#all that on top of any future commissions

[emchante]

through every moment | l. norris

summary: 5 times lando comforted you + 1 time you comforted him

wc: 2.2k

helloo lovelies. this admittedly is a very old thing from my docs, but i thought i'd get it out there. i don't write for lando anymore (unless it's a commission), so i hope you enjoy it.

i. stressful day

you had one of those days where nothing seemed to go right— coursework was stressful, your to-do list for the day was never-ending, and you just felt drained. 

when you got home, lando immediately noticed how off you seemed. your shoulders were drooped, the way you lazily carried yourself and the biggest giveaway of it all; the look on your face. you looked done, exhausted. lando hadn’t seen you in such a state in a long time. 

with the stream he had in mind now forgotten, he made his way to you as you still stood near the front door. you lazily kicked off your shoes, threw your jacket on one of the pegs and then turned to be met with lando’s sympathetic gaze.

without a word lando wrapped you in a tight hug, holding you to his chest as his cheek rested on top of your head. a soft smile painted its way onto his face when you melted into his embrace, feeling the weight of the day slowly dissipate.

“we don’t have to talk about it,” he whispered, moving so his lips were brushing your forehead. after placing a gentle kiss on the skin he heard a faint sniffle against him, and felt you slightly shake against him. lando gave you a soft squeeze, his right hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. 

“just relax, i’ve got you.”

ii. anxiety 

you’d been spiraling about your future all night, overthinking every possible outcome. lando knew something was up, because you just weren’t yourself. it was as if a shell of yourself was in front of him, and it worried him. you hadn’t spoken to him about anything, and he didn’t want to force it out of you. he knew you’d talk to him when you were ready. 

and it took a few days, but you did eventually go to lando and talk things out. about how you were feeling with the thought of the future in your mind, every little possibility— good and bad. lando was taken aback at the word spew he was presented with, your thoughts were spilling out faster than you could control, which you yourself didn’t even realise. 

but lando listened patiently, never interrupting you. he let you get it all out, no matter how long it took. when you finally paused, a large sigh escaping your lips, lando reached over to take your hands in his own. he gently stroked the back of them with his thumbs, the roughness of his thumb pad a stark contrast to your softer skin. 

“you don’t have to figure everything out right now,” he started, his voice soft. “you don’t have to have everything figured out right now. you’re already doing amazing and i know whatever happens, you’ll be great.”

you felt yourself tearing up as he spoke, not expecting him to comfort you so well with such few words. lando could see the tears welling up in your eyes and couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped his lips, moving one of his hands to your face as he wiped them away. 

“don’t cry love,” he told you, smile still wide on his face. you shook your head and wiped your eyes as you felt more tears well up. 

“that was so sweet, i’ve never heard you be such a softie,” you sniffled, your own shaky laugh escaping you now. lando dramatically gasped, shoving your shoulder gently as another giggle escaped you. 

lando couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you, heart swelling with pride as he realised he was cheering you up, helping you. his hands moved to your sides and you gasped as his fingers worked against you, causing you to let out a burst of laughter as you tried to kick him off. 

“take that back!”

iii. homesick

being away from home for long stretches of time wasn’t new, it was part of your lifestyle now that you were with lando. just because it was part of your life, didn’t make it any easier to handle. this particular race weekend, the distance was hitting you a lot harder than usual. 

lando noticed how much quieter than usual you were; sitting off to the side, staring at your phone, scrolling through old photos of family. it didn’t take a genius to put together what was wrong with you this weekend. 

sitting down next to you, lando placed his hand on your knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. you gave him a weak smile, shutting your phone off and turning towards him so you could give him your full attention. 

“missing home?” he asked gently, testing the waters to see if you wanted to speak about it. when you didn’t verbally reply— with only a nod in return— he could tell it wasn’t a conversation you were wanting to have. lando gave you a sympathetic smile, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“let’s call your family then,” he suggested, nodding his head towards your phone. you were slightly taken aback, as lando had media duties. it wasn’t exactly something he could miss.  

“but you—” you went to try fight back, but lando cut you off immediately. “i still have time, and who says i don’t miss them too?” he winked at you, making a more genuine smile finding its way onto your face. you nodded, and moved your phone so it was in the middle of you both, letting lando see as you tapped to the facetime icon, and started to ring your family. 

“can’t wait for your mum to tell me i’m her favourite.”

iv. insecurities 

you had been feeling off lately, doubting yourself in small ways, but the small things started to build up and it was all weighing on you. you usually managed to talk yourself down from it, realising it was simply overthinking. but this time was different. 

after one particularly rough night with battling your insecurities, you decided to go to lando about it. you confessed to him that you didn’t feel great about yourself lately, lots of little things nagging away at you. 

it scared you how quiet lando was, still and unmoving. it only made you feel worse. but before you could start to overthink about that too, lando’s hands made their way up to your face, cupping your cheeks softly. he let his thumbs brush over your cheeks momentarily before speaking. 

“i don’t want to hear you saying that about yourself,” he told you sternly, and you immediately grimaced and felt bad for bringing it up to him. it was stupid of you, really. 

“sorry, i shouldn’t have mentioned it. i—” you started to apologise, trying to stop the subject but lando pinched your cheek making you yelp. you frowned at him, refocusing your attention on him when you saw his raised brow. 

“no, i’m glad you did. but i don’t want to hear you talking down on yourself like that,” he explained, reassuring you. lando leaned into place a soft kiss on your lips, before pulling back. “you’re my pretty girl, aren’t you?” he asked, smirking as he saw you flush. 

“lando, stop,” you whined, but couldn’t help but kiss him back when he leaned in again. the kiss was longer this time, more passionate than chaste. you let out a small noise when his tongue grazed your bottom lip, pulling on it as he pulled away. he looked into your eyes, and you felt yourself swallowing thickly as you recognised the look that was clouded within his gaze. 

moving his hands off of you, he swiftly moved to pick you up, hands holding you by your ass as he walked you both towards your shared bedroom. your head rapidly switched between the direction you were walking in, and lando’s gave. you gasped when you realised where he was taking you, and the stupid smirk was still on his face. 

dropping you onto the bed, lando had his knees at either side of you, looking down at you as you lay below him. his hands trailed your body and you felt yourself growing more flustered as his touch continued. whining his name you tried to move his hands. 

“no no, let me show my sweet girl how pretty she is.”

v. when you were sick

you had caught a nasty flu from the last trip you and lando were on, which had left you bedridden when you arrived back home. you weren’t too bothered, you knew it would clear up soon enough. lando on the other hand was a different story. you had told him not to worry, that you’d be fine. but lando refused to leave your side, making sure to tend to any and all of your needs. 

it was a week off racing, which worked in his favour for staying with you at all costs. you made sure he was still following his routine, not allowing him to break it because you were ill. when his schedule was free though, he was in bed right next to you, making sure you were okay. 

he brought you warm soup, made sure you were warm enough, and sat with you through every episode of your comfort show that you were now rewatching, hoping it would raise your spirits. 

at one point, as one of the episodes played the intro, you groggily apologised to lando for being so out of it. lando shook his head though, disregarding your apology as one of his hands moved to the stray hairs around your face, gently brushing them away. 

“no apology needed, you’re sick. i don’t expect you to be as alert as you usually are,” he reassured you, leaning into kiss your forehead. your skin was hot, it slightly worried him but he tried to brush off thought, seeing as you told him too many times to count that he shouldn’t be worried. 

you leaned your head against his shoulder, whining about how disgusting you felt when you were sick, and how annoyed you were you couldn’t kiss him on the lips. lando chuckled at the latter, but gave you a small nudge at the first thing you said. he told you he always found you stunning, even if you had major bedhead and a bright red face. it was your turn to give lando a nudge back. 

“i’m being nice! i told you, you’re always my pretty girl.”

+1 when lando needed you

lando had just finished a race, where nothing seemed to go right. an early collision, some strategy mishaps which lead to him not even hitting the points despite all his effort, due to the damage the car has taken. he usually tried to brush off bad races with a witty comment or a joke to the people around him, trying to keep the spirits up a little. but today, you could see the frustration and disappoint evident in his eyes, and the slump in his posture when nobody had their eyes on him. 

you decided to wait for him in his drivers room, allowing him to have his own space before he had to get his post-race duties done. as soon as he had done everything that was required, he practically bolted for his drivers room. 

lando was staring at the floor as he walked into his room, slamming the door shut rougher than usual. looking up he saw you standing with your arms open for him, and he took a couple of slow steps over before he allowed himself to melt into your arms, holding you against him so tightly— as if you’d disappear otherwise. 

you rubbed his back softly, placing your chin on his chest as you looked up to him. you give him a look, one that encouraged him to talk. lando sighed, his voice low and defeated as he spoke up. “today was a fucking failure, i just— i can’t stop thinking about it. thinking about what i should’ve done differently.”

you gave lando a sympathetic look as you leaned up, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “you shouldn’t be dwelling on it, nothing can change now,” you started, your hands moving to his chest as you rubbed slow circles into it.  “it’s just one race, lan. you’ll bounce back, you always do.”

he sighed, leaning his forehead against your own as he shut his eyes. the tension still lingered in his body, but it was starting to slowly ease, now he had you with him. once he opened his eyes to look at you again, you spoke up. 

“you don’t have to be perfect all the time,” you whispered, one of your hands moving up to his hair; playing with his messy curls. “you’re allowed to have bad days, too. i’m here, no matter what.”

a small smile appeared on lando’s face at your reassuring words, his hands resting on your waist as he pulled your body right against his own. “thank you,” he finally spoke up, his eyes meeting yours with a look of vulnerability he rarely showed. “i love you,” he murmured quietly, staring at you expectantly.. desperately. 

“i love you too, so much.”

[nyoomerr]

Luo Binghe Shimeji (Extended Version!)

a couple years ago, riladoo created an adorable binghe shime! he could be picked up and tossed around your computer screens, climb around on all your windows, multiply, and all the other cute things that come in the standard base shimeji set.

more recently, i reached out to riladoo with a commission request - more action sets for binghe! over the past couple months, riladoo has worked hard to make some adorable binghe art, and i've updated all the source code and config files to accommodate the new actions! 🎉

the extended action set includes: - a 'sit and eat' idle action - two 'head patting' actions when the mouse hovers over him - a 'fall and cry' action for when he falls from tall heights - a 'land nicely' action for when you place him down gently

the original binghe shime listing on riladoo's gumroad has been updated to have all these new actions, so go grab him now!! he's free / pay what you want! 🥰

i've put more details about the new action sets + general shimeji setup tips below the cut, but otherwise -- LET THE BINGHE COMPUTER INFECTION COMMENCE !!

**these extended actions only work on windows, not mac. sorry ;w; the original shime set has a mac version, though!

Extended Action Set Details

when you download the files from riladoo, you're looking for the .zip file labeled "Updated Shime code" !

sit and eat this is an idle action that will trigger randomly the same as any other idle action. if you want to trigger it manually, you can right click the shime -> 'set behavior' -> 'sit and eat'

head pats these are 'stay' actions that will trigger automatically when you hover your mouse over the shime. i recommend hovering your mouse over his head for maximum head-pat-effectiveness! unfortunately, this action won't play if the shime is actively climbing a wall/ceiling - maybe in the future this can be extended further, but for now there are only head patting actions for sitting and standing poses :>

falling variations (crying / default / land nicely) there are now a total of 3 'falling' actions. to see the 'fall and cry' action, allow binghe to fall from the top half of your monitor. to see the standard/original 'fall and trip' action, allow binghe to fall from the low-mid range portion of your monitor. to see the 'land nicely' action, gently place binghe down at the bottom of your monitor. this means you're rewarded for catching binghe when he falls off a window - if you catch him and set him down, he lands nicely, but if you let him fall normally, he'll start crying!! 🥰

Shimeji Installation Tips

if you've never had a shimeji before - don't worry, they're super easy to install! i recommend following this video tutorial created by the person who originally created the source code for shimeji. you can skip the parts about downloading the shimeji itself - you'll get that from riladoo's website :>

if you install everything but opening the shimeji executable does nothing, download jarfix to resolve this issue.

if you follow the tutorial and update the 'interactive windows' but the shime still doesn't stand/climb on the specified windows, restart your computer to resolve this issue. alternatively, make sure you don't have any 'unexpected' monitors plugged in - a friend of mine had their shime constantly falling down through their monitor onto their screen drawpad, which was confusing until it got figured out!

if you are on mac instead of windows.... i am so sorry i actually have no idea how to help 🙇‍♂️ the original/default binghe shimeji set DOES have a mac os folder in with the downloads, but i've never tested it (don't use mac), and even if it works, it won't include the extended actions (i didn't build an executable for mac with the new code).

More Questions???

feel free to hit me up! in the replies of this post / through DMs / send an ask - whatever is best for you. i'll tag any asks i get about the shime with #binghe shime chronicles so they get archived nicely. i got very familiar with all the source code / config files to get this lil guy set up with his extended actions, so hopefully i can answer any questions you have! 💪😤

that's all!! i am so happy w how the new actions turned out - the art riladoo did for them is SO cute! - and i hope y'all will be, too!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unraveled 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: thanks for waiting on this one.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The carriage stops outside a brick building. A walk-up in Marleybone, just along Upper Baker Street. An address you couldn’t even dream of living near, let alone within. You peer up at the facade, the orange brick unstained by the coal and smoke of the backstreets. 

Gavin appears to open the door and sets a step down before you can emerge. He offers his hand gallantly and you let him assist you down to the road. You thank him as you peer up at the arched front door of 221b. 

“You need only knock, miss,” Gavin goes to pat the horse’s haunch as it kicks. “Ask for Mr. Holmes, he is expecting you.” 

You grip your bag tight and set your chin. You might not belong but only you are troubled by it. You climb the steps alongside the iron rail and lift the heavy knocker mounted on the thick wooden door. It’s clang rattles even you. 

You wait, both hands on the handles of the bag. Gavin appears behind you with the rolls of fabric, breathless as he struggles to keep them from touching the ground. You return your attention to the door as it opens. 

“Hello, I’m looking for Mr.--” 

“Holmes,” the very man you’re seeking stands before you, “forgive me, my housekeeper... resigned.” 

“Not to worry, sir,” you assure him. 

“Come in,” he backs up, gesturing you within with his large hand. “And how was your journey? I hope you didn’t come upon any scoundrels.” 

