#mafia smut

[astayinwonderland]

"After all, you're my wife." | Choi San

pairings: san x f.reader

genre: smut | fluff (if you squint)| +18 minors DNI

this is a mix between a poll and a request by @elfemi

summary: you marry san to make an alliance, and the agreement includes to live separate lives, but both of you seem to want each other (mafia!au)

word count: 3.4k

warnings: dom!san, sub!reader, san calls you his little pet, cursing, degrading, praising, unprotected sex (pls no), cum play, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, mentions of violence (not towards reader) and drugs -- lmk if I forgot anything

Enjoy! (;

There are two things you have very clear. Your dad is dead and you fucking hate Choi San. Inheriting the position of mafia leader was your birthright, your dad raised you to be that woman. However, not everyone wants to see a woman in such a powerful position, to their misfortune, you were the late mafia boss’s only child. 

When your father fell ill, you knew it was time to get your position as leader and boss secure. That meant allying with someone rich and powerful. You were surprised that all eligible bachelors were too old, too young, or not powerful enough. 

Theo was standing behind you as your eyes scanned the guests your dad’s most trusted assistant invited for a ‘get-together and mingle with the corrupt elite of the country. He had become like an uncle to you, a genuine part of the family. With his kind eyes, but cold demeanor, he is the perfect person to have your back. 

“What about him?” Theo said. 

“Ugh no…” 

“You can’t keep saying no to everyone. Choose or I will choose for you tonight,” your dad finally spoke. Eyes not looking at you. This is not his favourite idea ever, but it was necessary. 

You couldn’t picture yourself with any of these men, but it was your duty. So you tried your best to be somewhat amicable and get to like at least one of them. With your wine glass in hand, you decided to talk to your pursuers. They would throw themselves at your feet, showering with compliments, showing off their riches, and to be honest being completely obnoxious. This is not what you needed. You needed someone who you could make a deal with and live separate lives while keeping the façade of a marriage. 

Shit, this was going to be hard. 

The door opened and at that moment you knew something was off. The entire room fell silent when the man with broad shoulders and shiny black hair walked in. His face was expressionless, with high cheekbones, and not a trace of sympathy. You would think he would come to greet you, that’s the reason why he is there, but he just bows in your direction and walks over to the bar. 

The conversation around you resumed, whispers commented on the politician’s son. His father was a powerful drug lord who controlled one of the borders. No wonder he has so much influence. Your brain made a quick list of pros and cons, and so it seemed Choi San would be the right choice for you. 

___________________________________

San was aware his father was a criminal but when he was pushed to marry you, he did everything he could think of to change his father’s mind. He begged he asked to be sent away, hell, he even asked for physical punishment. But Mr. Choi was a greedy, greedy man, and he saw in you an opportunity to be even greedier, richer, and more powerful. This was truly the perfect alliance. 

Your dad’s body wasn’t ever cold yet when San got the call and the whole marriage circus began to play. At least the ceremony would be short and he would get to move into his room in your mansion and get it over with. San only met you that one time, but he remembered very well how you looked. In one word, terrifying. You would make the perfect fake wife. 

San watched you walk toward him dressed in black, a dress that covered your legs right above the knees but left little to his imagination from the way the cleavage showed off your round and soft breasts. He just politely nodded at you. At the end of the day, there was nothing to celebrate, your dad was dead and he had to pretend to be your loving husband for the rest of his life or until something or someone killed him. 

With no kiss to seal the deal, San just signed the papers and tried to give you a smile, which was awkward. 

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said. 

You returned the smile, less awkwardly, and patted his shoulder. For a split second, San saw something in you, maybe kindness, but that was all forgotten when you two started living together. 

_____________________________________

“Yeah… fuck, don’t fucking stop, don't fucking—” your voice bounces on the walls, you are so close. 

“Ah.. ah!” the deep voice behind you moans as he cums way too soon. 

San closes his eyes across the hallway. Why do you have to be so fucking loud? To be honest, he wishes he could shut you up once and for all. Moving in with you was necessary, he understands that, part of the arranged marriage and your agreement. However, San never imagined how opinionated and bossy you could be. One thing was your role as the new mafia leader, another thing was you ordering him around the house like some unloved pet. 

Tonight, nonetheless, San wouldn’t take that anymore, so he did something unexpected. He left his bedroom and went looking for you. Was he out of his mind? Probably, you specifically instructed to ‘stay the fuck away’ and since your marriage was fake, you could find carnal pleasure with anyone you wanted. 

San walked out of his bedroom. His pajama pants hanging low, his shirt forgotten somewhere in his room. He still wore his reading glasses and his black hair was wet, and slicked back. Your bedroom door abruptly opens and an unfortunate man flies out of your room. He is in his underwear trying to flee the scene grabbing his clothes as your upset persona watches not too far from the door. San’s curious eyes find your figure, and my oh my, what on earth are you wearing? 

If San didn’t know any better he would be jealous of the thin piece of clothing that gets to touch your soft skin. You have no shame as you stand there in front of your husband. The peach, sheer dress dances loosely on your body, however, it shows off your beautiful body. San can see your nipples hardening under such a provocative piece of clothing as his eyes scan even further south to find the core of your intimacy unclothed. 

“Cat got your tongue?” you ask. 

“N-no, I was just… taking a break from reading. I couldn't focus,” he crosses his arms across his chest and something in you wonders how you never paid any close attention to those broad shoulders and itty bitty tiny waist. 

“Was I being too loud? Apologies.” 

“Not at all, I believe you can be louder… with the right encouragement.” 

The audacity. He can’t speak to you like this… he has never done something so daring. Your heart races and a familiar heat travels from your chest down to your legs. 

“Go to your room, San,” you scold him and close the door. 

San rolls his eyes. He has had enough of you bossing him around as if he was your puppy or servant. So on this night, Choi San decided something. He will make you see him for what he is, an important part of your alliance, a capable, fierce man, and your husband. 

______________________________

The days pass and you haven’t seen much of San. You haven’t seen him at all. Is not a surprise not to see him or know of him for a day or two, however, it’s been 9 days since you had your little after-hours encounter. You sit in front of various members of the cartel and trusted members of the mafia your father once led. Theo, your father’s favourite and now your confidant, continues to sit to the right of the boss, you. 

“We are losing territory, it’s like we don’t have enough people from our side…” one protests. 

“The matter is getting resolved. I suspect there is someone infiltrated in one of our negotiations or maybe lines have been tapped–” 

You are cut mid-sentence when the doors are almost torn from their hinges and your husband enters the room. He is agitated, pulling a beaten man by the collar of his crimson-stained shirt, the same crimson colour that decorates San’s knuckles and hands. The stranger is pushed and kicked to your feet, and you almost feel pity for his bruised face. 

“Sorry to drop in unannounced, love,” San starts, leaving that last word resonating in your head. “This little rat here has something to tell us, don’t you?” San walks over to him and pulls him by the root of his hair making his eyes meet yours. “Look at my wife when you speak, scum, or do I need to break the rest of your fingers one by one?” 

And now you see it, his left hand, disfigured, broken bones making his muscles swell under his skin. 

“Speak,” you command. 

“I– I know who’s been feeding information to Viggiano.” 

As soon as you hear the name you stand from your chair and grab his face. 

“You better start talking before you lose your tongue as well,” you look at the disheveled man, then back at San. His eyes have such an intense glare, you’ve never seen him like this. It makes the hairs on your back rise.

“Pl-please no, I–” as the man stutters he keeps looking past you, which makes you turn to see Theo standing right there. The kindness in his eyes was now replaced by threat and fear. 

“No…” a small gasp leaves your lips. 

“You are never going to be the right person to lead, everyone knows–” Theo starts. 

Slap! You can’t believe the speed at which your body moved to hit your so-called uncle across the face. Two of your guards grab him by the arms, waiting for your command, but San is quicker. He bumps the disheveled man’s head with the table, knocking him unconscious. Like a predator to its prey, he walks towards Theo. You don’t see it coming but one punch from San and Theo is coughing blood. 

