#tw mafia themes

[merao-mariposa]

I have your back, you have my heart

Day three of the pissa/death duo week! This au was the idea of @amymorningstar ​​in this post I really wanted to write about the Mafia Pissa and this was a good excuse for!

“Mafia + I promised you as long as I'm with you you'll never be alone again”

(…)

Philza Minecraft had been on the dark side of the streets for a very long, long time, since his first interventions dismantling brothels that were a little too... “flexible” with the idea of consent going to authentic inhumane places, all falling under the scourge of the Angel of Death until a man, a friend, appeared in front of him with the idea of dominating the criminal world, converting it to his ideals. That was a long time ago but corruption spreads like a fire in gasoline and Phil was there to suffocate it until it went out.

Maybe it was his cruelty in how he snuffed out the lives of those corrupt men that led him to pay the karma he was paying right now, he doesn't know.

The man sitting at his desk looked miserable for say the least, from the outside you feel the discord in the trademark half-twisted hat or the uncorked bottle of wine resting on his messy desk but you can see how the damage runs deeper than that if you know Philza well enough, the immaculate two pieces-suit stand out like a sore thumb on a man so casual and relaxed, the white shirt is buttoned at the neck almost restrictively, and his trail of beard is just a little more prominent than it has been in recent months.

The last few months, that sugar-filled almost year where mafia boss BOLAS had been closer to being an angel than he would ever be since he lived in what he could only call heaven.

His arrival in heaven was a young man with messy, dark hair. His purple eyes dragged him deep into the flames of hell now that they were no longer looking at him.

The fact that he had no one else to blame but himself didn't make it any easier.

But when Sinfonia appeared everything was perfect. He was reserved but easy to smile, aloof but with loyal friends, so pathetic (and cute) yelling at the slightest threat but he was a real threat in front of some of the most ruthless members of BOLAS, selective but had two beautiful kids who looked alike barely in the whites of the eyes, even his last name “Sinfonia” evidenced the harsh contradiction that surrounds the object of the crow's loves, a man as gifted in every possible musical instrument as if he had the Midas touch, and yet that very appropriate last name wasn't real. His Missa was a set of contradictions and embarrassing coincidences over knots in lavender stems.

Which in retrospect must have been a loud alarm, a siren announcing the disaster that his false moon left in its wake in the crow's heart.

It turns out that his love lied, the fire burning inside him to abandon important meetings for the sole purpose of sharing more time of his life with him as opposed to the absolute security of being understood as someone returning to his childhood home (beloved, cared, welcome) with the ease of riding a bike. All of that had been a waste.

The soft hugs that lulled him into deep dreams (chasing away the nightmares that Missa shouldn't know about for his own good) to the chaste kisses all over the face that released the negativity from his husband's shoulders (and if instead of being a result of his low self-esteem was his guilt taking charge?) to the private kisses that said “I miss you” and “one last time, love” without the words, all were nothing but lies.

Not that he had cared much about anything at that moment, he found himself focused on his children (because now they were also Phil's children) they were angels and he only had the head to raise them with Missa, who returned with a sweeter demeanor after his night walks and long work trips, he tenderly asked for nap together as a family.

He should have questioned more why Missa disappeared like that, coincidentally, just when Phil was paying for the services of the most dangerous mercenary on the black market, unlike the assassins he had on his payroll, this guy had the prestige of killing only with his touch, too lethal and above all cautious, Phil did not even met him in person, they only contacted through third parties who agreed on the service and only told about his violet hood and his skull mask. It is said; no one has seen his face and lived to tell.

Like I said before; Phil is old, he's been in the environment for years where only an intelligent man could live as long as he does, with that in mind how was it possible that he didn't know that his sweet husband was actually the most dangerous bastard in the underworld? Shocked by the discovery, in this kind of world, someone you trust can stab you in the back so how can you trust a man who lied to you?

And Missa knew who Philza Minecraft was, what his name means, he always knew, he did always know when something had gone wrong and Philza needed more comfort, always two steps ahead of his needs because he knew it.

The time after their fight breaks up, everything is a drunken blur in the crow's mind, he doesn't remember what they said, he only knows the screams and the revolver clicking in his left pocket while Missa, The Reaper or whoever it was have knowledge of the gun in his pocket and as soon as he pointed it at the man he said he loved time ago the gun was already on the ground, rolling behind this man who was unrecognizable to Phil, the shouting match continued more heated after the blonde pointed his gun at the helpless and clumsy Missa.

That was the last time he saw Missa.

Phil has been so distracted, tired and paranoid since then, even the security is a disaster ignoring the advice of the rest of BOLAS. Philza has scattered guards in unimportant areas, some stuck to him all day but the majority watch that Missa does not return or get close to the children (his children; Missa's own children) Chayanne almost bites him at the slightest suspicion of not being able to see his father, so his impenetrable fortress suddenly becomes a weak place.

Literally and metaphorically

He ordered several guards not to even dream of setting foot in certain areas of the family mansion (those such as the music room, the kitchen and the art studio, any room with traces of Missa must remain identical to how it was before his departure, as if they were waiting for him)

Philza feels betrayed and hurt but above all he is so confused, his rational mind tells him to defend himself, to put up the highest walls to protect himself, his organization and his family but his family is Missa. He is outside and Philza once promised that he will demolish every wall in the world that did not open its doors for the man with purple eyes.

And yet here he is.

Inside his fortress it can breathe the air of a broken family, the kids have believed him for the moment but the tension is felt increasing with every minute they pass without hearing from their papa. Inside the fortress are no longer him and his chicks but a greedy and lonely crow with two brittle shells and a broken heart.

The days pass in that agony until there is a surprise attack from which they cannot respond.

Tensions with the Federal mafia had gotten much worse in recent months, after his formal alliance with Soulfire he did not believe they were going to attack seriously.

But they did.

Thank his Goddess, thank The Lady for allowing Chayanne and Tallulah to be in the school while the white clad mercenaries broke down every door and shot at anything that moved.

At least Missa would get them back and they would be together again. Just as they should have been before he and his greedy hope for a family took that away from them.

As soon as his office door is kicked down one of those white masked sons of bitches puts his hands on him, something happens.

Penetrating in his vision when he sees him but there is stealth in his steps, he is the only one to notice his presence until two bullets (how quickly are repeated) knock down two of the men to dead, wound another in the shoulder, and the last one misses just centimeters away for paint the wall with Philza's skull.

Four shots, two fired before the reaction time of their distracted predators and attacked from the purest darkness, shots fly towards the door and if it was not absolutely broken after that rude kick it is now unusable, falling from its hinges under the siege and behind it are no signs of the mysterious shooter.

Tense seconds pass until one of the feds quickly puts one of his dirty hands in Phil's hair, pulling hard on the golden strands in a hissing threat and that's when he enters the scene.

The men on each side of the door were the first to fall, one quickly takes the place of his fallen companion, his gun raised, ready to shoot, followed by the one with the shot in the shoulder, unfortunately with that wound he is not able to shoot at time to prevent another bullet from the darkness from taking the life of the other one.

The bullets fly again while the threshold of the door swallows the corpse, dragging it out and soon, very soon, his savior enters the room with a constant step carrying the dead body as a kind of human shield.

A well-placed shot, other fall.

And the guy who touched him is one of them, his screams are muffled by his mask and by the gunshots exploding around him.

Phil hides under his desk as fast as he can but not before taking a bullet in the shoulder, it hurts like shit.

But it seems that it hurts them more because he can hear how one by one the white masks fall with sharp blows, they could barely scream in horror before fall with a fatal shott.

Fast, efficient and lethal

When it seems that the rain of bullets is ending, Phil distinguishes the voices from outside his office. That sounds like… Chainsaws? And laughs Phil knows immediately that his best people, who should be with his children, are on and from what he hears they are having fun.

He slowly peeks out of his desk, his hand warm from the blood dripping from his shoulder, and finally sees the reason of his recent insomnia.

Missa, or also known as The Reaper, moves almost with grace but the anger burns in his every movement, it is a wild spectacle as soon as the bullets run out, each man who even tries to get close to Phil is shot down with ease, he watch in trance as his husband smash anyone who tries to get close to him to pieces.

“M- Missa…?” he comes out as a dismayed whisper

The Reaper turns to look at him for half a second, which one of them takes advantage of to kick him in the stomach. Missa lets out a grunt of acute pain but holds the guy's leg with his hands, taking advantage of pushing him forward, knocking another of them against the favorite glass table.

The two guys are left on the floor, one on top of the other and one's suit is now full of glass.

And just like that Missa goes for the next one and Phil can only watch in shock.

Missa is The Reaper, The Reaper is Missa. They are both the same person; they have been forever.

Missa, his Missa is his mercenary and his mercenary is his husband.

he approaches, slowly, as slowly as he can with a bullet embedded in his shoulder. The cacophony of screams shakes the floor and Philza suddenly realizes that he must have gone down to the panic room.

The weight of not doing so clings to his shoulders, the clear implications trying to cross the capo’s tired mind like a malicious whisper makes him feels so wrong, so manipulative.

But he was waiting for him to save him

Of a thousand people in this aggressive environment who swore their loyalty to him and finds himself depending on the arrival of the one who not only never swore anything to him but also betrayed him.

Oh well, who betrayed who?

After yelling at him for lying to him when he also lied, pointing a gun at him and taking him away from his own children, he knows that the Philza of the past would have sent him to hell for ruining the things with Missa.

Missa knew who he was before, he knew it from very early on and that affected Phil, it made him feel cornered and at a disadvantage. He realized at that moment that he was afraid; he didn't fear the hitman under his roof as much as he feared the man under his sheets. feared he was so vulnerable letting him walk around the red mafia's base of operations, taking the children to school every morning, training Chayanne and hearing Tallulah's flute in the distance did terrified him, his worst nightmare was in how his heart was warmed by them so soft and gentle in the reaper's expert hands he could take out his heart and the worst thing is that he would have left it in order to see the children and Missa every morning when he woke up.

My God, he was crazy, he went crazy when he fell in love with him and even crazier when Phil sabotaged his own happiness.

Loneliness tasted bitter on his lips, power and honor became poison with the diffuse days, with his cold bed at night, with his absence piercing his chest.

The last man fell and with the elegance of a dancer stabbed by a steel dagger into his chest, he did the same with the other two men on the ground. The Reaper left no witnesses or loose ends.

He could hear in the distance Baghera and Cellbit stopping their chainsaws which was a good sign. The Federation had basically sent a mini army to his grounds and he partly wondered if his men knew that Missa was there with him.

His name tasted salty when it finally left Phil's lips in a whisper, it tasted like the tears he shed every time he was sober to remember his absence. Behind that mask it is almost impossible to perceive the purple eyes but he knows well that look that is hidden in front of him.

Missa wipes the blood on his own pants with slow movements, the dagger pressed against his thigh until it's clean enough.

“Missa…” Phil insists, he shouldn't insist to the man who has the dagger, especially when he is hurt.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he feels (not sees) the intense gaze on his shrunken figure, well, at least he now has his attention. The purple eyes that he loves so much scan him from top to bottom and a wave of shame hits the stunned and guilty part of his subconscious as he remembers how he looks even worse for being in the middle of a fucking shootout. That wasn't how he would have wanted to see him again see but it was the most likely way to meet again now that he knew they were in the same work area

His eyes seem to linger on the wound on his shoulder and if he could see his husband's face, he would say he was not pleased with it.

“…Phil” Missa's voice sounds like a late greeting and is focused on him.

Goddess, how he had missed that voice

The professional, and infamous mercenary approaches, a little more hesitant than he should for a man of his reputation and a wave of affection breaks over Philza, he too takes a single step closer and they are looking at each other as the first time, feels like looking at the moon at its peak or the sun descending. He can't, he doesn't have the right to act like a wet cat after tearing up his enemies and expecting Phil to be normal about it. Missa just can't do that to him, he bites back a light laugh and takes another step in his direction. noticing that there is blood on his clothes and some cuts on it but if I had to guess I would say that most of it is from the others and Phil is already losing blood himself.

Missa takes another step, knowing the bleeding has stopped and believing the bullet grazed but he won't be sure until he concentrates on something other than mustering the words to ask him to fucking take off the mask.

Fortunately, he seems to read his mind as Phil doesn't even finish taking another slow step towards him when the mask is finally gone, The Reaper has officially left the room and his husband looms in front of him in his place. Is it strange to say that death is good for him? His face, his hair and the sparkle in his eyes or is the blonde just delirious?

Be that as it may, it doesn't take long for them to find themselves in the middle of the destroyed office as if it were his own world.

"You went"

“You kicked me out.”

“You still shouldn't have left” he replied very intelligently and Missa smiled, a little nervous.

“Does it hurt so much?” The black-haired man worried, looking at his injured shoulder and Philza wasn't having his partner distracted just like that.

"No, no. It doesn't hurt" He responded, knowing that lies were not the best for the relationship at this time.

Missa frowned like a kitten about to sneeze but he allowed this one for him, just for now.

“You… you're right Philza” Missa lowered his head in shame and a confuse “what?” died in the blonde's throat.

"I shouldn't have left-"

“I pointed at you with a gun, mate” he interrupted, feeling guilty and a little freaked out by whatever that means, it all was his fault, why was Missa saying that?

“Still, I should have stayed, I wanted to stay” hesitantly he noticed how Missa’s arms floated loosely around him. They weren't very elegant clothes, just good enough for work and Philza wanted to focus on that and the stains of blood all over his man instead of the new confession, after everything he did, but how could Missa still wanted him?

“Missa…”

“I promised, right?” Phil raised his head suddenly, searching for his gaze between the strands of black hair that escaped from his messy ponytail. “I always keep my promises, dear”

When the members of Bolas made sure they had the entire area clean, they advanced, covering the entire perimeter until they climbed the stairs that led to the red leader's office, they found themselves face to face with the splintered frame of the door, an office in an absolute disaster. with the imposing doors thrown next to the lifeless bodies and in the eye of that past storm was the mob boss.

Philza was leaning against his desk (which was out of its place) the purple cloth acted as an improvised tourniquet and in his arms was the waist of a tall man with black hair that they had trouble recognizing at first if it weren't for the clear display of affection, unaware that they had company. Now Phil kept his face buried in the taller man's torso as if he were afraid to let him go again and Missa hummed, deeply satisfied with having his little bird in his arms again, he carefully avoided the other man's shoulder but remained attentive, didn't want to leave that wound out of sight until he could drag his husband stubborn ass to the infirmary. Ignoring the living and dead audience, the couple was trapped in their own world, little giggles that didn't seem to go anywhere, dying and returning with each other's laughter in a vicious circle, finally together.

“I promised you, I didn’t? as long as I'm with you you'll never be alone again, cuervito”

EXTRA:

“You look pretty good with that ponytail you know, mate?”

“Philza!”

“So, guys, do I tell Jaiden that there will be no divorce?”

“Shut the fuck up, Charlie”

[aftgficrec]

My Personal Favorite Fics EVER!! All Neil/Andrew

I hope I am doing this right! I just hit the share button on my bookmarked fics. Idk if any of these have been on here before (I have read a lot of fics and it gets confusing to know which ones I found on here bc there are so many good recommendations, or ones I found on my own. But these are 3 of my favorite fics that I feel like are the most well done!

• Everything's Alright by DarkD: This fic is unfinished but so worth the read!! It is a soulmates au, and in it Neil and Andrew are looking out for eachother since they are 6 and 7 years old. It completely changes their dynamic but manages to keep the characters realistic. I love the direction it was going, I hope the author finishes it, but even if they don’t what they have written so far is worth the read.

• If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger: This fic is soooo amazing!! It was posed pretty recently (starting January 2024 and finishing in May) and It shows a different direction with Aaron and Andrew’s bonding, and different reasons for them having problems with each other. It features writer/author Andrew and Law Student turned police officer Aaron. The writing is so high quality and it is a completely finished fic!! The writing to show the writing of the book Andrew has written alone is impressive enough to get you to read it. I love it so much, it also gives a more realistic approach to Neil’s life and trauma as well as gives you more of a perspective on the problems of Aaron’s life. (Even tho it’s an au and doesn’t show his life during AFTG)

• Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22: This fic is not finished but completely captivated my attention when I saw it. I was surprised I had not read it before (because I am obsessed with Raven Neil fics, and this is one of them) but then I realized it was posted within the last year or so. It’s completely underrated. It does have a lot of hits but the kudos count not being in the thousands is a crime against humanity. The realistic take on. Neil’s trauma and different things going on as he is still connected very heavily to the Moriyama’s is sooo interesting. And if you are looking for a fic where Neil is a victim of SA/Rape this fic is also a good one for you. (Though it does have a lot of trauma so mind the tags) I know a lot of people are looking for fics like that tho and it’s hard to find bc there is so much SA trauma in AFTG 😔

Thanks for the recs and for sharing your thoughts on the fics! Readers, all of these stories lean toward the darkest themes of AFTG. -A

Everything's Alright by DarkD [Rated E, 182901 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Previously recced here

Souls weren't meant to be left alone, so they split, always looking for their other half. No matter how long it took, the moment a soul existed, it sought the one that would complete it. The main indication is, when one of the halves of the soul turns seven years old, an identical mark appears on both parts. Along with that comes a set of unique abilities that soulmates can only use with each other—for protection, for finding each other. Soulmates would never be alone.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: gun violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: murder, tw: canonical character death

If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 43145 Words, Complete, 2024]

Previously featured in this long andreil + aaron angst ask, our staff recs writers post, and as a random rec

Neil is imprisoned at sixteen years old for being the Butcher of Baltimore. Andrew obsesses, and Aaron obsesses because Andrew does, and everything goes wrong and raw and painful. Feat. the twinyards breaking each other’s hearts, and a decent amount of shade on the American justice system.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: implied/referenced torture

​​Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22 [Rated M, 163298 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024]

After the horrific incident that happened in the nest and the sound of Kevin crying, Nathaneil made the hard call and bargained with his life to get Jean and Kevin out, having no slight idea about the storm that was heading his way And after being missing for two years, Jean and Kevin swallowed the hard truth that Nathaneil might be dead somewhere To their surprise one day he appears out of the blue looking so much like their brother but nothing like Nathaneil at all Or Nathniel went on the run with his mother when he was 9 years old but three years later Nathan caught up to them and threw Nathaneil in the nest So we can say some things went a bit different .

