#and yeah it's very mob/mafia

[firebirdsdaughter]

The more I watch it…

… I definitely think the reason the Nate and Eliot relationship gets overlooked is that it’s very tacit and unspoken. These are two guys who do not discuss feelings, at least not directly, instead they just steadily… Fall into a pattern, they develop a system. The trust and loyalty between them isn’t spelled out in long speeches or discussions; it’s in the way Eliot starts to look to Nate for a cue if he should engage; Eliot allowing Nate to pull him back; it’s Nate never trying to force details of Eliot’s past from him; the way Nate only ever doubts Eliot once and then never again; the way Nate looks at Eliot after being forced to take a drink in the Bottle Job, or any other time; their conversation about the bank robbery in the Bank Shot job; Eliot being willing to kill for Nate; no matter how far on a bent he is, it’s in Nate never asking him to; it’s in Eliot and Sophie worrying about Nate’s destructive behaviour and his drinking; Nate telling Eliot ‘get them to the chopper’ rather than ‘get to the chopper’; it’s every time Eliot speaks out about a play or choice he doesn’t agree w/ and calling Nate out; it’s them sitting in silence in the bar; it’s the way Eliot falls in at Nate’s shoulder, or shifts in front of him in case of threat; it’s Eliot doing things Nate asks even when he complains; it’s Nate honestly responding when Eliot confronts him; it’s the Zanzibar Job; Eliot being mad Nate (and the others) left the baseball game early; Nate trying to protect Eliot from being forced to do the fixed fight; his panic at thinking Eliot’s been shot for a moment; Nate sounding for all the world like a proud dad during the country music ep; the exchange at the end of the cheerleading ep; them both harping on Hardison to tip the messenger; Nate trying to curb Eliot’s flirting; watching sports together; it’s the tiny glances they exchange or they way they sometimes move in sync.

Leverage Inc has no hierarchy, not really, not in the usual sense, but they fill their own roles based on their strengths and personalities. There’s no outright decision, no official acknowledgement, but they don’t need that. Nate and Eliot settle seamlessly into not just the roles of a mastermind and his loyal, trusted, and competent lieutenant and enforcer, but also something reminiscent of a father and an eldest son. They are actually one of the closest bonds in the whole crew (which is comprised of very close bonds, to be fair, but hopefully you get the point), they just do it so naturally and almost in the periphery that it can go unnoticed/understood very easily.

[hihkoo]

My piece for Resonant Waves Zine last year!

[risuola]

I — NOT YET — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN, who is a mob boss

When a guy in the club tries to assault you, you ask a random stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend. Little that you know that out of all people, you chose a mob boss.

cw: smut, mafia mob!au, briefly mentioned assault and tiny bit of violence, Sukuna (yeah, I consider him a warning), reader discretion is advised — 2,7k words

a/n: mada... mada mada~ the very second I heard this menace toying with Panda, Kusakabe and the rest in Shibuya, not allowing them to move unless he say so - my head went straight to the idea of him playing the same game in bed.

series masterlist

Sukuna never had to get used to being interrupted. Never. Anytime it happened in the past, all he had to do was to glance at the person and it usually got the message across. His gaze has enough power in it to quickly inform the intruder why invading his personal space or cutting him half-sentence is a damn bad idea. One look from him usually was enough to make anyone reconsider if they really want some problems. Sukuna had his eyes trained to be sharp and cold, his body strong and intimidating and his aura dangerous. He spent years building his reputation, earning a position in his world that now guaranteed him calm. Now everyone and their mothers know that he’s not the one to cross paths with. He’s a VIP, he’s allowed everywhere and he has no qualms about killing someone. Ryomen Sukuna is a brand, he’s a threat, he’s untouchable, invincible. No one in the right mind would ever try to start anything with him at this point. That’s why, when he tried to relax in one of many clubs that he owns in Tokyo, he couldn’t believe someone had the guts to push onto him at the bar.

“Hey, sorry, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend for a second?”, he heard near his ear and following the sound and the soft tug on his elbow, he turned his head towards you. Lucky girl, he thought while quickly assessing the view. You were too god damn pretty to be killed, looking at him with those pleading eyes that glistened in the harsh artificial lights. You were visibly scared of something, or someone, and oddly enough it wasn’t him who brought you to the verge of tears.

“Your boyfriend, huh?”, he mused, allowing his eyes to trail down your figure. The dress you had on left little to imagination and yet he wished to tear it off to see more of you. It hugged the shapes of your body perfectly and the silky fabric betrayed the lack of bra underneath. You were attractive, but clearly not smart enough to think twice before approaching a stranger.

“Please, I beg you, this guy—“, you tried to explain, squeezing your perfectly manicured fingers around his veiny forearm, but your sentence was cut in half when a man grabbed you by the waist, pulling you away just a little and harshly pressing your back against the bar. Sukuna watched as you winced when your spine hit the edge of the wooden countertop, he watched for a moment how you tried to push the guy away. With no effect, you weren’t strong enough to stand against him, you were trapped between the unwanted body and the furniture behind you, fighting the hungry hands that were groping your figure.

“Naoya, get off of me—” you tried, pushing his face away from where he was trying to suck a spot onto your neck.

“Oh, shut up woman, I know you want it,” the blonde-ish idiot grinned, twisting your arm enough to make a space for himself. He wasn’t bothered in the least with the fact he was trying to get between your legs in the very center of a club. Sukuna’s club.

Ryomen zeroed the whisky in his glass and got up from the chair. Usually, he would ignore situations like this. Other people’s problems were none of his business and he had enough his own things to take care of, to bother himself with anything else, but you. You were a problem he was willing to explore.

“Zenin, huh?”, he asked, connecting the name he heard falling from your lips with the wannabe gangster he heard about many times before. There was a certain reputation tied to Naoya’s name, mostly regarding his treatment of women but as long as he wasn’t touching his women, Sukuna couldn’t care less about this trash of a man. You definitely were not his woman. Yet.

“The fuck you want, I’m busy,” Zenin groaned, pulling his nasty mouth away from your shoulder for just a moment, only to shot a glare to the club owner.

“I can tell that you’re busy,” Ryomen grabbed one of Naoya’s wrists. It wasn’t looking like a hard grip, but the face of the blonde betrayed the sharp, bone-breaking pain he felt.

You felt some kind of relief when the stranger you just met stepped between you and your unwanted date. The large body of him towered above you completely, he was bigger than you thought when you approached his sitting form, but you couldn’t think about it for too long when he dealt with Naoya so easily. Once the blonde was gone, he turned to you.

Your heart skipped few beats once you took the image in. The man was huge, way taller than you and built like a greek god. The sharp outlines of his muscled torso beautifully showed through the dark graphite dress shirt. Looking up, you could finally see his face clearly. His features were attractive, dangerous with the black tattooed lines around them. He could easily be a gangster or something.

“T-thank you,” you spoke finally, snapping out from the initial impression of him. He was a red flag, you knew that. If not for the circumstance, you’d probably be the first to run away from him. He was hot. An absolute smokeshow, but he was certainly bad news.

“Was he your date?”, he asked, pulling a chair that he was sitting on previously and twisting it to position, before his large hands landed on your hips. There was no effort whatsoever when he lifted you and sat you down on the seat. He opted to stand next to you.

“No… I came here with a friend, but she left earlier. I was just about to leave as well, but this guy stopped me,” you sighed. “He wouldn’t let me go, I was afraid that he’ll just walk after me to my home. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture in itself was soft, but you shivered underneath his touch nonetheless. You couldn’t quite tell what made him so… scary. Was it his overwhelming frame? Or maybe the calm, distant demeanor? He had authority, he was expecting submission and when he was looking at you, you felt like a prey of him. Strangely, you were quite fine with that. You had no wish of doing anything with Naoya, but this man… he was different, he was interesting, he made you cross your legs just to feel any kind of pressure between your thighs. “Your name?”

“Y/n,” you replied.

“Y/n. Nice,” he gave it a soft nod and ordered two drinks. “Ryomen is my name. Sukuna Ryomen. Memorize it.”

“Sure…”

At this moment, you had no guts to ask why was it important to imprint the name he told you into your brain, but it all became clear just barely two hours later. You couldn’t exactly recall the moment Sukuna led you out of the club and into his car. There was something so enticing about his entire aura that made you lose your ability to think. He made you break every rule you ever had for yourself – to not talk with strangers, not go with them anywhere. Before that night you were doing exceptionally good in avoiding danger, you somehow slipped through your life up until that point without any major problems, but once you faced the problem, it was a big one.

The talk was good, it flowed easily and the menacing aura that Ryomen had all around him kept you interested. You had no idea that you’re attracted to bad boys, and maybe you were not exactly into school hooligans. Turned out, you’re aroused by the much worse kind – the kind that keeps a gun behind his belt, drinks pure whisky and makes people run away just by shooting them a glance. Yeah, that seems to be the kind of men you are into, because if there was any common sense left in you, you’d be out the door and running towards the safety of your dormitory. If there was any self-preservation instinct in you, you’d be probably anywhere else, rather than in here.

In the most luxurious house you’ve ever seen, not to mention been inside of; somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo where you were not even sure how you can get back to your home from there. If you were just a little smarter, you’d for sure be in your own bed right now and not on the dark leather couch, with your silky dress scrunched up around your waist and your underwear torn to pieces and laying on the floor. If you had more braincells, maybe you wouldn’t be bouncing on that stranger’s dick right now, gripping onto his muscular shoulders as one of his large hands kept your hip in a dead grip, leading your moves up and down his girthy length and the other one tightly squeezed around the back of your neck, from where he was keeping his head close so he could kiss you so hungrily it took your breath away. But that’s just where you were. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

He felt so goddamn good, filling your tight hole to the very brim, stretching you to the point of delirium and he wasn’t even fully in yet. His moves were aggressive and yet sensual; he made you feel small even if it was you who was on top of him. You had no control, he made it clear with the way he was holding you and every time you tried to dominate him in any way, he quickly showed you your place back. Maybe later, he’ll let you have your way with him, but now, he was in charge.

“Think you can take all of me?” He asked against the delicate skin of your neck, now painted in red and purple marks he nibbed onto it. You could feel him grinning at the way you squeezed your little hands on his clothed biceps. He got you all exposed and yet he only allowed you to free his dick; his shirt was still buttoned up, his pants were still on his legs. There was a certain dominance shown in the way he got you all naked on top of his suit.

“N-no,” you breathed out, “too big.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” Sukuna doesn’t exactly accept no as an answer and he for sure gave you enough time to accommodate to his size. “You’ll take it and thank me for it, yeah?”

“Yes,” was all you could mumble, before both of his large hands landed on your hips. The iron grip, you were sure, was going to bruise you but now, it felt grounding in a way.

“Good girl,” he praised, his purr vibrated against your skin as he sucked yet another mark along your collarbone. It distracted you for a moment before he pushed your pelvis even lower, fully bottoming into you. Your clit made a contact with his lower belly, the harsh brush of his skin against the swollen bud making you moan louder than you were meaning to. You felt like all of your organs were moved out of the way just to make more space for his dick and Sukuna couldn’t be more satisfied by the way you took him in. “See? As if you were made to take this cock.”

Something incoherent left your mouth, a tear stained your cheek and the man was happy to lick it away, tasting the saltiness before he bucked his hips up, keeping yours in place. He took full control, thrusting into you with all the power he had in his muscular body and you held onto his shoulders with your little hands. The filthy, wet sounds were filling the interiors, bouncing off the walls and mixing with all of the whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips. Some grunts added to the melody, but you barely heard any of it, too consumed by the exploding pleasure between your legs.

Sukuna’s name was leaving your mouth like a prayer, you felt so close, you felt like falling and you had no intention to stop. The man grinned, licking a long stroke along your throat, his tongue curling upwards as it reached the tip of your chin. The taste of your skin felt intoxicating to him, he wanted to devour you whole, to keep all for himself.

“You wanna cum, huh?” His voice was taunting. “You’re clenching around me so fucking hard, you’re gonna milk me as well.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you near damn begged, chasing the bliss that you could almost taste on your tongue right now. It filled all of your body cells, rushed through your veins in ecstatic waves of lust.

“Not yet,” he ordered and it felt almost painful to force yourself back from the state of climax. You could tell he was playing with you, toying with his dominance, reminding you that it’s him who pulls the strings in here. And yet, he was still rutting into you, his movements completely different to what he was saying, he was fucking you like he wanted you to cum in that very moment. “Still not yet,” he teased, feeling your little fingers digging onto his shoulders, your manicured nails nearly making holes in his shirt as your eyes fell shut.

“Oh god, Ryomen, please,” you whined. Your thighs were shaking, your spine arching and the incredible tension below your stomach threatened to burst any second now.

“Now,” he ordered and just like that, all inside of you snapped. You came all over his dick, and you came hard. It felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced, like you were suddenly shot into another dimension and if not for the way he sped up his movements, you’d probably just get lost in the lustful feeling. Ryomen came just few moments after you, wrapping his arms around your waist and painting your walls white. You felt him throbbing, spasming inside of you, the hot seed gushed out of you as he was pumping it in, staining your thighs and the bottom of his black shirt. Then he pushed you down, fully onto his cock, plugging the way out for his cum.

You found his lips, swallowing his quickened breath as you kissed him with desire and he gave in, quickly dominating the kiss. You were tired, the muscles in your legs were burning from the intense exercise, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of still wanting more. He made you hungry, he made you unsatiated and you were sure, you won’t be able to recognize yourself after you’re done with him. You were never such a greedy lover but frankly, you never had a chance to feel that good with anyone. The boys you’ve been with had no skills and if not for the orgasms you gave yourself with your fingers, no one else ever brought you over the edge like Sukuna.

“Can you undress?” You asked him, your lips brushing against his as you mouthed the question and he chased your kiss with his head, grabbing your lower lip between his teeth. There was a certain expression painted all over his dangerously handsome features, the menacing aura amplified as he took his sweet time before replying.

“I can undress,” he began, yet there was a but hanging in the air. He had conditions and you were open to hear them. “I’ll give you two options, little kitten. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t undress. You can pull yourself together and I can drive you back to your home now. But I can also take the suit off, carry you to my bed. Then you’ll stay with me till morning, but don’t have any hopes for a calm sleep, no. The night will be as filthy as it can get. You’ll be sore tomorrow, most likely exhausted.”

You blinked hearing the options. It was clear as day, stop there or continue? You knew the answer already, your body decided for you even before he came up with an offer.

“Will you drive me home as well if I pick the second option?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s get you naked.”

» PART TWO

[bisquid]

Wait wait you can't just drop that off and not elaborate. What do you mean is there a mafia presence in Wales?? Please spill, what things did you notice??

Okay so bearing in mind that I have ADHD and Chronic Terrible Observational Skills:

I am in Cardiff

For a concert I am attending solo

Doors open at 5

4:15 ish I go 'hmm I should eat something'

Cardiff is - unsurprisingly, being tiny and yet home to FOUR concert venues - Very Busy

Find McDonald's

McDonald's is very full. I recall my last concert related McDick's experience, and promptly bounce

Directly across the street

Is an Italian restaurant

It looks closed but fuckit maybe I can beg for like. Bread or some shit

Go over

Am immediately pounced upon by the hitherto unnoticed chain-smoking woman hanging out by the door mostly hidden by a potted ficus(?)

"I was wondering if you were open and if-" "yes yes we are open what would you like?" (strongish Italian accent)

Inside restaurant is Deserted

Explain that I'm sort of in a rush, am assured it's fine

Order chicken milanese which is generally a pasta dish with a breaded chicken component

Am led to seat nearish the front and promptly provided with a pint of coke in a glass tankard

Am then provided with a front row seat to an absolutely incomprehensible series of people entering and exiting (and in one case walking directly into) the door to what I can only presume is the kitchen

Starting with the guy who had been sitting at a table chain-smoking over a pile of papers

I counted at least three people exiting at least twice without actually entering in between

Am finally brought food

It is a breaded, butterflied chicken breast approximately the size of my face and a small pile of pasta approximately the size of my fist

It is all delicious

Chain-smoking papers man reappears, now wearing a chef's apron labcoat thing

Go up to pay, chain-smoking ficus lady is now having a very loud argument in a language I did not recognise but was not Italian Welsh English French russian Gaelic or Spanish

She sees me, says, and I quote 'ah little girl lost, one moment' and promptly hangs up

I am 27 and only nominally female

I am not remotely lost

She charges me for the pint of coke but not the food

I try to point out that she hasn't charged me for the food

'do you want to pay for the food?'

'.... Not if I don't have to?'

'good'

I leave. The door is now full of half a dozen very tall very Italian men and one absolutely adorable cocker spaniel

I ask if I can pet the dog (I have my priorities straight okay)

I am allowed to pet the dog. The dog and I are now best friends

The dog lead holder asks me in extremely accented but impeccably correct English if I had enjoyed the food

'yeah it was great!'

Everyone laughs a bit

I smile and pet the dog and realise I'm now late for the concert and hurry off

I see a post on Tumblr about mob fronts and several connections are made in my brain all at once

[cloudystevie]

pavlov's dog

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

pairing || mob boss!bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 1812

summary || he kept you waiting and it's his honour to make it up to you.

warnings || smut! loosely depicted mafia business, daddy kink, oral fem receiving, pet names, begging, mild degradation, dacryphilia, pussy slaps, cmnf, subspace, dom!bucky

author's note || 18+ ONLY. hi. i haven't written for more than a year and a half. ive been feeling some type of way about bucky and maybe getting back to writing mindless porn is what i needed to get my creative fulfillment ive been severely lacking. please don't mind the potentially choppy smut as i haven't written in a long while. feel free to reblog and leave comments!!

