#faceless voices; anon

[virtualunrealitycircus]

So Tabby? How come you’re always hanging out with that fish?

"She's not just 'that fish' thank you very much. Her name is Nixie and she is a siren...and a very pretty one at that...and she's my-..." A small glance around, he's checking to make sure Jax isn't nearby.

"...she's my girlfriend, and I love her."

[juliesback]

"Pretty standard way, really. Frank heard somethin' in the woods and we followed along after he ran off. And.. well, you know the rest."

[hanasnx]

Okay, but like, are we actually gonna be blessed with an Indy voice reveal? *insert begging spare change meme*

i’m not sure yet but it has been something i’ve considered for a while now. so there’s a chance

[inmensapotentia]

✘ To Shuuhei, is there something about Rima you dislike?

"She trusts too easy. It makes her easier to manipulate, easier to hurt." He saw it happen with Kira and Momo, saw the way they both nearly broke when their Captains defected. Shuuhei doesn't know he trusts her ability to stay safe with how open her heart is.

[orangetintedglasses]

Anonymous said: well what is your scent space boy

"I dunno, 'got a shower last night'? I don't think I smell like anything the majority of the time--"

[majestyeverlasting]

can you write something angst like joel miller and reader having bad argument and joel lost his cool and feels bad and trying to fix it, something like that

your fics are amazing btw❤️❤️

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

pairing joel miller x female reader summary after a tough patrol, joel grapples to accept the one thing he craves but fears the most—love [angst, happy ending, 2k] a/n you're more amazing, anon ♡

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Today’s patrol doesn’t follow Joel home. It fastens itself to his shoulders, forcing him to carry it. Each labored step is a reminder of the long hours spent postured on horseback, rifle slung over his shoulder. If he was twenty years younger, he reckons his body wouldn’t protest against him as often as it does. Unfortunately, there’s no way to chase those years back down. They belong to the past alone, loaned only through memories. 

How he feels at the end of a patrol is a wildcard these days, but he fares better on the mornings he remembers to stretch and when he's man enough to take adequate breaks throughout the shift. 

On days like this, when Joel was paired with fresher, younger guys like Caleb, so many of those wellness practices were disregarded. Being as sharp as possible ensured there were no slower moments that could be taken for weakness. All it took was one second of a lowered guard to be blindsighted. 

Even if Joel wanted to summon a fraction of his youth, he wouldn’t be able to after today. Shouting orders had reduced his voice to a graveled rumble. 

A little past five-o-clock, he and Caleb spotted a group of infected lingering near a fallen body in the distance—a nameless, faceless man sheeted from the most recent snowfall. There was no more breath in his lungs, but it appeared as if he were merely lying there asleep. His puffy blue coat was a pop of color amidst stark white and rogue twigs. 

Caleb insisted on burning the body so the poor man wouldn’t resurrect as the undead. But Joel had witnessed his fair share of courtesies gone wrong. If he didn’t do anything else today, he refused to add the boy to the list of casualties in his consciousness. So he demanded they leave it be. All that mattered was two of them making it back to the commune alive. The man was a stranger after all. And there was no such thing as helping the dead. Not really. 

Even as the Clickers picked up on the trodding of their horses’ hooves, Caleb’s gaze stayed on Joel like he was the monster.

“So we’re just gonna leave him?” Caleb asked. 

Joel dismounted his horse and wrestled his rifle into position. In a quick series of echoing shots, he took down all six infected, their bodies thudding to the snow. A couple ravens fluttered from the treetops, jet black against the pale sky.

“One match, man. It’ll only take a second.” 

“No!” Joel asserted. “We gotta get out of here. Probably just attracted more.” 

So they left him there, face down in the snow. 

By the time Joel crawls up the creaky steps of his front porch, he’s ready to collapse onto the couch, his bed, or any surface willing to catch him. But he won’t sleep because of his buzzing nerves. By some miracle, he sees himself inside, shrugging his backpack to the ground with a weighted thump. 

As drained as he is, the soft shuffling in the kitchen sets him right back on alert. He knew Ellie was at Dina’s tonight, and there was nobody else he’d been expecting over. If he weren’t so on guard, he’d notice the savory scent of garlic and onion in the air. 

The heavy sound of his boots precedes him as he strides into the kitchen. Upon seeing your frame standing at the stove, clad in an oversized knit sweater, Joel freezes in place. The furrow between his brows disappears as if it were never there. You peek over your shoulder with the sweetest smile, and for a moment, he forgets the ache in his muscles. The weariness that feels bone-deep. 

Slowly, however, the crueler side of reality creeps back in despite his efforts to cling to the good. At the very same time, you realize it hadn’t been just another day of patrol for him. There’s a slouch to his shoulders, and slightly bloodshot eyes take inventory of everything around the room while refusing to meet yours. Sympathy is quick to take root. 

You’ve made dinner. He gathers that much, noting a pot bubbling on the stove behind you. His stomach rumbles lowly at the prospect of food. 

“Hi,” you say with a dampened smile. You try again when he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Joel?” 

There’s nowhere to hide since you’re here. He’d anticipated coming back to an empty house where he didn’t have to be perceived. To be seen so intimately. 

A mix of frustration, embarrassment, and unworthiness rise within him to the point where he’s certain he’ll burst. The last person he wants to suffer from the fallout is you. Yet here you are, a selfless presentation that makes him wish he didn’t destroy every ounce of good he touched. 

His attention is intense when it falls on you. An underlying softness tries to prove itself true, only to be engulfed every time it takes a chance. 

“Never asked for all this.” Dinner, Joel means. 

“I know,” you say. “Just figured you’d appreciate it.” There’s a slight waver in your voice as your confidence wanes. 

More of an edge works its way into his. “Didn’t tell me beforehand.”

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as it grows in real-time. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

There’s a matter-of-factness to your tone that makes it sound like you’re reading off a script. Like you’ll break through the ice if you misstep. It’s nothing like your usual friendly, laid-back cadence. You’re trying to convince yourself you’re not a stranger. 

“You gave me a key, so I thought I’d use it to do something nice for you.” 

“I gave it to you for emergencies. If something ever goes wrong.” 

A small huff of humorless laughter escapes you. “Why does everything always have to go wrong with you?” 

His sharp, stubbled jaw clenches at the question. 

“Would you rather me be here because I got robbed or because I think I’m being followed?” Your words are soft and steady and all the more piercing for it. “Do we only get to be in each other’s lives when something’s falling apart?” 

Joel takes a step forward. “You’re puttin’ words in my mouth.” 

“Am I Joel?” 

“You are.” 

Your hands fall helplessly by your sides. “Let me be here for you. I want to be here for you.” 

His voice raises before he can check himself, “What about what I want?” 

It’s a question with an answer Joel’s not ready to face. Because it’s you. There was nothing else. He exhales as his gaze flicks to the floor. 

Tears prick in your eyes despite your attempt to to steel yourself against them. “Do you want me to leave?”

Joel’s never heard your voice sound so small. It tears him apart, but all he can say is, “I’m going to take a shower.” 

•••

Fear is a cold, consuming thing. People fear the boogeyman, monsters under their bed—all manner of creatures that lurk when the sun is tucked away. Since the end of the world, few things scared Joel. Tonight, it isn’t the notion of what lurks that scares him. It’s the possibility that when he goes downstairs, you’ll be gone. 

It’s quiet as Joel stands behind his bedroom door retying the drawstring of his pajama pants for the umpteeth time. His thick fingers tremble as much as they had when he was out in the cold. The longer he stalls, the sicker he feels. 

Tommy’s teasing words from a week ago play on a loop in his head. You wouldn’t recognize a good thing if it slapped you ‘cross the face. 

But Joel had recognized you. 

Long before he had a name to put to your unforgettable smile. Before you mosied into his world and made him long to fall into your orbit. Before he ever admitted to himself that this might be love—messy as it is, constantly changing shape and slipping between his fingers. 

Courage eventually finds him by some miracle.

As Joel pads down the stairs, he tries to ignore the lingering silence. All he has are his creaky footsteps as he enters an empty kitchen dotted with signs of life. The table is set, two bowls on either end with the food organized in the middle. But you’re nowhere to be found. Regret sinks like a millstone into his gut, and takes his heart with it. His appetite vanishes along with any hope enduring within him. 

Before he can continue sinking, the back door flings open and you scramble in along with a chill. There’s a saucer in your grip that appears to have food scrapped off of it. No doubt for Juneau, the neighbor’s husky who often wandered by for scraps. 

Joel’s heart doesn’t know whether to quicken in surprise of slow with relief. There’s no question what yours does as you startle and grip your chest. Like you’re not the visitor in his home. As if he’s the intruder. 