NB: playlist for this fic

tw: dark, tw: gang rape, tw: dubcon, tw: human trafficking, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: assault, tw: flashbacks, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: abuse and torture, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: medication addiction and withdrawal, tw: recreational drug use, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: vomit, tw: homophobia, tw: canonical character death

[heartspin2023]

NEW CHAPTER OF MUTED HEART!

For the final hour, on the final day of November, I have posted a new chapter for Muted Heart, my original Mafia slow burn romance, which is revving up finally! Honestly, these 2 idiots sometimes. LOL

He trailed off, eyes now one the ground as he pulled at his sleeve, no longer able to look Myles in the eye. 

"You do seem to be. .  .," the words trailed off and he waited for it. Socially inept. Awkward. Poor conversationalist. 

He thought back to their movie nights and mentally cursed- he should have gave more input instead of letting Myles rattle on like a nerd at a con, the way his eyes lit up the smile that pulled at his lips-

Vaughan was pulled from his berating thoughts by the comment ," of a mother hen," and he shot his head up to look to Myles in shock.

"I beg your pardon?!?" he said incredulously," Mother hen?!?

[fangdokja]

To him, you're perfect. To you, he's just a mission.

❤︎ Synopsis. In a world of blood and power, you became his perfect wife—calm, obedient, and indispensable. But beneath your icy façade, a deadly game of lies and survival brews, and he’ll never know that you’re the one who could destroy him.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanon. The Bride of Blood - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 1,459

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, sexual themes, BDSM

♡ His Story. 🔞"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who first noticed you during a violent upheaval in the criminal underworld, where blood was spilled more than ink on treaties.

You were the perfect wife—elegant, calm, and obedient.

His men whispered about your grace, but he only saw the subtle precision in your movements, a dancer in a minefield.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who felt a perverse sense of peace watching you tend to his wounds after a firefight.

"You’re reckless," you murmured, stitching his torn flesh with steady hands. The sharp tang of alcohol filled the air, mingling with the metallic stink of blood.

His laughter was low and cruel. “And yet you keep mending me, zhena moya.” You didn’t flinch under his gaze, but your fingers trembled ever so slightly, betraying a crack in your otherwise impenetrable façade.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who surrounded himself with walls of loyalty and fear, yet you slipped through them like a shadow.

Your quiet efficiency made you indispensable; your loyalty, unquestionable. You never balked at the grotesque reminders of his power—the severed hands of a traitor, the guttural pleas of dying men.

"Why do you stay?" he asked once, watching you clean blood from the floor with detached precision.

"Because I vowed to," you replied, voice devoid of warmth. He smirked, taking it as devotion, never suspecting the mission beneath your skin.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who made you his wife in a spectacle of opulence and terror.

The wedding was a gilded cage, a feast of gold and crimson.

He kissed you beneath a chandelier made of diamonds and glass, while outside, his enemies burned in their cars, charred bodies marking the territory of his love. You smiled as cameras flashed, but your stomach churned at the sound of distant screams.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who trusted you enough to let you into his inner sanctum. Late nights spent poring over ledgers and strategic maps became a routine.

"Tell me, what do you see?" he’d ask, his voice honeyed with suspicion.

You pointed out weaknesses, vulnerabilities, your mind calculating probabilities faster than his most seasoned lieutenants.

He called you brilliant; you called it survival.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who can’t keep his hands off you, as if touching you is the only way he can prove to himself that you’re real.

His fingers are always tracing the curve of your spine, ghosting along the edge of your jaw, a silent claim. His touch lingers, heavy with possession, even when his mood is lethal and his hands are stained with blood.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who wakes you in the middle of the night, his body already pressed against yours, hard and unyielding.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. The sheets are kicked aside as he drags you beneath him, his weight suffocating and intimate.

“You’re my peace,” he says, though his touch is anything but gentle. He takes you slowly at first, savoring every cry, every tremble, before his control snaps and he devours you whole.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who fucks you in places you shouldn't be touched—

Against the marble counter in the kitchen, your hands slipping on the smooth surface as he drives into you; in the backseat of his bulletproof car while his driver pretends not to notice the muffled moans and the rhythmic creak of leather; even in his private jet, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he degrades you in Russian, the words dark and guttural.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who loves watching you come undone beneath him, your carefully crafted mask shattering in his hands.

He knows you try to hide your reactions, to remain composed, but it only spurs him on. “Don’t hold back, lyubov moya,” he says, his voice velvet-soft and cruel.

“Let me hear how much you need me.” And when you finally break, crying out his name, his smirk is equal parts victorious and feral.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who becomes almost animalistic when his jealousy flares. One stray glance from another man and he’s dragging you to his private quarters, tearing at your clothes.

“I’ll remind you who you belong to,” he growls, his hands rough and demanding. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, marked, and utterly consumed by him, your body a canvas for his obsession.

“Mine,” he’d growl, over and over, as if the repetition could make it true.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who has a near-obsessive fixation on filling you, stretching you, owning you in the most primal way.

“How are you not pregnant yet?” he muses darkly, his fingers tracing circles on your inner thigh. He pulls you onto his lap, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Maybe I need to try harder,” he whispers, thrusting into you without warning, his eyes burning into yours as he takes you again and again, his movements relentless, determined.

“You’ll give me an heir one day,” he murmured, his voice thick with possessive desire. “A little prince or princess with your eyes and my ruthlessness.”

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who couldn’t keep his hands off you, even during the most mundane moments.

Cooking breakfast? He’d slide behind you, his hands wandering beneath your robe. Reading a book? He’d tug it from your grasp, his lips finding your neck as his body pressed against yours.

"You’re a distraction," you muttered one night as he pinned you to the bed, his lips trailing down your stomach.

"And you’re my obsession," he replied, his voice dripping with lethal promise.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who saw sex as another way to own you, to remind you of your place in his world. But even he couldn’t deny the way your body haunted him, the way he craved your touch like a drug.

“You make me weak,” he confessed one night, his voice low and raw as he traced the curve of your spine. “And I hate you for it.”

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who began to suspect that you were too perfect.

The way you navigated his world of violence with clinical detachment. The way you always seemed to know exactly what he needed, even before he did. It wasn’t love, he realized; it was precision. A scalpel disguised as a wife.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who saw glimpses of something darker beneath your calm exterior.

The first time you shot a man—clean between the eyes to save his life—he swore he saw something flicker in your gaze. Was it fear? Regret? Or was it just the ghost of the person you’d been before? He couldn’t tell, but the thought consumed him.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who pressed you for your past one drunken night, his voice slurred with vodka and possessiveness.

"Who were you before me, malyshka? What did you dream of?"

You lied through your teeth, weaving a story of lost parents and humble beginnings. He crushed your hand in his, murmuring, "You're mine now. I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you." You forced a smile, choking on the irony.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who unwittingly began to unravel his own empire in his obsession with you. His paranoia sharpened with every stray glance from his men, every unfamiliar scent on your clothes.

"Do you love me?" he asked one night, his breath hot against your neck.

You hesitated—only for a second—but it was enough.

His grip tightened, bruising your arm. "Say it," he demanded, voice a low growl. "Of course," you whispered, the words like glass shards in your throat.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who built a kingdom of fear and blood but found himself undone by the ghost of a woman who had never truly been his.

A woman who kissed him with cold lips and watched him sleep with calculating eyes.

A woman who loved the mission more than she could ever love him.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool

[violetmuses]

Perfection! 🖤😩@rookthorne 👏🏾

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ♛ Artist!Bucky Barnes x Mafia!F!Reader Word Count ♛ 2.3k Warnings ♛ Swearing, pet names, fluff, meet cute, shy!Bucky Author's Note ♛ Oh, this was some of the most fun I have had writing. If you recognise the Goddess on the right in the moodboard, you know my plans already. Thank you to all who hyped me up on this, and I am not sorry for how self-indulgent this is. I hope you enjoy.

Events ➷ ♛ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse | Ｃ１ - Sculptor AU | June-iverse Masterlist ♛ @mcukinkbingo Ｇ４ - Meet Cute | Bingo Masterlist

The Queen's Masterpiece Masterlist

To rule the underworld took an iron fist, and it was easy to make your will known, but just this once, a soft touch – a gentle word, would get you what you wanted.

“That will be all, gentlemen.” 

Men scurried from the table at your dismissal, leaving the conference room empty and bare, aside from slips of paper and empty glasses left in their wake. It was a relief – after the past four hours, your patience had been tested almost beyond what you could endure. “Fucking men,” you spat, a snarl on your lips.

A heavy exhale whistled past your lips, and you swirled the last of your drink in your glass, and then slammed it back with a wince. Three knocks sounded on the heavy doors, and you rolled your eyes. “I said it’s over–get ou- Oh.”

“I figured you’d appreciate seeing a friendly face.”

You stared at the intruder for a moment, taking in the pressed suit and slicked back blond hair, neat beard, and bright, calculating blue eyes. “You’re right,” you sighed, pinching your brow. “How are you, Steve? Or should I call you Nomad–is this business?”

“Nah,” Steve said, smiling. You watched him take the seat to your right, his hands clasping together and resting on the table. “Here on pleasure actually.”

A snort of laughter escaped before you could compose yourself, and you raised a brow. “Is that so?”

Steve grinned and shook his head, pulling his phone out of his suit pocket. “My best friend, you remember him–Bucky?” 

You casted back for a moment, the memory of the built and muscled artist that Steve gushed about to no end filled your mind’s eye – long hair, handsome features, and the sweetest and most shy disposition, one that made you want him more than anything else. Bucky had been in your sights for the longest time. “Yeah, I do. Why?”

“His latest exhibition has been a hit, and I was wondering if you’d come?” Steve asked, handing you his phone that was open to a webpage of the high end gallery down the block. “He’s asked about you, actually.”

Surprise gripped you in its claws, and it must have shown on your face if Steve’s smirk was anything to go by. “Why would your best friend be asking about lil’ ol’ me, Rogers?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Steve groused, taking his phone back. “You know why.”

“Enlighten me.”

The eye roll you received in return made you laugh, but Steve opened his mouth to continue, “Bucky saw you at the last gala, or something. You captured his attention.”

“And you’re telling me he’s asked about me because–?”

“Because I want you to get out of your damn office and out there,” Steve said, shrugging. “There’s no ulterior motive here, whatsoever.”

“I’ll believe that the day hell freezes over.” The glass in your hand thudded against the surface of the table, and you rose from your chair, your pant suit falling neatly into place and concealing your shoulder holster – not before Steve saw it, however. 

“You’re still carrying?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” you snorted, stretching to the ceiling. “You expect the head of the Mafia to walk around unarmed just because she’s a woman?”

“No,” Steve cut in, his hands raised slightly. “I just thought since you have two hunks at the door, you would embrace your… feminine side.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you laughed, shoving Steve on the shoulder as he sniggered. “Let me get ready, and you can take me as your plus one.”

Steve saluted and strode out of the conference room, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You lingered at the head of the table, your hand running over the back of your chair, stuck in a vicious spiral. 

For months now, you had wondered and thought about the shy artist, and, given the fact that the Adonis of a man was so damn shy, you’d kept your distance out of respect for Steve and their friendship. But here Steve was, strolling into your office – one of the very, very few people who could even make it to your floor without interception from any of your men (and women) – asking you to attend an evening at said artist’s gallery.

It made no damn sense. And for a woman quick on your feet, it drove you mad – there was an ulterior motive, Steve was crafty like that, but what exactly was it?

“Madness, it is,” you muttered aloud. “Fucking madness.”

What was wrong with playing the role of the she-wolf intent on hunting the lamb?

Nightfall had approached quickly in your anticipation, and you waited in the back of your car while your guards drove to the venue. Forgoing tradition, you wore a different suit, dark in colour with a slight shimmer in the fabric – big enough to hide your concealed sidearms, and warm enough to make sure you didn’t freeze in the chilled Brooklyn night air. 

You shuffled up in your seat, and rested a hand on the driver and your head guard’s shoulder. “Jamie, darling, drop me and park the car. I’ll be fine with Ari.”

“Ponyatoy,” James replied, nodding once. “I will find you in the main hall.”

“Sounds good,” you affirmed, squeezing the muscle of his shoulder once, before turning to Ari. “Hear that, handsome? You’re up.”

Ari chuckled. “You betcha.”

The car came to a stop and Ari swung out of his seat, the blinding flashes of bulbs and cameras and spotlights of his open door not a surprise. “Good luck,” James said quietly, looking at you through grey, watchful eyes. “Do not let them ruffle you.”

“‘Course not,” you replied, smiling. “I’m the Queen of an Empire, darling.” The door opened and the roar of the crowd deafened you for just a second. 

James huffed a laugh and faced forward once more, and you slid out of your seat to face the awaiting vultures. The car sped away behind you, and you stood tall, allowing Ari to take the lead and direct you through the doors and away from the press. 

The sprawling gallery was swarming with rich guests – designer gowns and CEOs far as the eyes could see, while statues and sculptures and paintings lined the walls and set patterns over the floor, interspaced with waiters carrying champagne trays. “My God,” you breathed, taking it in with Ari standing at your shoulder. “It’s the lion’s den.”

“And you’re the Queen. Remember that, love,” Ari mumbled, his gaze darting around and watching the crowd. 

“Always my saviour,” you whispered, leaning up on your heels to kiss him on the cheek. “Now, let’s find Nomad before-”

“You called?” Steve said suddenly, his voice over your other shoulder. 

Ari laughed and shook Steve’s hand, breaking character just for a second before resuming his usual stance; brooding, and menacing. 

“We’re fine to use names here,” Steve said lowly, leaning in slightly. “No one here knows what I am, they don't know shit. Well, except for Buck–kind of.”

“It astounds me that he is cool with it,” you mused, smirking. It gave you hope for your plans. Lowering your voice, you continued, “Being my best hitman comes with its own fame, after all, darling.”

Steve laughed and rubbed the back of his neck – the movement made your stomach flip. “Wait, he doesn’t know that part?”

“No, but he knows I work… in the underground?” Steve offered sheepishly, his eyes narrowing. “But it doesn’t matter, he knows I work for big names–it’s how he knows of you specifically.”

“Oh my god, Rogers,” you sighed. Ari raised a brow and made no comment. “Alright, at least he knows I’m not exactly innocent–Queen of the underworld, you know, such a prestigious title.” The words came out in a sarcastic huff, and you turned to look at the front doors where James was just striding in. “Ah, here he is.” 

James came to stand next to Ari, offering Steve a subtle nod and a heated, lingering glance, of which Steve returned. “Enough heart eyes, you two,” you cut in, and the both of them stared at you sharply – you just shrugged. “Care to give me a tour, Stevie?”

“Yes, your highness,” Steve sighed, bowing and offering his hand. “Right this way, m’lady.”

You laughed and took his hand, walking arm in arm from sculpture to painting, mingling with the rich folk seamlessly. James and Ari tailed you both, just within reach and shadowing every move. 

“This one,” Steve started, pointing at an intricately made sculpture against the wall and lit up by three spotlights – a centrepiece if you ever saw one. “It’s one of Buck’s favourites, he worked on it for months.”

“It is stunning,” you said, voice awestruck as you took in the angular planes of the medium. “I would love to have it in my office.”

“Who knows,” Steve ventured, looking at you with a playful smirk on his lips. “You could commission him.” His gaze ventured back to the room at large, and you watched his eyes light up when he fixed onto something in the crowd. “And talk of the devil. Buck!”

Your eyes darted towards the approaching figure – a dark blue button up hugging his chest, and black slacks that hugged his thighs, dress shoes gleaming and his hair, longer than when you saw him last, was tucked behind his ears. 

The she-wolf in your chest perked and eyed the lamb with interest, her gaze heated and possessive. Bright eyes met yours, and you smirked, tilting your head back only slightly to appraise him, and the move caused a light flush to dust his cheekbones. 