“That’s enough, San. You can go now.” 

San is in disbelief, but he lets out a deep chuckle that makes you and your company know he is indeed annoyed by your decision. 

“I want his nose and ears cut off, for being a liar and an eavesdrop, send them to Viggiano,” you walk towards the door. “Sleeping beauty over there loses his tongue. I want them both dead by midnight… oh and let this be an example of what happens if you betray your boss,” you finally exit the room, listening to the ‘yes ma’ams’ behind you. 

The night seems to be the longest one you’ve ever lived. This is not the first tough decision you make, but this is the first time someone close betrays you, and it hurts. It hurts bad, so you cry in the loneliness of your room. You curse. You throw things around and you scream. Everyone has been instructed not to bother you, except for one person. 

“May I come in?” San’s voice is soft outside the door. 

“Leave me alone!” 

San enters your room regardless and nothing stops him from getting to you. He holds your wrists. 

“You need to stop bossing me around, I know you are upset but I am not your puppy or your slave.” 

“You disappeared for 9 days and came home with a big surprise. Great! But you mean nothing to me, Choi San, and I mean nothing to you! Just get out before I call the guards.” 

“Nothing to you? Nothing to me!?” he is even more shocked than before and you see in his eyes that look he gave you when you got married but now it is enhanced. It is sympathy. It is agony. It is lust, pain, and love. Deep down you know he means something to you or you would have him dragged out of your room in this very minute. 

You don’t get to answer when San’s lips are already on yours and you find yourself kissing this handsome man back. This handsome man is legally your husband, but you have never kissed before. His lips are hungry and wanting, making you thirst for him as your tongues collide and his needy hands cup your ass. 

“See how lovely it can be when you don’t boss me around and you shut up.” 

Fuck.

The wetness between your legs just grows and you have no words to answer back. His mouth is on your delicate neck, oh he needs to make a work of art here, your skin looks like it could bruise easily. San sucks on various points, his tongue lapping over the marks he leaves behind. Your moaning goes from soft to breathy and impatient. One of your hands reaches under your nightgown and San slaps it away. 

“No, love, you don’t get to relieve yourself until I fucking say so. Now be a good pet and strip for me, would ya?” 

You take off your clothes as fast as you can, pathetic. A week ago, San was just the most annoying housemate, a convenient inconvenience, but now you’re here naked in front of him. His eyes are dark scanning your body, planning how he is going to ruin you, and you are going to let him do as he pleases. 

“On your knees.” 

And you drop to your knees looking up at his adoring face with a wicked smile. He lowers his pants just enough for you to see his cock already leaking for you.

“Such a good pet, would you help me out?” 

You continuously nod and pull his pants further down. His cock is beautiful, perfect, just like him. Slightly curved, just the right thickness, and a bit longer than average. You spit on it and start with your hand, jerking him off, up and down, up and down. Without interrupting the pace you lick his balls and earn the most sensual moan from San’s lips. So you put your mouth to work. You put him between your wet needy lips and push him in, sucking, tasting all of him. San’s breath is heavier when you start bopping your head up and down. He suddenly grabs your hair and takes control, fucking your face and watching you take it. To his eyes, you were already so beautiful, but this is something else.

“See how beautiful you look with your mouth shut, so obedient, now be a good wife and take this cock.” 

You moan at his words, how can they make you so horny when you had no plan of sleeping with him. The vibrations in your throat send San spinning and he is too close to cuming, but not yet. He pulls out of your mouth and helps you up, and with a slap to your ass, he takes you to bed. He signals you to straddle him. You normally don’t like eye contact with your sexual partners but there is something about San that makes it different. 

“Fuck yourself on my cock and I only want to hear how good it feels, okay?” 

You sit on his cock slowly, letting yourself adjust to his length and girth. When you start to bounce on top of him, San has to use all of his willpower not to drill into you like some kind of wild animal, he can do that any other time if you let him. The way you are making him feel is ecstatic. Your tits moving up and down so close to his face he has to suck on them. The feeling of his tongue on your nipples makes you want to cry for pleasure. You let out a high-pitched moan.

“Words, little pet, I wanna hear them– fuck,” San throws his head back as your pace becomes quicker. He slaps your ass, once, twice. 

“I love it, I fucking love it, San… fuck. I like it right there, so fucking perfect. I want you to fucking split me in half,” you just let words out, words derived from the ecstasy of having his cock buried deep inside you. 

And that was the queue for San to let go and fuck you like he wanted. Like you wanted. He now fucks you faster than the pace you set earlier. His hands bruising your hips, the skin-to-skin contact adding even more passion, and his eyes… His eyes on yours making you feel his, making you feel safe, making you feel you can let go and– 

“Fucking shit, I’m gonna cum… fuckfuckfuck!” 

And San holds you while your body trembles and your high makes your brain explode into a thousand little particles of pure lust and sin. Fuck the way your heart races, you can hear it in your ears. He puts you on the bed and your reaction time doesn’t catch up with your brain when your legs are wrapped around his waist and he is entering you. 

“San…” you whisper. 

He stops. He is unsure if this is too much and he is willing to stop. 

“San, San, San…” you keep saying his name like a plead, a prayer to the heavens as your hips move forward. You want more. 

“Bet. No one. Ever. Fucked you. Like. This.” San says between thrusts so deep you can feel him in your cervix. “Look at you all fucked out, my obedient pet, taking my cock so well, wanting to cum again. Is that what you want?” 

You nod desperately, anything for another intense orgasm with him. You only want this with him. His hands touching you, his moans on your ears, his voice commanding you to cum again and again. 

This time San fucks you slower, you can feel every inch of him inside you as you clench around his erection encouraging him to keep going. He grabs your thighs to pull you even closer to him, angling your hips higher making you not say his name, but scream it. 

“Yes, fuck, keep saying my name just like that.” 

So you did as he entered you, ruining you for any other man who dared match him. You were his, the man who saved your life and fucks you into oblivion. Now you were close, so close to your climax and you needed to cum like oxygen itself. 

“You don’t get to cum without me, hold it like the good pet that you are,” he says struggling to make a coherent sentence, he was very close too. 

You try hard not to cum before he does, but looking at him sweaty, chasing his high, fucking you as no one has done before does something to you. Your hands squeeze your tits together while your eyes close, trying to last longer. San could have combusted with that sight alone. 

“Cum– cum now… fuck!” 

The tightness in your belly is now free as you both cum. It is so fucking loud that your head hurts. His seed spills deep inside you and if you felt full before, now it’s even better, your legs feel like gelatin. San gently places them down. You are thinking he will probably leave you to go back to his room but he does the unexpected. 

His thumb is over your extremely sensitive clit and two of his slender fingers push his cum back inside you. You scream closing your legs. He smiles. 

“You need to take it all, love,” that’s it… the dom session is over and he uses that word that makes your heart flutter. 

“I can’t.” 

San licks your clit, tasting the mix of both of your releases. His fingers thrust in slowly, slightly angling up until you squirm under his touch. 

“Ah, right there? You like it there, love?”

“Mmmm-ugh yesfuck…ah–” you babble. 

San continues his tortuous pace until he latches once again his mouth to your clit. You see stars, you don’t know how your body is taking this, it is so fucking good, he is so fucking good. The way he keeps you on edge and makes you want more and more. Fuck, you can’t even think and you feel your body about to orgasm but something is different. 

“San, San… stop. I’m gonna–” and you squirt, drenching him in your juices. 

“That’s a good girl.” He licks your entrance once last time before collapsing beside you, his arms open inviting you to rest on his broad and hard chest. 

“You are not allowed to sleep in the other room anymore. From now on you sleep here, okay?” 

“You’re ordering me around, but I will follow your command. After all, you are my wife,” he hugs you tightly. 

__________________________________

a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨ —this took me forever but I am in love with this san! reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated and let me know if you would like to be part of the taglist.