“Only upon her destination, sir,” Gavin japes as he steps in behind you. 

“Eh,” Holmes tilts his head at the driver, “allow me.” 

Holmes takes the rolls of fabric from Gavin. He hugs them effortlessly in on arm as he faces you again, dismissing the driver with no more than a nod. You stand rigidly by the wall, hesitant to go any further. The door closes and the click makes you flinch. 

“Allow me to show you around,” Holmes offers, looming in the tight space of the entryway. 

“I need only see your sister,” you insist. 

“Ah, yes, Enola, you will, but it only polite to get you acquainted with the space,” he rebuffs. 

“With respect, sir, I’ve come out of my way and without warning to this appointment. More work does await me at my shop,” you squeeze the leather handles until they squeak, “it is a lovely home, I’m sure, but I’ve come upon business, haven’t I?” 

“Yes, but it wouldn’t take very long,” he counters, “yet, if you’d rather keep this formal, by all means, I will take you to my sister.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

You bite down, wondering if perhaps you were more curt than you should be. The apartment is rather far from your neighbourhood and the travel time alone will impose upon your ongoing commissions. You don’t expect he considered that. He does seem the type to command rather than ask. 

He directs you to the stairs, just across from the door, and waves you onward. He follows as your skirts brush the top of your boots with each step. The wallpaper is tightly decorated with framed newspapers and portraits, cluttered together but not garishly so. 

You get to the top and he advises you to go left. You obey as he keeps pace. 

“Did you... discover what led to that woman’s fate? Or who she was?” You ask as you take measured steps. 

He isn’t demure as he walks next to you, crowded against you as his broad figure allows for little space, “sadly, yes and no. Not her name. Only that she was a factory woman. I won’t say much on the matter as it is ongoing and confidentiality is a part of my contract, I would only gird you to keep your doors locked and yourself alert.” 

You chew on his answer. It makes you nervous. You know the woman was found close to your shop and home. The news has been whispered for blocks. 

“I will be sure to hede your advice,” you say. 

You walk past a door as he stops to knock on it. You spin back, skirts swirling around you, and he glances at you as he plants his hand on the door frame. There is activity from within, scratching and creaking. He sighs and stands straight as he slides his hand down the pillar. He raps with his knuckles again. 

“Enola,” he booms through, his voice shaking you. “I told you to be ready.” 

You hear furious footsteps and the lock flicks back with similar furor. It opens and a young woman with a slumping bun greets Mr. Holmes. Strands fall loose from the clip and her blouse is half untucked as her sleeves are rolled to her elbows. She has a long oval face, flushed as she shows her teeth. 

“I told you, I’m busy--” 

“Not so busy that you would waste this good woman’s time,” Holmes insists, “she traveled all this way. We discussed this.” 

She flutters her lashes and huffs. Her eyes flit over to you and she softens her expression, “if her time is wasted, it is hardly my fault.” 

“Hm,” he hums flatly, “isn’t it? It wasn’t I who fed your dresses to the furnace.” 

She smiles, a smug look that pinches her cheeks, “I was cold.” 

“Sister,” he warns dangerously, crossing his arms, his breadth wider than ever. 

“You know what, I welcome her company. Much preferable to your own,” the woman sneers and turns her shoulder to her brother, “come on, then. Suppose I need a dress for the banquet.” 

You inch forward. A flare of resent burns in you at the position Mr. Holmes has put you in. Plainly, this appointment was not upon his sister’s behest. She holds the door for you and her brother exhales deeply. 

“All you need do is stand still, I’m certain you can handle that, sister,” he rebukes, “do let me know when you are finished and I will call the carriage.” 

“Thank you,” you utter without looking at him. He sets the rolls just inside the door and backs up to watch you. 

You enter the bedroom and find it cluttered and cramped. There are books in stacks with more littered around the bottom. A dried-up paint palette and an easel draped over with several jackets and unpaired stockings. There is a four-post bed with scrambled covers and a canopy twisted around the poles. Vials upon vials line shelves and an inkwell stands uncapped over untidy sheets of paper. 

“Very well,” the woman shuts the door, “I am Enola, the famous detective’s ne’er do well sister and you are the seamstress who will make me a peacock.” 

You stare at her and swallow tightly. You offer your name before you begin, “I’ve only come upon his request--” 

“Ah, yes, I’m certain you have. He’s still trying to make a lady of me. I see through his guise, though he doesn’t think it. He underestimates me, see. He lies but I will go along for I will more easily avoid his snare if I do.” 

You nod and narrow your eyes. The wealthy can always afford to be so eccentric. You don’t think any woman you know would view a new dress as such a curse. She is young, she cannot know. 

“If you don’t mind, I’ll only take your measurements,” you offer, “I can always fit upon the dress form.” 

“Do what you must,” she sighs, “shall I strip down?” 

You put your bag on a chair as she unbuttons her blouse, “not-- if you--” You look up at her as she reveals a corset and reaches to undo her skirt. You focus on your bag and scoop out your measuring tape. 

You approach her as her skirt heaps at her feet. She is tall, her legs on long, her figure lithe. You begin your work silently. She raises her arms as you request and puts them back down. 

“Suppose if I wasn’t here, I might’ve become a dressmaker. I always enjoyed stitching,” she muses as you scribble down each number, “it seems lonely work. Quiet work.” 

“It’s work,” you say as you take out the envelope and unfold the page to examine the dress again. You hold it up and glance past it at Enola. 

“May I see that?” She asks but doesn’t await an answer before she snatches the paper. “Oh, is this really what he chose? No, no, no, this won’t do. I want my shoulders covered.” 

You slip the envelope back in your bag, “it is only what I was given. If you prefer adjustments, it is your dress.” 

“Yes, my dress and my body,” she crumples the paper and tosses it onto the rug. 

You close up your notebook and go to the rolls of fabric, “would it be too much for me to do some piecework?” 

“If you insist,” she pouts. 

You take out your scissors and turn your back to her. She isn’t rude, per se, but you’re not in the habit of associating with this sort of clientele. You get numbers on a sheet and you sew. A living form is not quite your forte. 

-🪡

When you finish, you can sense Enola’s agitated impatience. You don’t blame her. It’s plain she didn’t want the dress or your visit. It is more so upon the shoulders of her brother. Mr. Holmes. You’re similarly irked that he would put you in this position. 

Enola is already fiddling with some instrument before you can go. You emerge and pull the door shut after you. You stand in the hallway, bag at the crook of your elbow as you hug the fabric. You move with hampered steps towards the stairs. As the top creaks beneath your weight, your name is called from further down the hallway. 

“Ah, are you set then?” Mr. Holmes asks as he stops just outside a door, “I was thinking, to make up for your efforts, you might want to stay for tea.” 

You look down at your armful and back to him, “that’s very generous, but--” 

“I believe I paid an adequate fee for the appointment,” he strides slowly towards you, “but I am open to a barter if it was not sufficient.” 

You feel the heavy sovereign tucked into your jacket. You crook your lips and raise your chin, “no sir, it will do for today and the making of the dress. The fabric... I don’t have any as rich as the style requested.” 

“Another service I may require of you. If you wouldn’t mind to select the material, I would be happy to reimburse the expense.” 

“Would there be a colour? A fabric preferred? Velvet? Satin? Chiffon?” You prompt, “I solely work in cotton and wool, as I forewarned.” 

“Perhaps we might find a fabric seller at Covent Garden? You could accompany me on my next sojourn--” 

“I don’t know if I would have the time. I could write down some fabrics which would suit the silhouette we agreed upon,” you offer. 

“Mmm,” he hums, “you are rather professional. How about tea, then? Melinda from across the road sent some mutton over.” 

“The hour should see me back to my shop,” you shift your bag. 

“You are fastidious,” he stops before you and puts a hand on the fabric, “please, allow me, you are overburdened.” 

“I’m--” 

You can’t argue as he takes the fabric from you. You let him have it if only to avoid disaster you lean back on your heel. He angles the rolls under his arm easily and grins. A curl strays down his forehead. 

“I suppose you are right, given recent events, it would be best to see you home before the evening sets,” he says, “I would gladly see you home safe, miss.” 

He is overly polite, or perhaps you aren’t used to it. It is his home, he supplied the carriage, and he has paid generously. It makes each denial feel trite. 

“If you must, but I would be just fine on my own comportment,” you accept. 

“It isn’t any fuss, I will fetch a jacket and the driver,” he extends his arm past you, “after you.” 

You spin on your heel and face the staircase. You descend with your hand on the railing. As you come to the bottom, you wander towards the entry way and take in the fineness of the decor. Is much more becoming than your slanted rooms. 

Mr. Holmes places the rolls just beside the door and takes a jacket from the rack. He pulls it on and tells you to wait before he disappears outside. You linger as you are, sliding your bag down to your hands. 

When he returns, he reaches within to retrieve the fabric first. “Gavin is bringing up the carriage,” he declares and offers his free arm, “shall we?” 

You consider him. You wouldn’t want to be unkind. You step through the door, pulling it shut as you accept his bent arm, your hand in the crook. He accompanies you down the narrow steps, each step crowded by his. 

Gavin appears in the driver’s seat and reins the horse to a halt. The beast looks miserable. Mr. Holmes escorts you to the door and releases you to open it. He helps you with a strong hand and you sit within with your bag on your lap. He shoves the fabric in ahead of him, his head bowed as he fits through the small door. 

He closes it with a snap and settles on the bench on the other side of you. You stare across at the cotton, expecting he’d have taken that seat instead. His leg is on your skirt. 

You keep your hands on your bag. He knocks on the ceiling and the carriage rumbles into motion. You rock with it along the street, silent as you wring the leather handles. 

“I hope my sister did not cause too much stress. I know she can be a lot but she’s old enough now. She should start behaving as a lady,” he spreads a large hand across his thigh. “Perhaps, once she finds a husband, that will be easier.” 

You nod, uncertain of a proper response. 

“Not to mean... I don’t mean to assume, I am known however for my observations, and I have concluded you are not married,” he continues, “I gather if it were the case, you might not have a shop to sew in.” 

“Suppose not,” you reply dully. 

“It is only to say that my opinion of my sister isn’t general. A woman such as yourself is admirable.” 

“A spinster?” You supply. 

“I didn’t--” 

“I’ve chosen not to marry, that is true. I am not bothered by that fact,” you say, “isn’t that what you deal in, detective, facts?” 

“Fair,” he shifts on the bench, “but not everyone can detach emotion from facts.” 

“And why should I be emotional about that fact? I am much more happier than any woman could be with a husband,” you stare at the opposite wall of the carriage. “And I will assume, sir, as I am no detective, that you have neither taken to the altar.” 

He curls the fingers on his left hand, “I have not.” 

“And I’m certain you enjoy your bachelor lifestyle in your grand apartment,” you return, “while my own is not so extravagant, I find solace in it. On that, I think you might understand me.” 

He takes a breath and lets it out with a thoughtful hum, “I suppose we are similar in some way.” 

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

MOST WANTED II (Gangster!Sukuna x Spy!Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

READ PART I WITH MAFIA BOSS!TOJI HERE!

*********

“You’re mine tonight. And if you value your job and your life, you’d better do everything I say.”

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Self-Insert!Reader

Synopsis: After your failed mission with Toji that ended in humiliation—and unwanted hot dreams—, you beg her boss to put you on the next one to bag Sukuna Ryomen, a famous criminal boss and gangster who is wanted for many murders and trafficking jewels. After you’re refused, you go undercover as an escort at a masquerade party to get Sukuna alone and take him in…whether dead or alive. Agreeing to go back with him to his hotel after drinks, flirting and a game of pool, you attempt to complete the mission, but not before Sukuna uncovers your secret and punishes you for lying to him. He’ll show you that nobody fucks with him. And that maybe you’re not as strong or tough as you think you are. Maybe, just maybe…you enjoy being a gangster’s plaything.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Self-Insert!Reader; Reader is Black, Fem & Plus-Sized; Flirting; Sexual Tension; Eye-Fucking; Escort!Reader; Agent!Reader; Action/Fighting; Noncon/R*pe; Dubcon; Handcuffs; Knife Play; Dirty Talk; Mask Kink; Daddy Kink; Degradation; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Facefucking; Choking; Slutification; Objectication; Mean Dom!Sukuna + sub!Reader; Doggystyle; Condescending Sweet Talk; Reader Cums 2x; Facial/Cum on Tits; No Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Got another one for y’all & for my fave @curiouscutie143!! We plan on expanding my “Most Wanted” world, probably even to other characters in the future! I had so much fun writing this AND it’s my first ever Sukuna fic! I hope y’all enjoy reading about that mean ol’ nasty man lol. Kisses! 💋-Jazz

*********

You stand in your bathroom mirror, staring at the woman staring back at you who looks like she could use a drink, a good orgasm, and some sleep.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you ask the woman. She moves her mouth with yours as you speak in the empty bathroom with its tiled walls and hardwood floor. A folder holding your next target sits next to you, a label reading “CLASSIFIED” stamped across the front.

The sound of Friday night in the city—cars honking, someone blasting music from the apartment across from yours—fills the space of your studio apartment. Usually, you would use tonight to order a pizza, watch a movie, or go to the bar across the street to pick up a guy for the night. But tonight, you stand in the mirror in your night slip, hair and makeup already on, getting ready for a party. Not just any party. A masquerade ball. One that is crawling with all kinds of elite figures, celebrities, politicians, business owners…and gangsters.

One of which you have your eye on. You grab the file sitting next to your sink that is littered in traces of makeup, your curling iron sitting unplugged right next to it. You open it with trembling fingers, making it hard to turn the pages. Your anxiety is already taking over. “Stop it,” you mutter to yourself as you finally making it to your target’s photo. You snagged his file a week ago in n secrecy. You had flirted mad hard with one of the file clerks—geeky, unattractive, and painfully awkward—and gave him a hard-on in order to sneak by and get into the file room. It is imperative that your agency have such a room to keep track of your old and new targets.

Ryomen Sukuna is one of the new ones and at the top of your boss’ list in terms of most wanted people. Big in the crime world and well-known for being a “professional killer”, Sukuna is feared in his area of business….which is anything that has to do with crime. Most of his business is underground and unknown to the public, but your agency has been keeping tabs on him for months now ever since other high-demand crime bosses and crooked officials in the city started coming up dead.

