one and gone home with another girl just like he had with you, but then he’d be missing the view from under you. Having a new girl everytime Bucky found himself feeling restless sounded exhausting. He’d also determined that his mother would be incredibly disappointed in him if he had rows and rows of unsaved phone numbers from girls that didn’t know they were being used. Finally and maybe most importantly in that moment, Bucky didn’t want to start over with someone brand new. He liked your crumpled linen sheets, liked the smell of ink from the printing studio beneath your apartment. While you rode him to mutual satisfaction, he liked the way your hips rolled sensually over his, liked the slick grind and the dull bite of your nails against his stomach. He liked that after your first, when he asked you to slow down again and extended his hands to you, you took each of them without hesitation. Supporting your weight on outstretched arms, Bucky got to enjoy your hands in his while you gasped out a second. If it had been your first time sleeping together, you’d probably be too prideful or embarrassed to admit that you were tired. He wouldn’t have gotten to hear that whine when you asked if he was close and he replied -smugly- not at all. If it had been your first time together, he’d probably be too prideful or embarrassed to ask you how you wanted him. He wouldn’t know how sweet it felt to have your back pressed up against his chest and he wouldn’t have known to turn you onto your side so he could slip in from behind you. Bucky was so comfortable in your bed with your knee hitched up over his hip, body totally open to his roaming hands. He made the right choice coming back to you and as he finished with a grunt, both arms wrapped around you tight while your arm was bent over his head, gripping his hair with the perfect amount of tension, he’d already decided to make it again.

The next morning, Bucky was refreshed, feeling like a brand new man. That was the feeling he’d been chasing last night or rather very early that morning, but the tightening in his lower body followed by ultimate release was a fine way to get there. Just like last time, he’d woken up alone only to find you in the bathroom, washing sleep from your eyes and fixing your face. His enhanced hearing meant he could listen to the tap running and the echoing “puh” of you spitting into the sink without having to open his eyes. Comfortable and naked against your pillows letting the familiar sounds tell the story of your morning routine. He didn’t mind waiting as long as you crawled back in beside him like last time. Bucky only peeked twice before he heard the zipper of your makeup bag close and the magnet on your medicine cabinet snap shut behind the mirror. You were back with him in a moment and he turned toward your scent, aloe fresh deodorant and sharp minty breath beckoned him closer and he hummed against your lips. If he cared to move, he’d swallow down the remainder of your mouthwash then swap cool kisses until his tongue tingled against yours, but he was so comfortable. Even more so once you’d laid across his chest, bumping your nose and chin against his until he opened his eyes. Bucky dropped his arms heavily across your back, keeping you planted against him, though you hadn’t struggled or made any moves to leave him. He couldn’t have that with someone new. If he swapped your number for someone else’s, he’d have to flirt and wade through the post sex awkwardness again. He’d have to go out more and hope his charm would work on another. He’d have to perform for them the way he had for you the first two times. The third, in your shower, was messy and wet and fun despite the soap in his eyes, which you wiped away for him while his hands were occupied by holding you up. He wouldn’t have that with someone new until he made it happen and frankly he didn’t want to make it happen. Not yet. Not when you were still cute and still into him and still happy to hear from him even at 2 in the morning when he looked like a creep under your window. Why trade all that just to say he could have another then another? Sex was good. That morning stuff was good too. If it was the orgasm that made him feel alive again, then the warmth of your bed and your lips drifting lazily down his chest was what made life worth living. One gal was enough for him. You were enough.

Bucky hadn’t even noticed that he was drifting off again until you spoke. He didn’t hear you, but he sure it didn’t matter and responded with some ta sentiment of his own. “Thanks. For this.”

“Thank you,” you corrected and he smirked at that, eyes still blissfully closed. “Hey, uh— Bucky…” You sounded nervous and he had to force his eyes open at the sound of your voice shaking around his name. You must have noticed his sudden concern and placed a hand soothingly over his chest. “I just…” you bit your lip and Bucky watched the wheels churn behind downturned eyes. It was sweet, the way you could flip from bold and sexy to this. An errant curl fell out of its place and he felt the desire to pull that twisty rebel between two fingers before moving it back to follow the part you’d intended all the up to his second knuckle. Your hair was the kind he wanted to touch over and over. Not because it was your hair per se, but rather because it didn't have that acrid home perm smell or a hundred little pins holding it in place like his sisters and the other girls he ran around with. They spent hours on their waves and rolls, but you flipped a fist full to one side, fluffing it with your fingers when you wanted his attention and damn if it didn’t work everytime. Before he knew it, a vibranium finger against your temple, following the curve of your ear. Your stunned look made Bucky chuckle. He even patted your cheek in encouragement. After a beat, you were gathered again. Another breath and you spoke. “I just wanted to say, I don’t really do this sort of thing.” His eyebrow shot up at that and you scrambled to correct yourself. “Not this,” you half laughed then gestured to his naked body and yours, hardly clothed. “The bringing strangers home from bars thing. I definitely wasn’t expecting to see you again- not that I didn’t love it- I just didn’t want you to think-“

