#Guy Fieri called he wants his shirt back

[btm-txt]

"Hey Pops! got you somethin’"

Sojourner: Don't you just absolutely love it? Now you have something nice to get you in the vacationing mood *grins*

Spectre: ....Thank you Son....

🛳️ Cruisin’ for a good time!

A piece I made based of a cruise shipping RP with the chums on Discord, couldn’t help but bring Spectre and Iris along for the shenanigans.

At the sight of water the islander in Iris jumps for joy, Spectre on the other hand is a different type of islander… aaaaannd a grumpy old man.. wearing a silly shirt lol

[luvsupa]

JUST ONE HOUR!

tags: exhusband!toji x fem!reader, businessman toji (guys pls he’s rich in this </3), petnames, smut (p in v), unprotected, mentions of reader being a mother again, etc. mdni.

w.c: 1.4k

a/n: sawryy been kinda ia bc of uni </33

you step into the crowded venue alone, the air thick with chatter and the lively notes of a string quartet filling the beautifully decorated hall. everyone around you is dressed elegantly for your ex-husband’s extravagant charity event. you hadn’t wanted to show support for him, but after much convincing from your friends and children, you reluctantly gave in, promising yourself you’d only stay for an hour.

as you navigate through the crowds of familiar faces, many of your old friends greet you, their compliments on your long, black, sparkly dress feeling insincere. awkwardly making small talk, you realize how distant you’ve become from these people since your divorce from toji.

“how are your children, mrs. fushiguro?” a married woman asks, her arm linked tightly with her husband’s—who, as you know, is traveling abroad to cheat on her.

“i’d prefer if you didn’t call me fushiguro; we’re not married anymore, remember?” you respond, lifting your empty ring finger to emphasize your point. gasps of shock ripple through the group at your “rudeness.”

“oh, darling, I completely understand your desire to drop the fushiguro name. it’s not like you have the charm or elegance to carry it anyway,” another married woman chimes in, laughter erupting around you, igniting a fiery rage in your chest.

“honestly, if toji were with someone like me, I’d take care of his every need in ways you can only dream of. I know how to keep a man satisfied, which is clearly something you’re not equipped for,” a third woman interjects, pushing your anger to its peak. the background chatter fades away as your breathing becomes heavy and your vision narrows.

“well, it’s a shame you think you’re so special because, from what I hear, your husbands are cheating on you. I guess when you can’t satisfy them, they go looking elsewhere—”

before you can finish, toji strides in from behind you. his large hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his broad chest as he leans down to your ear. “easy, brat. I can’t let you go on with that mouth of yours,” he scolds, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. you can’t help but hitch your breath at the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

the expressions of the married women shift, their eyes darting to their husbands, who stammer awkwardly at their words. you suppress a giggle as chaos erupts around you, arguments bubbling up as they turn on their partners. with everyone distracted, you push toji’s hand away from your waist and turn to scoff at him. but fuck, he looks good. his black, luxurious suit hugs his frame perfectly, the white button-up shirt undone just enough to reveal a hint of his toned chest. toji smirks, the scar on the corner of his lips rising as he notices how you scan him.

you push past the crowd, making your way up the large spiral staircase while exchanging polite greetings with those you pass. you can feel his eyes boring into your back—an almost burning sensation—as you glance over your shoulder to catch him in the sea of wealthy businessmen, sipping on champagne. your heart races when you see him flaunting the matching wedding ring you once shared, its brilliance shining in the bright venue.

hastily, you rush up the steps, opening door after door in search of an unoccupied washroom. frustration mounts with each locked door, but hope reignites when you spot double doors at the end of the hall. as if your prayers have been answered, the doors swing open to reveal the most beautiful room you’ve ever seen—a private lounge. your eyes sparkle as you take in the elegant decor, complete with a private kitchen and balcony.

your heels clack against the polished marble floor as you place your clutch on the large island table, relief washing over you as you settle into the quiet space, far removed from the pretentious crowd downstairs.

“trying to slip away? don’t pretend you’re not enjoying the chase; I know you’d miss me way too much,”

a low voice booms in the serene atmosphere, startling you. you turn to see toji standing there with his hands in his pockets, slowly striding toward you until he’s right in front of you, looking down at you with a smirk.

“you look so good, doll,” he says, his voice low as he leans against the island table, biting his lower lip as he admires your figure in the elegant dress.

and you really—really tried to resist him.

but it was impossible to think straight with the way he was pounding into you, hitting every perfect angle and reaching the deepest parts of your throbbing hole. your slick walls clenched around his thick shaft, making it all the more maddening. toji had you bent over the island table, your dress bunched up around your waist, leaving your bare ass exposed in the private lounge. your eyes rolled back as his relentless thrusts sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, his grip on your hips nearly bruising. the room filled with the sinful sounds of skin slapping and the broken melodies of your moans mingling with his low groans.

“my. . . pretty. . fuckin’. . wife.” toji growled, each word punctuated by a deep, punishing thrust that slammed into your sweet spot, sending jolts of pleasure through your trembling body. his hand shot up, tangling in your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing your back to arch while he relentlessly pounded into you.

“t-toj’—” you stammered, your voice barely coherent between breathless moans, your body jerking with each rough thrust. “’s too m-much…” your words trailed off into high-pitched whines, your mind too hazy to form anything more than desperate pleas.

leaning down, his lips brushed against your ear, his hot breath igniting every nerve in your body. “you can take it, you’re a big girl,” he rasped, nibbling on your earlobe, his voice dripping with dominance. “look at you, babbling for me.”

the wet, obscene sound of your cunt squelching around him only fueled his pace, your moans intertwining with the sinful symphony as he continued driving into you without mercy, pulling more helpless words from your lips.

in a swift motion, toji hoisted your leg up, his grip firm and unrelenting, holding it in place as his hips snapped forward at a brutal, faster pace. the new angle sent shockwaves through you as his thick tip pressed deeper, practically rearranging your insides. the intense sensation made you crumble, barely able to hold yourself together as he drove you closer to the edge with every thrust.

“gonna make you a pretty mama again, mmm? all filled up.” toji rasped in your ear, his voice low and teasing as you sobbed loudly, tears spilling down your cheeks, nearly drooling at the thought of being filled to the brim. a smirk tugged at his lips when he felt you clench around him,

so fuckin’ nasty, he thought.

he snaked the hand on your neck down to your sensitive nub, pinching your clit between his fingers and sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you as your leg began to shake.

“i can feel it—hahh— you in my tummy,” you whimpered, the realization igniting a rush of pleasure and desperation within you. toji lost it at your words, his breath hitching as he looked down, watching the outline of your stomach stretch against the fabric of your dress, the bulge unmistakably visible.

the sight drove him absolutely feral, a primal hunger surging through him. “hn, f-fuck, baby,” he whimpered, the words slipping from his lips as he struck even harder, each powerful stroke pushing you closer to your limits.

“mr. fushiguro, i-it’s time for your speech.”

your heart dropped at the sound of a female voice behind the doors, a stark reminder of the world waiting just outside. but toji—oh, toji—his primal instincts kicked in, and the thought of being interrupted only fuelling his desire to finish inside you. nothing would stop him from pleasing his baby.

“t-toj’… you— ngh— you have to go…” you squeaked, desperation lacing your voice as he harshly slapped your slick, throbbing cunt, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. your thighs sticky as cobwebs of your arousal clung to his fingers, causing you to tremble uncontrollably.

“upp we go,” a smirk spread across toji’s face as he stepped back, maintaining his cock snug against your gummy walls. with a firm grip, he lifted both of your legs, carrying you as he approached the doors leading to the balcony where the majority of the guests awaited his speech.

fuck.

“just a little longer, baby,” he growled, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “i want them all to know you belong to me.”

[slut4sugu]

𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎— BLUE LOCK BOYS X BLACK!FEM READER

inventory: isagi, nagi, chigiri, rin & sae and Yukimiya level: tooth rotting fluff . kinda long . Yukimiya is my man fight me bout it (I’m kidding ily guys)

#- YOICHI. I

lowkey hot when he gets serious, like watching him practice is genuinely one of your favorite things to do is to watch your usually sweet boyfriend focus. Or even if it’s just working out, seeing him sweating in those compression shirts..yeah you can’t take your eyes off of him.

calls you a brat in that voice (yall know what I’m talking about, the way I was screaming when I heard him call barou donkey.)

gives you bear hug; but does that thing where his hands creep up around your waist slowly as you feel his chest pressed against your back.

what it’s like dating him: sweet kisses pressed into your skin when you wake in the morning, soft launches on your instrgrams, shared smiles from across the room, the feeling of clean sheets and warm blankets making you feel warm and fuzzy as you wait for your boyfriend to join you in bed.

#- NAGI. S

leans against doorways peering inside when he’s looking for you; honestly you forget how tall your boyfriend is sometimes. Seeing nagi easily match the height of a doorway while asking you if you got your Nintendo charger is ridiculously attractive.

States dead in yo face when your talking to him, sometimes you think he’s zoned out (he’s eyeing your lip combo) but his gaze never fails to make you nervous.

what it’s like dating him: loving insults passed back and forth over video games, matching keychains and bios, late FaceTime calls when you two can’t go to bed together, sleepy goodnight kisses, love bites and hoodies

#- CHIGIRI. H

the way he ties his hair up when he’s doing sum shit; you swear sometimes he teases you purposely when your nearby. Holding a hair tie between his pretty lips (he always steals your strawberry lip balm because it’s your favorite) while his hands smoothly gather up his fiery locks.

Purposely leaves you hot and bothered when he’s feeling bratty, by kissing you with such intensity but softness you’d think this man was tryna fuck. Nope. His intentions? To make you wanting hell of a lot more after that kiss, however he wants you to beg for it. After your lips part, a smirk tugs at chigiris lips “Gotta go study now, sweetheart. Might take a while.”

Is the type to ask for one of your candies but when you reach for the bag he kisses you, stealing the one that was currently in your mouth. “It’s always strawberry with you isn’t it 😒.”

what it’s like dating him: online shopping and 2000s movies late at night, matching pjs and skincare + haircare routines, silent glances at each other when some weird shit was said, teasing words whispered into your ear when he picks you up for your 1 year anniversary

#- RIN. I

Teases you with kisses when he wants something, his relentless eye contact the sound of his words seemingly becoming softer. Letting your eyes flutter close as his lips slowly starts to come to yours. But instead all you get is an amused chuckle, and a slight smirk from Rin.

Tilts your chin up to look at him when you’re being shy; it’s not even in a demeaning way. Rin genuinely wants to see your face when he’s talking to you. However the intensity of his gaze never fails to flutter your rapidly beating heart.

what it’s like dating him: interlocked pinkies and flushed pink cheeks, late night drives around the city when you both can’t sleep, forehead kisses and movie dates, expensive “just cuz” gifts, the smell of cologne and mint always making your heart race

#- SAE. I

Pulls you into his lap even if there are many vacant seats; this man does not give two shits who’s around. Besides he’s “cold” like 90% of the time and your like always warm

Squeezes your thigh and whispers a warning in your ear when you’re getting “bratty” or out of line so to speak. “I’d watch my attitude if I were you sweetheart.”

what it’s like dating him: lavish dates, big jackets warming your body in the colder months when you forgot to bring one with you, intimate yet soft kisses, reassurance and devotion

#- YUKIMIYA. K

Calls you darling, dear, sweetheart or lovely as pet names; this man is so soft spoken and gives such lover boy energy I can’t imagine him calling his sweet girl anything else.

Is the type to be like “don’t cry you’ll mess up your mascara”; def is a girls girl if that makes sense

Kisses the back of your hand without breaking eye contact everytime he says goodbye, to others it’s out of pure love and adoration for his girlfriend. Truthfully it is but the shy and embarrassed look on your face when his lips meet the back of your hand is definitely a bonus.

what it’s like dating him: soft words of affrimation, the smell of vanilla and fresh laundry, love letters and tea, cute yet simple dates, true love, butterfly inducing glances, and beautiful experiences.

[pinkusmaximus]

So many “taking care of Logan after a long day” fics exist. Why not Wade?

Wade, who is canonically in constant chronic pain due to cancer ripping apart his cells and then being knitted back together by his healing factor. Who, in the comics, isn’t just scarred, but constantly has open wounds on every plane of his body. Whose brain is constantly being literally eaten by cancer and replaced and is tumultuous in his emotions at best (bipolar girly here, relatable). Who so desperately tries to be a good guy when he knows it matters the most. Who throws his all into protecting the people he holds dearest to him. Who is, in reality, doing one of the only jobs that accommodates his conditions, and is still doing it to take out people he believes are causing others harm.

Doesn’t he deserve to be greeted with a warm, reassuring hug and a soft kisses to his features? To be helped out of his suit as his body succumbs to the mounting exhaustion and relief at being at home, taken to a warm (but not hot) bath with a soothing soak blend you’d carefully researched to ease the discomfort of the ever-changing landscape of hills and valleys in his flesh? He knows you know that they don’t help him heal and certainly doesn’t prevent them from reappearing, but he likes to believe (or pretend) that it eases the itch and ache, if only for just a little while.

He likes it when you sit with him, asking gently probing questions about your day to get you talking and less concerned about him. And he likes hearing about your day, the mundane and even routine things that he lacks. He likes it when you offer to help wash the blood off of him, knowing that your careful hands will be gently massaging away at his aching muscles. It’s one of the few times he’s really quiet; letting your hands work off the red to leave behind Wade, just Wade.

When you help him out of the bath, leaving him to the bedroom with his favorite pajama pants and one of seemingly unending shirts with phrases like I GOT MY CLIT PIERCED AT CLAIRE’S or I MAY BE STUPID, you return to the kitchen to take dinner out of the oven. Some kind of one-sheet-pan recipe you’d looked up earlier in the day while you were at work. Whatever it is, it smells amazing from in the bedroom, and he quickly comes out to wrap his arms around your waist and lean over your shoulder to take a deeper whiff, calling you Martha Stewart and Guy Fieri’s bastard scandal child or asking if you were extracted straight out of Gordon Ramsey’s left nut.

You have a lovely dinner with Wade singing your praises the entire time, and god, it knocks him right out. Do not let that man go sit on the couch after a good, filling meal like that, because that is where he will pass out and you couldn’t move him with a forklift. Take him by both hands, lead him into the bedroom, get him on the bed (let him make his comments, they are unavoidable whether he’s horny or not), turn the lights off, and crawl under the covers with him. Press your body as close to his as possible; he’ll probably want to be skin to skin if he can stay awake long enough to get you both out of your clothes. And to perhaps everyone’s surprise except yours, it’s really not all that sexual in nature. He finds the smoothness of your skin soothing against his own, and he runs a little cold, so he finds refuge in the warmth you provide. He likes to pull the covers up to your noses and kiss you under the blankets like you’re hiding some big secret, making you giggle as he shushes you to keep quiet.

His favorite place to sleep on nights like this is with his ear against your chest; the sound of your heart still beating and your lungs still pulling in air is a great comfort to him. If it’s comfortable, he’ll want to fall asleep with your fingers lazily entwined, and pro tip— he finds it incredibly relaxing to have you run your fingertips along his palm, down his wrist and up in the inside of his forearm then all the way back down until he falls asleep. Congratulations, you’ve got yourself a content and quiet Wade all to yourself until morning. Enjoy it. Make sure you kiss his cheeks and nose and forehead while you’re at it; it makes him smile in his sleep.

[starrystevie]

thinking about steve as a radio show host. he's pretty, clean cut, charming with the guests and surprisingly invested in the interviews he does with them. he listens to all of their albums no matter what and uses it as a way to expand his music taste and loves breaking down his favorites with the artists themselves. he's a beloved household name from his radio show to his talk show to his product endorsements and he's known as one of the nicer celebrities out there.

thinking about steve being out and proud, dating whoever he wants, whenever he wants, and not shying away from the publicity it gets him. he waves at the cameras that are flashing as he leaves clubs with someone new on his arm, smiles at the people who stare when he walks down the street holding hands with a new boyfriend, laughs along with the interviewers when he has a girlfriend the following week for a red carpet event.

thinking about steve going to work one day after staying up all night to listen to this new metal band on the scene trying to bring back "real rock and roll" as their lead singer puts it. he has a latte in one hand, corroded coffin cd booklet with annotated sticky notes poking out between the pages in the other as he slams open the door. he jumps when he finds the band already in the studio, the back of a curly head he almost recognizes sitting in his chair.

thinking about steve dropping his overpriced latte on the carpet when he realizes just who is sitting in his chair. his mind flashes back to months ago where he met some rockstar in some club who had a fiery smirk and wonderfully smart fingers. he still has the shirt the guy left behind at his place in the back of a drawer as a memento from a very successful one night stand that he tried to find again for weeks.

thinking about steve wrapping up the interview as easily as he can while staring at the singer who still pops up in his dreams late a night. he's out of his chair the second he can be and excuses himself to the bathroom with a not so subtle nod for a certain member to follow and counts the tiles in the ceiling as he waits for him to show up. he grins all wide and cat like when the door opens and pulls him into the stall to get his hands on him as fast as he can.

thinking about steve getting eddie munson's phone number as he buttons his pants up, both of them breathless and sated as they lean against the stall door. he learns he loves the taste of eddie's smile even more in the day time and makes a promise to himself to call him as soon as he gets home. he's not going to let him get away again, he still has a shirt to return after all.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Not sure how old Gidel is but how about we get to see him and Cheka meeting? and then big bros Leona and Fellow can watch their kids play with each other haha

So tell me, do you wanna go?