“Buck, it’s good to see you, punk,” Steve greeted, pulling Bucky into a hug. You sidestepped and flicked your fingers subtly – the sign for your guards to step closer. The overwhelming urge to be framed between them and show the lamb you were a powerful Queen took hold. 

Amidst the show of power, Steve turned to you and grinned, offering your name. 

You met Bucky’s gaze and smiled, showing your teeth. “It’s good to meet you, Bucky, officially,” you purred, offering your hand to shake. To your utter surprise, in his silence, he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Oh, and chivalrous too–Steve, darling, he’s mine now.”

Bucky spluttered and took a step back, his hand flying to the back of his neck with a nervous smile on his lips, his focus flickering between you and the gleaming floor at his feet. “It’s good to meet you finally, too,” he said quietly. “Thank you for coming–I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh, Pup,” you cooed, and Bucky blushed furiously red. Ari snorted quietly behind you, covering it with a cough. “Of course I’m here, Steve speaks highly of your skills and mastery, and I can see why.”

The look Bucky shot Steve could have melted gold with its heat, and you chuckled. “Never mind, darling,” you said soothingly, but it only made Bucky blush even redder. Poor thing, you thought. “Come, give me a tour.” 

Without waiting for a response, you hooked your arm through his, and pulled him along, ignorant of his stumbling footsteps. The two of you did a few laps of the gallery, still arm in arm, while Ari and James trailed behind – their presence not seeming to bother Bucky in the slightest. 

“Pup,” you said slowly, staring at the side of his face. “Tell me about yourself, darling.”

Bucky blanched slightly, a small hesitant falter in his step as he navigated the crowds with ease. “I, uh- Well, I grew up in Brooklyn-”

“Oh, no, not that, Pup,” you cut in, shaking his arm slightly, and he glanced at you, eyes narrowed slightly and brow furrowed. “Tell me about your art–why do you make these masterpieces?”

A rosy blush bloomed up from under the collar of his shirt, and you filed that information away for later – a weakness for praise, interesting, you thought victoriously.

“Because I’m using my hands to create something beautiful–bringing to life something new, unique, and it makes me happy, I guess,” Bucky rambled, his hand pointing at various works. 

“I love it,” you marvelled, smiling at him – eyes glinting with the intent to consume; leave nothing in your wake. Bucky returned your smile, his gaze innocent and sweet. 

The night wound down with plenty of champagne. When it came time to leave, you smiled at Bucky and pulled him into your side, your heels giving you an advantage. Leaning close, you kissed his cheek. “Such a handsome boy,” you cooed, revelling in the way Bucky’s eyes widened and stared at his feet, but he didn’t push you away. “I will see you again soon, Pup. Keep up the beautiful work.”

“Bye,” Bucky whispered hoarsely, eyes flicking up to meet your heated stare only briefly. You made your way down the stairs, blowing a kiss to Bucky over your shoulder. 

A looming presence to your side caught your attention, and you looked over to see James stalking towards you, having sent Ari to fetch the car earlier. “You seem to have an eye for the artist,” James muttered, bringing you to the curb and standing closer to lend you his body heat in the chilly night. “It was interesting watching you make the poor boy flustered.”

“Wasn’t he sweet,” you whispered, leaning into James’ side. “I like him.”

“Ni khrena,” James retorted, and you slapped him on the shoulder. 

The car pulled up in front of you, and James opened the back door for you, ushering you in. Silence fell as Ari pulled away from the curb and into the night, the streets twisting and turning as he drove you home. 

The plush comfort of the back seat enveloped you as you leant back, reclining in thought of bright eyes and perfect, nimble hands – it was then you decided that you would pull out all the stops. 

You wanted Bucky, more than you could have realised, and dammit all, you would have him. The hunt had begun.

ponyatoy = understood ni khrena = no shit

Please support content creators and reblog our works! ❤

Graphics & Header made by yours truly.

Masterlist | Library | AO3 | Wattpad

[animeyanderelover]

Anon: How would yan chuuya, jouno, light, megumi and gojo react to a darling that just doesn't care that they're yanderes?

I already did a similar concept with Chuuya before but I added him nonetheless because I wrote this with a darling in mind that is even fine with the Yandere killing

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, isolation, murder

Tags: @maggiequinn59 @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

Darling doesn't care that they are obsessed

Yagami Light

✍️Light takes the information very well, a pleased grin on his lips when he realises that none of the things that he does seem to bother you. It’s a sign of submission from your side, something that could only ever please a man with a god complex like he has. This is how it should be after all. You should know your place and love him utterly and completely for the perfect being that he is. Light has done some terrible things in the name of his proclaimed love for you, things that he believes he has the right to do as no one is allowed to steal the person away from him that he plans to keep by his side after he has become the New God. Stealing what belongs to a deity is nothing short of a sin. A sin that has to be punished with death itself. After having confirmed that his feelings for you haven’t scared you nor have some of the actions that he has committed which you were aware of, Light starts truly testing how far your adoration and your dedication go for him. He reveals his ideologies, his mission, his identity to you as well as the future he plans to have with you all whilst you remain loving and loyal. Oh, you are indeed worthy of ruling this world alongside with him. He chose wisely.

Nakahara Chuuya

🟠Chuuya tends to let his delusional side get the better of him yet upon initial discovery that you truly don’t care about his behavior as long as he keeps on loving you and treating you well, the Executive is a tad bit concerned. Are you sure? You’re really fine with all of this? He’s in the Port Mafia, he’s killed people for you even. It’s just hard to believe that you accept all of it as gracious as you do to the point where Chuuya wonders if you’re trying to trick him. That distrust remains for a while even if you give him no reason to doubt you. Paranoia is rarely soothed by logic after all. Once Chuuya has been convinced that you truly mean it when you say that you don’t care about his obsession he gets undeniably more delusional though. If you don’t mind his obsession after all he can’t possibly be as bad as he thought he was. He starts indulging in his obsession for you more and more as you basically give him a free pass, asks of you to move in with him so that he can protect you better all whilst spoiling the living shit out of you. He doesn’t really have to hold himself back as much anymore which leads the Executive to turn his possessive behavior up quite a bit. You won’t mind after all.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️For Jouno this knowledge is a bit of a double-edged sword. On the one hand you are easier to deal with, don’t throw any tantrums which could get on his nerves and show quite a level of obedience that deeply satisfies his possessive side. The composed sound of your heart doesn’t overwhelm him but sometimes he also finds himself getting bored. Don’t forget that this Hunting Dog is still an utter sadist after all who would love to listen to the melody of your frantic heartbeat once in a while. After all it’s quite unspectacular for you to be so monotonous with your behavior and your acceptance all of the time. As much obedience and acceptance you may give him after all, it is all for naught if Saigiku doesn’t have control over you by having you fear him. Loyalty and love are not enough in his mind, not if there isn’t fear that weights you down and has you carefully thinking about every stupid decision you might make. The sadist inside of him is truly talking out of him with this desire yet Jouno never attempts to restrain his actions. Since you’ve already taken so well to everything that he’s done so far he’s sure you won’t mind learning how to be a bit scared of him~

Fushiguro Megumi

💙Megumi’s silent paranoia has led him to justify his overprotective and somewhat overbearing behavior most of the time yet there is a shred of awareness still left somewhere inside of him. It is this last shred of sanity that is the only thing letting him know that you shouldn’t think this way, that you should be scared of him. Perhaps you’re trying to trick him? Something holds Megumi back from believing you when you first admit it to him, almost accusing you of trying to fool him so that he lets his guard down. The moment you manage to convince him though that you are speaking the truth the last shard of awareness shatters and leaves him thoroughly led by his paranoid and overprotective instincts. Of course he trusts you. It’s everyone else that he doesn’t trust though. So you two better spend time alone with each other where others won’t be able to bother the two of you. When he isn’t with you, try not to leave the house. If you do, please contact him and let him know where you are, what you are doing and when you are back home again. No, he isn’t overbearing and overprotective. He only wants to ensure your safety, wants to know you’re safe.

Gojo Satoru

🩵Gojo totally eats your behavior up as soon as he knows that you really don’t mind his overbearing, clingy and paranoid attitude. This man has no restrains to begin with as he never holds his affection back but everything becomes even more gross for the people forced to watch as soon as you indirectly give him the free pass. The man is thrilled, constantly smothers you in love and presents and he quickly pushes this relationship to move in the direction he wants it to go. You quickly find yourself moving in with him as it takes him little to no time to convince you, you find yourself spending an almost overwhelming amount of time with him as he gets quickly jealous when you pay attention to others as his possessive and needy nature quickly cages you in. You’re compliant, you’re sweet and you love him for the person that he is which only pushes Gojo to cling tigthter and tighter to you. He finds comfort in you, he finds his peace when he’s with you and he only confines his pain and his feelings to you. You know him. You understand him. You love him. For those reasons he will never let you leave him nor will he ever let anyone lay a finger on you.

[sevs-corner]

Masterlist + Taglist!

Links to all my works so far:

>> CoD:

~~Tf 141: Mafia AU!

OG Idea behind the AU

Main Story Chapters:

-Chapter 1: The Rain Falls but They Fell Harder

-Chapter 1: Epilogue

-Chapter 2: Jobless? More like Job-Bless

-Chapter 2: Epilogue

-Chapter 3: Home Not-So-Sweet Home

-Chapter 3: Epilogue

-Chapter 4: Its Happy Hour for Them, Not For You

-Chapter 4: Epilogue (WIP)

Assorted One-Shots/Imagines/Short Fic Ideas:

-Small Gift Giving: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz

-Another day at the Bakery w/: Graves, Alejandro

-First Date + Gift w/: Price

-Idea: Soap/ You sing the "Masochism Tango" together!

-Random HCs of the Charas: Food + Drink Preferences!

-First Date + Gifts w/: Ghost

-Them doing the small things for You: Gaz, Ghost, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Soap, Price, Konig, Horangi

-They take you out for a picnic for being overworked: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-They watch you get drunk and sing: Price, Alejandro, Rudy

-Nursing their Hangovers: Price, Ghost, Gaz, Soap

-They notice you opening up to them: Price, Ghost, Gaz, Soap

Taglist! <3

@ astreaaaaaa6 | @ accidental-obsessionist | @ sunshineistoofuckingbright | @ sleepisfortheweakpooh

~~One-Shots/ Other AUs

-Singing a Christmas Song duet w/: Graves

-Tf 141: Actor AU!: Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Rudy, Price, Gaz, Alex, Farah, Graves

-HC's for Roach if he were in the current CoD: MW

-HC's if Roach was in CoD MW (2019~2023) Campaign

-Tf 141: Superpower/Superhuman AU!: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price, Roach, Alex

-Tf 141: Navy/ Airforce AU!: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-Tf 141 as Savy Playboy Navy boys: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-Love at First Sight w/: Price

-Tf 141: Soulmate-Reincarnation AU Idea

-cont idea + part 2 👆by: @ persephone-kore-law

-bridging thoughts on 👆

-Graves as your partner (*yaps)

-Drag Racer! Soap and his Tf 141 crew

-Tf 141 as Demi god

-Tf 141: Transformers AU (Age of Extinction)

-Tf 141 and their s/o having auditory sensory issues

-Tf 141: Soulmate-Reincarnation AU- first impressions (yaps*)

-Your Conspiracy on Tf 141's Lavender Marriage (an inspired idea to @ beloveds-embrace's Lavender Marriage AU )

-Tf 141 as Cursed Dragon Princes

Army! Tf 141 vs Navy! Reader

-Challenge 1: Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (WIP)

Tf 141 and Their Marriage Problems With You (Mini Series | Angst to Comfort)

-Price | Ghost

Tf 141: as Highschool Jock Tropes: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price [18+ MDNI !! TW: NSFW Themes | Toxicity | Unhealthy r/s] {Inspo Playlist: Currently Updating}

- How the toxic relationship would be like with them

-Promposal Edition!

> Asks:

(Jock! Price First Impressions)

(Giving Simon a Mixtape)

(Simon and You as a Goth Rocker)

(Tf 141's POV of Your and Simon relationship)

Taglist! <3

@ cod-z

CoD x (Soldier) Reader: Retired Comfy AU (Everyone lives under 1 roof + Everything is platonic and has silly plot points)

-Part 1: How did it happen?: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-Part 2: Moving into the house: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

Tf 141: Betrayal AU! (Follows the main campaign plot)

-OG Idea on the premise

-How the betrayal goes (+rant on plot of MW3)

-How the poly relationship between the four exists in MW2-3 (yaps*)

Tf 141: On the Run AU (Based off @/bluegiragi Tf 141 Monster AU) TW: 18+ | MDNI

-OG Idea on the premise

-First Meeting w/: Soap

-You realize you chose to be stuck with them

[buckets-and-trees]

Bucky Barnes Collection

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Unless specifically noted, all of my stories feature a female reader insert character.

dividers by my lovely wife @rookthornesartistry

Series & Collections

FINE LINE a near-future dark omegaverse AU DARK STORY, omegaverse dynamics, scenes of dubious consent, angst, manipulation, blackmail, kidnapping, explicit smut

↠ part one: Give Up [500] ↠ part two: Falling Away [1.5k] ↠ part three: Every Minute Of It [4k] ↠ part four: Entanglement [4.9k]

DEVOUR - complete soft!dark mob boss!Bucky AU explicit smut with feels

SERIES: ↠ salt, non/dub-con ↠ fat ↠ acid ↠ heat

MORE STORY: ↠ what happens after you go out with the girls (a few days after heat) ↠ mint (a week or two after heat) ↠ chocolate (a week after mint) ↠ yeast (tbd point after the series) custard (first winter holidays together)

CHOSEN - complete a modern AU with soft!dark, mystical, and cult elements eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha x Reader scenes, Natasha x Reader x Steve scenes, Natasha x Steve SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut (with feelings and without feelings), dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting, entrapment, natural sleeping drugs

INSTALLMENTS: ↠Arrival [3.4k] ↠Lunch [3.2k] ↠Consideration [4.4k] ↠Semantics [3.4k] ↠ Preparation [3.2k] ↠ Procession [4.2K] ↠ Offering [3.2k] ↠ Binding [2.9k] ↠ Transformation

WARM SHADOWS - complete post-endgame omegaverse series Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader, Alpha!Captain Hydra x omega!reader, eventual Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader x Alpha!Steve DARK SMUT, tw: non con, tw: dub con, fluff beginning

↠ chapter one: When You Fall On Me Like Night [2.5k] ↠ chapter two: Let All Light Go [7.5k] ↠ chapter three: Carving Through the Dark [14.4k] ↠ chapter four: The Working of Your Hands [15.5k] ↠ epilogue: The Dawn Has Come [5k]

THE BROOKLYN BOYS - complete a post-endgame where Steve stays in the present rom-com drabble series, slow burn Bucky x reader, Steve x reader, eventual Stucky x reader

SERIES: ↠ 1: Bucky and the Bench ↠ 2: Steve and the Sandwich ↠ 3: Bucky and the Books ↠ 4: Steve and the Skyline ↠ 5: Bucky and the Brief Brush ↠ INTERLUDE ↠ 6: Steve and the Ballet ↠ 7: Bucky and the Shelves ↠ 8: Steve and the Blindside ↠ 9: Bucky and the Situation ↠ 10: Steve and the Best Friend ↠ EXITLUDE

MORE STORY: ↠ First Night [takes place immediately after part 10] ↠ Idle Hands [first fall/winter] ↠ Big Red Bow [a few days after their first NYE]

LITTLE LARK a modern mafia AU with dark elements mean Mafia!Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader x mean Mafia!Steve

↠ Little Lark ↠ Bird on a Wire ↠ Bird Home in the Darkness

BUCK’S ELEVEN  a snapshot series, historical AU, Ocean’s Eleven-style heist premise mentions of ex-wife!Reader, Steve and many other Avenger cameos

↠ Buck's Eleven ↠ Bookings and Rings Steve x Pan Am Stewardess Reader [600 words, light smut] ↠ Good Luck the team [600 words]

DESPERATE TO DEVOTED a rivals to lovers post-TFATWS verse

↠ Desperate [3k] SMUT, dubious consent, sex pollen, kidnapping ↠ Uncertain and Sure [550] slight angst, feels, no smut ↠ Insatiable [1850] fluff and explicit smut ↠ Big Conversation [1.1k] little bit of fluff and sass ↠ Too Hot [700] light smut

Double-Shots

Sacrificial [3.5k] + follow up drabble: Do You Remember? Minotaur!Bucky x female!scientist!Reader modern/mythical AU, soft!dark, smut, monster fucking, tw: dub-con

Perfectionists[2.2k] + Test Play [1.8k] Game Designer!Bucky, modern AU, smut

What You Want [2.7k] + Now That I Saw You [4k] lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant!reader modern AU

Talk [2k] + Feel [2.3k] Pleasure Dom!Bucky (modern AU), smut, BDSM

Parking Lot Chem [6.7k] + Camaraderie [3.4k] modern AU, raunchy!Bucky, smut, hook up culture

IN THE OPEN AIR  Out of These Waters [7.9k] + That Shore Up Above [will be continued TBD] Gender Bend Mermaid AU

One-Shots

Into Cursed Pixie Dust [9k] morally grey Winter Soldier, smut, tw: infidelity, tw: slightly dub con

Poison Blood from the Wound of the Pricked Hand [3k] Post TFATWS!Bucky, sultry but not smutty

Silent Screams in Wildest Dreams [8k] dark, ignore Endgame/Steve stays, smut, unhappy ending

Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays [3.6k]  modern AU, smut

He Bought a Studio [4.3k] Bucky x Natasha ignore Endgame Steve stays, 5 times x 1 time, smut and fluff

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have [2k] DARK FIC, dark!Wanda + Bucky x gender neutral!Reader, non-con/dub-con smut

Parking Lot Chem [6.7k]  modern AU, raunchy!Bucky, smut, hook up culture

The Pool Party Op [1.2k] post-TFATWS Bucky, smut

Meet Cute [2.2k]  modern AU, first piece in the Trader James Collection

Saturday Night Movie Marathon [2.4k] modern au, smut

Don’t Blame Me [<1k] smut, tw: infidelity

All the Pieces Fall [3.4k] unidentified male main character x female!reader modern AU, second chance, smut

Drabbles

Bound demon!Bucky x female!reader, smut, monster fucking

Tactics [650] TFATWS era Bucky, character study

Crimson Mornings [500] Bucky Barnes x female!Reader x Ari Levinson, smut

taking care of Bucky after a mission [400] gn!Reader insert, fluff

Christmas Eve Eve[1.1k] gn!Reader insert, fluff

Coffee Shop Meet-Cute Request [1.1k] post-TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader, fluff

Imagines, Thoughts, etc.