#kpop smut #ateez smut #kpop fanfic #ateez fanfic #choi san hard hours #choi san smut #choi san scenarios #choi san x reader #san imagines #san smut #san scenarios #san hard hours #san hard thoughts #san x reader #ateez san smut #ateez san x reader #astayinwonderland #san fanfic #mafia au #mafia smut

[angelltheninth]

Imagine being the mafia boss's fiancée but then getting the hots for his new lacky. You fuck the new guy but Boss doesn't care because he knows that he can fuck you better. He calls the new guy to his room and then fucks you in front of him to show him how you like it. AND THEN you get to be fucked by both of them, all the while the Boss keeps praising you and the new guy both because you're both HIS.

#mafia romance #mafia smut #mafia imagine #mafia headcanon #mafia x reader #mafia x female reader

[euno11a]

Can I get a mafia yoongi Drabble where they are forced to get married. But at the last second the reader runs away and thinks the coast is clear but yoongi finds her and smut ensues??

Nah because I actually had a lot of fun writing this one 😭😭 I also tried writing with “Y/N” so let me know if you like it!

Warnings: mentions of smut (not completely tho), slight angst in a way??, runaway bride 🏃‍♀️👰‍♀️, kinda yandere vibes

The rain pounded against the windows of the small church as Y/N stood at the altar, her heart racing with fear and uncertainty. She couldn't believe this was happening. She was being forced to marry one of the most feared mafia leaders in the country, Min Yoongi.

She had always known about Yoongi and his infamous reputation in the underworld, but she never thought she would be caught up in it. Her father, who was deeply in debt to Yoongi, had made a deal with him to marry Y/N in order to clear his debts.

Y/N's hands were shaking as she held onto her bouquet of white roses, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. But she knew deep down that there was no way out. She was trapped in this marriage and there was nothing she could do about it.

As the priest began the ceremony, Y/N's eyes darted around the room, searching for any possible way out. But her hopes were dashed as she saw Yoongi's men stationed at every exit, guns at the ready.

'Y/N, do you take Min Yoongi as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?' the priest asked, his voice echoing in the quiet church.

Y/N's heart was pounding in her chest as she looked at the man standing before her, his dark eyes filled with a mix of determination and anger. She knew she had no choice but to say yes.

'I-I do,' she stuttered, her voice barely audible.

'Yoongi, do you take Y/N as your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?' the priest asked, turning to face Yoongi.

Yoongi's gaze never left Y/N's as he answered, 'I do.'

The priest pronounced them husband and wife, and Yoongi wasted no time in pulling Y/N into a searing kiss. Y/N tried to pull away, but Yoongi's grip on her was too strong. She could feel his anger and frustration through the roughness of his kiss.

As they pulled away, Y/N's mind was racing with thoughts of escape. She needed to get out of here, before it was too late. But before she could make a move, Yoongi's voice cut through her thoughts.

'Let's go home, Mrs. Min,' he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N's heart dropped at the sound of those words. She was now officially married to one of the most dangerous men in the country, and there was no turning back.

As they arrived at Yoongi's luxurious mansion, Y/N was greeted by a group of women who were to be her new servants. They showed her to her room, which was more like a prison cell. It had no windows and only one door, which she knew was guarded at all times.

Y/N couldn't believe the situation she was in. She was trapped in a loveless marriage to a man she barely knew, and she had no way out. But she refused to give up. She would find a way to escape, no matter what it took.

As the days went by, Y/N tried to make the best of her situation. She would often find Yoongi in his study, surrounded by his men, discussing business. She could see the ruthless side of him during those meetings, and it only made her fear him more.

But as the nights went by, Y/N found herself drawn to Yoongi's bedroom. She couldn't explain the pull she felt towards him, but she knew she needed him. She needed to feel something other than fear and resentment.

One night, as she lay in her bed, she heard noises coming from Yoongi's room. She couldn't resist the urge to see what was happening, so she quietly made her way to his room and peeked through the slightly open door.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Yoongi with another woman, his hands roaming her body as they kissed passionately. Y/N's heart shattered at the sight, but she couldn't look away.

Suddenly, Yoongi's eyes snapped open and he caught sight of Y/N standing in the doorway. Without a word, he pulled the woman off of him and stormed towards Y/N.

'What are you doing here?' he growled, his eyes blazing with anger.

'I-I heard noises and I-I wanted to see what was happening,' Y/N stuttered, trying to keep her voice steady.

'Get out,' Yoongi spat, his hand grabbing Y/N's arm and pushing her out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Y/N couldn't hold back her tears as she made her way back to her room. She couldn't believe that Yoongi was already cheating on her, just days after their forced marriage. She felt so alone and trapped, with no one to turn to.

But little did she know, Yoongi was also feeling trapped. He didn't want this marriage any more than she did, but he had no choice. He needed to maintain his reputation and keeping Y/N as his wife was the only way to do that.

As the days went by, Y/N couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. She could feel Yoongi's gaze on her at all times, and it only made her more anxious. She knew she needed to get out of here, before it was too late.

One night, as she lay in bed, she heard a noise outside her room. She cautiously got up and made her way to the door, hoping it was someone who could help her escape.

But as she opened the door, she was met with darkness. Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed her from behind and a cloth was placed over her mouth. She tried to scream, but the cloth muffled her voice. Before she could fight back, she fell into a deep sleep.

When she woke up, she found herself in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere. She looked around, confused and disoriented, until she saw Yoongi sitting in a chair across from her, a cold expression on his face.

'What is this place?' Y/N asked, her voice trembling with fear.

'It's a safe house,' Yoongi answered, his voice devoid of any emotion.

'Why am I here?' Y/N asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

'Because you tried to run away. I can't have my wife trying to escape,' Yoongi said, his eyes never leaving Y/N's.

Y/N's heart dropped at the mention of her forced marriage. She couldn't believe that she was still stuck in this situation.

'Please, just let me go. I won't tell anyone, I promise,' Y/N pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

'I can't do that, Y/N. You know too much about me and my business. I can't risk you going to the authorities,' Yoongi said, his voice cold and calculated.

Y/N's heart shattered at his words. She was just a pawn in his game, a means to maintain his power and control. She felt so helpless and alone.

But as the days went by, Y/N and Yoongi's relationship began to change. They started talking more and slowly, Y/N began to see a different side of Yoongi. He wasn't just a ruthless mafia leader, he was also a man who had been forced into this life, just like her.

One night, as they sat by the fire, Yoongi reached out and took Y/N's hand in his. She looked at him, surprised by his sudden gesture.

'I know this isn't the ideal situation, Y/N. But I want you to know that I won't hurt you. I never wanted this marriage, but I promise to protect you and keep you safe,' Yoongi said, his voice sincere.

Y/N's heart melted at his words. She never thought she would find any sort of comfort in this situation, but Yoongi's words gave her a glimmer of hope.

As they sat there, holding hands and talking, their conversation turned into something more. Yoongi's lips were on hers, and she couldn't resist him any longer. She needed this, she needed to feel something other than fear and resentment.

Their kiss turned into something more passionate and intense, and before they knew it, they were making love on the floor of the cabin. Their bodies moved in perfect synchronization, their moans filling the small space.

As they lay there, tangled in each other's arms, Y/N couldn't believe what had just happened. She had just made love to her forced husband, the man she was supposed to fear and hate.

But as Yoongi held her close, she couldn't deny the feelings she had for him. She knew that this was wrong and that she should hate him, but she couldn't. She was falling for him, and there was no turning back.

From that day on, Y/N and Yoongi's relationship changed. They were no longer just a forced couple, but two people who had found solace and love in the most unexpected situation.

As they returned to the mansion, Y/N knew that things would be different from now on. She was no longer a prisoner in this marriage, but a willing partner to the man she loved.