“I think you’re amazing,” he said quickly to assure you he didn’t think anything else. He wouldn’t either. Couldn’t even imagine anything else after making an ass of himself at your first meeting. He’s felt so out of place and vulnerable and ridiculous trying to take you home the night you’d met, but you hadn’t made him feel wrong or silly for it. For that alone he was grateful. For the sex that followed, even more so. You’d met him with just enough teasing to keep him engaged, but not so much that he felt like he was an unwanted addition to your night and whenever his eyes drifted away like he wanted to run and forget the whole stupid idea, you gently guided him back, eyes and words making it clear that you wanted him too. It was a mutual feeling of desire, as simple as it was complicated. Bucky wanted to keep it simple though, if for no other reason than to keep seeing your awkward smile duck into his neck at the eagerness in his voice. He touched your face again and repeated himself. “I don’t think anything… just that I’m glad I met you… and I’d like to keep seeing you.”

You smiled at him and whatever silliness he felt in his confession evaporated. It was the right thing to say. You sighed and leaned in again like you were going to kiss him, before stopping short and looking up at him through your lashes. “I don’t think I can say no to you.”

“Then don’t,” he said, but it felt like begging again as he hoisted you higher up on his chest to kiss you again. The conversation was over and if you weren’t going to say no to him, then he wanted to start his morning with as many breathy yeses as he could get.

Random serendipitous encounters became less random and serendipitous with every passing week. Bucky was feeling lighter, yet somehow more whole. Boy, did he need that. A woman’s lovin’ will do that for you. He vaguely recalls one soldier or another making similar remarks while he was in Italy. Bucky’s blue eyes belonged to the nurses back then, as his own innocence slowly died with each body dropped by his own marksmanship. This new world, new century he now had to navigate was so different. His enemies weren’t always flesh and blood, even the ones that did bleed bled out in black and blue not Nazi red. Aliens, other worldsmen, some very human psychos with eerily familiar ideologies about who was of value and who was not. Bucky fought next to his friend, spilling blood of all colors when necessary, bearing the stains that Captain America couldn’t as a paragon of justice and honor. Then when the ringing in his ears got too loud, he sought you out. Over and over again. He never showed up unannounced and you always answered his call, even when you shouldn’t. You truly didn’t know how to say no to him and he truly didn’t want you to.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bucky knew it wasn’t love, but he didn’t care. It felt good and it felt right and against his better judgment it helped him sleep at night, knowing you were only a half turn away, hugging your pillow, but content to wrap your arms around him instead as long as he asked. And he asked. When he wasn’t in your bed, it helped him stay sane, knowing that someone in the world was waiting on him, caring from a distance, maybe praying for his return. In the Big War, his mother prayed for him. His sisters too. In these mini wars, fought stealthily around the globe, he had you.

Rebecca was still blessedly alive, but his baby sister only remembered him when she saw his face. He would bet that you remembered him even as he schlepped through the mountains of Siberia for the last time. Always Siberia. Evil men must be allergic to sunlight. Sam had jokingly asked him why he always went back and Bucky had jokingly thrown the Falcon’s coffee away, leaving Sam’s hand empty and his mouth full of indignant teeth sucking. That briefing was blessedly brief and Sam didn’t need the rest of his coffee anyways. The flight via jet was longer, but not as horrible as it could have been. Steve’s sympathetic glances were unbearable. It’s the last time, Buck. Yeah, OK. The mission was a success, if you could call it a mission. Sam spun magnificently through the mouth of a cave while Bucky fired back into it, detonating the whole mountainside and leaving this particular Cold War remnant under an avalanche of snow and well kept secrets, never to be reborn. Steve dealt with the press. He had the face for it. Reputation too. Sam soaked up the due praise that came along with it, the next Captain America with his wings and his wit to carry avenging into the 21st century. Bucky, however, peeled off his heavily armed get up and peeled out of the compound without any formal announcement.

