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#I loved the Mafia when I was a kid
leenaur143 · 5 months
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yes I'm finally watching kinnporsche, yes this pic melts my heart every time i see it 🥹🫶
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inkykeiji · 4 days
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spaceskam · 2 years
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Im really into how Chay is trying to manifest his gmmtv bl era, completely oblivious to the fact that Kim isn't just a popular on campus musician and clearly a lot more shady. Like everyone is fully aware of the weight of the world, even in Kinn and Porsche's fluffy scenes, and then we have Chay who is just like "this is my Sarawat, I can feel it" and I kinda love that for him
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howlingmusketeers · 2 years
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Vegas really speedran through the stages of grief but like his own stages which are:
- cry pathetically on the ground over Khun Sonic (rip my king you will be sorely missed 😔💔)
- have a funeral for Khun Sonic with your twice-escaped torture victim as witness to your spiral
- talk about your sad pathetic life to said victim/witness/unwilling therapist
- make sexual advances on victim but leave him hanging last second when he doesn't act up like the Brat you prefer
- enthusiastically reciprocate when said brat becomes willing participant in this little devil's tango
- eat ass
- profit
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ravenwolfie97 · 7 months
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sometimes I'll think about how pokemon gens 1 and 2 were such revolutionary games but they're not really thought about except for how broken they are
the main reason they are as glitchy as they are is because they barely had the technology to hold those games together. but they did it. and honestly, thinking about how all those ideas are still trickled down into the more recent games, they're still incredibly brilliant and worthy of praise
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ayakashibackstreet · 11 months
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omg Angus birthday in less than 5 minutes.......
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limelocked · 9 months
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Thinking about the overly political girlisekai brand gayboy romance I want to write which I’ll never be able to because I’m way too invested in worldbuilding
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bjurnberg · 3 months
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My work boots are the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned.
Also the most comfortable. I chose them after trying on several different brands and comparing lifespan vs usage vs comfort - I needed them for a physically demanding job, not the weekend hiking trails. I could have easily chosen cheaper boots that would have lasted long enough to be worth their low price, but I know the Sam Vimes Boot Theory and knew weaker, less comfortable boots would make my life harder in the long run.
So when the outside edge of the heel started wearing down after three years of heavy use I went to the shop I got them from and said “hey this is a common problem for me with how I walk but now it’s affecting my ankles and knees and I don’t wanna have to buy a new pair, is there a way to fix this?”
The salesman at this very fancy upscale boot store said “oh yeah, there’s a shoe repair place that can give you some heel guards - it’ll keep the rubber from wearing out.”
So at 8am this morning right after my 9hr shift ends I went to the shoe repair shop and it is the most hole-in-the-wall, is-this-a-real-business-or-a-mafia-front, am-I-gonna-get-shot tiny cinder block cube I’ve ever seen in my life. I grew up plenty poor and love me a good hole-in-the-wall business, but going from upscale store to this cash-only repair shop gave me whiplash. Wasn’t expecting this when a guy who wears three piece suits to sell boots said it’s the best place to go.
The skinny kid behind the counter looks somehow 16 and 25 at the same time, but when I tell him this place was recommended he smiles and says to hand over my boots. I hand him the vaguely warm foot-smelling boots, and stand in my socks in the 3’ square entryway surrounded by every color leather polish you could buy and watch as he turns my boots around in his hands, sizes up a crescent moon bits of plastic, and unceremoniously hammers tiny nails through them before handing them back.
The heels are perfectly level again. I can walk without almost rolling my ankles. They don’t clack loudly on the pavement or feel different. This is gonna fix my knee pain. It cost $10.
This kid had every tool he needed within arms reach, worked fast and smoothly, I was in and out the door in less than 8 minutes, and it only cost $10.
I didn’t think anything could cost only $10 anymore. I’m so used to hyperinflation prices I was spiritually thrown back to the 1400’s visiting the cobbler in town square. This kid might have been that cobbler and just decided to never die.
I’m still reeling from the whiplash, and gobsmacked at the price, and thrilled I didn’t have to go buy new, worse work boots (cuz I don’t have that kind of money for a second pair, I’m expecting these ones to last a decade) and it feels like I just experienced one of the rare little chunks of magic that floats around our world.
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stelashe · 4 months
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Not the Italian anti italy tumblrinas on my dash 🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡
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zarameraki · 2 months
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♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 ♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧
: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 sukuna is a mafia kingpin 𖥔 teasing grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 pregnancy trope 𖥔 he'll burn the world for you 𖥔 "my wife" 𖥔 he's a great dad 𖥔 mentions of miscarriage 𖥔 mentions of physical and sexual assault 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he loves eating you out 𖥔 anal play (yup.) 𖥔 last warning: mdni!
: ̗̀➛ words: 6.0k
: ̗̀➛ notes: no bc i love you all so much. it's insane how much you guys have supported my toji fanfic & and my nanami fanfic. i'll def be writing a part two to both of those masterpieces (yes i have self-confidence). as someone who's always imagined sukuna as a mafia leader, i decided to say fuck it and write it. please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy! (p.s. pregnancy trope>>>)
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You never thought you'd be married to Sukuna Ryomen, let alone carrying his kid again. Yet, four years deep into this forced marital mess, thanks to your father owing a hefty debt to the kingpin of the underworld crime syndicate, here you were.
“Look at you, Mrs. Sukuna, radiant as ever!” chirped one of your husband’s associate's wives. You had studied a name list last night, but it all escaped your memory after you passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Sukuna wasn’t keeping a hawk's eye on you like he used to when you first stepped into the public eye. Gone were the days of his glares if you messed up a name. Never once had he laid a finger on you at home, despite your assumption that forgetfulness would earn you a beating.
“Thank you." You forced a smile at the woman, your patience waning as the mayor's birthday party stretched on. It was almost the end of the night, and your feet were protesting from traipsing around in flats. All you craved at that moment was your bed, pronto.
The woman and her husband attempted to capture Sukuna's lukewarm attention through political discussions and expressing gratitude for the illegal artillery shipments from your husband's syndicate. They made no effort to acknowledge your existence by his side.
Your hand rested on your belly, a mere eight months into your pregnancy—a new personal record. The first time you conceived, Sukuna demanded an heir, and you willingly agreed, knowing that the child would provide some distraction in the expansive estate that felt like a cage. Unfortunately, at the two-month mark, you experienced a miscarriage.
Feeling Sukuna's knuckles lightly tapping your back, you straightened your posture momentarily, only to slouch again almost instantly. It was futile. The discomfort of your swollen and cramped belly made it nearly impossible to maintain a poised demeanor in the midst of the party.
Disobeying Sukuna meant facing inevitable death, a fact well understood in his dangerous domain, and you had never dared to challenge that.
"Let's go," Sukuna said, cutting through the incessant chatter of the couple. He didn't grasp your hand, only your fragile wrist, a gesture you didn't mind. Yours was not a typical love; he, Sukuna Ryomen, a most feared monster in the criminal underworld, and you, a sacrificial lamb, a trophy collected three years ago, a means to his heir.
"I'm sorry," you whispered as you exited the venue, heading towards the limousine surrounded by fifteen armed guards under Sukuna's command. "I'm so sorry—"
"Get in the car." He held the door open for you, signaling his guards to disperse and take their positions in the Jeeps parked behind.