And as they walked through the door, hand in hand, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn of events. She had found love in the most unlikely of places, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

#bts #bts army #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #mafia yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #mafia smut #mafia #mafia au #runaway bride

[wakewritewrath]

Read this story and more on Wattpad @ WakeWriteWrath

#wattpad #wattpad smut #wattpad books #wattpad stories #wattpad writer #wattpad author #wattpad recommendations #wattpad romance #smut #smut stories #romance #mafia smut

[roo-ster-brad-shaw]

Desires in the Dark

A dark mafia romance between Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and female character

Warnings: Themes of torture, death, swearing, rough sex, sex without consent, kidnapping. Fluff and Smut. Suggested for those above 18 years of age.

Note: You can change the description and note of the fem character to match your needs. Most importantly enjoy reading all you filthy people 😉

Chapter 3

Last night had been a whirlwind. In celebration for joining in a new college, my friends had demanded a party in the club. I had no idea what to do and the only person I could ask for help without being shy was my best friend, Elani. I rushed into her room, slamming the door open.

“What the fuck am supposed to do? I don’t know which club would be good, which one would be enjoyable! I’ve never even gotten drunk and done anything fun!” I was almost about to cry by now thinking of all the pressure and the feeling of being so boring in my friend group.

“Aditi, first of all deep breaths. Which bitch cries over this?! Get yourself together you mother fucker!” She says good naturedly. Even tough I’m a typical INFP personality and she’s a complete INTP, we gel well together just because she understands that there are days when I need tough love and days when I just need comforting.

“Ok ok, I’m not crying. Now give me my solution!”

“Let’s go to the Hard Deck! I’ve heard it has good music, and it has amazing eye candy!”

“But isn’t it owned by a mafia gang, the Daggers?”

“So, you aren’t all innocent” I could see her smirk as she tried to make me blush.

“Ugh, I know the happenings in the city, even if I am new to it! And besides won’t it be dangerous for our first time?” Her smirking had worked and I had to hide my face in her blanket just to feel ok. She laughed seeing my state.

“It’s ok. I’m sure we’ll be perfectly fine. Besides it has to be a big celebration! You are now going to college!”

“You didn’t even do something that big when you started! Why should I then?!”

“I’ll celebrate with you! You’re just 21! Learn to live and enjoy, my love!”

“My parents will kill me if they ever found out I am going to a club let alone drink or get drunk!”

“No one has to tell them. Tell them not to call you because we are going to explore the city. I think they’ll be ok with that.”

“What would I ever do with you” I hugged her sighing at the amazing friend I had ended up getting in her.

I was lost in drinking and dancing when Elani pulled me closer to scream in my ears, “I need to go to the washroom!” She was barely audible over the raging music.

“Alright let’s go, I told her.” As we walked to the washroom, drink in hand, I bumped into a large man.

I spilled my drink all over his white shirt. Just by his smell I could tell he was rich. As I glanced up, the anger melted from his face. His softened. He asked me questions like my name and where I was staying. He asked me to pay for his shirt by sleeping with him. He was attractive, I couldn’t deny that. But something came over me as I instantly yet calmly refused. I could tell that he was extremely dangerous and going home with him tonight would not only disappoint my parents but also be unsafe. I declined by trying to appear as if I wanted to spend more time with him before that. Little did I know that would be the wrong move. I had hoped to make him feel as if I wasn’t the kind of girl who did such things and that would make him stop pursuing me but my strategy had failed miserably. He wanted to go to dinner with me tomorrow. I wanted to decline right then and there but I wasn’t sure how to do that without making me a target of his rage so I simply accepted his proposal.

Elani immediately pulled me aside as soon as he left, “Why did you say no?! He was perfectly sexy! You could have had a one-night stand!”

“I didn’t feel comfortable”, I mumbled as she pulled me into the washroom.

“It’s ok. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t push you like that.” She said as she embraced me. I gave her a small smile as we pulled away.

The ride home was quiet. We had gotten into a taxi and headed to our dorm and I had crashed onto the bed. I dreamt of him, the enigmatic stranger. I leaned up as he cupped my cheek. His palm travelled to my neck as he stroked my neck with his callused fingers. I whimpered in response.

He whispered into my ear as he pushed my dark hair aside, “I want you so badly, beautiful. C’mere.” He softly kissed my lips and I gasped at the sensation. He took that opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, claiming it.

“You’re mine, all mine, angel.” He mumbled against my lips as he smiled. He lightly trailed his wet kisses to my pulse point. He began to suck and lick it.

I hummed in response as I said, “No hickeys” My voice came out broken and almost whispered.

The scene expanded as we were now sitting on my bed. He straddled me, making me sit on his lap.

“I need you”, he whispered as he gazed into my doe like eyes, his hazel in contrast to my dark brown ones.

I nodded like a shy little child in his arms. He began to kiss my neck once again as his kisses trailed down to my breasts. He pulled my nightdress lower to get more access. I moaned in pleasure.

“You like that, huh, baby girl?”

I nodded lightly in response. My back was arching by now, needing him closer, needing him more.

He removed my dress over the top of my head as he glanced at my body.

“Not now, free me completely first” I said adamantly.

He smirked as he undid my bra and I removed my underwear. He tried to look at my body but I shut the lights. He switched them on again, with a puzzled expression on his face. I instantly wrapped my arms around my body, trying to cover every inch of it.

“What are you doing, baby girl?”, he asked quizzically.

I sighed, “I know you’ve seen prettier girls than this naked in your bed, and I’m not very pretty. So, I don’t want to feel disgusted when you look at me.”

“Move your hands”, he said gruffly. I felt scared as I looked into his eyes. They had darkened over and there was anger in them. I quietly did as I was told, wincing as I moved my hands. I had stretch marks all over my body, my boobs were huge and I hated that about myself. But what I hated even more was my stomach, a small paunch hung off my body. My upper arms were flabby and my thighs were too thick. I hated almost everything about my body, except my hair and face- they were my only source of confidence. I felt even more disgusting under his scrutinizing gaze. It’s as if I was under a microscope as he took in every inch of my skin.

He pulled me into his arms as he whispered into my ears, with a harsh voice, “You are absolutely not pretty, you are anything but pretty.” I wanted to cry as he said that. It felt like my heart had broken into a million pieces.

He continued, as tenderly as possible, “You are beautiful. So fucking gorgeous. I can’t keep my hands off of you, princess.” I whimpered as he bit my ear lobe, sucking it and I moaned his name. Although I didn’t know it yet, I felt like it would be something that would easily fall off my lips and have tons of nicknames hidden in it.

He continued again, in a serious tone, “Now you will be punished. How dare you say something so horrible and wrong about my baby girl?!” I blushed at his statement and buried my head in to his shoulder. He held my chin and made me look in to his eyes.

“Look at me baby girl, don’t look away”, he commanded. I nodded for a yes as he kissed my lips. He began to trail his kisses to my breasts. As he sucked them and rolled the tips in his warm fingers, I moaned his name.

“Good girl”, he growled into my breast. I smiled as he said that.

“You like it when I say that, huh?”, he smirked. I nodded enthusiastically. He laughed seeing me that happy.

He kissed my lips grinning a toothy grin, “God, you’re gorgeous! I just can’t stop kissing your lips!” I giggled in response.

He then moved to fingering me. He kept glancing at me as he did that. He loved it when I arched my back and he left kisses on my stomach. I moved my hands to his hair, gently running my fingers through his auburn curls. I moaned telling him how near I was.

“C’mere”, he mumbled as he entered me. He buried his head in my neck and his hands, which were beside my neck, grabbed the sheets, almost ripping them apart.

“God, you feel so good”, he breathily moaned. I could just moan his name, saying random gibberish, as much as I could muster. When the release came, it was absolutely amazing, or so I imagined. I had never had been in a relationship before let alone have sex so I only knew that the feeling was good, not how it actually felt. I imagined how good his cum would feel, wet and cold inside of me. Then as he removed himself from indie of me, he would cuddle me in his huge frame and how warm his body would be after the sex. I would bury my head into his chest and take in his manly scent as I would fall asleep.

I woke up immediately, cursing myself for enjoying that dream so much. Elani was awake, scrolling through her phone, blushing as she read the words on it.

“You enjoying that sexy time in your head?”, I asked smirking at her.

