#Mafia Au

[distinguishedblazesandwich]

#maybelline #dirndl #170728 #exercise #flores #mafia au #ak #one sided #gadget

[cannedpickledpeaches]

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Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven!

Notes and TW: Last chapter! Side stories will follow. Thank you for sticking with this series for so long! This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

7:30 P.M. DD/MM/YYYY

I thought I knew the truth for a while—that this world existed inside a story. That this was a world which revolved around a nameless, faceless, flawless main character. This entire world around me existed to serve one purpose: to present trials to the main character until she eventually finds a happy ending with her one and only. This world was created for “(Y/N).”

I was Friend A. Friend A was never mentioned again after page two of that story.

It turns out that I was sort of wrong. This world is made for stories, from stories, and (Y/N) happened to be the main character at the time. Now that I’m the author, I made myself the main character.

You wrote “story” and “world” so much that they hardly look like real words anymore. The tip of your pen hovers over the first page of your journal. It’s your first time keeping one, and you aren’t certain how to proceed. What tone do you use? Should it be informal or professional? How long should each entry be? How detailed should you make it?

The trapdoor to the attic flips open. Floyd’s head pokes through it like a garden eel in the sand.

“Whatcha doin’ over there? Still lookin’ for that manuscript?”

You shake your head. The manuscript for (Y/N)’s story disappeared without a trace after your meeting with Hans. No matter how hard you searched, nothing turned up, so you could only assume he retrieved it.

“No use in looking for it. I’m starting on my journal.” The pen twirls in your hand. “I’m not really sure how I want to write it.”

He hoists himself up and saunters over to where you’re curled up at the window. He peers at your handwriting. Flippantly, he flops on the floor next to you and yawns.

“Who caaares. Write whatever ya feel like writin’. It’s not like the one before was any good.”

The previous author’s manuscript was riddled with inconsistencies, plot holes, and grammar mistakes. It wouldn’t be a massive problem. Hans would simply have to work harder to fill in the gaps.

“The previous one failed, though.”

“Then just don’t fail.” He grins up at you. “Easy, right?”

You pinch his nose, laughing when he swats at your hand.

“Easier said than done.” Despite that, his words ease the burden on your shoulders just a bit. You don’t need to overthink this. It’s your story, yours to tell however you’d like. “Thanks for the advice, though.”

“Sure, sure.” Your name rolls off his tongue dismissively. “You worry too much.”

You glance at him. “You’ve been calling me ‘Red Handfish’ recently, why’d you switch back to my name?”

The lamplight glints in Floyd’s eyes briefly, then he closes them. A lazy grin spreads on his lips.

“I was calling ya ‘Red Handfish’ ’cuz I was hopin’ you’d get your hands all red and bloody again.” A huff of air escapes him. “Shoulda been there when you beat up the security.”

“Typically, you’re supposed to not hope I’m beating up your men.”

“It’s fine. Not like Jade and I need much protectin’.” His voice quiets down to a mumble. “You’re enough for security or whatever.”

His voice trails off at the end. Soon, quiet snores fill the attic. Seeing that he isn’t planning on disrupting your writing, your attention returns to your journal. Following his advice might not be a bad idea.

My main priority was to break the curse on Mr. and Mrs. Leech. I thought I’d have to ask (Y/N) to reach out to Vil Schoenheit or write something in this journal, but it turns out I didn’t have to do anything. Hans went ahead and nudged the odds in my favour already. At least, I suspect he had a hand in it. But I’m never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I’ll happily accept that Walrus’s team and our own people have found a way to break the curse.

Azul was slightly disappointed that he didn’t manage to find a method on his own. He really wanted to put the twins in his debt, but I guess he’ll have to sulk. His specialty is potions, after all. Not curses. He’s also a little salty because this implies Vil Schoenheit is still more skilled than him on the subject of curses. His competitive nature never dies down when it comes to other competent people, even after all these years.

Anyway, the curse was undone three days ago. They’ve woken up perfectly stable and healthy, if a little tired. The twins have spent nearly every waking hour in their room. I’m glad they’re all looking much more lively.

Their parents wanted to go right back to work, but Jade and Floyd have been very insistent on making sure they rest. Right now, Jade and his parents have decided to split up the work equally, but Jade plans on eventually relinquishing his position as the temporary head of the Leech Mafia. He doesn’t want it back anytime soon. His parents might want him to keep observing their work, but I think he’ll take a long breather after the Carpenter Mafia dissolves. He says he wants to join a research lab on fungi. I’m sure he’ll enjoy himself there.

Speaking of Jade’s interests, Floyd owes him quite a bit for breaking his terrariums. You cast a glance at the twin dozing off on the floor. Jade’s been working him hard. Just as you’re about to pull a knitted blanket off the window seat and drape it over his torso, Jade climbs up to the attic.

“Ah, I thought I might find you two here.” He ignores your shushing motion, speaking nearly louder than his usual conversational volume. “Have you made any progress on that journal?”

“Keep it down, Floyd’s sleeping.”

“Oh? I suppose he is.” He smiles as though he’s entirely innocent. “Even though he should be running an errand on the west side of the city right now. Isn’t that so, my dear brother?”

Floyd stirs, brows furrowing as he grumbles. “Fuck off, man.”

“I’m afraid you’re late. Why don’t you head out? It wouldn’t do for you to procrastinate.” Jade leans over him, his shadow eclipsing Floyd’s face. The latter gripes some more before rolling away and hopping right through the trapdoor. His footsteps echo through the halls, eventually leading to the sound of the front door.

“He’s tired. You should let him rest.” You close your journal and set it beside you.

He kneels by your seat and rests his head on your knee. Gingerly, you reach out and comb your fingers through his hair. His entire body melts against the wall and your knee.

“I am also tired.” His eyelids drop halfway, a pitiable pout on his lips. “Much more so than he is, I’m sure.”

“And what? You want a gold medal for the Fatigue Olympics?” Despite your words, your other hand holds his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek. “Come on, get off the floor. It can’t be comfortable.”

He sighs in contentment. “With the way you’re touching me, I have half a mind to stay where I am.”

You’ve come to realize that Jade acts this way when he’s looking for attention, and he only actively looks for attention from you. With a sigh escaping the smile on your lips, you ease his head off your knee and move your legs so that your feet touch the floor. He has the gall to look like a kicked puppy.

“You’re so dramatic.” You pat the cushioned space next to you. “Sit up here.”

It’s like his fatigue disappears as soon as you extend the invitation. He wastes no time in sitting next to you, his thigh pressing against yours. One of his hands reaches behind you. You feel it causing the cushions to shift under you as he uses it to support his weight. Strangely, it feels more intimate than if he had touched you directly. The knowledge that his arm is there creates a sense of security. Sturdy, safe, like the face of a cliff that has your back. He’ll never be a threat to you. You think back to what you once thought of people who trust Jade, and you wonder if you’re a fool, desperate, or if you have something on him.

It might not be so bad to be a fool once in a while.

You lean into his side and rest your head on his shoulder. A pause, followed by the light pressure of his cheek against your hair. His body is cool to the touch like always, and you find comfort in it.

“I’ll help you make new terrariums to replace the ones Floyd broke.”

“How kind of you.” The hand behind you lifts, only to find its place on your waist, securing you to his side. “In that case, I should consider what I’d like to grow in them. Lichen would decorate some surfaces well, but I doubt it would be possible.”

“Lichen?” You often see it back home near the shore. “Why not?”

“It cannot survive in a closed system like my terrariums.” His voice lowers to a soft, almost sweet tone. “It requires clean, fresh air, outside the confines of a box that I control. The charm of keeping a terrarium is that I control every factor within it, down to what lives or dies. But despite the fact that it eludes my grasp, I adore observing its beauty in the environment where it thrives.”

Somehow, you don’t think he’s talking about lichen anymore.

“Lichen grows on trees and rocks, right?” You think about the cliffside. Patches of pale green life covered the rocks where you met Jade. It brought a sort of earthy, rustic quality to the area. “It’s pretty. I think I’ve seen a few of your photos focusing on it.”

“Yes, it needs to be anchored to a sturdy surface.” He adjusts his grip on your waist. “Unassuming, allowing other elements of the scenery to shine, but charming and effective in its own right.”

You don’t want to ask if he’s referring to you. He’ll surely tease you for being self-absorbed. However, you are not so prideful as to not acknowledge what he’s trying to say.

“I sort of understand wanting to be anchored to something.” You place one hand over his. “It’s easier to let my guard down when there’s something that can protect my back.”

“Allow me to assist you with that.” He intertwines your fingers. “If you must be anchored to something, I’ll be more than happy to provide you with support forever, until you ask me to stop.”

“All this talk about ‘forever.’” A grin pulls at your lips. There’s no harm in teasing him once in a while. “It’s like you’re trying to marry me. What’s with that, huh?”

His entire body freezes. You lift your head from his shoulder, trying to look at his face.

“Jade? I was joking—”

He gently presses against your temple, his wrist blocking your eyes as he guides your head back down to his shoulder. What a letdown. This time, you really wanted to see his expression.

“Incidentally,” he says, “would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

“You changed the topic way too abruptly.” Laughter bubbles in your throat. “I thought you were better at making conversation than that.”

“I’m inclined to disagree.” He doesn’t elaborate. “Are you free tomorrow evening? We can book a reservation for that restaurant you wanted to try.”

Usually, you wouldn’t turn it down. But . . .

“Sorry, I’ll be out with (Y/N) all day.” You’ve missed her. And after she called you in distress over losing the polaroids you took together, you promised to replace them with new ones. There’s so much you have yet to do with her. “Maybe the day after?”

Jade sighs loudly, as though he’s the most pitiful being in the world. Amidst teasing laughter, you close your journal and focus your attention on him. It’s alright to take your time writing it. Your story is a process that does not need to be rushed. It may only be a page at the moment, but one day, you’re sure this journal will fill with your experiences, plans, and thoughts. You will continue on living as your own person—not a side character or a main character in a grander scheme, but as yourself. To live as a human being with your unique experiences—that is your story.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst jade #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #twst fanfic #mafia au #floyd leech #multi chap fic #slow burn has burned #thanks for reading so far!

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: seungcheol x you

Requested: no

Release date: 24-04-24

Genre: mafia au, reverse of getting kidnaped by the mafia boss, fluff, e2l, crack, assistant au

Warning(s): mention of abduction, guns?, cheol is a menace, brief mentions of drugs (do tell me if i missed anything)

summary: It was not supposed to be like this, it was a meticulous plan perfectly curated by you, Jun and Seokmin. You were supposed to go get the man who was the future heir of the Kim Corps named Mingyu, you ever had a pic of his. Most importantly it was definitely not supposed to be the man who now sits in your basement claiming that he is the leader of the mafia organisation you three work for.

Word count: 5.8k

Other works

Beta reader(s): @wonuwrites-main and @anonmonty (sweet sweet angles helped me with proof reading, or else im fucking incompetent)

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask. Plus, if you loved it enough don't forget to reblog, it will help me reach a larger audience.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

It is a beautiful day, and like they always say: beautiful things happen on beautiful days, and you were damn ready for the said beautiful thing to happen!

The plan is simple—you and Jun have gone over it at least fifty times, and Seokmin has been standing there listening to you both intently throughout the whole ordeal. 

“So, let’s go over it once again,” you say, pointing at the white board with the picture of a man, Mingyu to be exact, the heir to the Kim Corp. and your target. 

“He leaves his office to have coffee every afternoon exactly at 3pm at the nearest café named ‘Carvery’, am I right?” Jun and Seokmin nod with a concentrated look on their faces. 

“Next he goes to the park, sits there for fifteen minutes, on most days, and then takes the path that leads them straight back to the building, correct?” The two men again nod, and then Jun takes over the talking. 

“More often than not, he hates company during his afternoon runs, so the best chance we have of abducting the man is when he is between the café and the park. This will give us at least a twenty-minute head start before the police and his family start looking for him.” 

Now you and Seokmin nod at the man, and Seokmin takes the podium to present the next part. 

“Jun and I will be on the streets while y/n waits in the car, and from the background check we ran last month, we know the man is well trained in martial arts, so we will try and attack him with the anesthetic as soon as possible.” 

“And after the guy is unconscious, we will flee with his ass~,” adds Jun. 

“Sounds like a solid plan,” you laugh as you high five the two men. 

Indeed, it was a solid plan. You three had considered every possibility and chosen this day to execute your plan. It’s perfect and thorough, so what can go wrong? 

-- 

A lot apparently. 

You reached the destination ten minutes early to give Seokmin and Jun ample amount of time to prepare for the attack. 