Silencing yourself, you cautiously settled into the back seat, and Sukuna joined you, slamming the door with force. His anger was discernible, and the memory of that night, losing your second unborn child to a kidnapping, plagued your dreams. You were uncertain if the nightmares were about Sukuna's wrath upon finding you or the horrors his enemies inflicted on you during your 48-hour captivity.
Sukuna noticed your struggle with the seatbelt and contorted his body toward you. Your fingers released their grip on the belt, allowing him to pull it taut and secure it snugly around your midsection. Click. He withdrew, distancing himself from your face that had been mere inches away.
“Tedious fucking party, anyway,” Sukuna grumbled, his left ankle casually perched on his right kneecap. He always adopted a specific posture, his elbow leaning against something, cheek resting on his knuckles, and his narrow eyes a rich brown that could almost pass for a deep shade of red. He exuded an unrelenting air of intimidation.
"I agree," you unintentionally voiced your thoughts, earning a sidelong glance from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
His attention barely lingered on you as the car roared to life. You breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out your legs and leaning your head back against the seat's shoulder. Your palm absentmindedly traced circles on your belly. Goosebumps peppered your skin from the frigidness in the car, stirring an involuntary shudder.
"Turn on the heater," Sukuna ordered the driver in his smooth, languid baritone.
"Yes, sir."
As warmth gradually surrounded the backseat, you hummed a small "Thank you" and closed your eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace.
Disorientation clouded your senses, and you dispelled it by rubbing your eyes and using your knuckles to prop yourself against the headboard. A couple of contractions ripped through your gut, causing you to groan and hiss through gritted teeth.
The enormous room was devoid of Sukuna, its black silk sheets hinting at the luxury covering you. The fireplace casted a warm glow, and a soft, dim golden light spilled from the lamp onto the floor.
In the first year of your marriage and pregnancy, your bedroom was located three doors away. You were tended to by on-site nurses and doctors, surrounded by an entourage of maids for company. Days were spent aimlessly wandering the estate, occasionally crossing paths with one of Sukuna's mistresses, their curious smirks evident as they exited his room.
The second year brought a subtle shift. You still slept alone, but now there was a surprising addition of joining Sukuna for dinner. Positioned diagonally from him, an air of restrained silence hung above your head. Yet, between the utensils clattering and quiet chewing, Sukuna's glances toward you and your five-month-old belly revealed your anticipation for the impending arrival of your child.
One of your maids had been instructed to lure you into a private conversation in the back garden, and before you could react, a group of men clad in black drugged you and forcibly removed you from the cage, which in that cruel moment felt like a sanctuary.
Most details of the monstrosities forced upon you in that warehouse have been compressed by your mind—the merciless physical and sexual assault endured for hours. They callously bragged that raping Sukuna's Ryomen's wife was a personal victory, cackling like bloodthirsty hyenas as you bled from your legs. In the thick of your suffering, you lost your second child in a pool of your own sweat and feces.
When Sukuna discovered you, when he annihilated every man along with their bloodlines, you were left as a mere shell of a woman, practically lifeless. You've existed as a walking corpse for quite some time now. Following that dreadful night, you attempted every conceivable means to end your own life—drowning, leaping out of windows, creating a makeshift noose from bed sheets and tying them around balcony railings, teetering on the edge—but every attempt proved useless. Sukuna consistently interfered at the last minute, sweeping in and enveloping you in his arms as you wept until unconsciousness claimed you for days.
Therapy provided some relief, as did the medications. Sukuna heightened security measures tenfold, keeping only those workers who served during his father and grandfather's reigns. He moved your belongings into his bedroom, sleeping by your side with a gun beneath his pillow. There were times when you would doze off in the library while reading, only to wake up in his room.
Two years seemed like an eternity in the slow process of healing, both physically and mentally, from the torment that had befallen you. Stepping into the garden was a reminder of the progress you had made, yet the hope that blossomed in your womb now filled you with a different kind of fear.
You needed your baby. Even if it meant risking your own life during childbirth. The only thing that mattered was the precious life you carried within you, and as long as your baby took that first breath, you'd welcome death with open arms.
Sukuna's bedroom door creaked open, revealing his presence.
Mink-colored tendrils of hair obscured his eyes, disheveled from their usual spiked stance. The stark white of his dress shirt was marred by the unmistakable stains of someone else's blood, and a gun dangled casually from his grasp. In the subdued lighting, his facial markings, inked tattoos designed to mask the scars of his tormented childhood, appeared more ominous than ever.
Without acknowledging your ogling, he briskly entered his bathroom.
You slipped back under the covers, pulling the comforter up to your chin, soothing the sharp twinges in your belly. The rhythmic sounds of his shower served as a background melody. Sukuna took an eternity to freshen up, nearly two hours passing before the door finally creaked open. You had kept a close eye on it, lost in your own world and trying to ignore the persistent contractions. No complaints, though – you were at the eight-month mark, and this baby was determined to make its entrance into the world.
Draped in a sleek black silk robe, Sukuna strolled toward his side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you still awake?" He tilted his head as if studying an unfamiliar creature. He always regarded you with a curious interest, unearthing some new revelations about you.
"Cramps," you whispered in the dimness, even though the first rays of morning sun began to seep through the curtains.
Sukuna strolled to his side of the bed, lifting the comforter to settle down. "Do you take any medication for it?"
You shook your head. "I don't want to take any risks."
"So you're just going to endure the night with a migraine?"
Your husband seemed oblivious to the concept of cramps. He hadn't bothered to educate himself about your pregnancy or even familiarize himself with basic menstrual cycle terminology. You hesitated to bring attention to his title and position, but he was, after all, born from a woman.
How could he not know?
"Answer me," Sukuna demanded, fixing you with a cold, indifferent gaze. How could two simple words carry such a heavy, intimidating weight? Your entire body shuddered, and you swore you felt your child kick in response to his attitude, causing you to clench your teeth.
"Cramps . . . are something women experience during their period and pregnancy. They're sharp, unpredictable pains in your gut and back," you explained, finding a position that eased the cramps and calmed your baby. "It's worse when you're pregnant—like someone attached a taser to your body without a switch to turn it off."
Sukuna's brow furrowed, and he seemed pissed off as if he held a vendetta against cramps. "Will it have any consequence on the baby?"
You were really trying to be patient. “The baby is the reason why.” 
He ran his hands wearily down his face, casting a stern gaze at the ceiling, his breath quickening. "Is there any way to relieve the pain? Besides medication?"
“Well,” you said slowly, “when I first started menstruating, my mother used to place a warm rubber bottle on my stomach.” The recollection of nights spent groaning, tossing, and turning with your hand clutching your stomach brought a smile. After her passing in high school, you found yourself managing the household, dealing with your drug-addicted father, and taking care of yourself all on your own.
"Come here."
Startled, you shifted your focus to your husband, who raised the comforter like a makeshift tent with one arm. "You don't have to—"
"Come here."
With caution, you edged closer, lying flat and holding your breath. Sukuna propped himself up on one elbow, resting his temple on his knuckles while adjusting the blanket up to your neck. His left hand glided up your sweater and settled on your swollen belly.
An immediate sense of relaxation cocooned you, your eyes closing as warmth radiated from his palm onto your skin. The sensation passed through to your child, who quit kicking within seconds, seemingly recognizing their father's touch. It dawned on you that Sukuna hadn't touched you since you conceived, and you hadn't realized the volume of your misery and longing until this moment.