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

8:53.

8:53 PM, and you were still waiting for Bucky to finish his meeting. A recent competitor was threatening Bucky’s monopoly in New York, apparently, something to do with some guy who owned a publishing company inherited by his grandpa, who was looking to buy one Bucky already owned.

Whatever. You weren’t really listening when Bucky was talking about it over the phone because you were too busy keeping his cock warm.

You watch the digital clock flash another minute, and finally, your phone dings with an activity notification at the front door. Before you can try to be chill about it, you all but run to the door to greet your man, practically jumping on the balls of your feet with excitement. The door swings open, and you barely glimpse Bucky's tired and frustrated expression before it morphs into a sweet smile reserved for you, making his eyes crinkle at the corners and shine. 

Running into his arms, you koala hug him as you nuzzle your nose into his neck. He expertly toes his shoes off while showering you with the same attention. “Were you waiting by the door for me the whole time, baby?” He asks with a smile.

Nodding your head yes and widening your eyes while twisting your lips into a pout, you decide to play the sweet, patient girlfriend who Bucky knows you really aren’t. “You kept me waiting for 4 whole hours, Jamie, 4 hours. I stood right by this door and didn’t take a single break until you came home.” 

A hearty laugh escapes his lips at that, and you can feel the tension from his shoulders leaving as you gently rub them while still managing to cling onto him as he maneuvers you two to your bedroom. Unfortunately, both of you are well aware that patience is a virtue that you very simply do not possess.

“My poor, incredibly patient and honest baby. How rude of me to keep you waiting like this, huh?” He keeps his voice low, both in pitch and volume. It sends a tangible shiver down your spine as he sets you down on the bed. You bite your bottom lip, subconsciously spreading your legs, unable to hide your reactions from him.

Bucky loves how responsive you are to him.

“So mean to me daddy.” You whisper, “need you to make it up to me.”

Bucky licks his lips and clenches his jaw because fuck he needed this, especially after being stuck at his office for nearly 4 extra hours while you were at home looking like this. So sweet and soft and submissive for him; all he needed was someone to control because his empire in New York was being tried.

But Bucky had it under control. He always did. This wasn’t the first time he had to deal with a newcomer who decided to get a little ballsy and try and take over some of his territory.

He always did fuck you more aggressively when work had more hiccups than usual.

“Yeah, honey baby? How do you want Daddy to make it up to you? Use your words.” Bucky’s tone kept dropping, getting deeper and deeper with each delicious word he spoke to your somehow already foggy brain.

Even while he was giving you some control, he managed to maintain dominance over you, and that just flared the heat pulsing between your thighs.

“Need you, daddy, want your mouth.” You whisper, heat spreading your cheeks as you voice what you want, but a surge of pride goes through Bucky. At the beginning of the relationship, you had really struggled with voicing what you wanted, whether it was something like telling him you didn’t feel like getting dolled up to eat at a luxury French restaurant and wanted some burgers instead or how you struggled to say to him you wanted him to take his shoes and coat off before he came inside your apartment and sat on your couch. He dealt with people who feared him every day, people who never corrected him or crossed him. It was made abundantly clear you are not one of those people; you need to tell him what to do and how to do it, and he will. Bucky would bring the moon and the stars to you if the thought ever crossed your mind.

Dropping to his knees will have to do for now, he thinks.

His large palms spread your thighs as your pliant body falls back, but you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch the show. Bucky smiles at you with hunger in his eyes as he licks his lips once again while gingerly sliding your pajama shorts down your legs. You inhale sharply as the cool air from the open balcony doors hits your core. Bucky can’t help the rumble emerging from his chest as takes in your already wet pussy, bringing his thumb up to flick your swollen clit and messily run the tip of his finger around your pussy.  “You were waiting for me without any panties on? You’re that fucking desperate for me, sweetheart? Ready to bend over for me as soon as I walk through the door?”

You whimper at his fingers and throw your head back, nodding it desperately fast. 

“Aww, don’t go quiet on me now,” Bucky teases, “you were being such a good girl telling me what you want. Don’t stop now, angel baby.”

You whine high in your throat as you tug on his hand that is still purposefully brushing over your clit, “Please, Daddy, just- just-” 

Before you can finish your plea, Bucky licks up your slit, expertly swirling his tongue around your clit as your thighs jolt around his head, and a surprised mewl leaves your lips. “Oh god, Daddy, need more, please more,” your hands reach out to grab onto whatever you can, one hand gripping Bucky’s hair, making him hiss and buck his own hips against his tight slacks while the other latches onto the silk bedsheets.

“Greedy girl,” Bucky hums against your pussy, but to your delight, he indulges you, slipping a thick finger into your pulsing hole. Still, before you have time to react to that, he’s wrapping his lips around your swollen clit for the first time tonight and sucks on it. Making your back arch up and your legs quake as you try to simultaneously push yourself away from him but pull him closer. A near-pornographic moan leaves your swollen lips as your chest heaves. You cry out his title as he slides another long finger inside you, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on your poor little clit and soothes it with kitten licks every few seconds.

“Oh Daddy, you’re gonna- fuck, you’re gonna make me cum please, Daddy, please can I cum!” You babble, drool seeping from your lips as Bucky always manages to reduce you to a mindless, pathetic mess. It had never been easy for you to stop or slow down your orgasm, as Bucky always tended to barrel it out of you. Although you had noticed that the high that spread through your body when he permitted it was much more euphoric than the orgasms that slipped out of you.

Maybe it was something akin to Pavlov’s dog effect. Conditioning.

Bucky was aware of this fact as well. He knew your body, your mind, better than you did. 

A satisfied smirk works itself onto his lips, and he grumbles something against your sensitive cunt, enjoying the way you struggled to keep your body at bay. “I dunno, my stupid little baby, dunno if you’re desperate enough yet.” Bucky’s words vibrate against you and propel you towards your high even quicker. Your whines get more high-pitched and breathy as you struggle against your boyfriend’s relentless tongue. “I am Daddy, I am desperate. Always am for you, please, Daddy, make me cum.” You whine a bit petulantly as your orgasm is right there. But he’s dangling it above your head and forcing you to obey him. So, you try the guilt-tripping route.

Tears well in your eyes, and your lip quivers, “Please, Daddy, don’t you wanna make me cum? Don’t you wanna take care of me? Make me cum all over your tongue and make a mess? Please, Daddy, need you so bad!” You cry, tears slipping down your face, and Bucky grunts, closing his eyes as he tries not to cum in his pants at the sound of your breathy pitch and the sight of tears slipping down your face.

He pulls back and curves three fingers toward your special spot, and takes his other hand to slap at your swollen clit in quick succession, making you squeal. Arousal paints your thighs as he quickly switches back to overstimulate your poor button by sucking on it so hard that your orgasm squirts onto his bearded face, making him groan in appreciation as he mumbles something like: “That’s it, there’s my good girl making a fucking mess like Daddy taught you.” But you are too out of your mind to really process his words as you struggle to breathe down from your high, tears slipping down your face as you bask in the overwhelming feelings of such an intense orgasm. 

Bucky kisses up your thighs and stomach, easing his fingers out and tongue away slowly so you don’t go from overstimulated to zero all at once. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your cheeks as he shushes you, bringing you down from your high with soft words and coos that appeal to your clouded brain. You cup his much larger hands in yours, pouting your lips up for a kiss, and he chuckles before placing a soft kiss against your swollen lips. He can taste the salt from your tears, and it sends even more blood rushing straight to his dick as he ruts his hips against yours, making you pull your lips apart on a mewl. 

“Daddy, will you fuck me now?” You ask with a certain lilt to your voice. Bucky scoffs before pressing his lips to yours and rumbling against your lips, “You’re an insatiable little whore you know that?” 

Manhandling you to the top of the bed, he throws you against the pillows as unbuttons his slacks and pulls his hard cock out, pre-cum oozing from the swollen red tip as he looks like he could destroy you. “I’m your little whore daddy.” You tease, spreading your shaky legs apart, and he licks his lips.

—--------

Bucky worked from home the next morning. Needing the extra time to make up for the late nights and the particularly strenuous activities that led into the early morning hours. 

As you sat on his lap, peacefully dozing in and out of sleep, he knew he had made the right choice that morning.

[harrywavycurly]

What You Deserve Part 3: Start Small

Masterlist: Here

CW: Tiniest mention of your toxic ex

Tag List: @littlered0000 @saramelaniemoon @ali-r3n @sapphire4082 @sweetmoonlove0214 @eddies-girl-22 @darknesseddiem @peaches-roses-sins @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @daisy-munson @cultish-corner @mrsjellymunson @aol19 @micheledawn1975 @2000babies

A/N: You might be nervous but don’t worry Eddie’s got you also it’s a long one so I split it up into sections and it’ll make sense as you read, enjoy🫠✨

“Good Morning.” “Good Morning…uh you didn’t have to knock on my door you could’ve just honked or-” “honked?…sweetheart I’m not sixteen and running late to school….I’m here to pick you up so that means I knock on the door or ring the bell…whatever you prefer and walk you to my car.” “Oh…Steven just honks…it’s not that big of deal really if it’s easier than getting all the way out-” “it’s not your job to make things easier on anyone…especially Harrington.” “Sorry…I’ll uhm work..on that.” “You don’t have to apologize…so shall we exit the porch now or did you want to stand here for a bit longer?” “Oh yeah yeah we can go…holy shit is that your car?” “One of them yeah…do you not like it? I went with the one that has the smoothest ride…since I know feeling comfortable while inside a car is important to you.” “It’s so…nice I don’t want to like…get it dirty or anything.” “Sweetheart…it’s car…it’s gonna get dirty and that’s fine I’ll just wash it…trust me…there’s nothing you could do that I can’t fix…so please…get in the car.”

“Okay…” “Your coffee is right there…and feel free to change the radio to whatever you want.” “Thank you…oh you don’t care if I touch this stuff?” “Well you’re going to have to touch it if you want to change the station…” “I’m uh not used to being able to mess with the buttons in the car if I’m not driving.” “Please tell me Harrington-” “No no Steven lets me but him and I listen to the same stuff so it was fine…it was uh…my last uhm boyfriend he..didn’t let me control anything in the car.” “Well let’s get this out of the way now okay?…I’m Eddie…or to you I’m sure you’d prefer to call me Edward but either way…I’m not your ex…so whatever he was like and by the sounds of it he wasn’t a very…nice guy…so just know I’m not like him…so feel free to touch all the buttons and change the station..hell roll your window down if you want I don’t care…what’s mine is yours okay?” “Really?” “Yes..that’s a big part of this…type of relationship…whatever I have you also have…and if there’s something you want then just tell me and I’ll do my best to get it for you.” “Oh wow…okay…uh so when you say relationship what uhm…what would I call you?” “What do you mean?” “Like…when you drop me off today and someone asks oh who was that? Is that your boyfriend? What…what should I say? I can’t just be like oh that’s just my…sugar daddy Eddie.” “Yeah that’s sort of a mouthful isn’t it?” “I mean that’s uh just assuming you….you want to be my daddy…sugar daddy…sorry I’m just nervous and you’re…a uhm little intimidating in person but not in a bad way it’s…it’s like in the same way I’d feel around Tony Soprano or someone like that.” “Did you just compare me to a mob boss? That’s the vibes I give off?….if so then me and my stylist need to have a conversation about my wardrobe.” “You have a stylist?” “She does my shopping for me once every two months or so because I hate shopping for clothes….but Tony Soprano…really?” “I mean…you just look like you could easily have someone whacked with the snap of a finger and…yet you also look like you give really good hugs which is important because sometimes a good hug can just fix everything and…and you just…I feel…safe? Even though I don’t really know you…I’d trust you with my drink at a party.” “I’m honored that you’d leave your drink with me at a party and I’m glad you feel safe with me…but you make me sound like I’m some super badass dude…when I’m just a business owner who doesn’t have any mafia connections at all so no matter how many times I snap my fingers no one is getting whacked…” “damn..I was going to give you a list.” “But I have been told I give good hugs.” “That’s good…that’s really good to know….so uhm…how do we actually do this? Do I sign something? Do you want a trial run to see if I annoy you or not?” “I don’t need a trial run…also this isn’t fifty shades of grey I don’t need you to sign anything.” “You’ve seen those movies?” “No I read the books.” “Oh…you…you like to uhm…read? That’s…great.” “So why don’t we start small for now?” “Okay…what does that mean exactly?” “You let me take you to and from work this week and we can get to know each other more and…you let me buy you dinner Friday night?” “Okay that…sounds fine.” “And Friday over dinner we can discus what we both want out of this? Does that sound doable?” “Yes…that’s doable.” “Perfect.”

“Harrington isn’t even here yet and the store opens in five minutes?” “Yeah but that’s fine I have a key and can open the store up.” “By yourself?” “Yeah? I do it all the time.” “That’s…not safe…Steve should know better than that.” “It really is okay…oh are you going to see Dave today?” “I am…I’m actually going to work on him myself.” “Really?” “Yeah I figured he deserved to be worked on by someone that knows his life story…I’m gonna do what I can for him don’t worry.” “Easier said than done…” “I know…oh look who decided to actually show up to work.” “He’s not late so that’s actually good timing for him…so uhm I’ll see you later?” “Yeah I’ll be here when your shift is over.” “So uh have a good day Eddie…” “thanks sweetheart…tell Harrington to call me.” “Uh oh he’s in trouble isn’t he?” “No…not at all…” “what are you-” “you didn’t think I’d let you open your own door did you?” “Oh…uhm well thank you.” “Have a good day…oh and please don’t wait for me outside when you’re done working okay? I’ll come inside and get you.” “Okay…I’ll see you later then…” “Yes…now I gotta go but I’ll tell Dave hello for you.” “Thanks…for uhm…everything.” “You’re welcome.”

[derangedanomaly]

Ever saw one of those dark powerful woman?

Like tall, beautiful, dark, dominate slightly degrading yeah that, Reader is that type of women and a mob 'wife' coming from a very famous company and does dirty business too but of course she's elegant with that and all, she doesn't like sharing period, Girl boss at it's finest

YES!! Love this.

MASTERLIST

BAD SANSES X MOB WIFE READER

Warning: suggestive, mentions of weapons, suggestive remarks towards the reader

NIGHTMARE:

He might appear calm, but underneath it all, he's just screaming in his head.

His horny buttons are going OFF

He seriously loves, and I mean- LOVES dominant people.

Nightmare often tries to appear to the others that he's the one that wants to dominate in relationship, and while that's partly true... He gets more hot at the thought of someone dominating him.

Let's be honest, a truly normal, wise person would never even THINK about going against Nightmare, unless he wants to die. So having someone actually DOMINATE Nightmare? That's a turn-on for him for sure.

He overall thinks he truly found his soulmate when he meets you. It's like it was fate! (Now he's just getting head over heels for you)

Oh, but he doesn't associates with you because he's madly in love with you! That's a total NONSENSE. he's doing it for his own gain of course. (He's just lying his ass off.)

One thing he probably doesn't like very much is how much manipulative you are. And it's not because he thinks it's "very bad and cruel". It's because you RIVAL him.

Like, he's supposed to be the most manipulative one here, not you! He'll kinda see this as a competition to be even MORE manipulative..

You can just consider yourself as done for, since he practically "claimed" you the moment you walked into the room.

KILLER:

"Mommy? Sorry.. mommy? Sorry... Mommy? Sorry-" and this goes on and on and on.

He loves dominative people, so he'll probably feel like he's in heaven the moment he sees you.

He thinks you're so cool actually. He can't help but stare at you mid-battle, just to see you elegantly cut someone's head open. He's literally foaming at the mouth.

Likes sneaking off, just to talk to you. You think he's so cute trying to get every chance he can just to talk to you.

He flirts with you. A lot.

One time, tried to borrow your pen and you almost broke his hand.

Will never forget that.

Doesn't like the fact that you don't share. HE JUST WANTS TO BORROW (add an item) FROM YOU??! Lmao, he's so frustrated.

You can command Killer anything, and he'll do it. No questions asked.

He's the subbiest sub the world has ever seen.

I'm dead serious when I say, that he'll do literally anything for you. All you have to do is ask.

DUST:

Tries to be respectful.. like....REALLY tries, but it's just so difficult with you.

He can't help but act like a wild dog around you.

You're just so amazing...

Likes the fact you're in a mafia. Reminds him of mafiatale Sans. (He gets along with him pretty well)

Please show him some tricks! He'd literally love it.

Likes your gun collection. (Probably gonna steal borrow one or two)

Please degrade him. He'll be on his knees. (Literally)

Would love to go on missions with you. He literally loves it.

Sometimes has trouble focusing when on missions with you. He just can't keep his eyes off of you.

Dust is anything but a shameless whistler. So there's like an 85% chance that he won't object you in such way. (Such as Killer and Nightmare)

He's the definition of women respecter.