As you parked your car near the pavement where the abduction would take place, you see a man walk past the car wearing a beige trench coat with some sort of concoction from the coffee shop. 

Now if you were a seasoned abductor, you would have known not to mess with the person as the timing was not right. But that was not the case, and seeing a person who vaguely matched the physical descriptions of the man you were actually supposed to abduct gave you enough reason to jump the gun and take this man hostage. 

Before you could process anything, Seokmin jumped on the guy, trying to tackle him while Jun tried to find a way to inject the drug into his system. After another minute of struggle, taking at least five punches in their abdomen and faces, both the men were successful in sedating the man.  

They hurriedly carried him to the car and you three sped off to the base to ask his family for ransom. 

-- 

You have been back at the base for three hours now. As you look at the unconscious man tied to the chair in front, you realize the grave mistake you made by not seeing his face the minute you were actually kidnapping him. 

“I mean if you look at his eyes, they look very similar to the real target, you know. Maybe he ate too much last night and is a bit swollen now,” Jun says in a wise tone. Now if you were stupid like Seokmin, you would have accepted this analogy of his just like the hundred others he had spewed in the past two hours, but you are not. So, you hit the guy’s head while calmly saying. 

“Will you keep quiet for a minute? You know as well as I that this is the wrong man. We don’t even know who he actually is. So, we wait for him to gain consciousness and then interrogate him.”  

You have figured that screaming and crying will get you nowhere. All it will do is trigger Seokmin’s panic attack, and you do not think he can manage another one after the one hour long one he just resurfaced from.  

“Our best bet is that we abducted a pretty important dude, or else we know the boss will have our meat served to his dogs for their nightly feasts,” you continued. 

“I can see he is wearing pretty costly brands all over. My guts say he is rich,” Seokmin pipes up. 

“Seok, your gut told you to scream for the past hour. I don’t trust it a lot now,” you complain. 

“I think it’s your fault, too. You should have stopped us from abducting the guy instead of just staring from the car, you know,” Jun says. 

Now, you will consider yourself to be a level-headed person, but one thing that gets to you more than anything else is a false accusation. On top of that, the bitch has the gal to accuse you of being careless when they were the ones showing literally no care about their work, owing to the fact you were not even supposed to abduct the untouchable Kim Mingyu in the first place. The leader of your clan, although you three had never seen him, mostly operated through Jeonghan, his right-hand man. The guy you agreed to kidnap was apparently remarkably close to your boss. But when faced with the tough choice of loyalty towards one gang and the lump sum of three million, you three had to face the situation and betray your gang. You know you should not, but the small jobs with the gang were not enough to even pay your rent!  

So, who does Jun think he is to shift the blame towards you when you have done nothing but try to make a secure living for all three of you. Therefore, you do the thing that your sane brain advises you to. 

Go off at Jun. 

“So, if I fail to babysit two grown men while on an extremely important mission that included them, the blame is shifted towards me?!” 

“You were both supposed to wait for my instructions before confronting the poor bloke. Now, if things go wrong, it will be your faults, and I will be dragged into it because I was the main brain behind the planning.”  

“Guys, I think we should focus on the guy more; I think he is stirring.” 

This statement from Seokmin caught both of your attention, causing you to cease the argument immediately to take a look at the man in front of you. 

Without hesitation, you put your gun on his head and ask, “who are you, tell us about yourself.” 

The man albeit good looking with his doe eyes and plump lips, gave you three a mean stare before speaking sassily. 

“Shouldn’t you know the identity of the person you kidnap?” 

“If we knew, I don’t think I would have asked about you,” you reply. 

The man scoffs before informing you the most gut-wrenching piece of information you have ever heard. 

“I’m Choi Seungcheol leader of Choi Clan.” 

-- 

When Seungcheol met Mingyu today, he was feeling particularly drained and sought the comfort of a familiar face, longing for a brief respite from the relentless demands of his job. Mingyu, sensing his friend's exhaustion, proposed they take a detour to unwind, considering Seungcheol's grueling schedule. Gratefully accepting the suggestion, Seungcheol had embarked on what he thought would be a much-needed moment of relaxation. 

Oh, how wrong he was. 

As he leisurely sipped his coffee, enjoying a fleeting moment of calm, the tranquility was shattered by the sudden onslaught of a group of thugs. Seungcheol had braced himself for a possible mugging, but the idea of being abducted never crossed his mind. He curses himself for sending Soonyoung away earlier, now regretting not having company in this unforeseen predicament. 

To make matters worse, Seungcheol felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. A mafia boss getting abducted! 

How humiliating.  

Now, do not get him wrong, he was, in reality, as far from incompetent as the Sahara was from water, as Seungkwan was from being calm, as Jihoon was from showing affection—you get the point. 

In fact, he had been the first in three generations to successfully reclaim the southeastern part of the city for his clan from the Yoon family, a testament to his capabilities. 

Now bound and surrounded by three hapless captors whose incompetence was glaringly evident, judging by the one who he suspects was crying prior to their conversation with him. He suspected they had targeted Mingyu, but mistakenly seized him instead. Seungcheol could not help but shake his head at their sheer incompetence. 

Now, again, he is not that scared. He knows he has a trusted pack of workers who would join heaven and earth in search of him. No, he is least bothered about himself. 

What he is actually bothered about is who planned to abduct Mingyu, because he is strictly off limits for his clan members. He knows this as much as anyone that they respect the young heir a lot, not only due to his kind nature, but also because of the relationship he has with their leader. 

So, when he informs his three kidnappers his name, he gets the weirdest of responses ever—a chorus of ‘shits’ and ‘fucks.’ Moreover, he sees all three of his kidnappers suddenly fall down at his feet and grumbling out the most nonsensical bullshit ever. The only words he vaguely captures are ‘it was supposed to be someone else’ and ‘sirs’. 

This confuses the man even more. But then he suddenly sees all three of them take their masks off, revealing two men and, dare he say, a very gorgeous woman. Now in any other situation,

Seungcheol would have laughed, but now that he is in it himself, the only reaction he can provide is a confused head nod as the woman immediately goes to untie his hands. 

-- 

“So, you are telling me that you were paid to abduct my friend who you know is off limits, but still went ahead with the idea, even though you are the members of my gang?!”  

He says as he looks at your group standing in front of him with their heads bowed down looking like kids getting scolded.  

“But sir, we barely make any money from doing the jobs assigned to us. The only way for us to pay our rent was for taking up jobs from outside, and this one paid us a huge sum. We never wanted you to be the one getting abducted instead, we swear!” you suddenly exclaim with the extreme need to explain yourself. 

Your two partners beside you do their dutiful job by nodding their heads with your rant. 

“You three fucked up really bad, didn’t you?” He says, looking a tad bit amused. 

“We are really sorry!” Seokmin chokes out, visibly scared by the whole ordeal. 

“Well, it’s time I go back, so take me back to the office.” 

Right after that statement comes out of his mouth, you three are escorting him out of the door to the car parked outside to take him back. 

-- 

“So, you are telling me these three, these newbies who literally didn’t have any good job for them to gain experience, drugged your ass and took you to god knows where, and you couldn’t even put up a good fight?!” 

Jeonghan exclaims, looking at the seated, nervous, and scared faces of the three of you from Seungcheol’s office’s glass. 

“Apparently not,” the older man sighs. 

“My friend, are you sure you are a real mafia? Because in light of the current happenings, I am starting to question your integrity a lot.” Jeonghan says as he barks out a laugh, taking immense pleasure at his friend’s humiliation. 

“Or maybe you were too caught up staring at the pretty lady to notice that you were getting kidnapped.” 

The bitch continues to make fun of the older man. 

“I just thought I was getting mugged, so I didn’t fight hard enough. Who knew I would be kidnapped instead.” Seungcheol grumbles, pouting a bit. 

“Which is even worse, because you are telling me you would have let people just mug you for no reason when you are one of the most influential people underground!” Jeonghan said while looking pretty concerned about the statement his superior just spewed, and he does indeed have a hard time accepting it. 

“Ahh! Just get over with it and let me go. Plus make sure the three of them face the appropriate consequences for not only abducting me, but also trying to abduct my friend,” Seungcheol barks out while walking out, thoroughly humiliated, and annoyed that his junior was having fun at his expense. 

So Jeonghan does the very thing at which he is extremely good. 

Create chaos. 

 Right after his superior leaves, he strides towards the group and says, “so because the boss has instructed me to do something with you three which will stop you guys from going off the hook, I’m going to assign you some jobs in the organization because I can.” 

Now, anyone even vaguely familiar with Jeonghan would recognize the expression he wore just before chaos ensued, but contrary to popular belief, Jeonghan is actually quite amiable—at least, that is what he believes, and that is what matters, right? 

He continues, “Junhui, you will be overseeing the artillery division. Our deputy head Chan will ensure you are well informed about your job. You will meet him tomorrow. As for Seokmin,” he paused, a sly smile crossing his face, which made Seokmin visibly nervous, “You, my friend, will be our esteemed boss's driver. Lastly, y/n, you will be his assistant. You shall be meeting Chan tomorrow, too; he will explain the workings of your new role.” 

Normally, in any ordinary conversation, you would not dare ask inappropriate questions, but the circumstances were far from normal, so you proceeded with the most audacious question you could muster: “Why did Chan leave his previous post?” 

Jeonghan politely responded, “He left because the job didn’t suit him, so we shifted him to the artillery department as a deputy head.” 

Unspoken was the fact that Chan had been worn down by the boss's relentless bullying, quietly requesting a transfer for at least three years before Jeonghan finally relented. Since then, the turnover of assistants had been alarmingly high. Jeonghan desperately hoped you would stick around. Moreover, if either you or Seungcheol objected to this arrangement, he had enough leverage to ensure you both comply. Enough dirt to keep both of you in line. 

-- 

Your meeting with Chan the next day went well. He explained to you the workings, gave you tips and tricks on how to make sure all the work gets done. Overall, a 10/10 experience, except the small hiccup at the end where he cryptically said something along the lines of “Best of all fucking luck with this job because you will need it.” 

Now a small best of luck is never a bad gesture, but that statement! 

That shit was a bit too hostile, even for you. But you are fine, happy even. Anything that saves you from getting your life cut short by a mafia leader is always welcomed. 

-- 

“What are you doing here?”  

“Where is Jeonghan?” 

The first two sentences to ever leave The Choi Seungcheol’s mouth the minute he sees your face when he comes into his office that afternoon. Indeed, so delightful! 

"Sir, I've been assigned as your work assistant for the time being," you reply, your eyes downcast. It is a surreal turn of events considering just yesterday this man was tied up in your basement. After that ordeal, everything seemed to take on a different hue, almost as if you were hearing the bells of heaven. So, that reaction seems pretty appropriate to you given the circumstances. 

Now you see our oh so beloved Mr. Choi was not just an underground mob because what is the fun in that, right! He mostly did international business under the guise of his company named The ChoiTech, solely based on providing technological change using sustainable means. Pretty cleaver tactic, although overused, but still gets the job done, so who are you to judge. 

The man looking extremely shocked at your statement immediately rushed inside his office, you presume, to call Jeonghan. And sure enough, within five minutes of him disappearing from your sight, you could hear him loudly complaining to his secretary on the phone. “But Jeonghan I can’t be collaborating with her, after what she did to me yesterday!” 

The man whined and then suddenly you could hear hushed whispers, so being the curious cat you were, slowly crept near the door to hear the conversation better. 

“But man, it’s humiliating. She kidnapped me for fucks sake”, the oh so powerful man, who people assumed will one day rule the underworld, whined like a kid who has been denied to go on a playdate with their best friend. 

By this time, you were almost pressed onto the door when suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat made you jump away from it and look about for the person who stopped you from consuming you daily dose of gossip. 

The culprit, Joshua, stood right in front of your desk with an amused look on his face. 

Now Joshua is someone you were extremely familiar with, being the man who took care of assigning roles to the lower members of the group, you have had a lot of angry conversations with him. 

“I would ask you if Seungcheol is busy, but the way you were trying so hard to eavesdrop, makes me think otherwise,” he says, making you roll your eyes. 

“Just give me a minute to tell him you are here, then you can go in.” 

The man nodded still looking thoroughly amused at how sad you looked due to missing out on whatever conversation you were listening to. 

After a minute, the man was inside, now looking even happier that he has seen his next victim to torment. 

-- 

“So Jeonghan was indeed right,” he said, looking like he was having a tough time controlling his laugh. 

“Not you, too,” the pouty man whined from behind the desk. “But really, can you tell him to not put that woman as my assistant? I get war flashbacks every time I see her face,” he continued whining. 