"Feeling better?"
"Mm-hmm." You nestled your face close to his neck. All you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with brokenness, was, "Please, don't let go."
Sukuna responded only with silence.
You'd woken up screaming bloody-mary.
The security team and maids hurried into the bedroom, their eyes widening at the sight of blood staining your clothes and darkening the black sheets. In a swift response, the doctor and her team of nurses rushed in while Uraume, Sukuna's trusted aide, calmly called for your husband from a corner of the room.
In the heat of your excruciating screams, five nurses attempted to guide your breathing and encourage you to follow a pattern. Guards carefully lifted you into a sitting position, and Uraume decisively cleared the room of all men. The doctor swiftly removed your sweatpants and panties, covering your lower region with a sheet, and instructing you to push.
Your body felt numb, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and a black vignette closing in on your vision. Your head swayed left and right, on the verge of dropping if not for Uraume's unwavering support. Despite the intensity of your grip, they held steady, their only reaction being a stream of muttered curses amid the chaotic scene.
"I can't—Uraume—"
"You will, Mrs. Sukuna. You have come this far. Giving up now is not an option."
"I don't want to die," you whispered akin to a prayer.
"You won't," they softly replied. "He won't allow it."
Uraume, a silent figure from the past, now stood by your side, offering support and encouragement. The connection with them had been minimal, limited to the formalities of a marital contract signing. They had simply muttered, “He’s not half as evil as they say,” to you before packing up the papers and leaving you in the room with Sukuna.
The room buzzed with affirmations, reassuring you that they could see the baby's head and urging you to push with each breath.
The sound of the baby's cries stirred you awake.
You snapped to attention at the sweet, reassuring sound, realizing that your baby was close to arrival—alive and ready to face the world. Following two heartbreaking miscarriages and the pain endured as Sukuna's wife, the bearer of his lost children, you were finally on the cusp of welcoming motherhood.
"Two more pushes!" The doctor's voice cut through the air.
"AGH!" A guttural growl escaped your throat as you grappled with the harsh sensations. Your body trembled, and waves of fiery discomfort overflowed through your core as you exerted yourself to bring your baby into the world.
"Come on," Uraume whispered. "You can do this, Mrs. Sukuna."
You let out a powerful cry and strained with effort, bringing forth new life. The baby and you were crying at the exact wavelength, competing against who could be louder. The nurses and attendants, familiar faces from your previous pregnancies, clasped their hands in prayer for a safe delivery. Tears of relief streamed down your face as you pushed for your own well-being.
"Blanket!" the doctor urgently called out, prompting a nurse to rush over with a soft cream blanket. "Push!"
With a final, determined push, the weight lifted suddenly.
The slippery sensation of delivering the child and the immediate release of pressure left you slumping against Uraume's shoulder. As they laid you down, the doctor directed the staff to tend to you while the baby's cries filled the air.
The doctor approached through your hazy sight and gently laid your newborn on your chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, you showered your baby with kisses, tears of joy streaming down your face. Your little one was here. They were finally here.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Sukuna," the doctor announced as the cries of your newborn gradually faded into the background. "It's a girl."
You drifted into unconsciousness.
The soft cadence of Sukuna's voice filtered through the foggy boundaries of sleep, causing you to slowly come back to life.
“Why is this brat refusing to sleep?” you heard your husband grumbling.
With a laborious effort, you rubbed your eyes, summoning the strength to lift your head from the comfort of the pillow. The scene unfolded before you—Sukuna, the most feared criminal, pacing at the foot of his bed, cradling your crying newborn daughter in his arms, unsure of how to handle his little foe.
"What do you want? Food? You don’t have any teeth yet, little miscreant."
"Sukuna . . ." you whispered, a gentle plea for attention.
Your husband's gaze snapped in your direction, relief washing over his features as he realized you were conscious. "Thank fuck." Moving swiftly, he approached and took a seat at the edge of the bed.
His brown-reddish eyes lingered on the delicate scene unfolding before him—the intertwining of your index finger with your daughter's tiny, rattling fist. A calming magic seemed to stem from your touch, instantly soothing the cries to soft sniffles.
"Already playing favorites, I see," he remarked with a teasing tone, a wry smile on his lips.
"I have to feed her." Your voice was hoarse from the relentless screaming during the delivery. A series of deadly wheezes followed when you coughed, frightening your baby once more. Her cries started again, blending with the impatient curses of her father.
He gently placed her in the cradle, his strength used to prop you up against the headboard. The room carried the scent of coconut soap, your body freshly washed, the sheets beneath you brand-new. You were also dressed in a new set of panties and a nursing bra.
"Are you sure you have enough nutrients in your body to feed her?" Sukuna asked, holding your baby girl as you unclipped the front left cup. Rather than wasting your breath on a response, you focused on helping your daughter latch onto your nipple.
You winced once she caught it, then melted back as she started drinking. “I’m fine,” you finally answered. “Body . . . hurts.”
"No shit. You pushed an eight-kilo baby out of you." Despite the crude sarcasm in his tone, Sukuna tenderly caressed his knuckles over his daughter's cheek.
"Did you want . . . a girl?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I'm sorry," you mumbled, adjusting your baby onto your lap. "I assumed you'd prefer a boy as an heir."
"I'm not my father," he declared, putting an end to the conversation. "She's got your eyes."
Your daughter gazed up at you with a curiosity remarkably similar to yours. You smiled down at her, grateful she had made it. Grateful that Sukuna wasn't throwing a tantrum over the gender of your child but instead cupping the top of his baby girl's head and brushing his thumb across her forehead.
“You got a name for her?” Sukuna asked.
“Yes, but we can brainstorm if you don’t—”
“You carried the child, you birthed her, you will name her. Whatever it is, I agree.”
Something dead stirred inside your chest. Swallowing hard, you shared the chosen name, "Nobara."
He nodded in approval, and as he pronounced her name, Nobara responded with a wailing cry. "Her tantrums will be the fucking death of me." Sukuna took her into his arms again.
"Support the back of her head and rub her back. She needs to be burped," you advised.
He grunted but followed your instructions. Moments later, a tiny burp from Nobara made you chuckle, earning a slight eye roll and a hint of a smile from him.
"I'll take the next few weeks off to help you recover from the aftermath and the stitches," he announced, rising and walking towards his work desk, where he settled into a large leather chair, cradling your newborn.
You nodded appreciatively, easing yourself down.
"Oh, before I forget," Sukuna mentioned as you settled into bed, "I've arranged a new doctor for you."
“Did you fire the last one?”
“I fired at her, yes.”
Your eyes widened. "What? Why would you—? What?"
He shrugged, cradling the back of your newborn's head. "She suggested an additional stitch for you. Said it would make things 'tighter' down there for me."
Your face flushed. “So . . . you killed her?”
"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze fixed on you with those penetrating eyes, "I don't need a mere doctor questioning whether I'd still enjoy having sex with my wife after she gave birth to our child."
“But . . . you have mistresses. Don’t you?”
He lifted a brow. “I had mistresses up until . . . ”
Up until the kidnapping.
Sukuna never spoke of the crime after he’d saved you. Instead, he expressed his commitment through actions: sleeping beside you, teaching you how to handle a handgun, keeping a protective arm around your waist at social gatherings. Occasionally, you swore you felt him run his fingers through your hair as you slept.