After you two get together, he'll probably just wait until you're comfortable with doing anything suggestive with him. He's so patient too. 😭

He loves kisses. He won't complain if you decide to smother him in kisses ;)

HORROR:

He likes the fact that you're slightly taller than him. He doesn't have to look down. (Finally)

He immediately compares your position to Mafiatale Sans, and asks you if you're somehow associated with him. (It's your choice if you want to be)

Will probably refrain from objectifying you like Killer and Nightmare. He actually doesn't really like it. (He's just jealous)

He'll probably scold Killer for his behavior towards you. He doesn't care that Nightmare is his boss, he will scold him for making these crude remarks towards you. (This will bring him trouble 💀)

"It's...no wonder...that you're...'single'.." <- saying that to Killer. (Goddamn though 💀)

He's like a giant teddy bear towards you.. if asked, he'd do anything you ask for. And more.

I swear, it's like he's not even affected by your beauty. Though that's not entirely true. He has some thoughts...but tries to not act on them.

Show him how you do your dirty work! He's gonna love it, I can promise you that.

The only way I can really describe your relationship, is that he doesn't want anything happen to you x you can handle yourself.

He'll probably try to protect you a lot. From what? He doesn't know, but still does it.

[noroi1000]

could i request a gojo x yn where yn is a famous supermodel while gojo is like businessman mafia and she meets him in a part for influential ppl and some rival of gojo attack the party to catch gojo but can't do it and to save y/n gojo takes her with him in a hurry to make sure she's fine ( bro fell in love at first sight while y/n doesn't really care bcs yk very hard to be impressed type of lady ) but a plot twist in this setting sort of is that there has been cases of many murders recently and the serial killer is impossible to catch ( the killer is y/- ok yes u get it but she killed them bcs she ruined her family or sum like that so our baddie is taking revenge ) well this is a dark theme dark romance request so yep ofc there's dark content and no one knows abt y/n's past at all despite her status no matter how hard they try and gojo after taking her makes her stay with him bcs she's one of the few ppl who saw his face so for privacy purposes and gojo barely finds out abt y/n's "dark deeds" when she throws hints playfully ( she's kinda devious morally grey sort of woman ) and idk what to add much more honestly but yea a smexy romantic love story ( SUB GOJO PLEASE 🙏😍😩 ) and gojo brings her a person to kill every year on her bday bcs she feels "stabby" ( mindfuck book series ref if ykyk ) also ofc y/n continues her career as a supermodel bcs 💅🏼👠. as another personal preference don't make y/n younger as it's uncomfy to me so yeah jsjdndbdnfn

whew this was quite a lot

have a good day !

Beautiful Vengeance

cover by @blvckryx my advisor and friend

paring: Mafia boss Gojo x model reader (killer)

words: 4,7k

warnings: murders, violence, guns, some kidnaping, smut (sub Gojo/dom reader)

Your mother always wanted you to have a good life. That's why when you told her you wanted to be a model when you grow up, she supported you as much as she could. To give you what you might need to make your dreams come true.

Your career took off when you were a teenager. When you were 16, you won a modeling contest, and your name made headlines.

And because you took the victory from one person, your life was about to end...

You competing with a girl whose family was more important than yours. You won anyway thanks to your innate charm, which made you stand in the first place and people considered you a beautiful, future model.

Thanks to this, your career could continue to roll and grow. And you couldn't take that chance.

You've worked so hard. You were the pride of your parents.

But your only opponent was a spoiled female dog who after losing to you all she wanted was to get rid of you.

She was the niece of mob boss Q. A man going by the name Q, who made his living by killing people for hire, dealing drugs and weapons. Even human trafficking. His mafia teams were everywhere.

You didn't know about it until you saw a group of people enter your house.

You were in your room then, and you heard screams and sounds of fighting.

As you quickly made your way down to your parents' living room, all you saw was pools of blood covering the soft carpet.

And three people dressed in black with black masks on their faces. In their hands bloody knives that they used to make your parents lie on the floor with open but dead eyes.

You were sad. You were afraid. You lost your parents. You wanted to cry over their loss. They were everything to you. They loved you, you loved them. You could have lived with them 16 years of your life. And now... It's all over.

Or you die and join them. To shorten your suffering.

But something else popped into your mind. To make them suffer.

You could have died at their hands, or you could have gotten revenge for your parents by killing them.

And you want revenge for the destruction of your life...

So you silently walked over to the cupboard until the opponents saw you, and unscrewing the bottle you let the water flow out of the plastic, soaking the entire floor where one of the people was standing.

You smashed a nearby lamp on his head and stabbed him with the sharpened glass at the end. Throwing the damaged item onto the wet floor, you jumped back quickly, letting his body quiver with the current coursing through him.

You hit the other's neck with your elbow, pulling his head back until you heard a crack.

Such easy ways to kill someone...

You've already killed two people with your own hands. Even if the metallic, disgusting smell of blood was nauseating.

Before you were stabbed by the last man, you took the knife from the dead body, and plunged the bloody blade into his chest.

While his body was still moving, he managed to scratch your head with the tip of the knife, just above the ear. Cutting off some of your shiny hair. Making your ear and the side of your neck covered in drops of blood.

The man in front of you writhed in pain as you pushed the knife hilt towards him, holding the knife in it. Stuck in his sternum in the chest.

Even though you saw the fear of death in his eyes, you felt no regret. Even if he cried and looked at you pleadingly, you showed no mercy.

Just like they had no mercy for your parents.

As he fell to the floor, the knife fell out of his chest, staying in your hand. Covering your hands in scarlet liquid.

When he was twitching and moving away with the last strength, you just walked over to him, and sitting on his stomach, you drove the knife into his heart, slowly watching the life fade from his eyes.

You felt your pajamas soaking in warm sticky blood. However, you didn't let go of the blade as you walked over to your parents and hugged them, not caring how dirty and bloody you were. You slowly and gently closed your eyes and left the house. Heading to a place where you know where a girl used to live surrounding herself with people with "Q" marks on their clothes.

There was a calm expression on your face as you walked straight down the runway, focusing on going perfect. The flashes of the flash bouncing off your eyes. The outfit you're wearing looks so good on you. One of the collections of one of the most famous fashion designers has been selected for you. Alternating with two other models, you go out there, showing the clothes on your body for less than a minute. A then you go back to change into your next outfit, and leave when it's your next turn.

It was your job.

You like it. You are a famous model.

And you don't mind that people only look at what your body looks like.

You go to clothes exhibitions, you take part in advertisements for clothes, cosmetics, nail polishes, jewelry. You are the face of many advertisements.

A lot of people who hire you choose you because you're sexy. And there is mystery in you. And your eyes show killer sexiness.

Your pose is flawless, sophisticated.

Everyone who knew you talked about this mystery in photos and videos. Something obtained without photomontage and without any additional make-up.

And Dark Beauty when you're seen in the ads for the blood red collection. Everything from lips to nails was a rich red.

That color just reminded you of what had happened over the years of your life. You don't care as long as no one knows about it.

Besides, your revenge isn't quite complete yet.

When you were 16, you swore revenge on those who hurt your family and you. You are 23 now. You are a famous model that neither the media nor anyone knows the whole truth about.

Nobody knows anything about your childhood, nobody knows anything about your past.

"Our killer only kills those from Q? Pretty good..." the white-haired man muttered, looking at the lists of names killed by one person this month. Three people. He couldn't feel sorry for these people. Each of them had the symbol of the Q family. How could he worry about the death of his enemies?

"Gojo-san, there's going to be a fashion show party soon with Q's boss."

He looked at the man who had spoken to him.

He stood up, adjusting his white shirt, adjusting the collar. He put on a black jacket and black glasses hiding his face.

"I couldn't miss it. Let's get together, guys. Time to bust some Q's heads."

Upon arrival, Gojo sat in a chosen spot next to the raised stage for models.

Soon after, the lights all around went out. The stage was lit.

This made it difficult for them to find their target.

So they decided to wait until the main banquet and party started to catch their enemies then.

Those who hinder his mafia cannot exist. Creating a business is a daily routine for the great "Six Eyes. And when people who have contracts with him are suddenly found dead with a "Q" burned into their skin, he can't sit idly by.

When he watched the fashion show, he thought it was everything he had seen before. All models the same, with fake smiles, with everything to make them even more attractive to the viewer. In none of them, in his opinion, was one whose eyes reflected the soul. And Six Eyes draws attention to human eyes. He knows people's eyes when they show fear or anger. When they show emotion. According to him, there was nothing interesting in the eyes of these women.

Until you came out from behind the curtain, walking calmly ahead. In an elegant black dress.

Your face showed a certain coldness, but warm at the same time. Your eyes were so mysterious.

White hair caught your attention, and you looked at him once.

And then, the mysterious darkness in your eyes made his heart beat faster.

Despite your emanating true model face, coupled with a nice façade, he felt your beauty was deadly. And he liked it very much. Mysterious danger.

A beautiful cat that can scratch her claws at any time. Even to death.

His eyes sparkled behind his glasses as he felt a little blush appear on his cheeks.

It was the first time he fell in love with someone at first sight.

No... It was the first time he truly fell in love. And he didn't want to lose this chance.

That's why he memorized as many details of your face as possible to catch you at the party after the fashion show. Because he sincerely hoped you'd be there.

Even if this party here may be bloody and trashed tonight.

But the moment everyone heard a few shots and one man fell to the floor lifeless, Gojo knew that this was no time for love or fun for him.

After all, he came here to get rid of enemies in an easy way.

And the orders to anyone who came with him said only: "If you see someone from Q, shoot without hesitation. They're definitely here."

All the people panicked and started to run.

And then each of them took out a gun and started shooting at the enemies.

When the white-haired man saw that you were standing behind the curtain on the stage, without a moment's thought he ran ahead, jumped on the platform and pulled you on his shoulder, to sit behind a meter high and shoot to protect you. His goal in sight has already killed three opponents today.

"What're you-?!" You screamed as you pulled away from him.

You already had a plan to approach one of the Q's from behind and slit his throat!

And he interrupted you.

"Don't be afraid, you won't die." He said to you.

You couldn't see his eyes clearly through his glasses. But you know he's not a cop.

You are in the middle of a fight between mafias.

Arrows started raining in your direction and he then quickly pulled you in front of him, making you kneel in front of him, and he lowered your head to his chest as he bent down so they wouldn't shoot him.

As he knelt, leaning forward, you were underneath his body. That's how he protected you.

You don't know why he did it. But you guess there's a deeper meaning to it.

It was the first time anyone protected you. It was nice of him. Because that man didn't even know you. You only looked at each other once during the show. Few minutes ago!

When there were fewer shots in your direction, you crawled out from under his chest, heading around the narrow stage.

And you, too, reached into your thigh and pulled out a folding knife.

Ignoring the screams of the white-haired man behind you and the shots, you kept walking. Until you finally saw a man with a "Q" tattoo on his neck.

You literally felt the knife sharpening in your hand and you quickly walked over to him without making a sound and smashed the knife into his neck. And then to the side of the head.

You quickly pulled away and sheathed the knife to check for blood. Fortunately not.

You were pulled to your feet by the same man who tried to save you right after all the shots had stopped.

You looked at his face without glasses.

You noticed the beauty and unique vigor of the eyes.

You heard another shot.

You looked to the side to see a dark haired man firing a gun at a man who was sitting with his back against the stage to make sure he was dead. With his head on the side. Because of this, no one could see the hole in his temple and neck, which is why he died.

"That's everyone. None of them managed to escape." He said, addressing the white-haired man. "What about her? Shoot? You don't have glasses."

He pointed the barrel of the gun at you.

You'd love to fight. If only that guy's hands weren't on your shoulders.

"She saw my face, huh... It's okay. We're taking her with us." He said with a smile.

"What?!" you shouted pissed off.

"Baby, you couldn't see my face. It's not against the rules of my Mafia. No one except those closest to me has seen my face or knows my real name. According to the rules, I should kill you or lock you up so you don't tell anyone. However, killing you would be a great loss. You're so beautiful and you got me curious... I don't want to kill someone I fell in love with."

"...Hold on!" You screamed as you pushed him, but he only held you tighter.

"Come on. I just have to admit there's something mysterious about your eyes. What you show on stage is not the real you, is it?"

"Fuck off!"

"Aw, honey..." he mumbled sadly.

He started to drag you by the wrist to the car. And even though you kept leaning against you, when the other man helped him to immobilize your arms, you were put in the car and he got in right behind you. The door was closed.

You noticed the black window in front of you, separating you from the driver.

That's good. Maybe you can kill him.

When he looked away for a moment, you put your hand under your dress, pulling your knife from the belt on your thigh, and suddenly jumped into his lap, putting the blade to his throat.

"Hey, baby, this is how you repay me for helping me? Understand that these are the rules we have." He said with a smile, hands raised in front of you.

"I could handle myself." You growled.

"Such a dangerous, beautiful woman. What part is the real you?"

"Who are you?! Someone from Q?!"

"Slow down a bit. Actually, it's like I'm taking you, so I should be the one asking the questions. But okay. I'm Six Eyes. Mafia boss. And when it comes to Q, I'm their biggest adversary."

You wondered if you should trust him. He didn't seem threatening now. Also, there was no Q anywhere here.

Holding the knife to his throat, you hesitated for a moment on what to do.

This caused his hands to quickly pull you down to the seat. His both hands held your wrists while his hips touched your ass as you lay on your stomach.

"If I was from Q, I'd rather kill myself than be there. And besides, everyone from Q would pay no attention to anything. They would just tie you up, rape you, kill you, and then dump your body in a ditch. Did I do that?"

"If you tried, I'd castrate you." You growled.

"Dangerous. I like it. However..." he let go of your wrists and sat in his place, giving you space. "I don't know if you could do something for me. I must admit your ferocity and hostility is strong. But let's say I'm the Mafia boss and you're the model."

"Do not underestimate me..."

"So tell me, (y/n) (l/n), why shouldn't I underestimate you? Tell me something about you. Because you are famous, but your biography is not known by anyone."

You were locked up in the large villa that was his home for several days. Why? Because he didn't want to lock you up in your old garages. He didn't want you gagged and bound while you sat there for who knows how long.

Your relationship was closer because you liked him. However, there was still some tension between the two of you.

Him, the annoying, selfish asshole and egotist who spoke to you the way he wanted to, and always came in when you least expected it.

He was able to come to you in the bathroom while you were taking a bath.

And he joined you.

That's why things became intimate between the two of you quickly, even though you weren't even a couple. You could just be considered friends now.

And you both liked the relationship you already had.

Nothing changed for the next two weeks.

It doesn't matter how many times you hit him with a pan until he finally let you go.

Of course he didn't because he acted like a child after being hit on the head with a pan. He pretended to cry.

You took good care of him and checked him for any head injury. Everything was fine. So you didn't have to worry.

And then he wouldn't let you get out of bed, wanting to make you feel guilty for doing it.

He was lying on your stomach, making you rub and stroke his head because it hurt. And it was your fault.

You apologized to him, and what else were you supposed to do?

It was your revenge for him locking you in here. And for skipping one of the most important performances where you were supposed to show clothes on stage. However, you couldn't complain, because as compensation for your lost money, you received from him a wardrobe worth half a year of your work. Or even more.

If only he was still good at sex, then you wouldn't complain so much. Because your partners were terrible. It's as if they couldn't do anything.

Besides, you've also been given a luxurious house that you have to live with him anyway.

"Come on. I already apologized to you..." you said, running your fingers through his white hair.

"But it hurt..." he said, pretending to cry.

"You don't even have a trace of it. There isn't even a bump on your head."

"But it still hurt...

"You've probably watched the ball through your opponents more than once, right?"

"Not at all..."

"You're in the mafia, Satoru..."

So yes, he told you his real name with the idea that you can't leave him and leave his house anyway. So your names were used by you on a daily basis.

"I've been in the mafia since my mother gave birth to me. I took it from my father... Besides, nobody ever shot me. Because I shot faster and more accurately than they did. When I was 15 I killed a spy who was looking for our weak point in our defense." He laughed, purring as your fingers swirled in his hair.

"So you had a bloody childhood too?"

"I doubt you shot anyone when you were a teenager." He laughed. "How old are you anyway?"

"I'm 23." You replied.

"Same as me! You see? We are made for each other!" He stood up suddenly, looking at you with sparkles in his eyes.

"Apparently you have a headache." You laughed as you saw him quickly lay down on top of you again. "Come on. Come, let me stroke you a little more."

"Which means you had a bloody childhood?"

"Do you really want to know? Don't you prefer that I leave my mysterious eyes?"

"You're smart and cold, or so you think. At fashion shows and commercials, you change it to a mysterious and sensual façade. However, you can care for someone else."

"I hit you with a pan. Is this supposed to be taking care of someone?"

He laughed slightly.

"It was different. Because I don't forbid you to be aggressive. I understand that you hate me. But now you're stroking and hugging me. You wash me while I wash you. We are not such enemies. Can you say we're lovers?"

"I don't know. But when I was 16, I also did something that probably no other model has ever done." You laughed.

He looked at you for a moment, analyzing what you said.

And 7 years ago, almost 10 people were murdered. And from that moment on, the murders of everyone in the Q group and family began. Starting with some of the closest ones from the family of the boss himself.

And these murders continue to this day. The murderer is impossible to catch because no one knows who he is. The gender of this person is unknown. No one knows what his goals are in these murders.