“I mean, I could do that, but where is the fun there, right!” Joshua, thoroughly enjoying his boss’s misery, replied. “But in all seriousness, you could just treat her like Chan. The boy is still traumatized by the amount of work you made him do,” he thoughtfully added. 

The older replies, “I liked Chan, he was nice, would do anything you ask him to!” 

“And so will she. Her life is at stake here, give her some benefit of the doubt.” 

This statement made the older think like never before. Plans of tormenting you to quit your job rushing past his brain at high speed. Suddenly everything made sense. 

“I can take my revenge! That is exactly why Jeonghan made her my assistant. Oh, my friend is such a genius!” Seungcheol said, looking a bit too enthusiastic. 

“Ok, I am sure it was done to decrease his workload, but whatever you say, man,” the younger said skeptically after seeing the diabolical look on the elder’s face. 

-- 

It has already been three weeks and suddenly you understand what Chan meant all those days back when he wished you good luck. To put it quite plainly, your boss is crazy. 

The man was a combination of workaholic and perfectionist, which resulted in him getting swamped by work and by default the same fate befalls you every day, too. For the past three weeks, you have had a challenging time at the office to even take a break to eat food. 

The men you called your enemies once, aka Jeonghan and Joshua, are the ones now saving you from dying out of malnutrition. You are eternally thankful to them. But more than anything now, you regret trying to kidnap Kim Mingyu—the name makes you want to cry in a corner and throw rocks at people, if you had any time to do so. 

“Sir, you scheduled two appointments at the same time: the new project for the Orin Community Park and another one with Mr. Xu for the narcotic deal.” 

You informed the man who had his face shoved in some papers, reading something diligently.  

“Why did you not stop me from doing so then, you were right beside me when I was going through the plan.” 

Now, it is your job to curate the perfect schedule for the man to follow, but Seungcheol being the guy born only to cause you inconvenience made his schedule for the week himself this time. 

Why you might ask?

Purely because the man is a chronic insomniac and whenever he has trouble sleeping, instead of taking measures to have a peaceful sleep, he tries his hands in different works because he can, and this time his victim was the poor, poor schedule of his. 

“Because you had already sent them both emails, sir,” you say, thoroughly exasperated. 

“Ok maybe I did, so now I obviously can’t cancel on both so you figure out something so that I can attend both the meetings, because I ain’t missing any.” 

The man just turns his chair around and keeps reading whatever he was reading in the first place.

With an extremely calm voice, you say, “sir I need you to stop trying to do something to pass time when you can’t sleep. I need you to actually go to a doctor.”  “Can’t,” comes his response, making you sigh more. 

Sometimes it feels like you are working as a babysitter to a grown man instead of an assistant to a CEO. 

Seeing the conversation would be going nowhere if you keep talking to him, you go out and do the second-best thing in your books. 

Call Chan. 

“Lemme guess, the boss is giving you a hard time!” The first sentence he says right after picking up the phone. 

Sighing, you tell him all of Seungcheol’s various administrative behaviors throughout this week. When you got to the part where he had so bravely and meticulously made the perfect schedule, Chan started laughing. The gall of that boy! 

“Wait, he still does that!” He exclaimed between his laughs, making you feel even more annoyed. 

After calming down he says, “just make Jeonghan or Jihoon go for the community meeting and let him manage the narc. I know you are thankful, so do not mention it, but maybe buy me a meal when you are free, as a repayment.” 

Chuckling at the younger boy, you agreed to get him whatever he asks for purely because he is a literal angel, and he deserves the world. Ok, maybe it is a bit too dramatic, but the boy was indeed your angel in disguise. 

Planning on following through with the advice Chan gave you, you called both Jeonghan and Jihoon simultaneously. As Jeonghan was busy, Jihoon accepted the work of going to the community welfare meeting instead of Seungcheol. 

After that, the whole day was smooth sailing. But the main root of all your problems was happy, maybe not healthy, but the look of pure happiness and the twinkling eyes when he passed by your desk was hard to miss.  

This man was slowly but surely making sure to strip you of your patience bit by bit. 

--  

The last straw to eradicating your already depleting patience came when Seungcheol in all his glory, during one of his nightly ‘Imma take away other’s jobs because sleep refuses to befriend me’ escapades, deleted all your assistant notes for the server by mistake. 

You still are baffled as to how he did that. Truth be told so is he. He was scrolling away on his phone when he saw this reel about ‘how to increase your Wi-Fi speed.’ Extremely intrigued by it, he had actually tried to increase the internet speed in his house, and he swears on every god on planet earth it worked. So, he tried doing so with the one in his office, which weirdly enough resulted in removal of all the information that you had stored in your laptop. 

Now if this would have happened to his computer, too, you would not have gotten as angry as you were, but the motherfucker’s computer was all well and good and if you actually pay attention, it seems that his internet speed has increased, too! 

How this man become a CEO is beyond you. What is not so beyond is your pure hatred for him and his technologically challenged ass. 

So that night when Seungcheol, stayed back as usual to do work, you took your chances, entered his office, and slammed a ball of yarn and two knitting needles on his table while scaring the life out of the, not so, poor man. 

“Start knitting!” you calmly said. 

“But I don’t know how to though!” he replies, thoroughly confused. 

“Then learn, Seungcheol! I don’t care what you want to do, I need you to learn and pick up a hobby, start gaming, try knitting anything! Just make sure you are not trying to turn the office upside down.” 

Anyone who knows Seungcheol also knows never to question his nightly routines, but more than that, they also know the pride of the man is too high to ever accept his mistake. So, when you commit the grave crime of pointing out his mishap with the Wi-Fi router that morning, you hit the nail on the head and pissed him to the fucking moon. 

“So, you think I’m bad at what I do?!” 

“No, I think you are technically inept. And you should leave it to people who are good at it.” 

This pisses off Seungcheol more than anything, but you don’t let him intervene as you keep speaking. 

“On top of that you are constantly making changes in your schedule without informing me. You’re your assistant. Maybe have you ever considered the fact that your schedule was made so that your day is smooth sailing, and no two activities overlap!” 

“Just because you refuse to go to a doctor and try and find a way to manage your stress does not mean you make the workplace hell for us.” 

By the end of your rant, you were fuming and Seungcheol was stunned. 

Clearing his throat, he says awkwardly, “I’m sorry you feel so, I will try and fix my schedule.” 

Now, although this statement made you feel better, it also confused you, as you were fully prepared to have a full-blown fight with the man. Him backing down was never an option. But now that it has happened, you muttered a small, “I shall be going then”, to which your boss meekly nodded. 

After you were outside, you ended up feeling better due to unloading all your anger on the man. It was refreshing. Now you just needed to see what changes tomorrow will bring for Seungcheol. 

-- 

It had been two months since you had the argument with Seungcheol, more like your single woman shouting spree. But things have been better. He has tried to keep his need for new experiences down and this has made your life exponentially easier.  

Did you now have time to eat. Absolutely not! 

But the office was not a nightmare anymore.  

If someone would have told you five months ago that this is what your future held for you, you would have straight up laughed at their face and told them to get themselves checked. But life has weird ways of throwing you in situations you don’t expect yourself to be in, and you have no other ways of getting out but learn to go with the flow. 

You sometimes talk to Jun and Seokmin, and you have realized you got the hardest of all the jobs.

You asked Jeonghan about it once and his answer was, “because I can and its fun!” 

So here you are sitting on the couch with Seokmin while enjoying your sandwich when you see Seungcheol come outside carrying a bag, Jeonghan trailing behind him sporting this devilish look on his face. 

The big man walks towards you and hands you the bag. Opening it you notice a green scarf sitting at the bottom. 

“Seungcheol’s first knitting creation, and he says thank you for forcing him to learn knitting. It helps him sleep now.” Jeonghan says while pointing at the bag even before the older man could open his mouth. 

Seokmin tries to make himself as invisible as possible while looking extremely interested in the whole situation unfolding in front of him. 

Seungcheol waves his hands at Jeonghan trying to hush him down and whines, “let me speak!” 

“I made this cause you told me it would help me sleep! I didn’t think it could actually help me, but it looks like it did, so I’m extremely thankful for your suggestion.”

“Good job!” Jeonghan says, patting Seungcheol’s head like he was a child, making you laugh a bit. 

“Thank you for listening to me, sir!” 

“Oh, no, call him by his name, or else he will become weird with you again!” Jeonghan says, making you laugh again. Seungcheol pouts at both of you and storms back to his office, with Jeonghan at his tail making fun of him yet again. 

After that, you kept the bag in your desk and went to bid your friend goodbye. 

“He looked like he was confessing to his crush, you know”, Seokmin muses. 

“Maybe he has a crush on you!” He exclaimed after pausing for a moment. 

“I don’t, he is a weird person,” you had replied thoughtfully. 

Realizing he has been chatting with you for a long time, Seokmin quickly rushes outside while loudly screaming a ‘goodbye’ for the whole building to hear. 

When you came back to your desk, Jeonghan was waiting for you there. The man just looked at you with a smirk and said, “see you later y/n, and make sure to wear the scarf!” 

Jeonghan is a weird person. You more often than not don’t listen to what he tells you to do. He forces you to do them anyways. 

“Seriously, lady, do wear the scarf. Plus, it’s cold outside—you won’t get a heatstroke if you do so.” 

With that he was outside of the office, too. Slowly work caught up with you and you forgot about the scarf altogether. 

-- 

That evening, as you were finishing up at work and preparing to leave, you grabbed the scarf that had been gifted to you and wrapped it around your neck before stepping out of the office. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man who had given you the scarf felt a rush of joy upon seeing you wear it. Concealing his flushed cheeks, he quietly followed you out and spontaneously invited you to join him for dinner, explaining that he had given Seokmin the night off and now was in extreme need of a dinner companion, as Seokmin would fill in that position on most nights. It was unusual for him to make such a request, but you were both hungry and couldn't resist the offer of a free meal, even if it was from someone as harmless as him. 

"So, what do you think?" Seungcheol asked as the two of you sat at the ramen shop waiting for your orders. 

"About what?" You replied, genuinely puzzled by his question. 

"Didn't you read the letter?" He asked, his face turning even redder as he mentioned it. 

"What letter?" You responded, glancing around until Seungcheol nodded towards the bag in which he gave you the scarf, looking inside you noticed an envelope that matched the interior perfectly sitting at the bottom. 

"Oh! I can read it now," you exclaimed. 

"Don't worry about it right now," he interjected as the waiter arrived with your bowls of ramen. 

Despite his reluctance to discuss the letter further, your curiosity only grew stronger after he dropped you off at your doorstep. Once inside your home, you wasted no time in retrieving the letter from your bag. Its contents filled you with excitement like never before. 

The following day at the office, you placed another letter on Seungcheol's desk before getting on with your usual tasks, eager to see his reaction. 

-- 

"So, let me get this straight—you've been dating our boss for the past month?" Exclaimed Jun, eyes wide with disbelief. 

"Why didn't you tell us sooner? How did this even happen?!" Chimed in Seokmin, equally stunned by the news. 

As soon as you revealed your relationship with Seungcheol, you found yourself bombarded with a flurry of questions from your friends. It was amusing to witness their sheer astonishment, and yet, deep down, it felt incredibly rewarding to share this surprising news with them.

What started as a casual hangout quickly transformed into a lively interrogation session, with your friends firing off all sorts of curious inquiries. Most pressing among them was the question: 

“How and when did all of this happen?!” 

You couldn't blame them for their curiosity. It seemed like just yesterday that you had kidnapped Seungcheol off the street instead of his friend Mingyu, which resulted in Jeonghan gaining the perfect opportunity to bully you both half to death. And let's not forget the hell and back experience you were subjected to from Seungcheol himself, the man who had once resorted to extreme tactics to get you to quit as he was reminded of the oh so humiliating experience he went through every time he saw your face. But somehow, it all worked out in the end, and you couldn't be happier about how it turned out. 

Near the end of your gathering, you couldn't resist the urge to pull out your phone and reveal the most treasured image in your gallery: a photograph capturing two pieces of paper resting on a desk. One paper bore a lengthy paragraph, while the other simply displayed a single, bold sentence: 

"Take me out on a proper date first!" 

The photo encapsulated perfectly how you both worked so well with each other. It was a sweet reminder of how unexpectedly love can bloom in the most unconventional of circumstances. 

As your friends marveled at the photo, you couldn't help but reflect on how far you and Seungcheol had come in such a short time. Despite the initial hurdles and challenges you faced with the man, you were grateful for the bond you now shared—a relationship built on laughter, friendship, and, of course, a bit of unexpected romance. 