“You were supposed to be asleep!”, she said shocked and making herself proper.

“Guess who I just dreamt about?”

“Sexy time with a sexy stranger that you had sex with just by looking at his sexy-ness?”, she questioned, smirking.

“It feels like you like him more than I do?”

“Of course not, I would just support you if you went back to that bar right now and went home with him.”

I rolled my eyes and unlocked my phone to do some mindless scrolling on it. I noted the time- 10 am, as I saw the text message I had received.

Good morning, beautiful. Hope you slept well and dreamt of me. Just a reminder, we have a dinner date @7 pm today. I’ll send you a dress and pick you up. Don’t be late. Love, Bradley.

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

#top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun rooster #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #mafia rooster #mafia imagines #mafia fiction #rooster smut #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw mafia #mafia smut #mafia fluff #dark romance #dark au #rooster au #bradley bradshaw au

[miareadsbooks]

Taken by A sinner - Michelle Heard

16/05/23 - 16/05/23

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“It’s you and me from here on out. Together we'll rule, and together we’ll fall.” Her eyes brim with tears. “We’ll have to make sure we never fall.”

STOP THE WAY THIS BIG BAD MAFIA BOSS GOES SOFT FOR HER>>>>

I LOVEDDDD THIS BOOK SO MUCH, I JUST CLAIMED ANOTHER BOOK BOYFRIEND😭

Five things I loved about this book:

- He fell first

- The fact that he calls her ‘kardiá mou.’ meaning my heart.

- Look at her and i’ll kill you

- portrays mental illness well :)

- The way he’s such a cunt to every1 else but around her he’s soft>>>>

#book tumblr #booktok #booktube #book recommendations #spotify #book and coffee #mafia aesthetic #mafia romance #mafia x reader #mafia smut #kindle unlimited #kindle

[vibestillax]

For all my MAFIABUR lovers.

MAFIA! WILBUR'S LOVE MUST BE VIOLENT😍🤭

#mafia!wilbur #mafia fiction #mafia smut #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[t3kandson]

Frilly Dresses, Danger &

Doom.

Word count; 2,468

Fandom; AB6IX

Ratings; Explicit

Pairing; Reader X Jeon Woong & Reader X Park Woojin

Characters; Park Woojin, Jeon Woong, Lee Daehwi & Kim Donghyun

Warnings; Angst, mentions of Kidnap and stalking.

Notes; Chapter 3/12 of part two.

Earlier Part & Chapters found here.

Your heart dropped when you heard those words. “Why is she there?” You barked, “I don’t know I think she’s sick, she’s been visiting quite a few times recently,” Daehwi replied. “We need to find out why?” you said sounding concerned, your hand reaching for your necklace.

She had been poorly before she left you, had you holding her hostage made her that unwell. Maybe she was unwell because she missed you, a slight smile spreading across your face. You knew the feeling, your life hadn’t been the same since.

“Have her watched more,” you ordered your younger brother. You mentally heard his eyes roll and you smiled knowing that he had acquired a soft spot for her that he wouldn’t hesitate to keep a more closer eye on her. “Just make sure she doesn’t see you,” you said biting your lips. “Daehwi you haven’t told Woong have you?” you asked. “No he’s too busy filling into your shoes these days to care about anyone let alone Y/N,” he said sounding a little disappointed.

All you thought of was of Y/N, worrying for her health. Holding every memory of her the way she smelt, the Way she smiled, her smart mouth, her grip around your throat which always made you smile. The way the pain burned when she grinded alongside your days old shot wound. The wound that your own brother caused because he knew you and Y/N had fallen for each other, a permanent mark and all you had left from her.

Your thoughts was disrupted when the phone went, it was your father. He had asked for you to visit Woong, their was trouble brewing from the mess Woong and Youngmin caused with Jonghee. Apparently he was alive hanging on in intensive care like most of his fallen men. But rumours of your family link to them was floating. Your father’s concern for your brothers and their ability to deal with it had you ordered to return.

You had mixed feelings being back in the same country then Y/N. The desire to watch over her threatening to make your usual stern reasoning feel a little too fluffy for your liking.

You was sat in a local bar with Woong when your phone rang. You excused them to the quiet garden answering the phone to a worried Daehwi. “She’s back at the hospital again,” he panted. Your heart fell, she must be really poorly to be back there. “Follow her, find out what department she’s in,” you ordered. “That’s the thing Hyung, I already have and yeah well she ……….” Daehwi said before disappearing. You looked at your phone it’s lifeless black screen in your focus. “Fuck,” you cursed, the phone had died, you had come straight from the airport. You tossed your dead phone back into your pockets, your mind running through all sort of scenarios that could have her unwell.

“Are you even listening to me?” Woong growled as you was hugging your whisky. “Yes I am,” you replied, Woong’s eyes glaring over you with frustration. “Your such a liar, who was on that call that got you so lost?” he asked, looking a little concerned. “What call?” you scoffed, downing the whisky burning your throat. “The one that had you rush out to the garden to take,” Woong said raising his eyebrow at you. “That was Daehwi it was nothing, his usual droning on,” you said trying to sound uninteresting.

Woong’s phone then went off and he excused himself to leave. It wasn’t long before Donghyun arrived as he slouched next you on the stools around your table when Woong returned looking a little frazzled.

“We need to take this somewhere a little private,” he said his face looking concerned. “Their about to wake him,” he said glaring at you, your heart sunk knowing what he meant. Once he was awake he would know what your family had done.

You left the bar, but before you could get into the car your eyes widened, standing across the road behind Woong was her. Your Y/N, she looked radiant, she didn’t look unwell. “I’ll meet you back at the house,” you said to Woong before watching his quizzing Scoff and enter the car. You hastily dashed across the road following the path that you last saw Y/N. You barely saw her in the distance entering a shop with her mother.

You stumbled into the shop, your eyes searching for her, the desire to see her up close overpowering yourself. It was then you felt some hands clasp over your shoulder and you spun to see Donghyun looking at you, his eyebrows raised. “What are you doing in a baby shop?” he quizzed. But before you could even reply noticing the baby items surrounding you, his face paled as his eyes froze behind you.

“Is that Y/N?” he whispered as you spun around. Donghyun was right she was in a baby shop looking up baby clothes. Frilly pretty little dresses in her view as she was feeling the material. “Brother why is she here?” Donghyun whispered. “Maybe she’s buying a outfit for a pregnant friend,” you replied.

You then remembered your calls with Daehwi, he was about to tell you why she was at hospital. Your heart thumped, you needed to get closer, hear what she was saying. “Really?” You heard her question her mother who was gleaming with pride as she took the dresses in. “Well my granddaughter deserves the best,” she said looking at you with pride as her eyes took to your stomach. Y/N moved to her side and their was no mistake a small but defiant bump on display.

Your legs almost gave way, she was pregnant. Was that your baby? Was you about to be a dad? You stumbled reaching the clothes rack in-front. She turned your direction, you moved with her throwing yourself to the floor, your weakened legs happy to oblige as you crawled around trying not to be seen. It was then you found Donghyun. “Brother what the hell you doing,” he chuckled. You yanked his arm down. “Get down before she sees us,” you growled. “It’s just Y/N,” he chuckled trying to stand up. “She can’t see us, ever,” you scowled at him. His face looking saddened as he remembered the pact you had shared.

“What is she doing here anyway did you find out?” he said peeking through the racks. “Wait that’s a bump,” he whispered. “She’s pregnant, is that Woongs baby do you think?” He said. Your heart sunk remembering their time spent together. You knew they had slept together several times compared to your one hot time with her in the car on the way home.

The chances was that was Woong’s baby she was carrying, but the slight chance that baby was yours crept into your thoughts.

“Just because your in a baby shop doesn’t mean you have to crawl around like baby’s,” a voice chuckled above you. Daehwi was standing their arms folded but a grin at seeing his hyungs hiding. “It’s ok she left just now,” he chuckled as you stood up, you yanking his collar.