"I wouldn't mind if you did," you admitted, a voice inside contradicting your words. "Given what my body has been through, I would find myself repulsive for pleasure, too. I understand if you feel disgusted."
Sukuna halted the gentle strokes on your daughter's back and straightened up. "What the fuck did you just say?"
An icy shiver ran through you, momentarily numbing the pain. "I-I just assumed—"
"You know, you make a lot of assumptions about me, wife. It gets under my fucking skin that you'd ever believe I could raise a hand on you. Day and night, every hour and minute, even now, in your presence, my mind is consumed with ways to kill the fear that's taken root in you.” He was infuriated yet vulnerable, with Nobara sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. “Everyone I’ve ever met has done nothing but fear me like I’m a curse on their soul, and while I’m flattered of the monster they’ve painted me out to be, I refuse to let my wife and daughter see me in that light. Do I make myself clear?"
You . . . nodded. 
“And for your information, I had mistresses up until I married you.”
You took in a sharp breath, processing the confession. "But those women—"
"Spies," he clarified, his voice low and steady. "They operate undercover in my clubs, keeping an eye out for potential threats. I haven't fucked anyone since the day I put that ring on your finger." He offered a small, almost imperceptible apology to your baby for cursing.
"Oh."
All you ever heard were twisted stories about the Sukuna Ryomen, a young man who, against all odds, slaughtered his own father to ascend the throne of the underworld criminal realm. Whispers spoke of a chilling childhood, where a mother's desperate attempt to suffocate her son in his sleep. The scars etched into his skin, concealed beneath a tapestry of dark markings, bore witness to the brutal initiation rites inflicted by vengeful uncles. In his domain, everyone prayed to see him buried six feet under.
Which is why you felt sympathy for your husband. He was lonely. Too lonely. Despite all the riches and influence surrounding him, he was stuck in a fortress where danger lurked around every corner. He had no friends, no one he could truly confide in—except perhaps Uraume. Opening up about his emotions wasn't in his nature. He kept the tough exterior, convinced that being a monster, a curse, was the only path to earning respect and recognition.
But just now, when had cut himself open in front of you and bled a human color, he was Ryomen. Your husband. The one who just became a father. A man wrapped in a comfortable robe with his hair combed down and his skin clean of dirt and blood as he held his daughter, as he gazed at you like you two were the only people meant fighting for in his treacherous world.
Sukuna noticed your silence, tuned in to your steady breaths, and lowered his lashes. "You'll ask me to touch you. Not just for the sake of having another child but for your own pleasure. If I'm not around and you need me, you will call, and I'll rush home. If this little brat gives you any trouble, I'll handle it. Hell, maybe I'll let her in on a bit of the family business for a head start."
"No," you murmured, absorbing everything he'd just said. "Not now. I want her to enjoy a proper childhood."
"Is that a demand?" Sukuna tilted his head slightly, another method of asserting authority. Yet, after all he'd shared about dropping everything for you, about making love to you, the fear in you started to dissolve bit by bit.
"Yes," you affirmed. "It's a demand."
A small smirk played on Sukuna's lips as he rose from his spot, circled the bed, and settled down beside you, with Nobara resting peacefully on his chest. Summoning all your strength, you turned to run your fingers over your baby's soft cheek and tiny, parted lips.
“She sleeps like you, Mr. Sukuna.”
“Ryomen,” he corrected, his arm covering his eyes as he breathed with a slightly open mouth. “My wife will call me Ryomen.”
Teasingly, you asked, “Is that a demand, Ryomen?”
His arm shifted low, and his reddish-brown eyes softened, stealing your breath. “Only from my wife and daughter.”
You smiled, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Ryomen.”
In response, he wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his two girls snuggled against his body.
In the beginning, you knew you didn't belong in the hell Sukuna ruled. Your father's mistakes, pilfering drug shipments and peddling them locally, had sealed both his fate and yours. With thoughts of fleeing the disgrace your father brought upon your family, you had started packing, desperate to escape the clutches of your old man.
The following night, Sukuna and his henchmen barged into your cramped apartment, wreaking havoc on every piece of furniture. Rocking in the corner of your room, Sukuna casted his shadow over you like the God of Death, bathed in your father’s blood.
Crouching down to your eye level, he tipped your chin up, leaving a splotch of blood. He used the collar of your sweater to wipe it away. In a hushed confession, you revealed the hidden drugs under the sink and floorboards, along with your father's buyer list folded in the cereal boxes. Sukuna grinned and ordered his underlings to retrieve the concealed items. Then, the chilling question hung in the air: "Are you going to kill me, too?"
"I'm tempted," Sukuna replied, "but not to kill you." His gaze fixated on your left hand, and he raised it, studying your ring finger. "You will pay for your father's crimes with your life." He held your hand in front of your face. "You will take my last name." His smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Isn't that the cruelest form of death, love?"
Unconsciousness claimed you then, but after seven years of marriage, enduring unimaginable hardships, and finally welcoming a baby into the world, your answer was clear. The true torment wasn't caused by the man you once perceived as a monster but rather by his enemies.
"How am I supposed to know if Mr. Munchkin wants more tea? He's a fucking stuffed toy. Can't talk, you know?"
"Ryo," you warned, perched on the armrest while busy crocheting baby socks for your little one on the way.
Nobara, wielding a rubber, squeaky hammer, stood up from her seat, giving her father a bonk on the head each time he let out a curse. And you often heard the squeak of the hammer around the house.
Nobara's tiara was slightly askew, frustration evident in her curled lips and bared teeth. She was growing increasingly irritated with her father's lack of understanding about the rules of her tea party. "Mr. Munchkin wants tea, Papa. Give him tea! Give him tea! Give him—"
"Fine, I surrender. Here, you little bastard. Take the whole fu—damn pot." He shoved the plastic teapot towards Mr. Munchkin, a well-loved cat stuffed toy you had gifted Nobara on her last birthday. "Happy?"
"Cup," she insisted, pointing at the tea cup in front of Mr. Munchkin.
Sukuna sighed and poured the water from the kettle into the pink plastic cup.
"Me too," Nobara added, settling back in her kiddie chair. Sukuna had barely taken his seat before she had him on the floor. "Hurry!"
"May I pour for the other toys first, Your Highness?"
"Not toys. Friends."
Sukuna shot you a helpless glare, eliciting a chuckle from you. He filled the table with tea, and Nobara, holding her small cup, clinked it with her father's, followed by her collection of stuffed animals. Sukuna reluctantly mimicked the gesture. Instead of sipping the tea, he downed it like a shot.
“Papa!”
“Ryo, come on.”
There wasn’t any winning with his girls.
Sukuna reluctantly poured himself another cup, sipping it with an air of reluctance that mirrored a princess. Despite his resistance to the make-believe tea party, you couldn't ignore the genuine affection he showed toward his daughter. He would nod attentively when one of the stuffed animals "spoke," laughed along with Nobara, and even beautified himself with a glittering tiara, a feathered pink scarf, and deep purple-painted nails.
Sukuna was, without a doubt, a fantastic father. It came as no surprise that Nobara's first word was 'Brat.'
That night, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her into her bed. Sukuna joked that he’d spent every last bit of his wealth decorating the brat’s room, filling it with the latest toys, and stacking her closet with whatever clothes she laid her finger or eyes on. She was truly the princess of her father’s heart.
"She's asleep," you informed him.