The end hope you like it !!

#svt #fluff #e2l #scoups #mafia au #svt scoups #svt scenarios #svt angst #seventeen x reader #svt fic #svt imagines #seventeen fanfic #svt fluff #svt crack #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen scoups #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #scoups fluff #scoups imagines #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #cheol #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol x oc #coworkers

[kel-lance]

JJK Mafia Au (JJK x Reader) PART 2

Part 1

Warnings:- TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Breeding, Ownership, Gaslighting, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more toxic sh.

Premise: Reader lives in a city where the two biggest gangs keep things line until the third gang showed up. That had nothing to do with you though, until dumb luck just happened to favor you one day. Basically You’re picked up and used by every dangerous criminal within the clans due to some alliances they had to create due to some members messing up the previous alliances. ((Almost everyone’s gonna have a turn 🤗)) ( i have 11 more chapters planned out right now meaning after i write those ill still be writing more.)

“We’re done for today.” The large man reaches for his robes. You don’t bother to move. Just breathing hurt. It was his off day and he was deciding to break you in, deciding to keep you for however long you were durable. He was amused with your reactions. He liked it. He found it interesting how you were also trying to survive. He’d play along as your god now. 

You lay in the bed and his finger prints stained your skin, each strike created blots of purple and blue and green. You liked bruises before, it showed how you fought for it. 

You apparently woke up two days later, and he lets you rest. Your body finally turns off survival mode for a second, just a second to adjust to the warm room. Four walls, the nice smell, it was just another thing you weren’t used to. Stillness. It was boring. But under these circumstances you were glad to have your own padded room to deal with this.

The time you were left alone, you didn’t know how long that would be. Another hour or so you’d think he’d come back in, hearing as you’re up. Time for more torture, though do torture victims get a bed and tended to? It felt more like you were a sacrifice, meant to appease him, though no one handed you over. 

You were brushed, scrubbed raw, and even felt a bit of shame for the way you were living compared to the two ladies who were taking care of you. But you didn’t know how long they’ve been in this line of work. Hell they honestly looked like they were born into it with the cold looks in their eyes. They could care less about your well-being, though they found and scrubbed every inch of you. Of course you didn’t want strangers to look at you, especially after such a moment that brought you here. To be real, these twins are probably the only people who knew you more than anyone you currently knew. 

Friends? You had a few, some to help you out sometimes, some to let you crash at their place. It was all fair game to the people you knew. Life was never easy for them and they knew of you being a free spirit. You didn’t leech off of them for you’d always show up with something in exchange, usually something you stole but it would never get traced back, it was either too common (but useful) or just something that would never be brought out of shown off. 

You weren’t a bad friend for it, if anything you were the perfect guest, though this time you didn’t mean to give yourself away for a few nights stay.

“I gotta get out of here, but where would I go? These people have already seen my face and I can’t tell how many more there would be. I can’t request anything to learn the layout of this place and no one will talk to me. If I leave I’ll have to run further and faster than I already have been…” You ponder more, sitting at the table placed in front of the window. 

They’re smart enough to know what I’d do if I wanted to pick a fight with their lord, of course there are guards at more doors, even under the window out your room, and it’s safe to say that there’s even a guard at each vent that’s connected to your room. 

“Why does it seem like I’m so special?” You sit and open the window, the guard below moves from his post to observe you on the same side has the other posted to view you. You look down at then and offer a wave, saying you’re not doing anything stupid, but you just wanted some air. One of them leaves, probably to get Sukuna. 

“I bet he’s just a lonely loser and I just happen to fall into his lap, or maybe I was one of many and was the newest. The girls here looked like they could be in the same position as you, though why weren’t they? They didn’t look like they were his blood, and there was no way that he could be their dad. That would make things even worse since you’re close in age as the twins. 

You see the guard go back to his post, nonchalantly. “Weirdo.” You thought. Not even a second later your room door whips open. Jumping from your place at the table, you turn and see who other than the man with the unpredictable entrances. “Finally up?” He leans on the door frame. “Honestly, you’re so dramatic for that.” He teased, being strangely familiar to you.

“Dude…” You caught yourself about to tell off this stranger. All you’ve known from him is that he’s having fun taking you and making you a toy, that his name was Sukuna and how everyone seemed under his control. Not that they enjoy it, but it didn’t look like anyone, even in their numbers, would stand up to someone like him. 

It still wasn’t apparent for you. He only told you his first name, his last could tell you that you were in even more danger than any “normal” man doing this to you. It could be such a metaphor but you’re literally trapped in the best place you’ve ever been. Was that just life? all the bad comes up when you’re supposed to be happy, and realizing how good you’ve had it as it gets ripped apart in front of you? The balance of it all only comes with ignorance, which was also why you wouldn’t get attached. You didn’t run to one person for everything you didn’t need more than what you’d ask for and that wasn’t much. If they were lucky you’d be there for 3 days at most. 

You lost your voice, his presence set in, bringing you out of your (if you can all it that) relaxed state. He notices you tense up, the look in your eyes begging him to give your body a break. He huffs and saunters into the room, taking a seat at the end of the bed, the side that’s facing you. “You had some time to clear your head, now tell me what was your intention. Playing dumb suits that pretty face of yours… But that’s not why I’m here.”

You sure knew nothing about this guy. Other than his name and how his body looked. How he felt was different, it just happened so fast that you could only remember how it lingered in your belly after he left you the second time. It wasn’t something you can forget, those were the best orgasms of your life. “Sukuna… I’m serious.” 

“You expect me to believe that? Did I hit you too hard?” You almost wanted to laugh, you saw stars and colors you couldn’t before his knuckles contacted your skull. Lifting his hand from his side to place under his chin made you flinch, a bit too hard for his liking apparently.  It took a lot for you to muster standing up on your own, much less realize you had to get to the table by needing support from the wall. It was like you were in an ice skating rink and had to hold onto the walls for dear life, except there was no ice, it was just pain in your body not letting you level yourself out.

“When you’re ready to talk, I might hear you out. My patience is thin you already know.” He stands and closes your door, sent a shiver down your spine. Him not being close to you, or hurting you, having this quick visit was so unsettling. 

It haunted you for hours. He didn’t touch you. The edge of the bed where he sat still held an energy, like he left a part of him right there to keep watch over you. 

He definitely hit you too hard, you were thinking more outlandish things to go with this scenario. Like why didn’t the touch you? You thought he was going to keep a pattern, that maybe after this he would come in periodically to taunt you. That maybe his patience has worn out and he was going to get rid of you any minute now, or to use you again. 

The trauma you got from this certainly messed with your self soothing methods. Every time you catch yourself hitting your peak of your self imposed orgasms, you were almost wishing you had more than just your fingers. You didn’t want him, but seriously its already been 2 weeks. You were gonna go crazy in here. The girls kept bringing you your meals, and a bathroom is attached, though you couldn’t do much by yourself. 

You were to let the others feed and bathe you, and you honestly hated it. It was way too weird, you never talked to them, and they never tried with you so it felt like there was an agreement to just not speak about it. That none of you were here willingly. That gave you some insight. Your body healed itself enough that you didn’t need the wall to walk anymore, making your trips to the table in front of the window more frequent. 

You notice some sort of schedule Sukuna follows, as well as a few other noticeable men in this kind of gated community. Whatever he has gong on here, it felt like you were almost a stolen princess locked away in a tower or something. “You have GOT TO get a hold of yourself.” You didn’t need to see a doctor or someone, you were fully aware that these thoughts were just you daydreaming to escape reality, yet again. Though this time it was getting boring, you couldn’t help yourself, literally. 

At this point you wanted to even ask one of the guards if they wanted to come in and help you out, but you didn’t have to do that, because a day later you decided to act. Rolling around night time, you decided to open your window a noticeable amount. By then the guards usually leave one guard to patrol the grounds in each quarter. 

The ones outside your door either end up sleeping or one leaves the other for a bathroom break, some nights they both go, probably to blow each other you thought. It wasn’t any of your concern, they did it before when you could barely move, but now you were agile again, enough to move around without hissing at each moment.

 Placing your ear to the door, you heard light snoring through it. “Okay, just find his room you thought. You knew that it took about 60 steps to reach a stair case, then that would be about 24 steps down. You could hear his footsteps through the pairs of others who followed him, as his echoed with pace, and the others almost scuttled behind them like bugs.. 

You find your way slipping past heavy wooden doors, making sure it wouldn’t creak, you saw the walkway in the garden. You looked up and saw your room, you knew it was yours as it was the only one with the window open. you knew that the guard just left this fourth of his grounds. You were searching the area for his room. Peering through the windows, it would have been hard to tell if it was him, but his tattoos were honestly unique. 

None of them were him, you go back to the walkway, going down the opposite end, just blindly working your way through. You couldn’t just walk through any door, it could be your last mistake, it being Sukuna or not. But it just had to be him, you wanted so badly to find his familiar face and just, you don’t know. 

You decide to be more ballsy, there’s surely no way he’s be in the same quarters that has this many people,” you decide to take your chance with the left corridor. “I wouldn’t take him for a cuddly guy anyway.” 

Listen, you know it sounds crazy, but if you even got to escape, you’d be hunted like a fox, unnecessarily, and as a spectacle for others to watch. But if you could find him, and do it yourself, “I mean, at least I’d die with something, and what a funny way to go.” You loved to joke about these kinds of things. Anytime it seemed dark, you’d find yourself cracking a joke or going off an other tangents from the barrage of thoughts coming your way.

You hold your breath as you set your fingers around the doorknob, you pull it back slowly, and turn it, to silence any squeaks it may have. After turning it fully, you let it go back and unclenched your fingers to let it go a second time, making sure there was no noise from the metal trap, and decided to go in. 

What fucking luck you had as if you broke into another room you’d think your breathing would start to give you away. As you head towards the bed, the raising figure laying there was him. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark, so much so that you could just stand in front of him. 

Looking down at him you wondered what you should do. You’re not going to kill him, that’s one thing, though you had nothing to lose, you still liked your life and you enjoyed whatever adventurous you got yourself into. It was always just one thing after the next and you’d rest when needed, but you loved it. 

This was totally different though. Before it was like you were born into this work and have to abide by its rules. As of right now you could do /anything/. What else would you do? 

You look down at him, kneeling at the edge of the bed to face him. Looking at his face like this, completely defenseless, his harsh eyes weren’t poking at you or telling you exactly what he was thinking. No he was just, he looked human. Like if you were to have met him at any other place it would possibly be on a magazine cover or an army recruitment booth posted wherever. 

“Damn bastard is beautiful.” You thought. “I didn’t get this far to stop now. Fucking 2 weeks you keep me here and don’t do anything? Do you know how boring that is? You can’t just keep me here and forget.” All that time alone had gone to your head, did you forget how he treated you the time you met? 

Tbh it fades in and out, your memory’s cut up pieces of film that randomly plays an old memory, and since you can’t recognize it, you call it a dream. 

Nothing could take you away from where you were now. Looking over him, still not a care in the world. Nothing could wake him if he’d allow it. You cocked your head to align your eyes with his, and reach out and brush your fingertips across his jawline. 

How much of this could you enjoy before he kills you for breaking out? Just that thought had you slowly leaning in, your hand before tracing his face was leaning onto the bed to support your intrusion. 

First, you kissed his forehead. The poor fuck probably hadn’t felt the touch of a real lover in ages, he just finds and uses whatever and whoever he wants, whenever. Of course you didn’t pity him, but does he even know what being loved properly was like? You’re really one to be asking. 

You peck the smooth, hot skin, and kissed a line across his cheek, getting more sensual with the next. His touch, even sleeping was still so manly. His body was so, honestly the words seem odd, but he looked so edible. Like you almost couldn’t keep your lips off of him. He was so yummy when you get a good look at him. 

Cupping his face, your lips reach his, beginning to lightly stimulate the connection. You lean in further, applying yourself onto him, guiding open his mouth with yours as you lick his lips. This shit was getting you so excited, considering all that he’s done to you, having this moment, where you’re in control and he was at your mercy, and only you know this.

Continuing to make out with your kidnapper, you moved yourself to get on top of him. His lazy reaction of kissing back had you think he was a deep sleeper, god you really wished. 

You opened your eyes just to make sure he was still asleep, but his eyes were staring back at you, with the same look he always has. You didn’t have time to even make a sound before he had you under him. His hand grabbed your waist and turned kept you parallel to him as his leg pushed his body to get on top. 