"This knife... You..." He looked at you questioningly.

"I have a knife scar under my hair. And the blood stains are washing off the skin." You said softly. "You can beat me if you know the truth now. If you think I'll be in the way or I shouldn't kill people like them. But remember that if you try, I will try to protect myself."

"You know it doesn't matter to me We may even be partners in crime. Because this is the woman I fell in love with at first sight." He hugged you, holding you tight.

Your actions for revenge are not ridiculed by him. On the contrary. He supports it.

And he promises that everyone from Q will die.

Because he fell in love with mysterious dark eyes. Eyes that from the beginning hid something murderous. So beautiful.

Just like all of you.

Your relationship was like lovers and enemies at the same time.

Or was it more like partners in crime now?

Dark lovers who don't care about the lives of their enemies. You has a mafia boss, the famous Six Eyes, wrapped around your little finger.

You guided him. His heart.

Such a powerful man was so small and sweet to you. So submissive.

That's why you could give that big little boy what he wanted.

You were still riding his cock until you were out of breath that night.

Or rather, his breath.

When you wonder if he's good at sex, you thought he was going to be average.

However, it is different.

He has a big nice dick.

It really stretches you out. It goes so deep. It hits all the best places.

You could barely feel the thin condom against his thick length as your pussy slid over him, lovingly inviting him into your tight warmth every time you lowered your hips.

His arms were bound with the string you found. It felt so good in his muscles.

He couldn't move while you scratched his arms and bit his neck.

You were riding him, making him moan. His hips pushed upward to meet your warmth. Your hand on the back was catching his balls and you were squeezing the skin in your palm. You pinched his thighs. You ran your hands over his lower abdomen, running your fingers along the veins running down his pubic bone.

Your fingernails ran over his chest, occasionally grazing his nipples.

While riding him, you massaged your clitoris to make you come faster. And you smiled as you watched as his head was thrown back as he red-faced moaned at the feeling of your pussy sucking him. His chest heaved rapidly.

His cock twitched inside you.

And then you pulled it out of you, leaving it out in the air. Only with a thin condom on it.

He moaned as your fingers tightened on the base of him, not allowing him to come.

It was his first ruined orgasm you gave him.

And you think he was always driving during sex. He was downstairs now, but he didn't protest. This guy just needed someone to dominate him the right way.

Very slowly and unbearably, you took the condom off him as the precum began to form a transparent puddle in the sperm reservoir.

Leaning down to his red cock, you kissed his head, listening as he moaned, his hips jumping as he felt a sudden touch against a sensitive part of his body.

He was so red and sensitive from a ruined orgasm. It was so cute.

You sat on his hips, and rubbed your pussy against his length, pressing his shaft against his muscular belly.

At the same time, you pulled his face down to your chest, doing something he always did when he saw you shirtless. You put his head in your breasts and he immediately started sucking on your nipples. Feeling the softness of your skin.

Soon after, he started moaning again and you stopped touching his cock again. If he wasn't tied up now, he would grab the length of it and start stroking himself to feel relieved. But alas, his hands were tied. There was nothing he could do and he was at your mercy.

You pressed your fingers against it again. Ensuring not one drop of his cum will come out of his tip. He couldn't come yet.

You want to see him throw his head back and moan when he wants to cum so much.

You sat on his cock when he didn't have a condom on, and he hissed through his teeth at the hot and tight feeling when he had nothing to separate your insides from his sensitive skin.

You grabbed the second condom and ripped open the wrapper. Only then did you get off of him, watching his wet tip drool.

You put the rubber all the way down his length, and then you sat on him again.

Warming his cock until his eyes were glassy and hazy and his face was so red.

As he threw his head back and his shoulders and hips trembled, wanting to start thrusting into you to come, you gave him some mercy.

You started jumping on top of him, smiling as you watched his heavy breathing and closed eyes.

The mighty mafia boss began to moan beneath you. And his ragged moans coupled with light sobs were the cause of his intense orgasm which was a combination of the three he was about to get. His thighs trembled as he came filling the condom inside you, the heat from his fluids pushing his sensitivity to the limit.

As you pulled him out of you, his cock fell soft against his stomach. You took the filled condom off him and tied it, putting the sticky rubber on his abs.

You lay down next to him, untying his hands, letting him pull your body against his.

Your nights together made him unable to resist you. So when you wanted to go back to your dream job, he had to agree.

Two people followed you across the city.

Even if he trusted you not to tell anyone.

He had your secret and you had his.

Little cameras in people's suits let him see what you were doing.

Well, he knew what you would do with those two.

Besides, he didn't feel sorry for them. They were two deserters who ran away from Q to join his mafia.

And he promised you that everyone who is or even was with Q will die.

That's why when he suddenly saw a pool of blood on the other side, he wasn't surprised and didn't even feel sorry for the two people.

Then he saw your face as you held the camera in one hand and your knife in the other.

"Not nice, Six Eyes ~. I don't like being followed. And we'll keep your punishment for that for later, Okay?"

When you said that, he felt a pleasant shiver that passed over his spine. And he couldn't wait for you to come home.

You were his dark queen.

His dark, beautiful queen will have her beautiful vengeance.

Because you will get everything.

Every year, on your birthday, he would take you to one place where the dirty work of killing was often done.

As a surprise, you got one or two high-ranking Q people.

Because his beautiful queen will always get what she wants.

So if you want revenge, you'll get it. In the best way for you.

You are his killer beauty. His deadly love.

[drefear]

Hail to the King

Chapter 5: Distractions

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs. 

TW: mentions of smut, reader is a lot ruder now, Miguel's still kinda annoying, stalking, lying.

A/N: This chapter is not very horny, I know, but it’s a lot of story for the plot, so bare with me (there’s a little bit of sexy in the next part tho so don’t worry)

The days at Gwen’s were peaceful and calming, having someone around to help you mentally sort through your mess. She was sweet and honest about everything, and you couldn’t help but love having a friend through all of this insanity. 

Lyla visited the second day and brought some sort of news, although you weren’t so sure if it was good or bad. 

“So there was a man coming to my fire escape?” You cleared up and Lyla nodded, big sunglasses on the top of her head now. Her eyes glanced between you and Gwen before she spoke again. 

“I had facial recognition software identify him, and he seems to be a part of another mob in Nueva York.” She opened her laptop and activated the holographic spectating, using a special glove that only covered three of her fingers and poking at the holograms. Expanding to one area, she showed you his face closer. Your eyes scanned something before your eyes widened. “Stop.” You touched her shoulder, “That… that was Eddie’s best friend, he was at our wedding.” You mumbled, thinking to yourself about the guest list you’d worked so hard on. The two women stared at you as you pulled out your phone and scrolled through many photos, landing on one and zooming in. You were right. In the far left corner, smiling, was that man. 

“What was his name?” Gwen asked, and you and Lyla both answered at the same time. 

“William Baker.” The two of you looked at each other and you just sighed. 

“Listen, I know you’re not going to want to hear this, but you need to stay somewhere else for a few days.” Lyla continued and Gwen just nodded along, but you slumped your shoulders. 

“I can’t keep staying here, what if they find me here? I’d be putting Gwen in danger.” You frantically looked between Lyla and Gwen, and Lyla bit her lip. 

“Stay with one of the guys. Hoobie used to let me stay over all the time-” Gwen spoke, but your brows furrowed. 

“How do you know Hobie?” You asked and Gwen’s eyes snapped to yours, then to Lyla’s. Something was wrong again, you could feel it. You repeated your question, this time much more firm. “Gwen. How do you know Hobie?” 

“He’s… he would come into the restaurant sometimes, he’s a lot closer to Miles than he is with me-” She smiled, but you weren’t buying it. They were all keeping something from you. 

“He was closer to Miles, but he used to let you sleep over?” You clarified, and she scratched her head. 

“Yeah, well, it was only once or twice, I was just exaggerating.” 

“Uh-huh.” You stared her down before hearing your cell phone ring, MIguel’s name popping up as you shot her a warning glance once more. “I’m going to answer him, and then you’re going to tell me what you’re hiding.” A look of relief crossed Gwen’s face before you stood up and moved to go talk in the kitchen. “Yes?” You answered, now annoyed. 

“Has Lyla filled you in yet?” He spoke with finality. 

“Yeah, and I know him. He was friends with Eddie, and he was at my wedding, so I guess you were right about the outside help.” Your lips hated how the conversation tasted as you admitted he was right. 

“Miggy, come back to bed.” A feminine voice spoke from Miguel’s end of the phone and you just scrunched your eyes together. 

“I’m busy.” He answered, and you could hear the irritation in how he spoke. 

“You sound like you’ve had a good morning so far.” You shot at him and he groaned. 

“Not in the slightest. These women are too clingy, I can’t stand it.” He explained in frustration and you could hear a door slam shut. 

“Well, as much as I’d love to discuss your personal problems, I have other issues to ask about.” “Shoot.” 

“What is Gwen hiding from me?” You asked and his side fell quiet, something you weren’t used to. He always had some sarcastic one liners to shut you up, or shut you down with. His silence usually meant that the truth was bad. 

“In this line of business, if you’re not being told something, it’s almost always for your own good. Try not to meddle too deep, or you might not like what you find.” 

“Don’t try to say some hero shit, I want the truth if I can’t even sleep in my own bed.” You demanded and he just sighed. 

“Fine. Come to my apartment in two hours.” He concluded and hung up, leaving you without a solid answer once more. The bastard. 

Time felt like it was moving slower than normal as you got ready, Lyla sitting on Gwen’s bed as you got dressed.

“I feel like Miguel just needs a woman to put him in his place, ya know?” Lyla rambled on about how your boss was just a big softie with female problems, but you weren’t buying it. 

“He needs to see a therapist for his sex addiction, actually.” You answered, which made Lyla laugh as Gwen sat quietly. She’d looked guilty ever since you’d come back from your phone call with Miguel. Who could blame her? She was lying about your safety, hiding crucial information from you while you were staying under her roof. It felt awful. 

“Maybe he’s lonely?” Gwen chimed in, making both you and Lyla answer at the same time once more. 

“Definitely not.” The synchronization made you all laugh. Gwen was a wonderful friend, that was for sure, but Lyla was a whole other level of bonding. It was as if she was programmed to be your best friend, and she was doing an incredible job. 

The three of you gabbed on for a while until a car arrived in the lobby of Gwen’s apartment building to take you to see Miguel. 

Your feet felt like lead as you begrudgingly walked into the elevator and hit the button for the penthouse. A buzz rang through the wall of the elevator and a feminine voice answered. “Can I help you?” 

“Lyla.” You spoke and there was a laugh. 

“Yeah, I know! I just thought it’d be funny.” A ding sound indicated that she had let you bypass the security system for his apartment and the elevator moved. You leaned your head to the back of the elevator and sighed, closing your eyes. The exhaustion of the past few days had finally hit you like a ton of bricks, made your body want to bend over and curl into a ball. You wanted a nap. 

The doors opened again and your eyes darted around in surprise. You’d known Miguel was rich and organized, but his apartment was something you saw in a magazine. Nothing could have prepared you for how his personal space might look. 

He walked down a flight of stairs towards where you stood in the center of his living room, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. You wondered if this man only owned suits and sweats. 

“You’re late.” 

“Nice to see you, too.” You answered his blunt rudeness as he gestured for you to sit on his couch. “Ok, answers.” You stated and he rolled his eyes, grabbing two bottles of water and handing you one. 

“Let’s start with the most important part. Your ex has been working with Kingpin, my biggest rival and one of the worst mobs in the city. He directly works with sex trades and child labor.” He sat next to you and leaned back into the soft cushions, as if he was just speaking about his day. You immediately hated this Kingpin guy. “We’ve found that your ex has been intertwined with Kingpin for a very long time, and even has some pull with Kingpin. His title among Kingpin is Venom, and he specializes in making people disappear.” 

“Disappear?” You asked, as if you didn’t know the answer already, and Miguel brought his hands up to make air quotes, confirming your assumption. 

“This is more of a newer specialty of his, in the last year. How long has it been since you two were living together?” You clear your throat, fear catching onto your tongue and making it feel heavy. “A-About a year. We were separated for a bit and I’d come home on and off, or he’d leave for long periods of time.” You touched your throat, imagining what he could have been doing while he was gone. “Was I- Did I marry a murderer?” Miguel just stared down towards the floor, expression unreadable and almost stoic except for the small crinkle between his eyebrows. 

“You’re surrounded by murderers, technically.” He answered and your breath caught in your throat, but he continued, “Something you should remember is that everyone has the ability to be a killer, and many people use that ability, but few people use that ability for the good of the world.” He spoke softly and you nodded, a chill creeping up the back of your neck. 

“Where do you fall?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and he leaned forward onto his elbows, bowing his head. 

“I like to think everything I do is for the better of everyone, even if I go down in the process.” The gravel of his voice makes you feel warm and a flame sparks in your stomach, a new feeling. You scoot closer to him and continue to listen. “Those I train, or who work for me, they don’t just join for fame or notoriety. A lot of them were wronged by life, innocent until they were forced to learn how to see in the dark. That includes Gwen.” His eyes flash to you and it’s as if they turn you to stone, not being able to move on your own accord. “And that now includes you.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” “Then you can turn around and try to survive blindly. You can pretend nothing ever happened, and hope that it doesn’t follow you around for the rest of your life.” He stares into your eyes harder, more serious, and you begin to wonder when he got so close. “But that hope doesn’t usually last long.” 

Silence drips down the length of the walls as you two sit, inches from one another, smelling his breath and feeling the heat of his body so close to yours. As you're both about to collide, a loud ding sounds around the apartment and you jump backwards from the sudden interruption. Miguel barely even reacts, a deep frown on his features now as he turns to the elevator. 

“Hey!” A friendly voice echoes off of the walls and footsteps follow as you turn to see Peter walking towards you both. He stops at the sight of Miguel’s angry face and flashes a look between the two of you. “Am I bothering you?” 

“The answer is always yes, Peter.” Miguel stands and makes his way towards the other. 

“Jeez, I was just here to pick up the tech and lists for the event, but if I’m such a bother-” 

“Shut up and take it.” The larger of the two demands and you stand up, finally getting your bearings and coming to your senses. Your mind thought about Miguel saying those words to you in a very different scenario, but you quickly snapped out of it. He was your boss. Your whorish, annoying, rude boss with a taste for organized crime. 

That’s going to be a hard no. 

Standing up, you looked away and waited for him to be done. Peter’s eyes found your form and he launched over to you in a hurry. “How are you? It’s been so long, Miles says he misses you all the time, always making jokes you’d laugh at.” He rambles and you nod, smiling wide at the thought of being around Peter and Miles again. Miguel stands behind Peter, scowling at his distracted nature and folding his arms angrily. 

“I miss you all too.” You concluded. 

God, did you want to escape already. 

Peter finally left after going on and on about his daughter for around 10 minutes, to which Miguel finally snapped and started yelling in spanish. You just stood there and watched the interaction as they bickered and Miguel forced Peter out. He sighed once the elevator doors closed and leaned on the wall for a moment. As he stood there, almost statuesque, you took in his size and it finally hit you. How large he is. You bit your lip and thought about the seconds before Peter walked in unannounced. 

What would have happened if he didn’t break you two out of that seductive trance? Your cheeks began to heat up and you turned to look out the window. 

“Are you prepared for the gala?” His voice broke you from your trance, and you nodded, not meeting his eyes as he spoke. This seemed to irritate him. “You picked a dress? I want to see it.” He announced, and you finally looked up, now giving him a dirty look. “I don’t trust your sense of style.” 

“Too bad. Beggars can’t be choosers.” You hissed and he stalked to you in a few steps, showing his size from how few strides he had to take to walk across his wide apartment to meet you. 

His head bent down to give you a dark look. “I never beg.” He stated as a fact and you felt a shiver move through your spine. Shaking your head, you still refused. “You’re making me go, I’m picking the dress.” This seemed to be a battle of wills and neither of you were breaking. “Is that all?” You asked and placed your hands on your hips, attitude obvious in the snark of your words. He clicked his tongue. 

“That’s all, for now, but I might need to teach you manners soon if you keep this spoiled brat act up.” His words made your eyes go wide with anger. 

“Spoiled brat?” You barked and he smirked, enjoying getting a rise out of you. “Now, get out. I have someone coming soon, since my morning release didn’t work out.” He turned his back to you once more, and you admired how broad his shoulders were, how his back muscles rippled and shifted. He exuded power, and you’d be damned if you let him get the best of you. 

The words Gwen said echoed in your head. ‘Maybe he’s just lonely.’ 

“Maybe your morning release would be more satisfying if you didn’t get head at random times of day.” When he didn’t react, you continued, not fully understanding where this annoyance about his sex life was coming from anymore. “Maybe you’re just lonely.” The words came out before you could stop them and he finally turned back to face you, an incredulous look on his face from your audacity. “Either way, I don’t want to lay witness to whatever stupid married woman you convince to jerk you off with tweezers.” You stomped towards the elevator and pouted for a second before his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. 

“Hijo de su-” You could barely hear the rest of whatever he said as he yanked your body towards him. He glowered down at your shocked face as he picked up his phone and listened to it ring. 

“Yo.” Lyla answered and Miguel stared down into your eyes. “Cancel the girl. There’s something I need to fix right now.”