“You scared me,” you breathe, eyes softening as you take him in. 

The way he’s standing suggests he’s trying to make himself look smaller. An air of apology hangs around him. There’s so much he wants to say: I don’t deserve this, I’m sorry, I love you.

Only a few gruff words come out, “Gonna catch a cold going outside like that.” 

“Guess it’ll be you cooking for me then.” Your lips twitch with a ghost-like hint of a smile. It’s an invitation into levity that lets him know he hadn’t severed any major branches. 

A stretch of silence passes before Joel says, “Had no right speaking to you the way I did.” 

Then he sighs into a deeper admission, “I’m not used to this.” He swallows thickly as he awaits a response.

“I know,” you finally say.

“But I wanna be. I want this—” 

You cross the distance to wrap your arms around him. He doesn’t move for a fraction of a second. He’s steady as an oak. As certain as the tide. When he does wrap his arms around you, it feels like another chance. A new beginning. Like a home both of you could get to know.  

•••

The two of you share a quiet meal of sourdough and steak and potato stew, sharing soft glances between bites. Joel goes for seconds, then thirds. Seconds because he was modest with his portions the first go round, and thirds because he can’t remember the last time someone labored over such good food for him. It nourishes him past the bone and to the soul, the warm broth soothing his throat as it runs down. Not once do you ask him to talk about his day, and he’s grateful.

Later, Joel helps you clean even though you insist that he sits down and relaxes. Conversation remains light as the two of you stand shoulder to shoulder at the sink, you washing and him drying. It’s a process much like forgiveness: the staining of oneself only to be made clean as if the offense never occurred. Which isn’t lost on Joel. The fog surrounding his conscious lifts as if his own slate is being renewed.

As the two of you finish and dry your hands, Joel peers over at you with a weighted look. You offer a small, tired smile that makes his chest expand with fondness. 

“Reckon I don’t deserve your kindness.” He clears his throat. “Ya keep giving it to me anyway.” 

“I always will,” you promise. 

Joel nods through the wave of gratitude that nearly sweeps him away. 

“I really am trying, honey.” He can’t remember the last time that nickname rolled off his tongue. Tonight, with you, it flows naturally. 

“I know.” 

Anything worth having can’t be gained without a fight. One against the voices of the past that seek to bind everything to the unmoving, unchanging familiarity of the way things have been for so long. Luckily, Joel Miller wasn’t one to back down. He would tear down every wall he built around himself, brick by brick, if it meant reaching you. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

JOEL MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[reidology13]

Hi i love ur writing , ur a really a good author!! If ur taking requests, and u feel inspired, would u mind writing more aaron x babysitter? I just read the two u wrote and they got me in a chokehold.

Maybe more pre-relationship shenanigans? I was eating up the lack of boundaries they had for people who are not dating. Maybe more of that? I'm trying to think of a prompt im sorry if this is too vague.

Maybe he starts calling her pet names (i would explode if aaron called me pet names ) or she calls to check on him at work or something that r clearly coupley things?

If not, that's fine. Love ur work!!

'til there was you

cw: age gap, hotch calls reader 'sweetheart', insecurities, pining? lots and lots of fluff wc: 1.6k a/n: tysm anon you're so kind, knowing that you enjoy my writing made my week <3 I kinda mixed your two prompts together, except hotch calls from work instead of reader so I hope it's still what you wanted!

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The sound of the phone ringing on the bench echoed throughout the kitchen, and you finished plating Jack’s dinner in record speed before you picked it up, squeezing it between your ear and shoulder. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face at the sound of Aaron’s voice greeting you on the other end of the line.

“Hey, Aaron.” You did your best to keep your tone in check, trying to keep the very visible smile from showing audibly, not wanting him to profile your voice.

“How are you doing?” His voice was low, and you could just make out the chatter in the background that you’d learnt to associate with police stations over the past three years. You noticed the rough sound of exhaustion in his cadence, and damn if it wasn’t attractive, even if it made you worry an unfair amount about his well being.

“Good, Jack’s good, we went out today and he ran himself ragged, so I’m making him an early dinner. He’ll be out the moment his head hits the pillow, trust me.” You glanced over at the boy, sitting at the coffee table with a small puzzle that he’d been working on for a half hour, you’d let him finish it after dinner.

“You know I always trust you. I just called to tell you I’ll be home early tonight, I should get there in an hour or two.” That got your attention, he almost never left work before the sun set below the DC skyline, or, well, you weren’t sure what the horizon looked like in Quantico.

“Oh, okay, I’ll see you then?” You carried the plates over to the dining table, pausing the conversation for a moment to tell Jack to wash his hands, then to undo that hygienic work by handing him the phone. He spoke to Aaron for a minute or two, his four-year-old attention span incapable of paying attention to a faceless conversation when there were chicken nuggets on the plate in front of him. You took the phone back, finishing the extended conversation with a few short words.

“See you soon, Sweetheart.” The sound of the call ending reverberated through your ears, a feedback loop of high-pitched ringing combined with the faint sound of his voice, and you couldn’t help but be glad he wasn’t there to witness how easily you fell apart from one simple word. Throughout dinner Jack managed to pull you out of your thoughts, mostly due to pure persistence on his part, asking question after question until you had no choice but to engage to his satisfaction. It worked, that is until you had helped him through his night time routine and put him safely to bed. He went to sleep just as easily as you had expected, and you’d checked your watch to discover it was almost seven, and Aaron would be arriving at any moment, if he had been right about when he would be there.

Sweetheart.

He’d said it so casually, like it was how he referred to you on a regular basis, like it wasn’t the first time you had ever heard that name from his lips. It made it far worse, in a way, knowing that in your presence he had never used it for someone else. Of course, he probably had, but to your ears that name was reserved specifically for you. That was the kind of thing he did, small, meaningless gestures that made you wonder, question, two things you absolutely should not have risked doing.

So you were lost in thought, again, Jack’s momentary distraction rendered useless in the face of a silent house, waiting for Aaron to arrive, too preoccupied to consider distracting yourself with menial chores. Luckily, or unluckily, he arrived shortly after you’d put Jack to bed, you’d likely had less than an hour before he walked through the door. He called out your name quietly, careful not to wake Jack, and seemed in a fairly good mood for after a case.

“Hi.” You mumbled, dodging his gaze as he sat down beside you on the couch, and you swore you could feel the exact moment his gaze sharpened, undoubtedly noticing your avoidant behaviour.

“What’s wrong?” He brushed his hand against your shoulder, silently asking for your attention, as if he didn’t have all of it before he even walked through the front door. You looked up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, just knowing that he could see your face was nerve-wracking enough. The profiler in him was undoubtedly reading every one of your expressions, and he likely knew your emotions before you did.

“Nothing, I promise.” He scoffed at your words, and you felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment at your words, naive enough to convince yourself he wouldn’t know the moment the lie left your lips.

“You can’t lie to me, tell me what it is.” When denial failed, diversion was probably right below as the backup in whatever profiler’s dictionary the must have helped write, although that did nothing to stop you from jumping right to it.

“You never get home this early.” He tensed, and his hand stilled against your shoulder—-where, you realised, he had been casually rubbing your skin through your shirt for the past few moments—before relaxing back into his usual demeanour, raising a judging eyebrow, as if to tell you he knew exactly what you were trying.

“We wrapped it up, I didn’t need to stay in the office.” He almost never needed to, but he always did, and he hadn’t run to Jack when he came through the door, instead he seemed to be latching to you, “Now tell me what’s bothering you, Sweetheart.”

Oh, so he really wanted you dead, there was no other explanation for his behaviour, he must have known how you felt, and he was using it to kill you. It was unfair, what you said next was basically against your will, he had forced it out of you with his gentle touches and cruel words.

“You’ve never called me ‘Sweetheart,’ before.” Possibly the worst thing you had ever said to him, which was certainly saying something, since you always managed to lose half of your brain cells simply by breathing the same air as him.

“And that has you all worried because…” The amused lilt in his tone made your stomach curl in on itself, a mix of embarrassment and something you didn’t want to name settling heavily within you. That knowing spark in his eye that never failed to make you squirm, although you could never be entirely sure why.

In some unbidden stroke of genius, you managed to find a reasonable excuse that didn’t sound like the most carefully bullshitted sentence in history, “People say things like that when they’re about to let someone down. I was worried I was fired or something.”

His eyes softened, and you almost felt bad for bringing about the guilt in his eyes, although remembering that your lie was single-handedly carrying your dignity helped with the shame a fair bit. He ran his hand over yours where it rested on your thigh, while the other continued rubbing gently over the clothed skin of your shoulder. You assumed this was his attempt at soothing you, unfortunately all he was succeeding at was increasing your heart rate and making it hard to breathe.