Fellow liked to think of himself as decent at arithmetic. Numbers made sense, had clear-cut definitions to them. They could be manipulated in predictable ways. Added, subtracted, divided.

He also knew that children don't just magically multiply--which was why he did a hard double take when he glanced back and found two figures trotting after him, not one.

"... Who the hell's this?" Fellow demanded, thrusting his fox-tipped cane at the second boy. "You seen this guy before, Giddie?"

Gidel furiously shook his head.

The new child, a lion cub with a fiery orange mane, stared up at Fellow with wide caramel eyes. “Hiya! Have you seen my ojitan? I'm lookin' for him."

"Your ojitan?" Fellow blinked. He combed through the NRC staff in his head. Not a single lion beastman came to mind. Shoot, looks like I can't hold him for a handsome ransom. "Nope, can't say I have. You might be lookin' in the wrong place, kiddo. Try Foothill Town."

"I don't have enough money for the bus fare. I used what I had to take the bus here,” the bot explained. “Plus, Kifaji might still be waiting for me back in town.”

Kifaji? Must be the brat’s babysitter.

"Well, sorry. Afraid I can't help ya. C'mon, Giddie. Let's get going." Fellow turned and took a few paces. The familiar clumsy footsteps of his little brother didn't follow.

He stopped and glanced back, finding Gidel pawing at the pendant looped around the lion cub's neck. It was beaded with vibrant colors, with a large circular silver medallion and a cerulean feather hanging off of it.

"Oh! You like my necklace?"

Gidel nodded.

"Hehe. Kifaji says it's my special charm. It helps me find my way home when I'm lost." A pause. "Do you wanna try it on since you don't have one?"

Gidel's eyes widened. He reached for his top hat and offered it to the cub. A fair trade, he seemed to suggest.

"Oi, Gidel!" Fellow hissed. "Now's not the time for fun and games!"

His protests went unnoticed, however. The lion cub plopped the top hat on red mane, and Gidel slipped the feathered pendant over his head.

"Ahahah! You look so good in that!"

Gidel shyly waved a hand at the other child. You too.

"Your name's Gidel?" The lion cub gave a huge grin. "I'm Cheka. Let's be friends!"

Shock slipped over his facial features. Friends? Gidel hadn't thought it possible. He moved around too much, could never plant his feet in the ground.

Something in his chest fluttered with excitement. Friends, for real? Could he really have them?

“Oh no, ya don’t!”

Suddenly, Cheka was yanked back by the scruff of his shirt. Gidel, too, fell backward, pulled by Fellow by the sleeve. He had half a mind to scold Gidel for talking to strangers--but his mouth went dry when he met the gaze of another beast.

Green, proud.

"Y-You're...!!"

"Ojitan!!" Cheka squealed in delight.

"Don't 'ojitan' me!" Leona scowled, keeping his grip on the child firm. "You keep runnin' off from your guards like that, and ol' Kifaji will blow a blood vessel. He wouldn't stop spam calling me until I nabbed you for him. You're going back to the old coot ASAP."

"Noooo, I wanted to play with you and my new friend!" Cheka protested, flailing his limbs.

"Not on my watch, you aren't. Kiss your ‘new friend’ good-bye.” Leona glared at the top hat Cheka wore. “And trade that back.”

“Hold on a sec!!” Fellow cried out. “Did you just say this kid has bodyguards?!”

Bodyguards… and related to this pompous NRC student… That means he’s loaded!! Well, at least his parents are. Operation Handsome Ransom is still possible!!

“Heeey, Cheka-kun! How would you like to come over for a playdate with Giddie?” Fellow asked sweetly, honey dripping from his voice as he wrung his hands together. (Gidel looked confused until Fellow elbowed him, forcing the boy to give a vigorous nod.)

Leona narrowed his eyes at the conman. "Nice try, omnivore. That trick won't work on me. Find some other sucker. Cheka, we're leaving."

"Ojitaaan, lemme down! I don’t wanna leave yet!”

"No."

"C-Come back, Cheka-kun! This Uncle Fellow Honest-sama has a neat magic trick to show you!"

“Go away!”

"...!!"

"By the Sevens..." Leona groaned. He could feel a migraine coming on. "Let it go already!!"

[meidui]

heyyy！i just saw u reblog an ask and it just happened to be the exact same thing I wanted to ask👉👈 do u have and recommend stony fics that are top Tony/bottom Steve 🥺

you know i do!! see also k's rec list and bulky's rec list, i tried not to rec any that were already on their lists <3

Jackpot by @elcorhamletlive

It’s not always like this.

Tony leans back on the bed, assessing his view. Near the door, balanced on his knees, Steve stares at him with half-lidded eyes, blue eyes darkened under those beautiful eyelashes. His blonde bangs stick a little to his forehead, where a glimmer of sweat is evidence of how long he’s been in that position: knees firmly planted on the rug of Tony’s bedroom, naked aside from a pair of cotton black briefs, hands tied up behind his back, exactly as Tony left him this morning. He breathes heavily, his muscular chest going up and down as he watches and waits.

Doubling Up (Steve) by @elcorhamletlive

“Well,” Tony drawls, his gaze going from the bed to where Steve, and, uh, Tony are standing, next to the small pile where Steve’s shirt lies along with his trousers. “This is awkward.”

Chamber of Reflection by @thahiree

A few years after retiring, Steve and Tony get a surprise visit from another Steve. Steve Rogers from Earth 1610 is lost, grappling with the new century he’s been unceremoniously dropped in, with confusing feelings for his new teammate, with himself.

Steve and Tony decide to get involved.

A Proportional Response by @mserm

Steve doesn't have a reason for cock-blocking Tony.

No reason, whatsoever.

It's Hard To Look Right At You, Baby by Albuss

“Woah,” Tony says, “slow down. Take it easy. Hold your horses.” He can be forgiven for saying the same thing four times because he is already completely, utterly wrecked.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

Five Times Steve Woke Up Early (And One Time He Didn’t) by @airlocksandaviaries

Steve's not actually a morning person, despite his body's insistence. It's quite possibly the one thing about the serum he's not immensely grateful for. Forcing himself up and on a run to burn through the overwhelming, restless energy that builds bright and early would be much more tolerable if it were a few hours later. Tony decides to do something about this.

Underneath it All by @hollyandvice

Steve's finally ready to indulge Tony's fantasy of seeing him in a thong. He just has terrible timing when it comes to implementing sexy times. But that's alright, Tony's a master of making the best of a (not actually) bad situation.

the year you were mine by @areiton

The night that changes his life forever, Steve is on a date with another man.

Or: Steve is a pricy escort and Tony buys him for a year. Neither of them are doing this for love.

a thousand things you call me by @areiton

He calls you a thousand things, and you love them all, count them all and guard them close, because with each he calls you mine.

Your Reputation Precedes You by @vanilla-shoes

Tony agrees to watch the desk for the salon next door to his garage as a favor -- but when he meets the salon owner's fiery best friend Steve, maybe the favor is for Tony after all...

Brooklyn After Dark by darefanny

”I could do that”, Steve had said before his brain could catch up to his big, stupid mouth. He had leaned over Tony’s shoulder to look closer at a photo of a man in lingerie on his tablet.

Slow Burn Fireworks by felisnocturna

Tony fucks him incredibly slowly this time.

praise you like I should by @firebrands

steve gets de-serumed for a hot second, but tony's pretty quick to reassure him of all his lovely traits. (made even better by having to sleep in a shitty motel with a mirror on the bed.)

Suds 'n Studs by @fohatic

Tony didn't mean to hire some super hot, young guy to take his clothes off for money -- honestly! He just wanted somebody to wash his cars! But accidents happen when you let your AI do the hiring for you, apparently. Now the recent divorcee has an awkward apology to make. He also has as an invitation to subscribe to Steve's OnlyFans. What he doesn't have is any clue what he should do in this situation.

In Too Deep by @fohatic

Steve knew that he was asking for trouble when he agreed to let the gallery auction off a date with him for charity, but he needed to get in the director's good books if he wanted to make it as an artist in this cutthroat town. He never imagined that his participation would ignite an outrageous bidding war, or that the infamous, billionaire ex that he hadn't seen since their sudden breakup two years prior would show up and stake his claim.

the thorn in his side by @fohatic

It had been there from the beginning. There was no end to it, that mutual wanting between them—forever unresolved—that had grown so terribly soft and unbearably romantic with age...

But there was an unspoken rule between them, as well: an understanding that they could never act on it.

That is, until an alien parasite's brood nest gets violently dislodged from its Chitauri Leviathan host during the Battle of New York, dispersing its contents directly over two time-jumping tourists who are very much in the wrong place and the wrong timeline.

pull me down by breakeven

He doesn’t mean to pull, is just brushing through the locks there as a means of comfort, to show Steve that he’s still there and present with him, that Tony is just as affected by the wet grasp of Steve’s hole as Steve is by the insistent pressure against his prostate

wind me up by breakeven

Steve hadn’t known it, but apparently Tony could tell after the first time they ever fucked. He could see in Steve the need to please, the need to be of some sort of service, and had known that it would translate perfectly in sexual desires, even when Steve hadn’t had a clue himself.

honey from your hive by meidui

"Steve, stop that," Tony says, sounding strangled as his grip tightens and Steve stops, letting Tony grab his face and tilt him up. "You're kind of scaring the crap out of me. What is it? What's going on with you?"

"We blew up the lab," Steve manages, and something dawns on Tony's face. "Everyone had a reaction 'cept me. Think 'm having it now."

Blushes Per Hour by @blossomsinthemist

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “Well, no,” he said. “Um, but.” He was breathing heavily now, through his nose. “Rachel liked it when I did it, because she has, uh, she has sensitive breasts, and I, um, err. Sometimes I’d pull on my own nipples during, or, or after, on my own, and. And I’d imagine—wonder, really, if I was. If I had enough, or—”

“Are you saying you’ve fantasized about this?” Tony said, and he couldn’t help the pure delight that came through in his tone, because had he actually stumbled onto one of Steve’s kinks, here? He’d never let on at all before, not at all.

Please Please Me by @blossomsinthemist

Steve looked so beautiful flushed and wanting, on his knees, begging.

Failing To Not Fall by @nvrthlessthsun

Steve was failing to not fall in love with Tony Stark.

AKA the one where Steve thinks he's Friends-With-Benefits with Tony, and Tony thinks he's dating Steve.

Paint Job by @valdomarx

“You want me to what?” Steve looked incredulous. “I want you to detail my car,” Tony said with a smirk.

Relax, Darling by @valdomarx

Steve is stressed and tense after a hard mission.

Luckily for him, Tony and his tongue are available to relax him in a variety of delightful ways.

Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd, Four’s a Party by @valdomarx

How to satisfy the secret desires of a horny supersolider:

Ults Steve gets gangbaged by Tony from four different universes (Ults, MCU, AA and 616).

Mark Sixty-Nine by @everybodyilovedies

Tony is irritated that Steve's first hug-and-fly wasn't with him. As the source of many of Steve's other "firsts", Tony has a brilliant idea of how he could take one more. Specifically, Steve's first time being fucked by a machine.

Afternoon Delight by @greyduckgreygoose

Tony watched with narrowed eyes as Rogers nodded politely to Natasha. They exchanged quick, familiar smiles, which suggested that they knew each other better than the acquaintances they seemed to want Tony to think they were. Up close, Rogers was even more attractive than he had appeared on camera, a touch of blonde stubble along his jaw, large square hands.

He also had a nice ass, not that Tony was particularly staring.

“Mr. Stark,” Natasha said, as they both stood before Tony’s desk. “May I introduce Steve Rogers? Or, if you prefer, Captain America.”

The Sixth Time is the Charm by @onemuseleft

The fifth time Steve tried to get Tony to fuck him (and failed) is when he started taking it personally.

Your Kind of Love by blue_jack

The first time they have sex, Tony isn’t really hoping for much.

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 2

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home @clp-84 @thelightknight21

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Chapter 2: Beneath the Ashes

Arriving at Y/N’s place, I park and take a moment to steady my racing heart. I can already see her silhouette through the window, pacing back and forth. Taking a deep breath, I step out of the car, determination mixed with dread coursing through me.

As I knock on the door, it swings open almost instantly, revealing Y/N’s fiery gaze. “You actually showed up,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d actually end shit,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light, but it comes out more defensive than I intended.

She steps aside, letting me in, and the tension in the room is palpable. “What did you expect? You’ve been ignoring me for weeks! You think I’d just wait around forever?”

I clench my fists, my patience wearing thin. “I’m dealing with a lot right now, Y/N. You can’t just act like I’m the bad guy for trying to handle my shit!”

“Handle it? Is that what you call shutting me out? Not even telling me your grandfather passed? What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps, her voice rising.

“I didn’t want to burden you with this!” I shout back, the frustration bubbling over. “I thought you’d understand!”

“Understand what? That you’re pushing me away while I’m trying to be here for you?” She steps closer, her anger radiating off her like heat waves.

“Y/N, stop,” I warn, trying to keep the situation from escalating further, but she doesn’t back down.

“I won’t! You think I’m just going to sit here and let you treat me like I’m nothing?” she yells, shoving me back, her hands pressing against my chest.

I pause, staring at her in disbelief. “I dare you to put your fucking hands on me again, Y/N,” I challenge, my voice low and dangerous.

She steps into my space, glaring up at me, unyielding. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

In a split second, the anger surges, and I grab her shirt, pulling her closer. “You think I’m fucking around, Y/N? I told you from the jump: I don’t play that ‘putting hands on each other’ shit.”

What the actual fuck am I doing

Every time she tries to pull away, my grip tightens, the fire between us flaring. “I hate you,” she spits, the venom in her words cutting through me.

My heart sinks, the words landing like a punch to my gut. “You don’t mean that,” I reply, my voice a mixture of anger and hurt.

She hates me..Well I hate me even more.

“Don’t I?” she counters, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Because right now, I can’t stand you!”

Join the fucking club yn. 

The thought cuts deeper than I care to admit, but I can’t back down now. “You think this is easy for me? Losing my grandfather? It’s tearing me apart, and all I’m asking for is a little understanding!”

Her expression falters for just a moment, and I can see the conflict in her eyes, but then it hardens again. “Understanding? You think I can just overlook you shutting me out? You think I’m just supposed to be okay with that?”

No, I just wanted you to be patient with me. Why Can’t I just say that

“You want to throw everything away because I’ve been dealing with my shit?” I can feel the desperation creeping into my voice. “You think that makes it any easier for me?”

She stares at me, breathing heavily, the anger shifting into something more complicated. But the moment hangs thick with unspoken words, and I can feel the walls between us closing in tighter.

“I don’t know, Sukuna. Maybe it’s too late for us,” she finally says, her voice quieter now but still firm.

I swallow hard, the weight of her words settling heavily in the pit of my stomach. “No,” I whisper, desperate. “It can’t be too late. Not for us.”

She scoffed while walking away from me. I found myself suddenly following Y/N through her apartment, desperation propelling me forward. 

This can’t be happening. Not now. Please, Y/N, just hear me out.

"You don't fucking get it," I growl, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

"Explain it then," she snaps back, her voice watery, barely holding back tears.

Fuck... she’s crying... She’s crying again... I can’t... Oh god... I can’t fucking do this. 

My chest tightens, 

The sight of her in pain tearing at something deep inside me.

“Please just stay and explain it to me,” she pleads, her eyes searching mine for something—understanding, reassurance, anything.

You want me to explain it? To tell you how much it hurts? To tell you that you’re breaking me into a million pieces and don’t even know it? How will that help anything? It won’t make you want me back. It won’t take back the way I’ve been acting or our fights. All I’m doing is hurting you.

“It’s not your fault, okay?” I say softly, trying to keep my voice steady. “I know that. It just... it’s a lot.” My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice, emotions crashing over me like waves.

Y/N cuts me off before I can say more. “I’m not doing this anymore, Sukuna.” Her words slice through the air, final and resolute.

Not doing this anymore.

 The phrase echoes in my mind like a death knell. My stomach drops, a heavy weight settling on my chest.

“What do you mean?” I ask, the words tumbling out in a rush. “You can’t just—”

“I can and I will,” she interrupts, her voice rising. “You’ve shut me out for so long. I can’t keep waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and realize what you’re doing to us!”

But I don’t want to lose you!

“I’ve been trying to be there for you, but you keep pushing me away!” she continues, her frustration boiling over. “I’m tired of feeling like I’m not important enough to you, like you’re too busy drowning in your own problems to even see me!”

“I’m not drowning, Y/N!” I shout, the rawness of my voice shocking even me. “I’m trying to stay afloat! You think this is easy for me? I’m lost without you, but I thought I was protecting you by keeping my distance.”

Her gaze hardens, and for a moment, I see the glimmer of hope flicker in her eyes, then dim. “Protecting me? By shutting me out? By pretending like everything is fine when it’s not?”

I didn’t want to burden you…

“I thought you were stronger than this, Sukuna,” she says, her voice breaking. “But instead, you’re just hurting yourself and pushing me away.”

God, it hurts.

“I’m scared,” I admit, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m scared of what losing you really means. I don’t know how to handle all this, and I thought… I thought maybe I could do it on my own.”

Her expression softens for a fleeting moment, but then it hardens again. “But you can’t. You can’t do it alone. You need to let me in.”

“I know,” I reply, my heart pounding in my chest. “But I don’t know how. I don’t know how to explain any of this without breaking us completely.”

“Then don’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Just be honest. Just... talk to me.”

I want to. I want to tell you everything, but what if it’s too late?

“Please, Y/N,” I plead, stepping closer, desperation coating my words. “I need you to stay. I can’t do this without you.”