You could feel his erection, he was basically stabbing your thighs with his head. His hands pushed your wrists into opposite sides of your head, and he has you immobilized as he sat on your legs. Most you could move was your toes and neck, but he had pressed his face up against yours. 

“I don’t even know where to start with you. If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve already. Maybe I can believe you’re just some random, …but you wouldn’t have come to my room.” He lets a wrist go to reel back and strikes your face as a warning. Seriously, no sane person would just come straight back to him in your situation.

“The guard fell asleep?” Nothing gets by him. You can’t tell if he was just prepared for everything or if he planned this out. The excitement you were feeling before was being clashed with the sudden shock to your face. “Depending how the rest of the night will go will determine his punishment.” 

Keeping everything in place, he moves your chin up by his nose, giving him space to start attacking your neck. “We’ll just start with yours.” His grasp tightened around each wrist, so much so that he was pulling on the tendons in your forearms, making your fingers involuntary curl. 

Your luck may have run out, but you weren’t as scared. Trying to enjoy the moment as much as possible, knowing fully well that you’re about to be eaten alive, and god, youve been waiting. His teeth grazed your collar bone, making their way back up, making themselves a known threat to your neck. 

“Speak.” He orders. “Who sent you?” 

“You still think I’m a spy?” The spot where he hit you was pounding, but it didn’t hurt. Other parts of your body were just pulsating along with your heartbeat, you knew he was going to take that as a sign of fear. 

“Hurry up, we have a meeting tomorrow so I’m trying to be considerate for everyone else.” 

He’s still not listening. You weren’t either at this point, finding his roughing up sort of endearing. Maybe he didn’t want to get blood on his bed, or maybe he did care about that stupid meeting. All you could feel was vigorous pulsating from your wrists, your face, your heart, and more than anything else, your pussy. 

This was literally what you came here to do, this was why he even took you with him wasn’t it? Seriously whatever big shot he thinks he is… this shit wasn’t legal; You were serious on going out with a bang, raising your hips to create some friction on his hard on. 

Sukuna seemed to notice the look in your eyes and gave you another firm slap. “Focus, doll.” He adjusts his hips a few inches too far down your liking, his hands being the only thing touching you. 

“Put it back.” You got this far, now he wants to start questioning you immediately after waking up? He picked you up after meeting and ignored you for two weeks, you’re about to do what most others would. Especially if they’re in the same situation with the same circumstances.

“You’re not the one to be giving orders, much less to me.” 

You raise your hips back up to his head, having it dip into you, crossing your clit but unable to enter fully. His tip could find its way in no problem, it was just his call, and that almost drove him over the edge. You’ve stopped fighting back, for something like your freedom and what’s better for you. 

What you were after now was just one more orgasm brought by that monstrous mf. He doesn’t drop his guard, or change his face at all as he accepted “your bait/distraction”. In this position, you’re still straight legged, laying in his bed as he has you held down, arms pinned, palms up, and legs trapped as he sat on your thighs. 

He could easily kill you now, but it would honestly leave a bad taste as no one’s been killed in his room before, much less even entered without permission. You both didn’t know what to think really. 

To you he’s some strange and strong asshole who’s been unclear if you were his sex toy or if you were “invited” and he was just being a terrible host. Honestly, it felt worse to you to have everything you needed; Without your freedom, you were honestly thinking it’d be better to be dead. 

To him, you were dangerous. You got it all right. From the room, to the person to bump into, to the alley. You could have been a spy laying low, from whichever gang he thought you were from, he thought it would be good to hold you off to send a message to see who would come collect you first. They wouldn’t send someone if they didn’t have something to say. 

At first he did just want to keep you until one of them sent them back another message. It didn’t matter what happened to you, honestly he got bored. He’s a busy man, there was really nothing else to say. 

So imagine his surprise how you came crawling all over him tonight. He knew an assassin would’ve done it before he even knew the door opened, they were to make sure it was quick. The attack would have had to been fatal, whether they succeed in one shot or have them die as they’re leaving. And how quick they leave is how desperately they want to live. 

You, just came in to stare at him and decided you wanted something else. And it didn’t seem like revenge. That was a first, especially for him. Right now he was allowing it, letting you go. There was no way you could harm him, he concluded. 

Looking down at you squirm and pout, upset on how close you were to getting what you’ve been aching from and for. He won’t drop his guard, but he sure as hell was silver platter served. Really how badly did you want it?

He connects your wrists at the top of your head with one hand, the other has its index finger and thumb at the base, controlling himself with those two fingers. He raises his erection and knocked it against your clit, the strikes sent waves of pleasure from your core to the top of your head and palm of your feet, having you whimper out. 

Your aching hole needed him, it was taking him so long. Seriously you wish he’d kill you now because this so actually torture. The only thing you could do was start to cry, tears leaving their corners and running into your hair. You were more than frustrated. Angry, horny, needy, powerless, you wanted it so bad you were losing control, it didn’t matter, no one else could judge you, and who would be worse than Sukuna?

“You came in here, climb all over me, just to cry now? You’re so pathetic.” 

“Please,” You whine. “I want you to put it in.”

His face changed, from laughing at you beg, to sharpening his focus. Even after all this, getting caught, threatened, insulted, you’ve started to beg for it. He takes his legs up from pinning yours, putting them to your sides as he aligns himself to your front hole. “Say it again.”

“Please Sukuna, put it in-“ He lowers his hips and dives deep into you. He watches as your head writhes. Instantly youre spread apart, the sudden plunge casted a warm blush across your face and electricity towards the tips of your fingers. “Oooh,” 

“Fuuuuuck.” He finished for you. He continues to grind deeply into you, quickly using his now free hand to gag you from waking everyone up. Good thing too as you were messy, fucked silly couldn’t cover it. You gave up control a long time ago. He wouldn’t kill you, not right now anyway, you especially wouldn’t let him without trying to get one last nut. It was diabolical how down bad he had you. It was more of your unhealed trauma and he just happened to be the best person to help you out, willing or not.

——————————————————————————

You lay there as the base of your back ached. Every part of your body was bruised again, you could only imagine to move again as you tried catching your breath. You had lost count on just how many times he’s forced an orgasm out of you, mind numbingly rich euphoria every time. Nothing else mattered, you were more than thrilled the first 2 times but started to wonder if he ever got tired. 

It wasn’t until after your fifth orgasm that he managed to get his first one in. You were honestly almost regretting climbing into his room but his second had him pinning you on your back as he lay on your lower torso and legs. You couldn’t feel anything but your pulsating cervix, half feeling good from the pain and lingering pleasure, the other half making you know that this was a mistake and the nausea was on you. 

Raising your free arm, you weakly start to pat his head. It was over, you insatiable perverted needs were fulfilled, so what were you going to do now? It’s not like you’re in love with the guy, you don’t even know if you’ll get to wake up tomorrow with this stunt. “It was worth it.” You thought. Running your fingers thorough his hair, and tracing his back, you fall asleep holding him, accepting that this is it.

#jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #dark jjk #tw #tw dark content #sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #nanami x reader #taaottw #taaotjjk #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #satosugu #gojo satoru #geto suguru #mafia au #dddr #mdni

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

ok now here’s an idea I know you’d love

Mafia leader Lucifer x prostitute or stripper Adam

Stripper Adam yes! He'd like the idea of exciting people knowing they can't touch him.

Ooooh what if Mafia leader Lucifer saved him from that life, cause he was forced to work off a debt of the club owners?

He would buy all of Adams time at the club, making sure he only dances for him up until he gets him away. He gets Adams passport and keeps him at the manor.

The potential here.....

Thank you!

#adamsapple #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #ask #mafia au

[lt-rosso]

LOLLIPOP ~ 📍

🔔They are both Adult!

Simply, the story behind goes like this:

Core!Frisk: Sigh!!! Another day of boredom.

Error!Sans: *Ripping space sound*

Core!Frisk: woooo!! Hello big guy *teasing*, it's been a while, huh hihi. What are you up to? You've been eating a lot lately, huh? That's why you're looking all chubby, hehe, so adorable!!!

Error!Sans: Glare …….ghhh!!!

Core!Frisk: Do you like lollipop? I've got some lollipops here.

(Looking for lollipops)

Core!Frisk: Oh no, I think I ate them all, sorry, I guess there's none left for you.

Error!Sans: Are you sure? There's still one left.

Core!Frisk: Hmmm? What are you talkin'….?! (Turn around)

Error!Sans: grab Frisk's hand

!(Art Scene)!

Core!Frisk: …. blushed

Error!Sans: ….. blushed Thanks for the lollipop!

end!

😭 Godd! I want to draw a one-shot comic for this story so badly, but I just don't have enough time. So maybe one day in the future, I will draw it. 🫶

This shipping is inspired by: @muimeo

Mafia Error's design reference by: @inkz123 link: here!

Error!Sans by @loverofpiggies

Core!Frisk by: @dokudoki

Thank you for reading this! 🫶❤️

#undertale au #error sans #undertale #core!frisk #frans #sans x frisk #mafia au #mafia sans #mafia frisk #sans #undertale fanfiction #undertale fanart #bara sans #errorcore

[sinclairmaxwellao3]

Me: "Okay, an hour of focused writing time! LET'S GO-"

My Dog: *appears from the ether looking cute; lays her giant head gently on my arm*

Me: *weak willed* NOOOOOOOOO!!!

#fanfic #fanfiction #creative writing #ao3 writer #lambs&slaughters #mafia au #the sun and moon show #dogs #pets #cute animals #noooooo #can i just give you cheese? #my weakness

[wedonthaveawhile]

Betraying the devil you know // Prologue

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

AO3 link // Wordcount: 500 // Tags: Explicit | Allies to lovers | Dark | Violence | Jealousy | Angst | Smut | Trauma | Forced proximity | Implied alcoholism | Non-canon deaths | Mafia AU.

Months. That's how long Marvolo Gaunt has been crushing the life out of you. One reckless decision was all it took to be dragged into his inner circle to pay for your sins. However, being his favourite informant has its perks—you hear whispers: a civil war is brewing among the Gaunt's.

Is it better the devil you know, or do you seek refuge in the arms of the enemy?

Working for Marvolo Gaunt had taught her enough to know when she was being followed.

It was the hooded stranger in a candlelit recess of the Leaky Cauldron. The shadow drifting across her path on the walk home. A silhouette eclipsing the moonlight as they stole a glance through the window into her cramped flat.

The domestic wards had obstructed all their attempts to enter.

Her boss had gone to great lengths to ensure she was cordoned off from the public. A museum display, reduced to nothing more than one of the polished trinkets in his collection—untouchable. Her identity had been erased and her life turned monotonous.

At the crack of dawn, she would apparate to him for a briefing. Following her shift at the inn, she would obediently report back the whispers on the wind before retreating home to drown his haunting voice in firewhisky. It rarely did the trick; he was omnipresent, slithering in and out of her consciousness without reprieve.

Deliver this package to table four at noon.

The minister's aide will be in tonight; keep an ear out for my name.

Keep your guard up. If my brother's men make contact, I'll have to slice open your pretty throat, just as I did to your sweet little frien—

"Was there much resistance?"

An approaching figure tore her from the depths of her memories and propelled her back to the present. The tone of voice was serpentine smooth, similar to Marvolo's, but watered down—less tempestuous.

Harder to gauge a solid read.

It made her nervous.

"She didn’t even scream," bewilderment spiked through a wizard's Cockney accent, "even when we shoved her in the trunk. It was fucking bizarre."

“Never let anyone take you to a second location”, Poppy had warned when they first moved to the city. A nugget of widsom from a gentle soul who never imagined they would need it. It churned her stomach to know this was how she was honouring her memory, disregarding all the anxious advice she'd ever imparted.

Her muscles tensed as light footfalls began circling the chair to which she was tightly bound, a sharp pain searing through her shoulders from where her arms were restrained at the small of her back.

Intermittent bursts of crimson light pierced through the thick fabric draped over her head as the tip of a wand subjected her to thorough scrutiny.

The Gaunts struck fear into the hearts of many; their name a cautionary tale mothers whispered to their sons to keep them on the straight and narrow.

This particular Gaunt was a ghost story. A strategist, always orchestrating his moves from the shadows. Unlike his brother, he never graced the pages of the Prophet's socialite section, nor tarnished the ones dedicated to the escalating crime rates.

Patient, inscrutable, and lethal.

The bag was whisked from over her head and she blinked rapidly, the sconces nailed to decrepit walls swimming at the edge of her vision.

Her life had been torn from beneath her feet because of a foolish lapse in judgement. As her focus honed in on Ominis Gaunt's levelled wand, she prayed she hadn't made another mistake.

"You let us abduct you, didn't you?"