“Oh, Sweetheart, of course not. You’re part of the family, I could never let you go.” He smiled at you, and despite the fact that you were seated, you swore you went weak at the knees, your breath hitching at how close he was, how easy it would be to lean forward.

“Then why?” Your voice was slightly too breathless, and the way he didn’t even seem to notice made it all just that much harder to hold yourself back. But at the same time it acted as a reminder of exactly why you couldn’t ever have him. He had no idea, and no matter how alluring that obliviousness was, if he ever did find out you would, in fact, lose the job he was promising you would have for as long as you wanted. You knew that realistically he wouldn’t be able to continue hiring you once Jack was fourteen or fifteen, and decidedly too old to have a babysitter. You also knew that once you had finished your education, you would find a job that would help you pay for an actual apartment, and maybe, one day, a house and family. But it was the thought that counted, and if you told him how you felt, you would lose it—lose him—forever.

“I don’t know. You’re one of the few people I’m close to, I want to separate you from everyone else.” There he was, making you wonder, once again, always switching up and finding ways to surprise you, just when you thought you’d figured him out.

You weren’t sure you had the words to respond to him, or if your voice would even comply if you tried to speak, so you simply nodded and turned away from him, just so that you were no longer looking in his eyes. What you didn’t do, however, was move away from his warm hands, so nice on your skin, even through the fabric of your shirt.

When it came to Aaron, you couldn’t seem to help but question, his hands so rough, with a soft touch that contrasted so beautifully. A name just for you, that told you he saw you as someone separate, different from everyone else, filling your heart with what could only be false hope. 

But if false hope was all you would get, you would take it every time, especially if it came with the added bonus of ‘Sweetheart,’ murmured so gently, the way you suspected it always would.

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tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast @selmasdaydreams - Comment to be added <3

[temis-de-leon]

Demon Brothers realizing their feelings for reader

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 2 , Part 3 , Dateables version

Requested by Romance Anon

A/N: just like in the dateables version, this feels like an extra to the other parts, so definitely check them out. Hope you enjoy this! Even if they're a little ooc...

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Mammon

Saying that Mammon gets no respect in his own house is a given. He’s a joke amongst his brothers, a fool who only seeks metallic sheen; guilty until proven innocent.

Bluffing and throwing empty threats around is his way of maintaining at least some of his remaining dignity, even if no one buys it.

So when you, a weak dumb human, are put under his responsibility, his priority is making clear who’s in charge.

He shows his fangs and talks harshly, wasting no time in letting you know how unimportant you are to him and how many things he could and will do to you if you disobey his orders or ignore his requests.

Of course he’ll rummage through your room and see if he can sell something of yours, but soon his visits become too frequent and soon he lacks his treasure-hunting mindset.

Mammon doesn’t know what to think about the disappointment he feels when he opens the door and you’re not there, when he hears your voice in the living room talking to someone else or when you’re partnered with some faceless demon in class projects.

He keeps the insults to try and compensate for the weakness that falling in love with you carries. You have to see it, how could you not? And even if you don’t, his brothers’ little jests would give you enough hints.

It’s maddening, having you so close and so out of reach at the same time; but maybe, surely, that is his fault.

.

Leviathan

It’s so unfair.

Why does he have to be the Avatar of Envy when he is clearly the least everything among his brothers?

Well, perhaps he’s better than Mammon at some things, but still.

He knows he isn’t as imposing as Lucifer or as pretty as Asmo and he doesn’t even want to compare himself to Beel; he still remembers them all criticizing his hermit habits and his consequential soft tummy.

Staying inside his room is, undeniably, the best way to protect himself from his sin. It’s a sanctuary made for him, Henry and all of his prized possessions; he doesn’t need anything else.

And then he meets you.

You don’t force him out of his room, which makes it easier for him to come out on his own, and you don’t mock his interests either. You are empathetic, eager to explore, fun to be around… All in all, being close to you makes him feel lighthearted.

Levi cherishes you so much it doesn’t take him too long to want you as close to him as possible.

Where are you? With who? Why? Were you having a good time? Better than the moments you’ve shared with him? Do you miss him? He has something to show you, so hurry up!

He notices the change in his heart the moment you make him blush for the first time, heartbeat so fast it makes his chest tremble.

It is somewhat hopeless; he knows you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way. Why would you?

No, he’d rather not go through that pain; he’s happy being just your friend.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

.

Satan

You fascinate him.

Not like a book or a painting would, much less a cat, but like a mystery. He doesn’t understand you and that angers and fascinates him in equal amounts; it makes him want to investigate you further than he would with any other person.

He observes, taking you in as neutrally as possible, and marvels at the way you prove wrong everything he thinks he knows about humans and what he assumes about you based on that knowledge.

When he lashed his tail and bared his teeth, back then, in the darkness of his room when he still thought so lowly of you, you stood up to him and didn’t move an inch. Clearly afraid, but not backing up, facing him with determination.

You’d later tell him it was adrenaline, which picks his interest further.

His privacy is his own and he still enjoys spending time alone in his room or out in the city doing his own thing, but the desire to keep your company for himself every hour of the day grows stronger by the second.

Smiling at the mere sight of you, hearing the pounding of his heart in his ears and impatiently waiting for his phone to light up and show your name on the screen are just some of the many new changes your presence in his life has brought.

The more he feels, the more he sees himself in his novels. Whether the narrative is in his favour or not, he doesn’t know, but he’s enjoying every bit of it.

.

Asmodeus

Being called beautiful is for him as usual and natural as breathing air and drinking water, but that doesn’t mean it goes under the radar. While he lives in abundant loving words and adoring phrases, there’s never enough to satisfy him and he works hard to keep the flattery coming his way.

His body is a temple he vows to maintain and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to carry that promise.

A sleep schedule that helps his hair grow, clears his skin and makes his mind feel lighter and happier; makeup and clothes carefully selected to enhance his attractiveness; and nails perfectly filed and painted multi-coloured to express his versatility. 

Of course, not all of him is based on looks. You can’t feed a fan club just solely on a picture!

He has a Deviltube channel where he engages with his beloved followers, parties to interact with them as well and other, more intimate, reunions that bring them all impossibly closer.

He thinks, rightfully so, that no one could ever come close to what he has achieved over time.

Then again, you always manage to surprise him.

While not as beautiful as him, there’s something about you that makes it impossible for him to stop admiring you and drinking in your entire presence.

It’s not just your face or your body, or the clothes you wear or how you do your makeup if you even decide to put it on. It’s your heart and your soul and the way you make him feel more loved than anyone could’ve ever done before.

There’s not a single ounce of jealousy in his eyes whenever he looks at you. You’re not competition, but part of him.

Finally, someone to share the spotlight with.

.

Beelzebub

A common misconception people tend to believe about him is his lack of emotional capacity, although he can understand his mostly speechless and stern demeanour and his food-driven actions don’t help at all.

His mind is usually focused on one thing and one thing only and that is filling his everlasting empty stomach. How can he concentrate on anything else when its growls are easily compared to Cerberus’s roars? When he salivates until he drools or when the aching need to consume something makes his vision turn red.

While it’s sometimes difficult for him to think straight or “read the room”, as Levi says, he’s well aware of what he feels at every moment of the day. Hunger is the usual answer, but there’s also love and protection for his family and, lately, for you as well.

It’s a different type of love, one he doesn’t feel often, but he recognizes it nonetheless and accepts it as quietly as he would with any other emotion, although his reddened cheeks and darkened glance speak volumes.

He loves you and wants you deeply, there’s no doubt about that, but he won’t act on it on impulse. As delicious as he thinks you’d be, you’re not some sort of candy ready to be chewed on in mere seconds.

Beel is impatient when it comes to his needs, yes, but he’s willing to wait for you.

Sometimes, the best meals are the ones being left to rest.

.

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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[erysser]

Can i request thanos x reader where the reader sacrifice herself for thanos in the bathroom scene

A GUT FEELING

-> pairings : Choi Su Bong [Thanos] x reader

-> a/n : Thank you so much for requesting!! This is my first time writing and I hope you enjoy anon <3

The third vote had just ended with a tie. Your eyes stare at the scoreboard, unsure of what it would display tomorrow when the voting was redone. Truly, you wanted to vote for X, you had a life out there, but with Thanos' pleading eyes as he promised you one more game... how could you say no?

Besides you, Thanos and Nam-gyu were whispering amongst themselves about something together, their eyes glaring at Min-su who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the X team. Pity engulfs you as you see the boy's nervous expression. You didn't blame him for voting X.

The guards call out to the players like clock-work, instructing people who wanted to go to the bathroom to go now. You lean back on your bed, back against the wall, the feeling of wanting to relieve yourself not making itself present yet.