"I'll give her a kiss in a minute. Just need to finish this," Sukuna replied, pouring over his documents.
Letting out a sigh, you shuffled over, rolled back his chair, and settled onto his lap. He continued reading as you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder, peering at him through your lashes.
"I want you, Ryo," you murmured.
Sukuna paused, lowering his gaze to meet your cheeky smile. "Later."
"It's late."
"I have to finish—" He halted as you began kissing his neck, moving up to his jaw and cheeks, tracing the contours of his face tattoos.
"Please, Ryo," you whispered near his ear.
How could he refuse you anything when you appeared so stunning, radiating with the joy of expecting another child in your four-month-old belly?
“Take off your robe and get on the bed. Spread your legs for me.” He gave your ass a little smack as you happily skipped away, shedding your clothes and clearing the bed to settle in. With a grin, you opened your legs, propping yourself up on your elbows.
Sukuna stood up from his seat, loosening his robe as he did. He sighed, watching the moisture forming between your legs. Pregnancy seemed to heighten your lusts, and Sukuna was always ready to fulfill your needs.
“What pretty, wet cunt,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss your chest, trailing down to your stomach, your hips, your calling clit. 
Over the years, you realized Sukuna enjoyed pleasuring you more than the opposite. He feasted on you like a starved man, whether it happened in the back of the limo, in a guest room during a party, or just minutes before a crucial meeting in his office. He insisted it was his way of relaxing, often pleading with you to spend a full hour on his face as he ate you out and drank every drop of your release. It had turned into a daily routine for him. And for you.
“Oh, Ryo, yes, yes. Right there—ah!” Your back arched off the mattress when his tongue drove into your hole, flicking and exploring your clamping walls. His mouth was latched to your pussy, sucking it in, his cheeks hollowing rapidly. Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips voluntarily grating against his face, his sharp nose rubbing over your swollen clit. 
Sukuna drew back as you came down with a muted cry behind your hand and lapped at the flow of your juices pouring out of you. His lips shone as he leaned over and gently kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself from his tongue. “If I don’t fuck you now, I will die.” 
“Hurry, then.” 
Sukuna pushed himself inside you, and that first wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you sank your nails in his back and cried out heavenwards. He groaned and grunted, thrusts growing speed, his plump balls smacking against your ass. You loved that he fucked harder, faster, driving you to the brink of ruination. 
After you'd healed from Nobara's birth, he would always make sure to get at least ten orgasms from you. From midnight to early morning, he'd fuck you in every possible position. But his favorite was always missionary, where he could have his eyes on you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, telling him it’s too much, he's too thick, all while using your heels to draw him in even closer.
Sukuna curled his arm around your waist and sat you up on his lap, thrusting up into you as you coiled yourself around his neck. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your cunt was made for me, love. Your cunt was fucking made for me.” His hand threaded to the back of your head, grasping your hair and drawing your face back so you were looking him in the eyes without wavering, without bowing your head. He needed to know you didn’t fear him when he fucked you like this. It was an unspoken check-in, and when you smiled drunkenly, only then did he let you return to embracing him. 
“Are you close?” you whispered. 
“Not yet. I want to come in your ass.” 
You shivered despite how scalding and sweaty your bodies were. “Do it.” 
“Yeah?” 
You nodded. “Please.” 
Sukuna dragged you off his cock so you could get on all-fours, raising your ass up for him. He’s only ever been in your sacred spot a handful of times but never finished himself inside it. It appeared that tonight you were both a little extra spellbound.
Mounting himself behind you, Sukuna unfurled your ass and spit on his fingers, stroking the puckered hole. He gathered the creamy liquid dripping out of your pussy to lubricate the spot. His middle finger stretched you out, followed by his ring fingers, pushing in and out until he knew for sure you were prepared for him. 
Sukuna’s steel-hard cock pushed into your tiny hole. The sight of it expanding to swallow his girthy size almost made him come right there and then. He started to move in sluggish movement, grabbing onto your waist. His hips cruised, brushing against your ass, making you impatient and push yourself back. 
“Understood.” He chuckled and dug his nails into your skin, dragging out to the tip and shoving himself inside. Your face pressed into your pillows, crying and trembling as he abused your asshole non-stop. “You’re taking me so well, my love. Oh, fuck, fuck.” He rutted into you like a beast, claiming your body, rubbing your clit from the front, spanking your ass, brandishing you over and over again. 
You both snapped in unison. 
Sukuna sagged over your spine as he bucked in every last bit of his sloppy seed. His lips kissed your shoulder blades, holding you up by one arm. Gently, he pulled out, his cock growing floppy until you flipped onto your back, hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face, belly slightly swollen, your tits larger in size, his release mingled with yours seeping out from your holes. 
“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face like he didn’t just fuck your soul out of you. That smirk you’d come to love appeared on his lips. You reciprocated back, stretching out your arms so he could lean down and kiss you sweetly on the lips and cheeks and toss in a praise or two for what a good girl you were as he slid into you again, slower and more intimate with his game. “I fucking love you, Y/N.” 
You smiled against his lips that continuously whispered the three beautiful words and said, “I love you, too, Ryomen,” before sealing it with a long, lasting kiss.
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cordeliawhohung · 3 months
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Mafia!141 Masterlist
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a place for me to put all my mafia!141 related fics so i don't bog down my regular masterlist!
Series:
In Limbo: (Ghost) is it wrong to fall in love while waiting to die?
Price x wife!Reader:
he likes showing you off
when his meetings go wrong...
treating him
proposal and baby talk
john "that's my fuckin' wife" price
how you two fall in love
you're jealous
you're drunk and jealous
taking care of you after you have a kid
your first time
you're insecure
you don't think you're a good mum
Ghost x shy!Reader:
you meet him for the first time
you're at Price's club
headcanons
everyone's watching
he learns you're a virgin
you're drunk
you wanna suck his dick
he helps you feel confident
he helps you feel confident again
you want a baby
he wants you to ride him
more confidence again
he helps you masturbate
guard dog
Soap x nurse!Reader:
how you two meet
you're grumpy after work
no touching
how you two really meet
Gaz x mafia!Reader:
you're a proper pain in the ass
you need a place to stay
Other:
Leftovers [1]: Mr. and Mrs. Price don't know how to take care of you properly. Simon is hellbent on saving you, no matter the means.
Leftovers [2]: you're his, now
the boys are drunk
you can find any small comments and other anon asks by searching #mafia!141 in my blog!
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groguspicklejar · 3 months
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I love your mafia!141. Its so interesting and realistic at the same time, its just wonderful. But what if... someone tried to frame the reader and succeed. The reader was just at the right places at the right time and some uses it against them and with the tention between the reader and mafia!141, it was so easy to belive they betrayed them. So they interrogate the reader and hurt them to get answers that dont exist. And by the time they realize what they did, it's too late. They go looking for they were they last left ( unceremoniously dumped) them and find nothing. The reader gone in the wind as if they never existed. The reader however was surprisingly help by someone passing by that just happens to be an agent of some sort and gets put under witness protection. Now its been six /seven years later, the boys think the reader is dead and the reader is living a life somewere new with her twins ( heteropaternal superfecundation), a pale skined,blue eyed and brown haired boy and a chocolate skined, hazel-eyed and curly haired girl. And one day the boys have to do business in a different city and see the reader somewhere with the twins. The guys are shocked to say the least and think they mite have seen a ghost, till they see them again one morning as the reader is taking the twins to school. And thus they realize they have kids with a woman they thought they killed... And so i leave the rest to you if you do deside to use any of this.
your mind is so wrinkly but i kinda hate you for putting this in my head because this trope is my weakness👽 I've only seen one reference of heteropaternal superfecundation in mainstream media, which was from s1 of American Horror story and it's a nice touch to bring the idea here👌🏽 not going into the canon timeline of mafia!141 but i'm leaving this here for all to see because it's just too good to leave rotting in my inbox🫠🫠🫠 warnings: dark themes, stalking, mentions of torture, elements of ptsd, unconventional parenting schedule/custody arrangements, a looot of guilt.