Nose-brush forehead kisses  post-TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader, fluff

Other Sebastian Stan Characters...

Nick Fowler, God the Bounty Hunter

[gojozaiacc]

PARTING IS SUCH SWEET SORROW, Chuuya Nakahara

Chuuya Nakahara x fem!!clingy!!reader

Summary: Chuuya had been called for a long overseas mission and his girlfriend isn’t ready to let him go just yet.

tw!! MDNI, smut, swearing, sexual themes, fluff, dazai mentions, adult themes

Note: this takes place when Chuuya is 18 around the time Dazai is still with the mafia!! :)) it’s slightly rushed in the end I apologise!!

5am was the time that Chuuya was supposed to roll out of bed and start packing. Recently promoted to an executive role just a mere 8 months ago in the mafia, he had found that being in that position required him to go on a lot of overseas missions-- though he supposed being the strongest ability-wise had a hand in the matter too.

Such as today. Mori had ordered him to go overseas again for a mission of 'high importance'- this time for 2 weeks. Chuuya didn't usually mind long missions overseas but it had gotten much more difficult when he acquired himself a girlfriend. Correction; a very clingy girlfriend.

Though he loved that about her. He liked feeling wanted by her and it's not as if he isn't clingy with her too. When he wasn't working he was at home- usually clung to her when she cooked for him or when they were watching shitty movies in bed. They're just two lovesick teenagers so it wasn't like they felt suffocated by one another.

However, there are definitely times when her clinginess can be slightly distracting- like now. He had planned to get up out of bed at 5am and be well on his way to the airport for at least 7am, the problem? y/n woke up before he could get out of bed.

At first, she hadn't done anything major, she had simply clung tighter to him and grumbled sleepily when feeling his attempt to shift off of the mattress. He had sighed and said he'd stay with her for five more minutes. Those 5 minutes turned into an hour the second she had made the decision to press a kiss to his jawline.

He had sighed and threw his head back against the pillow because he knew what she doing. She was trying to tempt him to stay longer. And for around 2 minutes it didn't work before it inevitably did. At around 5:45 they were already half-naked under the sheets- her having moved to straddle his hips to bracket him against the mattress.

In fairness, Chuuya should have probably seen this coming. When he had told her about the overseas mission the night prior he had seen it all over her face. Disappointment. She had pouted and complained about not being able to see him for 2 weeks- possibly even longer if the mission required it. He had simply drawn her into his chest to embrace her- allowing her to cling to him as tightly as she usually would.

He had anticipated her to hug him tighter to her side. To cling to him so tightly that she'd leave red indents on his sides. But he hadn't anticipated her climbing onto him and kissing him so affectionately that it would physically pain him if he were to pull away from her.

Hadn't anticipated her tugging his and her pyjamas away in order to connect their bodies on a much deeper level. Practically swallowing him whole with her arms around him- soft needy gasps leaving her lips whenever he would roll his hips up lazily into her. Continuing to kiss him even after they had reached their peaks until he was forced to break the kiss, panting.

"I have-"His words get cut short as she presses another kiss to his lips. --"to go, doll."He murmured against her lips, grunting as she rolled her hips once more.

"need to- shit-" he pauses again to let out a moan when feeling her shift on his lap- her mouth pressed against his jaw. He caves once more and finds himself rolling them over so she is pressed into the mattress and he is between her legs- his mouth pressing to hers so unbelievably softly. --"pack.."He breathes into her mouth- rolling his own hips forward to draw a soft noise of affirmation from her.

"D'you have to?"She whispered gently against his lips. --"Can't Mori send someone else?"She murmured, her hands moving to his back- fingers scratching angry red lines against his skin when he would hit that spot inside her.

"H-Have to, doll."He answers, moving his lips to her collarbone as his hand reaches beneath the cover to find her thigh and hike it up to his hips in order to hit much deeper- his movements slow and delightfully intimate.

"They need me and my shitty partner to deal with something."He sighed against her lips whilst squeezing her thigh comfortingly- feeling her tense up beneath him signalling her impending second release of the morning. A whimper left her lips and she moved her hands from his back to cup his cheeks and draw their mouths together again- kissing him like he was already halfway out the door. Though it did feel like it to her.

With a soft moan of his name and hers- they came apart together, panting into each other as they rode out their highs together. Her hands moved again to his back- caressing his freckled skin affectionately.

Chuuya's chest heaves as he leans his mouth up to press his lips against her sweaty hairline- not moving from her just yet. --"Please don't go.."She mumbled weakly to him causing him to sigh in amusement. --"I'd bring ya with me if I could, dollface."He hummed softly, his hand lifting to press against her cheek causing her to immediately lean into his touch.

"I'll be back before you know it, yeah?" he says, offering her a lovesick smile- pressing another kiss to her lips, forehead and nose before finally peeling himself away from her.

A sad and dramatic sigh leaves her swollen lips as she lay on the matress, pouting. A couple of hours, a shared hot shower and some speedy packing later and Chuuya was standing at their door- shrugging on his coat as he bickered with his partner, Dazai over the phone about being late to the meetup.

y/n stood in one of his shirts and her underwear- taking a moment to bask in how close they were in height meaning his shirt fit her perfectly. She stayed close to him, her arms wrapped loosely around his side as he hissed at Dazai through the phone for a few seconds before eventually hanging up with a 'stupid fucking Mackerel' muttered under his breath.

"Shitty Dazai's always late but the one time I'm late he loses his shit."He muttered in annoyance as he shoved his phone into his pocket and drew her closer to his chest. She giggled gently at his annoyed tone.

She had met Chuuya's partner before (much to Chuuya's dismay) purely by accident and quickly discovered that she found the bandaged man rather humorous. She couldn't exactly lie- she enjoys it when Chuuya bickers with Dazai over the phone- seeing Chuuya get so worked up and annoyed at his partner never fails to amuse her.

He sighed as he hugged her close to him- the watermelon scent of her shampoo comforting him. Forcing a smile onto her face, she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck. --"Don't be surprised if your shirts reek of me when you come back."She hums, carding her fingers through his hair affectionately.

A snicker is what she gets as a response followed by a shake of his head. --"You don't reek." he chuckles, his eyes crinkling as he laughs and moves one of his hands to pinch the shoulder of the shirt she wore. --"Steal as many as you like, pretty girl."He tells her.

She hums in acknowledgement as he leans forward to capture her lips in what was supposed to be a quick kiss but lasted slightly longer than he intended (mostly because of her). However, Chuuya knew he couldn't be any later than he already was otherwise he'd never hear the end of it from his annoying partner. Thus the second he felt her trying to tug him closer he was breaking the kiss to chuckle.

"I have to go."He repeats for what feels like the millionth time to her. She frowns but nods her head with a sigh. --"Okay...one last kiss?" She asks entirely too innocently for his liking. The amused smile never leaves his lips. --"Just one more."He mutters before connecting their lips once more- staying true to his word and disconnecting from her a mere 5 seconds later.

y/n's heart sinks as she watches him grab ahold of his shoulder bag. --"Call me when you land?"She asks as he pulls open their front door. He nods in response and turns once more to grab ahold of her face- pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.

"I promise."He told her gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb briefly before taking the step outside. --"I'll see you in two weeks, love."He bids her goodbye with a heartfelt smile on his face and another kiss against her forehead.

She frowns as she leans against the doorframe, watching his figure disappear down the hall towards the elevator- she debated following after him but decided against it when remembering she was only wearing her underwear below Chuuya's shirt.

With one last wave from the redhead, he stepped into the elevator and he was gone. A sigh leaves her lips and she steps back into their shared apartment, shutting the door and immediately slumping against it with a frown on her face as she began her anxious 2 week wait for his return.

[vidavalor]

What do you think is happening in the scene when Crowley falls to the ground in pain in Tadfield?! I find your thoughts about Satan and Crowley really interesting and sorry if you've already mentioned it but I think I've gobbled up all your metas on the subject and didn't see it. Thank you 🤗

Hi there! 💕 Thanks for reading & asking. I have an assortment of Christmas cookies to share. *gets the plates* Sugar feels extra necessary for Satan-related Crowley meta...

Let's talk about that 1.06 scene you mentioned where Crowley is dragged to the ground by Satan in Tadfield, what it has to do with a motif throughout both seasons around a thing known as proskynesis, and how all of that is relevant to The Final 15 in S2.

TW: rape (mentions of the non-consensual possession-as-rape allegory).

Note: Themes of bodily autonomy and its relationship to freedom overlap between Good Omens and Terry Pratchett's Discworld and that's the main reason why some of us are still here, not giving up on this rare, A+++ survivor story, despite also wanting to hurl a certain, other person once involved with it into an active volcano. Considering the topic, I felt the need to just mention that at the start.

Sooo... let's talk about what the scene in your ask has to do with a bunch of other ones, including that scene in The Final 15...

Good Omens has a few scenes that are dealing with a thing known as proskynesis. If you're unfamiliar with this, it's a word describing rituals of reverence and worship in royal courts, as formed originally in various parts of the ancient world, like Persia, Greece, and Rome, as well as rituals involving religious worship across many different religions.

Aspects of proskynesis exist into the present in different ways in different cultures. For societies that are monarchies, proskynesis is at the root of rituals regarding how subjects in those societies address royalty. Everything from kissing the ring of high-ranking clergy in some churches to doing the same with some mafia leaders has historical ties to this. Things like bowing and curtsying customs in Victorian England can also be rooted back to proskynesis.

There are also elements of it in everyday manners and customs in societies that you wouldn't think would have any connection in the modern world to things like this. In many democracies, for instance, as in many other countries of the world, the custom of getting down on one knee to propose marriage is actually rooted in proskynesis, even if the partnership is (hopefully) more equal in today's societies.

The Japanese, who have an intricate system of bowing as part of the social expectations of their society, are a great example of how proskynesis elements have evolved to not necessarily be related to royalty or religious worship but also form the roots of manners between people throughout all classes of a society.

The rules of proskynesis in a society or a religious group varied in details a bit between cultures but has always had the same, general, wide gap between different types of actions.

As a general rule, there's a polite head bob of a bow on one end of the spectrum of proskynesis, with different bows then getting progressively lower and more intense, until we're closer to the other, more extreme end of the spectrum. That end involves kneeling at the feet of the king or in worship of a deity. The absolute, opposite end of that spectrum from that polite, head nod/bob of a bow is fully prostrating, which is lying fully on the ground, and what of this is tied to the scene in your ask, as we'll look at here.

The sketch below is a good, simple visual of what I mean:

[User: Arseni on Wikipedia]

What's interesting to note here is that when you look at the above sketch and see different movements in it that are associated with different religions, these things came to those religions by first being associated with the royal court of ancient Persia and then being adopted, in part, into Greece and Rome. What physical worshipping in a religious way looks like to this day was adopted into different religions from how humans were showing deference to other humans as royalty.

One, big debate in Christianity is actually what kind of proskynesis was given to Jesus. The word is found in The New Testament but Jesus is the perfect example of the blurred lines here between venerating a human being and treating one like a god.

There are different levels of proskynesis for religious figures, with saints and the like being ok to venerate but proskynesis involving full worship supposed to remain only for God. What kind of treatment Jesus received or should have received and what he thought about it is a matter of debate. Is he a carpenter or is he a king of kings, right? Is he human or is he supernatural... or is he both?

Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with this, too, but what they wind up doing is not technically proskynesis but it's arguably a lot better. They bear witness to Jesus' suffering and murder. They show him empathy and respect. The scene we see shows them talking about him a bit, as two people might do at any wake or funeral or the like for ages to come.

When it came to royalty, what kind of proskynesis you would perform would be dependent in different courts on your rank and your relationship to the king. You might be expected to grovel with some really low bows if you were of low rank or to have a more modest bow or to kiss the king, if you were of higher rank. The lower ranked people were expected to go lower in their bows and do more work with all of this, in order for even the chance of being recognized by the king or another high-ranked royal.

When Crowley mocks Beez, addressing them formally as Lord Beezlebub, he does a formal bow, complete with the proper foot positioning-- you can see him step into it from how his hips move. He bows almost to the waist, complete with flourishing hand gestures that are showing mock-fealty and deference to the Grand Duke of Hell by sarcastically treating them as if they were a king.

This scene which, as we'll see, is related to the one in your ask, is only one example of a couple of Crowley sassing the fuck out of someone, specifically by using proskynesis. It also adds to the chilling nature of the scene in your ask by having occurred just a matter of moments prior.

Beez lets it pass entirely because they're really only Lord Beezlebub in an attempt to project power enough to try to survive Hell. Their title is more about self-protection than it is about an expectation of deference-- which is something that Crowley also knows and is at the heart of the mockery.

Like Aziraphale, with his respectful bowing to his friend in gratitude for the sushi in 1.01, Crowley has no issue with a polite, non-religious, non-royal version of proskynesis. If worshipping the humans is wrong, Crowley and Aziraphale don't wanna be right. They don't revere individual humans as kings or gods but they do revere humanity itself as a whole in that way. They show polite respect to those sharing that with them or educating them in it.

They also do that with one another. Crowley's soft, polite nod of a bow to Aziraphale when they meet in Eden is gentlemanly. It's respectful but not in a way that isn't just treating Aziraphale as an equal. Nina gets a similar treatment when they meet in S2.

Crowley still does something similar into the modern era with Aziraphale-- note the little nod/bow when Aziraphale accepts his lunch invitation in S1.

This is all very much on the egalitarian end of proskynesis; it's in where it basically formed parts of the foundation of gestures related to having good manners in different societies. It's respect and acknowledgement between people who view and treat one another as equals, as is the case with Crowley and Aziraphale.

Their relationship is one that is built around equality, free choice, and consent. Therefore, when Crowley apologizes in S2 in another scene that is related to the one in your ask by being an intentional, totally opposite contrast to it, Aziraphale can barely contain his laughter at Crowley's mock-submissive dance. The dance, in many ways, is really a satire of proskynesis.

Crowley is doing this "yes, my king" dance for Aziraphale with tongue firmly in cheek. The dance is poking fun at the difference between general submissiveness, which Crowley loathes and likes to mock, and voluntary sexual submission with one another, which different scenes have shown us that they both periodically enjoy as some light fun from time to time.

Aziraphale is desperately trying not to laugh long enough to reply with equal humor in his dry, self-aware, soft dom voice. He can't resist smiling a bit and mimes a kiss at Crowley-- seeing Crowley's droll mocking of proskynesis-- which is etymologically linked to words related to kissing and which can involve it in different stages-- and replying by bestowing upon Crowley a kiss.

Aziraphale is intentionally doing something that isn't really the result of proskynesis when in the royal circles that Crowley is referencing with The Apology Dance. The subject is meant to seek the king's favor and would be the one, if ranked high enough to warrant such a relationship with royalty, who would kiss the king-- not the other way around. By miming a kiss at Crowley, Aziraphale is meeting Crowley's mocking of inequitable aspects of proskynesis with some mocking of his own by being miming a kiss at Crowley, who is his equal and partner.

There's also a droll joke in there where the only royal subject of a king who could reasonably have expected a kiss from the king, if maybe not always in a public setting, was the king's queen. So, Crowley's whole mocking Apology Dance has a joking, "yes, my king" vibe to it and Aziraphale's response is to show equal humor towards and affection for the person who is-- in all senses of the word-- his queen.