Thanos climbs up into your bed beside you, a wild grin on his face as he talks, "Hey senorita, me and Nam-gyu are going to the toilet to have a small chat with Min-su."

You furrow your eyebrows at him, shaking your head lightly at his plan.

"I don't think that's a good idea," you start, your voice soft and persuasive, "a fight could break out and..."

Thanos laughs at your hanging sentence, "Don't worry about me, flower! I'm Thanos, I can deal with whatever they throw at me! You probably have to worry about Nam-gyu over there though."

His voice was dripping with boisterous confidence as he reassured you, Nam-gyu rolling his eyes at his statement before hurrying the purple-haired man up.

Your chest constricted, something felt wrong about this and as Thanos moved away from you, your hand caught hold of his wrist. He stops his movement, his gaze meeting your eyes. His eyes were full of unfiltered confidence, like there was no fear behind them. He never seem to have fear in him. After and during every single game, he smiled and joked like his life was not on the line.

"Be careful," you whisper softly to him, turning to Nam-gyu and repeating the same words as you pulled your hand off.

Nam-gyu scoffs as he hears the words, but gives an irritated nod as he moves to walk away towards the door. Thanos looks at you and winks, giving you a thumbs up and a flying kiss as he and Nam-gyu excitedly walk off to the bathroom area.

☆

You weren't sure how long it had been. 5— No— 10 minutes, maybe since Thanos and Nam-gyu had left for the bathroom. A sinking feeling was slowly taking over you as your mind lingered on it longer; why were they taking so long?

With a huff, you stood up from your bed, moving towards the door where the guards were, announcing to them that you needed to relieve yourself. Thankfully, as the allocated time wasn't up, they let you through.

Your footsteps echo throughout the long winding hallway until they finally stood in front of the two doors leading to the male and female toilet. Your heart beat quickens, hearing the shouting and arguing from within the male bathroom. Eyes widening, you quickly realise what was happening inside.

You look at the guards who stood outside. They stood as still as a statue, their heads looking in-front, as no emotion or feeling exuded from their faceless bodies as they stood guard.

"Aren't you going to do anything?!" You shout at them, your face scrunching up as confusion and frustration laces your voice.

You knew they wanted you dead. You knew they didn't care about the people who died, but you thought they would at least have the decency to let the players die in the games and not in a dingy bathroom!

You groan as no response came out of the triangle-masked guards. You didn't care. You stomped towards the door as they make no moves to stop you.

You heaved slightly as you move to push the door open, chest tightening as you see the scene unfold in front of you.

Men stood, fighting with each other. Some of them were on the floor, rolling around in who knows who's blood. Disgust fills you as today's dinner threatens to come up. What the hell was happening here? Your eyes scan the room, searching for the man with the bright purple hair in the middle of this brawl.

It didn't take you long to spot him. He sat on top of player 333, hand around his neck as he moves to choke him. You stood frozen, staring as you watch. Your eyes drink the image up. He didn't notice you, his whole focus on eliminating player 333. He didn't notice player 333's right arm moving and raising to stab him with the fork they had give you all for dinner.

Before your mind could even process what was happening, you move towards them, pulling Thanos off with a clean tug as player 333 swung his fork into air, barely missing Thanos' neck.

Thanos looks at you, wide-eyed and confused but before you could even answer his unasked questions, player 333 lunges for him again. You push Thanos away, trying your best to restrain him as you topple onto the floor with him, hitting your back onto to the cold tile floor. You gripped onto player 333's hand, trying to disarm him but his grip was tighter. His arm was stronger. He was stronger.

In the last few seconds, you catch Thanos's panicked gaze. Funny, that was the first time you had ever seen him panic. You give him a soft smile as you feel a sharp pain through your neck. Your neck heats up as you let go of player 333's hand, subconsciously trying to stop the blood from leaving your body.

Thanos tries to pull him off but it was no use as you continue to bleed out. Player 333's falls back, shocking painting his facw as his eyes stare at your face as you heaved, trying to breathe.

"Nonononono, c'mon y/n, you can't do this to me," Thanos says, immediately going to hold your head. He lifts you up slightly, holding you close to him as he takes his jacket off, trying to stop the bleeding. He wraps the green fabric across your neck, desperately trying to block the blood.

You could barely muster a goodbye, your vision fading slowly as it all turned into a haze, you could make out his purple tufts of hair as he stared at you.

"C'mon, that was real stupid of you y/n! You're Thanos' star, my star you can't die on me! You promised me one more game! I- I promised to take you out after we get out of this shithole." His voice was rapid, fast and breathless. Cracking and breaking slightly but stable enough to understand. No wonder he was a rapper. The thought amused you as you move to touch his face but your arms felt limp. You couldn't even move to touch him.

It wasn't long before you're heart stopped beating. The heart that once rapidly beat in Thanos' presence stopped at the moment he was closest to it.

Thanos could feel your soul leave your body. His mind reeled as he watches your eyes glaze over, your mouth slightly ajar as a satisfied look shrouded your face.

You were dead.

He couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true. His mind replayed your last moments as his hands that held your lifeless body shook. You were alive right? This was all some sort of sick nightmare, but as you laid unresponsive to his words. He was forced to deal with the truth.

He puts you down neatly on the tile floor, hands shaking as he opened the locket where he stored his drugs. Slowly, he popped one in, eyes roaming across the room until they see the man who had taken your life. He stood up, knuckles whitening as he rushes in front to put that man in his place.

It should've been him. It should've been Thanos. It should've been anyone but you.

He was a second away from pummeling the man's head in when the guards finally entered, tearing Thanos away from him.

They were all escorted into the main room, bloodied and battered. Thanos' mind kept replaying the scene, the drug seeming to have no effect in keeping those thoughts at bay. Beside him, Nam-gyu walks quietly, unsure of what to say.

Anger enveloped Thanos' mind as they announced the eliminated players, your number being called out last. His eyes look over to the X side, immediately catching player 333's gaze.

He had taken his money and had now stolen the person Thanos cared about the most.

Whatever the next game was, Thanos was going to make sure that player 333 gets eliminated.

[virtualunrealitycircus]

whatcha thinkin' about, Tabby?

"Ah-!...oh-" Oh, one of these things. These weird faceless nosey npcs.

"Why do you need to know?"

[multi-fandom-imagine]

hellooooo love you work!! may i request another installment of the “fave places” series with antinous? 👀 (in no way condone his actions in hold them down but his vocals and visuals make him FINE ASFFFFF)

-💜⚡️ (Electra anon)

A/n: Of course

Au! Where Antinous is married to the reader and was never a Suitor.

1. The Temple Ruins at Dusk

The gods had abandoned this place centuries ago. Ivy crept across crumbling stone, statues worn down to faceless shapes, their stories long forgotten. But to Antinous, this ruin wasn’t dead—it was sacred. Because this was where he first claimed you as his. Where he knelt between your legs on cracked marble and swore vows not even Olympus could break.

You’re there again tonight, dusk bleeding across the sky in deep purples and fading golds. He lays out a blanket, but you both know you won’t stay on it. You sit on a smooth slab of stone, legs draped over his lap, and he kisses you like time doesn’t exist—slow, reverent, hands stroking your thighs like you’re a miracle he doesn’t deserve.

“I don’t care if the gods see,” he murmurs, voice low, brushing his mouth over your jaw. “Let them watch. Let them envy.”

He lays you back, dress hiked up to your hips, and slides down your body with that dark hunger in his eyes. His tongue finds you easily, licking slowly, purposefully, while his fingers keep you wide open. He doesn’t rush. He wants to make you cry out, to echo through the empty temple and leave a new legend in your wake. When he finally thrusts into you—hard, deep, perfect—you dig your nails into his back and swear you see stars behind your eyes. His name on your lips becomes the prayer that breathes life back into the ruin.

2. The Royal Baths (When No One’s Watching)

You’d already soaked for a while, the scent of jasmine in the air and flower petals floating lazily around your shoulders. You didn’t hear him enter—but you felt him. The way the air shifted. The way your skin prickled with anticipation.

Antinous undressed slowly, watching you the whole time. Like a man who had already claimed the world but only ever wanted one thing. You.

He steps into the water, curls an arm around your waist, and pulls you flush against his chest. His voice rumbles in your ear, low and hot. “I dreamed about this last night. Woke up hard. Thought about you with your legs open and your lips saying my name.”

His fingers drift under the water, teasing between your thighs. He presses two fingers in, slow and firm, his thumb circling your clit while his other hand holds your neck. He brings you to the edge and stops—again and again—until your pleas echo off the tile walls.