When Bucky left for long periods, most assumed he was doing what Steve Rogers would do. Ride around in his bike, traipse through the old neighborhood noting how much it changed. Captain America was the old man, the icon. He had the luxury of wandering. Bucky hadn’t gone anywhere without a mission in mind since the 40’s. He was a soldier, a weapon and while his mind could no longer be weaponized against him, Bucky was still the guy taking care of things that just wouldn’t wash out of Captain America’s shiny cowl. So when he left the compound, no one asked questions. At least not directly to him, something he was thankful for on the hour or so ride to your place. The Bronx apartment was considerably closer than a nostalgic walk through Brooklyn and he got a lot more out of it. He had no mission in Brooklyn, but you were waiting for him and that was enough.

This particular mission was no different. Steve asked him to stay on site and he declined politely as he could without actually stopping to talk to his friend. Natasha called out his hurried steps and followed him halfway to the garage before giving up at his request. It was glaringly obvious to Bucky how they got along so well. Steve and Natasha were quite the pair. Tenacious friends, like the kind of friends that never give up and definitely won’t let you give up on yourself. He saw it in her fierce allegiance and protectiveness over Clint. Now that Steve was huge and well connected in the Avenging community, Bucky supposed that made him the Barton to Steve’s Romanoff. They were insufferable do gooders too. Sure, Natasha had her fair share of red in her ledger, but once she was with the good guys, she was the best of them. Neither one would hesitate to throw themselves on a grenade or over a cliff if it meant someone else’s chance to live. They were do it or die trying people. Sam was… Sam was Sam. And when he spotted Bucky making a beeline to the exit, he just waved and shouted “have a good ride.” The wink was uncalled for and made Bucky question how much Sam really knew. He was a deadly intuitive little shit and despite Bucky’s best attempts not to even think it… one of the best people he’d ever known. Not that he felt the need to tell Sam that. He probably already knew it. Blessedly, Bucky ran into no other superheroes on his way through the compound. The garage, more like a hangar, was empty. Only the most expensive toys in Tony Stark’s arsenal and a high tech key coded workshop that Bucky felt so out of place in he kept a small tool box of his own so he wouldn’t have to wander through it. God forbid he go digging for a socket wrench and laser one of his fingers off. Anything was possible on Stark property.

Bucky zipped across the Hudson and sped toward the zoo, stopping at the deli on the corner and looking up two floors at the flat corner window. You weren’t waiting for him like usual. He’d pulled off the road once he got away from the compound and called you like he always did, giving you plenty of advance warning. It would be more gentlemanly to ask your permission before leaving home, but you hadn’t turned him down yet and if you ever did, he figured he’d keep driving anyways just to be away from everyone else for a while. Most times, when Bucky rounded the corner, slipping his bike into the space between your building and the overgrown lot next door, you found your way to that window, waving him up and putting a little something extra in his steps. You weren’t there, but you knew he was coming, so he made his way to the building’s entrance. A call, a buzz, a knock and Bucky was in your space again, taking a deep breath and inhaling the sweetness from your kitchen.

Your back was turned to him, having opened the door for him before rushing back to your place at the counter without a formal greeting, and Bucky watched curiously as you dropped little chocolate chip cookies onto a paper plate. You waved your fingers around after using your bare hands to pull them off the parchment paper and sucked your thumb between your lips to rid it of a rogue chocolate dripping. Bucky eyed the plate presented to him then looked up into your eyes.

“I googled you,” you said proudly. Bucky nodded and said okay, like he knew what that meant. It sounded sexual, but he hadn’t seen you in a week and frankly, he was more interested in googling than cookies. “It’s your birthday, Bucky! Why didn’t you say anything?” You looked delightfully scandalized and held out two cookies for him, which he accepted with a half smile. They were warm and started to fall apart between his fingers, so he shoved both into his mouth before making a gooey mess of himself. While his mouth was full, you cleaned up your tiny kitchen and dropped the plate onto the coffee table in the living area, talking about how embarrassing it was that you hadn’t thought to look him up sooner, but how lucky you felt that you’d thought about it after he called. You wished you’d had time to make a cake, but wanted to be home when he arrived, so freezer cookies were the best you could do after work.

You weren’t dating. Not really. That was why Bucky hadn’t mentioned it. Steve and Natasha wanted to make a big stink out of it, but he wanted no part of that. He just wanted to see you and get some of that good sleep he only got in your apartment after wearing you out two or three times. Sitting on the couch next to you, he took another cookie from the plate. They were better than they looked and he planned to clear the whole dang thing before taking you to bed. Maybe he’d save a few for the refractory period. You’d need sustenance too. So Bucky took his fourth cookie, which made you smile even wider and pledge to leave the rest for later.