She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Sukuna. I need someone who will be there for me, not someone who keeps shutting me out.”

And I don’t want to be that person.

“I’m trying, I swear I am,” I say, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions. “But I’m so damn scared of losing you.”

“I’m scared too,” she replies, her voice small. “But I can’t keep doing this alone.”

In that moment, the distance between us feels insurmountable. I can see the pain in her eyes, the hope slipping away like sand through my fingers. “Y/N, please…”

But she’s already stepping back, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t, Sukuna. Not like this.”

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck…shit…this can’t be happening….why does my head fucking hurt

I know pushing further like this won't help, but I'm desperate. I know I’m being toxic, clinging onto her like this when she’s clearly done, but I don’t care. I could almost hear Jin laughing at me now.

 The great heartless Sukuna, broken up over a girl. Who would’ve thought?

I follow her to her room, watching her collapse onto her bed, her body language screaming exhaustion. She grabs her iPad and starts scrolling on Tumblr, shutting me out. Ignoring me completely.

I sit down beside her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her, trying to close the distance any way I can. "Y/N," I start, my voice coming out soft, barely a murmur, but she doesn’t respond. She keeps scrolling, her face set in an emotionless mask. I can feel her slipping further and further away.

"Get out, Sukuna," she says, her voice steady but hollow. No anger, no frustration. Just...tired.

But I don’t move. I can’t. My pride might be screaming at me to just walk out, to keep whatever scrap of dignity I have left, but my heart? My heart is keeping me glued here, next to her, silently begging her to look at me.

I reach over and try to take the iPad from her hands, but she quickly turns away, hugging it to her chest. I don’t care how it looks; I lay down beside her, scooting closer, feeling the tension in her shoulders, her back rigid with resentment or maybe…exhaustion.

 I fucking missed this...I love her so much. When was the last time I told her I loved her?

I swallow, nerves clawing at my throat. "I love you, Y/N," I whisper, the words tasting like desperation, slipping out before I can stop them.

The silence is deafening, thick and suffocating. Then, a sniffle.

"Don’t say things you don’t mean, Sukuna," she murmurs, her voice breaking, barely holding back tears.

I'm fucking this up. I’m losing her. God, someone, help me not fuck this up further.

She turns towards me, finally, her brown eyes—the ones I’ve grown to love, that used to sparkle every time I made her laugh—now red and puffy, burdened with the pain that I caused.

Without thinking, I lean in and kiss her, gentle at first, then desperate, pouring every unspoken apology, every ounce of regret and love into it. I pull her close, my arms wrapping around her tightly, as if I could keep her from slipping through my fingers any further.

Her body tenses, and for a second, I think she’ll push me away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she clings to me, her fingers tangling into my shirt, pulling me closer. The room is quiet, save for our shaky breaths, the sound of our hearts pounding against each other’s chests.

Please don’t leave me. Please, Y/N. Just stay. Just a little longer. I’ll be better; I swear I will.

Y/N’s lips pull away from mine, and she stares up at me, her eyes searching, conflicted. I feel my heart thundering in my chest, every beat a reminder of how badly I want her, need her right now.

"You taste like cigarette smoke, Kuna," she murmurs, her voice a little unsteady. I can’t help but chuckle, sliding my hands slowly up her sides until one rests gently on her cheek, brushing a thumb over her skin.

"Yeah, sorry about that," I say, my voice low, tinged with a hint of guilt, but I can’t seem to let her go. My need to be close to her, to feel her warmth, is overwhelming everything else right now.

She bites her lip, glancing away, the hesitation clear on her face. But my fingers trace the line of her jaw, gently guiding her face back toward mine. "I need you," I say softly, my voice raw with longing. My hand cups her face as I lean down, pressing my lips against the curve of her neck, then biting my way down, savoring the way her breath catches each time my teeth graze her skin.

"Please, baby," I whisper against her neck, my voice almost pleading, "I need you so fucking bad."

She lets out a shaky sigh, her fingers curling into my shirt. "Kuna, we shouldn’t," she whispers, her words barely audible, as if she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this; part of me is painfully aware of how wrong it is to mess with her mind like this, to sleep with her when we’re both standing on shaky ground, barely able to hold each other up. But the ache in my chest, the hollow feeling I’ve been trying to drown in anything but my own thoughts, is too much to bear alone tonight.

"Just... let me forget for a little while," I murmur, my hands sliding down her sides, tracing every curve.

I pull her shirt over her head and slowly kiss my way up her body until I'm staring into her eyes.

"You... you look......... like you want......." she pants. "Like you want to eat me."

Cause I fucking do. God…

"I have never... wanted anyone... more than I want you, right now," I whisper, my lips brushing against her ear. It feels intimate as I press my body against hers and then roll my stomach in a slow grind that almost feels like I'm fucking her. I do it twice more, hissing as she shivers with pleasure.

The whimpers. Fuck me... The whimpers. Fuck I forgot how she sounds. It’s been a month.

I kissed my way down her body this time, taking one of my hands to firmly grip her jaw to keep her focused on me “Eyes on me princess.” 

I realize her jaw once I’m sure she focuses on me. I slipped her shorts off, revealing her soaked cunt. 

I spread her legs open, while I slid lower down the bed. I push her legs back “Hold these and you better not drop them, pretty girl.” I slide my tongue from her clit to her close, slowly then around her inner lips. I swirl my wet tongue around her clit 

ONCE! TWICE! THRICE!

"Fuck daddyyy-"! I hear her say. I smile a bit going a bit lower to her hole, I spit, almost drool onto her pussy and slurp up her juices. I feel her wetting my face more. I slip a finger in then another. 

“Kuna, please…please fuck me” she whined, begged.

Fuck she’s…I forgot how sweet her taste is. How sweet she sounds. 

“ FUCK... keep doing THAT... I love the way you beg. Love the way you say my name.”

I slowly suck my way back up to her clit once more, dropping a quick nibble on it causing her to pull away from me. I wrap my arms around her hips and pull her back down and keep my grip on her.

“Come on yn. Don’t run from it. I don’t play that.”

I continue sucking on her clit. I add in one finger then another. I listen to her moans echo through her bedroom. Her pleas in my ears for more…

Or is it to slow down? Fuck either way, the way she sounds is gonna make me bust.

I thrust my fingers in and out faster, the way her my pussy is wet and the squelching sounds it’s making. I stop for a moment staring at her pussy saying “talk to me some more.”

I feel yn’s body get tense under me. That doesn’t stop me. I suck on her clit harder. I arch my fingers upwards grazing her g spot. 

“Su….kuna please please please…ouu fuck..right there…please!”

I slow down causing yn to practically scream at me. “Sorry princess” i smirked

I picked up the speed again this time switching to tongue fuck her while i play with her clit. 

Yn’s moans grew louder, while she grew wetter. Her back arched off the bed, well she attempted to but he pulled her back in, almost stifling me completely. 

I feel her tightened around my tongue then I feel her all over my face. I smiled but I didn’t stop. I kept at it like a crack addict. Switching my mouth and fingers between her clit and her hole. She was fighting and twitching under me.

“Too much Kuna…please…you’re too much”

“Daddy please…Oh fuck! I can’t”

“Mmm gonna cum again..please…”

“Fuck mm coming…Kuna. Sukuna! Shiitt! Oh God.”

I release her legs to strip off my clothes. I watch her stretch her hand and stroke my dick. 

I'm hopeless for her. Fuck! I hope she doesn’t replace me in her life

 "God, I fucking love you," I groan, finally thrusting into her slick cunt, feeling it envelop me. Her cunt grip my dick and her legs are already shaking.

"Please," she gasps, biting her lip as she meets me thrust for thrust.

I swear to god, I could fuck you to death right now... Never been so fucking horny. 

I grab her hips to stop her from taking over.  “Just let me put in the work princess”

 I pushed myself inside her again, going all the way to the hilt—

My voice thick with desire, I confess my innermost desires, "I need you. I've always needed you, even when I pushed you away." 

I slid my hand up her body grabbing her throat, watching the lust and fucked out state all over her face. I watch her smile at me with that devious look in her eyes. The look I’ve missed in so long.

Her pussy is gonna be the death of me..Or is it her love. Maybe both

I release her throat, sliding my hands down her chest pulling on her nipples one by one, I slowly drag my hand lower, and lower until it’s on her stomach. I push down on it and angle my body slightly off to the side, picking up the pace more. 

Thwop Thwop Thwop! The sounds of her skin against mine, mine against hers became louder. “Kuna! Oh…fuck me please…harder!” Y’n is grinding up against her harder than before. 

This is fucking with my head.

"Please... don't... you're breaking me, Yn….fuck!” "I love you. Please..." my frenzied thrusts, driven by madness…maybe lust…or loss…

Fuck I need a smoke right now. 

My eyes were scanning her room trying to distract myself.

“Top draw on your left” yn moaned

“Huh..Fuck baby you’re killing me here..ss..wet and tight.” I groaned out. 

“You…fuck!...cigarettes top draw Kuna.” 

Am I that obvious..Jesus

I pulled out reach for the top draw and fished around, saw a pre rolled joint sitting in the ashtray and decided to take that instead. I quickly lit it up and took a deep drag exhaling then another. I leaned down to yn’s face talking slowly. “I need you yn…fuck. I really do.”

I flipped her over onto her stomach and arched her back nic for me. I took another hit feeling the thc slowly running through my veins. I eased inside her again

I’m slower this time around, “Throw it back on me baby. Take what’s yours. It’s your dick. You know that” I pull her hips back against her everytime she throws it back on me. 

“Oh my FUCKING god,” she cries out, her mouth hanging open as it hits her, rolling her under a wave of pleasure so pure and perfect, even I can feel it. Her body jerks, pussy spasming around my dick.

“Not done with your ass yet yn.” I wrap my hands around her hair and turn her face to the side, then press my body against her back pushing her into the prone bone/ collapsed doggy position. I take another pull of the joint before down and kiss her slowly exhaling all the smoke into her mouth.

 “Take me baby.” pulls out “I know I’ve been stupid these past weeks. Maybe even more” Thrusts in “I love you yn. Please baby. Anything but this.” pulls out “I love you, you matter to me” 

"I've been a fucking mess, Yn. Trying to protect you, trying to be the man you deserve. But I've been failing at both." 

I should shut up. Not say these things. I’ll make it worse

As I continue to move within her, my voice takes on a desperate tone. "I know I'm not good enough for you, but I can't bear the thought of losing you. You're mine, Yn. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you by my side. but you deserve so much better than me."

"My feelings are so twisted up,"

Leaning down, I whisper into her ear, "Why do you want to leave me, Yn? Why end it like this?" I murmur, pulling out briefly before thrusting back in. My words, a mix of desperation and possessiveness. 

“Cause..Fuck- fuck fuck fuck s’too deep- hngh” 

“Nah, ss not deep enough…I know you can handle more.” I sit back on the bed in a kneeling position pulling her hips with me Smack! I grip her ass in my palm, spreading it apart to spit on her cunt from the back. 

I push her head down into the mattress and rut into her.

Mine... You're mine, princess... Every time you move, I want you to feel it. To ache with it. To be reminded that you fucking belong to me…

I flip her back over onto her back wanting to stare into her warm brown eyes. I push my fingers into her mouth. The ones I had inside her, coated with the evidence of her desire. I grab the headboard to give myself more leverage.

Bed squeaking

Sounds of skin slapping, unsticking and slapping against skin

Smell of weed and sex in the air

It’s enough to almost put me over the edge. ALMOST!

Fuck baby... I'm gonna cum...she groans

Her body clenches around me, and that's all it takes.

"Oh god, oh god, oh GOD," she cries out.

"Yes,.. fuck yes...," I groan.

"Oh my gawwwwwd..." i feel her buck under me, trying to pull away from me, I pull her back down to me again

So close, baby... I'm so fucking close...

"So good... So fucking good...," I growl.

“Just take it..... Please, fucking take it.” I feel tighten around me, Her body clenches around me, and that's all it takes to push me over the edge

“I know love, I know. I’m almost there.” I groan, pulling back and thrusting again each thruster harder and deeper than the last. 

There's nothing better than this... Nothing...

My eyes close and I pull back a little, thrusting one, final, time.

I watch Y/N slowly drift off beside me, her breaths steady, her face softened, and for a second, I reach out, wanting to pull her close again. But she shifts, pulling away from me.

Y/N… please. Don’t do this now.

“Y/N,” I say, my voice low, barely holding steady.

Her eyes flick open, tired and worn. "Sukuna," she says softly, like she's already miles away. "Your stuff is in the living room. Please take it... and leave."

I feel something shatter inside me, something small but crucial, and I can barely keep my voice from breaking. "Y/N, ple—"

“Just get out!” Her voice is sharp, cutting through the quiet. I freeze, the final crack resounding through whatever was left of my heart.

They say bad things come in threes… or was it good things? Right now, I can’t remember anymore.

"Okay," I whisper, barely getting the word out. That's all I can manage.

I get up, get dressed, and head to the door where she left my stuff. I pick up the boxes and take one last look around her apartment. And then I walk out, closing the door softly behind me, knowing damn well there’s no coming back from this.

Down the hallway, down the stairs, step by step until I reach my car. I toss the boxes into the back seat, close the door, and finally slump into the driver’s seat. I don’t even reach for the keys—I just sit there, the weight of it all pressing down until I feel my lungs start to tighten, my hands starting to shake.

No, not now. Not here.

I close my eyes, hoping to calm myself down before the panic sets in, but it’s useless. My heart races, breaths coming short, shallow. I try to breathe slowly, but my chest feels tight, like it’s caving in on itself.

I sit there, arms wrapped around myself, as memories crash through my mind like a brutal tide—Jin’s smirk, my grandfather’s steady hands, Y/N’s quiet smile in the morning sunlight. I feel like I’m drowning in them, pulled under one after another, unable to surface.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. How did I fuck it up this badly?

But no answer comes, just the silence and the dark, swallowing me whole.

The quiet stretches around me, wrapping me in a thick fog of despair. I try to steady my breathing, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles ache, but nothing seems to break the emptiness that has seeped into my bones. I sit there, feeling my pulse hammering in my ears, my head swimming with fragments of memories—Jin laughing at some joke he’d cracked, Grandpa teaching me how to tie a tie, Y/N looking up at me that first night we met, her eyes bright with mischief and something I’d been too damn scared to name.

How did I get here? How did I end up so alone?

The night stretches on, thick with silence, and I feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of everything I’ve lost. I take a breath, forcing myself to stay grounded, to push back the panic clawing its way up my throat.

I reach for my phone, my fingers trembling as I open my contacts and scroll to her name. I stare at it, the screen glowing in the dark, my thumb hovering over the call button. Part of me wants to reach out, to hear her voice just one more time, but I know it’ll only make things worse. She doesn’t want to hear from me—not after tonight. Not after everything I’ve done.

Let her go, Sukuna. Just… let her go.

I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and close my eyes, pressing my forehead against the steering wheel. The emptiness is overwhelming, the silence heavy, and I can feel the despair sinking its claws into me, dragging me under.

They’re all gone now. Jin, Grandpa… Y/N. What am I even fighting for anymore?

I take a shuddering breath, feeling the pain sear through me, raw and unfiltered. I sit there for what feels like hours, lost in the darkness, my mind spinning as I grapple with the realization that I’ve driven away everyone I’ve ever cared about. The regret is a bitter taste in my mouth, choking me.

Eventually, I manage to start the car, the engine rumbling to life, but the sound feels hollow, distant. I grip the wheel and pull out of the parking spot, driving aimlessly through the empty streets, my thoughts drifting as I try to numb the ache gnawing at me from the inside out.

Streetlights blur past, the city stretching out in a maze of empty roads and darkened windows, and for the first time, I realize how truly alone I am.

This is it,

I think bitterly.

This is what’s left. Just me… and a hollow, empty shell of everything I thought I had.

As I drive, the memories claw at me, and I let them, sinking into the pain, embracing it. Maybe, if I let myself feel it now, I’ll finally be able to let it all go.

[prettynice8]

Kinkmas Day 19: Spanking

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x male reader

This guy

Warnings: Kissing, no actual sexy times, jealousy, marking, funishment, BDSM? spanking DUH

Word count: 1147

You were just having a normal conversation with Yuji, who's probably the sweetest person you know.

"I fucking hate that geriatric fuck of a principal." You stated sourly, referring to the Kyoto school's principal, the weird guitar dude.

"He is pretty weird." Yuji agreed, not quite sharing your fiery hatred of the man.

"That whole Kyoto school is pretty weird, except for Todo I don't like any of them." You exclaimed.

"You like Todo?" he asked, surprised that you would like someone such as him.

"He's a silly guy, and hot, just a loveable teddy bear that I want to plow me." You said bluntly and with a straight face. It was after this declaration of thinking someone is kind of attractive is when Megumi appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"Who's hot?" Megumi asked a little too quickly.

"Just Todo." You responded.

"Why?" He questioned again, "He's just a big fanboy who's dumber than rocks."

"Big being the operative word here." You said, catching Megumi off guard.

"He still calls me his brother; I don't know what's up with that." Yuji said.

"Well clearly not, compared to you he looks like a hunchback." You joked, causing both you and Yuji to giggle, while Megumi's face remained emotionless, maybe even a tad frustrated.

"No one compares to your beauty." Yuji joked back, bringing up even more laughter.

"Period." You said, then snapping your fingers. This causes Yuji to burst out into laughter, even gaining a smile from Megumi.

"Straight boys like you love me when I do that." You exclaimed, referring to Yuji.

"Bold of you to assume I'm straight." Yuji said before kissing your cheek, causing you to unknowingly blush. That's when Megumi breaks his long-standing silence.