“She’s fucking pregnant and you didn’t say,” you said shaking him as he brushed your hands off him. “Hyung I did say, it’s not my fault your phone died on me,” he said scowling. “I even know there’s no father noted down too and how far gone she is,” he said smirking. “Please tell me it’s Woongs baby,” Donghyun said excitedly like a school child that earnt you scowling at him.

“Yes she’s 18 weeks pregnant, that’s our flesh and blood she’s carrying,” Daehwi said with an almost doe eyed expression. “That’s great news, because bringing a child to our world is what we want,” you scoffed, your brothers both looking at the floor saddened. “We made a deal, what ever happens we stay away, and we can’t tell Woong. We both know he would be the first to break that promise,” you said looking serious at them. “But Hyung she’s pregnant that changes things,” Daehwi said looking softened. “And that expression right their puts her and that baby in danger,” you scowled at him. “Once people realise that baby belongs to us that baby will have a price on their head,” you added. “Her head,” Daehwi replied with a sickly sweet smile, “it’s a girl,” he added his grin widening.

You felt the dizziness return when you realised it was dresses they was looking at and her mother described the baby as her granddaughter. Y/N was carrying your daughter, or possibly your daughter. You put your hand to your head to help you recompose your expression. Daehwi and Donghyun looking at you like you was a parent deciding if they could have a puppy. “That makes it worse, can you imagine what they can do to a girl especially when she gets older, or have you all forgot how we met Y/N,” you said, their face falling as they took your words. “Look I’ll ring Taehoon, I’ll get a team put on to watch and keep her safe. But we have to stay away, and not a single word to anyone. No one can know she’s carrying one of our family members babies,” you said.

You stayed longer then you should, the situation with Jonghee calming down as the attempt to wake him up not being fruitful. You was packing your belongings to go home, when Woong busted through the door. “He’s awake Woojin,” he said panting looking shaken. “If they go searching for Y/N and find her,” he gulped pausing, “I won’t ever forgive myself,” your heart thudding in its wake. You couldn’t have Y/N anywhere near you and Woong. You promised to never come back, you knew her heart couldn’t say goodbye twice. You knew she had a boyfriend, your heart splintering at the thoughts of those two together when Taehoon told you. Your heart feeling heavy at imagining those two together, that she had moved on so quickly. But at the same time you felt gratitude, he was going to keep that baby safe, play the dad you knew you could never be. A chance to be normal, have a safe life.

But things had changed. Because of Woong, because of you she was in danger, so was the baby. You reached into the draws holding the keys to your secret lodge in Baeksasil Valley. “Get Donghyun and Daehwi to take her here,” you ordered him. “While me and you find a way to bring calm down here,” you added, his face fell at your suggestion but he took the keys and left.

It wasn’t long before your meeting with Woong and your men was cut short by Daehwi and Donghyun’s return. You was taken back as they should be on their way to Baeksasil Valley and not here. You scowled as their sorrowful face met yours and Woongs. You both threw worried glances at each other across the table. You excused yourself encouraging Woong to continue with the meeting. He looked hazily at your frustration at being kept out the loop.

You three made your way to the corridor your finger on your lips before you found yourself in the business sitting room. “Please tell me you didn’t bring her here,” you spluttered. “She’s not here,” Donghyun said, his eyes refusing to meet yours. “She refused to come,” Donghyun added into the silence. “What? you telling me you left her there?” You growled. “Brother she doesn’t want anything to do with us, she told us to leave her alone, and to stop following her,” Donghyun said his eyes watering. “Could none of you drag her ass here,” you shouted, the panic rising in your throat. “She’s pregnant what did you want us to do? drag her kicking and screaming stressing her out while pregnant?” Donghyun choked.

“Well now we know it’s not Woong’s baby and that boyfriend of hers we should have done just that,” Daehwi said rolling his eyes. You gasped in his direction, “That’s right she told us to leave her, that pretty boy and there baby alone,” he said coldly. “I told you she was bad news but you and Woong wouldn’t have it,” he added. “Daehwi, and you said your the clever one, do you ever listen to Taehoon. He’s basically acting the dad, he isn’t one,” you bit out. “No brother your wrong she swore that baby was his, apparently they slept together as soon as you dropped her home. That’s how much she’s pining after us,” Donghyun said scrunching his face.

No this had to be Y/N being stubborn, she wouldn’t have told you she loved you and fallen for someone else. That baby had to be yours or if not yours Woongs, but not another.

“Wait if your here who’s watching her?” You quizzed. “She told us to go so we left, I’m not babysitting a whore,” Daehwi spluttered. “Daehwi she still pregnant and she’s still in danger because of us, because of Woong and also You,” you shouted. “What more can I fucking do,” Daehwi screamed, you felt your blood pressure rise. What had she said to turn him anti on her again. “Daehwi I’m not asking I’m telling you, get back there and watch over her, nothing’s changed,” you growled your face inches from his.

“What’s going on brother?” Woong asked entering the room not long after Donghyun and Daehwi left. “Y/N being a typical Y/N that’s all,” you said pouring a whiskey. “She refused to come didn’t she?” he asked. You knocked the whiskey back. “Can you blame her,” he added as you poured another shot. “All we’ve done is try to kill her and pimp her out,” he said as you knocked back another shot letting your throat burn. “What are we going to do?” he asked. “You and me are going to solve a way, leave Donghyun and Daehwi to keep Y/N safe,” you said pouring another shot letting the lightheaded feelings spread through you. Your brain was Beginning to hurt and you hated over thinking.

Two days had passed and you received that call the one you feared. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but they have her,” Taehoon’s voice chilled down the phone. Your heart sunk, before you could respond a curdling scream left your mouth, everything near you was thrown or smashed. Your brothers rushing to the room. Woong’s arms trying to cradle you. “They have her, They have her,” you cried as your legs went. Woong’s face paled as he fell into you, silence leaving his lips. Donghyun and Daehwi’s faces twisted to glance at each other.

Because of you, Y/N and the baby was in more danger then ever!

Previous Chapter. Next Chapter

Masterlist

#kpopidol #fiction #kpop smut #ab6ix smut #jeon woong #park woojin #lee daehwi #kim donghyun #Ab6ix #mafia smut #mafia fanfic #mafia

[euno11a]

Can I get a mafia jungkook smut in the balcony of a penthouse of a tall newyork building (im sorry my English is bad) just make it very nasty and filthy pls.

Yo I just woke up and saw this😭 I can totally do it and your English is very good!

Warnings: I honestly just write rough sex, enjoy you nasty people 😏

18+ ONLY

The air was thick with tension as Jungkook, the notorious leader of the New York City Mafia, stood on the balcony of his penthouse. He leaned against the railing, his eyes scanning the cityscape below. He could feel the eyes of his men on him, their silent admiration for their fearless leader evident in their gaze.

But Jungkook had something else on his mind tonight. He wanted her. The woman who had been haunting his dreams for weeks. Her name was Y/N, a fierce and beautiful member of a rival gang. But to Jungkook, she was more than just an enemy. She was a challenge.

He turned to his men, his voice low and commanding. 'Leave us,' he said, his eyes never leaving the city below.

They obeyed without question, knowing better than to defy their leader. Jungkook watched as they filed out of the penthouse, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He closed his eyes, picturing Y/N's face, her fiery spirit, and her body, oh her body. He could feel himself growing hard at the mere thought of her.

When he opened his eyes, she was standing before him, her eyes blazing with defiance. 'What do you want, Jungkook?' she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

He smirked, taking a step closer to her. 'You,' he said, his voice husky with desire.

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. 'I'm not some toy for you to play with,' she said, her tone challenging.

Jungkook chuckled, his eyes raking over her body. 'Oh, I know that,' he said, his voice dripping with lust. 'But I also know that you want me just as much as I want you.'

Y/N's face flushed with anger, but Jungkook could see the desire burning in her eyes. He reached out and grabbed her waist, pulling her roughly against him. She gasped, but didn't push him away.