Then, finally, he presses you against the smooth edge of the bath and enters you from behind, water splashing around your hips. He fucks you slow and possessive, murmuring things in Ancient Greek you barely understand—except for your name. That one he says like a vow.

When you both come, the water goes still. But you stay wrapped in each other, and he kisses your shoulder like he’s trying to burn the moment into time itself.

3. The Throne Room—After Hours

It was late. The moonlight filtered through high glass windows, silvering the marble floor. The guards were dismissed. The council gone. And there you were—sitting in his throne, draped in one of his silk robes and nothing else, legs crossed, chin raised like the queen you were.

Antinous stops in the doorway, heart thudding like war drums.

“You trying to kill me?” he says, voice ragged. You only smile and open your legs.

He crosses the room in seconds. His hands are rough as they push the robe open, exposing your bare skin to the cold air and his heated stare. “You want to rule?” he growls, yanking you up and bending you over the armrest. “Then I’ll show you what power feels like.”

He slides into you with one brutal thrust, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. The throne creaks beneath you with every thrust. He fucks you like he’s staking his claim again—like the throne means nothing if you’re not beneath him, moaning, trembling, undone.

When you come, it’s loud. Filthy. Beautiful. And he follows, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he spills inside you, breathless. Afterward, he sits with you in his lap, robe tangled around you both.

“You’re the only crown I care about,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

4. On the Beach Beneath a Storm

The sky is split open. Thunder cracks like war drums in the distance, lightning flashing across the horizon. The sea is restless—frothing, crashing—like it can sense what’s about to happen.

You were supposed to be walking the shoreline barefoot, hand in hand with Antinous, enjoying the calm before the storm. But he’s never been good at resisting you. Not when your dress clings wet to your thighs. Not when your hair sticks to your neck and your eyes dare him.

You’re pinned against a jagged rock before you can say a word. Rain pours down in sheets, soaking you to the skin as he yanks your dress up and tears your underthings aside. His hands are freezing. His mouth is fire. He kisses you like he’s claiming land—messy, hungry, desperate.

When he thrusts into you, you cry out, and it’s lost to the wind. His fingers dig into your hips, the rhythm brutal, primal. “You think the sea can take you?” he growls against your throat. “I am the storm, wife. And you are mine.”

You come hard, legs shaking, the sky flashing white as you unravel around him. He finishes with a guttural moan, forehead to yours, both of you panting like beasts beneath the wrath of the gods.

5. In the Gardens, Hidden in the Blossoms

The royal gardens are supposed to be peaceful—a place for meditation, for prayer, for diplomacy. But not when Antinous finds you barefoot in the lavender, humming softly, skin kissed by the sun.

He’s behind you in an instant, his body pressed tight to your back, one hand sliding up to cup your breast. “You think I won’t take you here?” he whispers against your ear, teeth grazing. “Where anyone could see you coming for me?”

He lays you down in a bed of wildflowers, fingers parting your thighs like he’s unwrapping something divine. His mouth finds your cunt, and he feasts—slow and deliberate, your taste coating his tongue as you writhe beneath him.

When he finally gives in to the ache in his cock, he enters you in one deep, possessive thrust. The flowers are crushed beneath you. Bees buzz lazily nearby. And Antinous fucks you like the garden itself was made to hold your screams.

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t care. He kisses you with dirt on his knees and flower petals tangled in your hair.

6. On the Ship Deck Under the Stars

Nights at sea are quiet—except when you sneak up to the deck, dressed in nothing but one of his loose linen tunics. The air is thick with salt and secrecy, and Antinous is already waiting for you by the mast.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says with a smirk, walking toward you like a man possessed.

You barely have time to respond before he’s lifting you, your back pressed to the mast, legs wrapping around his waist. He thrusts into you with a groan, one arm locked around your lower back, the other braced against the wood. The stars above are bright and infinite—but his eyes are darker, wilder.

You move together in perfect silence, hips rolling, breath catching. Only the creak of the ship and your stifled moans break the stillness. He whispers your name like a vow, each thrust carving it into the night.

When you both come, it’s like a wave crashing—violent, beautiful, and endless.

7. In His War Tent the Night Before Battle

The camp is tense. Soldiers whisper. Blades are sharpened. And Antinous is pacing like a caged lion—until you enter the tent, wearing nothing but his tunic, your bare legs glowing in the candlelight.

He stops cold.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, but his eyes devour you.

You cross to him slowly, slipping the tunic off your shoulders, baring yourself completely. “You might die tomorrow. I’m not letting you go into battle without this.”

He doesn’t speak again. He just kisses you—desperate, bruising—and lays you down across the map table. Scrolls scatter. Strategy forgotten. His armor is still half-on as he ruts into you with wild, frenzied thrusts.

He grips your throat lightly, not to hurt—but to feel your pulse. To know you’re real.

When he comes, it’s with your name on his lips, not the gods’. Not glory. Just you.

And when he wakes before dawn, sword at his side, your scent still clings to his skin like armor.

8. In the Underworld, When He Thought He Lost You

(Alt-scene / high angst + filth combo)

You died. Or so he thought. For three days, Antinous tore apart half the realm trying to find a way to cross into the Underworld. When he finally does, and he sees you—alive, radiant, just out of reach—he falls to his knees.

“Come back with me,” he begs, voice raw. “Or I’ll burn the world to stay here.”

When you fall into his arms, he takes you to the cold stone floor of Hades’ domain, needing to feel your skin, your breath, your life.

He fucks you like a man resurrected—rough, messy, weeping against your throat. His tears mix with the sweat between your bodies, and every thrust is a vow never to let go again. “You’re mine. No gods. No death. No fate can take you.”

And this time, when he walks back into the light, he does it with you.

[juliesback]

" Try that shit again, asshole. "

[midnight-fables]

Therapy Files 1: Dead Enough to be Alive (Carmy)

Screenshot Credit: @neverscreens

Summary: Carmy is headed to his first therapy appointment and his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) tries to soothe him while he freaks out about it. (873 Words)

Warnings: Swearing, mention of vomit, passive suicidal thoughts, impending mental breakdown (no breakdown in this one), fem reader/generic lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns.

Notes: Thank you for reading and sharing! Sideblog for social stuff: @m-z-shoroi. If you want to filter out the therapy posts, the tag is #cb therapy files.

Day 1

I almost threw up the day of therapy.

It's funny how al-anon meetings didn't fuck me up this bad. Being a no-face in a room full of faceless sufferers somehow made it easier to summon and examine the pain of Mikey dying, of cooking consuming every aspect of my being until all that was left was this chewed lump of mangled muscle and bone fighting for some form of continued existence. I could rip it from my chest, hold it in my hand, turn it in the light. Look at all the faces, the thin spots, the gouges, the dents. Half the people there weren’t listening to me at all, were lost in the turmoil of their own pain and suffering, of the loved ones that were too far away to reach or so unreachable that they were gone. I didn’t mind it.

Half the time, I just needed to hear what I had to say, anyway. Something about the words coming out of my mouth, as stuttered, incomplete, inadequate as they were; something about hearing my own voice say them to me, of my voice hitting my ears—that was the important part. I’ve been through hell and back, I understand clearer than anyone else that I’m the most powerful climber I know. I don’t need someone to grab my hand and pull me out of this mess; I just need someone to know that I’m here. I need someone to witness my existence, my pain, my misery. I just need someone to come looking for me if I go quiet for too long. Just a face over the edge of the cliff. They don’t need to say nothing. They just need to exist.

I’m just dead enough to be alive at all, and in a room full of ghosts, that’s an easier thing to reconcile than trying to explain that to a fucking therapist (who’ll probably put me on some sort of watch list after probing me with a thousand questions about whether or not I want to die, how I plan to do it, how much of my plan I’ve enacted). I shouldn’t be pissed. It’s their job. Fuck only knows how many times they’ve had their 3:00 not show up only to find out the next day that their 3:00 would never show up for anything again. But how else do I explain these brambles of mortality, this barbed wire anchored in my skin. I can’t escape death.

He owes me a brother.

He owes me some fucking answers.

 Darling's hand landed on my thigh. "Baby, you're going to crack your knees on the dashboard if you don't stop bouncing your leg like that."

And I'm fucking terrified of therapy.

"Why are you terrified, sweetheart?"

Shit, I said that aloud, didn't I? "I just... I don't know." I raked my hair back. "I don't know."

"It's a little too late to cancel the appointment now—"

"I know, I know, I know." I pressed the heels of my hands into my cheekbones. I know. I’m not saying I’m not going to go; I’m saying I’m terrified. Those are different things.

She squeezed my knee. "Breathe, pretty boy."

I heaved a breath.

"You're gonna be okay, baby.”

"What if I'm not?"

It took her a bit to answer. "Then we'll do what we can to make it okay."