"That reminds me why I'm over here. Y/N, could you come with me?" Megumi asked, seeming semi upset.

"What about Yuji saying, 'Bold of you to assume I'm straight' and then kissing me reminds you of coming over here?" You asked, a little snicker coming from Yuji in the background.

"Just come with me." Megumi demanded before grabbing your arm, pulling you away from poor sweet Yuji.

"Holy shit fine, got the message." You said, Megumi is still pulling you along with him.

"Goodbye Pookie." Yuji called out as you were being dragged away.

"Byesie daisies, love of my life." You called back, causing you both to giggle at each other, this also makes Megumi hold on to your arm tighter and walk faster.

"So, what did you want?" You asked. Megumi stays silent, just dragging you along with him to who knows where and to do who knows what, hopefully fucking.

You were a bit of a man whore, having mini crushes on Yuji, Megumi, Yuta, and even your teacher Gojo. If any of those men made a move, you would be putty in their hands, which is exactly what you are when Megumi brings you to his room and instantly shuts the door, slams you against the wall, and begins to kiss you roughly.

You obviously reciprocate, hands already going to undo the buttons of his shirt, but he stops you after only popping the first two.

"Stop." He ordered simply, holding your hands between his own. "You need to be punished."

"Punished?" You questioned, looking at him with your hand, now gone from his grasp, resting on your popped hip. "We're not in Fifty Shaded of fucking Gray here."

"Shut up." He said simply, which you obey, already getting caught up in his dick sand.

He then proceeds to pull up his comfy spinny chair, sitting down on it and gesturing for you to get on his lap, which you do quickly. He returns to kissing you, his tongue entering your mouth.

He dominates your tongue with ease, even putting it between his teeth and lightly biting it. He then takes your tongue out of his mouth and proceeds to go down to your neck.

He leaves light kisses throughout, with the occasional lick or two. For such an anti-social weirdo he really seems like he knows what he's doing, which is only further proven when his light kisses turn into rough bites.

He wants people to know who you belong to, and they will after he's done with you.

Megumi then flips you over, so your stomach is on his legs, your pants are also gone, all of which happening within an instant and before you could even tell what's going on.

"Wha-" He cuts you off.

"Like I said, you need to be punished for being such a fucking slut." He's rubbing your bare ass all the while, not that you're complaining.

He does this for a while until suddenly and without warning slaps your ass the force of a truck. You scream from the pain, though not just because it hurts. A bright red handprint starts to form on your left cheek. He goes back to rubbing your ass sensually, almost as if he didn't just hit you there mere seconds earlier.

"Told you." Which is all Megumi says before going straight back to slapping your other cheek. You scream even louder this time because his slap was even harder, if that's even possible.

"Ready?" Megumi asked, catching you off guard since he didn't ask the two times he previously did this. You answer with a nod, but that's not good enough for him. "Use your words."

"Yes." You answered quickly. That's all Megumi needs before going back to slapping you bare ass, this time going one spank after another.

He almost has a rhythm with it, going one after the other in perfect timing. The sounds of his spanking, along with your screaming/moaning fill the room and probably the hallway. His slaps are truly relentless.

At first it just hurt like a bitch, maybe a slight undertone of sexual pleasure, but now you are moaning your ass off, literally. Tears begin to form in your eyes from the pain of his continuous slaps.

You start to think that it will never end, both terrifying and exciting. You belong to belief all at once. But sadly(?), he stops his force of 1,000 supernova spankings.

Megumi sensually rubs your completely red and sensitive ass, putting it back on his lap as he wipes the tears from your eyes.

"Did you learn your lesson?" He asked, giving you a kind smile that completely contrasts what he was just doing.

"Fuck off." You started before getting up and off his lap, heading out the door, but before you did you offered a wink to Megumi and then kissed his cheek. "Hopefully."

He begins to blush, his confident persona totally forgotten at your act of affection.

You walk into the hallway, walking down to your own room, rubbing your sore and hurt ass. That's when Yuji runs into you.

"What the fuck happened?" He asked.

THE END

[hugjakee]

18+ JISUNG “CUDDLE SESSIONS”

[male reader. mentions of readers genitalia]

Minors dni. Im serious. If explicit content makes you uncomfortable plz do not read.

Jisung as a top dom/ during "cuddle sessions"

He loves to pull you from your waist and nuzzle his face in between your neck and shoulder. While he just toys with you. Touching you all over.

"Ji—sung..." you cried out.

"Your body, so numb from the feeling of his hands trailing to your already hard and sensitive nipples."

He loves the sight of the lewd faces you make, while he flicks and twists your nubs. It makes his ego loom crazy.

"You know, if only you listened to me...you wouldn't have to be in the position you are right now, but, because you're such a brat, you deserve this...no begging out of it now." You heard the smirk that was painted on his lips, upon his words.

This just made everything much more intense.

"You wanted more...You desperately grinded yourself against Jisung, but just as you made your sudden movements, he roughly gripped your hips."

Whenever Jisung does something like this, he's always so eager to just fuck you over. Break you.

That's always his ultimate goal until you can't form coherent sentences and just cling to him, crying into his ears and whining.

"Y/n—oh you already came... I didn't even touch you—heh, and I didn't permit you to cum yet. You are a Slut."

—

This sudden cuddle session, if you even call it that, soon turned into him, pressing your hand into the pillow while he pounds into your red swollen hole.

"fuck, y/n, you're so tight— fuck you're clenching, s-so hard.."

The feeling building up in the pit of your stomach was all too familiar, your legs couldn't keep up with the fast pace and the weight of your body. You were falling limp under Jisung. You were exhausted after cumming for the third time.

"jisung...w—wait! I'm gonna cum again—slower! Ugh!" "Keep up baby, I'm not done with you yet."

Jisung is a top sub/ during "cuddle sessions"

You were relaxed when you had the other on top of you. It was always the comfort of him being so close to you, that made you feel secure.

It was an intimate and emotional moment between the two, always. No words had to be said, just the feeling of being together brought the feeling of security and contentment.

But those moments never stopped Jisung with the feelings he felt..couldn't keep, those feelings in...

It was always a certain type of pleasure every time you guys had such an intimate moment together. And the feeling of wanting to continue that pleasure was unbearable. Every chance he got, he took it.

"Y/n, please I need you right now.."

Jisung always looked at you with such a desperate expression, eyebrows furrowed and flushed cheeks. Sweat beads dripped from his eyebrows, chest heaved up and down, almost as if he was out of breath.

A visible tent in the crotch area of his pants.

"Please? Can I..?" Jisung hovered over you with a desperate look. You couldn't back down. This led to Jisung grinding on you, whilst he moaned your name.

Moving your hands up his body, under his shirt, hold his lower back to help guide him.

"Baby, come on take these off." You groaned out. you'd admit, you were always desperately wanting him, one way or another.

His dick was covered in his slickness, and the pre cum coated his fiery red tip. "Here—help me take mine off."

—

"Ahhh y-y/n! Fuck, rig—there!" Jisung straddles your lap while you thrust upwards. You had your hands placed on his waist, helping him hold his position while he fucked himself on you.

You felt him trembling, you knew how close he was. Speeding up the thrusting, all you could think about was the pleasure you get out of overstimulating Jisung. And how satisfying it was, especially after jerking him off while fucking him.

"AH! y—y/n, nu-no! Too much.." he could barely form clear sentences, his eyes shut, bottom lip caught in between his teeth, subsiding his moans.

Just in a mere moment, his load shoots out, landing on your chest.

—

"Sungie, did I go too hard?" Jisung disagreed with a small "nuh uh".

You love the sight of his sleepy face after sex, it was the cutest thing ever. And all you could do at that moment was be as gentle as possible with him.

[zep-zep-blog]

Im back from the dead yall. I got this idea from @timeslugarts ^^ Go give them a follow for their amazing art! Hope yall enjoy!

Vox x gn!reader

Genre:Fluff | Cw: death, car crash, hospital mention

☆Devilish Love☆

Darkness. That's all you could remember until you wake up in this fiery hellscape. In reality, you were hit by a drunk driver and was in a coma back on Earth with family crying at your bedside, but your soul was trapped here. In the underworld of sinners that were repenting for their crimes.

You wandered the streets, looking around at the different sinners, demons, and other wayward souls. That is until you ran face first into someone, that being a tall man(?) if you could even call him that. He had a tv as a face for crying out loud. "Watch it." He said in a voice that was common in late 50's shows, his voice was sharp and boomed. Ofcourse you squeaked out an apology, but it wouldn't be the last. As you ran into him several times, even getting into arguements with him.

Over time, you did grow close. You stopped arguing with him less often and he offered to let you stay at his place. Soon his roommates, Valentino and Velvette grew to accept you and noticed how much romantic tension there was. You hung around him like a lost puppy, helping him with paperwork or his various shows he produces. This did lead to some issues though, as one day you had accidentally mixed up the scripts for one of the shows and you got into an argument. You and Vox had argued for almost 2 hours, but he finally cracked and impulsively kissed you on the lips.

That kiss had spiraled into you being his right hand, his assistant, his second half. You and him ran Voxtech with a iron fist, planning on taking over sinners and hell. He was also planning some ring options behind the scenes, asking Velvette for help on diamond size, band size, even the box color. Little did he know that the doctors in the mortal plane had other ideas.

You stood in the kitchen, messy hair from just waking up and only in one of Vox's more casual shirts and some underwear. He sat at the island, pouring you guys some cereal, you were about to take a spoonful when BAM your gone in a blink of an eye. Vox panicked, going absolutely nuts. Every tv, phone, camera, you name it was spent looking for you. He even went down to the Princess's hotel to demand an answer from Alastor.

"WHERE ARE THEY ALASTOR! I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL TURN YOU INTO VENISON BY THE TIME IM DONE-" He yelled, going berserk at the front door of the hotel. The door opened by Vaggie lunging at him with her spear, but was thankfully stopped by Charlie. "What's going on? What did Alastor do?" She asked with her signature smile. "He took them! I just know he did!" Vox screeched, pointing his finger at the clam and smiling radio demon. Every one turned their heads to look at Alastor, who looked a bit too calm for the situation. "Who?" His staticy voice came off as genuine confusion. "MY SPOUSE YOU STUPID FUCK!" Vox argued. "Who?-" Alastor was cut off by Angel, "Wait. Someone married you?" He asks, "Well, we were going to get married, but-but they just DISAPPEARED!" Vox says desperately, but not wanting to give Alastor any ammo he left. He returned to his office, giving annoyed huffs to Valentino and Velvette's questions.

Meanwhile, you had woken up to a heart moniter beeping and the warm embrace of your mom, hugging and weeping. The smell of hospital had made you more aware of the situation. Was..was that all a dream? You weren't exactly the perfect person, but having a dream about falling inlove in hell was a bit much for your human mind. Eventually, years had passed and you had lived a single life with a few pets for company, never getting over that dream until your death. Unfortunately, time in hell is different, while almost 30 years had passed since that car crash it had only been a few months for Vox. He had lashed out and never stopped searching. He spent all his time balancing finding you, fighting Alastor, and running Voxtech.

You had woken up in the same place 30 years ago, but it didn't look like that time had passed. You were shocked, it wasn't a dream all those years ago. You dashed through the streets looking for the familiar building of your long lost beloved. Soon you reached your destination, zooming through the lobby, but getting caught short by security. You caused a huge scene, cussing and yelling, begging for them to let you see Vox. Velvette alerted him to your outburst and he zapped through the wires to the lobby and froze. It was you, the person he still had the perfectbring for. The person he still made a plate for. The person he hugged a pillow at night to remember the touch of. He ran to you, shouting at the guards to let you go. He hugged you tightly, sharing a few tears as you hugged him back. You missed this, he missed this.

After being reunited he couldn't wait anymore, he eventually proposed with the ring he saved all that time. Sure he waited months, but you waited years and now you both could take over hell together.

[flowersforjude]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | It’s just a job, nothing more. Until it isn’t.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3,008

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Canon typical violence, Injuries, Mutual pining, Joel is like the reader’s personal bodyguard.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Reluctantly protective Joel sure is something. Something I need in my be-

masterlist

This was supposed to be an easy one. Get you from place to place, unharmed and alive; get paid; and then that was that. Easy. 

Except it was anything but. 

Joel’s first impression of you was that you were meek and quiet. He was honestly pleased, thinking this made his job a lot easier. He thought you would follow his orders and just let him take the lead. Cut and dry, right? 

How wrong he was.

He certainly wasn’t expecting your hidden fiery spirit. It only took a few days for your soft-spoken nature to disappear. He got used to your sharp tongue real quick, and while you knew when to really listen to him, he got used to your defiance as well. 

Things started to go wrong as soon as you left the Q.Z. His original plan went to hell, and you were forced to take the long way around. Infected swarmed the short path, and the thought of making this trip even longer set Joel on edge. Bad luck already setting the precedent for the whole trip made him regret taking the damn job in the first place. 

Before the trek even began, he put his walls up with you. He makes it clear he doesn’t do small talk, but that didn’t stop you from asking him a million questions. He answers some of them that he deems logical, but he shuts you down when you ask anything too personal. He doesn’t want you to know him. Doesn’t want to know you. 

But then the inevitable happens. 

You take a hammer to his walls and make the first crack. He’s unable to put his finger on the exact moment you began chipping away at his resolve. 

Maybe it was the night under the stars when he actually allowed himself to hold a conversation with you. The first real one you guys had, nothing like your endless questions and his short, clipped answers. He learned that night that you had a real good sense of humor. 

But then again, it just as well may have been the day you came upon a deer in the woods. He wanted to keep moving, but you were adamant about staying and watching the animal. Joel supposed he understood. He didn’t know how long it’d been since you’d left the Q.Z., so it’d been an eternity since you laid eyes upon anything other than a rat. The longing in your expression hit something in him. He didn’t know why. The world was the way it was. And it wasn’t changing, so why waste your time missing something you could never have again?

Though Joel ate his own words when he realized he wanted to give you what you yearned for. A scene of normalcy, something to ease the sting of your lost life. He couldn’t give you the life you had before the outbreak, but some part of him wanted to try his hardest to give you something close to it. 

That’s why, even when you both had a close call with a few Clickers, he fought his hardest to get you out of there and to the place you were headed. His only hope was to deliver you to something close to normal. 

The Clicker comes out of nowhere; it tackles Joel and slams him to the ground. He goes down with a crack and knows his back will be screaming later. The thing claws at him, ripping the shoulder of his shirt. He’s holding it back as best he can while trying to reach for his knife. Before he can grip the handle, though, a shot rings out. 

Birds fly from the trees, the sound of their wings meeting his ears over the rushing of blood. He shoves the creature off him and pulls himself to his feet. The first thing he sees is you. You stand a few yards away with your gun still held up. Your arms seem to be trembling, and Joel is momentarily stunned. He knew you carried a gun, obviously, but he didn’t know you were such a good shot. He’d never seen you use it, always letting him take care of any threat.  

He’s about to call to you, to say something like, ‘good shooting.” But before he can even open his mouth, another Clicker springs from the treeline. You go down with a shriek, but you're fighting to get free. Joel doesn’t think as he pulls out his gun and starts running. As soon as he’s close enough to guarantee a kill shot, he fires. A second shot rings out, and this time the only sound to be heard are your terrified gasps. 

He’s next to you quicker than he realizes and pulls you up. Your eyes are frantic, zooming around until they land on his face. Relief floods them, and all of a sudden your hands are gripping at him. You take his jaw and turn his head back and forth, your eyes searching him for injuries. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice holds a slight panic. Your hands leave his jaw and trail down his neck, checking there for any bites too. “Did it get you? Are you hurt?” Your worry and the feeling of your hands still on him send tingles through his skin. 

“I’m fine.” He assures you, trying to keep his voice from sounding too gruff. He peels your hands from him but doesn’t let go of them. He conducts his own search of you, checking for any bites or injuries from your fall. “Are you alright?” 

“I think so.” You answer breathlessly. 

He goes to retrieve his pack, which had fallen off in his struggle with the Clicker. You're hot on his heels, putting barely any space between your bodies. When he bends down to pick up the bag, his back screams at him. He winces as he straightens up, a hand going to his lower back. 

You're worrying over him again in an instant. “What’s wrong?” You fret, putting your hand over his. He brushes you off and assures you once again that he’s fine. Your quick-witted attitude comes out in full force as you put on a stern expression. “Well, we should find a place to hunker down for the night. Something’s clearly wrong with your back.” 

He can’t argue with that. It’s easy enough to find a suitable place, barricading yourselves in an old garage of some house. It’s a cold night, though, and even the closed-off garage doesn’t provide enough warmth to keep you from shivering. Joel contemplates moving outside just so he can build a fire, but the threat of more Clickers being in the area stops him. Being cold is better than being dead. 

You're sitting on your bed roll, wrapped up in your blanket, blowing on your hands and rubbing them together. The slight tremble of your form doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“Here,” he offers, motioning for you to slide over a little. He lays his own bed roll right next to yours and sits down. He brings his blanket up over him. “Come under here.” He held the edge of it up. You don’t have to be told twice as you press yourself to his side. With both blankets covering you, and your shared body heat, that should do for the night. 

You fall asleep with your back facing him, your hands tucked under your chin. Joel finds himself staying awake, rationalizing it as keeping watch. He watches you as you breathe in and out. You hum every now and then, like you're talking in your dreams. Soon those peaceful hums turn into frightened gasps. He leans over you, watching your face. You don’t wake up, though your brows are furrowed and your lashes flutter, but your eyes don’t open. 