#ominis gaunt #ominis #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #ominis x you #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x y/n #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt angst #ominis gaunt fluff #ominis gaunt smut #marvolo gaunt #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts oc #hogwarts houses #hogwarts legacy ominis #sebastian sallow #mafia au #betraying the devil you know

[mysteriouscrimsoneyes]

After drawing Mafia boss Kakashi, I knew I had to draw the founders! Here’s Tobirama (his tattoos took so long to draw). The other 2 will take a while.

#tobirama senju #senju tobirama #mafia au #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanart #fanart #mafia boss #tattoos

[yelesomeblue]

Ok @sinclairmaxwellao3 this is for your mafia au. It was one of the first things I thought of really. I tried to make her a pudgy baby. Never really drawn babies before.

All Fiona did was smile at KC and he fell hard. She is now his beloved granddaughter and non shall disrespect her and live.

#sun and moon show #fanart #mafia au #sinclairmaxwellao3 #lambs&slaughters #Sun and moon show kill code #sun and moon show au #how do i tag this

[soul-shenanigans]

Bad boys, bad boys-

Whatchya gonna do-

#undertale au #bad sanses #horror sans #sans #nightmare #mafiatale #sans au #killer sans #dust sans #error sans #mafia #fanart #art #mafia au

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

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

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 5.1k+

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

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

browse the Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

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

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

Rooted.

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

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

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

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

Curiosity, indeed.

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

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

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

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

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

"Lemme pick you up."

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

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

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

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

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

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

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

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

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

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

"So, is that a yes?"

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

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

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

"I'll bring the camera."

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

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

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

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

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

"It's 15," he growled.

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

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

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

"Don't hurt her - "

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

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

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

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

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

You sniffled, unable to respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

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

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

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

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Peach - "

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

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

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

"Out with Nat," you eased.

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

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

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

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

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

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

"About...?"

"Me."

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

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

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

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

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

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

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

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

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

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

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

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

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

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

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

"They can take it."

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

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

"Bucky," she growled.

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

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

"Why lie, then?"

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

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

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

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

"You had to do something."

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

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

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

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

"I didn't mean - "

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

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

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

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

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

Clingy...

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm here."

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

"What's wrong?"

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

"What the fuck does that - "

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

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

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

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

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

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

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

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

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

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

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel au #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky x you #mafia au #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes hurt/comfort

[tarjapearce]

El Diablo Wears Prada

Mafia Boss! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Cucking, Forced Voyeurism, A bit of Dark Miguel, Dom! Miguel, P in V, Oral (F receiving) Face sitting, manhandling, mild knife play, criminal undertones, Implied mild exhibitionism, emotional distress, mentions of cheating, Dubious morals, implicit non-con oral at the end (M receiving). No proofread.

Summary: Tired of warnings and dialogues with your stubborn and corrupt husband, The Devil shows up at your home.

A/N: Had to get it out of me. jsksj. Finally. Enjoy (?) ❤️✨.

Pt. 2

From the many times people tried to persuade you from marrying your current husband, none of them were successful.

Massimo Bianchi. An important lawyer that had swooped you off your feet with his smile and Italian charisma.

People often told you that he wasn't good. None had to be a genius to know the man was in shady business as his main job was to defend the top dogs of  corporate world. He didn't have to mingle with underworld criminals to know how they worked cause he was one.

Corrupt lawyer that always came out successful in his cases. But you remained on the shadows, blissfully ignorant of your husband's doings to the world. All you knew was that he was the head of his firm and that alone earned him a good chunk of money.

You thought him good, though your marriage had been cold for the last few years. Even though he spoiled you with things, you didn't want materialistic rewards. You wanted him.

A true fool. Your friends called you. Sometimes you truly wondered if it

was love or just that attachment that had grown over time? The kind that makes one so used to a person that their absence feels odd yet expected? You didn't know nor cared. As long as he kept coming home at night, things would be right. Everything would be fine and the fake illusion of a perfect marriage would keep playing in the background.

And it was. Until death threats kept coming into your mail. All of them saying the same.

Stay away.

Confrontations weren't really your thing, but the tension had turned so dense that arguments were the main course of everyday. Massimo refused to spill the beans as dread only kept growing inside your already rattled mind. Just like the death threats. All of them signed by El Diablo.

"Amore, he is none. Just a petty criminal that is pissed I'm locking up his associates."

Lies, lies and more lies.

A petty criminal wouldn't put you on edge, wouldn't make you feel watched. Cause in truth, wherever you went the feeling of being observed remained etched in every step you took.

"That's exactly what they want you to believe, cara mía. That's a tactic for scum like them to scare decent people like us."

You didn't pressed any further, rather save your breath. He was as closed as an hermetic safe box.

-----

To relax your nerves you decided to go shopping, and returned home with an idea that you were certain would rekindle the cold flame in your marriage. Massimo seemed way too busy in his work to make an approach, and when you wanted to initiate things, he'd just push you away with the excuse that he was exhausted.

And you were tired of toys and your hand. So, you took a bath, lathered your body in rich and delicious smelling oils, and slipped into an emerald green silk and velvet lingerie set you just bought.

You hid it all underneath a skin tight black dress that enhanced your body shape. Hair done in a messy yet sultry look, a subtle fem fatale makeup with a gorgeous shade of burgundy lips.

The sound of your husband's car breaking violently snapped your attention at the front door. Massimo bursted out through the door and you smiled.

"Hey, darling!"

"Pack your shit. We're leaving."

You frowned in confusion at his sudden panicky and antsy state. But most importantly his tone. Urgent, demanding and scared.

"W-What? Where are-"

"There is no time for questions! Just do as I tell you! Now!"

He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the bedroom.

"Massimo, you're scarying me. What's going on?!"

Bianchi groaned as he threw you on the bed, nose flaring in anger at your reluctance.

"Non hai sentito, stupida stronza? Fai quello che ti dico, cazzo!" (Didn't you hear, dumb bitch? Do as I fucking tell you!)

Your teary eyes widened at him, frantic and fumbling with the suitcases. Filling them with papers and valuable objects. Not even clothes, just things you were sure he treasured more than your marriage.

"MOVE IT!" He roared and you blinked away your tears, scrambling out of his sight. He muttered things you didn't understand much as he shoved more papers inside. You grabbed the first suitcase you found and filled in with the necessary.

The sound of cars breaking and revving into the pebbled porch of your luxurious  home made Massimo to pull out a gun, you gasped and he ushered you to come closer. You kneeled next to him as he spoke in hushed whispers.

"No matter what happens, you remain silent okay?"

Your trembling hands clung to him as fear begun numbing your judgment. There was a collective round of car's doors slapping shut and footsteps that approached almost in scary synchronization.

"Go through the pool entrance, take this with you and leave. I'll see you in the other apartment"

"N-No, Massi-"

He kissed you, as he pushed a stack of documents further in your hands.

"No matter what, don't let them get this, ok?" His hushed whispers didn't help soothing your already fried nerves

"Massimo!"

"Go!"

He dispatched you with an angry growl, shaking legs scrambled once more ducking down the windows. You removed the heels as you crossed the manor, tears momentarily blurring your sight as you reached the pool. A shot in the air made you still, before you ran back inside.

A few shots and screaming voices followed you. The pained screams of your husband along some grunts made you whimper in fear. You hid behind the kitchen's large breakfast island as steps echoed ominously close. No matter in what direction you tried to go, the men, clad in black and red were there. Awaiting for their prey. Anything that moved.

The paper crumpled under your tight grip, and you covered your mouth, to remain as quiet as possible. Heavy steps retired from your area, and you exhaled in mild relief. Heart pumped hard with every passing beat, you snuck past the island to go back to the main entrance.

And just as you were about to taste freedom, the largest man you had ever seen, clad in a rich black suit and polished shoes, blocked your entrance with a stoic gaze that shifted into a shameless smirk upon seeing you.

Big, strong and long limbs trapped you against him as you cried and thrashed in a meek attempt to free yourself.

"Shh, shhh shh"

His nose nuzzled your neck and you stilled, tears rolled down your cheeks as he pointed a gun to your head. The cold metal against your temple made your breathings erratic.

"Tranquila, corazón. I'm not gonna hurt you." (Relax, sweetheart)

He dragged you to one of the many spare rooms in the house. A tall black woman with a frondous afro was finishing tying Massimo on the ground to then wipe away the blood caked in her brassed knuckles. 

His handsome face littered in bruises, a blooming dark eye on his left, a busted lip and his broken nose was all that remained after the bravado he often boasted up. Your heart couldn't help but sink in further at the sight.

You tried to go to his side, but the man only tightened his grip on you.

"Mr. Bianchi."

The man holding you spoke, to then aim his gun to him.

"S-Stop! Please!"

He kissed you deeply as his hands handcuffed your hands back. The kiss was so fast you barely had time to digest it, just like everything that was happening around you.

"You really need to shut your pretty mouth for a bit, cariño."

"Hei! Lasciala!" (Hey! Leave her)

A blonde man kneed him in the stomach, knocking all the air out of Massimo as he doubled in pain.

"Stop!" You squealed in between hiccups. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. The papers you were given were long gone from your hands.

The woman with the afro smirked upon reading them.

"We got it, Miguel."

Massimo gulped at the name. Miguel O'Hara, one of the major criminal Don's in the underworld, El Diablo himself had came to his home to collect his reaps.

"I tried to be a reasonable man with you, Mr. Bianchi, but given your stubborn nature to cooperate and pay what's rightfully mine, I must take drastic measures for you to understand that I don't like being lied to."

Miguel made a sign for everyone to leave.

"M-Massi? What... What is he talking about?"

"You lie to your lovely wife?" His face turned one of disgust and his large feet pushed Massimo's head on the ground, his swollen cheek flattening against the expensive Prada shoes adorning Miguel's feet.

You only looked away as your husband groaned in pain despite Miguel holding back from hurting him seriously.

" You see, cariño. Your doting husband right here, has been fucking around with my associates."

He removed the outer layer of his suit and carefully laid it on a nearby chair.

"People that have worked hard for what they have and have come to me in dire need of protection against this... greedy coward."

Your eyes snapped back to Massimo as he kept folded in pain, his eyes adverted from you.

"Bribing the judges, increasing taxes, charging extra fees to those who need him? And not enough, this cabrón tiene los huevos para pedir dinero en mi nombre." (This fucker has the guts to collect money in my name.)

His meaty mouth clicked in disapproval. 

"Is that true?"

He remained quiet, blood caking on his lips and chin.

"Massimo, look at me. Is that true?!"

"I'm really sorry you have to find out this way, preciosa. But don't you worry. I know he will pay."

Dread sunk in further at his words. If there was something you were so sure of, that if your life depended on it you wouldn't fear in risking it, is the little fact that your husband never really had the intention of paying debts.

A habit that stuck with him in your dating stage, something he never grew out of. And now the fatal consequences were only added in his karma balance.

"The hell I am!" Bianchi spat at his shoes, and Miguel, unbuttoned his shirt to then pull out a cigarette. He took a long drag. Cherry scent filled in your lungs as he blew the smoke in his direction.

"I'll put you behind bars, O'Hara!"

Miguel chuckled, showing his canines. One of the reasons of his nickname.

He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and crushed the ablaze end on your husband's forehead. A new groan of pain along a few Italian curses filled in the room.

You looked away, too scared and stunned to actually do something. What help could you possibly be? You were handcuffed, barefooted and emotionally all over the place. The many warnings about him finally weighing on your shoulders.

Your name was called between breathless and pained yelps, but you refused to acknowledge him.

"Let her go, please." You heard him, speak, but no words or pleas seemed to move Miguel. He just stared at Massimo with a bored expression as he crouched to meet his eyes.

"Hope you have told her that you cheated her with one of my favorite colleagues."

His words were the last stab you could handle, you broke in tears.

"I should kill you for that alone, but that would be too merciful of me."

Miguel stood up and prowled over you, his hands reached for your face and wiped away your tears carefully.

"I am a firm believer of 'An eye for an eye', Mr. Bianchi."

He removed the shirt, leaving his torso bare before you, eyes couldn't help but wander before retreating away, Miguel smirked.

"Are you?"

Massimo glared at him, heaving through the pain as he pulled a pocket knife and approached you.

"I'll have to make you a believer, then."

The sharp of the blade slid down your dress, enough to tear through the fabric covering your breasts. His lips pursed to give an appreciating whistle upon seeing your mounds clad in the velvety and silky texture of your lingerie.

" Con permiso, cariño." (Excuse me, darling)

Big hands took each a piece of fabric to tear the dress in half as you gasped and tried to scurry away from him. A hand grope your nape and you stilled.