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it's unclear whether they're devastated, relieved or just in pure shock upon seeing you after all these years. and with two boys too, aged eight now.
eight years. eight fucking years since they last saw you. that can't be a coincidence.
they kept a close eye on you, so they don't lose you again. kept your movements tracked, learned where you live, where you work, where your kids go to school, who you and your kids hang out with, the whole nine yards and more.
they don't approach you for a good while, at least a few months. too afraid that they might spook you. too afraid that you might take off and leave without a trace. this time with your children— their children.
but eventually, due to your past trauma, you catch on to the fact that you're being followed. that unnerving itch at the back of your head, a quiet whisper telling you that you're being watched. it nags at you, makes you fearful that you're in danger, that your boys are in danger.
so you quietly pack up all the necessities you need to get out in case things turn sideways fast. and your sons have already made aware that they're going on a trip, but they're smart, as kids are. they notice that something's wrong and it's making their mom worried.
but the second you try to run, they're already at your doorstep because, again, they've been watching you closely.
you're not surprised when you opened the door to find Price standing there.
"can i come in?"
if he's here, then no doubt the others are too. watching. waiting for you to make the wrong move. you have no doubt that the house is surrounded. that even if, by some miracle, you get through Price, either Soap or Ghost will be waiting for you and Gaz is somewhere on higher ground, watching through the scope of a rifle.
no way out. just like last time.
you don't look away from Price as you call out, "boys, go to your room."
their footsteps quickly patter down the hall and you hear the door close. you step back to let Price in and close the door behind him. you don't offer him a drink, don't offer him a seat. nothing. he deserves nothing from you.
"beautiful home." he muses, glancing around the cosy interior of your house. he turns to look at you with a wry smile. "beautiful children."
you can't think of anything worse than him getting his hands on your sons. what they put you through was bad enough. in fact, it should've killed you.
you would rather go through all of it again than let them harm a single hair on your children's heads.
"keep them out of this." you spoke too sharply. the words cut through the air.
you think maybe it's not such a good idea to speak like that to someone who holds your life in the palm of his hands.
"please..." it's a whisper this time, a plea. "please keep them out of this."
something crumples in his eyes. a flash of heartbreak, of a devastation that will take an eternity to heal. but it's fleeting. gone as quickly as the wind. what's left is something somber.
"i just want to talk." he finally says.
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the boys stick close to you. naturally, they feed off of your energy. they watch you closely, see how you react to things and follow your lead. rightfully so; after all, mother knows best.
you hardly go anywhere far when 141 is around them. always ready to step in if you feel that your sons need you. always beckoning them when you can't see them for more than a few minutes.
Gaz and Soap might be fathers to each boy, but that doesn't change how unsafe you feel around them.
the fact weighs heavily on all four of them.
Price and his boys don't uproot you and your children. not this time. they learned the hard way that doing so will only make you more fearful and by extension, making the boys less trusting of them.
instead, it's better to work around your already established life and schedule. even if it means moving 141 headquarters to an entirely new city, they'll do it. they'll do whatever you want, as long as you keep them involved in your and your sons' lives.
Ghost and Price are good to your kids. Price adores listening to them talk about school and Ghost sort of treats them like mini-adults because he feels sort of out of his element when it comes to children.
but they can't help but think that you're only allowing Soap and Gaz supervised visitations to keep some semblance of peace. because deep down, they know you feel as though you don't have a choice, that things will be worse if you don't give them something to work with.
deep down, they know that if you had the power, your sons would be kept as far away from their fathers as possible. and not out of spite, it's out of fear. you're terribly afraid that they'll hurt your children.
yet, that's not even the worst part.
slowly, with time, the boys become a little more open towards their dads and their uncles. they smile more, they're more playful, more talkative. but you remain steadfast in your cold demeanour.
if the boys need new clothes, you remain afar while Soap and Gaz take their pick from the clothing aisles and do their shopping. you hardly say a word during the process. you treat it more as a tedious task, rather than a bonding ritual. and you don't accept any gifts from Soap and Gaz either.
any stray dresses or accessories that don't look like they're for kids that wind up in the shopping basket are promptly taken out and put back where they were found when your sons aren't looking. you either claimed that you didn't like them or don't have anywhere you'd like to wear them to.
which, technically, isn't a lie. you hardly have any friends. you just don't trust people nowadays.
you keep yourself seperate from them, aside from the supervised visits. you don't allow for them to get close too you because you don't want to have to go through the same heartbreak before if someone betrays them and thinks you did it again.
and they hate themselves for it. it's not your fault you're so aloof with them. not allowing them to touch you, to hold you, even for just a few seconds. refusing dates, refusing gifts, not using their cards for your own stuff like treating yourself with a spa day or a shopping spree.
the only notifications that come onto their phones are food and stuff you bought for the boys. that's it. nothing else. and it hurts because they adore spoiling you rotten and you won't let them like before.
it's their own personal hell. being so close, yet so far from you. held at arm's length as if they were mere strangers.
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banners by @cafekitsune mafia!141 masterlist offer a note in the picklejar
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satorusdiary · 10 months
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hot rich dilf + babysitter reader
dilf! toji fushiguro x reader Mafia AU
age gap (reader is 21, toji is 39) + smut & fluff + reader is in college + toji is a rich man who lives a dangerous life
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toji fushiguro.
the biggest mafia boss around Japan, a single dad, with one kid. he is also living in one of the most beautiful houses in Japan. the richest neighborhoods around on the hills, where no one is able to see it well.
whenever you would hear, see, or look at that name wherever you are in the city all you think about is hot, rich dilf.
it’s wrong to think of that, especially when you were the babysitter for his son. yet, toji couldn’t risk the dangers of his son being taken cared of in a public daycare; where anyone can take him and possibly use him as ransom.
that’s why he has you, his personal baby sitter. the young, beautiful woman who is still in college, taking care of his child. something his ex whore of a wife couldn’t do.
whenever you get a text whilst taking classes, your heart skips a beat and your thighs clench together at who the message is from.
Toji sent 1:23 pm
Hey, y/n. I’m sorry for the sudden message, is it alright if you babysit megumi around 4? I have important things to take care of at work.
he is a dangerous man, yet you would never back down taking care of his child. you are putting yourself in major risks, but whenever you would see toji’s frame holding megumi on his hip you think differently.
megumi is a different story, he is a splitting image of his father besides the scars. he’s a sweet boy, kind and respectful to you, and would constantly always want you over to his fathers house.
you enjoy his company, him and his father.
You sent 1:25 pm
of course, not a problem! my classes are ending so i’ll be able to be there by the time you’re about to leave.