Chapter 4

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[alphabetboyluvr]

something borrowed | jjk

VIBES | first loves, a lil angst, a lil... infidelity (don't scream at me!!), no smut (a little teeny lips to kitty moment but no actual smut) jungkook's nose be doing things (smelling <3) cause when is it not?, mafia au

SOUNDTRACK | moth to a flame - swedish house mafia, the weekend ; mirage - elina

HOLLY'S NOTE | (originally posted april 2023) was in a tiktok hell hole of moth to a flame edits, and this is the product of it loool. posted on wp first!!

WORD COUNT |  2.8k

GLOSSARY OF TERMS | all relating to korean gangs 

Gyeongsang - the ancient name for what is now known as the Yeongnam district of Korea. It includes Daegu, Busan, Ulsan, and both Gyeongsang Provinces. It's essentially the South-East of the country.

Honam - the district of Korea which includes Gwangju and both Jeolla provinces. Essentially, it's Yeongnam's counterpart - the South-West of the country.

Pa - the term for a 'mob' in Korean, often affixed to regions or identifiers of specific gangs

Jopok - a term for someone involved in a gang 

THEY SAY you never forget your first love; that it's some sort of earth-shattering, universe-bending, life-debilitating experience. You learn from it; how to behave, how to act, how to break a heart, and - sometimes - how to heal one, too.

They're a funny thing, first loves.

Virginities are given and taken in all aspects of life; sex, declarations of affection, scathing remarks in the midst of arguments.

Jeon Jungkook has all of your firsts, and you all of his.

It had been a too-hot summer, and you'd been rebelling.

Fresh-faced, and terribly bored of the confines put in place by your father, Jungkook had seemed like a safe bet. 

Jungkook had always been a rebel. You made no change to that.

You'd gone to Busan looking for trouble. Like father, like daughter. He usually went there to fuck with Gyeongsang-pa goonies who didn't know their left from their right; to remind them that what Honam-pa may lack in their underground history, they made up for in their sheer moxie.

You'd gone there to fuck with Gyeongsang-pa goonies, too, just in the literal sense. You were on the cusp of nineteen, and still being held prisoner to Honam-pa hierarchy, or so it felt.

An easy target was found in the form of a boy skimming rocks against a settled bay. Leather jacket and a face of thunder, Jeon Jungkook had wanted nothing to do with you. Heard the tone of your dialect and knew you were one of them.

"Ain't no place for Honam bitches," he'd told you. Had made you laugh.

"And who are you?" You'd replied, voice condescending, eyes innocent. "Too scrawny to be Jopok."

He had smirked. Shook his head. "Yeah, and you're too vapid to be asking questions like that in a city that ain't yours." The pebble he sent hurtling into the ocean skipped once, twice, three times before sinking. He turned to look at you. Sighed. Figured you were at least a little bit more interesting than pebbles. "What's your name, Honam?"

As you stand in front of a mirror, seven years since that summer, you know Jeon Jungkook will be getting all of your lasts, too.

You're smoothing down a dress; white, lace, and everything a girl dreams of.

Well, everything a girl who wants a traditional wedding with all the bells and whistles wants.

You've always considered yourself an elopement kind of girlie; last-minute charity shop dress for you, and second-hand tie for your groom, in a city worlds away from 'home'. That's what you would have liked.

But you're Honam's Princess. 

This was always gonna be the way.

You'd never expected yourself to have a Gyeongsang-pa groom, but sometimes life works out in funny ways.

"It's bad luck," you say quietly as Jungkook approaches the doorway. It's a little before noon. Nuptials are at two. You've sent away your ladies in waiting, favouring these final moments alone.

"To see the bride?" he questions. He's not even started getting ready yet. Still in a pair of sweats and an old shirt that you remember from that very first summer. You wonder if he's wearing it deliberately now; if it makes him feel like he's young again.

He'd been so fresh-faced back then. His broad back hadn't yet been tarnished by a dragon, and his eyes had seen far less violence. His hands, too.

You nod. "Remember? I told you. You shouldn't see the bride on the morning of the ceremony."

Jungkook just shrugs. Pushes the door to, and walks further into the room to stand behind you. It's warm, but his presence gives you chills. It shouldn't do. Not when you know him as intimately as you do.

His fingers reach up to toy at the vintage clasp of your necklace. He asks, "Something old?"

You're silent as you study him in the mirror. He's not aged a day. Not really. Not in his eyes. The scar on his cheek looks a little deeper from his face filling out, and he wears his hair differently - he doesn't subscribe to the Gyeongsang-pa standard of short sides, long top anymore - but his eyes are just the same.

"Something old," you nod.

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, and lets the very tips of his fingers trail down your spine, until they reach the fabric of your dress.

"Your Grandmothers," he says. "I remember it."

You don't hide your surprise.

"What?" he smirks, when he notices the tiny little hum of confusion you do. "Was that first summer. You left it in my car once. Was karma for you chatting shit about your sister inheriting the opal ring."

"It was too small for her fingers!" you immediately protest, still standing by the fact it would have been cherished by you - though you do have an opal ring, now. 

It normally sits snug on your fourth finger, awaiting a dainty silver band to keep it company, but it's off today. Symbolic. Your wedding band is to be threaded on first, held in place by your opal forevermore.

"The necklace suits you," he offers. 

Thinks it really does; a small silver chain, links twisted with a single teardrop pearl resting on your chest. It goes back generations. Is a status symbol. Losing it in Jungkook's car had left you terrified for you both, no matter who would have found it - Gyeongsang-pa goonies or Honam-Pa. Would have been fucked either way. Fraternizing with the enemy was one thing - but fucking them?

Your father would have had Jungkook's head on a butcher's block within an hour of finding out.

Funny, how things change.

He strides over to the dresser, where a white shoe box sits open. Tissue paper sprouts from the packaging, and nestled inside are a pair of heels that he thinks are befitting of you. They're white, to match your dress, with ornate silver leaves trailing up and around the heels. You'll be a good few inches taller with them on, but he'd still dwarf you if he were to stand across from you.

A little taller than he was that very first summer, Jungkook is far more confident, too. Not in a brash, false bravado kind of way, but in such a way that he's learned his worth. Knows where he is in the pecking order. Works so much harder than you ever will, and yet will never be of equal status. Not in Honam Pa, not in Gyeongsang-Pa.

He sits on the chair beside the mirror and holds a shoe in each palm. His legs are spread, smile arrogant, as he taps the shoes together.

"Something new?"

"Careful," you say, not looking at him, tweaking a little bit of your hair back. "Yes. Something new."

He raises one of shoes, and nods to where the skirt of your dress pools on the floor. "May I?"

"Shouldn't even see-"

"See the bride, yeah, yeah, I know," he says softly. "Next time I see you, you're gonna be one of us. Let me at least spend a little time with you while you're still Honam."

"You've always hated that I'm Honam," you remind him.

He doesn't deny it.

"Just let me help you get ready for your party," he says, stern but gentle. He's always been like that with you.

He calls it a party, because he refuses to call it a wedding. Wedding is too romantic. Too foreboding.

You don't want to smile. He's so abrasive at times, so frustrating. You wonder how you ended up here; eyes full of adoration as you nod. "Alright then, Prince Charming."

You lift your leg just a little bit, but Jungkook knows your body, so doesn't give it a second thought as he reaches down to leverage it up. He strokes at your ankle, the heel of your foot, the arch. Smiles to himself when you shudder a little when his fingers ghost across the tiny ticklish section.

"Don't," you smile. "I'll fall."

He just shrugs. "I'll catch you."

That's the thing about Jungkook; he always does. Trusty, dependable, reliable. 

Sure, maybe occasionally he would be the one to tie your laces, but he would always catch you.

You've no laces on now. Any falling? All of your own doing.

Jungkook doesn't let the sentiment linger. Asks, "Something blue?"

You look down at him as he slides the second shoe onto your other foot, and wonder if showing him really will be pushing your luck - but hey.

He's already seen the bride.

What harm would it do if he sees a little more?

He holds on to your ankle for longer than he really should. Strokes his thumb across the top of your foot. Smiles. You press the pad of your now-heeled foot into the tiny space between his spread legs, keeping it elevated, and give him a look that grants him permission to explore.

Both of his hands stroke up your raised leg, smooth and silky, the fabric of your dress moving to reveal what's hidden beneath. He reaches your knee. Leans forward a little. Presses those lips you know so well against your skin. Keeps stroking upwards, hands spreading across your thighs before reaching a roadblock. Chiffon and lace intertwined, a baby blue garter is hooked around your leg.

Jungkook's lips trail from the top of your knee to just shy of the material that stopped him from venturing further.

"Something blue," you whisper.

He nods. Lets his nose rest against it. You've sprayed it with your perfume. He fucking loves your perfume. You've been wearing the same one since he met you, and it always gets him a little heated at times he shouldn't be. 

Isn't his fault though. He thinks you conditioned him. 

And yeah, maybe you had sprayed it in his car vents on more than one occasion, and maybe you had deliberately layered a pheromone-infused oil beneath it that entire first summer. Not your fault he happened to like it a little too much. Not his fault the scent always takes him back to those stolen moments with you.

Jungkook's teeth sink into the material. Draw it back. Let it ping against your skin.

"Kook," you whisper, as if your hands aren't in his hair.

His hands push further up your legs. Both of them, now. They reveal the lacey white underwear you purchased especially for the big event. It's a matching set.

"Thank God it's not a Church wedding," he husks, a sigh exhaling. His breath tantalisingly chills your now-wet folds. So inconvenient. "You'd burn the second you stepped inside."

Jungkook's lips trail further. Leave little evidence. He's learned how to do that over the years. Has left no traces of himself, well, ever.

There's hustle and bustle in the garden out of the rear window. A traditional-style wooden screen preserves your dignity; hides your Gyeongsang-pa goonie from sight.

The venue wasn't your choice. It's Gyeongsang territory, for a start. Your father had said it would be good. Would help with the treaty. Very little about your 'party' has been planned by you. Like most of your life, your father has an iron vice on proceedings.

Your underwear was the one thing you had total control over. Had even considered wearing none at all, as a bit of a 'fuck you'.

Jungkook pauses. Takes in the sight of you. Grips the flesh of your upper thighs. Curses to himself. 

It feels like he's staring at your lace-covered cunt for an eternity before his lips finally press against it. Your grip in his hair tightens.

You'll need to change your underwear before you walk down the aisle. That's fine. This underwear was never intended for anything other than this, regardless.

Because while yes, the groom shouldn't see the bride ahead of the ceremony, it's not like that matters here. Jungkook was always going to see you before the wedding.

His lips are slow as he withdraws, and simply says, "Something borrowed."

The implication is heavy; heart-stopping. Cataclysmic.

"By you?" You whisper, as his deep dark eyes meet yours.

He looks so pretty in defeat. It pains you - but you both know this is the least painful outcome for you both.

Jungkook shakes his head. Let your dress gather by the floor. Smooths it over. Reclines into his chair.

"By Min fuckin' Yoongi."

Neither of you speak for a moment. Hearing his name, especially uttered from Jungkook's lips, makes your blood run cold. For so long, you've avoided the topic.

It's impossible, now.

See, it doesn't matter if Jungkook sees you before the ceremony.

He's not your groom.

Yoongi is.

He's your counterpart; the son of the Gyeongsang-pa King. A marriage born out of a sacred treaty between the gangs; the promise that together they'll obliterate Sudogwon's unruly mobs that have been making their way south in recent years.

"It's not too late," Jungkook whispers.

But it is, and you both know it. You've come too far to back out now.

Negotiations have been made. Peace treaties signed. Deals across clans finalised.

You're Honam's Princess, but one day you'll be Gyeongsang-pa's Queen.

Jungkook will only ever be a pauper chasing after the big boys.

So you'll say your vows and exchange your rings, and Jungkook won't object.

He'll sit quietly, like a good boy should, and watch you seal your fate.

Will watch Min Yoongi slide a wedding band onto your ring finger.

Will smile to himself when notices your engagement ring holding it in place a few months from now.

Will remind himself of the old tales that go hand in hand with opal engagement rings. If the legends are anything to go by, you'll be a widow within four years. He can wait that long. Has waited far longer, already.

And if, by four years, his time still hasn't come?

Kings can be overthrown. Jungkook is as Jopok as they come. He'll fight dirty.

For you?

He thinks he'll fight to the death.

"You're too good for Gyeongsang," he tells you, neck stretched, the crown of his head resting between his shoulder blades. You're scratching at his hair, looking at him.

With a smile, you shrug. "I'll still be Honam. For you, I'll be Honam."

Jungkook nods. Closes his eyes. Leans into your touch.

"My Honam girl," he says quietly, and it makes you wish that you had just run away with him that very first summer. You'd suggested it after you first thought you had lost your necklace. Thought it would be the only way to keep one another safe - until Jungkook found it between the seats.

You'd thanked the God that you don't believe in at the time. Clutched the necklace over your heart, head tipped to the heavens, all while Jungkook looked only at you. Lucky, he'd said, unaware that it was the worst possible outcome for you both.

You should've run.

Should've fuckin' run.

"Go," you whisper, knowing it's too late for any of that now. "We've got a party to attend, and you can't show up in a pair of sweats."

He likes that you don't call it a wedding, either. Nods. Also knows he can't be caught sneaking from your room. There'd be hell to pay.

Jungkook gets to his feet. Kisses your cheek. Tell you how pretty you look. Slowly walks to the door, then turns to look at you one final time. Spares you from a final remark that could make you feel even worse about the situation.

"Kook?" You call, just because you can't bear to let him leave. Not yet. It's too soon.

He hums a response. Doesn't open the door just yet. Waits for you to speak.

"I wish we never met."

Jungkook looks at his feet. Smiles. Nods. 

"Me, too, babe."  And then, just because he needs it to be known, "I love you."

You don't turn to face him.

"I love you, too."

[ofstarsandvibranium]

To Have & To Hold: Part 7

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight (Mafia AU)

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: To ensure you’re always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don’t necessarily hate Marc, but you don’t get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

Series Masterlist

"The wedding is in five months, sir. The venue hasn't been chosen yet."

The older man, oozing authority, leaned forward in his seat, "And how is the bouquet for the lovely bride to be going?"

"It's almost ready sir."

"Perfect."

___________________

Marc woke up in a confused haze. He knew the bed he was in wasn't his. It was too soft.

He slowly sat up, looking around the room. Ah. He's at your place. He's trying to remember how he got here and then...Steven.

He's mentally cursing his alter for putting them in this position, but you didn't seem to bothered by it. He was a bit surprised you let him stay, but he supposes you and he really need to start getting used to this, sleeping around each other or just being with each other in general.

He slides out of bed and stretches himself out. He groans, not liking how stiff his body has been feeling lately.

He then walks out of your bedroom and peering around. He spots a lump on the couch and quietly approaches you. He softly smiles as you let out a snore.

He turns to the open laptop on the coffee table. You were looking at wedding dresses and venues.

At least your father was nice enough to let you pick your own dress and venue.

Marc shuts your laptop and pulls the blanket up more so you're warm.

We should make her breakfast, Steven suggests and Marc agrees. So while you were away in dream land, Marc got started on breakfast for you.

_________________

You're not sure what time it is when you wake up, but you smell remnants of something cooking.

You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you call out, "Marc?" you wait a few seconds, then, "Steven?" Nothing.

"Hm," you stand with a stretch and spot plates laid out on your island counter. The closer you got you see an array of breakfast foods and a note beside it.

Thanks for letting me stay. Made you breakfast. Hopefully it's not too cold when you wake up. Coffee is already made too.

Enjoy,

Marc

You sit at the counter and take a picture of the food, sending a text to Marc,

You: you didn't have to do this. but thanks!

Marc: Hope you like everything.

You: all very good!

Marc: Good. Also, did you want to look at wedding venues soon? I saw you were looking at some online.

You: If you have the time, that'd be great.

Marc: I'll make the time for you, sunshine.

Oh. Oh no. What's that feeling? You're-You're feeling giddy? You're smiling?! Oh jeez, yeah. This is a lot worse than you thought...

___________________

After doing some work things, you went over to your father's where he and Marc were in, what seemed, to be a serious conversation.

"...I interrupted something, didn't I?"

Your father sighs, leaning back into his chair, "Yes, but it's fine." You see the dark circles under this eyes and how uneasy he looks.

"What is it? What's going on?" your eyes dart to Marc and then your father, "Is there something I should know?"

"Yes."

"No."

Marc clenches his jaw and glares at your father. You can tell he's currently frustrated with him.

"We're handling it. That's all you need to know," your father says with a warning look to Marc.

"Okay..well..can I steal Marc for the rest of the day to look at wedding venues?"

"Sure, sunshine," he gives a small smile to you then a hard look at Marc, "Not a word."

"Fine," Marc says through gritted teeth and places his hand on the small of your back, leading you out of the office.

"So-"

"Can't talk about it."

"Oh come on!" you give a little pout as you and he make your way outside to your car.

"I still work under your father, so I gotta listen to what he says," he holds out his hand and you look at him confused.

"What?"

"Keys."

"I'm driving."

"No, you're not."

You snort, "Why not?"

"You're a crappy driver."

"I am no-hey!"

Marc grabs your purse, already digging in it for your keys. He holds them up with a jingle, grinning at you, "Beat ya to it." He's smirking as he opens the passenger side door for you and as you're getting in, you mutter to him, "Asshole."