After a moment, you roll over, facing him. Your hand shoots out, gripping the fabric of his shirt in your fist tightly. Joel doesn’t dare move as you shuffle closer to him, like you’re seeking him out in your dreams. Your face presses itself to his chest, your hand losing some of its tension but still keeping a hold on his shirt. 

That’s when he hears it. 

“Joel.” 

Everything he thought he knew came crashing down with the barely there mumble of his name from your unconscious lips. It’s just his name, it shouldn’t startle him so much. But it came from you, whispered from the deepest recesses of your sleeping mind. 

“Joel.” 

There it is again. A murmured confession that you're looking for him. Searching for him in your rest for a reason Joel can’t decipher. It’s laced with yearning, so much so that he can’t stop himself from winding his arms around you. 

“I’m here, sweetheart.” He quietly answers when you call his name once more. His voice must have reached some deep part of your mind because you finally settled down fully. Sighing a little as you burrow yourself further into his warmth. 

He doesn’t say anything the next morning. Even though you woke with your head resting in the crook of his neck and his arm still caging you to him. He doesn’t say anything about your nighttime hunt for him. He can’t even imagine how that conversation would go. He pictures your flushed cheeks as you stammer your way around an explanation, and he almost changes his mind. But he decides it’s better this way. 

This is just a job.

He doesn’t even believe himself at this point. 

For the rest of the journey, it’s clear something has shifted. Some unknown knowledge hangs between you, but neither of you brings it up. Content with just letting it simmer until it eventually bubbles over and you're forced to deal with it. 

You still glue yourself to him, never leaving more than a few inches between you both. If it had been anyone else, Joel would’ve already barked at them to back up. But it was you, and he found himself relishing in your closeness. He knew soon enough you would reach your destination and be forced to part ways. So, he was going to soak up as much of this as he could. He lets himself indulge in you and your endless sunlight. 

On the last night of the trip, you and he sit across from each other with a fire between you. It was silent as you busied yourselves with eating decades-old canned fruit. The sound of the spoons clinking against the cans drove him crazy. He tried to think of something to say, something meaningful. After all, it is your last night together. But he can’t come up with a damn thing. He’s seriously about to comment on the weather just to fill the silence when you save him. 

“What do you remember the most from before?” 

This is breaking his rule of no small talk. He already knows that if he answers this, things are going to get personal. He answers anyway. “Football games on Sunday. Summer barbecues. My brother and I swimming in our grandfather’s lake.” 

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” You're surprised, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t be. Joel hasn’t exactly been open with you about anything regarding himself. 

He nods. “Yeah, a younger one. Tommy.” 

You seem to peer closer at him over the fire. The orange glow of the flames enveloping your features. “Is he back in Boston?” 

Another question that he wouldn't have answered before. “No, we haven’t talked in a while actually. I don’t know where he is.” He can see the sympathy taking over your face, so he directs the attention away from him. Not ready to open that door with you yet. “What about you? What do you remember the most?”

This brings a smile out of you. “My family going to this cabin by the lake every Fourth of July. Me and my grandma going apple picking.” 

“I was never a big apple fan,” he remarks. 

Your smile grows, and he thinks he’d keep talking all night if you smiled like that again. “Oh, I was. Especially apple pie, my grandma and I would make one every time we went picking.” The light in your face fades a little. You take on this faraway look as you gaze into the flames. Joel gives you time to speak again because he can tell something is on your mind. “Do you think the world will ever be somewhat the same again?” 

That’s one question he absolutely knows the answer to. No. The world is the way it is now, and there’s no going back to what was before. Your only choice was to adapt. But the sorrowful expression on your face made him answer something completely different. 

“I sure hope so.” 

When you finally reach your destination the next day, you find out the person you were meeting was a no-show. You were still welcomed with open arms, though. The people even gave Joel somewhere to stay for the night. Offering him a room to rest his head and supplies for his trip back. He plans on leaving at first light, not wanting to chance seeing you in the morning. If he saw you, it would make things harder than they needed to be. He let himself enjoy your warmth for a while, but the job was done. It was time to get back on track, he told himself. 

He’s stocking his bag when there’s a knock at the door. He’s not expecting to see you standing on the other side, but he’s not surprised. He steps back to allow you to come in, closing the door once you pass him. 

“You need something, sweetheart?” He questions, kicking himself for the nickname. He hadn’t meant for it to slip out. Then again, he hadn't meant for this whole trip to go the way it did. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say quietly. 

“What?” Joel demands. 

“I don’t want you to go.” You repeat, your face is alight with that fire that surprised him so much. 

He can’t help but laugh. He falls short when your face drops. “You know that’s not possible,” he sighed. 

“Why not?” Your voice cracks. He wants to bring you to his chest and make your sadness go away. But he was the cause of your despair, so the sooner he was gone, the better. “Why can’t you stay and just be with me?” You look down at your hands, now knotted together in a nervous tangle. 

“You don’t want me, sweetheart.” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not good for you.” 

“Don’t you think I should be able to decide what’s good for me?” You roll your eyes, your face challenging him. His fierce, spirited girl. His girl. He shoves the thought away. You weren’t his, and you never would be. 

“I’ve got too much—I’m too screwed up.” He crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t know whether or not he does it to protect himself, but it’s something he does when in a confrontation. 

You laugh outright at this. “We’ve all got baggage, Joel.” 

Hearing you voice his name again takes him back to the night you called for him in your sleep. This was harder than he expected, harder than he wanted it to be. He didn’t want to cause you pain. 

He’s about to disagree when you reach for him. Your fingers curl into the flannel he’s wearing, just like when you clutched his shirt that fateful night. He lets you bring him closer to you, letting your eyes bore into his without looking away. His hands take on a mind of their own and plant themselves on your waist. 

“Stay, Joel.” You're so close he can feel your breath hit his lips. It makes his head spin. “Please.” 

He can’t find his words; he can’t find it in himself to argue with you. He knows he’s no good for you. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, but everything screams at him to agree. To stay and keep you close to him for the rest of your lives. 

“Y/N.” He whispers as a final stance against your magnetism. 

“We don’t have to stay here. We can go wherever we want.” You offer, your nose brushing across his. Everything feels warm, and it's almost intoxicating in its intensity. 

“Went through hell just to get here.” He points outs, trying to give you a small grin. 

“I don’t care.” Your hands move up his face to hold his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. As if he wants to look anywhere else. “I’ll follow you anywhere, as long as we’re together.”

“Sweetheart-” 

His protest is lost to your mouth. You kiss him with the same fire that burns inside you. Joel lets the flames consume him, and he thinks as long as you keep kissing him, he’d happily let himself burn in you forever. His hands tighten on your waist as he returns your kiss with equal fervor. He feels himself falling deeper and deeper, like he’s spiraling down the depths of something he’s blocked off for so long. When your arms throw themselves around his shoulders to pull him closer to you, clinging to him like he’s your lifeline, he’s positive that he’d follow you to the ends of the earth. He pulls his mouth from yours to trail his lips over your neck. 

“Please don’t go,” you breathe as he presses a kiss to your pulse point. “Please, Joel.”

He nods against the column of your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin behind your ear. “I’m here, sweetheart,” he sighs out. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

This was just meant to be a simple job, but it turned out to be something so much more than that. It was like an expedition to discover something you both had lost a long time ago. Peace. Companionship. Call it what you will, but he felt damn lucky to have found it again. 

First Joel imagine! I honestly didn't mean for it to be over 3k, but here we are.

[babyhatesreality]

Hey loves! Can you possibly do a Head cannon with mob stucky and reader? How would they be when the reader is sick?

Hey love! So....answering this a year later....ugh, trust me I'm disgusted with myself. I hope you're still around to read this, and if you are, I thank you for sticking with me while I went through it this past year. I hope you enjoy <3

So with Mafia Stucky and Little Reader, when you're sick, there is a very calculated plan to get you better.

The trouble is, you're terrified of doctors after all those mean doctors held you captive before your Mafia Daddies could rescue you. You still trembled at the sight of a white lab coat, even after all this time.

So at the first sign of a sniffle or a sore throat, they call in their "guy"

You know him as Mr. Bruce, the really nice man in the purple silk shirt who tells you really silly jokes and talks to you sometimes when you're feeling icky

They know him as Dr. Banner, their on call physician who has been threatened within an inch of his life to not tell you that he's a doctor

Banner has no problem with this arrangement. He enjoys working for Steve and Bucky, as his...issues with rage, let's say....have gotten him in trouble in other locations, and Stucky has given him a full time job with incredible benefits where he still can practice medicine and science.

So what if the majority of his work is now stitches and tending to bullet wounds? He's still helping people, right?

And he genuinely loves you. He was one of the ones to help Steve and Bucky "get you out" of your kidnapped situation, and he was the one quietly monitoring your health as you came out of the haze that the drugs had put you in. He spent a lot of time caring for you and came to see you as a baby sister of sorts. He was extremely protective and fond of you.

Bruce has gotten extremely good at being able to just talk to you and diagnose what the problem is, because you trust him enough to be honest with him about how you're feeling

If there's an occasion where he needs a saliva sample, he's designed special lollipops that taste delicious- AND melt quickly. He simply pockets the stick when you're done and you have no idea.

If he needs a blood sample, that's a bit more complicated. That's when the strawberry milk comes out and you take a nice nap. You'll wake up later to find a little itchy spot on your arm, but that's really about it.

Once Bruce has diagnosed you, he'll quietly talk through a game plan with one of your Daddies while the other one is cuddling and cradling you in the other room.

You don't have any big issues with taking medicine- after all, your daddies are giving it to you and they always know what they're doing, so you don't question it.

You hate cough syrup with a fiery passion. More than once you've straight up refused to take it or spat it back out repeatedly, resulting in a spanking after you get better, but since Bruce figured out a way to mask the taste in a candy, it's not nearly as much of a battle as it used to be.

Mostly, you just crave cuddles and attention. And Steve and Bucky are more than happy to give it to you.

Their team knows just how sick you are by how Stucky rearranges their schedules. If you have a cold, they will NOT get them at the same time until you're better. If you have something a little rougher, like a stomach flu, don't expect to see either of them until you're back on your feet. If it's something like pneumonia, it's about to become everyone's only problem for the foreseeable future. They will ALL be on call twenty four seven. God help them if they think any differently.

Steve likes to carry you around everywhere, even if it's just from the bed to the bathroom. He doesn't want you wasting a bit of energy on something as trivial as walking- it should all go towards you getting better.

Half of his pockets are loaded with your medication, and the other half are full of little toys and expensive trinkets and sparkly jewelry to reward you for being good and staying down and taking your medicine.

Bucky anticipates your every need before it even happens. You shiver once, and he's already wrapped a blanket around you. Your face looks a bit flushed, and he's gently pressing a cool washcloth to your forehead, murmuring about what a good girl you are. He's holding up a tissue to your nose before you even realize you have to sneeze.

They will let you have unlimited screen time, watching all your favorite movies and TV shows with you- as long as they've approved them, of course.

You also get to eat pretty much anything you want (unless it's a stomach illness), since you really don't want to eat when you don't feel well. They'll let you have almost anything to ensure that you're still eating enough to get better.

Every morning, they carry you to another new room in the mansion, with clean fresh sheets and new things to do, since you get very bored very quickly, especially after a whole day in bed. Hell, what else are they gonna do with the twenty guest rooms in the house? The cleaning crew then sanitizes the previous room in a whirl, just in case you decide you want to go back in there.

Steve and Bucky cuddle you and constantly tell you what a good girl you are, and how proud they are to be your daddies, and just how much better their lives are now because you're in them.

And honestly? That heals you faster than anything else.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 5

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

Curtis takes your plate and empty glass. The tension thickens as your impatience mounts. You really just want to get out of here. You want to go home and wash the night off of you.

You struggle to come up with a smooth exit line so you grab your phone. You have a voicemail from Andy. You hit one to listen to it and put the speaker to your ear. It’s the typical far, call back if you’re available to come in. You really don’t feel like it but it would be a good excuse. Too bad you’re a bad liar.

You hit delete and lean your arm against the side of the couch.

“Boss calling again? Sure seems desperate.”

You look at Curtis sharply, once more frightened by his silent entrance. Your lips part as you weigh the lie on the tip of your tongue. You just want to go, no need to make it that complicated.

You stand up and squeeze your phone tight, pressing it against your skirt, “thanks for breakfast.”

“Yeah, no problem, it was good?”

“Very, uh,” you gaze around and try to wet your dry mouth, “it was nice. All of it, but I should get go–”

“I can drive you home,” he offers, “I’d hate for you to waste the money on a cab.”

“N-no, that’s… that’s fine. I couldn’t–”

“You know, you don’t have to go right away,” he gets closer, “I don’t know…” he’s right in front of you, closing you in by the couch, “I had fun, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yeah,” your words squeak thinly, “but I…”

“We could have a bit more,” his eyes plunge down hungrily.

“I… right,” you giggle softly, nervously, “I really think I should shower–”

“I have a shower,” he insists. “Come on, Bunny,” he reaches out to pinch a fold in your skirt, “just a little more…”

“Curtis, I… you’re a really nice guy…”

“And…” he brings his other hand up and frames your hip, his eyes stormy as he watches how he touches you, “...I got a really nice…” he urges you back until your legs touch the front of the sofa, “mouth…”

He squeezes your hips and sits you down. You find it hard to resist as his warmth swallows you and his thumbs press into you, sending a fiery twang through you. You catch yourself against the couch and gasp.

His hands quickly glide down and he bunches up your skirt in his fists. He squeezes and gives a growl. You spread your hands across the fabric to keep him from pushing it higher.

“Curtis, please,” your voice warbles, “I don’t–”

“Please,” he bats his dark lashes up at you, “I’m not ready to let you go, bunny.”

“I…”

You don’t know what to say. You’re tired, you feel dirty, and quite frankly, you’re not sure how much more you can take. More, deep down, you’re a bit scared. He’s awake now, he’s sober, he’s seen you, and you’re just waiting for him to realise what you are.

“I want a taste, bunny,” he leans forward to nuzzle your chest, “Can I…”

You’re frozen. Your fingers tingle and wiggle, your heart hammers, and your head spins. You’ve never had a guy act this way with you. Insatiable, almost desperate.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he trails a hand up to cup your chest, “Didn’t I tell you that?” He fondles you and kisses your chest through your shirt. “You want me to tell you again, you’re so beautiful, so sexy…”

He squeezes your chest and nudges your back against the couch. He bends his neck as his other hand inches up your thigh, parting it from the other. Your leg twitches and you hold your breath. Protests shriek in your head but they just won’t come out.

He flips up your skirt and you let out a pathetic noise. You clutch the pleating of your skirt and the cushion beside you. He bows and you feel his breath as he opens you up to him. You watch him, a vibrant sensation rolls over you and it’s as if you’re both trapped in your own body and watching yourself from afar.

His fingers flutter along your folds and exhales over you, his heat dampening the trim of hair along your cunt. He spreads you with his rough touch and glides his tongue between your lips. He flicks down your clit and back up, swirling around your cluster of nerves until you buck. You moan as ripples radiate from your core.

“Please…” you give one last weak plea.

“You’re so good, baby,” he speaks to your cunt, his lips tickling you, “fucking delicious, you know that?”

He spreads his tongue and tastes you, lapping as his other hand grips your side. His long thumb digs into your stomach as he holds you in place. You quiver as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks, pressure pinpointing at your most tender spot. You whine and stretch your hand over the soft hair at his crown.

He hums and delves into your more eagerly. He wiggles his head empathically as the noise of his mouth underlines your droning mewls. You sink back into the couch, almost vibrating as you’re overcome by his diligent doting.

[thedamselzelda]

Snake Eyes and Bloody Lies

Featuring: Dazai Osamu

Summary: Shadows of the past dance in the neon glow of the Starlight Casino. As buried secrets resurface, a night of glamour spirals into a web of things unsaid and lethal encounters. In this high-stakes game, the truth becomes the most dangerous bet of all.

word count: 7.9k, fem!reader, pm!reader, sfw (mild cursing), use of other names for reader (Izanami, Bella, etc.), use of Italian (though I don't speak it/ use of good ole Google Translate so I'm sorry if I offend anyone), slightly proofread

Author Chat: Holy hell guys, I am SO sorry this took way longer to get out than I originally intended. It's also WAY longer than I had originally thought in my head, but alas what you imagine isn't written out and so on. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this part!

previous part ~ next part | DBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

The click of heels against concrete echoed through the stairwell as you and Chūya descended into the dimly lit basement. The air grew cooler with each step, carrying a faint musty scent that tickled your nose.

As you reached the bottom, Chūya let out a low whistle, followed by a chuckle. He called your name, his voice tinged with amusement. "Would ya look at that? It's a great view. I'd say it even rivals a masterpiece worth ten billion."

"Yeah," you replied with a soft laugh, raising your hands to frame the sight before you between your fingers like a photographer composing a shot. "It is a pretty sight."

While Chūya was admiring the scene for his own reasons, you couldn't help but appreciate the view of Osamu chained up, looking slightly disheveled. His usually immaculate appearance was marred by a few wrinkles in his shirt and a few strands of hair out of place. It was evident that someone had already paid him a visit, and true to form, Osamu had likely provoked them. Despite his predicament, he managed to flash you a charming smile, trying to ignore Chūya's presence. However, the fiery redhead quickly made his way over to Osamu, causing his face to contort into a look of disgust.

You remained on the last step of the stairs, leaning against the cool concrete wall. The rough surface pressed against your back through your clothes, grounding you in the moment. Just before you'd come down, Chūya had promised not to kill Osamu, acknowledging its importance to you. However, as Chūya shrugged off his jacket and tossed it back to you with a fluid motion, it suddenly became apparent that he wasn't going to let this opportunity for payback slip through his fingers.