According to your team’s findings, Sukuna’s operation stretches across Japan and overseas in New York and London. His men, who are just as devious and dangerous as him, usually do all of his dirty work, including smuggling items and taking out those who threaten Sukuna’s businesses.

But Sukuna isn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty either.

He delves into the areas of illegal drug-smuggling, gun trafficking, imported, exotic seafood, and, mostly recently, jewel smuggling. It seems that Sukuna is a man of history. When a recent thousand-year-old diamond went missing a month ago from a history museum in Tokyo, your boss already had a feeling that Sukuna was behind it. But when a crime boss known for his jewel smuggling wound up dead just a week ago, he knew that Sukuna was most definitely the culprit. The man is like a piranha in the crime world, taking out every other being he deems as weak or a threat to his survival.

But you knew you could get him, especially when you found out that he would be in your city for a masquerade ball to celebrate the presentation of a new line of art worth millions. You knew he was planning something. Possibly even a massacre of potential buyers.

”Let me get him,” you begged your boss. You stood in his office a week ago once the news of Sukuna broke, your hands on your boss’ desk. “I can do this, sir, I promise. I can take care of this for you with my kind of skill.”

Your boss sat behind his desk, looking haggard and exhausted from running such a lucrative company. “V, I already have two agents working on this case.”

“Who?” You asked, but it must’ve came out harsher than you intended because your boss looked at you in alarm. “I won’t disclose that information only because I don’t want you to have any negative feelings towards them as your partners.” You didn’t know what to say. All you could do was stare down at your hands that laid flat on the wooden surface of the desk. “Boss, I can do it,” you said, your voice soft and shaky. You hated sounding so weak.

“It’s not that I don’t think you can do it, V,” he said, his voice gentle but affirmative like a father. “I’m only looking out for your safety and best interest.”

“My best interest,” you scoffed, unable to swallow back your pride or bitterness. “You and I both know that this is about what happened with Toji. You think I can’t handle this just like I couldn’t handle him.”

Your boss looks away from you, staring at his much-needed cup of coffee instead. You feel all of the air rush out of your lungs as he confirms it without confirming it.

It has been five months since your ordeal with Toji Fushigiro. You haven’t caught wind of him since he left you in that strip club, covered in his cum and completely humiliated. The walk of shame back to your apartment after receiving medical attention and a week of paid absence was even worse.

You did nothing but stew in your apartment, filled with bitterness, humiliation, and revenge. You often had dreams of the crime boss, your plump body squeezed between his big arms and his muscular body on top of yours as he drove his cock into you. You would awaken in the night, sweating and your panties soaked in arousal from the flashes of that night.

Toji had ruined you, but he didn’t break you entirely. You knew that you could put the pieces back together and redeem yourself if you got on another mission, which is where Sukuna came in. If you could just convince your boss to put you on this case, you could show him, yourself, and everyone that you were stronger than the likes of Toji.

“Please, sir,” you begged. “What happened with Fushiguro will never happen again. I know what I’m doing. Have I ever failed you before?”

Your boss turned back to face you, his expression apologetic but firm. “V, it’s not that I don’t trust you,” he explains. “You’re the most overqualified agent and hit woman we have here…but what happened with Fushiguro was serious. Your health and safety was seriously threatened.” He pauses, biting his tongue. “What is it?” you pushed, your heart hammering in your chest.

He ran a hand through his graying hair, sighing to himself. “We also found out that Ryomen is a close contact to Fushiguro,” he added. “They had been in business with each other before and worked with the same clients.” He took a sip of his coffee as if to calm himself. “You’re too close to the case, V. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay out of this one and wait until we get another case to put you on.”

That was the end of it. There was no convincing him. You walked out of there with tears in your eyes and feeling exposed to the whole department as the hit woman who became a slut for a crime boss. When you got home that night, you downed a bottle of wine and told yourself that you wouldn’t let this happen. No more self-deprecating or feeling sorry for yourself. No more thinking of Toji, his dirty words, and his big, beautiful cock.

You wouldn’t allow this type of disrespect for ANYONE. So if you were going to redeem yourself, you would do it without your boss’ approval. This is for you now and you alone.

So here you are now, about to go against your boss’ wishes and the rules of your profession by inserting yourself in a case that has nothing to do with you. But you were prepared. You would find Sukuna, seduce him, and turn him into the authorities at means necessary…even if that means making him bleed.

You turn away from the mirror and look down at your vanity stool where your outfit for tonight’s event is laid out nicely for you—a strapless red dress with a slit in the thigh, a diamond set, and red bottom heels. Most importantly, a mask encrusted in diamonds sits waiting for you to put it on.

You pick up the mask and hold it in your hands, feeling the ridges of the diamonds against your fingertip. “Okay,” you say to yourself, feeling adrenaline fill your veins. “Let’s do this.”

**********

When you arrive at the ball, it is in full swing and brimming with luxury, excitement and the energy of the nightlife crowd.

The party is located downtown in a high-end, five star hotel ballroom. It is shockingly easy for you to get in, but then again, as a renowned hit woman, you know exactly how to blend in. All you had to do was slink by while the security guard posted in front of the hotel was busy with another masquerading couple.

As soon as you walk in, you are bombarded by the sound of a live band playing classical music and the aura of luxury. It is all around you—on the snack table where a crystal bowl of punch and champagne flutes sit; in the tasteful decorations of feathers, streamers, and entertainment blowing fire, making the crowd gasp; in the conversations and laughs of the guests decked out in their best designer and masks.

There are so many masks of all colors and kinds, making you blend in perfectly with the crowd. You keep your silver clutch close to your side, your little Glock hidden beneath your lipstick tube switchblade…and your lipstick. You can’t ever leave the house without your MAC.

You begin to look around the room, Sukuna’s face in your mind’s eye. You studied his appearance for days before coming here. Though you have no idea what he’ll be wearing tonight, you know that once you see him, you’ll know that it’s him.

“Drink, ma’am?” a voice suddenly asks. You jump slightly and turn around, finding a smiling waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes. “Oh, yes,” you reply. “Thank you.” You give him a red-lipped smile and take one before he walks away to serve someone else. You might as well drink and try not to act so tense. Any kind of slip and your act will be exposed. You already know Sukuna’s men are slinking around here too.

You decide to walk over to one of the snack tables where a couple stands with their own snack tables, both matching in their rich, violet clothes. You give them a nod as you take a plate, lower your glass on the table, and randomly gather some cheese cubes onto your plate.

Beside you, the male in his gold mask and long, wavy hair, leans in towards his partner. “He’s in here somewhere,” he murmurs. “Keep your eyes peeled.” Immediately, you know exactly who he is. A C.O.D.E. agent. You sneakily eye him and his partner who glares at him behind her leopard-printed mask that somehow meshes with her violet gown. “And keep your mouth shut,” she hisses. “This place is crawlin’ with his men.”

You plop some veggies onto your plate and dribble on some ranch dressing, still listening. “Sorry,” the male mutters. “It’s my first mission, okay? I only got transferred to Japan just a month ago!”

The woman rolls her eyes and drops his arm from hers. “Stay here,” she sighs before she struts off in her heels. Her partner watches her go and you can feel his irritation radiating off of her. “Bitch,” he mutters before he presses down onto his left ear, obviously calling someone. Probably your boss to tell him that he hates his partner and wants to abort the mission. You nearly laugh and have to bite your lip to keep from giggling.

These are the agents your boss sent out tonight to get Sukuna? Them?! This guy was just transferred a month ago from wherever-the-fuck and he’s already messing up! Even on your first mission, you knew to always keep your guard up and act the part, wherever, however.

The male walks away to a nearby table, talking as he does to your boss or someone else at headquarters. You scoff to yourself, actually offended. How could your boss send someone like this ameture on a mission? But you’d show him. You nibble on a broccoli stalk and some cheese as you begin to scan the room, nodding at anyone who passes. Your eyes pass the stage to the far left where the exit into the hotel lobby is.

There, you see him. He is chatting with two men in suits and their own masks, a glass of champagne in his big hand. Each thick finger is inked and adorned in silver rings that wink at you under the bright lights. He is big and tall—about 6’6 at least. His big frame fills out his black suit and tie outfit which is rather plain for such a gaudy party.

But the blackness of his suit makes the pink of his hair, fluffy-looking yet spiked, and his red mask pop. At first glance, his mask reminds you almost of the Devil. It’s a fitting look for him, you suppose. He isn’t flashy, but he still looks rich. Like he has no problem making such a statement with his outfit and red-bottom shoes.

But you doubt that anyone would have anything to say to Sukuna Ryomen about anything he wears.

He tugs on his right ear where several small hoops, including a cartilage piercing, hang. From where you stand, you can see that his neck is roped in tattoos as well. He says something to the men and gives them a smirk before turning and walking through the exit.

You wait until the men depart and drain your champagne before tossing your snacks away. The hunt is on now. Keeping an eye on your fellow agents, you strut across the room to the exit, paying no attention to the gents who have their eyes on your bouncing chest, thighs, and ass. You finally make it to the hotel lobby and quickly scan the area, looking for Sukuna’s broad shoulders and long legs. You immediately find him at the entrance of a bar on the right hand side chatting with a doe-eyed waitress who immediately giggles and guides him into the bar.

You follow, the click of your heels against the marbled floor egging you on. The swanky, dimly-lit bar is damn near packed when you walk in. Most of its patrons are from the ball with the exception of businessmen at happy hour and women in their finest looking to score a rich man for the night. You spot Sukuna sitting at the end of the bar and passing the bartender a twenty-dollar bill for his shot (and bottle) of whiskey. About three stools down is a plump, balding man in a wolf mask and an Armani suit, his face flushed from too much to drink.

Immediately, you get an idea. Smirking to yourself, you strut over to the bar, brazenly staring at both the wolf and Sukuna who both have their eyes on you. You sit down beside the balding wolf, giving him a small smile in greeting. You place your clutch on the bar where you wave your manicured nails at the bartender. “One martini with five olives, please,” you order. The bartender nods and begins to ready your drink.

The wolf, on his fourth or fifth Bourbon, sloppily smirks beside you. Perhaps he thinks it makes him look sexy. “Five olives?” He chuckles. “You storin’ for the winter, Ms. Red?” His eyes graze down your body from behind the eye holes in his mask.

“Just for this party,” you joke. “Why? Do you suggest somethin’ more delicious than olives, Mr. Wolf?” You put a sultry, seductive lilt into your voice, leaning your chin into your hand. You hope Mr. Wolf catches on…which of course, he does.

“If you’re interested in what’s at the snake table, sure,” he replies, his voice low and teasing. He suddenly digs into his pocket, fishing out a twenty. “Here. A pretty thing like you shouldn’t buy her own drink.”

“I appreciate that,” you giggle, taking the money from him just as the bartender returns with your drink. “How can I repay you for such a kind act?” You lean forward and press your tits enticingly against the bar to which Mr. Wolf shamelessly stares at. You think you hear Sukuna scoff behind you, making your neck feel hot. But you don’t dare turn around. Not yet.

Mr. Wolf opens his mouth to say something either dumb or lecherous, but a slender blonde in a cat mask and a skin-tight dress struts up to him. “There you are!” she scoffs, rather loud. “I’ve been calling you nonstop! You dragged me to this damn party and then you just left me alone to come drink some more?”

She is so loud that it drowns out the jazz music playing overhead, catching the eye of the others in the bar. Mr. Wolf lowers his Bourbon, sighing to himself. “Karen, please don’t start,” he mutters, seething with rage. “You begged me to take you here.”

The woman—Karen—ignores him and turns to you. “And who is this?” She demands, scowling at Mr. Wolf. “Another one of your ‘business partners’?” The sound of shocked laughs and whispers drift in the tense, musky air. Mr. Wolf looks at you apologetically as he slides off of his stool, nearly falling. “Sorry,” he whispers. You give him a smile as he walks off with his nagging…girlfriend? Wife? Sugar baby? As if hearing your thoughts, Sukuna answers them for you. “I could’ve told ya he was married,” he chuckles. His laugh is smooth and rich yet deep and lethal, like a shot of whiskey.

You turn to him, raising a brow at him as you sip your martini. “How do you know?” you question. “He didn’t have a ring on his finger.”

Sukuna chortles again as if you’re some dumb little girl he needs to school. “Don’t have to. Rings can come off, ‘specially at events like these.” He takes a sip from his shot glass, eyeing you across the rim. “There’s plenty of pretty women like yourself swimmin’ around here for the pickin’.”

His gaze is hot like fire licking across your exposed skin. The air that Mr. Wolf and his wife left tense becomes even more so. But you straighten your neck and regard him with a smirk. “Like me?” you scoff. “I doubt he could’ve even been able to afford me.”

You take another sip of your martini, leaving a red stain on the rim, before fishing out the toothpick rowed with olives. You pluck one off with your teeth, knowing that Sukuna is watching. ‘Just keep up the act. Hook, line, and sinker.’

“Sooo you’re one of those city girls, huh?” You turn to him, silently asking him to elaborate. “The kind who chase the bag and never look back at the broken hearts they leave behind?” His smirk is playful. Almost sneaky.

“Close,” you reply. You place your toothpick back in the glass and lean in to give him a shot of your cleavage. “Merchandise,” you vaguely explain, accentuating each syllable with your plump, red lips.

Sukuna carefully watches as if attempting to pick your features apart behind your mask. He leans back on his stool, smirking. “So I was right: this is a ‘pay for the night’ situation. I had a hunch.”

“Oh, you did?” you scoff. “You a cop?” He nearly snorts into his glass. “Not even close, mama,” he chuckles. You cock your head to the side, acting curious. “Then what do you do? You already have my occupation, so what kinda work got you here?”

“I thought we were talkin’ ‘bout you,” he smoothly remarks, eyeing you down. “That’s some dress you got on.” You give him a look, standing your ground. Finally, he gives in defeatedly. I’m a…man of all types of businesses. I’m kind of an arts conasor, I guess you could say. I’m big in tradin’, auctions, collectin’…” Trafficking. Criminal activity. Killing. “Cool,” you reply, nodding. “Oh, I’m V, by the way. Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

Sukuna chuckles, his crimson red alight with mischief. “Well, I know you’re fine,” he jokes. “Little spitfire, ain’t ya?” You can tell he likes your wittiness. Most men like him do. “Apologies, V. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He puts his big, ringed hand out for a shake. You take it, ignoring the zing of electricity that shoots up your arm as his fingers clasp yours. “Sukuna,” he says, his voice suddenly deeper than before. Quickly, you take your hand away and place it in your lap. If he notices, he doesn’t act like it, instead lighting himself a cigar. “Mind if I smoke?” he asks, regarding you with those blood-red eyes. You shake your head. “Not at all. So what brings you to this riveous party, Sukuna?”