He snorts, closing the door behind you and gets into the driver's side.

___________________

"Woah." Marc's brows are raised in awe as he looks at the garden before him.

"It's so beautiful," you say wistfully. You turn to Marc, "What do you think?"

"I mean, it's beautiful."

"But?"

He shrugs, "Does it really matter?"

You roll your eyes, "Marc, come on. We're both getting married. You have a say in this too."

"I just don't see myself getting married here," he responds with a shrug.

You nod, "Okay. We'll check another place out."

On the way to the next place, you're scrolling through your phone, mumbling to yourself, and writing some places down onto a notebook you keep on you.

Marc keeps glancing your way, as you're crossing places off your list of potential venues. He's chuckling to himself when you look up.

"What?"

"Nothing...you're cute when you're concentrated."

"Thanks," you mumble, feeling your cheeks warm up. You clear your throat and turn your body more towards him, "So I crossed off all the gardens on the list of potential venues-"

"You didn't have to do that."

You shrug, "Well, you didn't see yourself getting married in a garden so I crossed all of them out. Anyway, do you see yourself getting married outside at all?"

"Yeah, I can."

"Beach?"

"Nah. Sand is messy."

"What about your alters?" you ask curiously.

Marc's brows furrow, "What about 'em?"

"Do they have an opinion on where we get married?"

He shrugs, "They don't really care much. They're leaving it mostly up to you."

You nod, looking back at your list and crossing off some places off, "Okay. There's some places that have these temple structures. There's one with a man made lake too, that seems really pretty."

"We can check it out," he reaches over and places a hand on your thigh, "Whatever you want, sunshine." He glances to you, a small smile on his face and you're smiling back.

[marigolddove]

Love Begins With Murder, Believe it or Not.

Part One

This is a request from @yandere-dark-cupid, I'm sure you intended for this to be a one-shot...buuuuut I got super carried away because I L O V E mafia/mob AUs. They're my favorite all around and I just couldn't help myself, especially when you said you wanted a sweet civilian that's my jam. So, yeah this is part One for now, I'm thinking this is gonna end up being 3 parts minimum with how it's going and I will tag you in all 3, thanks for the request it was so much fun to plan and write and I hope you're happy with it!

Warnings: Blood and violence at the start, bit of torture and mentions of murder. Only at the very start though.

💀♥️💀

     If Wally Darling could only choose two qualities he hates most in this world he would choose dishonesty and disloyalty. Both of which this sorry bastard strapped to a chair in his office have. Wally didn't need to watch to know Barnaby was doing his job and doing it well, making this insignificant waste of air scream and wheeze through his gag. 

     He had more important things to focus on anyhow, like his craft for one. Having grown bored of reading recent reports and approving deals with neighboring rival groups, he turned to what he really loved most: art. 

     Sure now it was only a hobby compared to his full time job of running his family, but in his younger years it was his passion; his reason to get out of bed each morning and breathe. He's become weary and disappointed by his lack of motivation and inspiration as of late. There was a time when no one could pull him away from an easel or a sketch book for hours; but now, even with the tension and emotions bouncing around the room from this well deserved "lesson" he couldn't fully immerse himself in his work.

     At a particularly loud and strangled cry from the now ex-member of his family, Wally growled and scribbled through his current piece so violently the paper ripped; then tossed the sketchbook and pencil haphazardly onto his desk. He finally turned his attention to Barnaby and his victim.

     Barnaby, having heard his friend's frustration through the gasping breaths of some no-name newbie who crossed Eddie and Frank, immediately fixed his attention onto Wally.

     "Everything alright boss?" 

     "Just peachy." Wally sneered sarcastically, clasping his hands tightly together on his desk, "I believe I'm now tired of our session, you can take him and finish this up elsewhere, please? Oh, and on your way out get Julie for me." 

     Barnaby immediately unstrapped the man from the chair and threw his weak, limp body over his shoulder, "Sure thing boss, I won't take up more of your time; but I'll be around if ya' need me." He moved to grab the bloodied and soiled chair, but stopped when Wally waved dismissively.

     "No need for that, leave the chair and the mess, I'll have someone else clean that. Thank you Barnaby, be safe." Barnaby nodded and with that left the now slightly dank office. 

     Now alone for a moment, Wally leaned back into his leather seat and sighed, typically he wouldn't have these sessions in his office but this had been a…special occasion. A heat of the moment call if you will. 

     You see, that man had been new to the family, very new. He had yet to learn just how important family really is to Mr. Darling, but when he put the lives of Eddie and Frank into danger well…now he knew. All could have been forgiven had he shown a bit of sympathy and care for his new found family, but all he seemed to care about was his wallet. Selling personal information about individual members of the family to rival groups or reporters, one of those stories being about Eddie and Frank.

     Wally has never frowned upon interpersonal relationships, in fact he had encouraged it. Afterall, love is a beautiful and wonderful thing and he was so pleased it had been found in his friends. It was just such a shame that others didn't seem to share his sentiments on the matter.

     Running a hand through his hair, he attempted to correct any loose curled strands that fell into his face and onto his ears during his episode moments before, using any residual hair product still in his hair to hold them back in place. He began to straighten his posture and his desk at the sound of heel'd footsteps against the hardwood floors of the hall outside his door.

     Soon in walked Julie, dressed in a very fine magenta three-piece suit, a black criss-cross bow tie, classic black heels and her hair curled and pinned back to perfection; jewelry accenting her manicured hands. Wally felt a swell of pride and admiration towards Julie's sense of confidence and style.

     "Well, don't you look fierce today my friend." He started warmly at her entrance, she beamed at his compliment; only briefly glancing at the bloody mess at the center of his office before seemingly losing interest and turning her attention back to him. 

     "I woke up feeling fierce, so I just had to go all out today," she states as she moves to stand in front of his desk, hands on her hips, "so," she glances at the distressed art book still on his desk, "Barnaby said you needed to see me?"

     "Yes, I just sent him to take care of that…problem we were having, and it occured to me that the problem had a romantic partner. A young woman by the name of…" he examined a note he wrote for himself, "Ah, Allison Forester."

     A look of understanding flashed across Julie's face, "You need me to take care of her?" She was surprised when he shook his head.

     "No, no that won't be necessary. Our message will be clear soon enough, and there was never any evidence she was involved in his little scheme." His face turned a bit sour at the end before reverting back to neutral, "No, I want to send her flowers as an apology for his mess and for my rash actions." He sounded anything but apologetic, in fact he smiled just a tiny bit when calling his actions 'rash'. 

     "Oh, okay, sure thing sir. Any types of flowers in particular?" She knew Wally was very detail oriented and wanted to be sure he was giving her full creative liberties. 

     He waved dismissively, "No, just something pretty, that's all for now. You're dismissed, be safe." Turning his attention back to the art book, Julie knew he was now ignoring her; but she didn't take it to heart, he never meant anything by it, that's just how he was. Quick and to the point, and once the point was over he was done with it entirely.

—————————

     Julie closed the office door behind her as she strutted her way back out into the main area of the building, the building they're in used to be strictly an office building, but since it fell into Wally's hands it was almost like an art studio where business happened to be held. He had completely renovated the building, still keeping some of the office spaces (not all of them were used as such however) but also turning part of the building into his own private home and space. They had more official places of business elsewhere, this one was just for comfort, for him to be himself. 

     Only the closest of family members were allowed to work here, the most trusted and beloved; because Wally does love them, even with his business facade and too-cool-for-you appearance she never doubted his love for her and the others. How could she when they're family?

     Julie decided she wouldn't leave until she could say goodbye to Frank and Eddie, they were her two closest friends in and out of the organization, and she knew that the recent news of betrayal had hit Frank hardest. Behind their serious and uncaring demnor hid a very emotional individual only she and Eddie really got to see. 

     It didn't take very long to find them and when she did she nearly hesitated, they were having a moment together and seemed to be having a very serious conversation. Together they sat on a velvet bench in front of a few art pieces Wally had completed, their fingers were interlocked as they faced once another. It seemed so pure and intimate, she nearly turned to leave until Eddie spotted her out of the corner of his eyes and offered her a soft smile and silently waved her over.

     When she reached the two she immediately pulled them both into a tight hug, "I'm so sorry, everything's gonna be okay, Wally will take care of this. I know he will." The two hugged her back just as tight.

     "Thank you, Julie. We're grateful for the support." Said Eddie, his southern charm as endearing as ever. She felt Frank nod against her shoulder and sniff a little.

     She pulled back and with as big of a smile as she could manage, Frank made it a little hard though, her poor friend's face was tear stained and eyes a bit redder than normal. They'd definitely been crying, and looking at Eddie she found unshed tears locked in his eyes and his face more flushed than usual. Good riddance to that idiot, whatever his name had been.

     She'd never been the violent or hateful sort, usually charasmatic and subtle, but if Wally or Barnaby had refused to do something about that guy…well, she had no doubts she would have taken him herself.

     "So where does Wally have you going?" Eddie asks, changing subject, a knowing look in his eyes. He was a sharp character, so she didn't have to ask how he knew Wally had given her a task.

     "I'm glad you asked, he's asked me to pick up flowers for a lady, I wanted your advice on a good shop for it. He wants them pretty." Eddie raised a brow at her and she chuckled, "Not that kinda lady, I'm afraid. It's for the…uh, girlfriend of the scum bag." 

     "I'm surprised he's sending her anything but a death threat." Frank says. 

     "Yeah, well boss says she didn't have nothin' to do with what went down. She's just a civilian caught up in it." 

     Frank nods while Eddie gets this excited look in his eyes, "Oh! I know just the place, hold on," he shifts and reaches into his back pocket to pull out a nice leather wallet, he takes out a small business card and hands it to Julie, "This place is really good at making bouquets, one of the employees there is a real charmer. Name's Y/N, (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair. They're an artist when it comes to flowers, I swear." He said with a bright smile on his face, before turning a bit sheepish as the tips of his ears turned red, "I, uh, used to go there a lot back when I would get flowers for Frank." He admits.

     Frank practically has hearts in their eyes as they gaze lovingly at Eddie and his bashful face, Julie giggles at how cute they are together. They truly deserved the happiness they found in one another.

     "Well then, this is where I'll go then! How can I say no when you give such a sparkling review?" She teases, looking over the card and memorizing the address before tucking it into her pocket, "If I tell them your name will I get a discount?" She joked, but suddenly Eddie got a look of realization on his face.

     "Ya know what? You actually might! Y/N owes me a bit of a favor, so you just tell her Eddie Dear sent ya and I'm sure she'll do something for ya." Both Julie and Frank gave him a questioning look so he continued, "There was a big ol' spider in there the last time I went, poor thing was absolutely terrified, sitting on the counter and staring at it. So, I killed it for them and they gave me an IOU, they wanted to give me my flowers for the day free of charge, but I refused." He explained with a shrug and a sweet smile.

     "Flowers probably won't be too expensive and it's on Wally's dollar so I'm not really worried about it, but I'll still tell them you said 'hi'." 

     "Please do!" 

     Julie turned to leave, but not before giving one more tight hug to Frank, rubbing their back soothingly. They return the hug just as tightly.

     "Be safe, and come back soon…I think I wanna talk to you alone later. I have a lot on my mind." Frank whispers into her ear, although Eddie might've heard it. He didn't speak on it. 

     She pats their back, "Sure thing, bestie." 

     With that she ends the hug and waved as she leaves the room, leaving the two as they embrace one another and continue speaking 'I love you's in hushed tones.

—————————

     The flower shop is only 15 minutes from Wally's "home", and even though she recognizes the strip its located in, she's certain she's never noticed the shop before. It's surrounded by restaurants and a bakery, but now that she's noticed it she can appreciate just how cute it looks. It's small and the sign is elegant while the actual building itself is colorful compared to the rest surrounding it. It's actually so colorful she wonders how she's never noticed it before.

     She enters the establishment with a ring from the bell hanging just above the door signaling her entrance, the inside is a bit more simple compared to the outside, mostly natural woods and white paint while the flowers brought the room to life with their vibrancy and colors. To her right she sees a (e/c) and (h/c) employee, just as Eddie had described.

     You jump up from a stool you had been sitting on behind the counter with the register. Greeting her with a bright, relaxed smile.

     "Oh! Hello, welcome, my name is Y/N. Is there any type of flower you're looking for in particular today?" 

     "Hello, my name is Julie. Julie Joyful, how do you do?" She asks cooly, approaching the counter and outstretching her hand, your smile somehow becomes even more dazzling at her introduction and greeting. 

     "I'm doing well actually, thank you for asking." 

     Julie reaches into her pocket and pulls out the business card holding it up, "I got your card from Eddie, he says hello and that you're quite the florist." You move out from behind the counter with a gasp, still smiling.

     "Oh! Eddie sent you? Does he need more flowers for that friend of his? I thought for sure he would've won them over by now!" You laugh.

     "Nope, he only recommended you, I'm here for another friend of mine actually." Julie corrects, a smirk growing on her lips, "Oh, and that friend has certainly been won over. They're so cute it's sickening." 

     "Oh I knew it! I had a good feeling about him, I don't always have a good feeling about every customer who comes in, but he was definitely one of the sweetest. Definitely a lot of love in his heart, for sure." You say as you approach a table next to the counter, readying some wrapping and bows/ties, "So, this friend of yours," you start with a lilt, "Are they a friend, or a friend." Julie laughs at your teasing insinuation.

     "A friend, and the flowers are actually for a funeral…kinda." You immediately drop a pair of scissors you pulled out of a drawer onto the table, turning with a look of horror on your face. 

     "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have been so casual and I shouldn't ha–" Julie laughs, interrupting your hurried apology.

     "No worries, it wasn't anyone close to me or to him. It's more of a courtesy thing, I guess."

     A bit of color returns to your face as you visibly relax, realizing you hadn't offended Julie. Even so, next time no funny business!

     "Well is there any particular message you'd like to send using the flowers? Or do you just want a bundle of the same type of flower? White lilies are very popular for funerals, although they're also great for weddings and symbolize purity, and then there's marigold's. They're a bit deceiving, because while they look bright and sunny they really represent mourning and grief." 

     Julie took a moment to examine the flowers filling the room, "You can also just choose whatever is prettiest to you, all flowers have special meanings and can be a sentence all on their own, but not everyone cares too much for that as long as they're pretty." You continue, not focused on Julie so much as you browsed the flowers, mentally comparing combinations in your head. 

     "I'll let you decide, Eddie said you're like an artist when it comes to flowers, so I'll trust you know what you're doing." You hum in response to let Julie know you heard her.

     "You said the flowers aren't for anyone close, but are they a friend or family?" 

     "Family…kind of, I guess. They're for the girlfriend of a distant recently deceased family member."

     "Ah, so like you said, a courtesy bouquet."

     You take a moment to decide, then you immediately set to work, three types of flower should be enough, a short sweet message, "Coral rose, marigold and blue salvia." You say as you expertly cut the appropriate amount of each flower. 

     "What would that mean?" Julie asks, watching as you move the flowers to the table and clip leaves from the stems.

     "Coral roses can mean friendship and modesty, but in this case it means sympathy. Marigolds, as I said, mean mourning and grief; while blue salvia means 'thinking of you'." You explain softly as you arrange and wrap the flowers gently in a neutral paper; then finally tying it together with a matching cord. 

     "So essentially I'm trying to tell her: 'You're on my mind and I sympathize with your grief.' short and sweet." 

     Julie smiles as you turn around and hand her the finished bouquet, it's more colorful than she would've thought a mourning bouquet is supposed to look, but it is pretty just like Wally requested and it has the meaning, "Perfect!".

     You smile, pleased that she likes it, before moving behind the counter to ring her up; but then you remember that Eddie recommended her…you do owe him a favor. Maybe this was his favor?

     "So how much do I owe ya?" 

     "Nothing, it's on the house, this time."

     She looks up from the flowers to make eye contact, "You sure? They can't be that expensive, I don't mind paying, it's outta my buddy's wallet anyway." 

     "It isn't that expensive, which is why I don't mind letting this one go. It's for a good cause and I owe Eddie, I don't know if I'm calling this his one favor, but it's nice to do something nice for someone else." Julie smiles at your kindness.

     "How about I just pay half then? Just consider it a special discount." That sounded like good middle ground. 

     You agreed to her compromise, charging her only fifteen dollars, "Thank you for your business, have a wonderful day and I hope your friend approves of the flowers!" 

     Julie thanked you for your help and waved goodbye before leaving the store and returning to her vehicle, delicately carrying the bouquet.

I am already working on Part Two now!

[shininglikeyoursmile]

Til the end of the line.❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader; Bucky Barnes x female reader. Mob boss Steve Rogers x female reader (no Stucky)

Word count : around 500

Summary: When the closeness of Steve felt suffocating you ran away with Bucky. You did the right thing, right? Even though they are best friends, or were......

Warning: 18+ only. Dark elements. Mob elements. (More to be added as we proceed). No body description of the reader. NO STUCKY!

A/n : All grammatical mistakes are my own. No betad. You are responsible for your media consumption. COMMENTS, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE SO MUCH APPRECIATED!!!! 🥰☺️🥰😍🤩 PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK 😍😍😍🌹🌹🌹I would love to hear your thoughts 🥰. Cause if there's none the story won't proceed 🫣

It's okay. You tell yourself as you look out the window. The sky is clear and the shade resembles his eyes , deep blue eyes, a gaze which can make you freeze or run for your life.