You shifted uncomfortably, the fabric of Chūya's jacket soft against your hands as you clutched it tightly. When Chūya landed a punch on Osamu that seemed to genuinely catch him off guard, you instinctively took a step forward, concern flashing across your face. However, you froze in place when you caught Osamu's subtle cue - a slight twitch of his fingers and his eyes darting meaningfully towards you. You sighed, realizing the implications. All part of the plan, huh?

Osamu's voice echoed in your mind, a memory of his earlier instructions: You're going to have to let the slug just do what he wants. He won't hurt me too much. Not with the letter I sent. Especially… not with you there.

As the confrontation unfolded, Chūya occasionally glanced back at you, perhaps gauging your reaction. Though you couldn't make out their words over the pounding of your heart, you didn't need to hear them. Osamu had already briefed you on the gist of what would transpire.

You watched as Osamu's lips moved, no doubt delivering some cutting remark designed to provoke Chūya further. The effect was immediate - Chūya's body tensed, his hand flying to his knife. In a flash of movement that made you flinch, he slammed the blade into the wall beside Osamu's head, the sharp edge barely grazing his cheek.

As Chūya turned and began stalking towards you, his eyes blazing with a mix of satisfaction and lingering anger, you finally stepped off the last stair. Your heels clicked against the concrete floor as you moved to meet him, your posture straightening as you prepared to play your part in this dangerous game of deception.

"Have fun?" you remarked with a smirk as you approached, holding out his coat. Chūya snatched the cloth from you as he gritted his teeth in frustration, glaring at you.

Osamu interjected smoothly, "It's funny. 'Chūya driven out of the organization because of me' had a nice ring to it, too."

Chūya whirled back, shooting you an unappreciative glance. "Wait. You two! You were both playin' me! Fuckin' bitch."

You let out a huff, placing your hands on your hips as you faced him. "Now, now, Chūya. I let you beat up my boyfriend because of your weird dynamic, and this is the thanks I get?"

Osamu's low chuckle grew closer as he reached your side, his presence a comforting warmth. "Leave her be, Chūya. She only helped a little." He idly toyed with the knife in his hand, the blade catching the light. "Besides, this was a reunion long in the making for the three of us. It was only fair to have a surprise of this caliber."

Chūya whipped around, his auburn hair flying as he turned his back on you both. "I'm gonna kill you both one day, I swear."

"Oh, by the way," Osamu smirked, glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Didn't you see Chūya break the chains and let me free?"

You tapped a finger against your lips, feigning thoughtfulness. "I do think I recall seeing that, yeah. So, if you were to run away now, he'd be the one on the chopping block for it."

"WHAT?!" Chūya spun back around, his face contorted with rage. "You bastard!"

Ignoring Chūya's outburst, you dramatically leaned towards Osamu. "But couldn't you just make it look like someone from the Agency came and rescued you?"

Osamu rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, affecting a lazy demeanor. "I mean... I could... but that sounds like a lot of work."

Chūya's eyes narrowed as he looked pointedly at Osamu. "And why would I believe you, the pathological liar?"

"I don't lie in these kinds of negotiations. I think you know that." Osamu's voice was steady as he casually tossed the knife back to Chūya, who caught it with practiced ease despite his anger.

Chūya was visibly livid, his fury directed not only at Osamu but at you as well. His fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to contain his temper. "Fuckin' hell... Just what'd ya want?"

Osamu slid his hands into his pockets, his posture relaxed. "It's as I said earlier."

You crossed your arms as Chūya glanced at you, then closed his eyes in exasperation. "Why would you ask me when she knows too?"

Osamu gave you an expressive look. The two of you had your suspicions, but with every mafia member keeping their lips sealed, you lacked the definitive location of the information Osamu required.

You shrugged, your voice casual. "All I know is that Akutagawa has been leading the hunt."

Chūya let out an exasperated sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "The records should be in the comms storage room on the second floor."

"Ooooh. You were right, Osamu." The two of you exchanged a knowing nod.

"What did you even need me to say that for then?!" Chūya spun around, flinging his coat back upon his shoulders with a flourish. He let out a puff of air as he began to walk away. "Just get what you came for and get the fuck outta here, you ass. And try not to get Izanami in too much trouble."

You smirked at Osamu and let out a breathy laugh as he thanked Chūya. When Chūya was halfway up the stairs, still muttering threats, you nudged Osamu's arm.

"Oh yeah." Osamu leaned forward, calling out to Chūya with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Noooo, you're doing it wrong! Aren't you forgetting something?"

You smiled and joined in, leaning forward to shout with Osamu, "Don't you think you're forgetting something, Chuuuuuya?"

Chūya stopped, huffing out a breath as he let his head fall back slightly. Then, his knees came together as he dramatically turned to face you both. He pointed, using the worst attempt he could at a breathy feminine voice, "There will be no second chance!"

You and Osamu stood there, desperately trying not to burst out laughing.

"N-n-no... second... chance?" Chūya's temper quickly changed. "What the fuck?! You guys should be laughing!"

Your lips began to betray you as you looked at Osamu, who was also fighting the urge to laugh. Only when your eyes met did you both let loose a roar of amusement. You reached out and grasped Osamu's arm, nearly doubling over. His hand went to your waist for support as you both shook with laughter.

As you wiped a tear from your eyes, you hardly noticed Chūya storming off, his muttered curses fading into the distance. 

"Well, that wasn't at all nerve-wracking, even with that stupid excuse for a disguise. At least you got what you came here for." You stepped out into the spacious entryway of your penthouse, the soft glow of recessed lighting illuminating the modern décor. Osamu trailed behind you, his eyes roaming curiously over the sleek furnishings and artwork adorning the walls. It had been quite some time since he had crossed the threshold of your living space, and you could sense his subtle assessment of how things might have changed.

"Why is there an extra set of house shoes here?" Osamu's voice carried a hint of suspicion as he pointed towards a pair of familiar shoes in the doorway. You turned back, your gaze flicking from his outstretched finger to Chūya's worn leather loafers.

"You're smart, figure it out." Your tone was dismissive as you made your way into the expansive kitchen. The polished granite countertops gleamed under the pendant lights, a stark contrast to the layer of dust that had settled on the high-end appliances. No one had cooked here in quite some time, not even you. It was always take-out or restaurant dining, a testament to the responsibilities thrust upon you since your return from Italy.

You opened the stainless-steel refrigerator, the cool air washing over you as you grasped a bottle of your favorite Moscato. When you turned around, you caught sight of Osamu unceremoniously dropping Chūya's house shoes into the nearest trash can, a look of disgust marring his features.

"Osamu!" You snapped harshly, your voice echoing in the open-plan living area. "We've bothered him enough for the day."

"Nah," he sighed, plopping down on your plush leather couch. His nimble fingers began to paw at the files strewn across your glass coffee table, his brow furrowing as he scanned the documents. "These your casino numbers? Looks like someone's gonna be in trouble..."

You hummed noncommittally, deftly popping open the bottle of wine. No need for a glass when it was all going to get drunk anyway. You joined him on the couch, pulling your leg up underneath you, the soft leather cool against your skin.

As you settled in, your mind wandered to the real issue at hand. It wasn't the revenue of the casino that was trending downward, but rather the imports moving through its walls. A small, almost negligible number of weapons were going missing during processing. At first, you had been reluctant to dwell on it, knowing that a proper investigation would demand far more time than you were willing to allocate. However, with the inconsistencies growing, you knew it was only a matter of time before Mori would be breathing down your neck, his cold eyes demanding answers you weren't sure you could provide.

The weight of the situation settled over you like a shroud as you took a long swig from the bottle, the sweet Moscato a stark contrast to the bitter thoughts swirling in your mind.

"Yeah, I just need to figure out where it's going." You grasped a sleek remote beside you, pointing it toward the large, high-definition screen mounted on the wall. It flickered to life, illuminating the dimly lit room with a mosaic of camera feeds from various angles within the casino. Some showed the bustling gaming tables, while others revealed the shadowy back hallways where the real business was conducted.

"Wow. You must get really bored if this is what you do all day." Osamu teased, his fingers deftly flipping through the pages of reports. The rustling of paper mingled with the muted sounds from the surveillance feeds.

You plucked the documents from his hands, your tone tinged with a mix of frustration and weariness. "Well, I unfortunately don't have the luxury of calling out whenever I'm just 'not feeling it'. Also, I'm about to get really angry if you're about to say you figured it out."

He laughed, a warm sound that momentarily lightened the tension in the room. Relinquishing the papers, he immediately reached for another stack. "No, though, I wish I could make it that simple for you. Ranpo could figure it out in a split second."

You hummed thoughtfully, your eyes darting across the array of screens before you. You noted small changes needed in camera angles and observed how guests were responding to various aspects of the casino. One angle in particular caught your eye – a view over a blackjack table where a brunette man sat, his movements suggesting he was counting cards. There was something odd about him, and you began to wrack your brain, trying to place what the reason was.

As you pondered, your thoughts drifted to your recent conversation with Mori. There were only a few reasons why he would agree to allow you such autonomy. Firstly, your position as an executive was one of the highest forms of trust within the organization. Alternatively, Mori might be allowing this situation to play out for the long game. His desire for Osamu's return was no secret.

A sobering thought crossed your mind: on the minuscule chance Osamu did somehow agree to return, he would likely usurp your position as executive, becoming Mori's right hand and the Port Mafia's next leader.

You turned your head to look at Osamu, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pored over the reports. The soft glow from the nearby lamp cast shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the intensity in his eyes. In this moment, you found yourself drawn to this version of him – the one that most resembled Oda, yet with subtle differences that were uniquely Osamu.

As you watched him, you realized there were new facets to his personality that you were starting to love, though you would never stop cherishing who he was before. The thought struck you: isn't this what it means to truly love someone? Loving them unconditionally is to embrace both the old version and the new one that grows with or without you. It's accepting the evolution of a person, cherishing their core while appreciating the changes life brings.

Your mind wandered back to the possibility of Osamu returning to the Port Mafia. The idea sent a chill down your spine, not because of your potential loss of power, but because of what it would mean for him. He had made such significant progress in becoming the person that Oda had asked him to be – a better man, one who used his abilities for good rather than destruction. You couldn't bear the thought of him taking all these steps forward only to backtrack several years now.

The weight of these thoughts pressed heavily on your chest. Perhaps, if he did consider returning, you would attempt to convince him otherwise. You imagined the conversations you might have, the arguments you'd make, all in an effort to preserve the growth he had achieved. It wasn't about your position or the power dynamics within the Port Mafia; it was about protecting the man he had become, the one who was inching closer to fulfilling Oda's dying wish.

Your contemplative sigh, heavy with unspoken concerns, caught his attention. Osamu looked up from the papers, his eyes meeting yours. In that moment, you saw a flash of something – concern, curiosity, maybe even a hint of vulnerability – cross his face. It was a reminder of how far he'd come, how much more open he was now compared to his days in the Port Mafia.

Setting aside the documents, Osamu wrapped his arm around you, pulling you against his chest. The warmth of his body and the familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you, providing a momentary respite from your worries.

"What's got you all caught up in there?" he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. His voice held a note of genuine concern, a rare display of vulnerability in the usually guarded man.

As you nestled against him, your lips parted, ready to spill everything that was on your mind. However, at the last moment, you hesitated, closing your mouth before the words could escape. You shook your head slightly, earning a snug squeeze from Osamu. Your eyes drifted back to the brown-haired man on the screen, his movements suddenly capturing your full attention.

"That man isn't only counting cards, he's fucking memorizing them," you said, slightly pushing off Osamu's chest. His attention turned to the screen as well, his eyes narrowing as he observed the player's subtle movements.

"Wow, worst casino you could possibly want to do that in, too," Osamu remarked, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "He's probably trying to get your attention then."

It really did seem that way. The man's sleight of hand and intentional movements were almost too obvious. You doubted the dealer could see, but as soon as your phone began to ring with its shrill tone, you hoped your floor manager had spotted it as well.

"Izanami," you spoke curtly into the phone, your voice automatically shifting into a more authoritative tone.

You reluctantly crawled from the comfort of Osamu's arms; the loss of his warmth immediately noticeable as you walked over to the TV for a closer look.

"Just 'cause you're getting closer doesn't mean the picture will be any less fuzzy," Osamu quipped from the couch, his voice laced with playful sarcasm. You turned and stuck your tongue out at him, a moment of levity in the tense situation. He responded with a smirk and blew you a cheeky kiss, the familiar gesture bringing a brief smile to your face.

"Ma'am, table A12. We are currently watching—" your floor manager's voice crackled through the phone.

"Grab him and take him before he takes anymore of my patron's or the casino's money," you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for argument.

"Miss, this is his sixth visit in the past week. He's sat at the same table and asks every visit when you will make an appearance."

Your head jerked back slightly in confusion, brow furrowing as you processed this new information. You muttered a curse to yourself, then spoke to your manager once more, your voice low and controlled. "Place him in a holding room then. I'll be down in thirty."

You huffed as you closed your phone, frustration evident in your voice. "So much for a quiet night in."

Noticing the smirk remaining on Osamu's face, you raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, silently demanding an explanation.

"What about a night with you and I together ever says 'quiet'?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You puffed out a breath, trying to refrain from laughing. Heat crawled up your face, a mix of amusement and exasperation coloring your cheeks. Turning away to hide your reaction, you walked into your room. "Well, it doesn't matter now. I have to head to the casino."

No reply called back to you as you headed into your spacious closet, but you could sense Osamu's presence not far behind. You could feel his eyes on you as you meticulously looked through your clothes.

"I guess you'll have to go back to your dorm," you said, a note of reluctance in your voice. "I can't just leave you here."

After a moment, you looked back at him, taking in his relaxed posture as he leaned against the frame of the closet door, hands tucked into his slack pockets. His expression remained unchanged, a hint of expectation in his eyes, as if silently telling you what you should do without saying it aloud.

"Or," you found yourself saying, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you placed your hands on your hips in mock defeat. "You could come with."

His mood instantly shifted, excitement painting itself across his features. His eyes lit up, a rare genuine smile breaking through. "Yes! I think that's an even better idea."

You laughed, the sound light and playful in the quiet of the closet. "Though..." you trailed off, a mischievous glint in your eye.

He cocked his head to the side, eyes widening with curiosity. The gesture was oddly endearing, reminding you of a puppy presented with an unexpected promise of a treat.

"What you're wearing isn't really the dress code," you explained, your gaze sweeping over his usual, casual attire.

He raised an eyebrow, surprise evident in his voice. "Your casino has a dress code?"

You turned back to your wardrobe, fingers brushing over luxurious fabrics before grasping a sleek black halter dress. You laid it carefully over your bent arm, the silky material catching the light. "Yes. I have a dress code at my casino. If you make the guests dress nice, then they will have the mindset that they are in a high-class establishment. Which the Starlight is."

Osamu tsked playfully, a hint of admiration in his tone. "Playing mind games on your guests isn't really nice, Bella."

You shrugged, a playful grin playing on your lips. "I've done worse."

With a sense of purpose, you headed deeper into the closet, your fingers brushing past designer labels until they found a hidden clothes bag tucked away in the back. You paused, your hand resting on the zipper as a wave of emotions washed over you. Taking a deep breath, you turned back to Osamu.

"Oda and I had planned on giving this to you when I came back, but well..." your voice trailed off, the unspoken history hanging between you.

You held the bag out to him, and he took it with a mixture of curiosity and reverence. His fingers deftly unzipped the bag, revealing a stunning navy-blue suit, complete with a crisp black button-up and a rich maroon tie. The quality of the garment was evident even at a glance.

"It was his," you murmured, your voice soft with memory. "We had the tailor customize it to your last measurements, give or take your projected growth." You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat. "He really wanted to see you wear it, too."

His eyes softened looking at the suit. “Well, I guess it’s good your casino has a required dress code.”

Osamu's fingers deftly traced along the lapel of the navy-blue suit, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles as they continued downward. He straightened the maroon tie, the silk cool against his calloused fingertips, as he gazed at his reflection in the full-length mirror. The suit fit him perfectly, as if it had been tailored just yesterday rather than years ago.

He wondered to himself if Oda had wanted to gift it to him because of his selected color palette; Osamu had always favored blacks and darker colors, whereas Oda had leaned towards lighter tones. Regardless of the reason, as he looked back at himself, a sense of unease settled in his stomach. The man staring back at him looked like he had never left the Port Mafia - polished, dangerous, and ready for whatever the night might bring.

"Is it too much? The suit?" you ask, your voice carrying a hint of vulnerability rarely heard.

He turned to see you, and his breath hitched. You were dressed effortlessly in the black halter dress, its fabric flowing like liquid shadow around your form. Twin slits rose daringly up to your hips, revealing tantalizing glimpses of skin with each movement. His keen eyes didn't miss the revolver strapped to your thigh, the lethal accessory that somehow only added to your allure.

The sight of you was almost too painful, too reminiscent of years ago during successful missions long gone. You looked like a vision from the past, yet undeniably present and real.

"No," he said, trying to convince himself as much as you. "It's really nice. You two did really good."

He watched as a small, bittersweet smile graced your lips. You walked towards him with a grace that spoke of years of training and natural poise. Your hands rose to rest upon his chest, the warmth of your touch seeping through the fabric of his suit. He heard you sigh, noticing the sadness wavering in your eyes.

Osamu reached up, his fingers brushing away stray hairs from your face with a tenderness that belied his usually aloof demeanor. His touch drifted down, gently raising your chin so your eyes met his.