She can’t make promises, but right about now I need some of those. Promise me I’ll be okay? Promise me it’s not as bad as it seems?

The car turned, then stopped. Her cold fingers curled around my wrist.

"Hey. Look at me, Bear?"

I dropped my hands, but I couldn't make myself look over. Don't know why; it probably would've calmed me down to see her pretty face, but my eyes stayed glued to the hood of the car parked in front of us, the icicles hanging in front of the grill. Teeth. Fuck, I was clenching my jaw again. Heat surged in my chest, crawled up into my neck, only this time, the panic didn’t come with it—my eyes just stung. I only felt a breakdown coming.

She interlocked her hand with mine, brought the back of it to her warm lips. Pressed a kiss to it, just to the side, behind my thumb. She returned it with a plum-pink lipstick print on it. Jagged, sharp, blurred edges, but distinctly hers.

"Do you think that'll help?" She whispered, carding through my curls, tucking them behind my ear.

I’m trying not to have a meltdown, baby girl, I’m useless.

She pulled my shirt collar down and planted another one on my sternum, just below where the neckline would be. It bloomed a wave of coolness in my chest. A comfortable cold. This wasn’t ice against my chest; ice is sharp, jagged, a frozen lightning bolt. The kiss was milder, softer. Diffuse.

She replaced my shirt, pecked my mouth. “How about that one?”

How about you give me another one after this fucking appointment, hm?

Tags: @jess248, @catharticconsolation, @persymons, @morgthemagpie, @glitch0o0, @nox-is-thename @forgechildofheph @leminjelly

[inmensapotentia]

Shuuhei! What is your opinion on cheesy shark movies?

He had an understanding of each of those words, but together was...odd. The imagery that it brought together in his mind was somewhat perplexing. Shuuhei frowned slightly, trying to parse it out himself before finally asking, "Is that a form of...cooking show?" Renji and Rukia had both babbled about those a few times. Besides, what else could cheesy shark mean?

[orangetintedglasses]

Howwww is your Vash so sweet? (இ﹏இ`｡) He's like cotton candy soft and sweet, and he's giving me cavities! I have to brush my teeth every time you post!

(｀Д´) Mod!!!! I am sending you my dentist's bill!

( 'I have to brush my teeth every time you post' hjsgdjhgds omg that's the cutest thing ever

SORRY HE'S SO SUGARY SWEET my boy is soft and as much as I allude to some Less Sweet aspects to him, I can't fight his nature )

[izanacore]

tokyo Revengers ran haitani - reader is also a bonten exec but they both hate each other until one saves the other and then they hit it off - fluff angst smut anything you’d prefer

“salvatore” | ran haitani x reader

mini-collection 𓂃⋆.˚

ticket #002

synopsis: forced to take the place of the yakuza couple she killed. y/n, a bonten executive, is stuck playing the perfect wife—with ran haitani, of all people. they can barely stand each other, yet as the lines blur between duty, they realize the real problem isn’t keeping up the illusion—it’s that it might not be an illusion at all.

characters: ran haitani, fem!reader, haruchiyo sanzu, manjiro “mikey” sano, hajime kokonoi

warnings: explicit content, enemies to lovers, smut (18+) with plot, mild angst, violence, blood, gunfights, assassination, fake marriage, sexual tension, near-death experience, strong language, yakuza politics

notes: bonten timeline! anon, i’m sorry if i went overboard with this one. i just love the concept, ok?? or maybe it’s just ran haitani? idk! <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

part 1

ran and y/n were on a mission. but if you saw them right now, you’d think otherwise—pressed against the wall in a dark alley, lips locked in a heated kiss, bodies grinding together. ran’s hands roamed her body, his lips trailing down her neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

y/n grunted, shoving him back.

“tsk. do you think i want this?” ran whispered, irritation lacing his voice.

“will you fucking slow down?” she snapped. “i don’t want your filthy marks on me.”

ran just smirked, biting his lip. “why not? makes it more convincing, don’t you think?”

y/n rolled her eyes. ran haitani. the person she despised most in bonten. and yet, here she was, stuck playing his lover.

of all the people mikey could’ve paired her with—kakucho, rindou, literally anyone else—hell, she would even take sanzu, but he just had to stick her with him.

“you two need to work this out. your personal hatred for each other is ruining bonten,” mikey said, tone sharp and final.

y/n scoffed, pushing back her chair as she shot to her feet. “there is no way in hell i’m doing this with him—”

mikey’s sharp gaze cut her off instantly. with a clenched jaw, she sank back into her seat.

“you can count on us, boss. right, y/n?” ran drawled from beside her, casually draping an arm over her shoulder.

she shoved it off without hesitation, standing up once more—this time to leave.

sanzu’s amused chuckle echoed in the room. “women…”

ran didn’t hesitate before following her out. “y/n!”

“just leave me alone, ran.” she didn’t stop, heading straight for her room. sharing a penthouse with the bonten executives was already suffocating—having to deal with him on top of it was unbearable.

but before she could slam the door shut, ran caught it, pushing his way inside.

y/n turned to him, her expression cold. “if this is just a joke to you, then don’t drag me into it.” her voice was quieter now, but there was no mistaking the weight behind it. “i already messed up the last mission. i don’t need mikey thinking i’m useless too.”

being the only woman in bonten meant y/n had to fight twice as hard to prove herself. she had no choice—this was the only life she had left.

bonten had saved her father once, covering up his crimes when he was drowning in debt. but y/n never knew what he was involved in, not until he died as one of bonten’s men. at first, she blamed them, convinced they had taken him from her. in her rage, she almost killed sanzu that night.

but mikey saw something in her. the way she handled a gun, the way she fought. her father had trained her to survive, and mikey decided her talent can’t go to waste. now, she was loyal to him.

but none of that mattered after what she did.

it was supposed to be a simple job—steal the key hidden in the necklace of a woman. that key led to a vault full of gold that once belonged to bonten. what y/n didn’t know was that the people she killed that night weren’t just some faceless targets. they were the yakuza couple—ghosts of the underworld. their identities were so well-guarded that not even their own members had ever laid eyes on them. no one had ever seen their faces, heard their real voices. all people knew was their power.

when rumors spread that the couple had been murdered, their guards locked down the mansion, believing their leaders were still alive. the only proof of identity? the key—and the woman wearing it.

y/n.

she had no choice but to step into the wife’s role. play the part, convince everyone. and to make it worse? she had to do it with ran haitani.

mikey had assigned him to the mission. retrieve the gold. maintain the illusion. avoid an all-out war between bonten and the yakuza faction that still swore loyalty to their “alive” leaders.

their world was a stage, and they played their roles flawlessly. the infamous yakuza couple—madly in love, reckless, shameless, untouchable. their obsession with each other was well-known, a twisted love story whispered in fear.

which meant one thing: ran and y/n had to act just as obsessed. public displays of affection, touching, teasing, pushing boundaries. and when people were watching? they had to make it look real.

so here they were, tangled in each other, hands wandering, lips bruising, lost in a kiss that was too heated for a back alley. too believable.

“uh, boss… i think we need to get out of here now,” one of the bodyguards muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

ran slowly turned his head, eyes dark and sharp.

the poor guy swallowed hard, stepping back.

then, just like that, ran’s expression shifted—a lazy, mocking grin curling on his lips. “you all know damn well how my wife gets when she isn’t satisfied.” his voice was smooth, but the threat was unmistakable. “so be good little guards and learn how to shut the fuck up.”

“y-yes, boss.”

ran turned back to y/n, eyes gleaming with amusement. “now, where were we, my beautiful wife?”

y/n’s glare could burn through steel. “you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“mmm,” ran hummed against her skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder. “just love getting under your skin.”

y/n slid her arms around his neck, but this time, her grip was tight—just enough force to make him tense. she yanked him closer, enough to make him grunt, enough to feel the way his muscles twitched under her touch.

then she leaned in, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “enough is enough, my love. i’m very satisfied already. shall we continue this at home? wouldn’t want our guards to get an even better view when they see me getting railed by you.”

her voice was loud enough for the bodyguards to hear. loud enough to make them stiffen in place.

ran exhaled sharply, amusement flickering in his gaze. then he chuckled, low and entertained. “as you wish, baby.”

when they finally arrived at the yakuza couple’s mansion, they wasted no time settling into the master bedroom. y/n sat on the edge of the table, legs crossed, while ran loomed over her, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“so, what’s the plan, mrs. haitani?” ran drawled.

y/n scoffed. “fuck off.”

as she shifted slightly, the high slit of her dress parted, exposing more of her thighs. ran’s gaze flickered downward. he wasn’t blind—he was still a man, and y/n was undeniably attractive. and if there was one thing better than a beautiful woman, it was a beautiful woman who hated his guts. ruining her would be fun.

ran didn’t actually hate y/n. but god, she made it easy to annoy her.

she was obsessed with proving herself, like bonten would crumble if she let up for even a second. but she already had mikey’s trust, sanzu’s respect—hell, even kakucho acknowledged her skills.

so what was she still fighting for?

maybe that’s why ran loved messing with her. beneath all that pride and obsession with proving herself, she was just as reckless and unhinged as the rest of them—she just refused to admit it.