Your target wraps his lip, pierced lips around the cigar, inhaling before exhaling the smoke. “Business. Money. Potential clients and partnerships. I ain’t much of a party person as I’m sure you can tell.” He gives you a smirk. “I’m guessin’ you’re here for business too?” You chuckle, liking his blunt humor. “I got a call from a regular client of mine to come here. He’s a big-time CEO—the owner of a chain of gas companies. He asked me to come here, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

You come up with the lie on the spot and make a show of looking around for your imaginary client. “Hope he’s not playin’ me out,” you huff. “He’s been generous before, but he’s also generous with other women much younger than me.”

“Well, I’d be glad to give ya some company,” Sukuna says. “Between you and me, that guy sounds like a dickhead for even invitin’ you here.” You tilt your head at him, curiously and flirtatiously. “Why is that?” you ask.

Sukuna takes another drag of his cigar, and as the smoke escapes his nostrils, he looks so much like the Devil appearing in a gray cloud to you. ‘Cause this place is crawlin’ with guys like me. And I always get what I want.” He gives you a white-toothed smile that sends shivers down your spine and suddenly, your facade slips a bit.

But not until you’re fortunately distracted. “Sukunaaaa!” someone suddenly shouts from the other side of the bar. He is in a fox mask and black suit with a red tie, standing among other powerful and rich-looking men. “Come! Play a game with us!” The other men agree, shouting him over.

You and Sukuna share a look, him looking like he wants to be anywhere but over there. “Come on,” you chuckle. “I don’t know how to play, but I’ll watch you. I can be your good luck charm.” You sip on your martini as you rise to your feet, waiting for him to follow. After some thought, Sukuna gets up, standing a whole head taller than you. “If ya say so, but be prepared for looks.”

Together, you walk side by side over to the pool table. Just as he said, you gain the curious eye of every man surrounding the pool table, cigars and drinks in hand. The entire area smells of cigar smoke and expensive cologne. Wealth. Sukuna introduces you to the men and you pretend to act flattered as the men kiss your hand and compliment you on your dress.

You stand among them and drink your martini, sizing up Sukuna and his gang. You don’t know if any of them are “his people”, but you stay on guard anyway, sipping as little alcohol as you can. You watch them play pool together, laughing when you’re supposed to and answering questions when asked but not giving too much about yourself away.

Sukuna is pretty quiet most of the time, primarily focused on the game. He is very meticulous; a strategist at pool. His long fingers twirl around his pool stick, his eyes sizing up each player and the eight balls that roll this way and that along the green table. He is good, you admit. He knows just where to shoot and how to do it, betting on each ball with the probability of an expert.

But Mr. Crane—a banker in a crane mask and dark blue suit—is on his ass having gotten close in points. He stands there laughing and joking about while Sukuna sizes him up. “Oooh, I think you’ve got some competition, Mr. Sukuna,” you whisper. “He’s winning.”

Your target grunts in disagreement. “Not for long,” he growls. “I don’t ever lose.” You hum to yourself, staring up at him through your lashes. “You sure about that?”

Now Sukuna turns to you fully and you realize just how tall he is. You have to stand back a bit to even look at him. “Do me a favor,” he purrs, his eyes hooded from the smoke. “Wager somethin’ with me.”

Your heart thunders in anticipation for his next words..but you don’t expect them even when they come out. “If I win this game, you ditch that client who stood ya up and spend the night with me.”

Sukuna’s tatted hand goes for his pocket, patting it. “And trust me, mama: I’ve got the money for it.” A shit-eating grin crosses his lips, showing you the two gold canines embedded in his lower row of teeth.

”And if you lose?” you ask, alarmed by how breathless you sound. Sukuna passively shrugs. “Then I’ll buy you a drink and slip ya the money anyway.” You take a moment to think on this. He could be lying. He could be testing you. But figuring you’ve got a weapon, you agree by clinking your glass with his. “Deal.”

Sukuna’s smile grows, almost looking joyous at your agreement. The game continues and you watch with bated breath as he and Mr. Crane go head to head. You sip your martini, not even noticing how less tense you seem from the alcohol or how bright the lights have become or how hot you seem or how Sukuna shoots the last two balls into a pocket because Mr. Crane missed. Oh, shit. You gape at the astonished player and then at Sukuna. He turns to you, prideful and giddy. “Oh, would you look at that,” he whispers. “I win.” You get a bad, bad feeling in your gut, but you ignore it. Big mistake on your part.

You swallow hard, fixing your mouth into a flirty smile. “So how would you like to spend the night with me, Mr. Sukuna?”you ask. The gangster shrugs, acting clueless. “I dunno…dancing, drinking, or your legs wrapped around my head. It’s your choice.” Suddenly, the obvious sexual tension that has been in the air erupts as soon as the vulgar words are out in the open. You feel your tongue become heavy and your nipples harden beneath your dress. You ignore it all. You can’t be hot over this criminal. Not again!

“You stayin’ here?” you ask though you already know the answer. He nods, his expression lustful. “Let’s get out of here then. I’d like to come back and get some cake from the party though.”

He nods again and lays a hand on your lower back, leading you out of the bar and into the lobby where you walk to the elevators. When you’re finally alone with him behind the elevator doors, you momentarily think about sliding your gun out of your clutch and shooting him, ending this now.

But when his hand slowly slides down your backside to grip your ass, you bite your lip and hold firm. ‘Not yet. In time.’ Finally, the elevators open up onto a hotel suite that looks more like a penthouse. There is a foyer in the middle of the room with glass tables, a private bathroom near the exiting door, plush furniture overlooking a flat-screen, and a small kitchenette with an attached island and mini-bar.

Your heels click as you walk into the suite, admiring the luxurious room. “Nice setup,” you comment. You twirl around to face Sukuna as the elevator doors shut. You’re glad you remembered to wear gloves. You don’t need to leave any fingerprints here. “It’s a little small for my tastes.” Sukuna strides toward you, reaching you in about three steps on his long legs. “But then again, I don’t use this room to sleep.”

Silently, he takes you by the hand and leads you into the large bedroom suite on the right hand side. The walls are painted an indigo blue, giving the room a calm sensation that the king-sized bed in the middle doesn’t. Two plush armchairs sit across from it near a balcony overlooking the city beyond, the moonlight shining onto the bed’s crossed ceiling and bedposts guarding each side of the headboard and the bottom of the bed.

You turn to Sukuna to say something, anything to take the edge off of you, but you’re silenced when he takes a seat at the end of the bed. He sits with his legs spread and his hands in his lap. Even from here, you can tell that he is hard—his dick print is pulsing beneath his slacks. “Take that off,” he demands. “Let me see you.”

Showtime. You lay your clutch down near your feet within arm’s reach before you reach back to slooooowly unzip your dress. The beautiful, red garment slips off of you, leaving you in your strapless corset, panties, and nylon stockings. All trimmed with lace. All sexy. You purposely chose this outfit because the corset lifts your breasts in a way that is enticing and your panties hug your ass, making it plumper and much fatter.

Sukuna gives a sharp intake of breath before he takes off his jacket and starts reaching for his tie. You chuckle though your blood runs hot. “Oh, startin’ already? I didn’t take you as the eager type.” The gangster smirks, yanking his tie off of his throat. “And I didn’t take you as a liar,” he replies.

You blink at him, startled by his words. “W-What?” you stammer. Sukuna continues to strip, unbuttoning each button on his top. “You agreed to let me do whatever I want if I win. I’m askin’ you to take off everything. Includin’ the mask.” He still gives you that humored smirk as his top comes off, revealing a tattooed chest and big, muscular arms to you roped in ink.

You can feel your anxiety peaking. Your stomach is roiling and you feel sick. “I’m not taking off the mask,” you firmly say. Now Sukuna’s smile fades. He looks confused as if he can’t figure you out. “You disobey me?” he asks.

You swallow, not liking how that sounds. “I’m just not comfortable with that. I don’t want you seeing me. It’s something I do with every client.” You keep up with your role, hoping that he’ll take that as an answer…but you’re wrong. He fixes you with a laser-hot look that you don’t like. “You sure?” he asks. “Or are you just tryna save yourself from your sinkin’ ship?”

“What are you talking about?” you snap, glaring at him. You stagger back as he suddenly gets up and walks over to the nightstand. As he does, you quickly unzip your gun and place it behind you in the waistband of your panties. Better to be ready than not at all.

Sukuna turns to you then, holding a glittering diamond wrapped in cloth in his palm. Your eyes widen at the sight of the stolen jewel from the museum. “This is what you want, right?” he asks. “This is what you’re lookin’ for?” His smirk grows into something menacing and almost mocking. “Or is it me you’re lookin’ for, V? It is V, right?”

‘Oh, my God. Not again.’

Sukuna knows he’s got you judging by the deer-in-headlights look you’re sporting on your face despite the mask. “Can I ask you what your plan was tonight?” he asks. Not waiting for an answer, he continues: “What, you thought you’d seduce me, get me up here, suck my dick a bit, and then slap some cuffs on me so you can save the day?”

He snorts at the mere thought of it, the diamond still in his palm. “Stupid girl. I know all about you. Toji and I are close in this business.” He begins to walk toward you, slowly and teasingly like a serial killer who takes joy in scaring his victims before the final kill. He told me aaall about how he used that pussy till it was sore and got away in the end.”

You grow hot at the vulgarity of his taunting words, even more so at the fact that your cover has been blown again. “So what now?” you ask, dropping the act entirely. “You gonna kill me?”

Sukuna places the diamond on a nearby dresser right where a few bottles of wine sit. “I should…but I won’t. After all, we’re up here now.” His eyes grow dark and lustful, frightening you. “So I’m gonna do just what I planned to do: I’m gonna fuck you like I paid for you.” And he definitely is a man who will act on what he says.

Quickly, you take the gun out of your panties and aim it at him. Sukuna stops moving, standing as still as a statue. “Stand back,” you growl. “You come any closer and I’ll put a bullet in you.” One finger sits on the trigger, ready to press down at any given moment.

Anyone else would cry, flinch, beg for their lives…but not Sukuna. He is as stone cold as the look in his eyes. He takes another step toward you, then another, until his chest is pressed against the barrel of your gun. “Do it,” he growls. “I fuckin’ dare you, bitch. Shoot me.”

And so you do. Despite your hammering heart and shaky hand, you pull the trigger….only to hear a click. You pull again, hearing a click. Nothing. “What?” you whisper to yourself, staring at your gun. It’s the perfect advantage for Sukuna to take, which he does by slapping you dead in your face.

With a shout, you fall to the ground, your gun clattering to the floor. You check your lip for blood, finding only smudged lipstick. This motherfucker ruined your makeup! “Slipped into your clutch while you were chattin’ with that wolffish slob,” he explains, grinning evilly at you. “You’d think a hitwoman would be a little more savvy.”

Now you’re angry. He’s insulting your intelligence. Embarrassing you. Humiliating you. “Oh, I am,” you snarl. “I was gonna go easy on you, but now…I’m just gonna make you bleed. Do not ever underestimate me, dickhead.”

You lunge at him and grab onto his belt, using all your might to yank him down onto the floor. As soon as he’s down, you place your arm over his stomach and leap onto him, straddling him. Ignoring his smile and handsome features, you raise a hand to punch him, but his hand shoots out to grab your neck.

You grunt, trying to break his hold which he uses as a distraction to pull you off of him. Back onto the floor you go with the gangster on top of you. He forces your wrists at the top of your head, his big hands gripping and pinning them down to the floor.

“Nice try,” he chuckles, his big body pressing into yours. “I’ve seen better though.”

You try to buck him off, but he wedges one knee between your plump, soft inner thighs, his belt buckle pressing into your pelvis bone. You gasp, feeling suffocated. “St-Stop!” you stammer. “Don’t—“ You’re rudely cut off as his knee glides against your crotch, giving you a spark of pleasure. A soft moan leaves your lips followed by a rush of hot embarrassment.

Sukuna notices, his crimson eyes glinting like a cat’s in the night. “Oh,” he coos. “Was that a moan, babygirl? You like this?” He rolls his hips down into yours, unfortunately causing that same spark of pleasure to explode in your core. He cackles, overjoyed by this. “Maybe this is what you came here for: to get fucked by a gangster. I’m better than Toji though. I promise you that.”

He sits fully on top of you, straddling your waist, and reaches for your clutch. “Let’s see what ya got in here, shall we?” He turns your clutch over, causing each content of it to fall out onto the floor. Your lipstick and switchblade. Your phone. Your powder compact. And a pair of silver handcuffs.

Sukuna’s brow raises in interest and he gives you a smile that makes you damn near sick. He snatches the cuffs before you can reach them and suddenly gets off of you. Before you can wonder what’s happening, he flips you over onto your stomach and begins yanking you across the floor by your ankles. An animalistic grunt leaves your lips as you try to grab onto something to slow your trip, but it’s to no avail.

So you begin trying to kick him, hitting his arm and his leg. You try to get his balls, but you end up getting his knee. “Oooh, bratty!” he cackles. “I’m gonna have some fun with you, whore. You’re dressed for the part already.”

He is rough with you now, taking great pleasure in your shouts of pain and desperation. Finally, he forces you over to the nearest bedpost and yanks on your wrists. You wriggle and squirm, trying to escape him, but you can’t do much when the cuffs are clicking around your wrists.

Clank, clank.

You panic, trying to shake your wrists out, but the chain linking the cuffs together are looped around the bedpost. You are trapped. Sukuna stands back with his hands up his hips, admiring his handiwork. “There we go,” he chuckles. “Nice and tight. You look so good for me right now.”

You turn to stare at him, on your knees and cuffed to the post. “Fuck you,” you growl. His smirk grows along with his cock in his pants. “Oh, not yet, mama, but I’m glad you’re so eager.”

You begin to scream and clatter the cuffs around, making as much noise as you can to alert someone. Anyone. But when the familiar barrel of a gun presses into your backside, you pipe down. “Shut the fuck up,” he growls. “You’re mine tonight. And if you value your job and your life, you’d better do everything I say.”