One of his hands was big enough to pull you before your husband as the other one rested on the dip of your waist.

"Look at that. Por Dios... Was this a surprise for him?"

Upon your silence he squeezed your nape a bit tighter and you yelped.

"Y-Yes!"

"Too fucking bad he doesn't deserves it, right preciosa?"

"Don't you dare to touch her!"

Miguel nearly cackled at his measly threats. He took a couch and placed it before him. The coolness in the room made your skin crawl, but when he kissed your neck, an involuntary gasp left your lips.

"How long has been since this man touched you?"

His hands roamed your body, fingertips grazed your silky covered nipples as his other hand ghosted over your velvet clad pussy.

Another tiny whimper as he sat down on the couch, you were placed ontop of him, your thighs stretched, making to meet the width of his well sculpted ones, clad in fine wool. Hot and moist tongue caressed the upper part of your earlobe.

"M-Months"

You gulped and his touches stopped.

"You steal, you cheat and are a con man, yet you refuse to touch your wife? And me thinking I was the monster here."

He sat you in one of his thighs and pinched the bridge of his nose, an annoyed and incredulous look on his face.

"Lucky for you I'm in a good mood right now. Vamos a arreglar eso." (Let's fix that)

His hand cupped your chin and pulled you in for a kiss. Upon feeling his tongue invading your mouth, you recoiled but this only enticed him to snake his tongue around yours, sucking it and savoring you. The oils in your skin tickled his nose, a sweet and delicious scent that he'd often gift to his most prominent conquers.

But the way you had so dotingly prepared yourself for the cheating of a man you had for a husband, stirred something within him. You groaned as you demanded for air.

A thin dribble of his saliva connecting your mouths as hot pants fanned on eachother's lips.

He kneeled behind you and rolled your silk and velvet panties down your hips and knees. He tossed them away and bent you over, earning a yelp from you as your face was inches away from your alarmed husband.

"Don't" He shook his head and whispered. It came out like a silent plea that you ignored as Miguel sunk his face between your thighs from behind with a groan. Tongue teasing your mound, caressing softly at your clit.

You trembled and clenched your jaw to avoid moaning too loud. Shame spurted over your face in the shape of a bright red flush and a heavy feeling on your stomach. Big tanned thumbs spreaded your cheeks, to push himself deeper. His tongue lapped and teased; learning your skin's taste and texture that felt wonderful on his tongue and taste buds.

Wet and sloshing slurps made you pant and choke a moan as his hands grabbed your hips, exhorting them to use his handsome face as a seat. His tongue dribbled up and down your shivering and soaked flesh.

You groaned.

"Oh my god!" You mewled as you rode his face softly, "I-I'm so sorry!"

You spoke in between breathless pants as Miguel just moved your hips faster. Your mouth went slack and your needy breath fanned over your husband.

"Cara mía?" He'd whisper with pleading eyes but you were too enraptured in your brewing bliss. By instinct your hips seeked the movements of his tongue, chasing that relief only his mouth seemed to provide.

Legs quivered as they stood in their tip toes that curled in everytime he toyed with your clit. The smoothenes of his ministrations and the unceasing wet slurps he gave in your flesh, inched you closer and closer to the dangerous precipice of corruption and pleasure.

Another man was devouring you with such hunger you didn't think possible, as your lawful husband was forced to watch as you came right before him. It made your knees weak.

Eyes drooped before they clamped shut and your mouth hissed through panting and erratic breaths a needy Yes!

The guards outside the closed door were unfazed at Miguel’s antics. But the smirk on their faces were full of pride. El Diablo, their boss was someone people often had the misfortune of underestimate, until they were no longer laughing and rather plea for mercy or death, whichever came first.

Your hands behind your back slowly tingled as numbness spreaded upwards your arms.

Miguel separated himself and wiped his chin off your delicious slick and pulled the couch closer, he unzipped his pants and spreaded your thighs above his once more. Your chest heaved as you nested against his torso, fire licking your skin at the contact. The pocket knife was brought to your skin as he locked eyes with a disturbed yet aroused Massimo.

The tip of the sharp blades ran down up your torso, leaving a faint pink trail on it's wake, your breath hitching at the sensation until it reached the elastic lower band of your bra that held the cups together.

You didn't expected the quality elastic to give in so easily under the sharpness of a frail looking knife. Your breast spilled from the velvety green confinements and Miguel groaned while he hissed in delight at the sight.

He slapped your husband's face with a serious scowl

"Watch and learn how to treat a woman, cabrón."

Miguel fumbled with his pants and cotton briefs before releasing his aching and hard cock free. Bianchi adverted his eyes, embarrassed as defeat washed over him.

Miguel slapped the tip against your drenched folds, a cue for you to move your hips and smear more of your slick all over him before sinking in balls deep.

The intrusion felt delightful and painfully tight. Inner muscles clamped around him, making his head be thrown back, relishing not only at how hot and delicious you felt, but also at the feeling of your tightness trembling around him.

"Maldita sea preciosa, me estás matando". (Goddammit beautiful . You're killing me)

His hands hooked underneath the back of your knees, making you lean against him completely. Firm and cinnamon skin toned pecs supported your arching back.

Massimo couldn't help but peek under his disheveled hair and he nearly gasped at the sight. You were completely full and stretched at the size of his hefty cock. He could see your lower belly bulging a bit as his shaft rested within you. Bianchi was unable to look away, as emasculated as he felt.

A firm slap of his hips and it sent you curling your toes. Hips accommodated further in the single couch as his lips kissed your neck, canines grazing at your sensitive skin.

"So fucking tight f'me" He plunged you deeper, finally letting your walls meld to his size to then begin his slow thrusting. As much as he was dying to raw you silly, he had enough self control to be careful and not ruin you. That would come later.

It had been a long long time since he actually enjoyed having this kind of revenge. His eyes gave a quick glance to his beaten enemy and smirked in satisfaction when he noticed the bulge in between his imitation pants. Your hands fisted behind you, letting him to stretch you completely.

Your hips gave a soft rut, snapping his attention back to you, surprised you'd seek more of him.

His hands pushed your hips down onto him and your breast bounced. His eyes stalked yours, to assert his control, but you gave in so easily. Months of being untouched had made you a needy and sodden mess.

You were tired of your toys, and now that you had the real deal, it felt too good to let it slip. Things with your husband were surely done for anyways as fucked up as the situation was.

He'd probably be killed either way.

"Eyes on me, cariño" And just then, a sinful symphony of wet and merciless thrust fell upon you. Everytime he slid in made your pussy drool at his punishment. You cooed and stared at him with such a lovely and needy expression Miguel engraved in his mind.

Tears bit at the corner of your eyes as they drooped, taking your mind in this continuous trance of being torn between getting absolutely fucked out and coherent enough to give him a vocal reply like a moan or a praise and apologies to your voyeur.

"Cara mía, Don't do this to me" Bianchi shook his head in denial, but that only enticed Miguel to make it rougher.

Shy moans turned into shameless mewls and implorings that enticed him to ruin you at his contempt. The con man wished to cover his ears, but it was too delicious and forbidden to not indulge. Unavoidable too. Your pleas turned into lewd wailings and howlings. The tears and mascara long caked and dried on your cheeks.

Despite three years deep in marriage your husband would never care enough to leave you satisfied. It was everything about him, not really minding if you finished yourself by whatever means you found or thought right.

But this, this was pure torture. Sure, he didn't do anything to please you, but the thought of you being with another man always made him kick enough with the right amount of jealousy that would keep you satisfied for at least a couple of months while he kept ruining lives.

The slaps and Miguel's grunts turned desperate.

"Just like that! Yes!" You sobbed as his sac slapped against your clit, serving a good amount of punishment to your sensitive nub of nerves.

Your skin shook, breast bounced as you squirmed and twitched in absolute enjoyment.

"Like that, princesa?"

You nodded in between blown breaths, the pressure coiled tightly in the pit of your stomach. Menacing to snap at any second.

The sex and his Oud Wood by Tom Ford undertoned sweat made a puddle of your mind. Mouth gaped and shallow breaths came clenching through gritted teeth but he stopped just when you were about to greet God to release your hands from the back.

He pushed you on the floor on all your trembling fours, wool pants discarded completely, just as his CK briefs. Everything of him exuded with luxury. Even his rutting felt like an exotic meal you've tasted for the first time and you'd never go back to settle for anything less delicious and mind blowing than this.

But poor Massimo Bianchi was a reminder of your golden band that was wrapped around your ring finger.

Miguel's hand held tightly around the base of your neck, both hands melded at the size of your frail joint. both his feet planted on each side of you, caging you between his hips, and he sheathed once more in your already puffed and beaten pussy, making you yelp at the fullness and depth.

"Miguel!" You cried as your hands held on your husband's crossed legs. Your body lurched forward, meeting his cock in a merciless pace it had you bubbling like a total fool.

"I'm... Im sorry" A choked whimper, "Oh god, I'm so sorry Massi" Your mouth mumbled before Miguel squeezed your neck to keep you from apologizing to him, choking words in your gaping mouth.

He didn't deserve your regret, he deserved nothing. He wouldn't give him that much satisfaction.

"But it feels so good!"

You rasped and Miguel smiled darkly.

"Why don't you give him a farewell kiss, cariño?"

You shook your head and he frowned.

"No? Should I stop then?"

A whimper. Eyes twinkled in amusement as you reached for your husband and forced a kiss on him while El Diablo plowed remorselessly into you.

Bianchi could only whimper in pain as you bit his busted lip and kissed him, with a rough motion Miguel pulled you away from him. Your head far too gone into a place only he could reach. His panting and mumblings had turned borderline animalistic. He had praised you through it all and you were more than willing to comply.

Your body went taut, spent walls milked and creamed him as he cradled you against his torso. Body convulsed in bliss as he spilled his hot, sticky and big load inside your spasming walls. He laughed at your husband and at your dumb-bitch gone look.

He gave you a deep smooch before laying you on the couch. He slicked his hair back and caught his breath for a couple of minutes to then put on back his boxers. His eyes darted to an expectant Massimo.

Eyes wide. Still deciding between feeling horrified and happy for having such a twisted fantasy come true. A sick fuck through and through.

"I expect my payment within a month. More than enough time for you to collect what you owe me, Max."

Miguel purposely butchered his name as he threw his thousand dollars shirt you way.

"Put that on. We're taking a ride."

----

His men had escorted you back to his car. An armored black Bulletproof Lincoln Navigator SUV. House slippers was the only thing he had allowed you to get on your feet. The cold seemed to not affect his naked torso as he waltzed out your now wrecked home.

The cologne in his shirt stronger, as it covered your naked body from prying eyes.

"Get inside"

"N-No"

Miguel's nostrils flared in anger, despite the dazing and scrumptious raw fucking he put you through some moments ago, you knew he was a dangerous man.

"Why wouldn't you just-"

"-Ta madre, que entres al puto carro, mujer!" (Fucking shit, get into the fucking car, woman!)

His booming voice made you still with a frown. His temper switching surely made you confused. Tears welled up in your eyes, and seeing the sluggishness you took to get in, made him drag you inside himself, and sat beside you and sighed.

His sour mood was thanks to one of his men, Peter. He had the most awful timing to deliver news. One of his younger recruits had been shot. Not fatally shot, but surely would cost him a great chunk of money. Bribing judges to prevent him from sending him to prison, and medics through thirds would take some resources he was planning to use in another mission.

Miles G. Morales.

The name made his patience even shorter, and it didn't helped you were sniffling as your hands rubbed your ring despite the sore wrists.

After all he did to you you still thought about that cheating cuck?

No. He wouldn't allow it. Not when he has already found a perfect use for you.

As the ride begun he pulled up the middle window, blocking his sight from Ben as he drove. He made a couple of calls, you were recoiling away from him at every chance he tried to wipe your tears. Reject was something he was used to, that didn't mean it set right in his heart. And it showed as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock once more.

The calls ended and he tossed the phone back to the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out his gun to rest it on your temple.

Your eyes widened as he spoke.

"Clean it."

Fear clung to you as a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. But your mouth beat you to voice your true desires.

"No."

His brow quirked and smiled darkly once more. He grabbed your hair and pulled you down on your knees before him. Legs still recovered from the previous cucking session, not that he cared anyways. The SUV cabin was spacious enough for him to pull the stunt.

"Funny you think you have a saying, cariño. Now be a good girl and clean my fucking cock. You made a mess out it."

The gun was pressed further, the click of his safety removal made you gulp.