The end of Crowley's dance is a combination curtsy and what's known as a bow-and-scrape-- the thing from which the phrase "to bow and scrape" comes. The scrape is the movement of the foot behind a person across the floor, done to be able to go lower to the floor on the bow.

To "bow and scrape" was to basically grovel in this really overly demonstrative way for favor with the king, in the hopes that he'd be impressed by your humiliating submission enough to bestow favor upon you. The phrase now refers to doing a large amount of work or groveling to someone in a position in authority, usually with the suggested reward likely not forthcoming.

The second word in the phrase-- scrape-- also contains the word for the thing Crowley has survived at the hands of that fucking monster, Satan, who lives for the demons to bow and scrape for his favor. That's intentional on Crowley's part-- the end of this apology dance is also a visual pun on the word scrape, which contains the word rape, and this while he's doing this mocking dance that is a perfect example of how completely different and very healthy his relationship with Aziraphale is by how he is free to be this hilarious, sassy shit with his partner versus the forced subjugation by his assailant.

You might think that wordplay-- visual or otherwise-- involving the word rape is a bit dark. I won't disagree with that but I just want to briefly show you other examples of it that I've noticed so you can see what they're showing as the rationale for it between Crowley and Aziraphale. It's actually more of an empowering thing when you see other examples of it that are in other scenes.

Crowley and Aziraphale's cant vocabulary-- their invented hidden language-- uses a lot of words-within-words, just like how rape lives within scrape. If you consider that, you might also notice a couple of foods that recur in Good Omens that also are related to this. In Crowley and Aziraphale's language and in their life together, food is food but food is also figurative language for sex. Their healthy relationship and all the food and sex that is part of their life together is their answer to the traumas they've both suffered.

It's sensual, mindful living that focuses on healthier, positive experiences that help them to provide one another with a quality of life that the pain of Heaven and Hell does not. As a result, some frequently mentioned food and drink is held up between them as examples of the loving, enjoyable, pleasurable relationship with one another that they have that stands in contrast to Heaven and, especially, Hell.

Crowley enjoys wine, right? Which is made from? Grapes, as Aziraphale orders in 1601...

The opposite of the rape-related issues that Aziraphale unintentionally triggered in Crowley in 1793, for example, is what he then offers him for lunch-- both figurative and euphemistic crepes.

Not coincidentally, that's also what Aziraphale suggested the day after Crowley was assaulted by Satan on the night Armageddon began-- the crepes of Paris, 1793-- and Crowley, as we could see, was all for it:

Another covert reference to this is Aziraphale's magic trick of changing a turnip into an inkwell. It's a metaphor on a couple of different levels but one of them is that the word rape overlaps with a type of plant that is also called that and is the category name for a group of plants and vegetables, the most famous of which is the turnip.

Turnips are also a pretty clever food metaphor for rape. They have been in existence for forever and are, horrifyingly, really common, but no one-- no one lol-- has ever really wanted to eat a turnip. They're not a terribly appealing food and I would wager that if you lined up every person on the planet and asked them to name a delicious food no one-- at all-- would say the turnip.

So, adding that into the etymology of the vegetable being tied to the word rape, then turning "the common turnip" into "an inkwell"-- when sea creatures, like octopi, are often sources of ink, and 'well' meaning both healthy and a flowing source of liquid? It's Aziraphale making a magic trick that is a metaphor for him helping Crowley heal from the rape-related inorgasmia referenced subtly in a few, other scenes, and which is the subject of the Fish meta, if you're interested in that.

Anyway, the healthy, humorous, proskynesis-mocking apology dance is one of the scenes that serves as a direct contrast to the scene in your ask where Crowley is forced to the ground by Satan in Tadfield. That scene involves the other, more extreme end of proskynesis, which is number 6 on the sketch near the start of the meta: prostration.

To be clear: how people want to worship in any way, if they do, is no one's business, so long as it's not harming anyone else. There's nothing inherently wrong with any of this if it's of someone's free will. The scene in your ask, though, doesn't involve free choice, it involves forced subjugation, which is from where the horror of it comes.

Prostration involves lying flat and face down on the ground with your arms outstretched. It involves kissing the feet of the king or the ground that you believe belongs to the deity you're worshipping.

Prostration is complete submission. It's basically a rejection of any sense of self in full deference to the king or the deity.

In Hell, all the demons are seen as belonging to Satan. Several of them, like Hastur and Shax, refer to Satan as "our Master." They are all seen as Satan's subjects and his property-- all known as a collective referred to by Hastur in S1 as The Fallen, as we also looked at in relation to Aziraphale being Mr. Fell in this meta.

In Heaven and Hell's view, The Fallen do not belong to themselves but to Satan. Crowley's sense of autonomy and his relationship with Aziraphale are secrets he keeps because of how they conflict with Hell, where he's not supposed to have any other desire but to live to serve his rapist, who believes that he owns him.

All of Crowley's mocking of anything more than a polite nod when it comes to proskynesis is more than just being generally anti-royalty and anti-authority. The root cause of all of it is Satan.

In the scene in Tadfield, Satan is forcing Crowley to first kneel and, then, to prostrate, before him.

When Crowley clutches one hand to his chest and uses his other hand under him to keep himself an inch or two above ground, he's doing so in an effort to resist fully prostrating.

He's trying to keep his hands from being pulled out in front of him and to keep up enough to keep his lips from kissing the ground in forced subjugation to Satan.

This is probably the darkest scene in the show-- even darker, maybe, than 1.01's scene of Satan attacking Crowley in The Bentley-- because this is a whole new level of horror here. Crowley is shaking with the pain of fighting for enough control over himself to keep from prostrating any more than he is being forced to. This is happening with other people present-- including Aziraphale and kids, including Satan's own kid-- with the obvious humiliation factor being part of the attack.

Unlike in 1.01, when Satan took complete control of Crowley to a point that he couldn't speak, he's left him that ability in this scene, getting off on hearing Crowley protest. This scene shocks because the 1.01 scene of Satan attacking Crowley, and subsequent scenes reinforcing the non-consensual possession-as-rape allegory throughout the story, lead the viewer to believe that this is how it will always be referred to in the story. It lulls us into a sense of complacency where we think we know what the show will do, which has the desired effect of making this scene, in which they shift that tone pretty dramatically, all the more impactful and terrifying.

Furthering the allegorical here is that Crowley is outmatched, power-wise, for the most part, but is putting up a fight. He's moved by an assailant against his will, quite violently. He's dragged to his knees and then pushed forward to the ground. He's in pain and distressed, he's lost control of his body, his legs end up splayed, he pulls in on himself as much as he can, and he's repeatedly saying the word no. I think it might be pretty much impossible to make a scene full of more direct correlations to rape than this scene. They're doing so to really underline this survivor story with Crowley that is running through so many of the other scenes.

Crowley grabs his right leg when he is forced down to the tarmac, presumably because that's the side that is being forced to move by Satan to drag Crowley to his knees. It's possible, though, that this might be also be an allusion to the aftermath of 1827.

When we saw Crowley in 1862 in the scene that functions as him still trying to deal with what happened in 1827, Crowley was carrying that cane that many think was more than a fashion statement. Something that could cause Crowley periodic pain, while also still allowing for other scenes in which he pretty clearly isn't in any pain, is the possibility that, in the 1827 aftermath, Satan broke one or both of Crowley's legs.

As any of us who have ever broken a part of our human corporations know, they can often be painful long after they heal and frequently subject to weather and stress. It's possible that Crowley had recurring pain for decades and might still into today. This is all speculative but why else might this idea also fit?

Possibly just because there are so many scenes in Good Omens that are nothing but Crowley just walking freely or hopping, owning his human body by sauntering around on the legs that are often symbolic of his life as a human of Earth, as he very notably doesn't have them in snake form... and his snake form is something that he associates negatively with his fall and Hell.

Crowley's walk at any given time is related to his sense of empowerment and, sweetly, there are also a bunch of scenes of Aziraphale just gazing at Crowley as he walks around. Including, darkly, the one that was happening when Crowley was dragged to Hell in 1827:

The scene related to this that I like best, though, is when Crowley and Aziraphale both get one over on Satan and The Metatron by successfully hiding Gabriel in S2. They grin at one another as Crowley hops down from the chair, fully in his body, landing gracefully and happily on the legs that, whether once broken or not, we have seen in 1.06 ripped out from under him by Satan before.

Hell also has some Godfather-referencing, mafia-like nods in different scenes in the series and breaking someone's legs is kind of classic mob stuff but, really, I think it's more tied to the whole forced subservience snake thing. Crowley, telling Aziraphale that he'd changed his name to one we learn in S2's Job minisode is associated for Crowley with freedom, autonomy, choice, and Aziraphale...

...from one that is "a bit too squirming-at-your-feet-ish" to Crowley. It's a comment made more horrifying when 1.06's scene in Tadfield makes it clear that this isn't just a metaphor here-- Crowley's unwillingness to be Crawly and his discomfort with being a snake makes even more sense once we have this scene in Tadfield that sees Satan knock his human legs out from under him and force him into literally squirming like a snake at his feet.

No wonder why Snake!Crowley has a tendency to prefer roaring like a lion when transforming into a snake-like monster, like he did in the paintball scene...

Crowley and Aziraphale working to reframe and claim The Serpent from Crowley's negative associations with being a snake is something I talked about in the other meta I posted recently, should you also be interested in that.

The other thing of note when it comes to this scene of Satan trying to force Crowley to fully prostrate is then the fact that, while we've looked at the horror that Crowley is experiencing here, there are some other scenes that are subtly referencing positive life experiences that can be associated with this same type of position, if the situation is consensual and of someone's free choice.

They're also the exact types of things that can be complicated by having been assaulted. Lying face down are obviously both common sexual and sleep positions, for instance...

In S1, one of the scenes that got cut was supposed to be Crowley waking up from a nap in his flat. The script book says it was supposed to be that Crowley was sleeping on the ceiling in his bedroom, which also looks to be how they were filming it from the picture of it that exists. DT filmed it standing up, presumably so that they could flip the shot around and make it look like Crowley was sleeping on the ceiling. In addition to the heat-seeking snake aspect of this, there's some interesting psychology that may be at work here.

Crowley's flat in S1 was not owned by Crowley-- Hell owned it, as we can see even more in S2-- and he was not technically safe in it. Hell isn't great with boundaries and, although Crowley had structured the flat to make it so that he might have some warning if someone were to come through the front door, there was no guarantee that they would do that. Crowley sleeping on the ceiling in the bedroom in his flat might suggest that he did so, at least in part, to try to have an advantage over someone who might show up in his flat.

It might suggest that Crowley likes to sleep on his stomach but he felt too vulnerable to do that in the bed in his flat so the only way he could make that happen there was to sleep on the ceiling, where his position would potentially be a bit more advantageous. Where Crowley likely does not have that issue is in the bookshop, as he's much safer there.

In another area of life? After 1.06 showing where the proskynesis theme was leading in that season, this scene below is then retroactively given another layer:

As looked at before, Aziraphale's hand gestures here are actually massage movements. His dialogue is also full of massage-related puns-- need/knead, back, practice. Probably also not coincidentally? In addition to just being fun and relaxing, massage is also often suggested by therapists working with couples where one or more partners has been assaulted, as it can be therapeutic on a variety of levels. The scene is suggestive of Crowley being comfortable with a variety of different kinds of pleasurable prostrate positions with Aziraphale, which stands in obvious direct contrast to the horrors of Satan.

So, here's where we're going to end this by talking about some mirroring to the scene in your ask with The Final 15, especially through using etymology. The word proskynesis comes from the Greek and is a combination of pros (meaning: towards, in this case) and kyneo (meaning: kiss). Some translations of it actually wind up being less "towards the kiss" more along the lines of "to kiss in the presence of."

Yeah... There's a word in the mix in this story that means "to kiss in the presence of" and that feels pretty relevant to the last few minutes of the most recent episode we've seen, no? 😂

In the S1 finale, the season's recurring moments of proskynesis lead towards the Tadfield scene, in which we watch Crowley wind up forcibly prostrated before Satan and resisting a kiss with everything he's got. While he'd do that anyway, what's the biggest reason as to why he was in that moment? Aziraphale, right?

It's because Aziraphale is right there and this is all already more than horrible enough. Crowley does everything in his power to retain enough control to resist this kiss because he is absolutely not kissing the Earth Satan claims is his, in forced deference to him, with Aziraphale watching.

Poor Aziraphale can't do anything about this in the moment that it's happening. He can't go to Crowley without giving away that he's Crowley's partner. They've been terrified for a long time that Satan would kill Crowley if he found out about them and, based on what we've seen of how violent and dangerous Satan is, it doesn't seem like that fear is at all unfounded.

By S2, Crowley and Aziraphale are becoming a bit less of a secret but the people who they are letting in are ones they feel are trustworthy. None of them have any affiliation with Hell or Satan. The one person around them each a bit that does have affiliation with him-- Shax-- is the one they're both still attempting to fool.

The S2 mirror of the proskynesis/"kiss in the presence of" moment from 1.06 of Satan attacking Crowley in Tadfield and Crowley resisting the kiss in front of Aziraphale involves these same three characters again... but some aspects of it are-- as they would be with a mirror-- shifted around a little.

In 2.06, it's Crowley with a kiss again-- but, this time, it's Aziraphale that he's kissing. Instead of being the person who is watching the kiss be resisted, Aziraphale is the recipient of a kiss that Crowley is actually willing to give.

Aziraphale, like Crowley in 1.06, is mostly resisting the kiss. While Crowley pushed to resist it entirely in S1 for obvious reasons, Aziraphale isn't put off by the idea of kissing Crowley in general but, in S2, is resisting it as much as he's able to do so.

Why?

Because Aziraphale knows with almost complete certainty that it's Satan watching them through the window.

[nottivagos]

i also miss stalker!carlos :( maybe mafia!carlos but not as much as stalker!carlos. he has me in a chokehold.... (could he PLEASE) imagine him just being so attentive to your schedule, always appearing when things get so stressful and he just knows what to do... what if she falls asleep with her head on his lap, and it's just the most beautiful view he's had? so angelic, so perfect, and it just fuels his need to keep her his and trap her. idk I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY

ITS THAT TIME AGAIN BABY! Welcome Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Saturday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

tw: themes of stalking, mentions of kidnapping & overall very immoral and illegal behaviours.

an: oh nonnie... are you trying to kill me? I'M GOING INSANE YOU READ MY MIND. let's keep this a secret between you and me but your ask has established the prequel to the main stalker!carlos fic i'm working on <3

It’s weird how he was always there when you needed him the most.

It was as if Carlos Sainz was a ghost looming over your every move, following your every footstep two feet behind so you wouldn’t suspect anything, hidden by the distance between you both. A cold entity crawling up your skin, one that seemed to know more about yourself than even yourself knew, the fear making your blood run cold, but the underlying thrill made a rush of heat pool to your insides.

Isolation leads to helplessness, turning to the first person who shows you kindness in some way, unable to read the lines between their good morals. Drunk on the dopamine, latching onto the warm and homely high, the feeling that someone cared about you, is enough to make anyone swoon. It's typical human nature.

Carlos had seen you through most stages of life since you’d moved into the neighbourhood. The highs of when you got that promotion at work after months of hard work and trying to impress your unimpressed boss, to the lows of another failed relationship with a jerk who couldn’t even turn up to the second date, he was always there. It was eerie to think about, scary that you hadn't even thought for a moment that he was a chronic stalker, like a wolf ready for the kill, hunting for the most innocent lamb it could sink it's sharp molars into.

The sadness you felt made his insides boil with rage. How dare someone stand you up? How could anyone not appreciate a pretty little thing like you? He could’ve hit the asshole in that moment, telling him to “never talk to his girl ever again”, but instead he took you inside with open arms, silently gritting his annoyance at your situation, before hushing and cooing soft murmurs into your ear to stop the overflowing tears from shedding onto his new hoodie and ruining your makeup in the process.

If only he could have you all to himself, he thought. Only if there was some way to just scoop you up off of your feet one day, make you abandon your dreary life just so you could be with him. He’d find you a pretty little cottage somewhere, like he'd observed you saying, secluded from the horrible world you both lived, and you wouldn’t even have to lift a finger. You’d just have be his pretty little girlfriend, maybe even his wife later on, smitten and completely enamoured whilst he did all the work.

Today wasn’t any different. Carlos observed the way your shoulders were hunched as you exited your car parked in the driveway, the way your eyes looked sunken and tired, the fatigue radiating off your body as you sluggishly walked into your house. He could sense your stress from his own home, the way the knots were probably stiffening in your shoulder blades, the fact that your eyes were probably begging to cry tears from the overwhelming pressure bubbling inside of you— it was too much for you to comprehend, and he knew your ways of coping all too well.

Beautifully manicured nails hovered in front of your mouth, just begging to be bit into to alleviate the pressure of the day you’d had that you were feeling. As your teeth started to come down on your thumb, your motion was stopped by the abrupt ringing of the doorbell. Sliding off the couch with a raised eyebrow, you opened the door to Carlos, holding a small shopping bag with a friendly smile.