He uses the gun to press it underneath your chin and turn you to face him. “Understand?” he growls, his red eyes glaring. You know better than to argue or scream or curse. So you swallow your pride and everything you learned from C.O.D.E. training. “Y-Yes,” you whimper.

Sukuna’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree at your obedience. “‘Yes, sir’ is the correct response, but I’ll let you off this one time.” He keeps his gun in his hand, but doesn’t aim it at you anymore. “Now if you wanna do somethin’ else with that mouth besides complain and talk shit, I’ve got an idea.”

His smile fades as he watches you watch him, his gaze molten hot and lustful. You have no choice but to watch him unbuckle his pants with one hand and pull his cock out. Your eyes widen at inch at his long, thick, pulsing shaft protruding from a nest of pink curls.

“Suck my cock,” he demands, his tone firm and serious. “Apologize to me for all of the lies and deceit. Oh, and look up here while you do it.”

You feel your eyes watering and your lips quivering. Everything in you is screaming at you not to comply…but there is one part nesting in the deepest, darkest depths of your being that is interested and curious. The same part of you that emerged in that VIP room with Toji five months ago.

Swallowing your pride, you start by kissing and licking along Sukuna’s shaft, introducing yourself to his cock. He softly groans and hums in enjoyment at your ministrations, pushing his hips forward.

He does so in a way that makes his cock slip between your lips and in your mouth without your permission. You gasp as his thick cock passes the threshold of your mouth, the taste of him all over your tongue. “That’s a good girl,” he moans, using one hand to grab the back of your head.

He pushes you forward onto his dick, taking him deeper into your mouth. You force yourself to open your throat and to breathe through your nostrils in an effort not to choke. He’s about as big as Toji with a thick, bulbous head, heavy balls, and—

Click.

Your eyes tick up to see Sukuna with your phone in his face, the gun now in his pocket. How did he break your code? Did he use Face ID? His cock slips out of your mouth and you take a moment to gasp in some air. “What are you—?”

“Just givin’ you some encouragement and persuasion,” he cuts in, smirking. “After all, you need to do a good job, don’t you? And I would just hate for your boss to somehow see this if you—“

“Don’t!” you cry, tears springing into our eyes. “Fine, I’ll do it! Just don’t send anything!” You want to shield yourself from the camera eye of your phone, but you can’t. You can’t do anything.

Sukuna keeps the camera on you, the threat of pictures or videos looming over you. “Open up then,” he growls. “And don’t even think about usin’ teeth…but you’re a good, smart girl, so I doubt you’ll try it with me.”

His cock pulses in front of you and you shiver. You don’t know if it’s out of repulsion or excitement. Either way, you suck on his cock like you mean it, hollowing your cheeks to take him easier. Sukuna lets out a loud, throaty groan, one hand tangled in your hair.

“That’s it, mama,” he groans. “Take that fuckin’ cock. Y’know, you’re better at this than ya are fightin’.” He pushes in deeper, making you gag and nearly triggering that button in the back of your throat to vomit. “You should think about changin’ occupations…bein’ a little cocksucker is way more fittin’ for ya.”

He begins to fuck your face now, slowly at first, but he is still brutal and rough. You have to force yourself to keep breathing to avoid throwing up all over his dick. “You could be my little cocksucker,” he growls. “My cock slut. My whore. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

You gurgle and gag in response, your throat forced to flex around his cock interrupting its natural state. You feel as if your throat and mouth are being molded into his personal fleshlight with the way he fucks your face, grunting and groaning like a desperate man. His balls slap against your chin, filling your nose with the scent of his cologne and his cock.

You’ve never been used in such a way. You are being resorted to nothing but a toy. A hole for his own use. Saliva drips from your chin and down onto your tits, making you slick and messy…just like another part of you between your thighs. The more he fucks, the more your cunt throbs and pulses in anticipation for it to be fucked the same way.

What is wrong with you?

You can only ask yourself this question more as Sukuna’s thrusts grow rougher and stronger, his fingers digging into your scalp. “Fuck, baby,” he grunts. “You’re about to make me cum. You’d better fuckin’ take it…take it, bitch!”

Finally, with a few more brutal thrusts that steal your air away, Sukuna lets out a loud moan and cums deep down your throat. Your moans of protest and shock are muffled as his cock pushes deep, ropes of warm cum shooting down your throat.

“Take it,” he pants. “Take my fuckin’ cum. I know you want all of it.” He begins to rock his hips slowly, riding out his orgasm as he gives you more and more of his spunk. You take all of it because what other choice do you have?

When he finally pulls away, a string of cum-mixed saliva attaches itself to your bottom lip. He grips your chin, forcing you at look at him. “Show me your mouth,” he demands. “I wanna see it. Stick out your tongue and don’t let a single ounce drop.”

You do as he says, carefully sticking out your tongue so he can see the pool of cum on it. He smiles, patting your cheek. “That’s a good girl. Now swallow.” And like an obedient puppet, you close your mouth and swallow his cum before he gives you a long, wet, open-mouthed kiss that steals your breath away.

When he pulls away, he honestly looks…softer. Like he’s in love with what he sees. “Now,” he coos, wiping a drop of spit off of your lips with his thumb, “let me give you a reward for such a job well done.”

You let him grab your arm and force you onto your feet. Your body feels unbalanced and your legs are wobbly. To some degree, you’re thankful for the support of the post to hold you up as Sukuna’s big hands glide down your ass and thighs. Then, suddenly, you feel his breath caressing your asscheeks and something cool on your skin.

You realize what it is when you feel your panties slice off of your body. A knife. “Please,” you whimper. Sukuna chuckles, humored by your humiliation and fear. “Don’t fret, mama. This is just to get these panties off…if you’re good, that is.” He presses the cool metal of the knife into your thigh, making you feel the jagged edges.

“You can be a good girl for me, can’t you?” he whispers, a wicked smile in his voice. He doesn’t give you the chance to answer before lightly licking you against your slit. You gasp, your wrists straining against the cuffs. His big hands glide up to force your hips back, causing your ass to jut into his face.

Sukuna hums in enjoyment, licking and sucking away at your pussy that seems to grow wetter with every ministration of his tongue. How is he so good at this? You try to hold back your moans, but you can’t. Plus, the knife against your thigh doesn’t allow you. One wrong move or something that he doesn’t like and that knife could be cutting your skin.

So let him do as he pleases. But you don’t really have a choice either. All you can do is grip the pole you’re shackled to as Sukuna sucks on your pussy lips and swirls his tongue around your clit before he dips the muscle inside of you. Your mouth falls open on a loud moan, his soft lips cushioning your clit. Your thighs begin to quiver and you feel your body shake in pleasure.

You hate how good this feels. And you especially hate that the man you hate is making you feel this good.

Sukuna lightly pulls on your pussy lips, earning a whimper from you. “Isn’t this so much better than fightin’ me, baby?” he asks before French kissing your cunt once again. He kisses you sloppily and messily, his tongue licking and sliding this way and that. “Fuckin’ slut,” he growls, gripping your asscheek and giving it a smack. “You’re so desperate for me. It’s what you should be.”

He moves the knife to your lower stomach, pressing the tip into your lace bra. Your pulse jumps as you feel it puncture a hole in it, ruining the bra and grazing against one of your breasts. “Please,” you whine. “Please!”

Sukuna smiles, still licking and sucking your pussy with all of the vigor of a hungered man. “I like you beggin’,” he replies. “Do it again for me. Beg real pretty for me, slut.” You have no choice when he continues on slurping on your cunt and fucking your hole, his nose swiping against your clit.

“Please, please, please!” you sob. “Please let me cum!” Your begging must satisfy Sukuna because his tongue moves a little faster, his pace causing your body to quake against the restrictions of the cuffs. His hot, wet mouth causes your orgasm to wash over you quickly yet powerfully, controlling every part of your body. You let out a whine of pleasure as your cum explodes in Sukuna’s mouth, drenching his lips and chin in your juices.

The aftershocks come and your body starts writhing, causing you to grip the pole for dear life. Sukuna hums in satisfaction, cleaning you up as you writhe for him. Finally, when the aftershocks subside, you slump against the pole, your knees nearly giving out. Sukuna pulls away from you finally and lovingly strokes your ass. “Good little slut,” he coos in his deep voice. “But we ain’t done yet so you’d better get it together.”

Instantly, your stomach grows fluttery with butterflies and your core grows warm. You know exactly what is coming next. You can’t stop. You can’t avoid it. And more frighteningly, you’re not even sure if you don’t want it.

Sukuna stands behind you and places one foot between yours to widen your legs out. His knife glides up your side to your neck to come across your throat. You freeze as soon as you feel the cold metal touch your tender, warm skin. Sukuna chuckles into your ear as his other hand plays with your wet pussy. “What a thrill, huh?” he hisses. “You ain’t been thrilled yet till you’ve gotten me.”

You concur. You can’t help but to do so when he finally slides that big, thick, long cock inside of you. Slick and open from your orgasm, he slides right in and makes his home between your velvety walls. He groans into your ear while your mouth falls agape on a silent moan.

You feel stretched. You feel full. You feel used. And you feel absolutely, positively amazing. Sukuna digs his nails into the fleshy part where your ass meets your hip, his fingers fondling your tummy. “Fuck!” he grunts into your ear, panting hotly. Even he can’t get a grip on himself. Your pussy feels too good wrapped around him, stroking him of all he’s worth.

He drops the knife, no longer needing it, and your body relaxes…until the blade is replaced with his hand. “Take it,” he demands. “Take that fuckin’ cock. You know you need it.” His other hand grips your stomach, kneading the plushy, soft flesh as he fucks into your wet heat. “So let me give it to you,” he huffs. “Lemme give you everything that slutty pussy needs.”

His hips hammer harder and faster into your ass, making it quiver and recoil. Your moans are loud and high-pitched, unable to be silenced due to Sukuna’s pistoning thrusts. He fucks you like a machine, pumping in and out, out and in, his cock pulsing inside of you. “F-Fuck!” you stammer. “Wait, Sukuna! You’re going t-too fast!”

Your pussy feels like it’s going into overload, being stuffed too much and too quickly. Tears spring into your eyes as Sukuna grips your throat tighter, cutting off your air for just a moment. “Quiet!” he snaps. “Sluts don’t talk. They only take dick. They take all that’s given to them and they’re thankful for it.”

Short moans and gasps leave your lips as he continues to squeeze, still fucking you dumb. Your knees buckle and your head feels fuzzy from the overstimulation and his hand gripping your throat. The pleasure somehow mounts to astronomical heights because of this, leaving you a dumb, mindless mess.

Sukuna presses his lips to your ear, his lip ring cool against the shell of your ear. “So tell me thank you. Say “thank you, Daddy, for givin’ me that dick. Thank you for fuckin’ me so good. Thank you for makin’ me your little cock whore”.” He loosens his hold on your neck, allowing you time to breathe. But you can’t breathe. You can’t even speak. Your mind is full of cock, unable to focus on anything but Sukuna’s big thighs against yours and his dick pummeling into you.

His hand grips your neck again, tighter this time, and you gag. “Say it!” he demands, roaring into your ear. “Say the fuckin’ words!” This time, he doesn’t release your neck, so you’re forced to get the words out with his fingers pressing into your throat. Fat, wet tears drip from your lashes, wetting your cheeks behind your mask.

“Thank you!” you sob out, finally broken. “Thank you, Daddy! Thank you for giving me your dick! T-Thank you for…for…!” You trail off, your words turning into a desperate moan as you feel the knot in your core tighten.

You’re about to cum. Your target, this gangster, a lowdown, dirty criminal, is going to make you burst all over his big, fat cock as if you’re his lover and he’s deserving of all of it. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you warn. “Please, please let me cum, Daddy! I can’t take it!”

You grip the cuffs for dear life as he fucks and fucks and fucks you. Your knuckles turn white, an indication of the pleasure you’re experiencing. Sukuna chuckles, enjoying your torture. “Aww, but the fun just started, baby,” he condescendingly coos. “You gonna cum already? Is this gangster cock just too good?” You whimper in response, your eyes fluttering closed.

Smack!

Sukuna slaps your ass hard, making it sting. “I don’t hear an answer,” he growls. His thrusts grow quick and brutal, turning your pussy into mush and making your clit sing. “Yes! Yes, it feels so fucking good!” you babble.

“Cum on it then,” he orders. “Give Daddy what he wants. Fucking cum for me now, V.” He continues this brutal, controlling pace with one hand gripping your throat and the other on your ass, drilling into your pussy and against your G-spot with all of the mercy of a sinner.

It doesn’t take long for that knot in your core to snap. “Oh, fuck!” you whine, damn near screaming for all to hear as you cum hard around Sukuna’s cock. Your orgasm hits you hard and intensely, sending you on a trip as you thrash in Sukuna’s hands and against the post.

Your pussy grips him tighter than a vice as you cream him, coating him from his cockhead to his balls in your juices. He grunts in pleasure by how tight you’ve grown, gripping and stroking him until he has no choice but to cum. Before he can, he pulls out of you and forces you down onto your knees. You’re so weak that you go tumbling down like a baby deer still weak on its hind legs.

“Look at me.” You stare up into Sukuna’s eyes, now facing the man behind the red mask. He has taken it off, revealing his handsome face and strange, tatted stripes on his cheeks. He furiously pumps his slick cock with one hand while he uses the other to rip off your mask. You’re too weak and spent to protest or fight him off.

His face grows red and glistens in sweat from the fury of his pumping, his arm tense as he jerks himself off in front of you. “Take me,” he demands. “Take my cum, my good little whore.” With a few more pumps, he finally bursts with a roar of pleasure, his head flying back as he shoots his spunk all over your face and tits.

You gasp as the warm liquid hits your face, dripping down your cheeks, lips, neck, and juicy tits, making your skin sobbing wet and sticky with him. Your breath comes out in short puffs of air as you recover from the vigorous fucking, completely spent. And ruined.

Sukuna deeply exhales, relaxed and satisfied. “Not bad, little girl,” he chuckles. “I haven’t cum that hard in a minute.” You watch as he picks up his knife and begins to redress himself like nothing happened, fastening his buttons and his belt. Like this was just a quickie and nothing more.

When he finishes, he smirks down at you as he fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Look at you, all messy,” he tuts. “Didn’t your boss teach ya to clean up after yourself?”