"Hey, don't look so sad," he murmured, his voice soft. "You're about to take me to your fabulous, upscale casino."

Your laugh rang out, a melody that Osamu hoped would never cease to exist. It was a sound that grounded him, reminding him of why he had chosen this path away from the darkness of his past.

He leaned down towards your parted lips, gently grazing his upon yours in a feather-light touch. When you attempted to deepen the kiss, he slyly moved back, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Osamu, don't tease," you breathed out, your voice a mixture of frustration and desire.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. "I can't make you work for it?" he quipped, his tone laced with affection and mischief.

Before you could reply, he ultimately relented, meeting your lips in a kiss that spoke volumes. The warmth of your body pressed against his, the softness of your lips, the faint scent of your perfume - all of it overwhelmed his senses. If he didn't have pressing matters to attend to, he could stay here for hours; just holding you and relinquishing all responsibilities of life was all he wished he could do with you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this moment of tender passion.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, his thumb gently pressing against your blood-red stained bottom lip. The contrast of his pale skin against the vibrant color was striking, a visual representation of the delicate balance between tenderness and danger that defined your relationship.

In a hushed voice, you smirked, your eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. "What am I to do with you?"

He gave a light laugh but refrained from replying, letting your imagination decide upon that. The possibilities hung in the air between you, electric and enticing.

He watched you turn away, your movements fluid and graceful as you retreated to the closet. You returned moments later with the maroon silk scarf, the fabric shimmering under the soft lighting of the room. You approached him again, reaching around to drape the scarf over his shoulders. The brush of your fingers against his neck sent a shiver down his spine.

"I believe the look is now complete," you murmured, turning him to face the mirror once more.

Osamu could see himself more clearly now, or rather, the image of what could have been had he remained faithful to the mafia. The man in the mirror was polished, dangerous, and undeniably attractive. Yet, there was something in his eyes - a softness, perhaps - that hadn't been there in his Port Mafia days.

You remind me of someone.

"You look very handsome, Mr. Detective," you said, your voice warm with admiration and a hint of playfulness. The warmth of your hands snaked up his waist underneath the suit jacket to rest upon his chest, squeezing him in a comforting hug. Your touch grounded him, pulling him back from the edge of his darker thoughts.

Your affection completely made up for the fact that he was doubting the whole thing; seeing himself as a reflection of someone he was trying his hardest to leave behind. The cognitive dissonance was palpable - how could he completely move on when you were so intricately entangled with everything he was, both past and present?

As he stood there, your arms around him and your reflection beside his in the mirror, Osamu felt a complex mix of emotions. Gratitude for your unwavering support, love for the woman who had stood by him through his darkest times, and a lingering uncertainty about the future. But with you by his side, he felt ready to face whatever the night might bring, walking the fine line between his past and his present with you as his anchor.

"Let me just grab my coat, then we can go," you said, your voice carrying a hint of excitement for the evening ahead.

Osamu felt the gentle graze of your hand along his arm as you walked away, the brief touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. He watched as you picked up your phone, your movements precise and deliberate. You punched a button, and he observed with curiosity as you allowed it to ring four times before ending the call. The significance wasn't lost on him - four, the number of death. He let his head fall into a slight shake as a smile formed upon his face. You and your dedication to death, even in the smallest of gestures.

You disappeared for the final time into the depths of your expansive closet. When you emerged, Osamu gave you one final look-over. You were now adorned in an off-the-shoulder, snow-white trench coat that contrasted beautifully with the black dress underneath. The coat seemed to glow softly in the dim light of the room, accentuating your figure and lending you an almost ethereal quality.

Osamu extended his hand to you, an invitation and a promise rolled into one. He loved every bit of this version of you. You reached for him, your hand fitting perfectly into his.

“To the Starlight!” He excitedly said, tossing his free hand into the air with a point.

“So, I can figure out what the fuck this guy wants.” You mutter, as if remembering the true reason for this outing.

The bright exterior lights of the Starlight Casino glimmered in Osamu's eyes, their golden glow reflecting off the polished surfaces of the building. While this wasn't his first time at this specific establishment, it was his first time entering its doors with you on his arm.

As the two of you stepped inside, Osamu's senses were overwhelmed by the opulent interior. Rich red carpeting stretched out before them, its plush fibers muffling his footsteps. Golden accents adorned the tables, catching the light and adding a shimmer of wealth to every surface. His eyes roamed over the meticulous details that you and Chūya had spent months planning.

"So, short stack helped you decorate this place?" he muttered in an annoyed tone as he paused in the entryway. A hint of jealousy colored his voice, wishing he could have been part of this process with you. "It looks so different than during the Rogue Roulette."

You gave a satisfied hum, your eyes sparkling with pride as you waved to patrons calling out your name. "That was the goal," you replied, your voice carrying a note of accomplishment.

Osamu soon realized the adoration you had accrued; visitors approached the two of you, singing nothing but praises of the Starlight. He observed with a mixture of pride and fascination as you handled each interaction with grace and poise. Your responses to each guest were eloquent, thanking them for their kind words and encouraging them to notify you of any needs they might have during their stay. The sincerity in your voice was palpable, and Osamu couldn't help but think that you were perfect for this role in every sense of the word.

With your hand firmly grasped in his, you guided him through the crowd, navigating the sea of patrons with ease. As you reached the bar in the center of the building, Osamu's attention was caught by your seamless slip into Italian.

"Nico, mio amico!" you called out, leaning across the polished bar top.

A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes approached, a generous smile spreading across his face as you spoke sweetly to him. "Pour my guest a glass of The Singleton whiskey, and I'll have my usual. Grazie!"

As Nico rushed to fulfill your order, Osamu gently pulled on your arm, turning you to face him. He caged you against the bar, his proximity to you sending a subtle thrill through him. "You find him in Italy, I'm assuming?" he asked, curiosity lacing his tone.

"Nico is a good friend," you explained, your eyes meeting his. "I stole him from one of the finest restaurants in Italy. The one, in fact, I wanted to take you to when you visited. I, instead, took Chūya with me."

Osamu rolled his eyes dramatically at the thought, a hint of playful jealousy in his voice. "So, you took Chūya on a date? Then stole their bartender as compensation for the disaster that must have been?"

"It honestly wasn't that bad," you replied with a light laugh. "He made a fool of himself when he ordered, though."

Osamu watched as your eyes darted around for a moment, sensing there might be more to the story than you were letting on. Before he could press further, Nico returned, neatly placing the drinks upon the polished countertop. Osamu took note of his refined movements. Every action was precise, a testament to the man's experience and your keen eye for talent.

Osamu raised the crystal tumbler of whiskey to the man, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. "Grazie, buon signore," he said, his Italian rough but clear.

Nico's eyebrows rose in surprise, a look of intrigue crossing his face. He glanced between you and Osamu, a knowing smile forming. "You capture his heart on your travels too, signora?" he asked, his tone warm and slightly teasing.

You smiled at Nico's joke, raising the straw of your own drink to your lips. After taking a sip, you replied, "Many of my workers, such as yourself, come from there. However, my guest has always called Yokohama home." Your eyes met Osamu's, giving you a small smile as he fondly remembered each moment he had shared with you until your departure. “Treat him well should he ever visit?"

Nico gave a slight bow, warmth evident in his voice as he responded, "Certo, mia signora."

As Nico turned away to continue serving the gathering guests, Osamu's eyes followed him, curiosity piqued. He wondered about the circumstances that brought this skilled bartender from one of Italy's finest restaurants to your casino in Yokohama. Was it merely an employment agreement, or had you wielded your considerable influence to ensure his presence here?

Osamu found himself both observer and participant in your world. The crowd around you continued to grow, patrons eager for your attention. He noticed how you kept a firm grip on his hand, a subtle but clear message to those who might try to get too close. Amidst the cacophony of voices, Osamu's keen ears picked up on the undercurrents - men muttering vulgar comments about you, women eyeing you with barely concealed jealousy. Yet through it all, you maintained your composure, navigating the social minefield with the skill of a seasoned professional.

"Madam Izanami!" A hearty, booming voice rang out from a nearby table, cutting through the ambient noise of the casino.

"Prime Minister!" Osamu saw a large, genuine smile form upon your face as you tugged him along toward the Craps tables. The excitement in your voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the controlled poise you'd maintained thus far.

As you approached, Osamu took in the sight of the Italian Prime Minister - a portly man with a jovial face and expensive suit that barely contained his girth. His beefy arms were outstretched, fanning over you as you waved him off with practiced grace.

"My dear, you look as radiant as ever!" the Prime Minister exclaimed, his voice carrying a hint of an Italian accent.

"Hush, you flatter me too much," you replied, your tone warm and familiar.

Your hand attempted to leave Osamu's, but he refrained from letting go. A surge of protectiveness washed over him. It was too risky. He couldn't fathom why you would abstain from touching others yet be so quick to touch a diplomat. Touching him would risk the Port Mafia's standing with other governments, something Osamu was far too aware of.

You gave a small glimpse back to him, tapping your thumb against his hand. The gesture was subtle but clear - a request for trust.

I can't, Osamu thought to himself. Not only as a detective within the agency but as someone who wanted to protect you from anything and everything.

You tapped again as you carried out the conversation with the man, blowing on his die at his request. The Prime Minister's eyes lit up with excitement, his boisterous laugh echoing around them.

With a roar of excitement from the Prime Minister, you tapped four times, and Osamu, understanding the significance, reluctantly relinquished his right to hold you. Your hand gently rested upon the Italian Prime Minister's back, his hand snaking around your waist, thankfully, at a respectable height.

Osamu watched on, his face a mask of polite interest as the two of you discussed something, the Prime Minister's tone similar to an old friend who hadn't seen you in quite some time. He caught snippets of Italian mixed with English, the easy familiarity between you and the politician both intriguing and slightly unsettling.

The older man's gaze slipped back to Osamu, eyeing him suspiciously. His jovial demeanor shifted, taking on a more protective air. "Are you treating my girl with the utmost respect?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of warning.

Osamu straightened, his smile breaking through to hide his internal thoughts. "Of course, I wouldn't dream of besmirching cara mia," he replied smoothly, his Italian pronunciation perfect.

The Prime Minister raised his eyebrow, clearly impressed but not entirely convinced. "One wrong move and it won't be only the Port Mafia you will have to worry about, boy," he warned, his tone leaving no doubt about the seriousness of his threat.

Osamu felt the corner of his lips twitch at the threat. You had very obviously made friends in high places, a fact that both impressed and concerned him.

"Oh, Amedeo. Stop that," you chided gently, tapping the Prime Minister's chest lightly as you moved away, rejoining Osamu's side and grasping his hand once more. The warmth of your touch was a welcome comfort. "Try not to take all of my casino's money tonight. However, I hope you are successful at the least. Have a safe flight home and tell the missus I say hello."

"Of course, mia ragazza," Amedeo replied warmly, waving the two of you off as his attention returned to the Craps table.

You turned on your heels, leading Osamu further into the depths of the casino. The liveliness of the halls began to die down once you opened a door to the back corridors, the sounds of the casino floor muffling behind you.

"So," Osamu's curiosity finally piqued at the absence of eavesdroppers. "What did you do to him?"

You smiled back solemnly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. "With all my time in Italy, you seriously think I would attempt to kill him?"

"With all things considered?" Osamu pressed, his tone a mixture of curiosity and concern.

You stop as you gave a breathy laugh, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. "He has cancer," you revealed, your voice softening. "Though, possibly to your surprise, I didn’t cause it."

Osamu paused before issuing a reaction, waiting for your explanation.

“He visits the casino, every so often. With my education, thanks to Dr. Stevenson, I think about molecular structures, down to the cellular functions. With the Prime Minister, I can’t cure him. However, I can provide him with more time.”

Osamu stood stunned with disbelief as the two of you continued down the corridor. “So, Italy was beneficial after all. Never would’ve though Mori would do something in your favor.”

You laugh, “I know. Doesn’t he realize he’s signed his death certificate with that?”

Along the long stretch of the cemented walls, a man stood at attention awaiting you.

“Miss.” He bowed with precise motion. “He’s asked for you once more after we detained him.”

“Has he said anything of interest otherwise?” You shrug the coat from your arms, the revolver catching Osamu’s eyes once more. Osamu reaches to grasp the coat from you before you had a chance to hand it off to your manager. His stomach flipping lightly at the soft look in your eyes, before they harden once more toward the door.

“No ma’am. He’s been silent otherwise.”

Osamu watched as you nodded decisively, grasping the door handle and entering the room. He followed close behind, noting the manager's quizzical look as he closed the door.

Moving into the dimly lit corner, Osamu positioned himself facing the man handcuffed to the table. Despite being a detective with the Agency, he felt compelled to remain a silent observer. This was your casino, Port Mafia territory. He refrained from speaking out against the man's wrongdoings, partly because he knew the impending show would be something to behold, even if it contradicted Oda's dying wish. Osamu convinced himself that Oda would understand, because it was you he was with.

He watched intently as you circled the table, your movements graceful yet predatory. The air crackled with tension as you waited for the man to either speak up confidently or beg for mercy. Surprisingly, neither occurred.

"Tell me," the man finally broke the silence, his gaze fixed on his chained wrists. His thick Russian accent caught you off guard as he continued, "Are you the bitch who owns this establishment?"

"And if I am?" You tilted your head, your voice dripping with honeyed venom. "What makes you think you can enter my casino and make a fool of the Port Mafia's Izanami?"

The man's response was a smirk that gradually evolved into raucous laughter.

Irritation flashed across your face. In one fluid motion, you grasped the metal seat and yanked it out from under him. The man crashed to the floor, his laughter abruptly silenced. Osamu could now clearly see the scar running down the corner of his mouth, his brown eyes darting about wildly.

"Where's your laughter now?" you hissed. "I'm the bitch that will end your life. Now, why are you here? Why have you come to meet your end?"

"I came because I was ordered to," the man replied, his voice steady despite his prone position. "I have a message for you."

As the man attempted to reach into his breast pocket, Osamu stepped forward. With practiced ease, he slipped his hand into the man's pocket, retrieving a sealed letter. He showed you the wax seal, pretending not to notice the faint outline of a rat.

Your eyes widened momentarily before narrowing sharply. "Who sent you?!" you demanded, grasping the man's shirt roughly.

Osamu retreated, letter in hand, his mind racing. He recognized the emblem, but your reaction raised questions about your connection to it.

You were now in full contact with the man, yet the expected anaphylactic shock hadn't set in. "Who sent you?!" you repeated, fear evident in your eyes.

The man's lips moved; his words inaudible to Osamu but clearly heard by you. A smile curled your lips as you began to squeeze the man's neck.

Your voice, sweet yet deadly, broke the silence. "No man could ever build a perfect world such as this one."

Blood began to spill from the man's eyes and nose, a gruesome sight that didn't deter you.

"Do svidaniya, yego tsvetok," the man choked out his final words, his blood spattering your face. Yet you didn't release your grip, continuing to squeeze as if fearing his resurrection.

Osamu sensed your fear beneath the facade of madness. "Bella, he's gone," he said softly.

You blinked, looking up as if suddenly remembering his presence. Glancing back at the lifeless man, you murmured, "Oh, I suppose he is." Your hands released their grip, and the body hit the floor with a dull thud, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

Osamu watched intently as you approached, your heels clicking sharply against the concrete floor. Each step echoed in the silent room, amplifying the tension. Despite the blood staining your face and clothes, he found himself captivated. This darker side of you stirred something within him - a mixture of admiration and nostalgia for the days when you both walked in the shadows of the Port Mafia.

"Can I have the note?" you asked, extending your hand towards him.

Osamu raised his eyebrows, feigning forgetfulness about the paper. A part of him wanted to keep it, to examine it away from your watchful eyes and unravel the mystery of why he was sending you letters. The weight of the paper felt significant in his pocket, a secret he was reluctant to relinquish.

"'Samu, give me the paper." Your words carried an unexpected edge that caught him off guard.

Reluctantly, he retrieved the folded sheet from within his suit. He hovered it above your outstretched hand for a moment, then pulled back as you reached for it. A small act of defiance, born from his growing curiosity and concern.

"Before I do," he said, his voice low and probing, "what did he say to you?"

He watched as your eyes flashed with annoyance, the blood on your face accentuating the intensity of your gaze. "Nothing of major importance," you replied, but Osamu knew better.

As you attempted to grasp the paper once more, he deftly moved it out of your reach. A playful smirk tugged at his lips, masking his growing unease. "You had quite the reaction for it to be nothing."

He observed you huff, poking your tongue into your cheek - a telltale sign he recognized as you formulating a lie. Deciding against listening to whatever half-baked story you might concoct, Osamu sighed and handed you the slip.

"I trust you will tell me when you're ready," he said, resignation coloring his voice at the unexpected turn of events. "I know who it's from, though. So please, don't allow him to manipulate you." The words felt heavy on his tongue, laden with concern and a hint of jealousy.

Your expression softened slightly as you took the paper, and Osamu felt a glimmer of hope. "Amore mio, that man could never do such a thing. I promise, when I have a full understanding of what's going on, I will tell you."

As you turned away to unfold the slip of paper, Osamu stepped closer, unable to resist. He peered over your shoulder, his breath hitching as he took in the contents: a simple drawing of a whale and a cryptic note that read, "So it begins, moy tsvetok."

“He brings word to you. He will build the perfect world for you.”

previous part ~ next part | DBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

We are getting into things now, and I have more to come I promise. I have like reader's whole thing semi-thought out up to the most recent events anime/manga wise. Like, if y'all enjoyed this, just wait until I get Beast out. ugh I love writing way too much. Anyone relate?