The truth was, Bucky hadn’t celebrated a birthday in decades. The last one he could remember being awake for was in the seventies. He waited outside the governor's mansion in Bermuda for hours, watching a dinner party eventually lull and disperse. The Winter Soldier had no clue of the cruel irony watching another man’s party on one’s birthday, the asset’s only focus was quickly killing the governor and his companion once they stepped out of the house for a walk. He’d spared the dog though, a massive and beautiful beast without a single aggressive bone in its body who loped away from the scene whining. You hated that story when Bucky confessed it. He hadn’t felt the need to go into much detail regarding his time as the fist of Hydra. At first because he didn’t care for you to know. It was a fling. Fun. What pieces he did remember from those days were anything but fun. After determining that he liked you, really liked you, Bucky kept his trap shut for fear of scaring you. You knew who he was in theory, but as long as he wasn’t relaying his bloodiest days to you like he was now, maybe you wouldn’t look at him like the monster he didn’t want to be anymore. To his surprise, you hated that he sat in a tree watching people eat and drink and laugh the night away on his birthday, regardless of whether he knew it at the time. However, you zeroed in on his attempts to spare the dog, filling in the blanks that somewhere deep within the Asset, he had maintained some of his humanity. Some of his Buckyness.

“I don’t know if that helps… or if it makes everything worse…” you said, hesitating to go on, but he caught your meaning. Was it better to think that Hydra succeed in wiping him clean, using only his body and latent memories, discarding his mind all together? Or was it somehow hopeful, to think that in all their trying to eliminate Bucky Barnes in order to free their Asset, some piece of him had remained intact? Bucky wasn’t sure he could stomach the idea that any part of him had been present during grizzly assassinations, nor could he ever fully shake the idea that he wasn’t. Either way, these conversations weren’t what he came to you for.

While you were still looking shy, wondering if you should have stopped him from telling his story, Bucky kissed you. It was sweet, not just from the chocolate on his breath. “Thank you,” he said softly, thumbing a brown smudge at the corner of your mouth. “For the cookies. For listening.” His eyes passed over each of yours in turn. “Thanks for being here.”

“Of course,” you smiled. It wasn’t as obvious as you made it sound, but he liked that you felt it was. “I could be around more, you know.” Bucky didn’t know what you meant, but that became clear in a matter of moments. You sucked in your lips and started again. “I know we haven’t talked about...uh, well, what this is, but you’ve been coming over for a while now and I guess…”

“You guess?” Bucky prompted you to continue, when you trailed off.

“I didn’t expect you to still be calling me, so I guess I’m asking,” you said. “Asking what we are now?”

“Oh.” Bucky hadn’t meant to say it like that, but it came out like that and your eyes widened immediately. He scrambled, grabbing your hands quickly and holding them both in a firm pile against your thigh. “Oh, meaning, I didn’t think that’s what we were doing here, so this is unexpected.”

“Oh,” you respond and Bucky imagines you meant it exactly how it sounded. Disappointed and the single syllable precursor to his being disinvited from your apartment. And your bed. And your everything.

“But, I like the idea,” he supplies quickly, but he can see your look is hesitantly hopeful. “Of more, I mean. Seeing where… ya know.”

“Yeah,” you smile and Bucky breathed out his relief. “So we’re together…?”

“As together as we can be,” he said, having no clue what he meant by it, but it seemed to be the right thing considering how you kissed him. You pulled your hands from his to wrap behind his neck and fit yourself into his lap. Bucky’s hands went to your thighs, spread wide over his hips, and he squeezed his way up the backs to your jean pockets, slipping his hands inside to squeeze again. “Here or…” Bucky pulled away to catch his breath and nod in the direction of your bedroom.

“Take your girlfriend to bed, Bucky,” you laughed, kissing him again and he stood with you still in his arms, legs clinging to his lower back. Girlfriend. Okay, Bucky decided in a snap. He could work with that. Especially if it meant chocolate chip cookies and birthday sex. Which reminded him and you giggled as he turned back around, hoisting you higher up on his torso with the vibranium arm below your butt and stooped carefully to grab the plate of cookies with the other before taking you and your cookies to bed.

His first relationship in the 21st century had surprised him. Come out of nowhere and nothing. One moment he was standing at a bar, nursing a beer that wouldn’t affect him at all while he listened to talk about your job before not so subtly asking about his, the next it was his birthday and he had a mouthful of chocolate chip cookies while you had a mouthful of him. It’s funny how fast life changes. If only he’d known just how quickly his new relationship would fall apart.

A/N: I’ve been cooking up this series for a while now and I thought, why not post the first bit and see what happens. First time writing for this fandom, so we’re diving in head first with a feckin’ long series and some foolin’ around. I do welcome tags if you’re interested.

Masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfic #idga fic #some and others

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