Toji sent 1:25 pm
Great, thank you so much. I will double your payment for being able to take care of Megumi during a school day. Thank you again.
not to mention, how good the payment is! by the end of the day you are able to pay 3 months worth of rent for your apartment. there is never a time where you never have left over money for yourself.
you always think it’s a mistake by how much he pays you, how delusional you were missing all the signs he has given you.
the amount of times he would wink at you, with that sexy smirk on his scarred lips. the way he would love you out the way with a hand on your waist, carefully pushing you to the side.
and the way he gives you cheek kisses, saying it’s a friendly greeting towards everyone when he knows damn well he doesn’t kiss anyone’s cheek besides yours and megumis.
his hopes continue, his hopes in you falling for him continue to increase.
toji will always protect you, and megumi. even if you are just a baby sitter, to him you were more than that.
he appreciates the time you put in for his son, and for him. and he appreciates how you always manage to come to his house earlier than expected just to take care of megumi.
toji approaches you with a tight black suit, one that hugs his muscular frame insanely well. your thighs rub against each other without you noticing.
something that wants your heart is when he hold megumis hand, whilst approaching you. it’s cute and wholesome.
“megs, you be good for y/n okay? i’ll be back in a bit.” toji kisses megumis forehead, letting go of his hand before making his way towards you with a small, but seductive grin.
like always, he kisses your cheek before saying a word to you. your stomach has butterflies fluttering around, he continues to sweet talk you.
it’s funny, how could such a dangerous man who does unthinkable things everyday warm your heart in such a way?
“thank you so much, again y/n. here is the money, please be safe and help yourself around the house.” his green eyes pierce through your e/c eyes. his hands giving you a stack of money, more than usual.
your eyes widened, it’s too much. it’s almost as if you depend on him too much with the amount of money he gives you for what, just a few hours of you taking care of megumi?
"mr fushiguro, i cannot accept this. why are you handing me so much?" you questioned, looking up at his tall frame.
he shakes his head and chuckles, pushing your hand that was holding the money closer to your chest.
"its for you, and your hard work. don't question it, you deserve it sweetheart." the pet name slips out, but he has no shame in calling you that. you are his sweetheart after all.
before you could say anything else, he continues on. and continues to make you flustered with his words, and expressions.
"oh, and y/n dear, call me toji. no need to be so formal when you have done so much for me, and my son." he caresses your cheek before brushing past you, grabbing his hat and work jacket from the coat hanger.
"..thank you, so much toji! i will forever appreciate everything you have done for me sir." you smile up at him, waving him goodbye before he is out the door.
"not a problem, dear. you both take care, be back inna bit." he closes the door. the smile on your face hasn't left, and the fast speed of your hear beating increases as you lock the door with its additional locks.
you snap out of your joyful thoughts when megumi embraces you with his small, slightly chubby arms. they close around your waist as he looks up from your stomach with a heart warming smile.
"why cant you just get with my dad, y/n? he likes you soo much, and you treat us so well." he frowns, eyes glossy and filled with adortion.
your heart weeps, his stare makes you double think everything. what if you did get with toji?
"megs.. i don't think he likes me like that sweetheart. and its okay! its okay just being your baby sitter." you pick him up, placing him on your hip while you walk towards his play area. it was clean, free of toys scattered everywhere in the room.
"you're so wrong! i know he likes you a lot. he kisses your cheek, and forehead like me! that means he loves you." the word that holds so much power, and strength over anyone slips from his lips. yet he doesn't try to apologize and make it out as a mistake.
"not only that, but you are like a mommy to me. better than the other one, don't leave tonight. please y/n!" he cries out, hugging you as tight as he can.
you look down at him, sitting on the bed with a sad expression. you never knew how much megumi had actually cared for you. and it amazed you how good he was able to speak as a 4 year old.
"megumi,' you start off, watching as he looks up at you with teary eyes.
"i'll see if i could stay tonight, but just for tonight!" you tell him, his lips automatically curl into a big smile, before he kisses you on the cheeks. the same way his father does.
"yay! thanks y/n. now can we play, please?" he slips out of your embrace and begins pulling out toys from his drawer, handing you a big car which you take from his small hands.
"sure, megumi. if you want, ill take you to the park after?" you question and get on your knees, getting down to his level so you would be able to play properly.
he nods his head repeatedly, you wonder if his cheeks every get tired from smiling so much.
"yes! thank you y/n, you're the best!"
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the day goes by fast, now you are sitting on megumi's bed, tucking him in before he goes to sleep.
"y-you're gonna stay tonight, right y/n?" the little boy questions, turning to look at you. the only source of light was the hallway lights, through the opened door.
you stay silent for a few seconds, giving him a hopeful smile that would make him feel better.
"i'll see, i still have to check in with your dad." you replied. deep down you knew you wouldn't stay over, especially when you knew it would be pretty weird to stay over at your bosses house, just for his kid over night.
you would just have to make up a lie by tomorrow, apologizing to the younger boy on why you couldn't stay over.
i'll say i had classes! yeah that is a good excuse. you thought to yourself.
"okay.. goodnight y/n." megumi utters, smiling before he closes his eyes and drifts off the sleep.
you stay in the same position, watching him peacefully drift off with his hand loosely around yours. after a few minutes, you knew you had to go home.
"bye megs.." you whisper, kissing his head before standing up from his bed, walking towards the outside of his bedroom.
you sighed and began walking down the hallway, towards the exit of the home.
“you’re not gonna stay the night?” a voice startles you, making your turn around with a hand over your heart.
“toji-san! w-when did you get home?” you nervously laughed, and breathed in heavily as he walked towards you.
your heart jumps to your throat as he looks down at you, the tension was high.
his hand reaches your shoulder, squeezing and rubbing over it seductively. a smirk appearing on his features, that stupid sexy smirk that makes your pussy heat up.
“don’t mind that darling. as i said, you’re not gonna stay the night? thought you wanted to be with megs?” the smirk turns into a small frown, making you rethink on why you were going to leave in the first place.
“‘m sorry.. i-i just didn’t think you would be comfortable with it.” you admitted, looking up at him with guilty eyes.
your hand clutches your tote bag, the both of you stay in silence before he speaks up. a kiss being left on your forehead, it drowns out the guilty feeling and lights up your features.
“it’s fine sweets. y’want to talk for a bit and have dinner together? i don’t mind you staying over, megumi has a strong liking for you.” he waits for a response.
it’s almost embarrassing to you how fast you nodded your head, yet toji chuckles at how dedicated you were towards the offer.
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you did not go home that night, as expected. but what happened was something you never thought would happen at all.
you thought you would be in your own bedroom, but here you were. face flat onto toji’s pillows, and him behind you groping your body in many ways. his cock drilling inside your plush, tight pussy.
“you’re so beautiful, my love.” his words continue to make you cry, both ways. he flips you over so his hand would be able to wrap around your breast, and the other caressing your head as you take all of him inside of you.
“daddy— ‘s so good!” you cry out, mind getting foggy as you look at him with the most love and adoration expression he could ever make out. his heart melts.
he shuts you up with a kiss, tongues clashing together as his hands roam around your love handles, squeezing and slapping them.
you moan into the kiss, it’s muffled but he was able to hear it clearly. the sound was music to his ears, making him slam into you rougher and deeper, his cock abusing your g-spot.
you were just too beautiful, too pure for him. he couldn’t resist you. the day he met you in a coffee shop he knew he wanted you, and you would become his.