Song Inspo: Villian— K/DA

Anyways! Hope you enjoyed this part, if you did and feel compelled, give her a little like and repost?

Thank you to everyone who gives this a little read, and until the next installment <3 ~DamzelZelda

[quinloki]

TikTok Top

Inspired by @swampstew's Killer Cook - which you should seriously go read, it's a fantastic set up. It's a completely different vibe from this one-shot, but it's Damn Good Writing and World Building and I think you'll love it as much as I do.

Fem Reader x Eustass Kid

Word count: 3,682

CW: BDSM, hook-up, rope, safe sane and consensual, does NOT result in a relationship, language, degradation (name calling),

[This picks up from the end of the first chapter of Killer Cook (go read it!) ]

PunkNeverDied69: You can’t afford my tastes. UnderstatedGrin: They might not be able to, but I know I can. PunkNeverDied69: What makes you so sure, doll? UnderstatedGrin: If you’re brave enough to find out, I can prove it.

KillerCook: Take this to DMs or something, but get out of my comments *both* of you.

The parameters you laid out were simple. Lunch at a local popular cafe. Your treat, all he has to do is arrive first. After all you know what he looks like, but he doesn’t know what you look like. No strings, no expectations - if it was a bust before the food was cold, so be it, and if it turned into a one night stand, then that's fine too.

You were both adults, so long as he wasn’t already seeing someone you weren’t concerned about how things unfolded. He was hot, yes, but oddly you were drawn more to his personality and the sound of his voice. Everything else was just some delightful bonuses.

He looked a little out of place in the cafe, but only because the cafe didn’t suit him. For how you imagined he preferred to dress when he went out he had kept things fairly low-key. The black t-shirt didn’t have any extra print on it, and the jeans fit him well, all the way down to black spike studded combat boots.

That fiery hair of his was a well-placed mess, and he seemed to be ignoring the looks his scar and prosthetic caused. Considering the different ones you had seen in the videos, he was going pretty low key across the board.

You sat down across from him and watched his face go through a series of emotions. He looked around after a moment and then looked back at you.

“Fuckin’ with me already, doll?” He asks, a little irritation in his voice despite his grin.

“Hardly,” you reply with a small smile. “I warned you my appearance was going to clash with what you expected.”

You had light makeup up on giving you that natural look, and your hair was pulled into a mostly tight bun at the curve of your head, instead of down by your nape. You wore a white blouse with a sweater vest over it, and a knee-length pencil skirt with a pair of Mary Jane’s. The added effect of your rimless glasses made you look  like the least dangerous thing for a hundred miles at least.

A waitress came over to take your order and you prompted Eustass to order whatever he pleased. By the time he was done he had ordered almost half the menu, but it was okay - this was the game anyway. The push and pull. Your desire to lure him in, his desire to piss you off.

Gods you loved that attitude of his.

You spoke about Killer and the cooking channel while you waited for the order to arrive, and you’re surprised to find him talking more about his friends than himself. He talks gruffly, but fondly, about Heat and Killer both, and even admits that there’s another guy named Wire who hasn’t yet accidentally wandered into the kitchen, but helps with editing.

After the food arrives you prompt Kid to enjoy it, sipping the tea that you had gotten for yourself. It wasn’t that you couldn’t sit here and pack away food with him, but you didn’t want your nerves to do anything embarrassing with a heavy meal.

He’s a few bites in when you shift in your chair and he looks over at you. You must look a little uncomfortable despite your efforts, and there’s a flash of concern on his face before he swallows and looks away.

“If you really can’t swing the bill, you’re allowed to speak up or something.” He grumbles.

“Oh no, the bill is not an issue. Neither is anything you’ve done.” You say evenly, unbuttoning the collar of your blouse slowly as he turns toward you. You pull the collar aside just enough to show lines of rope and a knot sitting over your collarbone. “I simply tied things up a little snug, is all.”

Kid nearly drops the sandwich he’s working on. You can see a brief tinge of pink cross his cheeks before it’s replaced by a beautifully wolffish grin.

“Think you got my number, girlie?” He asks, going back to the sandwich.

Your smile is slight and you keep your eyes downcast as you speak. “Perhaps. Should I shoot my shot and you can tell me if I’ve hit or kissed?”

Eustass grunts a laugh before swallowing. “Fire away.”

“I think you’re fiercely loyal and supportive of your friends. You push the boundaries of what can be posted to TikTok because you want Killer to shine as much as you know he can. You’d probably never forgive yourself if you accidentally got him banned though. You’re also more of a classical music and pop kind of guy, but you know people already judge your appearance as is, so you lean into the whole rock and heavy metal - which isn’t a complete loss, cause you like that music too.” You take a sip of tea, noticing that he’s stopped eating and is looking at you. You look at him over the edge of your glasses. “I also bet you’re quite the dom, but that might be my own personal hope winning out over anything else.”

There’s a tense quiet moment between you and you simply hold his gaze with a soft smile.

“What makes you think I like classical music?” He asks after a moment, leaning back and regarding you with some amusement.

“You got in trouble with TikTok because you attributed a song to the classical score it used, and not the song itself.” You answer evenly. “I’m going to assume it was because they didn’t even change anything from the original score and then didn’t give any credit. Which, I mean, good show and all, but that’s how I sorted it out.”

“That’s some pretty creepy levels of paying attention.”

You shrug. “I set this up with the intention of inviting you over, if I wasn’t going to be sure what kind of person you are, then why bother at all?”

“Planning on inviting me over? Mouse I could snap you in half effortlessly, why would you invite me to your home?” His voice is grumpy but there’s an amused smirk on his face. “You could’ve opted for a hotel or something.”

“It’s cause of Killer, actually.”

“Huh? The fuck does he have to do with inviting me to your home?”

“Killer’s on screen a lot. Live. Candidly. Not just popping in to do taste tests and flex all those lovely muscles you’re fond of.” Your soft smile is a little more mischievous. “Anyway, I can’t imagine someone like him would put up with trash. You might be a real bastard, but I don’t believe you’re someone who would do unforgivable things to me unless I gave you reason to.”

Kid’s quiet for a moment, regarding you so intently you’re almost uncomfortable. He shrugs, finishes what he was eating, and flags down a waiter to get some to go containers. Chugging the rest of his drink he gets your address and tells you to head home.

He’ll be there, and you should be ready for him.

.

.

.

.

Kid arrives at your house twenty minutes after you, and after you let him in he takes his boots off in the entryway, giving you a sideways glance for a second.

“That your idea of getting ready for me?” He questions, his head tilting toward a box of condoms on the counter.

“Yes,” you admit, taking a few steps back to give him room. “I don’t know what else I could’ve done. The clothes are disposable, and, well, I don’t know that you won’t still leave after you see my room.”

Your confidence is faltering a little at this point. Every prior relationship had turned tail and ran away from you when you had been candid about your particular appetite. If Eustass was the same as everyone before him, he was going to put his boots back on and leave as soon as he saw your collection.

Kid starts to say something but sees the look on your face and pauses. “Fine, show me this terrifying room of yours.”

You lead him over and open the door, letting him walk in without you. The four poster bed already has cuffs set up on it, and your closet was open to show off the toys and accessories you had inside, everything from gags to whips to paddles to more rope and cuffs. There were noise canceling headphones and blindfolds as well, and a small assortment of body stockings.

There was an extensive collection of plugs, dildos, vibrators and clamps, and safety equipment to cut binds or pre-weaken items so you could break free on your own if needed to.

Kid walks all around and takes everything in before looking back at you. “Kinda went all in, didn’tcha?”

“Yeah.” You hate how small your voice sounds, but people leaving at this point happens so often you can’t bring yourself to hope.

“Well, what’re your safe words?” He asks, and the sinking feeling in your stomach does a 180 so fast you almost aren’t sure what to do with it.

“Ah.. um… j-just colors.”

“Red, green, yellow?”

You nod.

He steps toward you and reaches out, grabbing your chin and tilting your gaze up to his. “First time?”

You look away. “Yeah, no one, uh, ever stayed after this point.”

“Their loss,” he says, turning your head to pull your gaze back to his. “When I ask for a color, you tell me where you’re at - if it’s all new to you, you can use yellow to mean you’re exhausted. Red is to make it stop - I don’t care what the reason is, or when. If I gotta jerk off in your bathroom because you couldn’t make it, then that’s how it goes. We clear?”

You nod. “We’re, uh, green.”

Eustass grins, and while it’s a positive look, there’s something in it that makes you nervous. “Take that sweater off and we’ll get started.”

You pull the sweater vest off, and catch the pleased look on his face as it becomes glaringly obvious there’s a rope harness under the blouse. He pulls you against his body, feeling the ropes between the two of you, and grabs your hair roughly, tilting your head back and causing you to gasp.

“Any hard no’s before we start?”

Those golden brown eyes had you captive more than his hand in your hair. “I mean, no blood no foul is the best I have right now.”

Kid licks his lips and leans down, barely a breath away from your lips. Before he can say anything you grin.

“I bet I’d look good in that lipstick.”  You manage with a light nervous chuckle.

Eustass captures your lips and the jolt of pleasure that strikes you makes your whole body squirm. You steady yourself against his chest and moan softly as his tongue steals air and sense from you, deep in your mouth before you had even realized your lips had given entry.

He pulls you into the room, standing you by the bed. Breaking the kiss enough to change where his hands are he resumes kissing you as he pulls the blouse open roughly, sending buttons scattering in all directions. You squeak as he pulls it off unceremoniously and starts to toss it aside.

He regards it for a moment, giving you a chance to catch your breath, face already hot and red. Using the blouse he ties your arms behind your back, kissing your neck and trailing his tongue along your shoulder, letting your shaky gasps out into the air.

You feel him put a part of the blouse in your hand and close your fingers around it. You could pull it and free yourself, and the consideration for your safety only made you hornier.

His arms shift as he continues to tease your neck, pulling sweet little mewling sounds out of you before he moves to the other side, sucking your skin hard and pinching your nipples between his fingers at the same time. The pleasure and pain short circuit your reactions, and your pleasurable moan turns into a swear as you take a step back.

You’re gasping and your legs are already shaking and Kid’s looking at you with an amused grin.

“Not like just using toys, is it?”

“N-no, it’s not.” You admit, body shivering with anticipation.

“Too much?”

You shake your head. “G-green, I’m green. Haa, in more ways than one.” You admit softly.

“Then get your little whore ass back over here.” Eustass says, a commanding tone in his voice that sends a chill down your back. You step back toward him, face flushed red, and stick your chest out toward him without further prompt.

“Green maybe,” he says, clearly referencing your experience. “But well educated. Does the little newbie whore wanna cum for me?”

You nod, “I want to - haa-nngh!” Your words are cut short as Eustass pulls on the rope between your thighs, digging it into your clit.

“Look at me when you beg bitch.” He demands and the shiver that runs you through - more from his tone than his words - forces a shaky sound out of you. You can see the delight on his face before you can speak up.

“I-I want to cum a-against your cock.” You beg, your face painfully red as you manage to look at him through the whole thing before looking away.

“Mmm, let’s see if you can earn that privilege.” He muses, pulling the pencil skirt off and letting it pool at your feet. He helps you step clear of it before turning you around and shoving you onto your bed, chest down, ass in the air as you barely manage to keep your feet under you. “I want to hear a color from you after each one of these, doll.”

“O-okay,” you answer a little shakily, fairly certain you know what’s coming.

“That should be a ‘yes sir’ at the least.” He says, his right hand cracking sharply against your ass.

The sweet sting turns pleasurable quickly and you gasp at the sensation - knowing it was coming did you no good.

“G-green, sir, and ah, h-harder, please.”

“Mm, listen to you.” His left hand comes down harder, the exacting control he has over the prosthetic leaves a delicious, and heavier, sting against your skin.

After every smack you say green, even if a couple times you need to catch your breath or struggle against a moan to speak.  After nearly a dozen solid smacks you let the first yellow pass your lips.

Eustass’s hands grab your bright red ass cheeks and squeeze them, eliciting a nearly orgasmic sound from you as the strange mix of pleasure and pain push into your body.

“You’re legit turned on by this,” he says practically purring the words. “Your cunt’s just drooling down your thighs. I’ll give you credit, you are a delightful little toy. Fuck I want to shove my cock down your throat and see how much you’ve practiced with those monster dildos, but we’ll see how fast you recover from this first.”

You hear and feel the safety scissors as Kid cuts the rope that is soaking in your slit, and moves it away.

“Color?”

“Green, green! Just p-please don’t stop!” You gasp into the mattress, the words collapsing into a cry of pleasure as hot fingers find your clit. His fingers slip and slide against your soaking pussy for a couple seconds before his prosthetic steadies you.

“Don’t squirm so much,” he says with a chuckle. “I can’t keep my fingers on your clit when you move so much. Keep your hips up.”

“T-trying… legs are… I’m gonna c-cum!” You can feel the rush of pleasure threatening to overtake you when there’s a sharp snap against your ass.

“You wanted to cum around my cock, don’t go creaming on your own, doll.” He says, pulling his fingers from your clit. You could hear the wrapper break and then a moment later you could feel him.

You hadn’t seen the size of him since things started, but he felt impossibly large. Maybe it was because you weren’t in control like you were with your toys, but you shift your hips against the tip, trying to help lubricate the beast before it tears you open.

“Used to taking this on your own terms, aren’tcha, ya little size princess? Well, not this time. You keep those hips up and still.” He commands, and you comply despite your concerns. “There we go, don’t worry, I’m not going to break you.”

He leans down over you and can feel the warmth of him against your back, and the heat of his words tickle your ear.

“You're entirely too fun to break in the first round, girlie.” He promises you as he begins to push into you. His face stays near yours as he pushes deeper. Slowly and without pause.

Most of the toys you had, had some give to them, but Eustass was more like metal than flesh, as he stretched you wider than you had ever done to yourself. It took all you had to stay still as he pushed in so achingly slow, relishing in the twitches and gasps coming from you.

“Don’t you dare cum from just this,” he demands, and you can feel your body responding, regardless of your own will. “I’m about to make all your little toys useless. Or at least useless in your hands.” He muses, leaning back as his hips push flush against your thighs.

“Holy fuck, look at you taking all of me like a godsdamned champ.” He grabs your hips and pushes himself deeper by pulling you against him and the sensation forces a broken moan from you as one of your leg curls. “Oh I am going to fuck you mindless, little mouse.”

You gasp at the name and hide your face in the mattress, arms flexing against the ropes, legs already shivering before he’s even started.

“Like that, huh?” He pulls back and little and thrusts heavily into you. “Keep being a good girl, and maybe I’ll call you mouse more often.”

Your legs aren’t holding you up as Eustass grips your hips and snaps into you over and over. Pleasurable sounds leak from both sets of your lips, some of them soaking into the mattress, some dribbling down your thighs. Once he finds a spot that makes you practically growl in pleasure he hits that spot over and over and you couldn’t hardly make any sounds as the powerful orgasm crashes into you.

You couldn’t even beg for permission.

You hadn’t ever brought yourself to such a hard orgasm, and you hear Eustass hiss as you clench and spasm against him. He mutters a curse under his breath, pushing you further onto the bed and lifting you up enough to get your knees on the mattress.

Your body crumpled under you, but Eustass leans into you and the bed. He gives you enough of a reprieve, pushing into you slowly, to let your senses return a little.

“Where’re you at, little mouse?”

“G-green, for the love of fuck, d-don’t stop!” You gasp, pushing back into him. “I’ve n-never - that was am-ma-mazing - hnnngh!!”

“Flattery will get you pretty far, at least when it’s like that.” He grins, pounding into you again from the new angle. The bed is taking most of the punishment, as his hips smack into your thighs and push you into the mattress.

You can’t care about the bed, or much of anything else. You squirm and wiggle under him and the inability to escape fuels your pleasure, pushing you toward a second orgasm quickly.

“Haa-ngh, fuck, K-Kid, I’m gonna… can’t -.”

“Scream for me.” He demands, reaching around and pushing his fingers into your clit.

You gasp and let loose a short string of swears before your entire body curls and the orgasm nearly breaks you. You cry out something, and you're vaguely aware of Eustass cumming with you as he growls your new favorite nickname before slamming into your needy body roughly.

You’re a little disappointed he needed to wear the condom, the idea of his pleasure leaking out of you was turning you on, even if you weren’t sure why. It probably had a little bit to do with the gaping empty feeling as he pulled out of you, you’re shivering at the sensation of it and the odd hollowed out feeling that lingered.

“Let me get you out of those ropes and get you cleaned up.” He says after taking a second to catch his breath. “How ya feeling?”

“Exhausted,” you admit with a chuckle as the ropes are loosened. “All my muscles are mush. Exhaustion aside, that was fucking amazing.”

Eustass rolls you onto your back to undo the knots on the front. “Good. Nothing feels bad?”

“Mm, in what way?”

“No weird pain, no pang of regret?” He asks. “Whatever it is, it’s best to talk it out now instead of later.”

“Hm.” You consider things for a moment. “Aside from a bit of rope burn, nothing feels off physically. Mentally, er, no. No regrets. I’m glad to have done this, but er, how do I find people like us?” You ask with a sheepish grin as he helps you sit up.

Eustass snorts. “Let me help you get set up on a kink-friendly dating website after a shower.” He says, helping you stand. “Friends?” He questions, raising a brow.

“Friends.” You admit with a smile.

“Good, so rule #1, if anyone you hook up with ignores your safe words, you tell me.” Kid says, ruffling your hair before he practically carries you into the bathroom.