He kneels down and begins dabbing his cum off of your face, but not your tits. You already know you look crazy—mascara dripping, lipstick smudged, foundation fucked up. You eyeball Sukuna as he finishes cleaning you up. Even when he takes the key to the cuffs out of your clutch and releases you, you still glare at him like you’re trying to kill him with your eyes.

He tuts, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, now don’t look so glum. Here, I’ve got a present for you for your hard work.” He gives you a wink before walking over to the nightstand, leaving you to recover on the floor.

Slowly, you put your dress back on, hissing at the burn of your hands and wrists from the cuffs. You do your best to keep the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks at bay. You’re almost dressed when Sukuna comes back to you and presents you with the diamond, covering it with the cloth.

You’re stunned into silence for a while, even as he places the rock in front of you and then backs away. He watches you as you watch the diamond, half expecting it to blow up or something…but it doesn’t. Immediately, you feel enraged. “So you’re gonna give me that and what? Let me go?” You laugh, dry and loud. “Was the pussy that good that now you feel bad?”

Immediately, Sukuna’s hand is wrapped tight in your hair. He grips it and yanks you up, making you shout in pain. He brings you up an inch away from his irritated, crimson eyes. “Don’t get too cocky, bitch,” he hisses. “This ain’t about how hard you made me bust or how good you looked takin’ my cock. This is about teachin’ you a lesson.”

Your body tenses and grows cold. As if sensing this, Sukuna soothes your fears. “I’m not gonna kill you,” he explains. “Instead, I’m gonna give you that stupid rock you wanted and you can explain all to your boss about how you saved the day to get it…but only you’ll know what it took. Only you’ll know how you failed again.”

He leans in, smirking. “And that cuts deeper than any knife.” And it does. Already, you feel gutted than Toji made you feel. You’re bleeding out all over the floor, humiliated. Broken. Destroyed. You have failed again.

Sukuna’s smirk grows wider and he loosens his grip on your hair. “But I like you,” he chuckles. “And I don’t like a lot of people, so I’ll throw ya a sweetener: if we ever cross paths again and you get tired of bein’ a hero, you can come kick it with me. Be my little slut and my partner.”

He leans in, giving your neck a long lick, making you whine. “How’s that sound, doll?” he whispers, stroking your cheek. You don’t answer. If anything, you feel like spitting in his face. “I’ll let you sit on it, but my offer stands. Till we meet again, V.”

He gives you a wink and releases you before fastening his mask onto his face. You watch as he turns to leave, unable to take him from behind. You’re too weak and too defeated to do so. “Feel free to use the shower!” he calls, and then you hear the elevator ding.

So you do. Once he is gone and the hotel suite is now yours, you drag yourself to the luxurious bathroom, undress, and take a scalding shower to wash Sukuna’s cum, your ruined makeup, and tonight’s mistakes off of you. You use as much of the floral-scented body wash as you can, washing, scrubbing, and rinsing until your fingers and toes are pruned.

But even that isn’t enough. When you end your long, hot shower, you feel just as dirty as when you walked into it. You then steal one of the plush hotel robes left by the shower and drag yourself back into the hotel room, leaving the floor a mess with your discarded items. The only thing you pick up is your phone.

There, several calls from your boss wait for you. “Shit,” you mutter to yourself. Is it possible Sukuna sent him something anyway? Only one way to find out.

With your mind made up and your heart pounding, you press on your boss’ contact and wait for him to answer, each dial tone making your anxiety peak. Finally, he answers. “V, Thank God!” he exclaims. “I’ve been calling you for hours! Where the hell have you been?! The agents that I put on the Sukuna case told me you’re at the party and Sukuna’s file is gone. V, are you there right now?”

You don't answer for a moment, too busy staring at the diamond sitting next to your discarded mask. Both signs of your failure. Tears begin to rise to the surface again, but this time, only one falls. You can’t fool yourself anymore.

“V!” your boss shouts. “V, answer me! Where are you right now?”

“I’m sorry, boss,” you choke out, wiping your cheek. “I’m going to have to resign.”

TO BE CONTINUED.

[lockes-woods]

Kinktober '24 Day 11

Request: Would love to see some Fatgum x reader breeding kink shenanigans? Fatgum’s defensive abilities would make for a great quirk marriage scenario

Requested by: CherryDad (AO3)

WARNINGS: PIV, Oral (f! Receiving), cream pie, size difference, breeding kink

A/N: This is gonna be another morning edit for sure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sighed to yourself as you sat perched on the edge of your couch. You could feel your anxiety manifest in your gut, as you waited for your ‘husband’ to come home from patrol. It had been just over a year since the hero commission announced their new program of forming a new hero bond for the future from preexisting ‘relations’. In so many words the hero commission was revitalizing the archaic practice of quirk marriages. Last year every hero from the top 100 heroes was sent a list of approved ‘partners’ for them to choose from. You were one of the lucky ones in that fact that you actually knew, well had known, your top approved mate.

You have a fat-based quirk, you are able to manipulate and create on a cellular level of all living things. When healing you do not only rely on the energy, and body fat, of the person you are healing, but also tap into your own energy to aid others. Based on the nature of your quirk, your top match was Fatgum, or Taishiro Toyomitsu.

 You have known Taishiro since your time at UA. He was two years ahead of you, but because of the caloric nature of your quirks, you were on a strict high caloric intake. You often crossed paths when working on meal alternatives with the support lab. He had mentored you in a way, you weren’t sure if he even remembered the conversation, but he helped you feel less self-conscious about your body size. Because of the nature of your quirk, you were almost always sitting at a weight deemed ‘unhealthy’. The label of unhealthy, stuck with you so badly while you were still a teenager, that you stopped the overeating necessary to be able to use your quirk effectively. You began to work yourself to the literal bone, often passing out, just to maintain a ‘healthy’ image. When Taishiro caught wind of this, he pulled you aside and encouraged you to do everything in your power to aid the most amount of people, even if it meant being shamed by the media for encouraging an ‘unhealthy’ standards for young people. You don’t think even if he remembered the conversation he ever realized the impact that one talk had on you. Or how his kindness led to you having a not-so-small crush on him that carried onto adulthood.

You had lost touch with him after he set up his hero agency in Esuha City. While you were still on good terms and were friendly with each other you had drifted apart as people often do while growing up. You were never nailed down by any agency. You worked as an independent contractor that agencies could lease. Your nickname as the ‘One Women Hospital’ proceeded you: making you a fought-over strength to any agency. Your normal clientele were heroes in the top 10. You loved your life and independence, that was until the hero commission brought your normalcy to a halt with their sudden decision to bring back and enforce quirk marriages.

You would never feel as relieved as you were when Taishiro accepted your request of marriage. It was a huge relief off your chest of the fear of being randomly assigned to not only marry a stranger but also carry the minimum of one of their children. That’s what led you here to tonight, pacing in Tai’s home, waiting impatiently for him to get off of work. You had been married a little more than a month at this point but hadn’t consummated the marriage. Fuck, you hadn’t even kissed outside of your wedding. Coitus was only mandatory while you were ovulating like you were today.

You couldn’t help but feel uneasy. You both had been working your normal hours since the wedding, there was a silent agreement that you wouldn’t worry about the act itself until you had to. You had already pushed down your schoolgirl crush on Tai. He was one of the most genuine people you had met, and kind to a fault. Outside of his personality, he was so handsome to you in either of his forms. You hope if you were to have kids they’d inherit his lovely golden eyes and bright smile. Despite those nice images your nerves still stood strong. How would you even go about being intimate, but still remain on the same terms? That’s of course only if he wanted to have sex; technically he just had to cum inside of you. Would he want that?  Just as you felt yourself bordering on a spiral you heard him entering the house.

“Hey,” he greeted with his normal chipper smile. He was in his skinny form, which while smaller than his fat form of 8’2”, was still huge. He easily towered over you standing at a minimum of 7 ft.

“Hey,” you greeted back shyly. You were in your normal lounge clothing of an oversized t-shirt paired with a well-loved pair of cotton sleep shorts and fluffy socks. You had debated dressing up special for tonight, but you didn’t want to make this any weirder than the situation already was.

“How was work?” you asked,

“Good, it was a slower day, there was only one incident of bank robbing, so I mostly just worked on paperwork.” He answered smiling down at you, “How was your day off?”

“Good, I ate at my favorite café and read for a but before going to the doctor’s.” you answered.

“How was your appointment?” he asked.

“Good, they did a blood and urine test. I’m definitely ovulating today.” You responded.

“Alright,” Taishiro nodded, “When did you want to…” he started before trailing off, both of you walking on eggshells as you attempted to not offend or make the other uncomfortable.

“I guess sooner than later,” you answered, in a noncommittal tone, “I guess we should talk about how you want to go about this. Are you okay with sex, or do you just want to cum in me-”

You stood in shock as he pulled you in for a surprisingly soft kiss. You gasp, your eyes widening, before easing shut. It felt like your brain shut off as Tai pressed you firmly against the counter and he deepened the kiss. You let him dominate the kiss, a whine escaping you as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, panting lightly, “I couldn’t hold out any longer.” He confessed. Before he could explain any further you fisted the front of his jacket and pulled him in for an equally demanding kiss. He let out a surprised groan, melting into the kiss as he pulled you close, holding you in his arms.

“Fuck,” he groaned as you pulled back, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He admitted bashfully. You hummed in response.

“It has been a long month,” you agreed.

“No, baby, I’m talking years,” he elaborated, blush staining his cheeks.

“Oh,” you said dumb found, “I didn’t-, I always thought that-, that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“Baby, I’ve been holding a torch for you since we met. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured when I was your senpai.” He admitted, “And then after I graduated, my biggest regret was not telling you how I felt.” He took a breath before saying, “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same-”

“How could I not feel the same way.” You cut him off with a smile, “You were my senpai, you were one of the first people to make me feel of value despite the number on the scale.”

“Fuck, you have no idea how relieved I was when I found out my top match was you,” he confessed, looking down at you fondly.

 “I know we have to talk about this more, but the doctor gave us an hour window, and it’s starting soon.”

“Okay,” he nodded, there was nothing you or anyone else could do to wipe the smile off his face.

“Are you okay with us having sex?” you question.

“Baby, I’ll take whatever you give me,” he answered honestly.

“O-Okay,” you nodded your nerves returning, “Do you want to-, Or should we-, um is the bedroom okay?” you fought to get out.

“The bedroom sounds perfect love,” he replied, before scooping you up in his arms. You let out an “Eep,” as he walked up to his bedroom and softly laid you in the center of it.

“Do you have any hard stops?” he asked, tugging not only his sweatshirt over his head, but his shirt as well. You unconsciously bit your lip, taking in his toned form.

“Baby,” he said, pulling your attention back away from his body.

“Hmm?” You replied.

“I was asking if you had any hard stops,” he repeated, amused.

“Any body fluids outside of cum and spit,” You answered, “I also don’t feel comfortable with consensual non-consensual.”

“Okay,” he nodded, working at his belt.

“You?” you asked.

“The same,” he nodded, “My safe word is takoyaki. Yours?”

“Code,” you answered eyes locked in on his jeans sliding down revealing the large hard-on pressing against the front of his underwear, your eyes widened as he eased himself out of his boxer briefs. You knew objectively he was going to be big, but you didn’t realize how proportional he would be. You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together needily as he began to crawl up his bed towards you.

“Aw, are you feeling needy baby?” he asked teasingly. All you could do was let out a whine as he began helping you out of your shorts, “Can’t have my wife go unsatisfied.”

You could feel your heart rate go up at him casually call you, his wife. Normally you may find it a bit cringy, but his genuine tone made you feel butterflies. He helped you out of your shirt next, leaving you bare. He pulled you into a soft kiss, before slowly making his way down your body. He pulls a whine from your throat as he nips and sucks at your nipples. He takes his time, only making you more desperate.

“Fuck, Tai, please,” you plead with him

“Please, what love?” he asked, looking up at you with a smirk, making your stomach flip. You’d never seen his face without his sweet smile.

“Please, I need you,” you beg, “Need you so bad.”

“Oh, and where do you want me baby?” he asked, teasingly.

 “Lower, please” you beg, getting more and more desperate.

“Down here?” he asked, stroking your inner thigh.

“Fuck, yes.” You said tears of frustration gathering in the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t help but moan as he separated your lower lips. A whine escaped you from the contrast of the cool air in the room and Taishiro’s hot breath against your clit. He didn’t give you any warning before he dove in. You were left a moaning mess, as his fingers stretched you to your limit, while he sucked on your clit. You threaded your fingers through his surprisingly soft hair, tugging on it hard and harder the closer you got. You let out a guttural moan tugging hard on his hair so that he was flush with your pussy. He narrowly avoided getting crushed by your thighs as he angled his shoulders to keep your thighs open. He fingered you through your orgasm, whispering prairies against your skin. Your grip loosened as you fell back onto the bed limp as you came down from your height.

“Ready, love?” he asked, wiping the excess of your release off his face with the back of his hand.

“Please,” you answer, still feeling desperate, despite just coming down from your high.

“Okay,” he said, grasping his cock to give it two hard strokes before sliding it up and down your slit to collect your excess release, before thrusting his tip inside, Taishiro hissed at his first time breaching your walls, He slowly rocks you back and forth thrusting a bit more of himself each time as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a second before you whined craving more stimulation.

“Just, can’t get enough can you love?” he teased, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, knocking the wind out of you. You share a moan as he begins to pick up speed.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Can’t wait to see you if it takes. Fuck you’re gonna be all round and plush when it comes.” You both moaned shamelessly.

“Fuck, need it Tai, fuck, need it so bad,” you blathered seconds before clenching around him in a throat. “Wanna be full, please,” you pleaded desperately. “Want it, want it so bad, please fuck. I wanna have your kids.”  

“Fuck,” Taishiro groaned, His hips stuttering as he came in you. You both shared a moan, staying still for a moment before your little bubble of peace is ruined by the sound of a phone ringing. You ignore it for a moment before rolling over and seeing a slew of messages from different agencies. He pulled you tight back against his chest.

“You’re not leaving until we know it takes.” He said staring down at you; dead serious. You couldn’t help but gasp as she felt his cock once again stir against your back. He pulled you in for a loving kiss, as he eased your phone out of your hands. He quickly clicked on airplane mode, before tossing your phone aside. You let out a pleasant sigh, as your lips once again found each other and he pulled you back so you were straddling his abs once again; ready for the next round.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

A/N: K, officially broke the streak. Hoping to have this edited in the morning along with a TA! Shikamaru x Student! Reader one shot.