“I brought some bath salts and some chocolate that were lying around in my cupboards. I thought you might appreciate them a little more than I would,” he explained with that thick accent that made your insides flutter, inviting himself inside your house with ease. Your heart melted at the action, fluttering as his large hand came to press on the small of your back, his doe brown eyes soft as you made eye contact with him.

The bath was euphoric and overall a success on both parts. Carlos’s hands knead against your knotted muscles with ease, as he let you ramble on about everything that was stressing you out. It was beautiful, you felt validated for once in your life, a feeling that made you feel giddy like a little child. He was charismatic and a gentleman to you, murmuring about how you “shouldn’t have gone through that” or that “a girl like you shouldn’t feel this stressed, let alone upset”, the softness of his voice making your brain fuzzy on the dopamine.

By the time you were all cozy in your loungewear, you’d snuggled with Carlos on the sofa, basking in each other’s presence, hand idly stroking your hair whilst you nested into his lap. The TV softly hummed in the background, but you both didn’t pay much attention to it. The stillness and the tranquility of the evening made you even more drowsy than you were originally, and you could feel yourself slowly dozing off as you let your fatigue win. When you’d become unresponsive to your intimate small talk, Carlos looked down at you with curiosity, wondering why you’d gone silent all of a sudden.

“Cariño, did you fall asleep?” he asked with a soft chuckle, brushing some hair out of your face to reveal your closed eyes. Your soft breaths filled the room as Carlos relaxed on your couch, resting against the plush cushions. He let out a content sigh, doe eyes fixated on your snoozing form, softly snoring whilst curled up by his side like a sleeping animal.

Calloused fingertips continued to soothingly comb through your damp hair, as he let his mind wander. The sight below him was angelic. A beautiful sight he wanted to remember forever, too pure to even disturb in the slightest of ways. In his eyes, it fuelled his desire to keep you as his own more. The way you looked, the trust you’d put into him over the past few months, he knew soon enough he’d be able to finally put his claws into you forever and you’d not even bat an eyelid.

“Soon enough you’ll be mine, princesa,” he mumbled, brushing some hair behind your ear ever so gently. “Soon enough you’ll be safe, away from all this stress that’s tying you down. With me, forever.”

And after that, he let the boldness of his statement and overall desire linger around the four walls that were about to trap you in a hell disguised by his own designed domesticated haven.

nonnie, i just want to say thank you for actually requesting this. you're my first nonnie and i'm SO HONOURED that you requested something! the past few days have been such a rollercoaster for me with divorced mechanic!danny so thank you for appreciating my silly little thoughts, it means so much to me. - notti <3

[blehdsvvds]

RAHHHH JUST TO KET YOU KNOW I LOVE YOUR DAZAI AND CHUUYA HEADCANNONS OF THEM BEING A DAD🙏🏽❤️💕💕

Could we have headcannons of Dad!Dazai and Dad!Chuuya and their reactions if we get hurt?? 👀 NOT HURT HURT BUT LIKE WE GET KIDNAPPED BY SOMEONE AND STUFF ⁉️

MOST DEFINITELY VRO🙏‼️‼️

IM NOT SURE IF YOU WANTED IT TO BE SOUKOKU PARENTS WHEN YOU GET KIDNAPPED BUT I DID UT SEPERATLY, I CAN ALWAYS MAKE A NEW ONE FOR YOU IF YOU WOULD LIKE THOUGH^^, WARNING TO OTHER VIEWERS,

TW; THEMES OF KIDNAPPING BUT NOT DEAD DOVE KIDNAPPING

Dad!chuuya and Dad!dazai when you get kidnapped (seperate)

Dazai

- It started off with Kunikida giving dazai some work to do

- HES SO LAZY HE DIDNT WANT TO DO IT AT ALL

- lucky for him, he brought you into work today

- HE WORMS HIMSELF OVER TO YOU AND HITS YOU WITH THAT "heyy [____] can you ple-" HE GETS CUT OFF WITH YOU GROANING

- "COME ON I DIDNT EVEN ASK YO-" "your gonna ask me to run the errands kunikida gave you” BRO WIPES A TEAR AND PATS YOUR BACK

- “YOU KNOW YOUR OLD MAN TOO WELL” as he slips a list of stuff you need to get and his kunikidas credit card

- you figured you might need a break anyways so you went off to buy some stuff

- what you didnt know was the port mafia was planning to capture you as a hostage to get information out of the ADA

- after buying that whole mile long list, it was so hard to carry all the bags

- you randomly got pushed into this car that zoomed off right after

- you were so confused but you were NOT complaining, you go comfy in the seat

- “bro bless you guys, you have no idea how heavy those bags were”

- when you looked around the car, you realised that the black lizards just kidnapped you

- AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO ASK IF THEY GIVE BEVERAGES HERE

- hirotsu has MAJOR VIETNAM WAR FLASHBACKS OF DAZAI, BRO LOOKS AT YOU WITH THAT 100 YARD STARE

- when they bring you back to the pm, they inform the ada that they have you hostage, AND YOUR STILL ASKING IF THEY CAN GIVE YOU A FANTA

- As soon as they finish the words "we have [____] held captive" THE LIGHTS GO OFF

- ALL THEY CAN HEAR FROM YOU IS A "OOHOOHOOHOOO"

- ITS LIKE IN THE SHINING VRO THEY ATE ALL QUIVERING IN THEIR BOOTS

- THEY ARE ALL GETTING DRAGGED AWAY ONE BY ONE IN THE DARK

- AND YOU CAN HEAR YOUR DAD DOING THE "Henesy..... come out and playyy"

- SAFE TO SAY THE WHOLE BLACK LIZARDS NEEDED AN EMERGENCY TO THE HOSPITAL

- HE CHECKED UP ON YOI AND MADE SURE YOU WERE OKAY

- HE SPOILT YOU FOR THE NEXT THREE WEEKS, ALL YOU COULD SAY IN RESPONSE TO THAT WAS "I could get use to this"

Chuuya

- IM GONNA USE THE GUILD FOR THIS SENARIO

- YOU AND Q WERE SENT OUT ON A MISSION AND YOU KNOW THE REST, LOVECRAFT CATCHES YOU GUYS

- YOU DONT GET TORTURED THOUGH‼️

- THEY ONLY HURT Q BECAUSE THEY ONLY NEED THEIR ABILITY (POOR BABY 🙁)

- Unfortunately for you, you had to be taken care of by Mark

- I SAY UNFORTUNATELY BECAUSE BRO DOES NOTT‼️ KNOW HOW TO SPEAK JAPANESE

-SO THE ENTIRE TIME HES DOING THE "Haro?" THING FROM SCARY MOVIE 4

- you would used Google translate to communicate with the quild

- BRO THE AMMOUNT OF THINGS THAT YOU HEARD THAT MADE YOU WHIP OUT THAT SPEED FACE

- HEARING JOHN TALK ABOUT HOW HE WANTED HIS SISTET TO HAVE THE PERFECT LIFE ANDYOI JUST HAD TO

- BACK TO CHUUYA

- since chuuya is your dad, he taught you how to sneak things for your safety

- lucky for you, you had your phone on you, so you called your dad

- YOUR PHONE BROKE FROM HOW ANGRY HE WAS VRO

- SINCE YOUR IN MARKS CARE, YOU CAN SEE THIS THING FLYING FULL BLAST TOWARDS THE MOBY DICK

- ITS THAT VINE THAT GOES THE "Watch yo jet bro, BRO WATCH YOUR JET WATCH YOUR JET"

- IT WAS CHUUYA AS ARAHABAKI

- AFTER HE TOOK DOWN EVERYONE HE HEARS YOU NEXT TO HIM SAY

- "yo dad why you the 'bro thought school was for one day, HE MAD AS HELLLLL😂😂' "

- you get taken down with the rest of the guild after saying that

- AFTER YOU GET BACK TO THE PM WITH CHUUYA, CHUUYA THROWS A WHOLE GET TOGETHER (He spoild you bro)

- AND AT TGE DINNER TABLE YOUR TELLING EVERYONE WHAT HAPPEND WITH THE GUILD

- EVERYONE IS IN SUITS, CHAMPAGNE IN HAND, THAT RICH LAUGH AND YOU SAY SM LIKE

- "AND I WAS LIKE, 'ZOINKS LOVECRAFT, I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE CTHULHU'

- *que the entire port mafia having that rich laugh*

A/N: FINALLY DONE VRO🙏, THIS WAS ALLATA FUN DOING, SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES, IM GOING INTO SCHOOL HOLIDAYS SO ILL BE MORE ACTIVE CHAT😈🙏🙏

[saint-ajax]

༒︎︎︎︎ OCT. 04 | MIGUEL O’HARA

༒︎︎︎︎ KINKTOBER

TW: 18+ | SOMNOPHILIA | TIE KINK | INAPPROPRIATE USE OF SPIDER WEBBING | JEALOUSY | POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR |POSSESSION SEX | MISOGYNY THEMES | MAFIA THEMES | ALTERNATE UNIVERSE | CHEATING IMPLIED | FORCED MARRIAGE | ORAL SEX | VAGINAL FINGERING | P IN V SEX | NOT PULLING OUT | SEMI-PUBLIC SEX | OUT OF CHARACTER

    Your story goes predictable. A hot headed mafia boss kidnaps a beautiful woman who can't escape him. As time passes you become his sex slave, the apple of his eye, the queen of the empire he built, the woman he is willing to burn the world for. 

    As much as you may try to deny it, you fell for the man who stole your freedom.

    But it just so happens that this particular mafia is an Irish-Latino, spider-bitten, with a vampire dentistry, topping it off with a muscular big build. Also, a caring, sweetest person as much as an aggressive man. That's the Miguel O'Hara you love. The man you know, worshiped, hated, and was forced to marry.

    You hate yourself as much as you hate him for taking your dreams away. You despise how much you love him. Unable to be repulsed by a dangerous, dangerous, man. 

    Yet, not always. You still get mad at him. A lot of times. But that's just your dynamic. You're mad at him so he eats you out, and you're all lovey-dovey again. Although, not this time around.

   You planned to surprise him at work today, bringing his favorite meal that you took the time to cook for, in spite of being a clueless damsel in the kitchen. 

   Only for you to find a woman with her tight skimpy skirt lifted up to her hips, exposing more than enough skin of her thighs to anger you. She was in the move to sit on Miguel's thighs. While he, the man in the sharp black suit comfortably sitting on his office chair, was only letting the woman do as she pleases.

   You've spent enough time in this office alone to memorize where the hidden guns were. A black leathered chair beside you has one on it. Since they didn't hear or feel your presence, you snatched it without hesitation. 

   They didn't even give a damn at the sound of the gun clocking. It was the perfect timing, she was sitting on his lap, leaning in to reach his face. And just as their faces close? You shot the space in between them. The window received the bullet you released, sticking to the first layer, an effective bulletproof window.

   The woman screamed. She covered her ears as she was startled. While Miguel didn't even blink. The moment you stepped inside the building, his spider sense tingled in the presence of his woman.

   “Oh my gosh! What was that?!”

   She looked around until she found you with your hands in air, index flat on the side of the trigger, eyes drained of emotion.

   “Gosh, woman! You could've shot me! Miguel, do something!”

   “Who… are you?” you mutter, eyes squinting at the oblivious woman.

   She was frustrated that Miguel was just watching the scene while she stood properly, fixed her clothes, mad and confused at your presence, identity, and actions.

   “Who are you? ”

   She threw back the question as if you're the one who needs to be known.

   “I’m his wife. And, you? What's your name putita?”

   Miguel couldn't help but smirk at the insult you threw, proud of your Spanish. 

   “What did you just call me?!” she asks in a totally offended tone with her hand on her chest.

   “Little whore.” You clarify. She gasps dramatically before marching towards you.

    “How dare you!” She yells before cocking her hand in position to slap you.

    “You touch her and you're dead.”

   Miguel's threat interrupted her. She looks at him as if she couldn't believe him while you just stare at her with one brow lifted.

   “You’ve spent enough time in my company. You’re fired.”

    “What?! You’re siding with her?!”

    You and Miguel frowned confusedly at her.

   “Did you not hear her? Ella es mi esposa, puta.”

    “You got a lot of nerve,” you state it to her. 

    She looks at you and back at Miguel before frustratingly leaving the room. “Ugh!”

    You walk towards his table, to drop the bag. “What the fuck was that?”

   You confront him. “You’re a cheater now?”

    “No. She's a flirt, so I let you handle her.”

   You nod simply, dropping the gun on his table. “I could've killed her.”

   “But you didn't.”

   “No, I didn't…” you agree. You walk over to his side while he swivels the chair to face you. You reach the spot of the window where your bullet stuck. You pull it to study it around your fingers.

    He reaches for your waist, but you catch his hand, opening his palm to place the bullet. “You have to understand the weight of this, Miguel.” He raised a brow at you, asking what you meant.

    “De qué estás hablando, mi esposa?”

   “I didn't kill her. But I would have.”

   “I do not see the problem.”

   “I'm not as innocent as you first took me.”

    He glares at you for the word you used. You smirk inside your head, knowing the guilt it brought him. “You’ve made me crazier. I’ve adapted to your dangerous life. You have to be careful with your actions. Or else who knows what I could've done to her?”

   “I’d prefer if you killed her.” You glare at him. 

    “That's not very nice.”

    “I'm not very nice.”

   “I won't be very nice to you too if I catch another woman latching on to you. Understood?”

    “Si, mami.”

    You lean into his face, caressing on his cheeks, tracing his strong jaw with your thumb. You let your hands roam down his abdomen to his crotch, after your speech, you made him hard. You smile at him, and act as if about to kiss him, when he opens his mouth to receive your lips, you mutter:

    “Don't get too cocky, I'm still mad at you.”

   He opens his eyes, to see your sharp glare.

𖤐

 

    “Where’s mi princesa?!” He barges in his own mansion, fuming in anger at everyone who crosses his path.

   “S- señor Miguel, señora O’Hara is in the masters bedroom.” Frightened maids bow at him as he marches past them in rage.

  He barges in your room only to find you sleeping soundly in the bed you both share.

    He eyes you down while he loosen his tie. He stands in front of the footboard as he takes off his suit jacket. His white long sleeves could barely seal his brawny chest and ripped muscles.

   He flings off the comforter keeping you warm as it reveals you in your cotton shirt and shorts that covers almost nothing. 

    He crawls down the bed as his big, rough, palm creeps up your legs. Until his hand lands on the band of your shorts, he effortlessly rips it off along with the thong, pieces of fabric landing across the floor. The icy atmosphere makes you squirm, while he forcibly opens your legs wide open. He dips his nose down to your core, inhaling your addictive scent.

    From there, he devours you like a starved man. Licking your insides like he owns you. As if you're his last meal. He holds down your squirming legs to fuck your pussy with his violent tongue. Shamelessly latching on your clit, dragging his tongue slowly and deeply from your gooey walls up to your silky clit. 

    He flicks his tongue rapidly, he hardens it and to shove it inside you and lap your sopping walls drenched in your divine juices.

   He kept slurping you. Munch your pussy repeatedly which makes you whimper. Bringing you to consciousness as he ate you like he's starved. 

    His intensive feasting doesn't falter. He adds his thick fingers, enough to make your tight pussy feel full. As he curls his fingers inside your slit, he pumps them in and out. This causes you to push his face deeper, legs shaking, and trapping his head in between you.

   Your mouth falls open as your back arch, feeling the sting of the few pricks of ecstasy.

    Your legs shake as he helps you climb your high. Chewing on your clit, molesting your hole with his skilled tongue and fingers. As your walls clench around him, you shudder and moan at the climax he delivers you. 

   Pleasure spreading through your veins as he keeps on worshiping your drench cunt.

   Your chest rises and falls as you calm down from the high while he laps you, cleaning your glistening pussy from your creamy sap.

    While he gets up, lips, chin and jaw dripping from your cunt.

   He pulls his zipper down, pulling out his heavy, full of load balls, stiff cock. Before the base of his dick touches your swollen clit, you grab him. You sit up and glare up at him.

    “You do not get to touch me, Miguel.” 

    He glares back at you, eyes narrowing at your behavior. “You don't tell me what to do. I touch what's mine.”

   “This pussy isn't yours, is it?”

    “Yes, it is.”

   “Unless it's attached to you, it's not yours. Get the hell out of my way.”

    He narrows his eyes at you and the act you're pulling.

    “Ahh… my hypocrite queen, cumming first before protesting from being fucked.”

   “You've taught me well.”

   You smirk at him before leaving the bed. As you open the door, just as you step outside, he has you pinned on the walls of the hallway. 

   “Stop being such a fucking tease, Mrs. O’Hara.”

   He growls at you. You roll your eyes as you moan in disgust. “God, I fucking hate that title.” 

   “You're getting on my fucking nerves, woman.”

   He shoots his web to bind your wrists, you gasp audibly. “Get this filthy thing off me!”

   He smirks and scoffs at your words. “You really testing me, huh?” He shoots another web on the ceiling and ties your bound wrists on it. He made you hang like a punching bag.