Their lips crashed together in a frenzy, their tongues battling for dominance. Jungkook's hands roamed over her body, his touch rough and possessive. He could feel her body responding to him, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

He pulled away, his lips trailing down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake. He reached up and pulled down the zipper of her dress, the fabric falling to the floor in a heap. He stepped back, taking in the sight of her standing before him in nothing but her black lace lingerie.

'Beautiful,' he murmured, his eyes dark with desire.

Y/N's cheeks flushed at his words, but she didn't have time to respond as Jungkook pulled her to him once again, his lips claiming hers in a heated kiss. He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the edge of the balcony.

'Jungkook, what are you doing?' she gasped, her heart racing with excitement and fear.

He didn't answer, instead, he pushed her back against the railing, the cool metal pressing against her skin. He knelt down, his lips trailing down her stomach, leaving a trail of kisses as he went. When he reached her panties, he tore them off with his teeth, his mouth finding its way to her core.

Y/N moaned loudly, her fingers tangling in Jungkook's hair as he pleasured her with his tongue. He could feel her body trembling with need, her moans growing louder with each passing second.

'Jungkook, I need you,' she gasped, her voice desperate.

He stood up, his lips claiming hers once again as he lifted her up, her back pressed against the cold glass of the balcony. He positioned himself at her entrance, teasing her with his tip before thrusting into her with one swift movement.

Y/N cried out, her nails digging into Jungkook's back as he filled her completely. He began to move, his thrusts rough and unrelenting. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, their moans and cries filling the air as they reached new heights of pleasure.

'Harder, Jungkook,' she begged, her voice raw with need.

He complied, his hips slamming into hers with a force that left her breathless. They were lost in a world of pleasure, the sounds of their moans and the city below the only things that existed.

Jungkook could feel himself getting closer to the edge, his body tense with need. He could tell Y/N was close too, her body trembling in his arms.

'Come for me, Y/N,' he growled, his voice filled with desire.

And with one final thrust, they both reached their climax, their bodies shaking with the intensity of their release. They collapsed against each other, their breathing heavy and their bodies spent.

Jungkook pulled Y/N into his arms, his lips trailing down her neck as they caught their breath. 'You're mine now,' he whispered, his voice filled with satisfaction.

Y/N chuckled, her fingers tracing circles on his chest. 'Just for tonight,' she said, her voice teasing.

But they both knew it wasn't just for tonight. They were bound to each other now, their passion and desire for one another too strong to ignore.

As they stood on the balcony, looking out over the city, they both knew that this was just the beginning of their story. A story filled with lust, danger, and a love that was as dangerous as it was intense. And they wouldn't want it any other way.

#bts #bts army #bts jungkook #bangtan #jungkook #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #bts smut #mafia smut #mafia au #mafia #mafia jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n

[wakewritewrath]

#wattpad #wattpad stories #wattpad smut #writing #mafia smut #wattpad writer #wattpad romance #wattpad recommendations #wattpad author #wattpad novel #wattpad books

[roo-ster-brad-shaw]

Desires in the Dark

A dark mafia romance between Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and female character

Warnings: Themes of torture, death, swearing, rough sex, sex without consent, kidnapping. Fluff and Smut. Suggested for those above 18 years of age.

Note: You can change the description and note of the fem character to match your needs. Most importantly enjoy reading all you filthy people 😉

Chapter 1

Bradley sighed as he sat down in his club. It had been a very long and exhausting day for him. He removed his Ray Ban sunglasses and closed his eyes. Blood red flashed in his mind. The days events were harrowing but they were nothing compared to what he had been through. He opened his eyes and turned his gaze towards the bar. He knew what would take his mind off this shit- a cold drink and a hot, fuckable chick in bed. He never liked romance with most girls as most of the girls who approached him threw themselves at him, wanting him just for his money and the chance to be seen with a mafia guy. He tried to get up but his bodyguard stopped him from going anywhere.

“C’mon Jeff, don’t be such a dickwad. Just let me get some drinks and I can go home with a pretty one.” He was rolling his eyes by now. Working with this new bodyguard was proving to be a whole lotta pain in the ass than actual protection. But that’s how new bodyguards are- overtly enthusiastic and extra protective- like boys in a new relationship.

“Sir, first of all my name is Jake. Secondly, it’s against protocol.”

“Protocol my ass Seresin”

“Oh, so can remember names, surprising”

“Fuck off Seresin! Just let me blow off some steam!” The nerve of him to talk back! That little runt! Bradley was about to explode by the time he reached the bar and grabbed a stool.

He ordered his usual, his favourite imported bruichladdich x4 quadrupled whisky. It was seriously expensive and only spared for him. Most people would find it stupid to even buy a drink of such an expensive delicacy let alone buy a whole crate of the bottles, but Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw wasn’t a normal person. He was the leader of one of the most powerful mafia gangs of San Diego, California. He could afford the whole company that made these whiskies, but he chose not to. He was a mafia lord not an impulsive idiot who bought whatever he liked. He took his first sip and hummed in response. He always loved how the syrupy textured whisky tasted incredibly clean but still had citrusy and woody notes with those of vanilla.

He began to nurse the liquor and as he took in the surroundings. Bodies grinded against each other in rave like disco lights of the club. People had drinks in their hands and were dancing like animals on the dance floor. These sort of sights no longer fazed Bradley; he was used to such things in high end parties of the elite. His pant pocket vibrated as he downed his second drink.

“Mission complete, we’ve found Brody’s brother’s location” The voice said on the other side.

“Remind me again why we couldn’t just torture those idiots further to get to Brody”

“Rooster, you know why- Brody has shifted his base of operations to France, he’s left his brother in charge of cleaning up any remaining messes here and that’s why he’s left none of his personal bodyguards here.”

“Just blow him up Phoenix! I don’t give two fucks about that son of a bitch! You know I need Brody!”

“Are you drunk?” She asked with the most straight voice ever.

“Absolutely not! What do you think of me?!”

“God, I’ve gotta stop calling you at such points at night. I’m calling Mav”

“You’d better not, Nat! You know I always call him!” He was trying to be stern but his speech was slurring by now.

“You are drunk and out of your mind now Bradley. Let me inform him, you can discuss it in detail tomorrow after I give you the details.”

“Why are you always the pragmatic one?” He questioned with annoyance yet in a baby like wonder of her intelligence.

“Goodnight, Roo. Get some good sleep.” She sighed, almost smiling by now.

“Goodnight.” His words becoming a complete mumbo jumbo and mishmash by now.

He put down the phone and glanced at his surroundings once again, his mind was once again trailing back to the torture session he had conducted before reaching the bar. He had tortured the hell out of the bodyguard of Cody, Brody’s younger brother. He closed his eyes, trying to move on but his mind could not go beyond.

He remembered as he walked into the room followed by his bodyguards. Phoenix stood there brandishing a pair of intricately carved daggers. Bradley had never liked such close combat weapons, they were never his style, but he respected Natasha too much to say anything to her. She had saved his life once, and the way in which she had handled that difficult situation was what had earned her the respect.

“Who do we have here, Phoenix?” He said in a sing-song manner.

“Tora, one of the bodyguards for Cody.”

“So Tora”, Bradley asked while taking the knife from Natasha and twirling it in his fingers, “Where is Cody?”

“I will never tell you!” Tora screamed as he spat blood onto Bradley’s face

“You will pay for that bitch!” Natasha screamed in anger, raising her second knife to stab him

“Stop, Nat!” Bradley screamed

“Why the fuck should I?! This bitch had the nerve to spit at you! He shall suffer!”

“Nat, calm down. Let me have my revenge.”

Bradley called for Jake “Hangman, hand me my tools please”

“Gladly, sir” Jake replied as he handed Bradley a black bag

“Now you will suffer runt” Bradley said smirking at Tora. He slowly stepped closer to him, whispering in his ear while holding him in place by fisting his hair “I will make you suffer so badly that you will beg for death. And I will eventually grant you that gift but not before you give me the necessary information regarding the location of Cody”

Tora turned pale seeing the smile on Bradley’s face as he steeped away from him. He knew there was no escaping the pain, this was a sadistic man who enjoyed giving pain to others.