“why don’t we pick up where we left off?” ran mused, leaning in, his lips dangerously close to hers.

y/n turned her face away just before he could close the distance. “get off me, haitani,” she said coldly.

ran chuckled, unfazed, and took a seat beside her. “y’know, in our line of work, you should really learn how to let off some steam.”

y/n shot him a glare as she stood up. “i’d rather kill myself than touch your dick.”

ignoring him, she strode over to the table, focusing on the blueprint laid out before her. it detailed the mansion’s layout, highlighting the safest route to the basement vault. her men would be the ones retrieving the gold—she just had to make sure nothing went wrong.

behind her, ran lit a cigarette, exhaling a slow stream of smoke before offering her one. she took it between her lips, waiting as he flicked his lighter again, the small flame illuminating his smirk.

“so, what now, mrs. haitani?” he murmured.

y/n shot him a glare before blowing a puff of smoke right into his face. “will you drop that nickname?”

“why should i?” ran teased. “you’re literally my wife.”

she flipped him off before turning back to the blueprint.

finally, she got to business, explaining the plan while ran listened, cigarette dangling lazily from his lips.

the plan was in motion.

y/n unlocked the door to the basement vault, eyes widening at the sight before her. holy shit.

“woah. this is bonten’s?! sick!!” ran whistled, hands on his pockets like he owned the place.

after what felt like forever sneaking the gold out through the underground tunnels, a sudden knock on the door made them both freeze.

fuck.

“ma’am, sir, your dinner is here. we’ll just bring it in and place it on the table.”

y/n’s head snapped to ran. “did you lock the door?”

ran blinked. “…shit.”

pure panic. there was no time. no excuse. nothing—except—

“moan,” ran hissed.

“what?!”

“just moan, y/n!!” he whisper-shouted.

“ugh…” her face scrunched in confusion, but she did it anyway.

“louder.”

“fuck… ugh…”

“yes… baby, just like that.”

they both moaned, playing up the act.

y/n’s men exchanged glances, eyeing the two of them weirdly.

the door, which had started to open, immediately slammed shut.

“s-so sorry, boss!! we’ll just leave your dinner to the main table and—uh—give you two some privacy!”

y/n and ran rushed to lock the door before bursting into laughter.

“what the fuck just happened?” y/n wheezed.

“no clue, but that was fucking hilarious,” ran grinned, still breathless.

they stared at each other, laughter dying down until y/n cleared her throat, straightened up, and walked off like nothing happened. ran just smirked, watching her go.

and after what felt like an eternity, all the gold was safely out, retrieved by bonten.

mission fucking accomplished.

y/n’s phone suddenly rang, cutting through the silence. she glanced at the screen—mikey.

“yes, boss?”

“don’t think your mission is over yet. you two need to lay low for a while. after that, you’ll both disappear without a trace—the yakuza couple was supposed to stay hidden anyway. good work, y/n. you proved yourself again.”

a small smile tugged at her lips. “thanks, boss.” the call ended.

“who was that?” ran asked, tilting his head.

“mikey.”

“what did he want?”

“he said we have to keep up the act for a while, then we can finally ‘disappear’.”

ran smirked, tilting his head. “so you’re telling me i get to keep calling you my wife a little longer? damn, y/n, if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you’re just looking for an excuse to stay with me.”

y/n just rolled her eyes, too exhausted to come up with a comeback.

ran took y/n’s hand, ready to leave. “let’s go.”

but just as he stepped forward, y/n suddenly tugged him back. before he could question it, she reached for his shirt and effortlessly unbuttoned the top three buttons.

his brow lifted. “woah, y/n. if you wanna fuck, you could’ve just said so.”

“shut up. we’re supposed to look like we were fucking, remember? now, play the part.”

ran grinned. “or—and hear me out—we could just do it for real. no need to pretend.”

y/n gave him a deadpan look. “i’ll kill you.”

before he could retort, she tousled her own hair slightly, making it look messier. satisfied, she took ran’s hand and led him out.

they made their way to dinner, playing their roles perfectly, before heading straight to their room for the night.

they got ready for bed, and ran was already sprawled out on the mattress—shirtless.

y/n crossed her arms, unimpressed. “what the fuck are you doing?”

ran barely glanced at her. “going to sleep?”

“you’re not sleeping there.”

he raised a brow. “you don’t get to decide that.” then, turning his back to her, he added with a smirk, “either you sleep here with me or on the sofa—uncomfortably. your choice.”

y/n huffed. “fine.”

stubbornly, she curled up on the couch. or, at least, she tried to sleep. but no matter how much she shifted, the cushions were too stiff, and the cold air nipped at her skin. after what felt like an eternity, she finally gave in, slipping into bed as quietly as possible. not because she cared about waking ran—she couldn’t care less. she just didn’t want him to know he won.

“took you long enough.”

she froze.

“shut up,” y/n muttered, facing away. “couldn’t sleep there.”

ran chuckled, clearly amused. she ignored him, shutting her eyes, but before she could even think about sleep, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back into a warm, solid chest.

“get off me, haitani!” she hissed, squirming. but ran didn’t budge. he was stronger. instead, he just held her tighter.

“shhh. what kind of husband would i be if i didn’t cuddle my wife?”

“fuck you, ran.”

“oh? do you want to?” his fingers teasingly skimmed her waist.

y/n stiffened, about to snap at him, when he let out a low chuckle. “kidding. i’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want.” then, more serious, “but for fuck’s sake, stop moving. i need to sleep.”

“maybe if you got your filthy hands off me, i could lie down peacefully.”

“don’t want to. i like seeing you mad.”

she huffed, debating whether it was worth the struggle. probably not. ran wasn’t letting go anytime soon. and, maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t that bad. his warmth, the way his breath fanned against her neck, how naturally her body fit against his…

y/n’s face burned.

but she let herself relax, just a little. just for tonight. it’s not like she had a choice anyway… right?

the next morning was… well, different.

ran was sprawled out on his back, one arm thrown over y/n, while she was comfortably nestled against his chest—like some picture-perfect married couple.

except they weren’t a married couple.

and y/n was about to be violently reminded of that fact.

a sudden flash. then another. and before her brain could fully register what was happening, a click.

her eyes shot open.

the first thing she saw? a fucking phone.

the second? sanzu standing at the foot of the bed, grinning like a maniac.

y/n screamed. loudly. she shoved ran off of her so hard he groaned.

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

“morning, lovebirds,” sanzu greeted, waving his phone.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?! HOW DID YOU EVEN GET IN?!”

“damn, your security is tight,” sanzu whistled. “so hard to convince them i’m ‘friends’—” (he even air-quoted it) ”—with the infamous yakuza couple.”

“THAT DOESN’T EXPLAIN WHY YOU’RE TAKING PICTURES OF US!”

“boss wanted an update. had to send proof you two were still alive.”

y/n’s eye twitched. “DELETE. IT.”

“too late.” sanzu smirked, shoving his phone in her face. “already sent it to the group chat.”

y/n let out another scream and chucked a pillow at him. “GET OUT!”

sanzu dodged it with a laugh. “didn’t know your kink was hate sex.”

“GET. OUT!!”

“alright, alright! no need to scream, jesus.” sanzu rolled his eyes as y/n practically shoved him out, slamming and locking the door behind him.

she exhaled sharply, pressing her back against the door. then she looked down.

…only in her bra and panties.

fuck.

her eyes widened in horror as realization hit—she must’ve stripped in her sleep. a habit she had when it got too hot. and she’d completely forgotten ran was in bed with her.

so that’s why sanzu assumed they fucked.

before she could spiral further, ran—who had been silently watching this entire shitshow—finally spoke.

“good morning, sexy.”

y/n whipped her head toward him.

he was smirking. biting his lip. ogling at her with zero shame.

she grabbed the nearest piece of clothing off the floor, yanked it over herself, and bolted for the bathroom.

behind her, ran just chuckled.

the day had passed quicker than expected, and now it was already afternoon. y/n was curled up in bed, buried under layers of pajamas and a hoodie—the complete opposite of how she’d started the morning.