Steve Rogers was something else. Was, as in the past, you left him. Everything about him made you insane but in a good way but you needed to run so he couldn't find you . Steve Rogers, the mafia boss, a king who owns, someone you shouldn't mess with. He is just no one, you tell yourself as you get settled on the couch. "I believe that's it" comes a voice behind you. You tilt your neck to meet his eyes. Bucky. Bucky Barnes . The man who helped you to run away. The equal of Steve . Someone you admire.

"Yeah" you sigh and touch your ear, a habit of nervousness. "It's alright. He will never find us, Doll" he assures and takes the seat next to you . "But that doesn't mean he won't try" you question the uncertainty in your voice. You know he will. "Relax, Doll", Bucky smiles and rubs your arm "I'll protect you ". You believe him, of course you believe him. He brought you here , knowing his best friend will become his enemy. "You wanna eat something?" You smile as you stand up,"I am gonna make some Coffee". He nods and you go to the Kitchen.

His phone rings, the name 'Steve' flashing across the screen. He switches off the screen, for now he just wants to enjoy it. Enjoy what he couldn't cause Steve had you. He was a possessive bastard, always dangling you right in front of his eyes. Something he could never have. But One day, you came to him running, and you said you wanted to run . He just helped you ,right? He returns your smile as you hand him the Coffee. Now you are his, only his. Even though you think he helped you to run away from Steve but there's more. Bucky knows you want him and if you don't he'll make sure you crave every inch of his very being.

**

Steve looks at the screen, the voicemail making him more irritated with every second that passes. He will think about it later but Where the hell are you? He hasn't seen you.And if you are somewhere he can't get a hold of there will be War. A Fucking war. "Boss", comes a voice and Steve moves to the door "You need to see this" .

***

UHM WHAT FO WE THINK?!?😳 IS BUCKY AS GOOD AS HE SEEMS?! WAS IT A GOOD IDEA? WHAT WILL STEVE DO?

[quillwithink]

You're one of a hell dangerous woman, aren't ya?

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Summary:

Striker hasn't learned about your past or yourself. You hid your background information so well by making lots of connections around Pride Ring in return that none of your associates would reveal your true identity(you paid them a huge sum). No one should learn about the fact that you are the daughter of a most dangerous mafia organization from both Pride and Greed.

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You grew up in Pride from one of the Rings of Hell. Ever since you were born; life has never been good. Hence, when you turned 13 years old, your life had already been falling into darkness and ruins.

Your family was a crap of a bloodline; they were dangerous mobs. You never truly wanted to join such a family business.

A few years have passed, and you're now an adult and could finally be free from your own house. You took the big opportunity to catch that opening towards your independence, and as soon as you did just that, you ran away without alarming them.

Yes, you know that none of them would even bother stopping you. But, they are capable of tracking you down, keeping all their eyes on you, and seeing what you are up to. So it is a wise choice you'd rather sneak out without them knowing.

Now that you're successful enough to pull that off, you're now working at the bar club as a bartender and a vice-manager.

You're standing behind the bar, taking your time by taking your customers' orders for them to drink. It was very lively in the bar; loud music, dancing on the dance floor, drunken voices from either from the group of that one table from the far corner end of the room. You shook your head, cleaning the wine glass to dry it up.

You're never fond of loud noises, especially coming from strangers. Although, since it's a bar. You ended up tolerating the loudness and even rough houses that's been happening around here.

As it was mentioned not too long ago, there's already cursing and fighting at the middle of the dance floor. You lift your head up from the glass you're cleaning, glancing your gaze towards the direction of the noise, and there you see it. Two male imps giving each other a hard punch on their face.

Your expression shifts from calm to frowning. You always dislike fighting in your bar. When will they learn to keep the sign in mind, "No fighting allowed" literally hangs on the wall, like three signs of it? Groaning to yourself in frustration, you put the wine glass aside and walked around the bar.

The bodyguards weren't here today since the real manager called them to follow him for a while, having serious business to deal with. You were surprised that he is one of the gang, who owns a bar? He's one of a hella productive.

As soon as you approach the scene of the two male imps, everyone around you takes a step back to give you some path. You glared down at the two, watching them continuously punching each other to death.

One of them is wearing a black thick leather jacket, that every gangster wears to show their intimidation. A shade of blue t-shirt inside, and tied-up hair. Even one of his horns is broken. He's giving the other imp a real and good hard impact with his fist making contact with their jaw.

The other male is wearing the same jacket but with different designs. A plain red t-shirt inside, and fingerless hand gloves. He's spitting harsh words at the other imp as he gives him a most powerful punch that the other stumbled back. He scoffed out a loud laugh, standing up from the ground.

"How'd you like that, ya dipshit?! Feels good to be punched on the face, yeah??!"

He yelled so loud, not even caring about his surroundings.

Now you had enough of their bullshit.

You cleared your throat a bit louder to get their attention, which you successfully did.

"Are the two of you fucking blind and did not see the damn sign?" Inquiring them, it's evident that you're very pissed from the tone of your voice.

"Bitch, we did see the damn sign!! This asshole came up to me and says some bullcrap to my damn ear!"

He pointed at the beaten-up guy, who was wiping his mouth because of the blood dripping. You watched him chuckling at him, standing back up slowly, "Quit being a wimpy bitch, will you? Aside from that, the fuck do you want, little lad?" He snickered at you, not being discreet from checking you out.

You had enough of it. Both of your hands move way faster they were caught off guard when you grabbed their collars. You pulled them closely with threatening eye contact you're giving them.

"Listen here, you idiot imps. I put up the sign for a damn fucking reason; No. Fighting. Allowed. It's that easy, am I right?" Despite being so angry and irritated, your voice stays calm, it's unsettling.

"It's been 10 minutes and y'all still bickering like damn teenage skunks — now that you fucking caught my attention. Why not ban you both?"

Before the two male imps could protest for offending them, and the fact that they are YOUR customers. You dragged them out towards the exit of the bar. Surprisingly, you're strong enough to drag them as they keep stumbling around. Once you've reached the door, you threw them off the ground as hard as you can.

Your eyes gazing down at them, with the lights inside of the bar hiding your features while your back facing the door. Your yellow eyes are glowing threatening as they cowered.

"Taking a step into my bar one more time. I will make sure to be the last person you'll see before saying goodbye to your miserable fucking life."

Writer's Note!

I will be continuing this in either Ao3 or Wattpad. There will be more chapters, but since I am busy with college as a second-year student. This would take a long time to update. Do not worry! I am still working on it from time to time.

Stay tuned~♡

[chicken-fifi]

Captive | Vincenzo Cassano (Vincenzo)

Pairing: Vincenzo Cassano / Park Joohyung x Fem!Reader

Requested by anon: Hi Fifi! I saw you write for Vincenzo, and I was wondering if you would consider writing something angsty centered around the reader and Vincenzo dating and she gets kidnapped by Babel's ppl and he has to rescue her? I hope this is an ok request. Thank you! Your hard work on this blog is always appreciated. ♡

Genre: angst

Warnings: swears, spoilers for episode 16 and beginning of 17, blood, death, murder, psychopath, guns, this whole show is a warning man, mafia, mob, MURDER, i also changed a few small things to accommodate the reader in this imagine

Word Count: 3,173 words

A/n: my first vincenzo request! i loved this kdrama so much man and really hope i was able to do it justice below the cut. and i really just wanna hug you for your kind words there anon. you just made my night (i'm writing this late as hell). as always, feedback is always appreciated! i may have also gone a bit overboard with the length of this one without noticing. it's always the kdrama imagines these days...

“How’s she doing?” Vincenzo asked over the phone. As much as he was trying to hide his concern for his biological mother, his tone gave away his increasing worry about her. 

“She’s fine at the moment,” you said looking at the woman sitting in her wheelchair getting some fresh air. “She seems much more cheery since we took those pictures the other day.”

You turned away just barely missing the way the photograph you were talking about fell from her hands and another person - a man - approached and picked it up before striking up a small conversation with her. “She knows it’s you, you know. Why don’t you just tell her that you haven’t stopped looking over her from afar? Call her ‘Mom?’ It’d mean the world to her, you know,” you turned back hearing her laugh and noticed the man sitting on the bench next to her chatting away. Vincenzo said something that you didn’t quite catch. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I asked if you could stay with her tonight,” he repeated, voice trailing off. You could practically envision his brows furrowing. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah…just distracted. I’ll call you back later,” you hurried not waiting for a response before marching over to Gyeongja and the unknown man. “Can I help you with something?”

The man turned to look at you, eyes widening slightly before they went back to their normal size as he rose to his feet, a smile forming on his face. “Jang Hanseok,” he said, extending his hand to you before retracting it when you didn’t take it. “The photograph fell and I simply picked it up and could help but notice how handsome her son was. You must be happy to have such a handsome boyfriend.”

“Oh she is,” Gyeongja giggled softly. “They make a good couple.”

His attention shifted from you back to her briefly before turning back to you, a strange look in his eye. It was then that you fully took him in. His skin was slightly tanned, crows feet appearing at the corners of his eyes whenever he smiled, hair perfectly styled to compliment his casual outfit, a monotone look consisting of a blazer, t-shirt, and slacks, finished with a pair of canvas sneakers, all in off-white. There was an uneasy air about him that made you nervous just being in his presence. Shivers went down your spine as the hair on the back of your neck stood up. You didn’t have a spidey sense but if you did, it would most definitely be going off like crazy right now.

The look in Hanseok’s eyes changed drastically as you continued staring at him, almost as if sensing your discomfort.  You stepped closer to Gyeongja gripping the handles of the wheelchair tightly, your knuckles turning white. He smiled again, raising his brows momentarily before clearly his throat.

“Well, ladies, I have a very important appointment to get to so I’ll see you both around. I hope you get better soon,” he turned to you and stared for a moment before leaving, not looking back. 

You watched him carefully before hearing a sigh and looking at the older woman as her fingers grazed over the photograph as she gazed in the direction he'd walked in.

“The poor thing. He doesn’t have a single picture with his parents. And his father never cared for him…”

Under most circumstances you would feel some form of sympathy for any one person after a comment like that, but for some reason it only sets alarms off in your head.

“It’s getting a bit cold, we should go back inside so you don’t get sick,” you said, beginning to push the wheelchair.

Your phone buzzed as you entered the hospital. Once inside an elevator you pulled it out seeing a message from Vincenzo.

I’m going to tell her tonight. I’m not missing this chance. I’ll be there later.

You smiled, sending a quick reply before shoving your phone back in your pocket as the elevator stopped and the doors opened and you headed to her room, getting her situated back in the bed and chatted with her for a while before she drifted off, you following soon after.

~~~

Mumbling from outside the door woke you from your light slumber. Carefully rising from your place in the chair you went to the door jumping back as it was opened and a man dressed in scrub entered, the guard posted outside the room being tossed inside like he weighed nothing, blood pooling on the floor underneath his head. You turned to rush to the bed to press the call button, an arm wrapping around your neck preventing you from doing so. The grip tightened as you scratched and pulled at the man’s arms, mouth opening and closing as you tried to make a sound, only for nothing to come out.

“Just pass out you bitch,” he uttered as he tightened his hold on your. You began getting light headed and fought even hard against his grip to try and break free to no avail. You began going limp in his arms as a sharp stinging sensation spread in your neck. He’d injected you with a sedative that only quickened the effects of the lack of oxygen. You finally passed out. 

Quietly, he sat you next to the door, slumped against the wall and made his way over the bed, pulling on a pair of latex gloves as he stared at the old, sick, defenseless woman. She turned around slowly as she awoke, the photograph clutched to her chest.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she looked behind him seeing the bloodied floor and the seemingly dead man. Her eyes shifted to your body slumped over, not moving either but no blood.

The man rushed at her wrapping his gloved hands around her neck beginning to choke her. Her own shot up attempting to push them away with the little strength she could muster as the beeping of the heart monitor sped up. The machine flatlined as she lost consciousness after a number of minutes, arms falling away from him. Letting go, he stepped back, walking over to your body and picking you up, taking you out of the room and laying you down on the gurney he’d been using to get around without suspicion. Placing you on it, he covered you with a sheet - not noticing the shoe that had fallen off in the room. Closing the door, he began pushing the gurney away from the room nurses only giving him a spare glace.

Taking an elevator to the first floor, he pushed it out walking right past Vincenzo who didn’t spare him a second glance as he got in the elevator, a brown paper bag in hand, ready to call Gyeongja ‘Mom’ for the first time in a long, long time. To see your face as you smiled at him when he did so. Ready to be on the receiving end of a strong embrace from the two of you - the two people who truly made him feel like he had a chance at being a normal civilian.

Unbeknownst to him at that moment, none of those things would happen. Instead he’d be met with his good friend Death once more, ruining all of those plans. Police rushed past him as he neared his mother’s room. A crowd was formed outside looking in. His eyes drifted to the linoleum floor seeing the blood splatters outside. His heart rate sped up as he kept walking, pushing away a doctor to look inside, fear growing in his chest. He stood in the doorway seeing his mother’s - his mom’s - covered body laying lifeless, arm handing over the edge of the bed. You were nowhere to be seen, a stray shoe laying discarded on the floor.

The paper bag crashed to the floor just as his entire world began crashing down around him. Tears welled in his eyes as he neared the bed falling to his knees, spotting the crumpled photograph directly underneath her hand on the floor. The tears spilled from Vincenzo’s eyes as he held her wrist softly, everything hitting him and being processed through his mind. In that moment he swore he would find whoever was responsible for her death. He would find you and fight to keep you safe. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - allow you to suffer the same fate because of him.

~~~

Hanseok tore the pictures in half as he smirked after having met Myunghee’s gaze as she hung up the phone. He looked over at you sitting on the floor, your hands bound and mouth gagged, with an equally sinister grin as he tossed the pictures in your direction. They were images of Gyeongja and you in her hospital room. Neither of you were aware you were being watched. Hanseok rose to his feet, sneering in your face as he did so, before grabbing Myunghee by the hand and beginning to waltz around the room with her as they both let out manic laughs.

Tears welled in and spilled from your eyes as you realized what must’ve happened. Gyeongja must be dead. They’d killed her. They’d order for her to be murdered. And they let you live as live bait for the one person they were truly after. 

Vincenzo.

Hanseok stopped dancing, laughter still falling from his lips as he looked over at you making his way to you. With brute force, he forced you to your feet, holding you up with one hand, fingers pressing painfully against your jaw and cheeks.

“You have got a temper,” he scolded. “I don’t like being ignored. But seeing as though you clearly mean something to that consigliere, I may just be able to get more than enough use out of you before throwing you away.”

Fear coursed through your veins as you looked at the eerily cheerful man. No remorse or even regret was evident, which scared you even more. This man wasn’t normal, that much was evident. And right now you really wished he was. That he would be capable of having some guilt. But you knew he wouldn’t.