Bradley’s ears rang with the screams of Tora as he begged for mercy while Bradley tortured him in various ways. He hated the voices in his head, he wanted them to stop, he wanted relief. His white in shirt was soaked with his sweat as his eyes shot open. He shook his head, now feeling like a child being made to watch a Saw movie, and headed towards the washroom. He could feel Hangman trailing him but he chose to ignore him. He entered the washroom and grunted at the couple making out inside. The woman turned towards him and raised her brows in irritation. His eyes narrowed his eyes to slits and realisation dawned on her. She rushed out with her man in tow. He washed his face and looked into the mirror. He sighed, feeling the weight lifting off his shoulders. He wiped his face as he prepared to head home for the day.

As he was exiting the restroom, he felt someone bump into him. It was a girl and she had spilled her pretty purple and pink cocktail all over his white in shirt, he quickly realised. He wanted to scream at her, to push her away! How dare she be so careless with the owner of the club! His anger melted away in an instant as she looked up at him with her deep brown eyes.

Her warm, doe-like, sweet eyes bore into his hazel and cold ones as he could see the fear in them. The alcohol on her breath was easily noticeable. She was dark-skinned and had straight dark brown, almost black hair. Her strong perfume mixed with her angelic features intoxicated his senses. He looked down her almost 5’ 5” frame. She was petite and chubby, but that only added to her cute and teddy-bear-like features. She wore a pretty knee-length lilac dress, definitely not suited for a club setting but the sheer components of the dress coupled with her soft, almost no-makeup makeup look added to her charm. She was breadth of fresh air amongst the girl always vying for his attention.

“I am so sorry, sir” She spoke in an accent that was almost between and Indian and American accent, almost as if she wanted to emulate an American one.

“It’s fine. What’s your name?” He asked gruffly, lost in her deep eyes as he caged her warm, tiny body in his arms.

“It’s Aditi, sir” She said as she averted her gaze, suddenly more interested in her black heels.

“You from around here?”

“Not really”

“Where you staying tonight?”

That was quite forward of him, she thought as she replied, “At one of my friend’s places”

He could see the puzzled look on her face as she gave her response. “Now, how are you gonna pay for ruining my perfectly good and terribly expensive Armani shirt?”

“I’m really sorry, sir. But I’m just a college student, I can’t afford such things”

“How about you pay me back in a different way, perhaps a spend a night with me?”

“Sir, I can’t do that. I’m really sorry.” She apologised a lot Bradley realised. He sighed. He was used to girls complying with him, this one was different.

“Then I guess I’m gonna have to cash in my favour some other time?”

“I suppose so” She mumbled

“But the favour I’ll cash in then, will be much more expensive as I charge a heft interest”

“I can’t help it, sir. My body isn’t something to be used as payment. My time on the other hand is. Afterall, time is money.”

He smirked. This one is shy yet bold, he thought. “Alright. Join me for dinner tomorrow.”

“Okay” She mumbled again

“Goodnight” He whispered into her ear as his nose nuzzled against her soft chocolate like skin. Her skin smelled like a chocolate bar and the deep floral perfume she wore mage him feel like he wanted to eat her right then and there.

He walked away with a bulge in his pants. He needed relief. He scanned the crowd for a girl. Once he found a skimpily dressed girl, he approached her, doing the usual act of charming her by making her press against his 6 feet body as she swayed her hips, unabashedly. He whispered in her ears, “My place tonight, baby”, as he felt her knees go weak. He threw her over his shoulder and carried her to his car.

Jake was sulking nearby when he saw Bradley headed for the exit. He rushed after him, cursing his boss under his breadth for not informing him of his departure. By the time he reached the car, he saw Bradley dump a girl into the back seat. He quickly occupied the driver’s seat as he heard Bradley order him to take them home. Jake promptly obeyed as he drove the car out of the parking lot. He rolled his eyes when he heard the needy sounds of the girl as Bradley kissed her pulse point. Something he noted as he moved the rear-view mirror in an attempt to avoid breaching the couple’s privacy was that Bradley never kissed her lips. He kissed her body in a needy manner but never her lips. He found this behaviour utmost strange. But then, when a man can flirt with more than one girl in the span of less than an hour and attempt to take both of them home while doing so, could any of his behaviours be called less than strange?

Bradley lifted the girl, bridal style as he took her to his bedroom. The girl was partially undressed with her cleavage generously displayed for him to ogle at. As her threw her onto his bed, he quickly undressed himself and then proceeded to undress the woman in front of him. He then began to leave kisses down her neck, reaching her breasts, stomach and then finally reached her wetness. He began to feast on her as he used his tongue expertly while his fingers rubbed her clit. She was a moaning mess screaming his name. Bradley closed his eyes and imagined touching Aditi till she was moaning his name. As he absentmindedly began to finger the woman, his mind drifted to Aditi. How his name would fall from those pretty cherry lips of hers, how she would thread her fingers through his silken locks, how he would come back up to give her a taste of her arousal on his lips and how while doing so he would brush her dark hair away from that full-moon like face of hers. Fuck, he needed her.

As the pain from his hardness brought him back to reality, he heard the woman saying how she was near and needed him to come in her. He rolled his eyes and reached his hand over to his night stand. He opened one of the drawers to procure a condom, protected sex was always safe, specially when dealing with one-night stands. He slipped the rubber on to his shaft as he entered the woman. He grabbed a pillow and put it on the woman’s shoulder as he buried his head into it. He imagined his Aditi’s beautiful moans as he made love to her, not fucked her like he was currently doing to this woman. He wanted to bury his head into her neck and smell her cocoa skin. He imagined the smell of her perfume mixed with her moisturizer that she had worn tonight. Ugh, he needed to be near her again. As he came inside her, he rested in her for a few more moments before pulling out to switch positions. He made her sit on top of his lap as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. He yanked her head away as he pulled her hair. He then entered her as she arched her back. He began to massage one of her nipples and sucked the other one, then vice-versa. As he jerked of inside her, still wearing his condom, he removed himself from her and disposed off his condom.

He then got up from the bed as he heard her whimper, “Are you not gonna stay in bed, Rooster?”

“Absolutely not. I’m gonna take a hot shower and you better wear your dress and get the fuck out of my bed before I return. My bodyguard will be waiting downstairs for you. He’ll drop you home.”

“And if I’m not gone, then what will you do? Punish me?” She was trying to be sexy by batting her eyelashes at him but he was not in the mood.

“Yep babydoll, I will punish you by putting this gun into your mouth and pulling the trigger, so start getting the fuck off.” He said with a smile on his face and venom dripping from his voice.

The woman still did not believe him until she saw the gun he was holding in his hand. She swallowed and quickly got up from the bed and grabbed her dress as she exited the room. Bradley sighed as he messaged Jake from his phone. He then proceeded to head into his bathroom and took a scalding hot shower to make himself feel sleepy. Even then she plagued his thoughts, his beautiful Aditi. He imagined washing her all throughout as aftercare for their intense love making sessions. He came out of his reverie and exited the bathroom after partially drying himself yet his head still having beads of water clinging to beachy hair. He dried himself completely as he imagined drying her off, tying her hair with a towel to naturally dry her dark hair. He then grabbed a thick pillow, fell face first into the bed, then readjusted his position while burying his head into the side of the pillow, imagining how it would be to bury his head in the crook of her neck. He switched the AC to a chilly 16 degrees and grabbed his comforter as his eyes drooped and he fell into a deep, nightmare-less sleep.

Chapter 2

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[gutsby]

Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.

You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frankly, you were mortified.

And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.

You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less than a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,

“Put it down.”

You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.

Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.

“Are we done?”

Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.

You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.

Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.

Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.

His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.

“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better part of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”

That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.

“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.

“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.

At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.

“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.

A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.

“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”

It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.

Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.

“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.

At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.

Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.

Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.

The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.

“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.

“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

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