[arcaneauthor]

Can you do things hyunjin does as your bf🙏

Cute things Hyunjin does as your bf

Pairing: Hyunjin x reader

Tags: fluff, like that’s all there is

Warnings: none

Author’s note: sorry that my requests are being posted a little slower now but I’m currently trying to write multiple different requests, a multi chapter story, and complete a couple of art commissions so my creativity is stretched a little thin rn. But I’m gonna try to start getting them out faster in the future! Hope you enjoy!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

If you’re shorter then him then expect lots of head pats and hair ruffles

Which are usually accompanied by him calling you cute

Likes to hug you from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder or head

If you’re also an artist like him (which I am) he’ll set you up a second little art station in the room with his so you can do it together

Ik y’all are probably expecting me to put sometime about liking you to sit on his lap while he paints or something but if he’s anything like me I absolutely hate when people watch me work lol it makes me nervous

Buys you matching couples rings

He loves play with your hair. Like he’ll just constantly be running his hands though it.

As he’s stated before he’s not a big spender and really thinks before he buys so when he does buy you gifts you better believe they are super meaningful and thought out

Just makes you feel way funnier than you are. Like he literally laughs at everything you say

Pulls his phone out to snap candid pictures of you any time he thinks you look exceptionally beautiful. Got a whole album atp. Most of them are of you laughing or smiling at something. He’s absolutely obsessed with your genuine, natural smile.

Loves to just lay on top of you and wrap his long limbs around you like an octopus while nuzzling his head into your shoulder. Like if he comes in tired from a long day and sees you laid on the couch he’ll just flop himself over top of you without a word.

He’ll do it playfully too. Like if you’re trying to leave he’ll just lay his whole body weight on you so you can’t get up. “Nope. You can’t go” He of course lets you go if you really want him to get off, but I mean who would want him to get off of them👀

As an artist who has been known to make portraits, he analyzes the details of someone’s features more than most meaning when he compliments you it’s not always just “you’re pretty” or “you look beautiful” instead it’s: “The speckle of colors in your eyes are gorgeous.” “The way your hair glows in the sun makes you look like an angel” etc.

Like he literally just lifts you and your confidence up so much whether it’s from compliments about your appearance or praising you on certain skills or things you do well. Low self esteem does not exist when you’re around hyunjin

Without really meaning to, he makes you the focal point of his art more and more. Even when it’s not directly an image of you he’s creating an abstract piece that represents what you make him feel. Love. He just paints what comes to mind and more often then not that’s you these days

[ltwilliammowett]

Half time with our calendar and this is the perfect moment to introduce you to a lady who shows the interface of Age of Sail and Age of Steam. She is generally regarded as the start of the Age of Steam and yet she still has both elements. But who am I talking about ? - The HMS Warrior

More about her history here:

HMS WARRIOR was built as part of Britain’s response to concerns over France’s maritime ambitions which included the building of LA GLOIRE, a powerful ironclad which was the most advanced warship of its day.  WARRIOR was commissioned on 1 August 1861 and at that time unquestionably ruled the seas. Her main guns, engines and boilers were contained within an armoured wrought iron hull and she could be driven by both steam and sail. This combination meant that she could outrun and outgun any ship afloat and she never fired a shot in anger – the classic deterrent.

During the first commission her main role was to lead the Channel Squadron. On 22 November 1864 she paid off for her first major refit at Portsmouth Dockyard during which the ship was comprehensively refurbished. She was also completely re-armed with 7” and 8” muzzle loaded rifled guns. However, in the American Civil War the success of the Monitor was to have a dramatic effect on naval thinking and WARRIOR’s role as ‘Monarch of the Seas’ was to be very short-lived.

She re-commissioned in July 1867 and re-joined the Channel Fleet. The second commission was rather less interesting than the first as she was no longer regarded as the most powerful warship afloat and faded from the limelight. The second commission ended in 1871 and she then spent four years in refit at Portsmouth being fitted with improved boilers, steam power for the forward capstan and a new poop deck to accommodate an Admiral.  On completion in 1875 she became part of the First Reserve Fleet where she was to remain until paying at Portsmouth on 31 May 1883.

After periods as a depot ship and part of HMS VERNON she was paid off in 1924. She was then converted for use as a floating oil jetty and in 1929 was towed to Pembroke Dock where she was to remain for the next 50 years. In 1967 the campaign to restore WARRIOR started and prominent in this was Sir John Smith who formed the Manifold Trust. A committee chaired by the Duke of Edinburgh met in 1968 to discuss her future and from this emerged the Maritime Trust. When Pembroke Dock closed in 1978 the Manifold Trust agreed to underwrite the cost of restoration and the ship was handed over to the Maritime Trust in 1979.

In 1983 ownership was transferred to the Ship’s Preservation Trust which became the Warrior Preservation Trust in 1983. Although the hull was very sound the rest of the ship was in a poor state. The task which was part restoration and part re-building needed vast resources not only of money (£8M) but also of skill, patience and endurance. The 8 year restoration programme at Hartlepool transformed her into one of the world’s most important historic warships and in 1987 she returned to Portsmouth where she is now moored in the Historic Dockyard.

A planned preservation programme is in place for the ship and over the years she has been dry-docked twice, and the upper deck, (£725K provided by the Heritage Lottery Fund), all three fighting tops and half moons and the stern gallery have been replaced.

[sprout-fics]

Suicide mention tw

Yesterday was my survivor anniversary. This time last year I drove up into the mountains, took a long hike, and tried to kill myself. I didn't want to die so much as I couldn't stand living any longer. I had been so full of sadness and stress and dark emotions that I couldn't bear it for another day.

I had convinced myself I was a terrible, awful, rotten person to the core and that I didn't deserve to be here. I convinced myself over the course of months that I didn't deserve friends or loved ones, that the world would be a better place without me- that I'd be sparing the people I cared about by leaving them rather than have them deal with me.

The only thing that saved me was that in my haste to leave that day, I had grabbed the wrong medication I intended to OD with. So instead, I lay down for a bit, sat and stared into the woods, and thought about what it would mean to be happy.

Somehow, I'm still here.

It's been a rough year. I've struggled with my mental health, with finances, with employment and relationships, with family and with myself. It's taken so much effort to get to where I am, and even then I feel like some days it doesn't account for much. I'm still living with my parents, my finances are still in rough shape with my student debt, I've yet to get my first paycheck, and I've lost some very dear and cherished friendships in the past year.

But in the course of all of that, I've also done some pretty amazing stuff. I got my masters degree in Foreign Policy, I got a job offer that pays decently within my field, my position comes with training that will be invaluable to my career, I got surgery for my endometriosis which has resulted in a massive improvement of my chronic pain, and I managed to get a car with the help of family. I've paid off my credit debt in part thanks to commissions from some of my followers, and I've made new friends who I adore talking to. More than that I've learned a lot about myself in the past year.

I'm happier than I was before. I don't cry as much. I've worked to understand the reasons behind some of my behaviors and I have worked to address them in therapy so I can handle my emotions better. I listen better when people tell me things I need to hear, and I try to manage my self reflection with serenity instead of the spiral of self doubt. I've gotten a bit better at recognizing when I'm burnt out, and recognizing people I do and don't want in my life. I've learned to care about myself like I would care for a friend.

Yesterday I spent time laughing with friends, singing at the top of my lungs to my favorite songs in the car, and talking about all the things I want to write in the future- because I have a future. I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but at some point in the past year I looked up, and I realized I wasn't so sad anymore.

All of this to say- here's to another year, and a year after that, and many many more to come.

[see-arcane]

With a total of 1,176 votes tallied, the preferred plushie poll winner with 28.8% of votes is…

What a close one! Jonathan came in with 27.7%, the mysterious Mr. Morse with 24.9% and, delicious irony of ironies, London Dracula with 18.9%. Rest in pieces. Now, what does all this mean going forward?

First, just to reconfirm: I will absolutely be looking into the costs for having more than one plushie character produced at a time. For all that Mina has the top spot if it comes down to a solo run, Nobody Wants to Separate the Gothic Horror Soulmates, even as wee little plushies. It hurts my heart to think of. Mina and Jonathan deserve to sit side by side on everyone’s pillow. Just as Quinn Morse deserves to haunt the pillow next to theirs while casually throttling and carving London Dracula into pieces. For enrichment.

But beyond that, some other key things:

How is this getting done?

Sadly, I was not a cool enough kid for Makeship to greenlight a collaboration with me. Tragique. But while I was sitting around waiting for them to get back to me, I had time to browse around for other options. During that sniffing around I dug up a couple of promising manufacturers—one of which has some really neat options for not only plush toys, but all sorts of bric-a-brac like stationery, shirts, bags, cups, et cetera—and I plan to reach out to them for quotes to start with. Nothing really gets to move forward until I can nail down prices and the amount of X plushies to be made.

I am more than a little hesitant to tell anyone MAKE ME 1000+ PLUSHIES, PLEASE, THE TUMBLR POLL SAID THEY’RE GOOD FOR IT. These aren’t as simple as print/make-on-demand products, so I need to be careful estimating the amount of folks ready and willing to drop money on the little guys. But I will keep everyone updated on the numbers regardless!

Sooo is this a crowdfunding thing or an investment or what?

Don’t know yet. I am still between jobs at the moment—reminder to check out my Ko-Fi if you want to drop me a buck or commission some art!—but if this is something I can safely drop some of my own money in with the guarantee that it will let me do better than break even, I’ll do what I can out of pocket. However, if the cost of making something of good quality turns out too steep, I’ll start looking into stuff like Kickstarter and Backerkit and so on. I want to be sure I’m not gutting anybody’s wallet to pull this off and I want to be double-sure that what we’re paying for isn’t some flimsy throwaway junk. We are all here on the same Dracula book club starving artist site, so It Has to Be Worth It and not a money-sink for anyone.

Got it. Any other info to spare?

For the plushies specifically, this is when I’ll start:

Polishing up the current four designs into cleaner illustrations with different angles to provide for mockup samples with whoever I pick to manufacture with. If I get stuck on something—(which is likely)—I may throw up another poll to bug everyone about palettes and fashion choices. I have a few more designs I haven’t dropped yet for Epilogue Harkers, a non-Bloofer Lucy, and keychains that I’d love to share too!

Eyeballing materials. I’m already picturing a very close-cut cloth for the build and clothes, but I need to decide on filling too. Stiff overstuffing to hold a pose versus softer/lighter plush for floppy cuddleability. 

Poking at other character roughs, ala the Suitor Squad, the Weird Sisters, Van Helsing, Renfield, and Baby Quincey. And if all of those go well…

…maybe some designs for other favorites in the public domain playground. (Looks meaningfully at Clarimonde, Carmilla, Victor Frankenstein and the Creature, the King in Yellow, too many others.) ((But that’s all far-future stuff at the moment.))

Cool! But you also mentioned something about other merch?

I did.

Because goddamn do I want some Dracula-themed stationery. Journals! Memo pads! Pens! Every day we don’t have these things with the Harkers’ mark upon them is a victory for the forces of Count Dracula’s document-destroying evil. Likewise for shirts, totes, mugs, keychains, face masks and other things that could use some novel-flavored goodies. Hell, I’ll probably even get on with making stuff for The Vampyres to link on my website too. Because I am. Maybe behind on that. By several months.

Anyway.

I’ve got to start working on some designs for those too while the plushie process is progressing. Pray that my carpals don’t get tunneled.

Nice! Sounds like your plate is pretty full. So that’s it, right?

:)

Arcane?

:3c

Arcane. I need you to tell me this is all you’re working on.

>:}

Arcane.

Please stand by.

I have a little treat brewing for the Dracula Dailiers and @re-dracula folks in honor of a very special day for our good friend Jonathan Harker.

[pfatter-university]

When their second semester starts, Pfatter freshmen who've failed to show any growth get assigned to hook up to the Thickening Machine. These five skinny guys are about to catch up to their bigger classmates!

Their transformation videos will be posted on Pfatter University’s brand new Patreon page! Grady, the first victim, is already posted! Become a member to see extra photos from all future Tumblr posts, exclusive Patreon-only pics, live versions of your favorite Pfatter students, and the ever-popular transformation videos. Top tier patrons even get their own video commissions!

Can’t wait for you to enroll! 🐷

[charcubed]

wait I'm sorry I just got kicked in the face. There's gonna be more sherlock?

LMFAAAOOO

Okay so. Yes because real ones know that that's always been the case!!

Here's a list of some of the ancient lore quotes from Mofftiss about the 5 season arc:

"instant series commission, a guaranteed 2nd series, a cuddle, a guaranteed 3rd series, and a whispered invitation back to 'my place' (where I'll explain that really I've got a 5-series arc in mind, & a spin-off)" –Moffat, 2009 (one year before Sherlock)

"Having started off with Sherlock and John much younger men than they are usually presented, it would be rather lovely to keep going. I love the idea of them being in their 50's and still doing it." Mark Gatiss, 2013

“…we just got out of the rain and sat at the top of the [Sherlock] production bus… and we just started plotting out what we could do in the future. And we plotted out the whole of series four and five.” –Moffat, 2014

Moffat: "We've had the most sketchy discussions on what we'd do." Mark: "We have an idea for season five on a Post-it note. That's as far as we've got. Unless I'm lying?" –2016

Moffat: "Thank you for showing more patience than any other fandom in history." Mark: "Stay tuned!" 2020, celebrating the 10-year anniversary

Those are just the quotes I have on hand right now, of course, but I do enjoy trotting them out lmao.

And yeah, after s4, basically Moffat or Mark or Sue Vertue all pop up in press every now and then to essentially publicly say "yeah we'd love to make more Sherlock but it's so hard to get ahold of Benedict and Martin :/ someday!" and everyone on the internet goes "OH MY GOD SHERLOCK IS COMING BACK???" and those of us who have been here the entire time are like "yes. it's a matter of when, not if" looollll. (There was an article with quotes by Sue a few days ago so that's why everyone is discussing it again.)

Of course, quotes by the creators (who are also notorious liars) are arguably not what matters most. The biggest evidence that there will be more Sherlock is the fact that the show indicates a 5-season arc and always has. Lowest hanging fruit: "The Five Pips" of The Great Game, for example.