“Call Hanseo and Seunghyuk,” he ordered. “We’re celebrating a victory tonight.”

~~~

“All right,” Hanseok sighed, holding a glass of liquor in his hand. “Tonight, we’re going to drink ourselves stupid.”

“Sir,” Hanseo began glazing over at you sitting on the floor beside him. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

“Because I just killed Vincenzo’s mom. And I happen to have his other most prized possession at my beck and call,” he spared you glance, hand pulling your hair roughly knocking you over. Hanseo and Seunghyuk were clearly shocked by his words. “Can you imagine? Finally reunited after 30 years, then BAM!”

“What?”

“I mean, poor guy. It must be killing him. Mother dead. Girlfriend missing,” he laughed.

Hanseo looked at you in shock, heart pounding his chest. He could allow anything to happen to you lest his own plan be ruined. Seunghyuk looked at you momentarily before looking at Myunghee, “Were you aware of this?”

“What’s wrong?” Hanseok asked. “You disappointed in me?”

“Oh, what? No, sir,” Seunghyuk stuttered, laughing hesitantly as he looked at you struggling to sit back up. “I’m worried about the consequences. That’s all. I mean, the poor girl. Can’t you treat her a bit more, humanely?”

“He’s right,” Hanseo agreed. “Why would you go and poke the bear, sir? And to treat her like this?”

Hanseok bit the inside of his cheek, staring at the two men, before looking down at you and scoffing.

“Of course you two are in agreement…since you’re such good buddies,” Myunghee commented.

“Excuse me?” Seunghyuk questioned meekly. “Just what are you saying? Hey, Ms. Choi-”

Hanseo stood up, “How dare you speak to me like that?”

“Please, I’m just stating a very simple fact.”

Hanseo huffed looking at Hanseok who couldn’t look any more disinterested in the conversation watching you struggle as he played with his glass, “Come on, sir! She’s exaggerating. He saw I was struggling with some business stuff, and he was helping me out.”

Hanseok’s gaze flitted to him almost as if daring him to keep lying to him.

“I’m afraid that doesn’t explain all your secret meetings,” Myunghee added leaning forward, her foot jutting out and kicking you. “Not to mention the meetings you’ve had with this one.”

Seunghyuk and Hanseo began arguing with Myunghee - who kept her cool - attempting to climb out of the hole they’d unknowingly put themselves in. Whilst Hanseok continued playing with the glass as he foot began tapping against your head rather harshly. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted Vincenzo to come and get you out of this situation or pray he kept his mind straight and focused on taking Babel down. But knowing him as well as you did, you already knew he’d rather get shot time and time again before allowing any of these people to get away with his mother’s murder and your kidnapping.

The three continued arguing as Hanseok forced you up and gripped your face tightly, not looking at you as he watched them go back and forth.

“You’ll all end up just like this too,” he whispered, a smirk on his face. “Just watch.”

You jumped back as a bloodied man came running through an entrance stopping the begging from Seungyuk to Hanseok to believe him as Myunghee screamed from shock. For the first time in a while Hanseok looked slightly shocked as he spotted the man, the same man who had been in the hospital room. The man you could only assume murdered Gyeongja.

He was muttering something incomprehensible to your ears before a gunshot echoed through the air, a bullet being fired into his torso. Followed by another through the back of his head. Your heartbeat sped up as you shuffled backwards attempting to distance yourself, Hanseok holding you in place. Everyone was shaking and whimpering in fear as the man’s body fell revealing Vincenzo standing there gun aimed and ready to fire another shot. 

From where you were you could see the blood on his hands and face, his bruised and bloodied knuckles and cold expression reminding you just exactly who it was you were with. He never hid it from you but you’d never seen him like this - this cold. He’d never allowed you to see this side of him. Not even when you left Italy after Paulo attempted to have you both killed in his apartment. 

There wasn’t a single emotion in his eyes as he stared blankly at Hanseok, gun aimed at him. He didn’t glance at you as he walked forward calmly, eyes trained on the man holding you firmly beside him. Fear settled in your stomach as you stared at the barrel that was pointed in your direction by sheer chance. He moved his arm and pointed the gun at Myunghee who cowardly fell down then to Seunghyk and Hanseo who hid behind the couch, before going back to Hanseok who continued to stare him down. His eyes flitted to yours for a split second twitching his head slightly, before going back to Hanseok’s. He began firing the gun in different directions forcing everyone to take some sort of cover - even you. Glass and porcelain shattered upon contact from the bullets. With Hanseok covering his head, you took your chance to move away from him as best as you could, struggling as you did so.

With you out of the way, Vincenzo aimed the gun once more at Hanseok as he made his way closer, giving you a chance to crawl behind him. He lowered the gun helping you stand and giving you a brief once over before turning back to the man he was there to give a message to.

“Murdering my mother…kidnapping my woman…those were unforgivable and absolutely foolish actions,” he said monotonously. “I knew that you killed countless people and even tried to kill me. Do you know why I haven’t killed you?” he paused looking at the gun. “It's a hassle.” 

Hanseok looked up and Vincezo took a few steps forward, your feet staying glued to the floor where you had been standing behind him. 

“I had a job to do. So putting a bullet in you, wasn’t worth wasting my time over. I’m not sure your measly sidekicks would inconvenience me much.”

He took a seat on the couch.

“But now…you all have to die.”

There was an exclamation of ‘don’t kill me’ and whimpers as he paused, staring directly in front of him before he continued speaking.

“Don’t worry. It won’t be tonight. I live by this principle: ‘What a blessing it is to have a painless death.’ I’m going to give you two things you’ve earned. First, the humiliation of a lifetime, and second…a slow and agonizing end to your life,” Vincenzo turned his head to Hanseok. “I swear.”

He looked away, “You can take care of that garbage. And don’t even try pinning his death on me or it will be all over the news…who hired my mother’s killer.”

Vincenzo rose back to his feet, beginning to walk back in your direction before stopping as he made a noise as if he’d remembered something, going back to Hanseok who crawled backwards as Vincenzo lifted the gun and took aim, cocking the gun, “Here’s a preview for all of you.”

He moved the gun a few centimeters before firing it, taking off a chunk of Hanseok’s ear, his scream filling the air. Vincenzo turned back around walking briskly in your direction and grabbing your arm, pulling you with him as he left as though he were leaving a very rough legal meeting.

~~~

Vincenzo was bent over his mother’s body crying as you stood beside him, unsure of what to say or do. The man who had always been so strong and fearless, void of much emotion was breaking down before your very eyes.

“Ma,” he cried over and over again as he sobbed. “Ma.”

~~~ “You should get some rest,” you offered as you stood beside him near the memorial front of the funeral home. “You’ve had a rough time.”

He looked over at you, the bells chiming and drum beating at the monks chanted something consistently, but didn’t say a word before looking away. Everyone from the plaza was there with him offering some semblance of support but clearly mourning and feeling the pain Vincenzo was feeling himself. 

~~~

Vincenzo sobbed into the scarf his mother had asked to be given to him. The words she’d written in her letter pieced his hardened heart over and over again as he read them. He sobbed as he leaned forward on the small table. You walked over from the kitchen and sat beside him wrapping your arms around him tightly, allowing him to cry into you.

“We’ll make them pay,” you whispered tears welling in your own eyes as he arms pulled you tightly against him. “We’ll make them pay for what they’ve done.”

[tinabelcherseroticfriendfiction]

What Day Is It?

Title: What Day Is It? Fandom: MCU Pairing: Mob!Bucky X Reader Rating: NC-17 (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!) Warnings: Mob!Bucky (yes, he’s a warning in and of himself), explicit sexual content, BDSM, spanking, riding crops, Dark content, impact play, orgasm denial, i think that's it? Words: 2,400 Summary: Bucky appears to have forgotten your birthday. So you go to confront him, but he misunderstands your anger.

🍦 Waffle Cone: Bucky Barnes 🔪 Chocolate: Mafia 🍓 Forgotten birthday 🍫 Fighting to fucking 🍮 “If you’ve got something to tell me, now’s the time to do it.” 🍪 “Fight me, you big bitch!” 🌰 “Be a good girl and bend over the desk.” 

All mistakes are mine, but shout out to my beautiful BETA reader @welcome-to-the-sin-zone

Happy Birthday, Birdie!!! @buckysbirdie, as promised, I got this up today! So this story came out MUCH DIFFERENT than what I had intended it to be! I was writing along and suddenly it took a sharp left turn and here's where it landed LMAO So I hope you like it!!! <3 <3 <3 <3

Materlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You were pissed.

Absolutely, inexplicably, unconditionally, pissed. And the bastard responsible? James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, AKA The Winter Soldier, Mob Boss of Brooklyn. 

It was one thing to forget small things, like a last minute dinner plan. But your birthday!?

Bucky had been in meetings all month, which was nothing new. There were times when he would be gone from New York for weeks at a time doing deals and keeping tabs on his empire, but in the 5 years you had known him, he had never let work get between him and your birthday month, much less your birthday. But now… 

You stormed into his office, ignoring Sam and Steve who were trying to grab you and pull you out, telling you to leave Bucky alone, he would make it up to you. You weren’t listening. You were furious and you didn’t care how dangerous James Barnes was, you were going to give him a piece of your mind.

Bucky, for his part, was sitting behind his large oak desk, his tie undone, his hair mused, and his cell phone up to his ear, looking downright ragged. You didn’t care.

“Barnes!” You hollered, storming up to his desk and slamming your hands down like you could intimidate a man like Bucky. “Get off the phone!”

Bucky eyed you up and down, his eye twitched. “Doll.” He drawled, sitting up in his chair a little straighter. “I suggest you go back to your room. I will be there shortly.”

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow and advised the person he was speaking to that he would be right back, placing his phone on mute. “No?” He asked as Sam and Steve both reached for your arms to pull you away, but you jerked out of their hold. 

“You have five minutes. If you’ve got something to tell me, now’s the time to do it, Princess.”

Bucky didn’t usually use your nickname when he was angry. But then again, when he did, you knew he was angry. Except, he didn’t get to be angry right then. It was your turn to be pissed.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say!?” You cried, throwing your hands up. “What day is it, James?”

The use of his first name caught his attention and he narrowed his eyes. “Wednesday. And like every Wednesday, I have meetings. Meetings, by the way, that help protect you. So if you have anything else -”

“Fuck your meetings!”

“Are you looking for a fight?” Bucky stood up, his blue eyes never leaving you, threatening your very existence. “I don’t appreciate being -”

“Yeah! I fucking am! Fight me, you big bitch!” You cried, as you reached over and grabbed his phone, throwing it at him. “Come on, fight me!” Sam and Steve exchanged looks, worried for your safety, but afraid to intervene at this point and risk retribution from Bucky. “Y/N…” Steve said slowly, quietly. “Come on, let’s go back -”

“You stay the fuck out of this, Rogers!” You turn to Steve, shoving him hard. “And you, too, Wilson! I’ll get to you when I’m done with this bastard!”

“That’s enough!” Bucky hollered, stepping around his desk and grabbing you by the arm. “Rogers, Wilson. Out!”

The two scurried from the room as fast as they could as you turned back to Bucky, throwing a punch at him the way Natasha had shown you during your self defense practices Bucky had insisted you take with her every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It hit Bucky in the chest, hard enough that he felt it, but not hard enough to make him drop your arm.

“What is wrong with you!?” Bucky yelled, pulling you closer by the arm. “You want to fight!? Or do you want me to punish you!?” He tugged on your arm again, pulling you closer to his desk. “Be a good girl, then, and bend over the desk!” His mental hand pushed between your shoulder blades, forcing you face down onto his desk as he moved to stand behind you, ripping your leggings down the seams to reveal the soft pink panties you threw on just to piss him off more.

“I’ve told you once, I’ll tell you a thousand times, you don’t wear underwear - or pants - in the house!” He pulled the band to your panties back and allowed them to snap your lower back. “Now, you’ve interrupted my meeting, you broke my phone, you yelled at me and called me names in front of my men, you wore panties and pants, and you’re being an absolute brat right now. Usually that would be ten spankings for each rule broken, but that would be 70 swats. Can you take that?” He growled, pulling back just enough to pull the shredded remains of your leggings and your cotton panties off of you and threw them into the fireplace. His mental hand went right back to your shoulder blades, keeping you in place on the desk. 

“Fuck you and your stupid rules!” You grunted as you tried to move under him, trying to get any leverage. “I’m still pissed at you!”

“And you won’t tell me why!” He yelled, pulling his hand back and slapping your ass hard. “That’s one, the next 79 you’re counting!”

“79!? You said 70 total!” You turned your head to glare at him.

“You know the rules, 10 for each rule broken. Are you *trying* to get to 100!? Because you’re now at 90.” He smirked, knowing exactly what this did to you.

You growled, turning your head away from him. “Fuck you and fuck your rules. You don’t own me.”

“100.” He landed another hard slap on your other cheek. “Count or I’ll add 10 more for each one you forget to count.”

You cursed, gripping the edge of the desk as hard as you could. “Two,” you hissed out, hating that you’re already turned on by this. You were supposed to be mad at him!

“That’s my good girl. I know you’re in there somewhere, Princess.”

Before you can respond, he lands three sharp slaps to your rear that has you pushing up onto the desk with each hit.

“Three-four-five!” You counted before you could forget. The most Bucky has ever handed you was 70 at one time. You weren’t sure you would survive 100. 

“Jesus, look at you,” Bucky laughed. “Just five in and you’re dripping. My god, you’re a slut.” he dipped his hand between your legs, running one of his fingers through your folds and scooping up some of your excitement.

You whimper, your walls clenching around nothing. This was going to be torture, but fuck if it didn’t turn you on. 

“This what you wanted, Princess?” He asked, spreading your lips and pushing a finger into you, causing you to gasp and rock your hips back to get some friction. “You just wanted Daddy’s attention? Well, you got it now. You have my full. Attention.” He pulls the finger out and immediately lands the next five smacks on your ass and thighs.

You count, tears already falling down your face. “Daddy -”

“Nuh-uh. Bad girls don’t get to talk. They just count.” The next ten came quickly, one after the other, quick succession in a rhythm only Bucky follows.

You’ve started shifting on your feet, trying hard to press your thighs together to get some relief of the tingling sensation between your legs as he pauses then, staring at your ass. You lick your lips and take the brief pause to close your eyes and stretch your fingers, knowing that it’s only going to get worse. 20 in, and you’re ready to beg forgiveness - not that it would help. Bucky always forgives you. But he never backs off or decreases your punishments.

You’ve just managed to get your legs together and get some relief, a short moan escaping your lips before Bucky is kicking your legs apart and thrusting three of his metal fingers deep into you.

You cry out, clawing at the desk to pull away, despite how good it feels to finally be filled with something. “FUCK! BUCKY!” you cried, pushing back onto his fingers as he brutally thrusts them in and out of you for a few moments before they’re gone again and Bucky’s shirt is shoved into your mouth, tied up with the discarded tie you aren’t sure when he removed.

“I told you! Only good girls get to talk!” He hissed, giving your ass yet another smack. “Now I  have to count. And you know what that means?”

You did. Fuck you knew exactly what that meant, and you started crying. Now not only are you going to get your 100 spankings, you weren’t allowed to cum. And goddamnit, it was your birthday. It wasn’t fair!

“Keep it up, Princess, and you’ll be my personal cumbucket for a month with no release in sight. Go ahead, try me.” He taunted before he grabbed the riding crop from his desk. When did that get there? Had it been there the whole time?

“Don’t think this means you’re getting off easy.”

You wanted to roll your eyes. The riding crop was never ‘getting off easy’. It just meant Bucky wanted to save his palm from stinging too much during longer sessions. It also meant he had even more planned for you.

Fuck me.

The next thirty came swift, and you were positive you weren’t going to be able to sit down for the next week. Bucky would stop every 10-20 strokes to tease you more. He would circle your clit with his metal hand, bringing you so close to pleasure then pulling back and giving you another 10 spanks. Or he would finger you until you were sobbing then pull out and give you another 15.

At 60 he stopped longer, pulling his pants down and shoving his thick cock into you as fast and hard as he could, moaning filth and obscenities in your ear as he fucked you hard and fast, cumming in you before you could get there yourself. He stayed there, deep in you, pulsing, for a good five minutes then.

“That’s it, Princess,” he growled. “Take daddy’s cum. Gonna fucking breed you. Stuff you full of children and keep you pregnant. Fuck - God you’d look amazing with my baby inside you. You want that, Princess? You want Daddy’s baby? I’ll give it to you, you filthy slut.” he bit your shoulder, hard, before pulling out and giving you another 10 hard spanks with the riding crop that had you sobbing harder, your tears leaving a pool beneath your face on the desk that not even Bucky’s shirt and tie could soak up.

“That’s 70, baby. You’ve never done more than this.” He says, like you didn’t already fucking know that. “Just 30 more. You can do it.”

You wanted to scream at him. Hurl insults and yell at him to fuck off, but all you got out was another wimper as the next 5 came suddenly, hitting down your thighs almost to your knees.

If it wasn’t for the desk, you were sure you would have collapsed by now. 25 more seemed impossible. You were aching everywhere, and you thought you were bleeding. You couldn’t be sure. Bucky hadn’t said anything, but you wouldn’t put it past him. 

You almost didn’t feel the next 15, the ache in your ass almost overriding the sensation of more spacks, but the final 10 you definitely felt.

Bucky had shifted, apparently sensing that you were no longer feeling the hits on your ass, and was now swinging underhanded, bringing the crop up to your pussy and clit. Each new smack had you screaming harder, tears streaming down your face like a waterfall. It was torture. Pleasureful torture. 

You sobbed in relief when Bucky said the magic number - “100.”

But it was cut short when he grabbed you by the waist, flipped you over and laid you out on the desk, his head diving between your legs to eat you out like a starving man.

You tried to shove him away, but his metal arm grabbed both of your wrists and held them to your stomach, preventing you from moving or pushing him away.

Your overly sensitive core was attacked by Bucky’s wicked tongue, bringing you to another almost orgasm before he pulled away again. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he reached around and pulled the gag off of you, eyebrows raised.

“Now. Are you going to tell me why you were being such a brat?” He asks nonchalantly.

You sniffled, wiping your own face - tears, snot, and slobber - off with your shirt before shoving him lightly, most of your fight gone.

“You forgot my birthday.” You muttered.

Bucky took a step back, frowning. “What?” he asks, looking over to his date book. “No I didn’t - oh fuck…”

You wiped at your eyes again, nodding and you attempted to sit up. “Yeah. You did. You promised you’d never forget! You swore you’d make me feel special every birthday…”

“Fuck, Princess,” He hurried to his bar and grabbed you a cold bottle of water and hurried back to you, opening it before handing it over. “I’m - Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot.”

Taking the water bottle, you took a small sip before Bucky was moving again, grabbing the baby wipes he kept in his drawer and cleaning you up gently before pulling you into his lap as he sat down in his chair again.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky murmured, kissing your forehead. “I’ll make it up to you. Where do you wanna go? Anywhere. Anywhere at all. We’ll go for a whole month.”

“The bedroom?” You glance at him. “I would have understood if you had just told me that you were busy and we wouldn’t get to celebrate this year. But you swore to never forget.”

“I know I did. And I’m so sorry, Princess. I’ve just had so much on my plate. It’s no excuse and I’ll still make it up to you. Starting with - your punishment is over. How about we go take a nice hot bath and calm down… and then have some fun all night?”

“I don’t think I can feel my legs.”

Bucky shifted you on his lap and held you close. “I’ll carry you, Princess. I’ll carry you anywhere you want to go.”

Ope.

~*~ Fin ~*~