   “Put me down!” Soon he shoots another web to shut your mouth. Then he rips your thin shirt apart. Now bare naked hanging off the ceiling.

    “Now you look perfect.”

    He pulls down your hips, smacking your plump ass on the back before spreading them apart. He shoves in his long, thick, cock. You moan inaudibly now as he push in your slit. Stretching your delicate walls, reaching your gooey cervix as he pull down your waist. As if you're his own life-size fleshlight.

    While his dick drag a pleasurable sensation in you, it was still an uncomfortable position to be fucked in the air. While his strong, tall, build gives him the access to suck on your tits while pumping his cock with your pussy.

   His paces starts to get rocky. He tightens his grip on your waist as your cunt meets his thrusts. “Fucking delicious.” He groans each time your wet pussy engulfed his beefy cock.

    He smacks your ass, spanking them equally hard. He grips on your red cheeks marked with his palm, grabbing onto them to slam his tight balls deeper and harder into your core.

    You couldn't do anything but take his rough pounding. While you moan inaudibly, crying, whimpering, and shaking as he ram into you.

    He rests his face in-between your bouncing breasts, focusing his mouth on sucking on your hard nipples as he moan from the euphoric warmth your cunt delivers.

    “Your perfect cunt will be fucking full of my cum, esposa.”

    He mutters as he both of your mounds.

    “Fuck this pussy. I own this.”

    There's nothing stronger than the sense of ownership washing over him everytime he sees you, he fucks you, or kiss you. “Mrs. O’Hara’s all mine.”

    He buries his dick deep in your, reaching into your womb to finally shoot his another kind of warm web. While your legs shake, tears falling from the mix of pain, discomfort, and insane orgasm.

    He fills you up of his creamy load before continuing to thrust in and out, savoring the bliss of fucking your tight cunt. Then he traps the proof of sin inside you. Before he pulls out and kneels to watch your pussy drip the mix of your cum and his.

   He smiles at his masterpiece, dipping a finger to see the consistency of your mixed syrup.

   “Buckle up, brat. I'm gonna fuck you dumb. You hear me, mi hermosa putita?”

    You nod helplessly as you hang with your wrists above your head, tears falling down your flustered cheeks.

[paroslineage]

THINGS I THINK THE :

MAFIA!TOKYO REVENGERS BOYS WILL DO FOR YOU.

TW : Gore, Description of Torture, Killing, and Reader death, female reader, Mafia themes, gun violence, shooting, blood.

All boys are aged up don't come at me.

All characters except reader belong to Ken Wakui i do not own them.

Don't steal my idea or I'll hunt you down :D.

Masterlist.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Context:

Y/N L/N the wife of the most dangerous Mafioso in the of Tokyo having an undettering face of cold ruthlessness and having a uninterested facade is only sweet for his lovely darling YOU.

But...

What happens if the mafia organizations having grudge on your husband go after the unsuspecting sweet little bunny of the dangerous mob boss.

YOU.

Scenario:

"My sweet darling! I'm home and I brought your favorite choco chip pastry from the bakery!"

"Why is it dark honey?" He chuckles

He turns on the light and what he sees makes his blood run horribly cold.

The entire mansion was ransacked.

The table broken, cabinets upturned and His darling's favourite flower vase shattered.

He drops the box and runs frantically up the stairs pulling out his gun for the the holster to the both of your shared grand bedroom.

He breaks down the door and what he sees makes him turn unhinged.

His darling... Laying on the center of the bed fully bled out.

Five holes on the chest, three in the temple and four in the stomach and two in your abdomen.

But your eyes were stuck open, the life in them drained a long time ago.

He walks over to you, eerily silent kneels on the bed his eyes trembling and hands fiercely cradling you to his chest and he buried your cold little face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm so sorry for being late my dove, forgive this asshole."

"I'll take revenge for you my dove just you see."

"I'll murder those son of bitches and feed their bones to the wolves I swear on your life darling."

He kisses your forehead looking into the empty void of your eyes and closes them by his hand his tears running down his anguished face.

His eyes frantically and disturbingly wide not even once blinking looking into your dead ones...

As he caressed your hair on tenderly kissing you on the forehead right where the bullet mark was present...

God did his heart hurt.

His lips trembled as he spoke but not the words..

They were spoken loudly and fully finalized...

TOKYO REVENGERS BOYS WHO :

♡ Would be the one to hunt down your murderer

And brutally and ferally slaughter that bastard

That includes.

Gouging their eyeballs, Their brains from their noses, waterboarding them till their last seconds of consciousness, Skinning them alive, flaying them, dipping them in acid.

And lastly shooting them exactly the number of times and the precise location that monster shot you.

Which totals to 14 times.

And then fed them to the wolves of and burning the bones.

"Revenge taken my little dove... Just as I promised."

He whispered quietly to no one as he smoked a cigarette and looked up at the night sky full of stars shining brightly than usual.

With tears dripping endlessly down his emotionless visage.

"I see you looking after and smiling at me darling keep doing that."

He exhaled his smoke through his nose smiling painfully.

"Because soon I'll be joining you up there my love..."

Characters : HANMA , KISAKI , Izana, Kakucho, Ran, KAZUTORA, Rindou, Mikey, Draken, Baji, Mitsuya, SANZU SANZU SANZU.

[fangdokja]

Could you do a headcanon of the russian mafia boss husband series where y/n isn't a spy and wasn't seeing anyone and it was just a case of mistaken identity but y/n is so broken beyond repair that she doesn't speak, sleep, eat, bath or do anything but stare at the wall muttering 'stop or no more or it wasn't me' until she passes out. And when he tries to touch her in the slightest, she just trashes around screaming and having episodes until she passes out. Y/n has utterly and completely lost her mind. Destructive and emotional breakdowns, anxiety attacks and high suicidal tendencies and behaviour. It could be an alternate ending where y/n is innocent. Maybe a "What if series." God bless you 🙏

🔞"I don't need your love, I need your submission."

❤︎ Synopsis. A woman trapped in the web of a sadistic mafia boss’s obsession must fight to keep her mind intact, but with every twisted act of cruelty, she finds herself unraveling further—until escape becomes impossible and submission the only way out.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanon. The Bride of Blood - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 3,953

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mental illnesses and self-harm, panic attacks, suicide, angst + tragedy, mature language, death, necrophilia, descriptions of gore, desecration of corpses, erotic horror elements, isolation, BDSM, degradation, humiliation, blood play

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were changed to fit the platform. Specifically, it was purposefully made ambiguous. This is NOT canon, it's a "what-if" or canon-divergent to the main story.

♡ His Story. 🔞"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."

♡ A/N #1. Also, this would explain the results of Reader being weak (and innocent) in general. A lot of people said they want Reader to just tell the Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss everything. Even though, she's canonically loyal to her duties and job as a spy. It isn't pride, it's loyalty and will. So, basically, what if she didn't have a strong will?

♡ A/N #2. God bless too. Now, normally, I do not work on canon-divergent works. Genuinely the spy reader is canonically highly trained, extremely loyal to the job and duties, and does not love nor surrender to the Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss. BUT. I allowed this canon-divergent request (a “what-if headcanon”) because the trauma writing style and overall themes fit my writing style. But. Usually, I will NOT be writing canon-divergent content. Because I HATE matters that aren’t true. This honestly feels like I’m writing actual fanfiction for my work. So weird. Hahahah. But, anyways. I write genuinely canon stories or accurate representations, as close as possible. I don’t like deluding myself in matters like this. In general, I only allowed this because the prompt fits my writing style. But, I would normally not be writing non-canon works.

♡ A/N #3. Also, let me in on you readers on a warning or notice about me. Content that skirts by when it normally wouldn’t? Hahahaha. There’s a pattern in what I do with content like this. It’s the kind that I would classify as “more ruthless”. As an author (not reader nor fellow stranger), if it doesn’t follow the traditional rules? Well. It can only end in two ways. No in-between. It may not be as gory even compared to my other works. But. One very important thing is always sacrificed in exchange for skirting the rules OR having consensual encounters of any kind. This isn’t to be mean or anything. I’ve written like this before, as it’s my rules to myself (I write a lot of grimdark and dystopian stories where no one is safe); but have not yet released anything like this in my blog. So, take this as an introduction on why my yandere type isn’t appealing to most. Or maybe just treat this as a quirky story about why the rules are really rigid in requests, haha. Actually, I can write anything (except stupid reader inserts). The only reason I put rules about not writing certain things is because readers may have expectations on certain themes. And I don’t want to give false hope or anything. Either way, hope you guys enjoy :))

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who watches the cracks in your fragile composure widen with each passing day, his heart sinking deeper into the abyss with every muffled murmur that escapes your broken lips.

Your silence is a desecration to him—a profound betrayal that stabs at his chest. His eyes, always sharp and calculating, now scan you as if searching for any trace of the woman you once were. But all he sees is a hollow shell, your vacant gaze fixed on nothing—just the cold, unforgiving wall.

"Lyubov moya…" he breathes, his voice trembling with a blend of grief and anger, the words sour on his tongue. He steps closer, but you don't acknowledge him. You never do anymore. He can feel the bitterness rising in his throat as he reaches for you, his hand trembling as it brushes your shoulder. You flinch—just barely. But it’s enough.

Your skin feels like ice under his fingertips. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he whispers hoarsely, more to himself than to you, though he knows you won’t respond. Your body is a brittle thing now, once strong, once so perfect. But now? Now, it is but a corpse wrapped in skin, breathing only to mock him.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who spends every waking hour by your side, watching you disintegrate, your body no longer responding to the world around you, not even to the warmth of his presence.

You don’t eat. You don’t drink. You don’t bathe. You don’t move. You stare. You stare at the same spot on the wall, eyes wide and unblinking, lips cracked and dry. A low, rhythmic muttering slips from your throat like a mantra—words too broken to form into coherent sentences, but words he knows too well now.

"Stop… No more… It wasn’t me…"

His heart lurches, a twinge of nausea curling in his gut as he listens to you—the girl he once saw as his perfect wife—now reduced to a shell of broken words and crumbling sanity. His chest tightens painfully, but even through his sorrow, there’s a sick, twisted thrill that curls in his gut. He can’t help it. This is what he’s wanted, isn’t it? He wanted to break you, to see you collapse into him, to lose yourself completely.

“Don’t leave me like this,” he whispers, his voice thick with desperation. His fingers slide through your hair, brushing it back from your pale face. “I will make it right, I swear. I’ll fix you. I’ll fix us.”

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who watches you convulse violently when his fingers brush too close, a scream tearing from your throat as you fight against him like a trapped animal.

It’s almost a relief, the violence of your reaction—it lets him know you're still there, beneath the layers of disassociation. You twist and thrash, your body frantic with the need to escape him. Your hands claw at his, nails tearing at his skin as you scream into the suffocating silence.

“Stop!” you gasp, your voice jagged and broken. “I’m not like that. Please… I’m not like that…”

You don’t remember what you’re begging for. You don’t remember anything anymore. He, on the other hand, feels every inch of your struggle, the rush of adrenaline shooting through him as he pins you down, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and longing.

He feels your pulse flutter beneath his fingertips like a bird trapped in a cage. It’s not enough. Not yet. He can't go further just yet.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who, in the dead of night, watches you from the doorway, his eyes tracing the rise and fall of your chest, the broken rhythm of your breathing.

His heart is a thunderous roar in his ears as he watches you twitch in your sleep, jerking as though you’re trapped in a nightmare. But he knows—he knows this isn’t sleep. You’re not dreaming. You’re unraveling.

With slow, deliberate steps, he moves toward the cot, the sound of his boots striking the floor a distant echo in the silence. You’re trembling now, the sweat slicking your skin as your body shudders in the absence of warmth, in the absence of love.

“Why won’t you just rest, malyshka?” he murmurs, his voice heavy with sorrow. He bends down, hovering over you, but you don’t stir. It’s almost as if you’re already dead.

His fingers brush against your cheek, and for a moment, he’s caught off guard by how cold you’ve become, how still. His heart stutters in his chest. “Don’t leave me. Please… not like this,” he says, the words choking him, the rawness of his voice foreign and weak in the dim light of the room.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who finds you clutching something sharp, the glint of metal in your hand reflecting a cruel, twisted sort of hope in his eyes.

Your eyes lock with his—there’s no fear in them, only a hollow emptiness. Your hands tremble, the jagged edge of the shard pressing too dangerously close to your skin. He watches in silence, his breath caught in his throat, until the moment drags on for what feels like eternity. And then, without warning, you collapse—exhausted, drained, lifeless, like a doll discarded and forgotten.

His heart hammers in his chest as he rushes forward, grabbing your wrist with brutal force, pulling the shard away from your grip. He lifts you from the ground, holding you close against him as he whispers words you don’t hear, words that make his voice tremble. “You can’t leave me. Not like this. Not now…”

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who holds you long into the night, feeling the weight of your hollow body in his arms, knowing you’ve drifted too far.

Your head lolls against his chest, but your eyes remain open, unblinking. A slight tremor passes through you, the only indication that you’re still here at all. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his heart hammering in his chest.

But as he watches you, an awful realization settles in—the silence between you both is now louder than anything he’s ever known.

He is losing you.

He doesn’t know how to fix it. And he’s not sure he ever could.

But even then, he clings to you.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who, in the quiet of the early hours, hears the faintest sound—a soft, strangled gasp from your lips, the first sound you’ve made in days.

His heart stops, a cold dread washing over him as he moves toward you with a sense of urgency he can’t explain. He finds you standing there, trembling, your gaze unfocused, your face pale and drawn. The dim light casts shadows over your features, making you look even more like a ghost.

His breath hitches as he stands before you, eyes wide, panic rising in his chest. “What are you doing?” he asks hoarsely, the words raw, desperate. But you don’t answer. You can’t. Instead, your gaze flickers to the sharp edge of something in your hand—something cold, reflecting the light of the room like a cruel promise.

He moves to stop you, but there’s a hesitation in his step. Something about the way you hold it, the way your body is almost fragile in its stillness, makes him falter. You don’t meet his eyes. You don’t even seem to notice him there at all.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who, as you stand there with that cold, metallic gleam in your hand, hears the trembling of your breath, the fractured sobs that break through your silent composure.

His stomach churns as the silence stretches on, his own heartbeat ringing painfully in his ears. You look so small, so broken—your body a mere reflection of your shattered mind. There’s nothing left of the woman he once knew, only the faintest whisper of who you used to be.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “Please don’t do this. I can fix this. I can make it better. I swear to you…”

But your fingers don’t twitch. Your expression doesn’t change. You stand there, distant, unreachable, a thousand miles away from him. And with each passing second, it feels like the world is slipping from his grasp.

———

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who finally reveals his true nature: the laughter spills from his mouth in a manic, almost feral sound, cruel and unrestrained.

His arms shoot out, grabbing you in an instant, pulling your cold, frail body against his with a force that knocks the breath out of you. His grip is like iron, tightening until you feel the sharp sting of pain, but you can’t even summon the energy to scream.

“You thought I was weak, huh?” His voice is a low growl, a venomous whisper in your ear. “You thought I cared about you. That I was some sentimental fool who would bend over backwards for you, huh?” His lips curl in a sickening smile as he squeezes your body tighter, feeling your fragile form quake beneath him.

He laughs again, a sound that rattles through the room, like a nightmare that refuses to end. It’s so genuine, so completely deranged. His hands run down your back, gripping, squeezing as if he’s savoring every second of your discomfort.

"Damn, you're so fucking stupid," he sneers, his voice oozing contempt. "Did you really think you were smart enough to outmaneuver me? Did you think for one second that you could escape? You were never gonna win."

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who revels in the terror he’s now fully unleashed on you, a sadistic delight lighting his eyes.

“You know what the worst part is?” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, his tone thick with satisfaction. “You thought I was trying to save you. You thought I was here to comfort you when you broke. But no. No, my sweet, that was never the plan. You’ve been my puppet this entire time."

He pulls your face toward his, forcing you to meet his gaze, your eyes wide, panicked. The pathetic vulnerability you’re showing now is his fuel. His heart races, the cruel satisfaction of seeing you broken filling his every pore. This is where you’re beautiful. This is where you belong—on your knees, broken, and begging him not to destroy you, though you no longer have the energy to do even that.

“You think I’m going to cry for you? Think I’m going to beg you to stay?” He laughs darkly again, his fingers tightening around your throat, making it harder to breathe. “No, darling. I’m not the fool here. You’re the fucking idiot who fell for all of this. Damn imbecile.”

You gasp, but it’s weak, fragile, almost meaningless. Every time you try to speak, your throat constricts as he applies more pressure. The world around you feels like it’s slipping away.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who takes perverse pleasure in watching you fall further into the abyss.

His hand comes down sharply, gripping your face in a brutal vice. “Look at you,” he mocks, his voice low and cruel. “I always knew you were weak. I already knew you were never a spy. You’re nothing but a little broken thing, begging for release, begging to be loved, but you’ll never have it. Not from me. Not from anyone.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The weight of it all has crushed the last bit of your spirit. You don’t fight anymore. You don’t scream. You don’t cry. You just… exist. Barely.

He leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Did you really think you were going to be my salvation?” His voice is dangerously quiet, thick with venom. “I’m not here to save you, lyubov moya. I’m here to destroy you. Slowly. Piece by piece. Until there’s nothing left but what I want. And now, you’re so fucking close.”

He pauses, waiting for you to react, but you remain still. His eyes darken with satisfaction. He lowers his lips to your neck, tracing the outline of your skin with the tip of his tongue, feeling your heartbeat accelerate, though it’s weak, frail.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who grins, a predator finally taking his prey, the last shred of your will completely annihilated.

And then, just as you finally surrender to the overwhelming urge to let go, to end it all, he’s watching. He’s watching with eyes that gleam with satisfaction. His fingers caress the sharp edge of the knife he’s placed beside you—he knew you’d reach for it.

“You never were smart enough,” he murmurs, his voice a twisted lullaby. “You let your emotions control you. That’s where you lost. That’s where you’ve always lost.”

He laughs softly, the sound like gravel scraping against bone. His lips brush against your ear once more, a soft whisper of finality that seals your fate.

"You think this is it, don’t you? You think you’ve made your final choice? No, darling. You lost the moment you gave in to me. And now, even in death… you’ll still belong to me."

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who watches, the gleam in his eyes reflecting a dark satisfaction as he finally fulfills the twisted, broken end to the game he’s orchestrated.

And as you take that final step into the abyss, he watches with a dark smile, his body trembling with the thrill of victory. His laughter echoes in your ears as you fade, and he whispers his final, chilling words.

"You’re so fucking stupid. But at least now, I can call you mine forever."

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who isn't finished, not even a bit. He kisses you, a bruising pressure that feels more like a punishment than a caress, his tongue forcing its way into your unresponsive mouth. "You always did look good enough to eat," he says with a snicker, his breath reeking of whiskey and malice.

He crawls onto the bed, straddling your hips, his cock erect and demanding. "Look how much you're turning me on, even like this," he says, his voice a mix of amazement and disgust.

"You were always so eager to please, weren't you?" He doesn't wait for an answer—there isn't one to give. He aligns himself with your cold, unyielding opening, and with one brutal thrust, he's inside you, the sensation of your lifeless body being violated a twisted form of pleasure for him.

The bed groans under the weight of his movements, the sound a mournful echo in the silent room. His hips piston into you, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he takes what he believes to be his right. "You're so fucking tight, even in death," he growls, his voice a guttural sound that fills the room.

He leans down, his teeth grazing your ear. "Do you feel that, my love? Do you feel how much I own you?" You don't, of course. You can't. But he's lost in his own madness; his mind so triumphant at finally conquering you, as he fucks you, the corpse of the woman, he once claimed to adore.

With a final, savage thrust, he spills his seed inside you, his body shuddering with the intensity of his release. His orgasm is a declaration of victory, a claiming of what he believes is rightfully his, even in your most vulnerable, unresponsive state. He pulls out, his cock glistening with the proof of his dominance, and for a moment, he simply stares at the mess he's made, the dark liquid pooling around your lifeless body.

A twisted sense of pride fills him, his chest puffing out as he takes in the sight. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches the last traces of your humanity seep away with his cum.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss who desecrates your body like it's art. With a sick, twisted smile, he positions you again, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic hunger that not even death can quench.

He slices through your flesh with the knife you once held, the cold steel parting your skin with ease. You're a macabre doll to him now, a silent plaything for his darkest desires. He watches, fascinated, as the crimson rivers of your life's essence mingle with his semen, painting the bed in a grotesque tapestry of depravity. The pain, the violation, it's all a part of his twisted love, his ultimate claim over your being.

"Look at you," he whispers, his voice a chilling purr. "So obedient, even in death. You always knew your place, didn't you?" He delves into your open wounds with his fingers, the sensation of your cold, lifeless flesh against his own sending a thrill through him. He licks the blood from his fingers, savoring the taste of his power. "You were always mine to do with as I please."

His eyes are wild with the thrill of his depravity as he plunges into you again, his movements now frenzied, like a beast in the throes of a bloodlust. Each thrust feels like a declaration of ownership, a reminder that you were never more than a possession to him. He leans down, whispering sweet nothings that are now nothing but the echoes of his madness. "You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice a sick parody of affection.

"Such a perfect little toy." His teeth sink into your neck, tearing through the already marred flesh, his eyes rolling back with the intensity of his twisted pleasure.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss whose eyes are wild with a sickening blend of rage and lust as he continues to desecrate your corpse. He grabs fistfuls of your hair, pulling your head back as he drives into you with a ferocity that would be terrifying if you could feel it.

Your lifeless eyes stare up at the ceiling, unseeing, as he whispers his twisted love into your ear. Each punch lands with a sickening thud, the sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh filling the air. He's lost in his own madness, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he takes out his frustrations on the shell of the person he once claimed to love.

"You were always so emotionless, so stubborn, so defiant," he snarls, his fists raining down on your body, each impact leaving a bruise that will never fade.

"But now, now you're just… perfect." He says the word with a disgusting sense of satisfaction, as if your death has somehow made you more desirable to him.

He slices through your flesh, peeling back layers of your body like a grotesque fruit, his knife moving with the precision of a skilled butcher. The smell of blood and sex is thick in the air, a macabre scent that clings to every surface.

♡ Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss withdraws from the destroyed mess of your body, his eyes glittering with a sick triumph. He stands over you, his chest heaving with exertion, his cock still erect and smeared with the blood and gore of his violent ravishment.

With a grunt of satisfaction, he lets his seed spurt out, painting the floor with a grim pattern that mirrors the chaos of your shattered life. He watches the thick ropes of cum land on the cold, hard floor, a dark stain that mingles with the pools of your lifeblood.

His gaze lingers on your corpse, his expression one of possessive hunger. He's not done with you, not yet.

"Look what you've become," he sneers, his voice a low rumble of disgust and arousal. "A mere pile of meat for me to fuck and discard."

He grabs your lifeless hand, raising it to his mouth, and kisses your cold knuckles with a twisted affection. "But even like this, you're still mine. Always and forever."

He releases your hand, letting it drop with a thud, the sound echoing through the silent room like a declaration of war on your soul.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth

[animeyanderelover]

I already did this concept with Dazai in those Hc's so I will not add him in here again.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, blackmailing, bribing, paranoia, attempted murder in Nikolai's part, isolation, abduction, death of reader in their previous world

Tags: @shumidehiro @izanami78 @leveyani

Isekai'd into their world

Nakahara Cuuya

🟠Bullshit! That’s the initial reaction that Chuuya has when he finds out. There’s a limit to how much he is willing to believe even though throughout his life he has seen some things you’d have to witness with your own eyes to believe in them. It is true that there is nothing about your past he has been able to dig up as your life has seemingly started the moment you were discovered by an elderly couple on the streets. You’ve always claimed that you couldn’t remember anything before you where found and since there has been nothing the police was able to find out about your past, they gave up on the case as you were slowly assisted into society. Chuuya doesn’t believe your claims though that you suffer from amnesia. He might be hotheaded but he’s been working for the Port Mafia for years now, has even been made an Executive. The one skill you develop in this position is to get a fairly good read on the person in front of you, on their body language as well as on whether or not they speak the truth or not. So whilst he has no solid proof about whether you lie to him or not, there is this intuition that he has in his guts that there is something you are hiding.

🟠His overprotective and paranoid thoughts tend to spiral so his first assumption is that maybe there is someone after you and that you’re on the run. If that is the case you don’t have to worry. Chuuya can and will provide protection if someone is after your life. The longer you remain silent about your past, the more impatient he grows. Chuuya hasn’t always been honest to you either, especially regarding his position in the Port Mafia. But you needlessly fuel his anxiety as you don’t reveal anything, only feeding his paranoid thoughts as he wonders what you could hide that is so atrocious that you don’t even want your lover to know. Yet when you tell him the truth finally, sensing that he is close to snapping, he gets mad at you. Are you mocking him?! Don’t lie to him now! He doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe you until you see yourself forced to reveal everything you know about him. You know about Sheep, about Arahabaki, about the Port Mafia and about so much more. Only then does he believe you. The truth did not ease his worries though. No, instead Chuuya feels betrayed. Betrayed that you have known everything about him from the very beginning.

🟠He can’t hide. He can’t pretend anymore either. What’s the use? You know everything about him. With no facade to hide anything anymore Chuuya grows weirdly aggressive yet vulnerable. He doesn’t know how he should deal with this situation where he had no control over what he reveals about you and what not. It is fucking weird to know that in your world he doesn’t even exist and is instead a fictional character. What do you even think about him when he stands in front of you? Do you even see him as a real person? With really nothing to lose anymore Chuuya just abducts you then and there, unable to come up with another solution on how to handle this situation. Obviously he doesn’t tell anyone else about you though as he himself has to properly come to terms with the truth. As heavy as the feeling of betrayal sits though, there’s also desperation and paranoia. Desperation because he feels like he deserves to find out more about you as well since you already know far too much about him and paranoia now that he understands that you’ve died before in your world. You can’t be fine after all that happened, right? He’s going to help you.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

🍎Fyodor has always deemed you to be someone who stands out from the common crowd, for reasons he doesn’t understand either. Perhaps it is because your eyes perceive what others can’t see as he will never forget his first encounter with you. The glimpse of pure fear in your eyes as you gazed at him, seeing the demon disguised as a man. The way your body flinched away from his touch as he reached out to you, sensing the doom that would befall you the moment he’d feel your body. Only very few people have ever been able to realise him for the higher being that he is and it is the fact that a common sinner like you sees right through him upon first meeting him that makes you special. Fyodor tests his theory out only once by cornering you, giving you no chance to hide behind others as you are left alone with him. The sadist in him is relishing in the untarnished fear he sees in your eyes, purple orbs gazing at you as you slowly move away from him. He doesn’t follow you but he doesn’t have to. You poor thing now can’t run away from him anymore. You’ve dared to catch the devil’s interest and for that you will greatly suffer for Fyodor only knows how to take and destroy.

🍎It is when he figures out that you have no past that you only deepen his obsession. It’s intriguing. No past sins to judge you by, no trace of an existence stained in impurity before you appeared in this city. No matter how much research Fyodor does, he’s unable to figure you out. You’re a mystery to him, to a messenger of God. Oh, it is indeed a dangerous game you are playing. What could you be possibly hiding from him that is so forbidden that not even he can know? It’s like you’re trying to trigger him and it is this lack of control, the inability to cast divine judgment upon you as you are incomplete without a past to hold you accountable for that leads Fyodor to do something he normally never does. He rushes the process slightly, lures you faster into the spider’s web until you are trapped. The first thing he asks of you to confess is your past, the one thing he can’t find out about you. What are you? Are you a sinner or are you something more? No normal human should be able to deprive him of information he can always gather. The time for your confession has finally come, the day of your judgement has at last arrived. Now then you little mouse, confess.

🍎If only you would know how much you fuel his obsession the moment you are forced to reveal the truth to Fyodor. A sinner always pays with death to free them of their sins yet you have already died in your own world before you were brought to his own. You are free, or at least freer, of sins than anyone else on this planet. So before this world can ruin you once more he is going to isolate you, to shield you from the impurities of this world. After all it is the duty of an angel to bring salvation to those who are worthy. Now he also understands why you were so afraid the moment you saw him. What was the first time for him to ever meet you was after all only the first time for you officially meeting him as you had seen him multiple times before as nothing more than a fictional character in your own world. Maybe there is a scientific explanation of how it is possible for you to be transported into a world that was only fictional in your old reality but Fyodor pushes another agenda onto you. Have you ever considered it to be the will of a higher being? Have you ever considered it to be a second chance given to you? Don’t you worry too much. He will help you flourish in this world.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️​BadumBadumBadumBadum. The melody of your heart when Jouno finds you one day stranded in an alleyway is certainly a good indicator of the fear and the anxiety currently swirling around inside your mind. Be assured though, he is here to help the little wounded puppy he's found himself right now. You'll just have to tell him who you are and where you are from and he'll get you safely back. That is at least the plan, the only problem is that you refuse his help. Hmm, that is strange. You're acting a bit suspicious, you know? Your little heart is telling him that his appearance seems to have only increased whatever stress you've already felt before. Is there something you're trying to hide from him? Even though his eyes are not able to perceive you, you don't strike Jouno as someone who has done something wrong that would force him to take actions against you. Still, he interrogates you, at least until he has gotten his confirmation that you haven't done anything criminal nor plan to do so. Technically that should be enough yet your heartbeat still hasn't calmed down. He's the reason. You're afraid of him. A reaction that usually only the bad guys have when seeing him.

♦️​The Hunting Dogs are heroes even internationally, normally citizens like you rejoice when seeing him. There are still things he'd like to ask you but you actually seem to gather some courage, tell him shortly that he has no reason to keep you trapped any longer since he has gotten his comfirmation. He isn't exactly pleased with the tone you use but he lets you go, though he's still quite dissatisfied with what he has gotten. As if fate is smiling down upon him though he soon has the pleasure to meet you again. You're still as close-lipped as the first time he met you but since he has now figured out where you work he decides to make acquaintances with your co-workers who are far more talkative. He can sense you standing there in the corner, your heartbeat going crazy as they tell him that you've recently started working here and haven't told them much about your past either. So you really just keep it a secret from anyone. That only makes him more curious, you know? With his position it is relatively easy to gather intel on you though it is when he is served with little to nothing that he truly starts realising that you must carry quite the secret around.

♦️​That is the kickstart of his obsession as he wants to figure out what it is you are hiding. What is the dark secret you don't want anyone to know about? His only clue lies in you and so he torments you with his visits, constantly attempting to guess what it is you are hiding only to never figure it out. How could he have known that you died in your previous life only to be reincarnated into a world that was purely fictional in your old world? It is after the abduction that you are left with no choice but to spill out the truth and as much as he would like to ridicule you for such an otherwise blatant lie, your heart is not lying. You're actually speaking the truth. And Jouno doesn't know how to reply to that, just staring at you with a furrowed face as if considering what the best response or even best reaction is to the truth he has so desperately wanted to know for so long now. You think that you see a glimmer of unease appearing on his face before he suddenly bends down, his hands grasping your chin. Just how much do you know about him? Even though you are his beloved Saigiku has ever considered revealing too much to you yet perhaps you already know too much, leaving him strangely vulnerable.

Nikolai Gogol

🕊️​To Nikolai you have always been entertaining. He has the fondest memories of the both you meeting for the first time, a sentiment you most likely don't share with him. After all it was obvious from the very first encounter that all that you felt for him was dread even though his disguise should have been immaculate, able to fool anyone else. He hides his sinister and twisted character when he needs to do so yet you have seen right through him and it is this seemingly keen intuition of yours that has gotten him so invested in you. Nikolai has never meant for this interest of yours to stay nor to develop into a burning passion that threatens to rip him off the wings he so desperately hopes to obtain. The demon threatening to steal his soul is none other than you, his crooked feelings for you spinning and turning as Nikolai finds himself trapped between two clashing desires. One is to obtain his freedom by murdering you, another one is his desire to keep you and share his sad fate of isolation and oppression due to his own feelings with you. It is a constant inner fight and more than just once has he considered ending your puny life yet there is one factor that ultimately stops him.

🕊️​He plans to torment you, to ruin the life you have so carefully built for yourself and the freedom you have in it yet it is the little information he can gather that has him pausing. No family, no friends, no past. You are essentially like a ghost who appeared overnight. He has no past which he could use to chain you down, nothing personal he could hold against you and that knowledge that he can't properly oppress you unless he knows about it torments him and only infuriates him more as if you were indirectly mocking him. Fine, he'll cut the games short then. When you wake up the next time, it is in a little cage with a cheerful Nikolai asking you how you're doing and if you have slept well. That grin only widens and turns into somethin hideous when he sees your eyes overflowing with fear. Yes~ Let that fear corner you and tie you down. Share your suffering with his own. There is still something, you precious dove, that he really needs to know. Only then can he fully drag you down to the bottom of despair with him after all. You need to tell him a bit more about your past. Your family. Your friends. He needs them for his plans. Imagine his surprise when he sees the relief appearing on his face.

🕊️​That grin on his face disappears as he realises the truth, even if only for a short moment. It isn't the fact that you are from a different world, it isn't that you died in your previous world either that sobers him down for one or two seconds. It is the realisation that you will always be freer than he will be. There are no family, no friends, no pets he could use to play with and to break you with. There is no information he can obtain about you unless you tell him yet here you are, knowing already so much about him since he was a fictional character in your old world. Half of your wings he will never be able to clip off. For one frightening moment his hands suddenly wrap around your neck and start squeezing down with enough force to have you gasping and choking before all of a sudden he lets go, leaving you to cough for air. When he bends down he has put on that playful appearance once more, whispering to you that it's still too early for you to die. He must say, you managed to catch him off guard for a moment there but that's alright. If things are more difficult there are more entertaining after all. He will make sure to plug every single feather off of your wings until you're just as broken as him.