“shh, baby. can’t forget gumi is sleeping, hm?” he hums, pulling away from your pouty, swollen lips.
“sorry.. ‘jus feels too good. love your cock s’ much tojii.” you moan once again. your hand interlaces with his bigger hands, pinning you down on his large bed.
“i know, sweet girl. you almost needa cum?” he coo’s into your ear, large, muscular hand going down onto your stomach. your womb filled with toji’s hot seed.
you whine, nodding repeatedly and look up at him with desperate eyes. sobs leave your mouth, the bubbly feeling in your stomach begging to be released.
“please! need t’ cum, lemme cum daddy.. please!” you beg over and over, it’s adorable to him. the way you’re so desperate for him, and his cock. even if it’s bullying your insides.
arousal floods into your insides, the way toji lowly groans on top of you makes you see the stars.
“cum with me, my dear.” he moans out, hands gripping at your waist as he continues to slams you down on his veiny, hard, big cock.
just like that, you realease all over him. you hadn’t even notice you squirted. the feeling of toji filling you to the brim once again made your eyes foggy, filled with tears. thankfully toji was there to wipe away any tears left.
hot cum continues to spurt into your pussy, the feeling of your walls clenching over his cock so well makes toji’s feelings for you grow stronger.
“my beautiful, princess.” he whispers through heavy breathes. your heart beating even faster as his hands cup your jaw, pulling you into another heated kiss.
“starting now, you’re mine. my little girl.”
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angrythingstarlight · 3 months
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Frankie being Bee’s right hand man when they grow up 🙊
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Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee
AN: Drabble written on my phone.
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"I don't understand why you would say something so hurtful, Malyshka." Bucky sighs, burying his face in the curve of your shoulder. His arms keeping you firmly on his lap as the two of you watch the rambunctious toddlers run around the living room. "What did I do to deserve that hmm?"
Your eyes roll instinctively. All of this is because you mentioned how cute it would if Frankie ended up being your daughter's right hand man when they grow up. Now you have two choices, reassure the surly pakahan or needle him relentlessly.
Considering that he is the love of your life, the choice is obvious.
"When weddings are finally in stock and they get married—" You glance up when Bucky makes a pained noise in the back of his throat. "–he can be Mr. Frankie Barnes because we both know he's going to take her last name."
Bucky's eyes widen and he glares at Frankie, the toddler donning a plastic shield in preparation for the upcoming dragon battle.
"Yknow I think he's about to inherit a house in Alaska," Bucky mutters under his breath.
Shifting in his arms, you grab his bearded face, pushing his chin up until your eyes lock on each other, your serious gaze clashing with his sullen one.
"Don't even think about it. He's an adorable kid and sweet and harmless—don't give me that look. He is." Lowering your lips to his, you smooth your hand through his thick hair and whisper. "And he's her best friend."
Bucky groans. He knows you're right. Still doesn't mean he has to like it. Or the shifty bastard that somehow managed to charm both his girls the only way a shifty little bastard can. But if his sweet Bumblebee is happy, he's happy. Kinda.
"Besides," you grin wickedly, wrapping your arms around his neck in anticipation of his reaction. "The only thing better than an actual wedding would be watching them have a pretend one. Consider it practice for the big day and—Bucky"
Your husband doesn't let you down. He makes an aggrieved noise that rolls down your back seconds before he stands and tosses you over his shoulder, informing the toddlers that he going to protect you while the duo finishes their mission. You see the pair nod in unison with matching serious expressions before you're carried out the room.
The whispered threats of what's about to happen since you want to play so damn much, he can play too has you grinning.
All you can think is, if you say so Bucky.
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pachinkowashere · 1 year
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I say have Barry rent out a castle for the Halloween fun SOLELY for the reactions of the non-rich folks. I still remember Nene's reply to Barry's surprise about everyone not having a summer vacation house like him back on your main a while back and it still makes me giggle silly. So fro him to rent out a castle for the spooky fun? Nene can't even with these rich people lmao
......
E v a
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norrisleclercf1 · 6 days
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Ooooo how about Mafia norstappen and reader with kids where there’s intruders that come into the home and max goes protective mode
Love all your recent blurbs🫶🏼
Movie nights were your favorite. The your two kiddos and your third on the way would quiet down and just lay still and watch the movie. Max and Lando would forget about work and hold the three of you, but you could tell they were still on edge watching everything around them.
"Daddy, tight." You turn seeing how Lando's arm was tight around your baby girl Violetta's waist. Lando's arm relaxes and you see the instant regret in his eyes as he leans down placing a soft kiss on top of her head. At 4 she was every bit of her father. Looking at Lando and her now people would think she was his, but really she was every bit of Max's. Her wild curls were blonde with those sparkling blues everyone fell in love with. She had his fiery attitude as well.
"Sorry, princess." Lando whispers and readjusts them to lie down and she giggles, lying on his chest which has him smiling. Max's hand starts to move again, as you laid against his chest. Your little boy, Michael was the spitting image of Lando. It freaked Max out sometimes just how Michael was the carbon copy of Lando.
You still remember playing a game of baby pictures and asking him which was Lando and Michael. Max felt like crying from that game honestly. Little Michael all 2 years old of him was conked out, drooling a little on Max's shirt who didn't even seem to care. "You're thinking to hard," Max whispers, giving you a soft kiss that has you sighing. "Not that hard, just thinking how much I love our family." Max hums and nods in agreement.
You settle back down, your mind and eyes drifting off to sleep when you hear something shatter from upstairs. Sitting up quickly you almost scream when a hand covers your mouth but you notice it's your husband. "Shhh, someone is in the house, come on." Lando whispers, grabbing your hand. You look around, noticing your babies are gone. "Lan," You almost sob but he turns, "Max got them, they're okay, I promise." You nod as he leads you through the house.
"In," Lando opens a small bookcase and you move and sigh seeing your babies asleep and cuddled together. Lando follows and cocks his gun slowly, not to scare the kids as he closes the bookshelf. "How'd they get in? Where are the guards?" You ask, shaking as Lando puts the gun down and pulls you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. "I don't know, but it's going to be okay." You shake your head no. Not believing him.
"Where's Max?" You twist around trying to find out where your other husband is, as Lando's hands tighten on you, refusing to let you go. "Stop, please, he's going.....he'll be okay." Lando's voice wavers and you start to move around more but he stops you.
"Dammit, no," Lando moves covering your mouth and you hear footsteps outside the bookshelf you both freeze, Lando grabbing the gun and holds it up. You try to hold your breathing as the bookshelf cracks open. "Lan? Schat?" You both let out a sigh of breath as Max comes into view.
You balk, shocked to see Max covered in blood but Lando doesn't as he crushes him in a hug. Max sighs and runs his still wet hands through Lando's hair. "How many?" "Don't worry about it," Max whispers and notices your hesitancy to move. You knew their life, what it held, the violence, but they never brought it before you.
"I'll shower, when I can. The others are here, um, cleaning." You just nod and Max looks at his babies and sigh Lando whispers something that has Max nodding. "Are you and the baby okay?" He asks, and you hold your stomach nodding, the little one had been kicking the entire time.
"We're okay," Max nods and Lando looks over him making sure he wasn't injured. You knew Max was ruthless, but you never truly know the lengths someone will go for their children, tonight you saw just a small glimpse of that length, you hope to god you never see the end of it.
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