“seriously? you’re just gonna rot in here all day?” ran’s irritated voice cut through the room.

y/n didn’t bother responding, too focused on munching her chips and watching tv, treating him like he was nothing more than a ghost.

ran exhaled sharply before snatching the remote and shutting the tv off.

y/n rolled her eyes. “what the fuck is your problem?” she tried to keep her voice steady, but the irritation bled through.

“what’s my problem?” ran scoffed. “you’re sitting here all day like you’re not in the middle of a fucking mission!”

“can’t i have one day off?”

“no, you can’t!” ran shot back, arms crossing over his chest. “weren’t you the one who said this couple is supposed to be obsessed with each other? because right now, you’re doing a shitty job of proving it.”

y/n let out a dry laugh. “oh? what do you want me to do? suck you off in front of everyone?”

y/n shouldn’t have said that—because the next thing they knew, they were already tangled in each other, mouths colliding in a desperate, feverish kiss. y/n’s clothes were long discarded, leaving her in nothing but a lace bra and panties, her body pressed against ran’s as if she was trying to crawl under his skin.

their kisses were messy, hungry—like they’d been starving for this, for each other, for far too long. ran’s lips trailed down her neck, licking and sucking until he was sure to leave marks. y/n was just as desperate, hands roaming his body, nails scraping lightly down his chest before slipping lower.

her fingers ghosted over his cock through his pants, and ran let out a breathy chuckle against her throat. “thought you didn’t wanna touch my dick?”

instead of answering, y/n shoved him back, straddling his lap as she crashed her lips onto his again. one hand braced against his shoulder while the other worked his belt open with practiced ease. once it was undone, she gave it a sharp tug. ran lifted his hips just enough for her to yank it halfway down, exposing the growing bulge beneath his boxers.

she didn’t waste time. wrapping her fingers around him, she pumped his cock, slow and deliberate, her lips finding his neck again. ran groaned, his breath hitching as her thumb teased his slit.

“fuck, y/n…” he exhaled shakily, head tipping back. “didn’t know you were this filthy…”

she covered his mouth with her palm, silencing him with a teasing smirk. “shhh… just wanna make my husband feel good.”

her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing the fabric aside. she trailed kisses down his chest, across the ink on his ribs, lower and lower—until she was kneeling between his legs, face inches from his throbbing cock.

ran watched with hooded eyes as she licked from the base to the tip, agonizingly slow, her gaze locked onto his. his jaw clenched, hands instinctively reaching for her hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail.

“shit—” his voice broke when she finally took him into her mouth, sucking him in inch by inch. ran cursed under his breath, head falling back, fingers tightening in her hair as he fought the urge to thrust into her throat.

but restraint was never his strong suit.

his hips jerked, pushing deeper, and y/n gagged around him, eyes watering as she tried to take it all. ran groaned, watching her struggle, watching her take it anyway.

“fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good,” he rasped, rolling his hips again.

tears pricked at y/n’s eyes, but she didn’t stop—didn’t even think about pulling away. the sight alone was enough to drive ran insane, his grip tightening as he forced himself deeper, relishing the way she took it, the way her nails dug into his thighs.

but just when he was teetering on the edge, he yanked her off, squeezing her cheeks before crashing his lips onto hers, swallowing the desperate moan she let out.

“waited so long to ruin you…”

ran’s voice was low, dripping with something dark as he manhandled y/n onto all fours. one hand pressed against the small of her back, keeping her in place, while the other wrapped around the base of his cock.

he didn’t waste time. spitting directly onto her slick folds, he used the tip of his cock to smear it over her entrance, teasing her with slow strokes.

“fuck… should’ve fucked this pussy a long time ago,” he groaned before sinking into her in one brutal thrust.

y/n’s breath hitched, fingers twisting into the sheets as ran buried himself to the hilt. he started moving immediately, both hands gripping her shoulders as he fucked into her, dragging her back onto his cock with every snap of his hips.

“is that… is that all you got, haitani?” y/n forced out, voice laced with mockery even as her body trembled beneath him. she knew exactly how to get under his skin, and ran hated it.

his grip tightened. “don’t test me, y/n… unless you wanna be crawling out of here tomorrow.”

she let out a breathy chuckle. “should’ve just fingered myself—”

ran shoved her face down into the mattress before she could finish. his palm flattened against the back of her head, pinning her down as he railed her. his pace turned punishing, each thrust knocking the air from her lungs, his cock stretching her so perfectly it had her vision blurring.

“jesus—slow down, ran…!”

he didn’t. didn’t even hear her.

he was too focused on the way her pussy gripped him, too lost in the way her body took everything he gave like she was made for this.

y/n tried to speak, to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t form. only broken moans and desperate cries left her lips, her mind going completely blank as he fucked her into oblivion.

the sounds of skin slapping, the wet, obscene noises of their bodies colliding, and her shameless moans echoed through the mansion. she didn’t care. couldn’t care. all she could think about was him—the way his cock dragged against her walls, the way his grip was bruising, the way he felt so fucking good inside her.

just when she thought she might lose herself completely, ran suddenly pulled out. before she could even register the emptiness, he flipped her onto her back, pressing her into the mattress with his weight.

his gaze was locked onto her as he leaned down, tongue dragging slowly over the bonten tattoo inked between her breasts.

y/n let out a shaky whimper, her whole body shuddering beneath him.

ran smirked against her skin. “what happened, baby?” he cooed, voice dripping with amusement. “all that attitude, and now you’re just lying here, letting me have my way with you?”

his fingers trailed down her stomach, teasing her entrance, feeling how drenched she was.

“you hate me, right?” he taunted, slipping two fingers inside with ease. “so why’s your pussy so fucking wet for me?”

without warning, ran slammed back into her, knocking the breath from her lungs as he caged her beneath him. his arms braced on either side of her head, trapping her as he set a brutal pace, fucking into her with the same unrelenting force as before.

his face was buried in the crook of her neck, breath hot against her skin as he whispered, “not so tough now, eh?”

y/n barely managed a glare, biting back a moan as she spat, “shut up and just fuck me.”

ran only chuckled, amused by her defiance—because he knew she was losing it, her body betraying her even as she tried to act unbothered.

grinning, he shifted his weight, grabbing the backs of her thighs and folding her legs against her chest. the new angle had her gasping, his cock hitting even deeper, making her entire body tremble beneath him.

“let’s see who’s gonna cum first,” he taunted, watching her face twist in pleasure.

“no…” y/n turned her head, hiding her face behind her arms, embarrassed by how quickly she was unraveling.

ran loved it. loved how she had so much fucking attitude, yet here she was, taking everything he gave like she was made for it. watching her fall apart beneath him, so submissive, so fucking ruined—it was heaven-sent.

“ran… i can’t—” she whimpered, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes as her body tensed, overwhelmed by pleasure.

ran cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him before slipping his thumb between her parted lips.

“oh, you can, baby,” he cooed, watching as she instinctively sucked. “you’re so fucking good to me. clenching around my cock like you don’t want me to leave.”

he pulled his thumb free, dragging it down her swollen lips before tapping it against her clit. her whole body jolted, another broken moan spilling from her mouth.

“that’s it, baby,” he groaned, snapping his hips harder. “take it. you wanted me to fuck you? then fucking take it.”

y/n was gone, unable to think, unable to form words—all she could do was take him, let him fuck her raw, let him use her like he had every right to.

ran grinned down at her, eyes gleaming. “not talking back now, huh?” he teased, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. “where’s all that attitude, princess? too busy getting fucked stupid?”

he could feel it—her walls fluttering, her thighs trembling, the way her breath hitched like she was right on the edge.

“go on, baby,” he groaned. “cum on my cock.”

her body obeyed before her mind could catch up. a cry tore from her throat as she came hard, body convulsing beneath him. ran groaned at the way she clenched around him, his thrusts growing sloppy.

pulling out at the last second, he fisted his cock, stroking himself fast as he hovered over her. y/n barely had time to catch her breath before the first hot spurt of his cum painted her chest, dripping between her breasts.

ran exhaled a shaky breath, watching the mess he made of her, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“fuck,” he muttered, smearing some of it over her nipple with his cock.

y/n gave him a tired glare. “you’re disgusting.”

ran just smirked, tapping her chin with his cock.

“and you love it.”

ran wiped his release off y/n’s skin with a cloth he grabbed from the nightstand, slow and deliberate, before tossing it aside. then, without a word, he rolled onto his back beside her, breath still uneven. y/n lay staring at the ceiling, mirroring his position. the heat between them still lingered in the air, thick and unshaken.

“so… what now?” ran murmured.

“dunno. still hate your guts, though.”

“same.”

silence. heavy. loaded.

then, y/n exhaled, voice firm. “we should never do this again.”

ran nodded once. “right. this is only a one-time thing.”

except—it wasn’t.

part 1 | part 2