Was this the life that you'd get from now on? It couldn't be. Part of your brain refused to acknowledge him as your owner, but the other part was terrified and intrigued to see how all of this would unfold for you. You won't make things easy for him as he was already making it a living hell for you.

You mouth begun to work him as he pulled another cigarette and blew the smoke in your direction.

The Devil seemed pleased. For now.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #mafia au #t writes✨ #mafia miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #Something for kinktober I guess #kinktober

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 16: DP in 1 hole - Mafia!Stucky

Summary: You were adamant about proving Steve wrong and doing something you’ve never done before.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome (f/m/m), double penetration in one hole, size kink, dom/sub, sir kink, masturbation, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, overstimulated, teasing, kinda mean!steve, discussion of safe words, praise kink, creampie

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

“Just…Just do it; I can’t take it, I promise. Please, sir!” Each word you sobbed seemed to stumble into the next as you begged so quickly, wiping your tear-stained face on the muscled shoulder. The man beneath ran his fingers over your scalp to try and calm you, ignoring the fact that his cock was still pressed so deep inside of your cunt that he was knocking into your cervix with each breath, let alone thrust. Bucky was holding you tightly from where you lay draped over his muscular body, both of your chests rubbing against one another, and from this position, it meant that the Brunette gang member could look over your shoulder to the other man on the bed.

“Oh baby girl, you sound so pretty when you’re begging like that”, Steve mocked with an air of arrogance, loving that your reactions were becoming more pathetic. One of his big hands was wrapped around his cock, pleasuring himself as he squeezed your arse cheek with the other. He had the perfect view from where he knelt in the centre of the bed, with Bucky and you led out in front of him; even though your back was facing him, he could see where your face was turned to the side, see the tear tracks down your cheek.

He couldn’t blame you for having this reaction; this had been going on for hours, and you’d been so good for him, but sometimes he and Bucky wanted to play, push you to your limits. In doing so, you became increasingly more pathetic and submissive, whimpering and needy for more until either Steve or Bucky enough was enough.

“You’ve done so well for us, Doll”, Bucky praised with a smirk as he kissed the back of your head, which, in turn, earned an eye roll from Steve as he knew his best friend was just trying to give you all the compliments so you’d cling to him more. “How many times has she orgasmed for us now, Stevie? 5? 6?”

Steve couldn’t help himself as he spanked your arse cheek, watching the jiggle of the muscle and the way you initially cried and jolted at the action but then moaned and perked your arse up to receive another one. Bucky also groaned at the impact as your walls had clamped down around his cock so tight that he almost came. Steve chuckled under his breath at the glare from Bucky, who had been trying to edge himself for the last half an hour and knowing what Steve was like, he wanted to see just how good his will strength was.

“She’s came so many times that she’s made a mess over the bed, haven’t you, Baby? And yet, you still want more? I don’t think you can handle any more, especially both of us”. Steve licked his bottom lip as he eyed your pretty hole, even wondering himself if this was even possible; yes, he’d seen it on porn, but two cocks in one hole? “We’re so big anyway, Honey; there’s no way you’ll be able to take both me and Bucky.” Steve taunts and earns even more of a desperate cry, more tears streaking down your cheeks.

“Pl-Please, Sir! Just try; I can take you both; I know I can”. To try and prove some kind of a point that you were not done with the fucking, you pushed yourself up slightly on Bucky’s chest and began to ride his cock. However, you were exhausted, and your cunt was puffy and sensitive, so it was more of a gentle roll than a harsh ride.

“That’s it, feel so good on top of me, Sweetheart”, Bucky groans, both hands on your hips to try and guide you slightly, completely forgetting about the double penetration idea for the moment all thoughts turned to the steadily moving wet warmth that moved around his shaft.

Steve’s arm wrapped around your chest from behind so that his hand secured around your jaw, pulling you flush against him; his mouth dipped to the shell of your ear, teasing with his teeth and causing a gasp to escape your lips. “If it hurts, what are you going to do?” he asks, his voice full of authority that was usually just saved for when he was at work.

“I’ll say my safe word”, you immediately answer, clarity clearing in your mind as your movements slowed, knowing that this discussion was necessary.

“Good girl. Now if my cock doesn’t fit next to Bucky’s, you’ll continue to be good, aren’t you, and not complain. We’ll just continue playing like we have been, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir, I understand”, you say without any sort of whimper or stutter noted as your eyes finally blinked open. Bucky smiled warmly up at you, which caused your hole to clench at just how handsome he was, but before he could react, Steve was releasing his hold on your face and pressing against your shoulders until you were lying flat against Bucky again.

You stopped rolling your hips and waited patiently for the next steps, which were Steve’s fingers. He didn’t need to use lube just yet as the blonde leader gathered some of your fluid from where you and Bucky were connected onto his index and middle finger. Ever so gently, he ran his fingers around the rim of your hole, near your perineum, as this was the area presented to him and where he was hoping to slip his cock into eventually.

With Bucky still inside, Steve ended up teasing him and stroking the two of you. Adding extra pressure, Steve slipped his fingers into your hole, following Bucky’s length until he reached the first knuckle. You were snug around his fingers as he managed to push in a couple of centimetres further until nearly to the second knuckle.

Steve pressed his hand on your lower back as he observed you taking a deep breath to keep all the muscles between your legs relaxed, which made it easier for the man to continue to stretch you.

“That’s amazing, Baby, you’re taking my fingers so well. Look at that! Taking two of my fingers and Bucky’s cock, aren’t you our special girl”. Steve’s praises helped to keep you relaxed as you smiled and warmed at the words he was saying like he was stroking the happy part of your mind.

Bucky bit his lip at the sensation, which was difficult to explain. As Steve stretched your hole, it made everything feel tighter, and just as he pushed deeper, he also had the stimulation of Steve touching the sensitive part of the underside of his cock.

“Just going to stretch you a little bit first, then I’ll add another finger”, Steve explained as his eyes trained between your face and pussy. He moved both of his fingers in semi-circles, trying to see how far your walls were willing to stretch.

Holding back a groan, he could feel how much you were trying not to clench and knew if they did succeed with this, he would lose his mind. He just hoped he didn’t cum as soon as he penetrated, which was a similar thought that Bucky had.

Scissoring his fingers around Bucky’s cock, Steve shifted closer so that a third finger could be added alongside the other two. You desperately moaned in Bucky’s chest, fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving nail crevices in his one fleshed shoulder.

Steve remained still for a few seconds, allowing you to adjust before moving in and out slowly. “Fuck Steve!” It wasn’t you who moaned but Bucky who had closed his eyes to try and concentrate on not cuming before the action had even begun. It felt so good to have his cock inside your puffy tight hole, but then to have fingers as well stroking along his shaft was unlike anything he’d experienced before.

Looking over your shoulder, you took a deep breath and tried to sound as confident as possible, the tears having now stopped as you remained calm. “Please, Steve, I can take it, just try”.

Steve ignored your pleas to hurry up and continued to stretch your pussy, twisting and spreading his fingers to give his cock extra space. Even though he was three fingers deep, he and Bucky were not exactly small in the cock division. This was why this fucking session had been going on for so long because they spent so much precious time making sure you were adequately stretched to take one of their cocks, let alone two at the same time.

There had been plenty of times where one of them had been fucking your cunt and the other in your arse but nothing to the extent of two cocks in one hole.

You sighed as Steve finally pulled his fingers out and reached for the lube, coating his cock thoroughly before wiping a generous blob onto your pussy. Moving his entire body closer, Steve began to prepare for the insertion.

“Remember: Safeword”, Steve said loudly enough that you glanced over your shoulder and nodded. “Take a deep breath for me, Baby”.

You did as instructed, filling your lungs to the brim with oxygen before slowly breathing out of your mouth, which is when you felt considerable pressure between your legs.

As Steve was so thoroughly lubed, his cock nearly slid in the wrong direction, so he had to push the tip of his cock hard against Bucky’s shaft and then knock his hips with a deep thrust. At first, he wasn’t sure he would get it into your pussy with how much resistance he was met with, but then it nudged beneath the rim and was welcomed into the dangerously tight warmth of your cunt.

You had expected it to hurt in some way, but to your happy surprise, all it initially felt like was the deep burn that came with stretching your cunt for a cock, just with increased intensity. It was an odd sensation to experience, like you were going to break at the first stretch, but as your body relaxed and more of his cock pushed in, everything was just thigh highest level of pleasure imaginable.

The screaming moan you released echoed around the bedroom as Steve’s cock penetrated until he, too, was caressing your cervix with the mushroom tip of his dick.

Bucky's hands were massaging over your arse, hips and back as he tried to keep himself under control. Having Steve’s cock moving against his but pressing hard with the limited room, the difference in textures between your gummy walls and the solidness of the shaft. The tightness was another experience, almost like a pretty vice trapping his cock to perfection.

“Holy shit, Baby! That’s it; stay nice and relaxed for us. I'm just going to let you get adjusted for a moment.” Seeing his and Bucky’s lengths fitting into one hole, Steve was mesmerised. He even contemplated reaching for his phone and taking a picture to show you the wondrous thing your body could achieve.

With your cunt stretched so far, Steve and Bucky were adamant that they could feel your pulse fluttering through your walls. Not only this, but you’d squirted over Bucky from just the stretch.

You knew that you were too squished between them both to take over right now and ride their cocks and also the exercise that your body was going through; you weren’t sure you even had the energy to push off of Bucky’s chest to find a good position.

Thankfully, Steve was more than prepared to fuck for the three of you. His two meaty hands joined Bucky’s over your hips as he ever so carefully began to rock his hips in the smallest of motions so that only an inch of his cock was moving in and out of your cunt.

As more of his length edged out before being pushed in, your entire body seemed to just give up with the tension running through it with the anticipation of the double penetration. Your limbs went slack, as well as your jaw, as your mouth opened in a perfect circle to allow the animalistic grunts and moans just to seep out.

“You sound so good when you moan like that”, Bucky gasped as he tried to fuck up with Steve, causing your body to jolt with the movements.

Soon, they were both fucking your pussy, Bucky, at a slow pace that allowed his cock to brush over all of the hyper-sensitive nerves of your g-spot and with the pressure of Steve’s cock pushing on him, you could feel every since ridge of Bucky. Steve, on the other hand, was able to fuck you with a bit more intensity, sweat beginning to drip down his temple, but he couldn’t give a shit about that right now, not when his girl was taking him so well. 

“I’m so proud of you, taking both of us so well; you feel so fucking good”. Steve’s voice sounded almost as desperate as your begging did earlier as his eyebrows knitted together with the pleasure taking over his body.

Bucky was watching Steve, feeling his length fucking against his, the tightness of your pussy, the moans you were all sharing; he knew his orgasm was impending. Steve could see this from how Bucky’s hands slackened, and the grunts stopped as he tried to concentrate on not orgasming.

To be truthful, Steve was also near his orgasm, and you’d been in a constant state of cumming since both cocks had slipped inside, the coil in your abdomen tight and fluttering with involuntary contractions around their cocks. Releasing the hold on your hip, Steve reached over to grab Bucky's jaw, forcing him to look up at his boyfriend and boss.

“Cum for me, Bucky, I know you want to. Let’s fill our girl up together, yeah? Make her drip with our cum, that’s it, fucking cum for me, Bucky”.

Steve tightened his hold on Bucky’s face and slammed into you with an increased pace that your eyes rolled back just in time for Bucky to cum, hard.

“Fuck! Holy-Shit-” Bucky cried out, his body withering beneath you like he wanted to arch his back but couldn’t be with you on top. You could feel the wetness and warmth of his seed as he spilt deep inside you.

“Good boy, look so pretty when you cum. Don’t you think so, Baby?” Steve asked you, but you weren’t paying attention, not when you were deeply lost in pleasure. Steve’s pace increased further as he fucked his way to orgasm a few seconds later. More cum filled your pussy, mixing with Bucky’s as it began to drip out of you. Steve’s head tilted back as he thrust through the orgasm until the shivers ceased, and he could take a minute to catch his breath.

Sitting back on his heels, Steve’s cock slipped out of your cunt first, swiftly followed by Bucky’s, meaning the blonde had the perfect view of your pulsing, gaping hole as it leaked with their seed, dripping out onto the sheets below.

Despite being half asleep due to exhaustion, you managed to whisper, “See, I told you I could do it”.

#mafia!stucky #mafia au #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #stucky x reader #stucky smut #marvel smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mine*

[yunnuna]

Trigger

#fanart #illustration #art #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #kim dokja #joongdok #yoo joonghyuk #mafia au

[hanjisick]

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. 
This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

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