But! Required reading: I humbly direct you to this post by the brilliant @devoursjohnlock. It continues to be my favorite summary about what this show is doing, as a queer story that acts as a queer adaptation/interpretation of Arthur Conan Doyle's work to bring the subtext of the original stories to light as text – amongst other things. And it talks about how/why the story remains unresolved.

Aaaaand I also direct you to this post by @bisexualmindcabin explaining how/why there may be a 10 year gap before s5 – a.k.a. just like Arthur Conan Doyle brought Sherlock Holmes back 10 years after killing him, if Mofftiss wanted to recreate that, they'd possibly aim to bring the show back 10 years after "killing" it.

SO YEAH

TL;DR: THERE'S GONNA BE MORE SHERLOCK

eventually

[thr0wnawayy]

Chapter 429 has been my Dabi's Dance

I can't stop smiling.

I wanted to start off by saying thank you. Not to Hori, but to you all. Every last one of you in these tags for your contributions. Be it analysis, re-reads, fan works or simply your perspectives. I look forward to seeing what you will make in the future.

So, Thank you.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. MHA was always in the background of my life and I hated it. I don't watch anime and yet still MHA related media would make it's way onto my socials in all it's obnoxious forms. This went on for years.

And then suddenly, it stopped. It seemed like MHA's craze had died down, I'd still see it from time to time through merchandise but never to the consistency it had prior.

That was until Dabi's Dance was published and the net went wild.

I knew a few things about Endeavor from my past exposure, he was universally hated and abused his kids and wife (to the point she scalded her son in a fit of psychosis).

Deciding I had nothing better to do, I found myself searching to see what kind of consequences would befall such a monstrous character.

Would he fall like Icarus, be torn apart by the public, how would the family he ruined react to the news?.

And then, nothing. No punishment, no reaction. Just dead air.

I recall that my face dropped internally. My blank expression mirrored my phone screen's sterile nature, as it displayed the information in front of me.

He got away with it. So I did some digging and it got so much worse.

Bakugo's evasion of any consequences or damages, coddled and shielded by Hori's inability to go through on anything.

Hawks who murdered a near crippled man on a hypothesis, for the mere crime of having the "wrong" quirk, for not giving up, for being "unlucky"

Aizawa, Hori's little mouthpiece. who decides to play judge, jury and executioner with the futures of students he's supposed to be teaching. Only for the Nedzu and the narrative to allow him, his friends turned into lapdogs that agree to the letter.

The Commission who strive to keep theirrotting husk of a system alive through assasins, child soldiers and indoctrination.

Even if it's gears must be lubricated with blood, even if it means lying to the world and having them clean up the mess. They MUST stay on top, the illusion must be upheld.

I just couldn't fathom how this was seen as a good thing.

And somewhere along the way I began to feel something akin to hate. Not your typical ire, one powered by anger, no.

I wanted to see how low Hori would go, just how horrifically he would mangle a series that everyone had once praised.

I wanted to witness what wonders a jaded community would create, to show what they were capable of (to create and understand MHA in a manner Hori wishes he could even emulate a fraction of)

I wished to see your own expressions of love and hatred.

The thought of witnessing the breaking point, the dust settling to expose all the glaring flaws and infested wounds of MHA. It buzzed in my brain like electricity.

The idea that when all was said and done, you, the people would do what Hori couldn't/wouldn't and forge the bones and salvagble bits of MHA into a story worth remembering.

One where abusers are punished for their crimes instead of rewarded

Where victims can have a voice, feel and grow, carve their own paths and move forward from their trauma.

Where the implications of MHA's rotting and disingenuous society get explored instead of swept under the rug

Where people get a chance.

I waited eagerly for the day it would all fall apart.

So, do you know what I did when I logged onto the tag and saw your posts!?.

I laughed, the shrill giggle in the back of my throat quickly surging into an almost manic cackle. It was like lightning, vindicating and sobering all at once. My face was stretched to it's absolute limits with how wide my grin was. I could almost hear the shattering of MHA's last bit of integrity and I loved it.

The realization MHA's greatest threat was the author himself, It's one that I grasped long ago (as far back as the Dark Dekiru Arc) and I'm sure most of you understood this as well.

But to see that more of you are starting to get it, to realize there's no going back. That as the curtains draw near and the lights begin to dim, there is no other side here. Violence begets violence and Hori's gone past the event horizon.

It feels, hopeful. Perhaps we can build something worth saving.

It's been a wild ride so far and it's still ongoing. Hori's time is long over, it has been for a while now, so I suppose what I'm asking Is:

Now It's Your Turn, what's your play?

_______________________________________

Update:

IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Last updated: 22 Oct 2024 IMPORTANT NOTE: Although I do not own the characters or specific events from The Walking Dead, this blog contains transformative fan fiction protected under the Fair Use Act and I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION for it to be copied and pasted, posted on other platforms or accounts, shared through videos or audio or screenshots, etc without the express written permission of myself. Sharing can be done with the ‘reblog’ button or sharing a direct link to my original work ONLY. Please ask permission to use any of my work as “inspiration” for your own fictional creations. I retain the right to refuse any requests and retain all rights to the work here under copyright 2024.

Requests are OPEN! Send them to my Ask box! Not all requests will be fulfilled.

Commissions are OPEN! DM me for details to commission a fic. Price list here.

You can also support me by buying me a coffee (or the dogs some kibble!)

Series:

*denotes ongoing series (newest on top)

Bad Medicine Imprisoned in Alexandria, Negan's mental health is suffering. After pissing off Gabriel, Y/N volunteers to take him on as a project, working toward some vague goal of rehabilitation. Can both Y/N and Negan come to terms with his past? And what does the future look like for the former Savior? Era: Alexandria, post-Negan Reader pronouns: largely unspecified Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 (The Conclusion)

One shots:

(newest on top)

The Storm (Daryl Dixon x Reader but Negan-centric) Words: 7,737 Reader pronouns: she/her Imprisoned in Alexandria still, it seems Negan has a soft spot for Y/N, one of Alexandria’s doctors. With Daryl gone moving the The Kingdom to Hilltop, everyone back home tries to weather the storm. But help comes from an unexpected place when Y/N doesn’t return from venturing out into the blizzard. Era: Post-Negan Alexandria

Drabbles: (these links may not return every single relevant drabble, but pretty close!)

All Negan Drabbles (newest first) Negan Fluff Protective!Negan

[mariacallous]

In 2025, we will see a fundamental transformation in the language of climate politics. We’re going to hear a lot less about “reducing emissions” from scientists and policymakers and a lot more about “phasing out fossil fuels” or “ending coal, oil, and methane gas.” This is a good thing. Although it is scientifically accurate, the phrase “reducing emissions” is too easily used for greenwashing by the fossil-energy industry and its advocates. The expression “ending coal, oil, and methane gas,” on the other hand, keeps the focus on the action that will do most to resolve the climate crisis.

This discourse shift has been initiated by the latest report of the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. The world’s climate scientists say that already existing fossil-energy infrastructure is projected to emit the total carbon budget for halting global heating at 2 degrees Celsius over preindustrial temperatures. This statement means two things. It means that the world cannot develop any more coal, oil, or gas, if we want our planet to remain relatively livable. And it means that even some already developed fossil-fuel deposits will need to be retired before the end of their lifetime, since we need to leave space in the carbon budget for essential activities like agriculture.

The international community has already integrated this new science into its global climate governance. The 28th Conference of the Parties—the annual conference of the world’s nations party to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change—called for every country to contribute to “transitioning away from fossil fuels.” Never before in the history of international climate negotiations had the main cause of global heating been clearly named and specifically targeted. The United Nations itself now calls for the phaseout of coal, oil, and methane gas.

This new climate language will become mainstream in 2025. In her policy plans for her second term aspPresident of the European Commission, Ursula von der Leyen pledged not to work to lower EU emissions, but to “continue to bring down energy prices by moving further away from fossil fuels.” The new UK government promised in its manifesto that it will withhold licenses for new coal and for oil exploration—and states outright that it will “ban fracking for good.” And in France, Macron has explicitly vowed to end fossil-fuel use entirely.

Climate politics in the US will also evolve in the wake of Donald Trump’s reelection for president. Republicans will continue to embrace a “drill, baby, drill” climate agenda, denying the danger or sometimes even the reality of climate change while advocating for expanding domestic crude and methane-gas production. They may try to greenwash their policies by claiming they embrace an “all of the above” energy strategy, but this messaging will have limited effects. Due to political polarization the association of Trump with coal, oil, and gas will raise Democratic support for phasing out fossil fuels. Before the 2024 election, 59 percent of Democrats said climate change should be the Federal government’s top priority, but only 48 percent said they supported a phaseout. In 2025 majorities of Democrats will begin to support fossil-fuel phaseout, especially if climate advocates revive science-based climate messaging, continue to emphasize that clean-energy deployment is job creation, and frame choosing to phase out fossil fuels as a form of freedom that upholds our right to a livable future.

Given that Democrats won many down-ballot races, and cities and states are still pledging to pass climate policies, this shift in the Democratic majority will keep the US on the map in international climate negotiations, whether or not Trump withdraws the US from the Paris Agreement, creating new local alliances with the UK, the EU, and global south nations calling for international fossil-fuel phaseout targets. This bloc can counter the power of petrostates in international climate negotiations. At the very least, the mainstreaming of the language of fossil-fuel phaseout will help undermine the greenwashing strategy of current oil and gas company PR, which falsely advertises industry as pursuing technologies at scale to help “reduce emissions” even as they continue their upstream investments.

Of course the petrostates, along with India and China, will push back against the rhetoric of fossil fuel phaseout. But India can be helped to turn away from its domestic coal stores by clean-energy financing at close to cost along with the international aid and technology transfers already pledged at previous climate conferences. And although its rhetoric may not align with that of the West, China should not be imagined as opposed to climate action. China has enacted the most comprehensive climate policy on the planet, in service of its goal to peak emissions by 2030 and achieve net zero emissions by 2060. If their climate messaging remains focused on “emissions,” in light of their plan to keep using fossil fuels past 2030, they are preparing for next decade’s pivot away from fossil fuels by building out clean energy at a truly extraordinary rate.

In 2025 climate discourse will recenter on the message that halting global heating requires the phaseout of coal, oil, and gas. This new consensus will shift the politics of climate change and help motivate an urgent sprint to a clean-energy, ecologically integrated economy—the only economy that ensures a livable future.

[nepsah]

Progress: 900/4262.06

hi. hello. i have to have an extra super fun dental surgery on may 20th. : ) it's gonna cost me a lovely $3k. it's not going to kill us but it is going to make things uncomfortable for the next however long it takes me to pay it off because uh. afterwards i'll also have to get a crown done. :') i don't know how much that's going to be yet but that'll be happening in july.

[edit] i had complications that have drawn this whole process out... now i'm not entirely sure what the final bill for the primary surgery is, yay! :') i do still have to get a crown on top off all of this mess, but that won't be happening until october it sounds like...

anyway to help make it suck less i will be doing pwyw commissions for the foreseeable future. this'll be pinned until i'm done with'em, once it's not pinned anymore that'll be the end of it.

payment can be done via paypal or ko-fi.

take a look at @nepartsu for examples of my art (i also use that as a tag whenever i post art here)

(i draw a lot of fantrolls but i can do other stuff!!)

drop me a message if ur interested in gettin a doodle <3

you can take a peek at my ko-fi here!

[edit: 7/24/24] my computer is back, yay! i can resume these commissions. <3 this pwyw offer will still be going on for a while.

[edit: 10/28/24] oh the gift that keeps on givin... It's time for the actual tooth part and that's added another $722.90 anticipated bc y'know. Insurance can be a bitch. So this is still a thing.

more tidbits under the cut bc i have been asked some questions:

if i were doing normal commissions, i charge about 65-70 for a full color, full body piece. you do not have to stick to that price under the pwyw, but i've been asked for pricing suggestions so i figured i'd put that out there as a general guideline! (if you have seen an older comm info post where it was $100, i've decided to lower that cost, so ignore that.)

i do not charge extra for nsfw commissions.

you can commission multiple pieces at once, or later, it's fine!

i can and will create original designs for you under this pwyw promo.

if you have any other questions, pls don't hesitate to reach out! i'm happy to discuss basically anything, haha.

[isabellamagic]

Diana and 47 things I commissioned part 3, aka my favorite batch

Let's kick it off with the thing that actually started this entire "isa throws money into the fire for hitman commissions" journey

Airport chibis

I wanted a custom fourana figure so I made the drawing above for the clay artist to follow (I had more refs but this was the main part)

For the figure, I love the hair shading, it's super cool, the way the artist matched my chair design 1:1 was pretty neat, and the tiny bag next to Diana was so carefully made, it's impressive

One thing to note is that I wasn't given any updates during the figure making progress, so I'm a little bummed about it. The expression didn't 100% match my idea, and the way they sit wasn't really natural lol. I had to do some adjustments after I received the figures (paint smears, cracks, leaning issues), so I wish they had allowed me to give feedback during the process

This was the first thing I commissioned, while it took a while to be finished (sep 2023-july 2024), I do like how they turned out, quirks and all

Bonus agent burnwood and miss 47, and also my nails I guess

Tiny posable dolls

Once again, my drawing was used as a reference. These cost so much for such a tiny size that I would probably never do it again lmao ($150!!!!!!)

I do have nendoroid dolls in mind for the future though, but they will require more time since I have to source many parts like faceplates, hair sculpts, outfits, shoes ect

Despite the insane price, these are indeed very cute, and I'm glad my design was just slapped onto their faces, they look like my drawings have come to life and that's super cool

Last but not least,

Papercut drawing based on @/inuitaiyo's fanart:

+ desk setup, I finally found clothes for the plushies

I saw SUN's fanart years ago and it's been lingering in my mind ever since, so when I found an artist that can do papercut drawings, my mind immediately went to that artwork. It's my favorite 47 diana fanart, it's so subtle and amazing, and SUN's gorgeous style was the cherry on top. I'm glad that the artist I worked with managed to capture what I love about the original artwork

I had total control over the entire process of this comm, so I added a neat little detail: If you look under Diana's hair, you can kinda see her eyes looking down at 47's lips ehehehe. I made sure that was gonna happen no matter what lol. I'm so happy it worked so well

That's all for now. Next time should hopefully be me finally getting custom fourana nendoroid dolls + a 1/6 scale mendoza diana doll. We'll see, money is a limited resource after all

One more link to SUN's art to end this because I think it deserves so much more love